Seward: three telling tales retold

Picking up where I left off last time, it must have been a terrible blow to William Seward not to win the Republican nomination for the presidency in 1860. And even more galling to see the country lawyer Lincoln go on to win the Presidency in his stead. Even so, at a time when candidates did not campaign for themselves but relied on their allies to campaign for them, Seward was by far the most active promoter of Lincoln’s cause, travelling from State to State, apparently tireless in his canvassing on behalf of his rival.

William Seward
In defeat, a loyal friend to his successful rival

It was only reasonable that his reward should be the highest non-elective office in the land, that of Secretary of State. But Seward viewed the role’s responsibilities rather differently from his boss. He must have thought that the relatively untried Lincoln would be out of his depth as President, and needed someone to guide him, or even to run the government in his name.

“Whatever policy we adopt,” Lincoln quotes him as saying in a response he drafted but never sent, “there must be an energetic prosecution of it.” And Seward apparently suggested that “either the President must do it himself… or devolve it on some member of his cabinet. Once adopted, debates on it must end, and all agree and abide.”

Seward obviously had a candidate in mind for the Cabinet member to whom such authority might devolve.

What did Lincoln feel about this? He noted: “I remark that if this must be done, I must do it.”

The man elected to the post with the power would exercise it and no one else. That, no doubt, is what Lincoln explained to Seward face-to-face, rather than in a letter. In that quiet tone, without aggression, without raising his voice.

What I like most about this story is that Seward took the point and never again tried to challenged Lincoln’s authority. Indeed, he became Lincoln’s strongest and most loyal supporter. Which didn’t mean that he never stood up to him – on the contrary, he learned to respect Lincoln, though that didn’t stop him offering advice, even if necessary in opposition to the President’s own views..

My second anecdote concerns just such a moment.

The Trent affair was one more crisis in the seemingly uninterrupted sequence of crises of a life-and-death civil war. The British mail ship RMS Trent had been stopped on the high seas by a US warship and two commissioners (diplomatic envoys) from the Confederacy – the self-proclaimed rebel government in the South – removed from it.

That profoundly displeased the British government. Which, in turn, was bad news for the US, one of whose primary war aims was to stop Britain or France intervening on the side of the South. Indeed, that was the very reason the Commissioners had been seized: to stop them appealing for support in Europe.

You can imagine, however, that there was joy in the North over the capture of these two leading rebels. And when objections were raised, a feeling that the US couldn’t possibly back down and hand them over. What a humiliation that would be.

Seward felt that was exactly what they should do, humiliating or not. As a higly effective lawyer he put together a powerful brief: the seizure, because it was carried out on the High Seas and not in US waters, was illegal; it was precisely to stop this kind of attack on neutral shipping by the British that the US had gone to war in 1812; and, in purely pragmatic, political terms, handing the commissioners back would disarm those in Britain who wanted to back the South.

Lincoln listened to the argument but wasn’t convinced. A good lawyer himself, he told Seward he would prepare a counter-argument and present it at the following day’s cabinet meeting.

In fact, at the Cabinet meeting next day, all the discussion was on how the handover of the Commissioners to the British should be undertaken, who should contact whom in the British government to make it happen, how the decision should be communicated to other politicians and the public.

As they emerged from the Cabinet room, Seward asked Lincoln what had happened to the case he had planned to present against him.

“I found,” Lincoln replied, “that I could not make an argument that would satisfy my own mind, and that proved to me that your ground was the good one.”

Is that anecdote about Seward or about Lincoln? I leave it to you to decide. Although I’m not convinced it matters.

My final anecdote comes from several days after Lincoln’s assassination.

Not everyone realises that the President was not the only planned victim of the murder plot. Assassins were due to target the Vice President Andrew Johnson and the Secretary of State William Seward, too.

Seward had suffered a serious carriage accident and was bedbound already. Fortunately, his would-be assassin was intercepted by his carers and, though Seward suffered severe additional injuries, they were not fatal.

As he began to recover, he saw through his window that the flag on the Defence Department was at half-mast.

“The President is dead,” he announced.

As he’d been instructed, his attendant attempted to contradict Seward, to spare his feelings. But Seward knew better.

“If he had been alive he would have been the first to call on me… and there’s the flag at half-mast.”

He lay back on his pillow with the tears flowing freely down his face.

Lincoln and he had been adversaries. But they had become close collaborators and finally friends. Seward mourned the death of his erstwhile rival as sincerely as anyone in the country, if not more so.

It’s not the least of Seward’s outstanding qualities that he was able to walk that road to reconciliation, respect and ultimately grief.

John McDonnell: what matters is that the decision was right, not how you got there

The commentariat has been going wild in Britain this week. It’s been fascinated by the question of whether John McDonnell, newly appointed Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer under newly elected Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn, had made a right hash of things.

The background is that the actual (as opposed to Shadow) Chancellor, George Osborne, has proposed new legislation binding future governments – including his own – to running budget surpluses in “normal times.”

At best, this is a gimmick (I’ll come on to what it is at worst in a bit). It’s ill-thought out: it doesn’t, for instance, distinguish between investment and current expenditure. Investment may well generate a big return in the future (perhaps a new railway line, or a government-financed scientific breakthrough), so it makes no sense to treat it as merely a cost today and not count any of the future benefit against it.

More crucial still, it’s a law that can’t be enforced. Parliament makes all laws, and therefore unmakes any law it wishes; it can’t bind itself by law, because all it would take if it became disenchanted with a law in the future, would be a quick act repealing it. By extension, since under what passes for a constitution in Britain, a government has to have a parliamentary majority it’s hard to see how parliament can pass a law to bind the government: it can simply use its majority to repeal anything it finds irksome.

At worst, what the proposal really intends is to justify further massive cuts in public expenditure, by passing them off as prudent financial management. Many suspect that there’s an unspoken agenda on the part of the Conservative Party to shrink the State. That’s a legitimate aim, naturally, but it ought to be expressed openly, not slipped in disguised as something else. On the other hand, one can understand why the government would want to disguise such an aim: we’ve learned just recently that the NHS, for instance, is on the brink of bankruptcy, with a deficit approaching a billion pounds in a single quarter, making it a little difficult to argue for further cuts.

Finally, it may be just a trick to try to embarrass Labour, by challenging them either to support the government or to paint themselves as opposed to financial prudence.

Which takes us neatly to John McDonnell.

Just a couple of weeks ago, at the Labour Party Conference, he announced that he would be supporting the government initiative.

Now, however, he’s switched round 180 degrees and decided to oppose it.

Imagine the uproar! “U-turn!” cry opponents or the media. “A mess and a muddle!” “Labour in chaos!” At their least ungenerous, hostile commentators point out that McDonnell’s new in post and his wobbles and inconsistencies are all part of the learning pains anyone might expect to go through.

In any case, they make it clear that the whole episode reflects badly on Labour. But then, they would, wouldn’t they?

To me, the whole thing’s another gimmick, just like the government proposal itself. It’s an attempt to paint Labour as incompetent – whereas, to me and a great many others, what matters isn’t that McDonnell changed his mind, but that he ended up taking the right decision.

John McDonnell
Why care that he changed his mind, if he got it right in the end?

This puts me mind of a story about Abraham Lincoln, the man I regard as the best politician in history, bar none.

In 1861, during the American Civil War, a US Navy ship intercepted a British mail vessel, RMS Trent, put men on board and seized two Confederate envoys who were heading for Europe to stoke up support for the rebellious States. Britain was furious, the United States delighted; Britain threatened war, and the US responded with the diplomatic equivalent of “bring it on.” Britain at that time had the world’s most powerful navy; Lincoln knew that he was in no position to fight a second war alongside the great struggle in which he was already engaged. But he didn’t want to back down to Britain, with all the loss of pride that would entail, to say nothing of the opprobrium it would excite around the country.

His Secretary of State, William Seward, on the other hand pointed out that such a sacrifice would be a lot smaller than the cost of a war. He recommended handing over the envoys to Britain.

Lincoln told him he couldn’t do that, and would prepare a paper arguing against Seward’s position that very evening. However, the next morning he turned up at the Cabinet meeting without a paper, and agreed with Seward’s proposal. Surprised by his agreement, the latter caught up with Lincoln after the meeting, and asked why he hadn’t submitted the promised paper.

“I found,” Lincoln replied, “I could not make an argument that would satisfy my own mind, and that proved to me your ground was the right one.”

Yes. If your second thoughts are better than your first, go with them.

Getting it right first time is great, and it’s a pity McDonnell didn’t. But getting it right at all is what matters. Nothing’s worse than sticking to a bad position come what may. That’s what Maggie Thatcher used to do, refusing to back down from any of her ideas, however misguided; that gave us the poll tax and the Section 28 homophobic legislation, and ultimately led to her downfall.

So well done, John McDonnell, for recognising that you had it wrong. And for having the courage to admit it and change your view. 

Because what matters is the quality of your final decision, not the route by which you got there – even if it was a little convoluted.