This chapter discusses the contested place of the Declaration of Independence in black political thought. As a document that provided a rationale for American independence, the Declaration of Independence in its own way also provided one for black political equality in the United States. This tension between intention and interpretation has made the Declaration stubbornly immune from attack by black intellectuals, politicians, and movement leaders. With rare exception, the Declaration has been attacked mostly for its exclusivity, not its content or core ethos. Even Critical Race Theory’s (CRT) modest dissent from the Declaration has been limited in its ability to transform the persistence of black support for it, making arguments for CRT’s abandonment of America’s founding principles ring hollow. Instead, the history of black political thought from Frederick Douglass to W. E. B. Du Bois to Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, stands squarely on the side of the Declaration’s essential truths, while admonishing America’s enduring failure to live up to them.

Historian Carl Becker once said that every generation rewrites history to suit its needs and according to its perspectives. This twenty-first-century collection of essays on the Declaration partly validates his claim and partly does not. Probably the chief way in which this collection differs from earlier efforts is in its broadened horizons. There is a systematic effort to consider the Declaration in relation to groups and concerns that received little attention in the past – women, labor, Native Americans, the international resonances of the document. But there are familiar themes as well, though these are mostly treated differently from the past. The intellectual roots of the Declaration is indeed a familiar topic, but the century or so since Becker’s book has enriched and deepened our grasp of the intellectual sources and, perhaps even more deeply, of their meaning. Not often emphasized in previous treatments are the religious and theological influences. Themes like the relation of the Declaration to the political context from which it emerged, the legal basis of the document, its main ideas, the Declaration and slavery – these are all topics that have a long history but which receive new treatment here based on new scholarship.

This chapter re-examines slavery and abolition in the writing and reception of the Declaration of Independence. Far from being marginal parts of the nation’s founding document, as previous generations of scholars asserted, both slavery and abolition proved to be essential to the making and meaning of the Declaration. Indeed, during and after the American Revolution, the Declaration testified to the nation’s high abolitionist ideals and the enduring problem of slavery in American statecraft. By examining not only Jefferson’s ideas about black freedom in the Revolutionary era but a wide range of reformers who meditated on it as well – including African American writers and reformers like Benjamin Banneker – this essay argues that the Declaration itself remains a testament to the conflicted nature of emancipation in the American mind.

This essay examines first the understanding of sex equality by the philosophic forebears of the US Declaration of Independence, Thomas Hobbes and John Locke. Hobbes was the more thoroughgoing egalitarian of the two. He insisted that men were not inherently superior to women, either in strength or prudence. Locke by contrast wrote that in the conjugal union, even in nature, while the union by mutual compact could be limited to whatever was needed for raising children, still, because of the need to have some authority stronger and more able, men were entitled to rule the household. Despite this public claim that men are the “abler” sex, Locke’s private writings showed him to be much more gender egalitarian than Jefferson himself.

As part of the major premise of the Declaration’s syllogism and of a general theory of rightful government, it is unlikely that the main ideas in the Declaration’s second paragraph exist as separate, free-floating nuggets of indeterminate meaning. My task in this essay is to reconstruct the theory of rightful government contained in that paragraph in order to progress toward fixing meaning for those ideas – equality, rights, liberty, and others – that have been so important to the self-understanding and political aspirations of Americans from 1776 on.

That the Declaration of Independence could be considered from the perspective of rhetoric might seem rather obvious, if not downright self-evident. Even so, appreciating how Jefferson thought about language not as an abstract concept but as a lived and material practice can help us appreciate the text of the Declaration from different perspectives. The text is shot through with the histories of race, nation, empire, and belonging that characterized the ideology of American revolutionary republicanism, and with Jefferson’s thinking about these forces and his own anxious place in them. In fact, despite and perhaps even in part because of his own difficulties with public speaking, Jefferson thought about the ability to access and marshal rhetorical exemplars and put them to use in legal and political argument as an elemental part of what it meant to be an effective citizen. His thinking about material rhetoric, about the absorption of what one read through notes, commentary, and commonplace books, turns out to be a critical component of how he thought about the legitimacy of the American project and of how he framed that project in successive drafts of the Declaration itself.

In the West, liberty and equality emerged as individual rights from theological speculations about the nature of God and human beings, and the relationship of human beings to each other and to God. It was a natural theology in which God is beneficent and glorifies in what God has created, having made a world in which it is possible for human beings to pursue happiness. Derived primarily from the writings of John Locke, that natural theology was embraced and expanded upon by Thomas Jefferson and articulated in the Declaration of Independence. The Declaration’s natural theology foundation holds that liberty serves God’s purpose: preservation of creation and flourishing in the pursuit of happiness. And liberty is equal liberty because, as Locke’s philosophy and Jefferson’s Declaration proclaim, human beings’ equality is more than a right; it is a fact of creation. For Locke and Jefferson, and for the “American mind” of the founding era, the theology underlying the Declaration implies duties to one another. Without such obligations beyond the self, egoism would lead to confusion as everyone would assert their own interests, and God’s purpose would not be realized.

Simultaneously an assertion of universal natural rights and the unique story of a particular peoplehood, the Declaration of Independence has from the beginning played a central role in the ongoing struggle over the ever-contested meaning of American identity. Though its ringing phrases have at times become occasions for smug self-congratulation, more often, the Declaration has presented an opportunity for self-evaluation, offering an internal critique of American practices that fall short of the claims the Declaration makes about American values and character. In this sense, the Declaration has become a capacious and evolving civic myth that in its best moments has invoked – and cultivated – a pluralistic solidarity out of volitional adherence to civic ideals and participation in democratic rituals that has substituted for the “natural” ascriptive allegiances characteristic of ethnonationalisms. The essay also suggests that this story of peoplehood was within the scope of Jefferson’s own intention. Through common commitment to the principles of the Declaration, Americans might unite as a nation.

This chapter explores how the Declaration of Independence was drafted and ratified. Congress created and assigned the task of drafting a declaration of independence to a committee of lawyers. When the draft went to the Congress, lawyers like Edward Rutledge had their chance to weigh in. The draft document and the final version was a legal document designed to place rebellion on a legal foundation. Jefferson later recalled that his draft of the Declaration of Independence merely recombined ideas that had long been discussed, and terminology long adopted, by Congress. The Declaration assumed independence, otherwise it would have had no foundation. Following this logic, as the members did, surely Jefferson among them, the Declaration was simply stating the reasons – a justification like the Declaratory Act of 1766, by which Parliament explained its authority over the colonies – for an event already transpired. The ringing elaboration of the rights of mankind, various borrowings from John Locke, echoes of natural law, and the language of prior resolves and declarations were not really pertinent to a declaration for the independence of a continent, but make sense in the more limited framework of Virginia constitutional change.

This chapter situates the Declaration of Independence in relation to another founding document of the United States, the federal Constitution. It assesses the Declaration’s role in debates over the Constitution, first during the latter’s framing in 1787, then in the struggle for ratification, and then later as political actors sought to interpret each document in light of the other. From the outset, debate over the Constitution highlighted the Declaration’s multivalence as well as its rhetorical power. Both defenders and opponents of the Constitution have sought to show how their cause best aligned with the ideals and aspirations expressed in the Declaration. Anti-federalists and their successors constructed a powerful narrative which juxtaposed the Declaration’s call to liberty with the Constitution’s blueprint for authority. Yet there was from the beginning an equally strong tradition that saw the Constitution as a consummation of the Declaration’s promise. Either way, this chapter argues, the Declaration continues to help shape the meaning of the Constitution – and to have its own meaning remolded in turn.

Between 1774 and 1787, greater condemnation of the slave trade occurred from mainly Christian individuals and groups, notably Quakers, than was the case before the American War of Independence. The humanitarian arguments made, however, did not translate into coordinated campaigning against continuance of the slave trade. Both Continental Congresses banned slave importations as part of a wider package of non-importation measures on British goods, but neither had any authority to impose enforcement measures. Jefferson’s attempt to insert a clause into the Declaration of Independence to prohibit slave importations backfired as he penned words stretching far beyond the required remit of such a clause and was forced to withdraw his statement. The Confederation Congress under the Articles of Confederation lacked the political authority to deal with slave imports. Yet positive activity occurred at state level. Delaware and Vermont banned the slave trade in their state constitutions of 1776 and 1777 respectively. The Bill of Rights included in the Massachusetts Constitution of 1780 proscribed slave imports. The New Hampshire state constitution of 1783 also banned slave imports. In 1778 Virginia passed a statute to end slave importations to the state. The Pennsylvania gradual abolition of slavery law in 1780 incorporated a bill in the same state from the previous year that banned slave imports. Abolitionist views spread widely as a result of efforts by Anthony Benezet and other Quakers, but there was no national campaign against the slave trade. South Carolina was the state where the most acrimonious arguments occurred over the slave trade. The state legislature reopened Charleston to slave importations in 1783 and over the next four years thousands of Africans were imported. Divisions underscored the reality that proscribing the entire slave trade to the United States could only happen under the aegis of national political authority and that was absent in 1787.

By the end of 1803, it appeared that controversies over the transatlantic slave trade had been largely overcome in the United States. All states by then had stopped slave imports, including South Carolina, the most recalcitrant state dealing with this issue. The issue of the slave trade, however, came to the fore dramatically as a political issue with the acquisition of the Louisiana Territory by the United States in 1803 and the subsequent reopening of South Carolina’s slave trade for the first time since 1787. The massive increase in US-owned territory through the Louisiana Purchase held out the possibility of further demand for slave labour, with Charleston acting as an entrepôt for furnishing new African imports across the southwest United States to New Orleans and Natchez. But there was no consensus among politicians either at federal or state level that this was a desirable outcome. The years between 1803 and 1806 were therefore marked by bitter controversies about whether to reopen the slave trade to South Carolina and then, after that had taken place, whether the trade should remain open. Jefferson’s presidential message of December 1806, looking forward to the time when Congress could intervene constitutionally to prohibit the slave trade, gave notice that the issue would be subject to detailed scrutiny in the national legislature at the first available opportunity. Debates on the slave trade accordingly were regularly held in Congress and in South Carolina’s state legislature in late 1806 and 1807 and the final result was for Congress to prohibit the slave trade to the United States from 1 January 1808. This was achieved without significant abolitionist pressure or campaigning. In Congress, few representatives dwelt upon the morality and cruelty of the slave trade but upon the practical measures needed to prohibit it. Slave importations to the United States were banned at the first moment constitutionally that action on this matter could be taken.

The Framers at the Constitutional Convention were initially uncertain regarding how the President should be elected. For most of the convention, they favored appointment by Congress, but fears that the President would become too dependent on Congress persuaded them to entrust his selection to an independent body of electors – the Electoral College. In the Framers’ expectation, however, the Electoral College would just identify and nominate potential candidates; the House of Representatives would do the actual electing, selecting the winner from among the top candidates nominated by the College. Moreover, the Framers envisioned that the choice of President would be made on meritocratic, not partisan, grounds. After the Washington administration, however, national political parties emerged, transforming the Presidential election into a partisan contest. In this newly partisan environment, each party assumed the responsibility for selecting its nominee, and they initially did so through informal discussions among prominent party leaders.

Early in the nineteenth century, the political parties formalized their nomination process, entrusting the choice of nominee to their congressional caucuses. Soon though, concerns about representation and corruption began to undermine the legitimacy of the process. In 1824, in an effort to displace the congressional caucus process, state Democratic-Republican legislative caucuses in five different states nominated five different candidates for the party. The result was disastrous, with the five candidates splitting the Electoral College vote and triggering the contingent election process. In 1832, keenly aware of the need for a centralized process that would select one nominee for the party, the Democrats settled upon holding a national convention of delegates from the various states to select their nominee. The creation of the national party convention, however, did not democratize the process as much as reformers hoped. As the first national party conventions revealed, most of the delegates were state and local officeholders and prominent citizens. Ordinary voters still remained largely excluded from the process.

When remembering America’s first ladies, there is a general assumption that these women were the wives of the presidents. This is not surprising since, with the exception of James Buchanan, all the presidents have been married men. However, several presidents were widowers or husbands of women who could not assume their duties. These men had to rely on women who were neither their wives nor their companions as stand-in first ladies with the primary duty of entertaining visitors to the White House. They included daughters Martha “Patsy” Jefferson Randolph, Martha Johnson Patterson, and Margaret Woodrow Wilson; nieces Emily Tennessee Donelson and Harriet Lane Johnston; daughters-in-law Angelica Singleton Van Buren and Priscilla Cooper Tyler; and sisters Mary Arthur McElroy and Rose Cleveland. They were real persons who each brought a unique experience to their work, which, unlike the service of their more famous married counterparts, has long been forgotten.

The conclusion proposes alternative ways to think about Christian normativity, drawing on the concepts of polydoxy and religious autonomy from Alvin Reines, with additional support from Catherine Keller and Laurel Schneider, and the concept of theological disobedience, derived from Louis Michael Seidman’s notion of constitutional disobedience.

The electoral college’s provisions for contingent elections of the president and vice president blatantly violate political equality, directly disenfranchise hundreds of thousands of Americans, have the potential to grossly misrepresent the wishes of the public, make the president dependent upon Congress, give a very few individuals extraordinary power to select the president, have the potential to select a president and vice president from different parties, and fail to deal with a tie for third in the electoral college. In addition, any resolution of a congressional choice of the president is likely to be tainted with charges of unsavory transactions. It is no wonder that even the most stalwart defenders of the electoral college choose to ignore contingent elections in their justifications of the system of electing the president.

The first chapter offers an introductory discussion of the major developments in scholarship that serve as points of departure for this study: (1) the problem of anti-temple biases in scholarship, which are rooted in latent antisemitic tendencies inherited by modern biblical scholarship; (2) recent developments in understanding the early Jewish character of the Jesus movement, which challenge previous assumptions about the so-called Parting of the Ways with special emphasis on recent discussions of Matthews social location (Matthew within Judaism); (3) growing concerns about historical methodology and the issue of authenticity in Jesus research. In addition, the introduction highlights the work of scholars (e.g., Matthew Thiessen, David Sim, Ulrich Luz, Donald Senior, W.D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, Jr.) who have made the case that in certain instances Matthew appears to present us with more historically plausible accounts of traditions also narrated by Mark, such as Jesuss teaching about hand washing (cf. Matt 15:1–20; cf. Mark 7:1–23), his activity in gentile regions (cf. Matt 15:21–22; cf. Mark 7:24), and the mocking of the Roman soldiers (Matt 27:28; cf. Mark 15:17).

Presidents Jefferson and Madison’s Republican-backed policies prompted new waves of state interposition. Federalist-dominated state legislatures in New England passed interposition resolutions that protested:Jefferson’s Embargo Acts (1807–1809); United States v. Peters (1809) emphasizing the Supreme Court’s finality over constitutionality; the recharter of the Bank of the United States; and Madison’s efforts to mobilize state militias before the War of 1812. After the controversy over the Alien and Sedition Acts and Jefferson’s election in 1800, Americans might have expected Republicans to advocate strict construction of national powers under the Constitution while Federalists would urge broader powers. However, defenses of states’ rights never belonged exclusively to one political viewpoint or party. Americans debated whether sounding the alarm resolutions and state interposition were legitimate state actions – and some asked if and when they would be justified in more forcefully resisting federal law, notably during the Hartford Convention in 1814 that called for constitutional amendments to reduce the power of Southern states and the repeal of the Three-Fifths Clause.