#jamilton

People always interpret Burr’s whole “talk less, smile more” philosophy as some kind of moral restraint, like he’s being careful not to do harm. But the musical itself doesn’t reward that reading. No one else treats waiting as a virtue—certainly not Washington, and definitely not Jefferson or Madison.

Although people frame this song as three evil besties joining an Anti-Hamilton club, when Burr enters this song, he’s not joining a righteous rebellion. He’s joining a complaint session about Hamilton’s power, but Jefferson and Madison don’t even really include him. Because he’s not a Democratic-Republican; he’s a man looking for a team that will let him hate in peace.

Burr’s grievances are personal, not political. Listen to how he talks in that song (“look in his eyes!”, “somebody has to stand up to his mouth!”). These aren’t policy critiques. They’re insults. They’re the kind of petty interpersonal slights that matter to Burr, because Hamilton’s existence is a mirror to everything Burr refuses to be. And then, linguistically (!!!), Jefferson and Madison go “Southern motherf***in’ Democratic-Republicans!” while Burr just goes “—Democratic-Republicans!” He literally doesn’t say Southern, because that’s not his identity. He’s tagging along. He’s not fighting for the South or for states’ rights; he’s fighting against Hamilton because he’s jealous.

Jefferson and Madison are talking about national credit, federal overreach, the South’s economy—and Burr’s just like, “well he’s smug and I hate him.”

Burr’s tragedy is that he doesn’t belong anywhere. The song starts with:

“It must be nice, it must be nice to have Washington on your side...”

and it ends with:

“we won’t be invisible, we won’t be denied.”

But Burr is invisible. He’s denied everywhere. Jefferson and Madison have a shared cause. Hamilton has Washington. Burr? He’s got...nothing. And that’s what drives him to latch onto other people’s causes. He doesn’t actually believe in their politics—he believes in not being left out. So when he sings along with them, it’s hollow. He doesn’t mean “we won’t be denied” politically; he means he won’t be denied recognition anymore.

Nobody sides with Burr because Burr never really picks a side.

The genius of Hamilton’s writing is that even in this scene—where Burr, Jefferson, and Madison are technically united—they’re not on the same page. Burr is motivated by envy, the others by ideology. Jefferson and Madison are fighting a system, Burr’s fighting a person. And when you fight a person instead of an idea, you’re already losing.

What’s even funnier (tragically funny, you know) is how the song pretends to unite them by the repeated line of:

“It must be nice, it must be nice To have Washington on your side.”

They’re all chanting the same refrain but meaning totally different things. Madison means: “he’s got too much influence.” Jefferson means: “our system is unbalanced.” Burr means: “I wish someone powerful liked me.” They’re singing in unison but completely out of harmony.

“If there’s a fire you’re trying to douse / you can’t put it out from inside the house.”

That’s such a subtle condemnation of Burr’s entire philosophy. Jefferson basically says: you can’t fix corruption by playing it safe from within the system. You have to act. You have to risk. And Burr—who’s been “talking less” and “smiling more” and waiting for his chance—can’t do that.

Jefferson even calls himself complicit for staying in the cabinet too long. Like he recognizes the Burr-esque impulse in himself—the temptation to wait, to play along—and rejects it. So what does he do? He takes an extreme, does not throw away his shot, and he resigns. He leaves Washington’s cabinet (Hamilton’s world, basically) and runs for president. Which, hilariously, is actually a Hamiltonian move in how extreme it is. Jefferson resigns to pursue power directly, not by scheming quietly in the background. He throws himself into the political spotlight, exactly like Hamilton always does. He doesn’t wait for it; he moves. Burr could never.

In fact, Jefferson takes the Hamiltonian extremes all the time, such as...well, siding with your enemies, as proven with The Room Where It Happens and The Election Of 1800s. He needs endorsement from Hamilton. The same man he spent a whole act trying to dismantle. The same man he resigned over. In Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story, that ideology he either adopted from Hamilton or always shared with him, will make him Hamilton’s successor. He says:

“I’ll give him this: his financial system is a work of genius. I couldn’t undo it if i tried...and, I tried.”

That’s not just political acknowledgment, that’s narrative surrender. Jefferson becomes the man who carries Hamilton’s ideology forward because he failed to destroy it. He inherits it. He becomes the reluctant guardian of Hamilton’s creation.

And then there’s Burr. President Jefferson: ... President Madison: ... —Burr’s the one introducing them. Burr’s the narrator of the narration.

The man who killed Hamilton is reduced to setting up the men who carry Hamilton’s story. Burr never got to “live” in the story; he only ever “tells” it. And even then, it’s not his story anymore. He’s narrating his own erasure, because he gets his last real words in The World Was Wide Enough, and those words are him admitting he was wrong.

And that’s what makes Washington On Your Side song so interesting!! Jefferson and Madison are supposed to be Burr’s allies here, but even they operate on an axis of action and conviction that Burr doesn’t share. He’s standing there throwing in little snide comments about Hamilton while Jefferson is literally narratively outgrowing him in real time.

Meanwhile, Burr spends the whole show pretending he’s the “reasonable” one, but his neutrality is actually cowardice. By the time he acts, he’s too late, and the action he does take (the duel) is the one that finally destroys him. He never learns how to take action with conviction—only in retaliation.