#stephen knott

In “What Jason Frank and Isaac Kramnick Forget About Hamilton,” Stephen F. Knott, author of Alexander Hamilton and the Persistence of Myth, refutes claims made in a recent New York Times Op-Ed that Alexander Hamilton was an elitist and wanted to “restore non-titled aristocracy to America.” This article is from the Foreign Policy Research Institute.

In a recent New York Times Op-ed (“What ‘Hamilton’ Forgets About Hamilton,” June 10, 2016) Jason Frank and Isaac Kramnick, both professors of government at Cornell University, attempt to push back against the recent wave of enthusiasm for Alexander Hamilton inspired by Lin-Manuel Miranda’s blockbuster musical. Appalled by what they consider an inappropriately charitable presentation of the historical Hamilton and his political views, they offer a stern rebuttal, and an indirect defense of Hamilton’s rival, Thomas Jefferson. Unfortunately, their revision is itself largely a repeat of tropes that have been part of the anti-Hamilton literature since the 1790s, which calls for a response of its own.

Frank and Kramnick’s central claim is that Alexander Hamilton “insisted on deference to elites” and thus wanted to “restore non-titled aristocracy to America.” To make matters worse, Hamilton had nothing but “contempt” and “disdain” for the common man. Frank and Kramnick also appear to endorse the centuries old slur first promulgated by the “populist” Thomas Jefferson (a “populist” who was one of the largest slave owners in Virginia) that Hamilton’s economic scheme “supported the rule of commercial oligarchs.” The identity of these 1790s “oligarchs” goes unmentioned, and their assertions rely on many such unsupported allegations.

The notion that Hamilton sought to “restore” (restore from when and where?) an American aristocracy is complete fiction. Hamilton addressed this accusation during the New York Ratifying Convention of 1788, where he observed that “I hardly know the meaning of this word [aristocracy] as it is applied . . . Who are the aristocracy among us? Where do we find men elevated to a perpetual rank above their fellow citizens; and possessing powers entirely independent of them . . . There are men who are rich, men who are poor, some who are wise, and others who are not . . . indeed every distinguished man is an aristocrat.” To the extent that Hamilton favored the creation of an “elite,” it was one composed of men of intellect and accomplishment, not one of birth. Hamilton was the personification of these qualities, for he had emerged from one of the most dysfunctional childhoods imaginable to improve his lot in life, ultimately rising to serve at the side of General, and later President, George Washington.

To label Hamilton an “elitist” twists the meaning of the term beyond all recognition. Interestingly, Hamilton, unlike the “populist” Jefferson, had a wide circle of friends, mostly fellow war veterans, while the Sage of Monticello isolated himself on his hilltop plantation far removed from the madding crowd. Hamilton, this “elitist,” this minion of the “oligarchs,” died without wealth and left his widow and his seven children reliant on the charity of friends. The accusation that Hamilton was a toady of the rich and well-born was first leveled against Hamilton by the Antifederalists and then later parroted by Jefferson and his lieutenants, including James Madison. Madison, as Mary Sarah Bilder recently revealed, went back and doctored some of his notes from the Constitutional Convention to bolster the image of Hamilton as a monarchy-loving Anglophile. Of course, being called a monarchist in the 1790s was the equivalent of being called a communist in the 1950s – it was a tactic designed to curtail debate and destroy one’s opponent, and the accusation alone had political impact even if could not be proven.

Hamilton was the nation’s first victim of the politics of personal destruction. Jefferson, and generations of Jeffersonian historians, considered him a power-hungry, people-hating plutocrat or an immigrant of questionable loyalty, who despite having fought with honor for his country’s independence, would be repeatedly accused of being a British sympathizer, or worse. Sadly, nativist elitists like John Adams and Thomas Jefferson could never accept a “bastard” immigrant from an obscure speck of an island in the Caribbean as their equal. Both men outlived Hamilton by twenty-two years, and spent part of that time spinning the historical record to portray Hamilton in the worst possible light.

Hamilton’s views on “who should govern” were far more complex than Frank and Kramnick contend. His skeptical view of human nature was not confined simply to “the lower classes.”  Like many enlightenment thinkers, Hamilton sought a balanced government, one where the various interests in society were pitted against one another, in hopes that the national interest, not the interest of any particular group, would prevail.  Hamilton believed that all individuals, regardless of wealth, were slaves to the passions of “avarice, ambition, and interest” and government must be designed in such a way as to mitigate the dangers inherent throughout the populace. Additionally, Hamilton understood that the nascent American government would collapse without the support of merchants, bankers, and shippers, and sought to enlist their support. But all of this was done to make the abstract provisions of the Constitution a reality – in other words, to create a nation. It was not done to stick it to the little man. Frank and Kramnick also “forget” that while Hamilton proposed lifetime terms for United States Senators, his proposal for a House of Representatives elected by universal male suffrage was far more democratic than that which ultimately emerged from the Constitutional Convention.

It is unfortunate that Frank and Kramnick continue to recycle clichés about Hamilton’s contempt for the common man – an accusation all the more regrettable if one considers Hamilton’s comparatively progressive views regarding the employment of African-Americans as soldiers in the American Revolution, his founding membership in the New York Society for the Manumission of Slaves and his proposal that all of its members free their slaves, his compassionate position on the status of native Americans, and his party’s support for Toussaint Louverture and his Haitian revolution (one that the “populist” Jefferson refused to assist out of fear of the “contagion” spreading into the American south and upending the Jeffersonian slavocracy). Hamilton also came to the conclusion during the Jay Treaty debate in the mid-1790s that slave owners who had lost their property to the British should not be compensated by having their slaves returned, as he noted that “the restoration of property is a favored thing yet the surrender of persons to slavery is an odious thing.” Hamilton’s objection was based on his interpretation of international law, but at times he seems to have been morally offended by the concept of slavery. “In the interpretation of Treaties things odious and immoral are not to be presumed,” and he added “Is not this, as it regards the rights of humanity, an odious sense?” This of course infuriated the populist Jefferson. Hamilton’s alleged disdain for the common man looked much different from the perspective of a slave, or a Native American, or a free black in the north, the latter of whom overwhelming supported Hamilton’s Federalist Party, thus earning the endearing nickname from the Jeffersonians as the “black Federalists.” While some assert that Alexander Hamilton was no abolitionist, in comparison to Thomas Jefferson, he was Frederick Douglass in a waistcoat and breeches.

“Hamilton” the musical got it right – Alexander Hamilton envisioned a society that allowed those with talent and ambition to “rise up.” And, it should be noted, Hamilton created an economic system and political institutions that would put the most elitist institution of all, slavery, on the path to extinction. But the accusation, so crudely put by Frank and Kramnick, that Hamilton had a “disdain for the lower classes” and, in case you missed it the first time, a “contemptuous attitude toward the lower classes,” will no doubt live on. This slur is gospel among far too many progressive historians and political scientists, who still see Charles Beard as cutting-edge, and who are convinced that money, self-interest, and a contempt for the common man is what motivated Alexander Hamilton, if not all of the framers. [Article source]

Note that the text as shared here has been approved by the author.

Teapot, 2009, 18th century Chinese export porcelain teapot and mixed media, 325x250x230mm. Private collection, London.

However, unlike the human body that only in Hollywood film can resist age reversal, objects can be subject to the magic of returning to a former state through highly skilled repair. For this blog I argue that this object magic is more apparent in the realm of the everyday economy of repair, than in the exceptional spaces of the studio, gallery or art school.

Glenn Adamson mentioned in the previous post on his experiences of curating the Gallery S O show FixFixFix that the non-art objects in his show were the most captivating. This is no surprise since it is in everyday life that the power of the perfect, smooth repair maintains its magical power. The artist might want to draw attention in some minor way to a repair, even with the use of a readymade, but the wider economy of fixing and repair – handymen, computer hardware technicians and car mechanics – depends on the ideal that an object can be returned to its pre-broken state, and for the labour that went into its making to disappear entirely.

There is a distinction between repair as an economic imperative and repair as leisure-time activity. One cannot under-emphasise the potential joy of opting to fix things, even when buying a ‘new one’ would be more efficient in terms of price and resources. You can buck the dominance of planned obsolescence through using your own hands: sewing buttons back on to your shirt, fixing a broken chair, mending a leaky pipe. But in the celebration of this craftsmanlike activity are we in danger of ignoring the everyday economy of repair and the social understanding that repair should be invisible? Repair in an everyday context is often less self-conscious, it desires to be hidden. The everyday repairman would opt for the best available domestic super glue, rather than the beautiful Rietveld Schröder house colours of the Sugru fixing agent. 

To resuscitate a former tale of my own (soon not to be) invisible labour of repair takes me back to an i-Pod that I broke during a party. Two factors – my status as an MA student, and the expense of this technology at this time – compelled me to engage with the economy of repair. I did not have the £150 or so to spare. I knew that the damage was only surface level as the headphones still worked when plugged in to the unit. It was only the screen that needed fixing as it did not display the track being played and instead showed the swirly, purple pattern of a broken LCD. 

On eBay I bought an iPod repair kit. A week later it arrived. It comprised of a screen with two small leads that led to a tiny microchip panel and a plastic tool, about four inches long with a wedge on the end. This tool was specifically designed to go along the outer casing of the i-Pod and prize apart the smooth plastic casing from the chassis.

iPod ‘Opening’ tool

The process was incredibly thorough and I followed the instructions that were written online precisely, step-by-step. The instructions alerted me to moments when it was absolutely necessary to take extra care. With the elements of the kit, the comprehensive online instructions, and the plastic tool, I was able to return the i-Pod back to its owner, as good as new.

I learnt a lot about the materiality of the i-Pod’s insides, but the success of this repair was contingent on the invisibility of my labour. I did not want to expose the production process at all. I wanted no sloppiness, no haphazard finish. Like most acts of repair I wanted the unit to return to its previous state, or seem even newer than it did before.

This promise of a return to a previous, better, state is essential to the everyday sociology of repair. It is the premise on which the marketing for various brands of superglue, Polyfilla and Mr Muscle is based.

There are of course some things that are more suitable for repair than others and the everyday repairman has to make a decision whether to conceal or reveal a repair. Visual signs of the repair of a computer, washing machine or toilet are rarely appreciated, whereas it is not such an issue if the glue between the cracks of a broken souvenir shows up – this might add to the character of the object in the eyes of the beholder, in much the same way as it does in de Vries’s work above. For a piece of furniture, signs of age and patina are often positively encouraged. Here we enter the contested realm of what level of disrepair is acceptable for any given object. Age, use and wear on the surface, is appreciated in some objects, but not in others.

For the decorator it is all about “making good”, making sure that to the naked eye interiors look well-made, clean, and ready for use. But there has to be a structure behind this surface treatment -otherwise, if the builder just works to please the eye, the same process (let's say damp) that initially caused a need for the repair could cause the damage again. Repairs are only good if they last the test of time.

Economies of fixing also depend on how things break. Just think of dropping a mug. Splintered into a thousand pieces, I think I would sweep it up and put it into the bin (even if it was a precious thing). With a few "clean" cuts I might get the araldite out, and I would only do it, if it could once again do the things that it formerly did. By comparison the conspicuous repair of the trained artist-designer seems less like a practical solution and more like a doorway into making audiences aware of the life of objects, expose our readymade culture and encourage thinking about an object’s innards.

This fragmented collection of thoughts is itself probably in need of much repair: a judicious re-edit, a clarification of its argument. I close merely with a call to think about the economies of repair, the different contexts that determine how this activity is undertaken, and how repair is object-specific. It is clearly a skill to be able to fix things, to turn a hand to something and renewed attention among designers and artists to this issue is welcome. However, in this celebration of fixing we should not forget that countless incredible repair projects are going on as we speak, many of which are completely invisible.

  Further reading

Elizabeth Shove, Hand, Ingram and Watson, The design of everyday life (Berg, 2007)

Glenn Adamson and Victoria Kelley (eds) Surface Tensions: surface finish and the meaning of objects, Manchester University Press, forthcoming (2013)