J.D. Vance Speaks to Voters

Recently, J.D. Vance has caused handwringing amongst certain members of the right for saying that America is not just an idea but a people and a nation. There is a case to be made for both sides, and one sees throughout American history a conflict between America as an idea and America as a concrete people and a way of life. Or in other words, one sees in the history of the American people a conflict between form and matter.

Some among the right argue that the Declaration of Independence is America’s core document, or to put it in Lincoln’s words, the Declaration is the electric cord that binds liberty-loving and patriotic Americans of different ethnic backgrounds together. While the Declaration is certainly a central document, the abstract justification for the Revolution was not, in the end, what made men willing to die for the nascent nation. Ideas can mobilize; they can implant within the minds of men a romantic ideal that becomes a predominant passion within their soul. This is especially true in democratic times where there is a taste for general ideas, like liberty, equality, and fraternity. But can ideas make men face death? Certainly there are always radicals who will subject a nation to their ideological tyranny, like Robespierre and Lenin. But outside of ideological radicals and some rare scholars, when we read military history and the accounts of men who saw actual combat, they say that ideas lose their power, and it is the concrete, particular attachments that men have for each other that makes them willing to face death.

French officer and military theorist Ardant du Picq, who fought in the Crimean War and died in the Franco-Prussian War, authored Battle Studies, which analyzes the moral aspect of modern war. He argues that while modern warfare changes, the human element does not. Moreover, Picq throughout his study calumniates the scholarly, abstract treatment of war:

It often happens that those who discuss war, taking the weapon for the starting point, assume unhesitatingly that the man called to serve it will always use it as contemplated and ordered by the regulations. But such a being, throwing off his variable nature to become an impassive pawn, an abstract unit in the combinations of battle, is a creature born of the musings of the library, and not a real man. Man is flesh and blood; he is body and soul. And, strong as the soul often is, it can not dominate the body to the point where there will not be a revolt of the flesh and mental perturbation in the face of destruction. The human heart, to quote Marshal de Saxe, is then the starting point in all matters pertaining to war.

When Picq speaks of the human heart, he means something closely resembling the Greek concept of thumos, which is often translated as spiritedness. But thumos is better felt than explained, and any father who imagines an assailant attacking his family will quickly understand the core of this Greek concept. We also glean from this example that thumos is most powerful where the attachment is particular, and this is key for explaining what motivates men to fight and die.

Thus, for Picq, it is not ideas, theories, are any abstract concepts that inspire courage and civic virtue, but familiarity and friendship: “Four brave men who do not know each other will not dare to attack a lion. Four less brave, but knowing each other well, sure of their reliability and consequently of mutual aid, will attack resolutely. There is the science of the organization of armies in a nutshell.” It is not even inborn physical courage that will spur men to fight, but the simple love and attachment men have for each other. Indeed, this simple fact goes a long way in explaining the Spartan regime, perhaps the most dedicated in human history to cultivating civic virtue. The Spartans loved each other fiercely; their entire lives were dedicated to friendship and war, and they provide us with immortal examples of admirable courage.

There is also S.L.A. Marshall, who famously claimed that only 25% of men in combat end up firing their weapons at the enemy. In Men Against Fire, he states:

Men who have been in battle know from first-hand experience that when the chips are down, a man fights to help the man next to him, just as a company fights to keep pace with its flanks, Things have to be that simple. An ideal does not become tangible at the moment of firing a volley or charging a hill. When the hard and momentary choice is life or death, the words once heard at an orientation lecture are clean forgot, but the presence of a well-loved comrade is unforgettable.

Marshall’s point is essential to understand, especially for pundits and scholars alike who have a taste for general ideas. While the thoughts expressed in the Declaration of Independence, or even in the Declaration of the Rights of Man, may be beautiful, they are not sufficient for inspiring the type of devotion that motivates men to make the ultimate sacrifice. A man fights primarily to defend his friends and his home—not an idea. Therefore, although both David Hume and Tocqueville remark on the advent of political ideology and its power, the real reasons a man sacrifices his life are always simpler. The French Revolution was provided its abstract justification from the philosophes, but the conscript armies fought and died because of their fierce love for Napoleon and for each other above all else. And in the American context, while the Declaration of Independence was America’s raison d’être for separation from Great Britian, it was the Revolutionaries’ pledge to each other, of their lives and sacred honor, and of their particular way of life that spurred them to cross the Delaware, and it was their attachment to a great man, George Washington, that lit the fire of patriotism in their hearts.

And now, to our day. It is important for conservatives to realize that American voters are not being mobilized by abstract ideas. For better or worse, the American idea, as found in the Declaration of Independence, was thoroughly rejected by the Progressives, and it doubtful whether a normal American understands the natural rights regime of the founders in the way that the founders did. The motivations of average conservative Americans are again, simpler: it is their attachment to a great man—who recently demonstrated immense physical courage—and to each other that mobilizes them. They want to defend their neighbors and their families, and they want to conserve their American way of life. Meanwhile, the left has nothing but ideological and abstract justifications. They shout “democracy” and cry “fascism,” but their shouting is merely an expression of their momentary passions, rendering both terms effectually meaningless. They constantly advocate for progress because they believe the American people to be contemptible and in need of change. They employ a litany of “isms” and an army of scholars professionally trained at employing them to stifle any sort of resistance to immigration and demographic change. It is impossible for the ideological left to conceive that many Americans oppose immigration on the simple basis that they love their country and want to preserve it from radical change, and not because they are hateful or racist. Overall, conservative politicians ought to focus on simple, concrete issues. When Vance speaks of America as a particular people, he speaks to the voters. When others speak of America as an idea, they speak to academic journals.

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