Matthew Stewart argues that the intellectual origins of deism and the American Revolution are to be found in the revival of Epicureanism as reinterpreted through the philosophy of Hobbes, Spinoza, and Locke. This radical philosophy became the fundamental ideas about the nature of the world and the political order that the Founding Fathers used as the basis to create the United States. This radical philosophy of Epicureanism, the Enlightenment, Deism, and the Founding Fathers insisted that everything in the universe is explainable without reference to an outside force. It viewed humans as part of nature, subject to the laws of nature like everything else, replacing the soul with the idea of the self. It developed new concepts of ethics not based on judgement in the afterlife, but only on an immutable abstract principle of right and wrong built around the idea that pleasure is good and pain bad, and we seek after things based on our own own self-interest. Happiness is not to be found in the afterlife but in this life. It advocated an equality based on recognition that within nature all human beings are in theory equal since no principle in nature makes us subordinate to each other. They adopted anti-clerical positions, saw Jesus as a wise man rather than a savior and Messiah, and considered the proper role of religion as inculcating civic virtue rather than imposing artificial beliefs. The radical philosophy led to a political system in which all things had to be justified on understanding, not to appeal to some external transcendental being or force.
Stewart further suggests there are three key features of American deism.
1. a correlation between heterodoxy and revolutionary politics, although he recognizes it wasn’t a perfect relationship.
2. It was part of an international literary movement of subversive literature.
3. A variety of people from different background were deists, not just elites.
All writers and scholars have to challenge the views of others scholars in order to write something new, but it should be tempered by the perspective of other scholars and the consensus. Stewart spends an exorbitant amount of time trying to show Locke is really advocating the same radical philosophy as Spinoza, while also occasionally making flippant remarks about Locke hiding his ideas behind pious platitudes, despite the many scholars with peer-reviewed works who do view Locke as Christian. He needs to place Locke in his camp due to his extremely important influence on the Founding Fathers, despite alternative interpretations. In his desire to explain what he sees as the radical basis of liberalism and the American Revolution, Stewart seems too comfortable ignoring the scholarly consensus on quite a few issues and comes off as overly dismissive of other scholars (historians, political theorists, and fellow philosophers) who disagree with him or arrive at different conclusions of the evidence.
“Indeed, probably the most popular narrative concerning the very idea of America—one that unites Christian nationalists with a large number of sober historians—has it that the American Republic owes its independence and its individual freedoms to its Protestant Christian legacy. This narrative often comes with a distinguished lineage that traces the ideas of individual rights and freedom of conscience to seminal Protestant thinkers such as John Milton (1608-1674), and it characteristically represents Jefferson, Madison, and precursors like Locke as latitudinarian Protestants or . . . “Christian deists (72-73).”
He snidely equates the bad scholarship of Christian Nationalists with legitimate historians who have come to different conclusions than him. This attack on his fellow scholars happens repeatedly usually followed by self-assured declarations that they have it all wrong without any real discussion of the specifics of their arguments and why they are drawing the conclusion that they do.
Although he quotes copiously from the Founding Fathers when they agree with whatever point he is trying to prove and his general thesis, he also dismisses or ignores statements they make that don’t fit his arguments, which he readily admits.
“America’s revolutionary leaders naturally drew on a wide range of sources and experiences, and many of those leaders may be presumed to have been sincere in thinking that their assertions about natural right derived from God above were in conformity with the religion of their forefathers. But the success of the American Revolution turned largely on the fact that their intentions and beliefs on this point were irrelevant to the reality (353).”
In other words, Stewart doesn’t care what America’s revolutionary leaders said about the origin of their own views if it doesn’t fit his narrative, but this also hints why other historians might be drawing different conclusions than him.
“More often the revolutionaries made loud efforts to derive their rights from God—from which fact some historians infer that the Revolution was a theological project designed to fulfill a mission ordained from in high. But this, too, is pretty much the opposite of the truth. Almost everybody on the revolutionary side of the struggle claimed that their rights were founded in nature—and on this point they were correct, though not always in the sense that they imagined, for the political theory from which America drew its rights was deeply at odds with the common conception of things (338).”
This paragraph is emblematic of the book’s problems. Once again the revolutionaries who argue this are being dismissed as being wrong about their own ideas. We are told in the same paragraph that the revolutionaries both “made loud efforts to derive their right from God” and “claimed their rights were founded in nature.” It is possible as Stewart suggests that many of these radicals conflated nature and God, but another possibility is that many of them saw God as creating nature and the natural order, which could easily be adapted to more traditional ideas about religion. We also have another dismissal of historians who see in these statements a “theological project” with no citations this time to the work of these historians so we can read them and decide for ourselves who makes the better case. Although Stewart acknowledges the existence of more traditionally religious founding fathers such as Samuel Adams, Roger Sherman, Elias Boudinot, and John Jay he mostly ignores their existence as inconvenient for his thesis; they occupy no more than a few sentences of the entire work.
Although the major founding fathers like Jefferson, Franklin, Adams, and Washington are featured, the narrative focuses heavily on Dr. Thomas Young and Ethan Allen when it’s not getting lost in long-winded abstract philosophical analysis of the supposed similarities between Spinoza and Locke. While a case can be made for the overlooked importance of Thomas Young who was one of the leaders of the Boston Tea Party and a prominent member of the Sons of Liberty, Stewart at one point suggests the doctor and Ethan Allen have been deliberately written out of the history books because of their heretical deism instead of the more common sense notion that Ethan just wasn’t particularly important compared to other members of the founding generation (many of whom were also deists or heterodox, but who strangely enough are still included in the history books).
Another problem is the endless appeals to the so-called common view throughout the book. It’s repeated like a broken record. Who is this common view supposed to represent?Sometimes it seems to be the perspective of the majority of people of the 18th century. Sometimes it seems like it is supposed to be the perspective of people living today in the 21st century. Sometimes it seems like it is supposed to represent the common view of scholars. Sometimes it is supposed to represent the perspective of religious people in general. It is difficult to tell who exactly he means at times because Stewart very rarely offers citations to support the existence of this common view and not some straw man of his own devising.
“Paradoxical as it may sound to modern ears, many of the ideas in the books on Jefferson’s shelf also passed through doors of America’s churches. . . . Indeed, deists like Franklin and Washington thought that serving local churches could be a useful way to contribute to the community. The more important fact is that much of the preaching they heard in church was philosophically very close to deism (29).”
He claims churches preached deistic beliefs without any specific example provided, but assuming this is correct why not allow the churches were preaching enlightenment ideas or deist ideas that overlapped with Christian conceptions. As David Sorkin points out in his book The Religious Enlightenment, many members of traditional religions endorsed ideas of the Enlightenment, especially some of the religious ideas that supposedly only belonged to deists, and used these ideas to reform their religions. So it’s not shocking that we find certain ideas shared by both deists and traditional churches found in churches.
The book attempts to cover too much. The content is all over the place and sometimes feels like different books tied loosely together. Is this a genealogy of deism from Hobbes, Spinoza, and Locke to the British deists to the Founding Fathers? Is it a defense of the origins of liberalism? Is it an argument for Epicureanism as the ancient roots of Enlightenment thought? Is it a reconsideration of the philosophical relationship between Locke and Spinoza? Is it a polemic against the outdated ideas of religion in a modern world? Yes, the book covers all these things, but each of these could easily be the topics of books in their own right, and often the book feels more like a pure philosophy book than a history book, while other times it takes on the role of political pamphlet for Stewart to pummel us with his own ideas about which philosophical views are the correct ones and which ones are flawed.
The biggest issue with the book is the polemical tone it sometimes adopts that invalidates it as a useful history. Stewart not only ignores the founders and their statements that don’t fit his thesis—or facts like Jonathan Edwards died by inoculation in a chapter ironically dedicated to Ethan Allen being a brave heretic for being inoculated against the opposition of those mean science-hating religious fanatics like Edwards—but throughout the narrative Stewart goes far beyond reporting the philosophical ideas of the time and outright starts making judgmental statements about religion or the shortcomings of trascendental-based philosophies. This might be philosophy, it might be political polemic, but it’s not history. Historians are supposed to reproduce as neutrally as possible an accurate representation of the people and their ideas of the past, not criticize or judge them, leaving the work with a strong whiff of moralistic “Whiggish” history. This attempt to identify the good ideas of the past with one’s own philosophy or to read one’s own philosophical predilections back into the past, offering moral judgments about the ideas of the past based on our own modern perspective, is generally considered a big no no in history and something real historians try to avoid. While I am sympathetic to wanting to counter Christian Nationalists and found some of the ideas of the Enlightenment having its origins in Epicureanism interesting, this isn’t really a history, but a polemic.