Timeless truths about democracy, republicanism, and Claudine Gay

One of the most persistent myths about government in the United States is that we are a “democracy.” Slogans such as “democracy dies in darkness” and the repeated claims that particular politicians — most often former President Donald Trump — represent a threat to “democracy” do seem to suggest that’s what we are. And, of course, Lincoln’s famous remark from the Gettysburg Address that our government is one “of the people, by the people, for the people” has similar implications.

The word “democracy” means literally “rule by the people.” But as every school child once learned, we are a republic, not a democracy.

The resignation of Claudine Gay as president of Harvard may signal that the academy has begun to understand that the push for DEI has gone too far.

It is impossible for more than 300 million people to actually govern a nation, necessitating some sort of representative government. Popularly speaking, “republican government” has come to mean government by representatives chosen by the people.

Throughout American history, however, and particularly when the Constitution was written, there was more to republicanism than simply selecting representatives by popular elections. The word “republic,” from the Latin res publica, means “public thing.” In the 18th century, the word came to mean a government that operated in the interests of all, but not necessarily a government dictated by the popular feeling of a moment, and most certainly not a government characterized by direct democracy.

Since the time of Plato and Aristotle, it has become clear that democracies are characterized by temporary passions that lead to unwise actions. The indirect style of governments of republics was better at restraining popular passions and preserving peace and stability.

For some theorists contemporary with the framing of our Constitution, and as part of our political tradition reaching back to the ancients, it was understood that the classical conception of a republic included some substantive features of the polity, including the preservation of sound morals, and the maintenance and encouragement of the classical virtues such as prudence, courage, temperance, wisdom, and, later, the three Judeo-Christian virtues of faith, hope, and charity. These notions, among others, were regarded as “timeless truths,” which our laws and Constitution were designed to promulgate.

Somehow, over the years, and particularly among progressives in our country, the idea of “timeless truths” came under severe attack until, in our own time, our universities have come to be denominated by a secular philosophy that recognizes no higher goal than “self-actualization,” or the maximization of the fulfilling of individual desires. “Democracy,” for progressives, seems to be about that rather than preserving altruism and what the framers understood as republican virtue.

Worse, the academy has come to be dominated by the view that there are not only no timeless truths, but reality itself is subjective, so that academics and others can now speak of “my truth,” which presumably has as equal a claim to validity as anyone else’s. This is nonsense. Academic progressives, to the contrary, inhabit a single reality, and as sages such as T.S. Eliot, C.S. Lewis, and Russell Kirk reminded us, the “permanent things” — the timeless truths and the classical and republican virtues — remain as real and valid as ever.

In the last decade or so, the academic infestation of diversity, equity, and inclusion and its attendant bureaucracy morphed from the individualistic psychology of self-actualization to permeate our culture. Its manifestations in our elite institutions, such as “safe spaces,” “cancel culture,” “affirmative action,” and other practices replaced, to an alarming extent, the rigor of historical, literary, philosophical, and other disciplines seeking truth and excellence.

The resignation of Claudine Gay as president of Harvard may signal that the academy has finally begun to understand that the push for DEI has gone too far. This may be a salutary sign for those of us who still adhere to the founders’ views, as limned in the Constitution, “The Federalist,” and the Old and New Testaments. Harvard might be moving closer to embracing the original understanding of its motto, “Veritas” — truth.

Nonetheless, it’s significant that there are still many defenders of Gay and all she represents, to the extent that what many of us view as the sensible sacking of a poorly qualified person tainted by plagiarism may be seen by her defenders as somehow an attack on “democracy.” Those progressives who take that position might do well to ponder what kind of a nation we really have and whether the founding generation got it right when it claimed our republic could not be preserved without instilling virtue in the citizenry.

A war for the hearts and minds of Americans is well underway. It is not incorrect to see it as a “culture war,” but it is really a profound debate about the nature of reality and the true principles of proper governance.