We have... mixed feelings about Alexander Hamilton
First, I’m a big fan of the “put a woman on our money” thing. Frankly, I’d also be a big fan of the whole “put a not-white person on our money” thing, should anyone ever suggest anything so bold. Given how the whole Women on 20s project came out, we might get both, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
I thought ditching racist, Indian-killing, seems-like-he-was-probably-kind-of-an-a-hole Andrew Jackson from the 20 was the way to go. But people actually use 20s a fair amount, so evidently that would have just been too great a shock for the country to handle. Or something--I don't really get it. Something about the 10 being up for redesign anyway, which seems like a silly thing on which to hang such a permanent change.
But the 10-spot still seems like a decent option; at least it’s not the 50 or the 2 (which would have made some sense since Jefferson already has a coin, but would have seemed patronizing in the extreme). Of course, the announcement has caused a national discussion about Alexander Hamilton—which is not a discussion most of us have ever probably had with anyone. I’m admittedly no PBS Newshour-level presidential historian; but based on what I know, I’ve been thinking about it.
Hamilton belongs undeniably among the Founding Fathers. He fought in the war for independence. He was a self-made man, and undoubtedly a genius; although great with words, he was also a numbers guy when the country deep in debt badly needed one. There’s a strong argument that he saved our nation in the early days, when our debts to Europe and our monetary chaos threatened to undermine all the best ideals of the framers. He was materialistically selfless; by most accounts, he did what he thought was best for the country. For as much as conservatives like to lionize and invoke the founders, Hamilton is perhaps the Patron Saint of American liberals, with his belief that we could turn debt into strength and that a strong national government was our future. At the same time, he was a believer in the power to raise up the country through trade (something from which modern liberals might take a lesson).
He is also, in some important ways, a national shame.
And I find this angle fascinating as I think about his face on our money and his statue in front of the Treasury building, next to the White House. Hamilton was a schemer, a liar, and stands apart from his fellow Fathers in that he freely violated the fragile Constitution if it meant pursuing what he thought was right. As a Cabinet member, he behaved in ways that are almost unimaginable in any administration—much less under the nose of our most deified president. He submitted legislation to Congress without the president’s consent; he actively undermined the work and influence of his fellow Cabinet members—especially his ideological enemy Jefferson, who had plenty of dirty tricks of his own but who retained enough ethical scruples to prevent him from truly competing on Hamilton’s level. Even after leaving office, he maintained a level influence with Washington that has a certain Rasputin-like quality if you look at it right. His continued machinations, via his disciples, arguably poisoned the presidency of John Adams, leaving a legacy of bitter partisanship from which we arguably still suffer (Jefferson shares some blame here, of course).
I found one aspect of Hamilton’s doings perhaps most disturbing—and a good enough reason on its own to move him aside on our money. Throughout the early days of the republic, Hamilton—Secretary of the Treasury, mind you—conducted secret and unauthorized diplomacy with the British. He frequently and to great effect undermined the Secretary of State (Jefferson), our attempts to establish a credible diplomacy abroad, and the official diplomatic policy of the United States. He passed state secrets and tipped off the British on many critical occasions, violating the trust of a president who reserved a special place of trust for Hamilton. Later, he used his influence to push the country toward war with France, and appears to have abused his continued sway over an aged George Washington to make himself defacto head of a new American army—without the blessing of the actual President, Adams.
Only a brilliant political operator could have pulled all this off. But all of these actions risked the loss of public faith had they become known, and might well have smothered the country in needless conflict.
Hamilton is a fascinating contradiction. How could the author of the Federalist Papers and a strong supporter of the Constitution have so freely undermined the trust and institutions he helped create? It’s a great question—likely he wouldn’t see it that way. But we do know enough about the guy to feel comfortable that perhaps there are better faces for the 10 dollar bill.
