“In Republics of narrow extent,” Washington cautioned in this purged passage, “it is not difficult for those who at any time hold the reins of Power, and command the ordinary public favor, to overturn the established Constitution, in favor of their own aggrandisement.” Washington offered the blueprint of the modern demagogue, a Cassandra-like prophecy of executive overreach and populist fervor. His words eerily prefigure the rise of Andrew Jackson’s “spoils system,” Gov. Huey Long’s Louisiana fiefdom, and our current era of autocracy amplified by social media. Washington, having spurned a crown himself, recognized the siren song that could bewitch even ostensibly democratic leaders, particularly in polities where checks on power are easily subverted.
“Partial combinations of men, who though not in Office, from birth, riches or other sources of distinction, have extraordinary influence & numerous adherents” would subvert the very foundations of the republic, Washington warned. To become a demagogue, a president would need more than a powerful political party; he’d depend on a cabal of powerful citizens—the wealthy puppet masters, media barons, and shadow influencers—who could provide the scaffolding for a president to dismantle democratic norms. The enablers of tyranny, Washington predicted, wouldn’t be public servants, but private citizens who thought nothing of trading constitutional principles for a seat at the table of power.
Washington, who transitioned seamlessly from general to president and back to private citizen, could easily imagine a demagogue giving in to the perilous temptation to use martial power as a political cudgel. “By debauching the military force, by surprising some commanding citadel, or by some other sudden & unforeseen movement, the fate of the Republic is decided,” he warned, intimating that the president could deploy troops for domestic political ends, quelling protests, rounding up people he deems undesirable, and undermining electoral processes.
But then, suddenly, there’s good news. Washington’s analysis in this excised section pivots to a cautious optimism about large republics—at a time when the United States territory extended only to the Mississippi River. “But in Republics of large extent, usurpations can scarcely make its way through these avenues,” Washington writes to “Friends & Fellow-Citizens,” in an address that was published in newspapers rather than delivered to Congress. “The powers and opportunities of resistance of a wide extended and numerous nation, defy the successful efforts of the ordinary military force, or of any Collections which wealth and patronage may call to their aid.” Echoing James Madison in Federalist No. 10, he places faith in size as democracy’s invisible shield. The American experiment, sprawling across half a continent, was to be a Gordian knot too complex for any would-be Alexander to slice through.