(p.211) Appendix I A Defense of APD Defined as Durable Shifts in Federal Authority
(p.211) Appendix I A Defense of APD Defined as Durable Shifts in Federal Authority
The account of APD presented in this book takes off from the conceptual tools introduced by Karen Orren and Stephen Skowronek, who had defined APD as “durable shifts in governing authority.”1 I have argued that the most thoroughgoing “shift” in governing authority, short of total revolution, would be the remaking of the terms of the original compact itself, and in particular, the settled understanding of federal authority. This was what the Second Founding achieved, when the compact between the states was formally abolished and the relationship between them was reconfigured by layering a new conception of democratic sovereignty—of the collective We the People of the United States—over the old one. The Second Founding would become the template for all developments to come because the constitutional text that was drafted to codify for posterity the relationship between the federal government and the states placed enough in there for advocates of either federal “powers” or states’ “rights” to invoke their half of the document for a future battle. It further locked both conceptions of union in Article 5, which made amendments to the Constitution prohibitively difficult so that a Lovers’ Quarrel at the ideational level had to ensue along and only along original lines before development, at the ideational and institutional level, could occur. Political actors must search for APD because nothing in the words of the Constitution guarantees victory to either conception of federalism promulgated in the Two Foundings. Put differently, since APD must occur on “site,” the two uniquely American sites that are primus inter pares against all other sites are the federal government and the state governments, the twin pillars of the American polity enshrined in Article 5.2 This definition may be more restrictive of what counts as APD than some would like, but it does so in the service of identifying the greatest (p.212) developmental stakes so as to discriminate trivial change from development, and development from American political development . While it may be open to debate whether or not durable shifts to or from other authorities are developmental, it is impossible to argue that durable shifts in authority from the federal to the state governments or vice versa are not developmental. Durable shifts in federal authority are the greatest attainable goal of American political mobilization, because they remake America’s social compact.
The APD field’s preoccupation with institutions and, in particular, the American state already points to this conclusion. By “governing authority,” Orren and Skowronek “mean the exercise of control over persons or things that is designated and enforceable by the state.”3 Their instinct to focus on the state is correct, though it needs elaboration. The “state” is exactly what is contested and elusive in America because federalism confounds its meaning, and unpacking it reveals a definition within the definition. This is possibly why APD scholars have long interrogated Marx and Weber, asking if they were wrong or if America is simply sui generis.4 And unsurprisingly, generations of scholars have grappled with and rendered different accounts of the oddity of the American state.5 “Weakness” was probably not the most precise description, but, William Novak notwithstanding, the contrast with Europe’s states was no myth.6 Yet the explanation as to why was always closer to home than our comparative forays had yielded. Once we recognize that with divided sovereignty comes a divided state, we would know, as Stephen Skowronek and Brian Balogh did, to look beyond conventional bureaucratic structures and the nation’s capital for manifestations of the American state kept “out of sight.”7 To say that democracy came before bureaucracy here is also to say that for most of the nineteenth century, the Anti-Federalists and their descendants defending states’ rights and a different conception of confederated sovereignty spoke more loudly than the descendants of the Federalists. America did without a bureaucratic state in the nineteenth century not because citizens were too free to have bothered to build one, but because the Second Founding came on the heels of the First, and the new federalism acknowledged and institutionalized so many veto points in the political system that it encouraged battles over policy to become battles of jurisdiction—the accumulation of which would be a bare-bones, anemic state compared to those in Europe.
To be sure, something happened during and after the Progressive Era, when the “state of courts and parties” came under intense attack, and this is possibly the reason why the era draws so much scholarly attention from the APD community. There are relatively few books in the APD canon that focus on the period before the Civil War, because the federalism of the 1800s was a relatively eventless equilibrium until the onset of “Yankee Leviathan,” “Building a New American State,” and the “Forging of Bureaucratic Autonomy.”8 APD was (p.213) at the vanguard of “bringing the state back in” because scholars in the field have always understood the state to be the preeminent site at which developmental innovations come together.9 If so, the essential cause that underlies existing accounts of an “exceptional” state on both historical ends of the Progressive interregnum, before which the American state was “out of sight” and after which the American state emerged as a convoluted maze, was the alternating rhythm of the Lovers’ Quarrel.
Three benefits emerge from my definition of APD as “durable shifts (expansions or retrenchments) of federal authority.” First, understanding the new federalism as the master ordering and disordering mechanism in American politics accounts for the paradoxes that feature so often in American politics. In particular, this definition is consistent with why APD so frequently amalgamates the new with the same-old, why one step forward often also coincides with two steps backward, and why America’s moral saga is so bittersweet. The familiar story of how national goals were executed by parochial administrators, for example, explains the racialization of ADC (Aid to Families with Dependent Children), but it also highlights the ubiquity of the federalism explanation.10 In particular, this account of APD clarifies the different methodological approach of Orren and Skowronek and another APD scholar, Paul Pierson. If Orren and Skowronek highlight the confluence of different historical legacies impinging on the present, Paul Pierson’s approach of “placing” an event in time—even though he introduces the useful concepts of “sequences,” “junctures,” and even “multiple paths”—conceives of time as a single stream.11 Pierson’s goal of encouraging methodological scrupulousness and generalizable propositions that can “travel … beyond a specific time and space” is a worthy one, and one shared by APD scholars.12 However, the “placement” perspective takes a neater and more unidirectional view of time than other developmentalists normally do, and supplies a more limited framework for analyzing reversals and cycles in political time—key features in American politics. In unraveling the developmental sequences of the Two Foundings, the theory of APD and APT presented here embraces Orren and Skowronek’s challenge to put “politics at the center of developmental analysis.”13 The deep contradictions of our constitutional tradition are not just evident in the institutions of one era and the needs of the next, as the Progressives were the first to argue, but they were there at the beginning, and have been with us since.14 This account of APD, then, encourages us to zoom in on the rough and tumble, the twists and turns that attend to the doing and course of American politics. The Federalists’ new federalism, the oxymoronic layering of national over confederated-state sovereignties, is much more than an institutional boundary condition; it is both the thing political actors fight to define and the method by which the fight is fought. It is the “master problematic” of APD, permitting change amid (p.214) fundamental continuity in American politics because the lynchpin of the compact is itself the site of as well as the means for political contestation.15 When Madison declared the Constitution to be “partly federal, partly national” in Federalist 37, he was trying to make a contradiction go away at the same time when he and his compatriots were creating a tangled knot. The Constitution did not create a compound republic in which the partly federal and partly national elements were stably and constantly integrated. Ours is a colloidal republic in which the powers of its component parts were never conclusively fixed because from the beginning, as Madison put it in Federalist 37, “no language is so copious as to supply words and phrases for every complex idea.” The new federalism was quintessentially such an object.16
Second, this account of APD clarifies the field’s distinction from History, and helps us center on the most resilient features of American politics. Like History, APD revels in the twists and turns of causal sequencing, but unlike History, my account of APD focuses on the first cause of American politics. Contingency is real, and it matters, of course, but APD, by my account, consists in the study of the most frequently recurring, or the most resilient causes. Whereas durable shifts in governing authority could conceivably occur by chance, durable shifts in federal authority cannot occur by chance any more than the Constitution—in either its written or interpreted form—can change by chance. If there is one thing in American politics that has never altered as a result of chance, it is conscious higher-lawmaking by We the People to determine the nature of the nation’s political identity. From the beginning, Americans were conscious about their constitutional endeavors, whether they were directed in the drafting of royal charters or state constitutions. This jealousy followed the skeptics of the new Constitution into Philadelphia, where Hamilton would later claim that it was by “reflection and choice” that seeming reconciliation was found. The new federalism, the first product of the new science, encapsulated the primacy of reflection by making the contest of sovereignties the burden (or the privilege) Americans have had to face ever since. Madison was correct in Federalist 51 when he asked, “But what is government itself, but the greatest of all reflections on human nature?” The citizens of the small republics (states) and the large republic of which they became a part have been debating this prompt for over two centuries. Put most simply, my account of APD guides us from the infinite variety of historical facts and helps us to identify the most significant among: those that implicate the foundational question of American politics—the question of national identity.
Third and finally, articulating the nation’s developmental fault line also gives us a concrete standard to make interpretive sense of American politics, an underlying impulse in much of APD scholarship.17 Examining the political development of any country, not just America, “is tantamount to interrogating (p.215) the national premise,” as Orren and Skowronek noted.18 If so, to define development as durable shifts in federal authority is also to identify what is exceptional about our particular species of political change. Whereas for some other polities, development is the midway accomplishment between revolution and stasis, American political development occurs on our own unique axis between consolidated federal authority and the principles of the Second Founding versus confederated state sovereignties and the principles of the First Founding. By joining political thought, or the principles of the Two Foundings, with political development, the theory of APD and APT presented here aims to explicitly connect and theorize the relationship between cultural/normative and institutional/empirical enquiries.19 It also articulates the normative standards by which development is judged, helping us think through what political victory means in the America context. Though we are not locked in Locke, Hartz was correct that Americans are locked in a developmental frame, and one created by our start-state conditions. But Hartz was wrong to say that we are a nation of consensus, because while the framework of the Lovers’ Quarrel is shared, the sides are most definitely not. My definition invites us to stop thinking of culture as merely a “boundary condition,” but rather as the contested or bifurcated source of political justification in the United States.20 When we appreciate the indigenous driver of APD—a Lovers’ Quarrel that is both anachronistic and antagonistic—we need no longer see “development” as an oxymoron. As long as the two sovereignties are on the same page, American political development can produce, and indeed probably has produced, changes far beyond what even revolution can produce. Foundationalists and developmentalists can each have their day. This is why there are no permanent truths; only generational truths. There are no permanent winners or losers in APD, only the circadian rhythm of the Lovers’ Quarrel.
What “Durable Shifts in Federal Authority” Excludes
It may be useful to identify some implications of the definition of APD presented here. By my account, APD occurs when the federal government is empowered to do that which it could not do before, or when the federal government loses the authority to do that which it could do before. American political development cannot occur unless the zero–sum game between federal and state authorities is played to produce a new equilibrium, though of course political development of a generic variety will continue to transpire whether or not the Lovers’ Quarrel occurs. One implication that follows is that in domains where federal authority has been relatively unilateral because the problem of collective action prevented a viable states-led alternative, such as in foreign (p.216) relations (where federal authority is oriented externally) and to some extent in postal delivery and old-age insurance (where federal authority is oriented internally), there has been less vociferous of a Lovers’ Quarrel, and therefore more scope for neo-Federalist intervention.21 Another implication is that two important kinds of “shifts”—power shifts between state and society, and inter-branch shifts at the federal level—are not, strictly, APD. Both exceptions point to the all-consuming nature, for better or for worse, of the Lovers’ Quarrel.
Let me explain why. Any definition, including Orren and Skowrone’s, which focuses on shifts in authority, would entail that APD is not, directly, about power shifts between state and society. To say that APD is defined with durable shifts in federal authority is to say that APD is not directly concerned with the governed, such as measured by the rights and liberties of those burdened by authority, but it is concerned with authority, as Orren and Skowronek rightly note.22 This is an implication of the fact that while private citizens or groups of citizens organize to influence the nature of the authority under which they live, they do not, by themselves, possess formal authority. Rights in and by themselves are rarely mandates for actions; they are certainly not self-enforcing. Indeed, individuals could have no part in the Lovers’ Quarrel until the Fourteenth Amendment because the Constitution, up until then, was concerned only with federal powers and states’ rights. The story of the expansion of civil rights is a major story in American history, to be sure, but it is a story at most about political development, but not American political development until the account addresses the plot of how federal authority shifted to bring about such expansion.
Although I do not intend for this definition in any way to trivialize the efforts mounted by generations of civil rights activists, I do hope it helps to explain the perception, held by most modern liberals and neo-Federalists, that America has always dragged her feet and remains one step behind Europe in terms of race relations, the welfare state, women’s rights, and so forth.23 As authority is “plenary,” in America it is shared between the federal and state governments in a zero–sum relationship that permeates the United States territorially and legally.24 Corporations, interest groups, individuals, and even Indian tribes are creatures of one or the other sovereignty or both, and their causes can advance only if they petition one or both sovereignties, and if their political agenda is successfully grafted onto the national compact newly reconfigured to make space for it. This may also explain why not every constitutional amendment would count as an instance of APD; only the ones that altered the nature of the federal compact or the powers of the federal government vis-à-vis the states were. These may include the Bill of Rights and the Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, Seventeenth, and Twenty-Third Amendments.
(p.217) One further implication of this definition, then, is that interest-group politics and social movements that do not graft their claims unto reconstitutional agendas are likely to hover in the shadow of the two preeminent identities that crowd out all other debates and claims. For example, consider the Civil War and race relations, sometimes posited on the one hand to satisfy certain criteria to be a watershed moment in American politics, and yet often also thought of as an unfinished movement or even one overturned by backlash.25 As I argued in Chapter 4, the Civil War and Reconstruction era was developmental not because of the Thirteenth Amendment, morally significant as it was, but because of the Fourteenth Amendment, which triggered a seismic reconfiguration of what the federal government can do by turning the Bill of Rights from a guarantee of states’ rights to an instrument of federal authority. This is what happened when the North won the war, and the Radical Republicans passed the Reconstruction amendments, remade liberalism, and turned the United States into a singular noun when it was plural before.26
Indeed, my definition illuminates why of the “organization of private interests” in America, John R. Commons observed, “no other country in the world presents so interesting a spectacle.”27 This spectacle emerged in part because the American state often could not do what was asked of it; when the boundaries of the public are subject to rigorous contest, the private must step in to perform the public work. This is why a sizeable portion of the literature on American politics, at least since Tocqueville, has examined the role of parties, voluntary associations, and interest groups as the critical intermediary between the state and society. The people need parties because the Constitution invites political struggle and organization to determine who the people are and what they want.28 Interest groups and other “parastate” institutions harness ideology and interest to form coalitions so that they can influence policy at the local and national levels.29 And the study of parties and “parastate” institutions and the nature of American federalism intersect because the problem of collective action is particularly heightened (and the study of political science especially interesting) in a large republic constituted by two conceptions of We the People. If the United States were a purely confederated system, all politics would be local; and if it were a purely unitary system, all politics would be national. Because American politics must be both, it is often also neither, and so actors and groups from other sectors of society must be called in when the Lovers’ Quarrel is trapped in impasse. So much of our politics is driven by kaleidoscopic and disparate configurations of citizens organizing themselves to bring about durable shifts in federal authority because there are two (and often contradictory) points of access in a federal system and it is unclear which levels of government represent “The People.” Understood in this context, parties in the nineteenth century and the partial displacement of these (p.218) parties with the explosion of other political organizations during the Progressive Era represented variant answers to the same confounding structure.30 State and local parties in the nineteenth century and interest groups in the twentieth century were period-specific ways of organizing coalitions of voters in line with reigning conceptions of union that had privileged distributive issues and confederative democracy in the nineteenth century, and regulatory or redistributive issues and national democracy in the twentieth century. The interrelated stories of the decline of parties, the rise of interest-group pluralism, and the administrative state describe and explain the reconceptualization of federalism and the expansion of federal authority that would begin at the turn of the twentieth century.
Other than shifts from state to society, durable shifts in inter-branch authority also do not directly count as APD, by my account. Scholars have typically lumped federalism with a string of institutional features, such as the separation of powers, checks and balances, and judicial review, which jointly describe the American political system, as if these innovations were of equal magnitude and part of the same explanation for how Washington works (or fails to work). Typically, the textbook language of the “division of authority between the federal and state governments” emphasizes the parallel to the separation (and hence division) of powers.31 But the horizontal and vertical distributions of power in the Constitution are very different. Advocates of states’ rights can call on the First Founding to ground their doctrine; no one branch of the federal government can. This is why differences over conceptions of federalism led once to Civil War on the one hand, while differences over the meaning and scope of the separation of powers has not. Indeed, the separation of powers operates in the orbit of the Lovers’ Quarrel. The reason, I propose, is that when the framers gathered in Philadelphia, they were not dealing with a tabula rasa with regard to federalism, though to a much greater extent they were when it came to the separation of powers. The Federalists understood the Anti-Federalists’ fear of consolidation, which was why they wisely and calculatedly proposed horizontal dispersion in return for vertical concentration. It was the latter proposal, of course, that proved to be the major source of quarrel; and this had much to do with the fact that while there was a prior conception of federalism, there had not been a separation of powers until the Second Founding. As Richard Neustadt has noted, the separation of powers is better understood as the blending of powers (“separate institutions sharing powers”).32 As I argued toward the end of Chapter 2, the Second Founders had a free hand to mix and match because the prior situation was wholly unseparated. The Articles had neither an executive nor a judiciary (with the trivial exception that Congress had the authority, by Article 9, to appoint courts “for the trial of piracies and felonies”), so the debate over the horizontal division (p.219) of powers was a relatively abstract debate with malleable sides because no one had had a prior experience of what they were proposing at the federal level. On the one side, since there was no executive (just a president of the Congress) in the Articles, any reform, as long as it included an executive, would have been an infinite (from nothing to something) improvement for the Federalists who were looking for more “energetic” government. On the other, because there was no separation of powers to begin with in the Articles—since there was only a single, unicameral legislative branch—any new system that introduced at least a modicum of separation would have been an improvement for the Anti-Federalists, who acknowledged the weaknesses of the confederation but feared legislative Leviathan. As a result, at the start of the convention, there was general agreement that an executive branch and the separation of powers were necessary, and this was a consensus registered in both the Virginia and New Jersey plans.33 There was some disagreement, but not a Lovers’ Quarrel, about the separation of powers.
Federalism, however, was an entirely more divisive matter. The Virginia Plan proposed centralized federalism and a bicameral legislature, while the New Jersey Plan proposed peripheralized federalism and a unicameral legislature with each state equally represented with a single vote, as the states had been under the Articles.34 The conventional metaphor for federalism understood as the “splitting” of the atom of sovereignty misleadingly implies that the atom was not already split in 1787, and that the Federalists were the ones who had discovered federalism in any of its variant forms.35 While powers, previously vested entirely in the legislature in the Articles of Confederation, were divided in 1787, sovereignty had already been split by 1787. The Federalists can take no credit for the latter. If anything, the Second Founders were trying to pull together what the First Founders had left apart by inventing a new federalism in contradistinction to the old confederalism. As a result, the conservative, Anti-Federalist response to this innovation set up a very different bargaining game than the one over the separation of powers. Any new constitution, as long as it created and layered a new sovereignty on the old, meant a net loss of state autonomy for the Anti-Federalists.36 It should not be surprising, then, that while the Federalists got as much if not more than they asked for in the unity and strength of the executive, they ended up with much less than they wanted in the strength of the Union. In fact, the debate over the executive and the separation of powers in 1787 and 1788 ultimately fell in the shadow of the Lovers’ Quarrel, with modulations in the former debate necessitated by the outcome of the latter (such as most clearly seen in the composition of the Electoral College).
(1.) Karen Orren and Stephen Skowronek, The Search for American Political Development (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 123.
(4.) On this point, see John Gerring, “APD from a Methodological Point of View,” Studies in American Political Development 17 (2003): 82–102, 83–84; Amy Bridges, A City in the Republic: Antebellum New York and the Origins of Machine Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984); Karen Orren, Belated Feudalism: Labor, the Law, and Liberal Development in the United States (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991); Louis Hartz, The Liberal Tradition in America (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1955); Richard Franklin Bensel, Yankee Leviathan: The Origins of Central State Authority in America, 1859–1877 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Stephen Skowronek, Building a New American State: The Expansion of National Administrative Capacities 1877–1920 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1982).
(5.) Samuel P. Huntington, “Political Modernization: America vs. Europe,” World Politics 18 (1966): 378–414; J. P. Nettl, “The State as a Conceptual Variable,” World Politics 20 (1968): 559–592; Robert C. Lieberman, “Weak State, Strong Policy: Paradoxes of Race Policy in the United States, Great Britain, and France,” Studies in American Political Development 16 (2002): 138–161.
(6.) William J. Novak, “The Myth of the ‘Weak’ American State,” American Historical Review 113 (2008): 752–772.
(8.) Elisabeth S. Clemens, The People’s Lobby: Organizational Innovation and the Rise of Interest Group Politics in the United States, 1890–1925 (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1997); Skowronek, Building a New American State; Theda Skocpol, Protecting Soldiers and Mothers: The Political Origins of Social Policy in the United States (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992); Daniel Carpenter, The Forging of Bureaucratic Autonomy: Reputations, Networks, and Policy Innovation in Executive Agencies, 1862–1928 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001).
(9.) Peter B. Evans, Dietrich Rueschemeyer, and Theda Skocpol (eds.), Bringing the State Back In (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985).
(10.) Robert Lieberman, Shifting the Color Line: Race and the American Welfare State (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998).
(11.) Paul Pierson, Politics in Time: History, Institutions, and Social Analysis (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004).
(16.) Tocqueville may have been drawing out the implications of Madison’s caveat when he observed that “the government of the Union depends almost entirely upon legal fictions.” See Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, 2 vols. (New York: Alfred Knopf, [1835–1840] 1945), 1: 166. Others who have tried to find a definitive account of what the Federalists were up to may have understated the possibility that despite their efforts, irresolution was a significant outcome in and of itself. For an example of this, consider Vincent Ostrom, “The Meaning of Federalism in ‘The Federalist’: A Critical Examination of the Diamond Theses,” Publius 15 (1985): 1–21.
(19.) On institutionalism or the institutional study of politics, see for example, Robert C. Lieberman, “Ideas, Institutions, and Political Order: Explaining Political Change,” American Political Science Review 96 (2002): 697–712 and Terry M. Moe, “Interests, Institutions, and Positive Theory: The Politics of the NLRB,” Studies in American Political Development 2 (1987): 236–299. On cultural explanations and a cultural critique, see for example, J. David Greenstone, “Political Culture and American Political Development: Liberty, Union, and the Liberal Bipolarity,” Studies in American Political Development 1 (1986): 1–49; Rogers M. Smith, “Which Comes First, the Ideas or the Institutions?” in Ian Shapiro, Stephen Skowronek, and Daniel Galvin (eds.), Rethinking Political Institutions: The Art of the State (New York: New York University Press, 2006), 91–113; Hartz, The Liberal Tradition in America. Indeed, when both approaches are concurrently adopted, such as when scholars think constitutionally—both about the formal structures created by the constitution and the legitimating ideas behind them—the synergy has often yielded the finest insights.
(21.) Max M. Edling, A Revolution in Favor of Government: Origins of the U.S. Constitution and the Making of the American State (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003); Richard R. John, Spreading the News: The American Postal System from Franklin to Morse (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995); Suzanne Mettler, “Social Citizens of Separate Sovereignties,” in Sidney M. Milkis and Jerome M. Mileur (eds.), The New Deal and the Triumph of Liberalism (Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press, 2002), 231–271, 244.
(22.) In America, as the Federalists ensured by their example, political institutionalization has tended to precede social mobilization. See Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1968).
(23.) Rogers Smith, “Beyond Tocqueville, Myrdal, and Hartz: The Multiple Traditions in America,” American Political Science Review 87 (1993): 549–566; Skocpol, Protecting Soldiers and Mothers; Suzanne Mettler, Dividing Citizens: Gender and Federalism in New Deal Policy (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998).
(25.) William G. Shade, “‘Revolutions Can Go Backwards’: The American Civil War and the Problem of Political Development,” Social Science Quarterly 55 (1974): 753–767.
(26.) J. David Greenstone, The Lincoln Persuasion: Remaking American Liberalism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993).
(27.) John R. Commons, Proportional Representation (New York: Augustus M. Kelley,  1967), 359.
(28.) E. E. Schattschneider, The Semi-Sovereign People: A Realist’s View Of Democracy In America (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1960); Richard L. McCormick, The Party Period and Public Policy: American Politics from the Age of Jackson to the Progressive (p.281) Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986); Douglas W. Jaenecke, “The Jacksonian Integration of Parties into the Constitutional System,” Political Science Quarterly 101 (1986): 85–107.
(29.) Elizabeth Sanders, Roots of Reform: Farmers, Workers, and the American State, 1877–1917 (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1999); Eldon J. Eisenach, The Lost Promise of Progressivism (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 1994); Clemens, The People’s Lobby; David B. Truman, The Governmental Process: Political Interests and Public Opinion (Berkeley, CA: Institute of Governmental Studies,  1993).
(30.) Daniel J. Tichenor and Richard A. Harris, “Organized Interests and American Political Development,” Political Science Quarterly 117 (2003): 587–612.
(31.) Samuel H. Beer, To Make a Nation: The Rediscovery of American Federalism (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1993), 20. Others, such as Paul Rahe, have even argued that the separation of powers is the “central doctrine” of American constitutionalism. See Paul Rahe, Republics Ancient and Modern: Classical Republicanism and the American Revolution (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1992), 604.
(32.) Richard E. Neustadt, Presidential Power and the Modern Presidents: The Politics of Leadership from Roosevelt to Reagan (New York: The Free Press, 1990), 29.
(33.) Forrest McDonald, Novus Ordo Seclorum: The Intellectual Origins of the Constitution (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 1985), 240.
(34.) S. Rufus Davis, The Federal Principle: A Journey Through Time in Search of a Meaning (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1977), 77.
(35.) See, for example, Cynthia L. Gates, “Splitting the Atom of Sovereignty: Term Limits, Inc.’s Conflicting Views of Popular Autonomy in a Federal Republic,” Publius 26 (1996): 127–140.
(36.) As Chief Justice John Jay wrote in Chisholm v. Georgia, 2 U.S. 419 (1793), “Every State Constitution is a compact made by and between the citizens of a State to govern themselves in a certain manner, and the Constitution of the United States is likewise a compact made by the people of the United States to govern themselves as to general objects in a certain manner. By this great compact however, many prerogatives were tr transferred to the national government, such as those of making war and peace, contracting alliances, coining money, etc. etc.” Chief Justice John Marshall would repeat this argument in McCulloch v. Maryland, 17 U.S. 316 (1819). (p.282)