The former Presidents Adams may not be the men Americans want to celebrate, but they might be the men we need. In The Problem of Democracy, Isenberg and Burstein suggest that the Adamses have been relegated from the pantheon of celebrated founders because their critique of democracy and the United States does not comport with the “ecstatic, celebratory, self-congratulatory script that grew into the political faith we know as ‘American exceptionalism’” (xii). Instead, they feared anarchy brought on by partisan presses and cults of personality formed around inexperienced and meritless politicians, they distrusted human nature, and they despised deception – in all forms.
In this work, Isenberg and Burstein pursue three goals. First, they explore the relationship between the two Adamses, a study long overdue. They show the parallels in the Adamses’ lives and careers and the deep bond that sustained them through countless disappointments, public attacks, and death. Their oddly similar careers offered father and son unique insight on each other unmatched by any of their other close relationships. They both negotiated major treaties ending wars with Great Britain and then traveled to London to serve as the American minister after the conclusion of the war. They both experienced alienation from their own parties, parallel defections from their administration during their presidencies, and losses in particular bitter (and similar) presidential elections. Finally, they struggled with self-doubt, suffered from chronic worry about their reputation and legacy, and beamed with pride at the accomplishments of their sons.
Isenberg and Burstein's second goal is to examine how and why the Adamses developed their political theory. Both Presidents Adams were lifelong learners, lovers of books, and devoted to the acquisition of knowledge. They were particularly influenced by Roman history and philosophy that gave them a “mature pessimism of their Roman spirit” (173). They understood the scope of history, their place in it, and the chances for success. Cicero's writings and his example returned to both Adamses again and again. They admired his independence and viewed him as a man too great for party.
Blind partisan loyalty was the enemy. Parties were not vehicles for public expression, but rather structures for politicians to make money by building a cult of personality around a politician, whether or not he possessed the merits to hold office. In order for the republic to survive, John Adams believed that republican institutions required moral, well-educated politicians in positions of leadership in order to work. JQA, as he styled himself, differed slightly. He believed that the answer lay in principled debate, which required astute politicians and erudite citizens. The right ideas had to move the most people.
They did not just form these ideas from books, however. They observed the excesses of anarchy during the French and Dutch Revolutions and the problems with monarchy in Berlin and St. Petersburg. They also developed a form of nationalism free from the bonds of sectionalism harbored by their peers. Rather than becoming Europeanized, as many of their critics alleged, they proudly displayed their American-ness on an international stage. Their periods of diplomatic service also gave them self-confidence on foreign affairs and an ability to predict future diplomatic developments unshared by many of their successors. As a result, the international standing of the United States either held steady or rose during their tenures, whatever may have occurred domestically.
Finally, Isenberg and Burstein analyze how the Adamses embodied their political philosophy by loudly sharing their prescient fears about democracy, political parties, and demagoguery, even when it was wildly unpopular. They distrusted the fickleness of reputations and viewed Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and Andrew Jackson as the epitome of politicians who captured the public's imagination, but offered little substance or merit to warrant the adoration they received. They were a party of two.
The book follows a roughly chronological timeline, occasionally pausing the narrative to investigate key themes, including slavery, the role of traveling in shaping their worldviews, religion, the awesome influence of Abigail Adams, and their deep devotion to learning and books. The writing is clever, at times sarcastic and funny, accessible, and moving. It's the type of writing we should all strive to replicate. They are clearly incredibly fond of the entire Adams family and respect their lives and contributions. There is a distinct aim to resurrect their image among the founding generation – and yet they don't gloss over the flaws, challenges, and blunders of the Presidents Adams.
My only criticism is based solely on the introduction. Isenberg and Burstein state that the book is intended to “tackle misperceptions about democracy's historical inevitability as function of ethical progress,” “challenge orthodox American faith in ‘government by the people’ and explore the real question of who makes the wheels of power turn (xiv). This promise is not met, and is frankly unnecessary. The book offers so many insights about twenty-first-century politics without having to beat the reader over the head with additional analysis. The book is better without that explicit conversation.
