Hans Eicholz reviews two books on the Declaration of Independence. Two slices:
Among the best ways to gain perspective on any topic is to read different treatments in tandem. In observance of the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, I did just that with two books that pair well: Bradley Birzer’s The Declaration of Independence: A Radical Experiment in Liberty and Michael Auslin’s National Treasure: How the Declaration of Independence Made America, both hot off the presses this year.
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There was a time when Americans trusted the states to serve as bulwarks for the protection of rights and liberties. Federalism, as a check on distant and impersonal power, was as central to the Declaration’s structure as its assertion of universal natural rights. Indeed, the suggestion that these two dimensions of the Declaration might stand in conflict with one another would have surprised most patriots at the time. These aspects were originally regarded as highly compatible, even complementary, parts of limited government under law.
Peter Earle explains how “the American Revolution redefined freedom itself.”
No wonder Lincoln was so jubilant in 1863 when news of the Union triumph at Gettysburg (on July 3) and the surrender of the Confederate citadel of Vicksburg (on July 4) clustered around the Fourth. The rebellion that denied “all men are created equal” had now “turned tail and run,” as Lincoln said during his July 7 speech. But the ultimate vindication of the Fourth of July would come four months later, at the dedication of the national cemetery at Gettysburg for the Union dead of the battle. No longer did he speak in the offhand style of “80-odd years.” Lincoln smoothed it out to the eloquent and almost biblical words we know so well today: “Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”
From the moment of the Gettysburg Address, Lincoln made it clear that Americans trace their origin not to a race, a heritage or a religion, but to the creed enunciated on the Fourth of July—that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The close of the Civil War was, in large measure, Lincoln’s victory. But it was also the victory of the Fourth of July, and that victory is with us still.
Clark Packard and Tad DeHaven report on Trump & Co.’s “self-dealing in US trade and investment policy.” Here’s their conclusion:
These private profits for Trump administration officials and their family members sit downstream of specific US international trade and investment practices, including efforts to mitigate China’s chokehold on tungsten, other rare earths, and semiconductor export controls. None of these policy goals are necessarily illegitimate on their own terms, but the means pursuing those goals are transforming ordinary policy into family enrichment schemes.
Fiscal conservatives, assuming there are still enough of them to be heard in Congress, should be particularly concerned about a package that authorizes roughly $580 billion in spending while doing little to address the long-term insolvency of the Highway Trust Fund. Legislators are instead choosing to promise more spending while avoiding the structural reforms necessary to put transportation funding on sustainable footing.
Ilya Somin responds to “the ‘birth tourism’ objection to birthright citizenship.” A slice:
Moreover, birth tourism isn’t actually a bad thing at all. It’s a positive good. Presumably, “birth tourist” parents want their children to be born US citizens so they could live a life of greater freedom and prosperity than would be possible in the parents’ countries of origin. That’s obviously a good outcome for the children and their families. And it’s good for the US economy and society, as well, because native-born US citizens benefit from the enormous economic and social contributions of immigrants. Indeed, immigration restrictions undermine the economic freedom and prosperity of native-born US citizens more than any other government policy.


Then [Sir Edward] Coke took Parliament further. Among Parliament’s traditional rights was bringing “grievances” to the king’s attention. Coke chaired the Committee on Grievances, an odd position for a privy councilor. And he lashed out at the king’s claim that “reason of state,” i.e., the national interest and particularly national security, could justify extraordinary action.
The state of opinion which governs a decision on political issues is always the result of a slow evolution, extending over long periods and proceeding at many different levels. New ideas start among a few and gradually spread until they become the possession of a majority who know little of their origin.
The reader who has followed the voluminous economic literature which German scholarship has piled up in recent years meets not infrequently the contention in favor of Schutz der nationalen Arbeit [Protection of National Labor]. Yet often he is left in doubt just how and why national labor is to be shielded by protection, – whether for preventing sudden shifts in the historically rooted industries of a slow-moving people, or for elevating the condition of labor in the whole country. Or, to take another example, it is often set forth, in the same quarters, that the burdens which the great social legislation of Germany imposes on her employers must be offset by duties on the products of competing foreign employers, – a proposition to which the stanch [sic] protectionist would unhesitatingly assent. But, if this be a good ground for compensating duties, why is not a general higher range of wages also a good ground, or any other condition unfavorable to the employer, – e.g., high income or property taxes, or poorer natural advantages? To answer these questions, some severe reasoning is called for: plain commonsense, unsupported by sustained argument from principle, does not suffice.
Americans of my generation, and of earlier ones, will remember – not fondly – the gasoline lines of Fall 1973 and the even worse lines of Summer 1979. The gasoline shortages of the disco decade were the predictable consequence of energy price controls that, although eased somewhat by Carter, weren’t completely removed until
