Factions, War, and Debt: A Ghostly Caution for America

A ghost haunts the corridors of American power.

It lingers in the whispered deals on Capitol Hill, the shouting matches on cable news, and the vicious memes that flood our social media feeds. Both revered and neglected, this spirit silently adjudicates our political theater from its perch — a monolithic obelisk of granite and marble.

Its face scrutinizes you from the creased banknotes in your wallet. Those eyes have witnessed thousands of your transactions, but you've never met their gaze. This is no ordinary ghost. It's the spirit of a revolution unfinished, a dream unfulfilled, a warning unheeded. 

Our haunting hero? George Washington — and we've betrayed him.

We chisel his face into mountains and emblazon it on our currency, yet ignore his most important messages. Washington's Farewell Address of 1796 stands as the pinnacle of American political philosophy—a document so fundamental that, for decades, it was distributed more widely than even the Declaration of Independence. Far from a simple goodbye, this address was Washington's final gift to the nation he helped forge, a warning against the dangers that could unravel the great American experiment.

How did we stray so far from his vision? Can his centuries-old wisdom still guide us in a world he never could have imagined?

The Perils of Partisanship

The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism.

Washington saw political parties as wolves in sheep's clothing. His concerns have proven valid; today, rabid packs of partisans are devouring American unity, leaving the bones of democracy in their wake.

American politics is no longer a chess match but a bloodsport. What used to be a mechanism for balanced governance, the two-party system has become a Manichaean battleground where compromise is treason. In the 1970s, around 30% of congressional votes crossed party lines, but by the 2010s, that figure had plummeted to 10% (Iyengar, S., Sood, G., & Lelkes, Y. "Affect, Not Ideology: A Social Identity Perspective on Polarization," 2012). Today, it's likely in the low single digits, trending toward zero. In this world of black and white, nuance is cast aside, and the act of compromise — once hailed as the art of politics — is now deemed surrender.

In this environment, the legislative process has descended into a theater of the absurd. Gridlock is lauded as a mark of ideological purity, while real threats fester, ignored in the name of partisan obedience. Democracy withers on the vine as partisan warriors entrench themselves further, viewing even the slightest concession as an existential threat.

Washington also recognized the destructive potential of political revenge. What starts as disagreement inevitably spirals into a cycle of retribution, where each political defeat is not seen as part of the democratic process but as fuel for increasingly extreme counterattacks. In this toxic atmosphere, today's political losers don't concede and regroup; they scheme for tomorrow's scorched-earth campaign.

The decline of the Roman Republic, especially during the Sulla-Marius conflict, exemplifies this cycle. When Gaius Marius politically outmaneuvered his rival, Lucius Cornelius Sulla, stripping him of a prestigious military command, Sulla's response shattered centuries of tradition. In 88 BCE, Sulla marched his legions on Rome, marking the first time in Roman history that the military was weaponized internally.

This act triggered a chain reaction of escalating reprisals. In Sulla's absence, Marius seized power, ruthlessly purging his perceived enemies. When Sulla returned, he responded with even greater brutality, introducing the infamous proscriptions — death lists that condemned thousands to execution without trial and stripped their families of all rights. This was not governance but warfare, with politics as a thin veneer for barbarity.

As this cycle intensifies, opponents are no longer viewed as fellow citizens but enemies. To Sulla, his adversaries became traitors, justifying any action against them. This erosion of boundaries follows a chilling logic: if the other side is seen as evil incarnate, then even the most ruthless acts become not only permissible but necessary.

Today, we’re witnessing the alarming normalization of tactics that would have been unthinkable not long ago. The weaponization of democratic institutions — from the courts to regulatory bodies — has become a staple in the playbook. Disinformation campaigns, once reserved for fringe groups, now originate from the highest levels of government. Constitutional rights are casually discarded when they become inconvenient. Actions once universally condemned as beyond the pale are now routinely employed.

With his keen understanding of human nature, Washington recognized that this cycle of vengeance poses an existential threat to democracy. He saw in the American experiment the potential for greatness but also the seeds of its undoing.

This cycle of decay is far from new. Centuries earlier, thinkers like Polybius and later Machiavelli had already articulated this danger. These philosophers warned that all forms of government, no matter how noble their origins, are vulnerable to corruption. Democracies, in particular, face a unique threat: the risk of devolving into ochlocracies — mob rule driven by passion rather than reason. In such a state, demagogues manipulate the masses, and emotional appeals and scapegoating replace rational discourse. Sound familiar? 

The challenge before us is not merely to bridge divides or nostalgically yearn for a bygone era of bipartisanship. Instead, we face a more pressing task: to reject the factions that exploit our fears and greed and fundamentally rethink the criteria by which we choose our leaders.

Foreign Entanglements

The great rule of conduct for us in regard to foreign nations is in extending our commercial relations, to have with them as little political connection as possible.

Perhaps no aspect of Washington's wisdom has been more thoroughly ignored than his advice on foreign policy. His counsel was clear: pursue a course of neutrality, prioritizing the nation's sovereignty over the temptation of international power. Yet, in the centuries since, this advice has been cast aside in favor of a new world order that embraces entanglement and global influence.

Washington warned against "permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign world," understanding that such commitments could drag the nation into conflicts far removed from its own interests. He recognized that while alliances might offer short-term security, they could also become chains, binding the country to the ambitions and mistakes of others. Washington feared that a fragile America, still developing its identity, could be pulled into the endless whirlpools of European power struggles.

Today, the United States finds itself at the epicenter of a complex, global network of alliances, trade agreements, and military commitments —  an arrangement far removed from Washington's vision of a nation "detached and distant" from the intrigues of the Old World. While these international obligations offer some advantages, they tether America to global conflicts and economic interdependencies.

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), the most significant and enduring of these "entangling alliances," has been a cornerstone of American foreign policy for over 70 years. Originally conceived as a deterrent to Soviet expansion, NATO has grown its mission and membership. This transformation has turned NATO into a vast apparatus of collective defense that spans continents, conducting over 30 major operations since its inception. 

However, this expanded role comes at a cost — both literal and figurative. The United States, the de facto leader, bears a disproportionate burden, as American taxpayers fund approximately 70% of NATO's expenses. While bolstering U.S. influence, this commitment also ties American interests to conflicts and tensions far from its shores, creating precisely the type of foreign entanglements Washington cautioned against.

America's military interventions abroad most starkly illustrate the perils of foreign entanglement that Washington foresaw. From the jungles of Vietnam to the deserts of Iraq and the rugged mountains of Afghanistan, these conflicts have drawn the United States into the prolonged, costly, and often intractable engagements that our first president cautioned against.

The post-9/11 era has elevated this interventionist tendency to new heights. In the two decades following the attacks, the human cost has been staggering: over 7,000 U.S. service members and another 8,000 contractors have lost their lives — not to mention millions of non-Americans who have perished and been displaced and left in grotesque conditions. The financial burden has been equally immense, with expenditures exceeding $6 trillion, surpassing even the considerable costs of NATO participation.

These interventions, often launched with lofty goals of spreading democracy or combating terrorism, have frequently devolved into protracted conflicts with unclear outcomes. The repercussions have been far-reaching, creating humanitarian and immigration crises, destabilizing governments, making new enemies, and damaging the environment. They have strained not only America's military and economic resources but also its diplomatic relationships and moral standing.

Even in the absence of combat, the United States maintains a posture of readiness that teeters on the edge of conflict. This constant vigilance is reflected in America's global military footprint. According to Department of Defense reports, the U.S. operates approximately 750 military bases across 80 countries — a presence unmatched by any other nation in history.

This expansive infrastructure is a de facto intervention, subtly and profoundly influencing local politics and regional dynamics. The annual cost of maintaining this global presence is estimated at $85–100 billion, a figure larger than the entire defense budget of most nations. Driven by ideological imperatives, economic interests, and geopolitical calculations, this strategy strains diplomatic relationships, fuels local resentments, and perpetuates a cycle of militarization that can inadvertently escalate global tensions rather than ease them.

Moreover, this posture imposes significant burdens on military personnel and their families, leading to prolonged deployments and ongoing challenges in veteran care. In essence, this global military presence represents a continuous, low-grade form of intervention that Washington, with his vision of a republic focused primarily on its own development and security, would likely view with deep concern.

Fiscal Responsibility

As a very important source of strength and security, cherish public credit. One method of preserving it is to use it as sparingly as possible, avoiding occasions of expense by cultivating peace, but remembering also that timely disbursements to prepare for danger frequently prevent much greater disbursements to repel it.

Washington regarded public credit as a fragile treasure. He understood that unchecked debt threatened not only the American economy but the very character of the republic. In excessive debt, he saw the seeds of corruption, the lure of tyranny, and the erosion of national independence. For Washington, prudent management of public finances was essential to safeguarding liberty.

Washington's understanding of debt was shaped by his firsthand experience with the tumultuous financial state of the early republic. The fledgling nation had emerged from the Revolutionary War victorious but financially devastated. Its currency was debased, its credit depleted, and its economic system a patchwork of competing state interests and obligations.

As president, Washington endorsed Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton's ambitious plan, which included the federal assumption of state debts and the establishment of a national bank. Though controversial, these measures laid the foundation for a federal financial system.

Washington's advice on public credit reflected a balance between pragmatism and principle. In Washington's view, establishing creditworthiness was essential for attracting investment, facilitating trade, and providing the flexibility needed to respond to crises. Yet, he was mindful of the dangers posed by excessive debt. This approach stood in contrast to the practices of many European powers. The Old World's financial entanglements served as a cautionary tale for Washington; he observed how nations could be drawn into conflicts by the pressures of servicing massive debts or appeasing creditors. By advocating for the judicious use of public credit, Washington sought to chart a course of fiscal independence to preserve the young nation's hard-won political autonomy.

In 1790, the U.S. debt stood at $75 million, much of it incurred to fund the Revolutionary War — a figure that, while modest by today's standards, represented about 30% of the nation's GDP. Fast-forward and Washington's fears have become more pressing than ever. U.S. debt has skyrocketed to over $35 trillion, now exceeding 120% of GDP — a staggering sum that underscores the peril of disregarding the counsel of the nation's first president.

An often overlooked reality in public discourse is the transformation of national debt and monetary policy into powerful yet opaque instruments of governance. These tools have become the preferred mechanisms for funding not only emergencies but also perpetual wars and expansive welfare programs — initiatives that might otherwise face significant public scrutiny if financed through direct taxation. This fiscal sleight of hand marks a fundamental shift in the relationship between the government and its citizens.

By leveraging the government's borrowing capacity and the Federal Reserve's ability to expand the money supply, policymakers can fund costly programs without the political backlash of raising taxes. The resulting inflation — a subtle, pervasive devaluation of currency — acts as a hidden tax, quietly eroding citizens' purchasing power.

While politically expedient, this approach obscures the true costs of public policies, limiting citizens' ability to make informed decisions about the merits of government programs. It also creates a dangerous disconnect between public spending and public will, allowing the pursuit of policies that lack genuine public support.

As the nation grapples with monumental challenges—rebuilding infrastructure, reforming healthcare, improving education—the question of fiscal responsibility looms. Washington's advice resonates: How do we invest in our future without mortgaging it? Can we return to a sound money policy and fiscal prudence that respects the limits of what government can and should do? Or will we continue down a path of endless debt and inflation, risking the freedom and stability that Washington sought to protect?

Conclusion

Ultimately, Washington's greatest gift to us was not a set of policy prescriptions but a call to responsible citizenship. His words transcend the partisan squabbles of his day — and ours — to remind us of the higher purpose of our republic. We would do well to heed his parting wisdom: to place the nation's interests above party loyalties, to exercise prudence in our global engagements, and to safeguard our future against the temptations of short-term thinking.

The spirit of George Washington still lingers, not as a haunt but as a reminder of our highest ideals. It whispers in the ears of legislators locked in partisan gridlock, torments the conscience of leaders contemplating foreign interventions, and casts a shadow over the ledgers of our national debt.

The American experiment, with all its triumphs and tribulations, remains unfinished. As inheritors, we bear a weighty responsibility. It falls to us to breathe new life into Washington’s vision, to reinterpret his wisdom for our complex modern world. This task requires more than reverence for historical figures; it demands engagement with the challenges of our time. 

In rising to this challenge, we do more than pay homage to a founding father—we recommit ourselves to the grand experiment in self-governance that Washington set in motion. By embracing his call for unity over division, restraint over overreach, and fiscal responsibility over recklessness, we can begin to heal the rifts that threaten to tear our nation apart.