The Moral Algorithm of American Independence

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The American Revolution stands among history's most consequential political transformations, yet its fundamental cause is often misunderstood in popular culture and educational settings. While simplistic narratives frame the conflict around taxation without representation, tea parties, and specific policy grievances, a deeper examination reveals a more profound philosophical battle that continues to shape American governance today. At the heart of this conflict was an existential question about the legitimate limits of governmental power and the moral purpose of political institutions.

The Declaratory Act: Parliament's Claim to Absolute Authority

On March 18, 1766, the British Parliament enacted two pieces of legislation that would set the colonies on an irreversible path toward independence. The first—the repeal of the hated Stamp Act—appeared to be a victory for colonial resistance. The second—the Declaratory Act—contained the seeds of revolution.

Formally titled "For the better securing the dependency of his Majesty's dominions in America upon the crown and Parliament of Great Britain," the Declaratory Act asserted that Parliament possessed "full power and authority to make laws and statutes of sufficient force and validity to bind the colonies and people of America... in all cases whatsoever." This sweeping claim to unlimited authority wasn't merely about taxation; it was a declaration of absolute sovereignty that left no domain of colonial life beyond Parliament's reach.

The act went further still, declaring that any colonial resolutions, votes, or proceedings questioning Parliament's unlimited authority were "utterly null and void." This meant that even the act of challenging Parliament's power was itself deemed illegitimate—a circular assertion of authority that left colonists with no legal mechanism to protest even the most egregious overreaches of power.

The "Moral Algorithm" and the Purpose of Government

To understand why the Declaratory Act represented such a profound threat to colonial liberty, we must examine what John Adams would later articulate as the "Moral Algorithm" of legitimate governance:

"Government is instituted for the common good; for the protection, safety, prosperity and happiness of the people; and not for the profit, honor, or private interest of any one man, family, or class of men and to reform, alter, or totally change the same, when their protection, safety, prosperity and happiness require it."

This statement functions as a clarifying principle that cuts to the very core of the revolutionary dispute. Adams' algorithm establishes three crucial propositions:

1. Government exists for specific human ends (the common good, protection, safety, prosperity, and happiness)
2. Political power is not legitimate when serving narrow interests (the profit, honor, or private interest of any individual or group)
3. The people retain the right to fundamentally alter their governance when it fails to serve its primary purposes

These principles create an evaluative framework fundamentally incompatible with Parliament's claim to power "in all cases whatsoever." If government derives its legitimacy from serving specific human ends, then no political authority can be unlimited in principle. Power becomes conditional, measurable against outcomes rather than merely procedural correctness.

The Colonial Awakening to the Threat

The recognition of this threat among colonial leaders unfolded gradually but decisively. Benjamin Franklin initially believed colonies would accept the Declaratory Act if Parliament never actually exercised the powers it claimed, comparing it to a similar act regarding Ireland that was rarely enforced. He reassured Parliament in February 1766 that Americans would not object to the passage of the Declaratory Act "if they are never attempted to be carried into practice."

John Adams proved more prescient. Immediately following the act's passage, he wrote in his diary (April 26, 1766): "The king, Lords and Commons now have an undoubted right to make laws for the colonies in all cases whatever. I am solicitous to know whether they will lay a tax in consequence of that resolution, or what kind of a law they will make."

Adams' concern proved justified when Parliament enacted the Townshend Duties less than fifteen months later. John Dickinson, in his influential "Letters from a Farmer in Pennsylvania" (1767), recognized that these duties, despite their small monetary value, were primarily about establishing a precedent for Parliament's unlimited authority—the true danger being not the specific policies but the principle they reinforced.

As the conflict deepened, colonial leaders increasingly identified the Declaratory Act as the root cause of British oppression. By 1772, Adams was arguing that if Parliament could "bind us in all cases whatsoever," the colonists would have "no influence, no check, no power, no control, no negative." Dr. Joseph Warren explicitly named the Declaratory Act as the "true source of British oppression" that same year, even comparing Britain's treatment of the colonies unfavorably to how the Roman Empire treated its conquered provinces.

From Intellectual Recognition to Revolutionary Action

What began as an intellectual concern evolved into a full-fledged revolutionary principle. Benjamin Franklin, having changed his perspective, published the satirical "Rules by which a Great Empire may be reduced to a Small One" in 1773, criticizing the Declaratory Act's claim to unlimited power. Samuel Adams emphasized that Parliament's strategy was fundamentally about establishing a precedent for unlimited authority, not merely taxation.

By 1774, these ideas were being formalized in revolutionary documents. John Hancock's Boston Massacre Oration identified the Declaratory Act as the root cause of all subsequent British actions. The First Continental Congress unanimously recognized in their Declaration and Resolves (October 1774) that Parliament's claim to power "in all cases whatsoever" was the foundation from which all other grievances flowed.

Alexander Hamilton ridiculed the notion that the revolution was about "three pence duty upon tea," arguing it was about the principle of Parliament's claim to unlimited power: "The parliament claims a right to tax us in all cases whatsoever... How ridiculous then is it to affirm that we are quarreling for the trifling sum of three pence a pound on tea, when it is evidently the principle against which we contend."

By February 1775, Benjamin Franklin made repealing the Declaratory Act his first condition for accepting any plan of union with Britain. When this condition was rejected, the path to armed conflict—beginning at Lexington and Concord in April 1775—became inevitable.

Codifying the Principle in Revolutionary Documents

The revolutionary documents that followed made explicit this fundamental objection to unlimited power. The "Declaration of the Causes and Necessity of Taking Up Arms" (July 1775), drafted by John Dickinson and Thomas Jefferson, explicitly asked: "But why should we enumerate our injuries in detail? By one statute it is declared that Parliament can 'of right make laws to bind us in all cases whatsoever.' What is to defend us against so enormous, so unlimited a power?"

The Declaration of Independence itself included the grievance that Britain was "declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever." More profoundly, the Declaration's philosophical framework directly paraphrased Adams' Moral Algorithm in its second paragraph: "That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed." This statement encapsulates the essence of Adams' principle—that government exists for specific purposes (to secure rights) rather than as an end in itself, and that governmental legitimacy is conditional upon serving these human ends.

The moral purpose of government is further reinforced in the Declaration's assertion that "whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness." This directly parallels Adams' notion that the people retain the right "to reform, alter, or totally change" government when their "protection, safety, prosperity and happiness require it."

Thomas Paine, in "The Crisis" (December 1776), declared that "if being bound in that manner is not slavery, then there is not such a thing as slavery upon earth" and that "so unlimited a power can belong only to God."

Madison's Constitutional Reflection

James Madison later articulated this understanding as the core principle of the Revolution. He wrote that "the fundamental principle of the Revolution was that the colonies were coordinate members with each other and with Great Britain of an Empire United by a common executive Sovereign, but not United by any common legislative Sovereign."

Madison's summation perfectly captured the revolutionary inversion: "The assertion by Great Britain of a power to make laws for the other members of the empire in all cases whatsoever ended in the discovery that she had a right to make laws for them in no cases whatsoever."

This principle—that legitimate government must operate within boundaries established by its purposes—would later inform the entire constitutional system of the United States. The Constitution's preamble echoes Adams' moral algorithm by establishing specific purposes: "establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty." The separation of powers prevents authority from concentrating in "any one man, family, or class of men." The amendment process institutionalizes the people's right "to reform, alter, or totally change" government when their wellbeing requires it.

The Continuing Relevance

This deeper understanding of the American Revolution reveals it not as a mere tax revolt but as a sophisticated philosophical rejection of unlimited governmental authority. The colonists articulated a vision where government derives legitimacy not from procedural correctness but from its service to human flourishing—a consequentialist view of political morality that evaluates governance by its outcomes rather than its processes.

This perspective challenges contemporary approaches to governance that focus primarily on procedural democracy while sometimes neglecting the substantive human ends that government is meant to serve. It reminds us that the constitutional system was designed not merely to establish democratic processes but to secure specific human goods: justice, tranquility, common defense, general welfare, and liberty.

The "Moral Algorithm" articulated by Adams functions as a clarifying statement that gives meaning to the entire revolutionary project. It establishes that governmental legitimacy is not self-validating but must be measured against its effects on human well-being. In doing so, it created an external standard against which all governmental power—including democratic power—must be judged.

This understanding transforms our view of American constitutional governance from a mere procedural framework to a moral project oriented toward specific human ends. The rejection of unlimited power "in all cases whatsoever" wasn't merely about who wielded authority, but about the fundamental purpose of political society itself.

As we navigate contemporary debates about governmental power and its proper limits, the founding generation's sophisticated response to the Declaratory Act offers a nuanced framework that transcends simplistic narratives of rebellion. Their revolution was fundamentally about establishing a government whose powers were bounded by its proper moral purposes—a principle that remains as relevant today as it was in 1776.

The Moral Algorithm: Discovering a Consistent Evaluative Framework for Constitutional Legitimacy

Beyond Mechanics: The Moral Architecture of Constitutional Design

When we study constitutional history, we often focus on the visible architecture—the three branches of government, federalism, checks and balances, and the amendment process. These mechanisms, while ingenious, represent only the outer manifestation of a deeper philosophical framework. What's truly remarkable about American constitutional thought is not merely its institutional arrangements but the consistent moral framework that animated and justified these arrangements across time.

This framework—what we might call the "Moral Algorithm" drawing from John Adams' articulation—provides a remarkably stable evaluative standard for governmental legitimacy that spans centuries of political thought. It suggests that beneath the procedural specifics of constitutional design lies a profound moral vision about government's proper role and limits.

Discovering the Through-Line of Constitutional Legitimacy

When we examine primary sources from the revolutionary period through early constitutional implementation, a striking pattern emerges. Despite differences in political affiliation, temperament, and specific policy preferences, the core founders maintained a remarkably consistent view about what makes government legitimate. This view centered on three principles:

1. Government exists to secure specific human goods (rights, safety, happiness, prosperity)
2. Governmental legitimacy is conditional upon serving these ends
3. The people retain ultimate authority to reform or replace governments that fail this purpose

This evaluative framework appears again and again across diverse texts and contexts, suggesting it was not merely rhetorical flourish but a deeply held conviction about political morality. Consider this progression:

• John Locke (1689): "The great and chief end, therefore, of men's uniting into commonwealths, and putting themselves under government, is the preservation of their property."
• Algernon Sidney (1698): "Government is not instituted for the good of the governor, but of the governed; and power is not an advantage, but a burden."
• George Mason (1776): "That government is, or ought to be, instituted for the common benefit, protection, and security of the people..."
• Thomas Jefferson (1776): "That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed."
• John Adams (1780): "Government is instituted for the common good; for the protection, safety, prosperity and happiness of the people..."
• James Wilson (1790): "Government, in my humble opinion, should be formed to secure and to enlarge the exercise of the natural rights of its members..."

What's fascinating about this intellectual lineage is not simply that these figures influenced one another (though they did), but that they maintained this consistent evaluative framework across dramatic political transformations—from colonial status to revolution to constitutional government to partisan division.

An Evaluative Framework, Not Just a Description

This moral algorithm functions not merely as a description of government but as an evaluative standard against which governmental action can be measured. It establishes governmental legitimacy as conditional rather than absolute, measurable rather than merely procedural, and purposive rather than self-justifying.

This represents a profound intellectual innovation. Traditional views of governance throughout most of human history had legitimized authority through divine right, tradition, conquest, or mere power. The revolutionary generation, building on Enlightenment thought, fundamentally inverted this relationship: government's legitimacy was now to be measured by its service to human flourishing.

This inversion created a new understanding of sovereignty itself. As James Wilson explained: "The sovereign, when traced to his source, must be found in the man." This relocated the moral center of political authority from the state to the individual—a revolutionary concept that transformed political philosophy.

From Moral Vision to Constitutional Structure

What makes this intellectual progression particularly fascinating is how this moral vision became translated into actual constitutional structures. The institutional arrangements were not merely pragmatic compromises but embodiments of this deeper philosophical framework.

For instance:

• Separation of powers operationalizes the concern that power concentrated in "any one man, family, or class of men" would likely be directed toward their private interest rather than the common good
• Federalism reflects the recognition that human goods like safety and happiness might require different policy approaches in different contexts
• Limited enumerated powers manifest the principle that governmental authority is bounded by its purposes rather than unlimited in scope
• The amendment process institutionalizes the people's right to "reform, alter, or totally change" government when their wellbeing requires it

This reveals a deeper reading of constitutional history than is typically presented. Rather than seeing the Constitution merely as a set of pragmatic accommodations or power-sharing arrangements, we can understand it as the institutional manifestation of a coherent moral vision about governmental legitimacy.

Beyond Original Meaning: A Living Moral Framework

This perspective offers something valuable to both originalist and living constitutionalist interpretive approaches. For originalists, it suggests that the Constitution's "original meaning" includes not just specific textual commitments but a moral framework for evaluating governmental legitimacy. For living constitutionalists, it provides a principled basis for evolution that remains anchored in founding values.

The moral algorithm creates what we might call a purpose-oriented constitutionalism—an approach that evaluates governmental action not merely by procedural correctness but by its service to constitutional purposes. This approach asks not just "does the government have the power to do X?" but "does this exercise of power serve the ends for which government was established?"

This purpose-oriented constitutionalism provides a potential bridge between competing interpretive schools because it acknowledges both the importance of founding principles and the need to apply those principles to changing circumstances.

Contemporary Implications: Recovering the Evaluative Framework

Recovering this evaluative framework has significant implications for contemporary constitutional discourse. Much current debate focuses on procedural questions about governmental authority while sometimes neglecting the deeper question of whether governmental action serves the purposes for which government exists.

A renewed focus on the moral algorithm might enrich constitutional discourse in several ways:

1. Recentering citizen judgment: The moral algorithm empowers citizens to evaluate governmental action not just for technical compliance but for consistency with the purposes of government
2. Transcending partisan divisions: By focusing on shared purposes rather than divisive mechanisms, the moral algorithm offers common ground for evaluating governmental legitimacy
3. Balancing stability and adaptation: The framework provides principles stable enough to give constitutional meaning continuity while flexible enough to address changing circumstances
4. Revitalizing civic education: Teaching the Constitution not just as a set of institutional arrangements but as a moral framework for governance could deepen civic understanding

Conclusion: Constitutional Interpretation as Moral Reasoning

This deeper reading of constitutional history suggests that constitutional interpretation is not merely a technical legal exercise but a form of moral reasoning about the proper purposes and limits of governmental power. The consistent evaluative framework provided by the moral algorithm offers a principled basis for this reasoning that transcends mere policy preference.

What emerges from this exploration is a vision of constitutionalism that is neither rigidly fixed in the past nor unmoored from founding principles. Instead, it represents a stable moral framework for evaluating governmental legitimacy across time—a framework that continues to inform our understanding of what government is for and what makes it legitimate.

The remarkable consistency of this framework across centuries of American political thought suggests it is not merely one possible approach to constitutional interpretation but the very moral core of the American constitutional project itself. By recovering this evaluative framework, we recover not just a historical artifact but a living tradition of reasoned judgment about the proper ends and limits of governmental power.