About Publius Fred And The Frederalist Papers
The Frederalist Papers is the creation of Publius Fred (a pseudonym, obviously). The idea for the name, if not the actual motivation for creating the website, was the discovery of an advertisement for a set of flash cards intended to be used by secondary school students studying for Civics, American History and Government classes. The advertisement featured a front and back representation of one such card with the question and answer pair, “The penname ‘Publius’ was used by the Founding Fathers to author what document arguing is support of adopting the Constitution?” “The Frederalist Papers.”
Now this is disturbing on a number of levels. First, and foremost, I suppose is the typographical error that spawned the notion of the title of this website. This was, after all, an advertisement for an educational product, yet its marketers were so inept as to not notice and correct a flagrant, if amusing, typographical error. I do not know if the flash card portrayed in the advertisement was actually in the flash card set – most likely it was, and the ad merely reflected the failed proofreading of some typesetter (an anachronistic term, I know, but perhaps that should give you, Dear Reader, a hint as to the vintage of Publius Fred).
On a deeper level, however, the question/answer pair is disturbing for its obvious simplification of the history it purports to teach. Let’s begin with the obvious lack of the critical distinction between “the Founding Fathers” and the authors of The Federalist (we’ll get to the question of the title in a moment). Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay, are undoubtedly to be counted among the Founding Fathers of the United States, or perhaps more accurately of the American Republic. Historian Richard B. Morris in 1973 identified the seven figures as the key Founding Fathers, including along with Hamilton, Madison and Jay, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington. Richard B. Morris, Seven Who Shaped Our Destiny: The Founding Fathers as Revolutionaries (New York: Harper & Row, 1973). More broadly, the term can be applied to those who either signed the Declaration of Independence or who were delegates to the 1787 Constitutional Convention and took part in drafting the proposed Constitution of the United States. A further subset includes those who signed the Continental Association or the Articles of Confederation. Most decidedly, however, the views expressed in The Federalist were not those of any of these groups in unanimity.
It could be argued that the question, though poorly worded, was intended to convey that it was the view only of those Founding Fathers who were the authors of The Federalist, but even if that were the intent (which I doubt), it points to still a greater concern of Publius Fred’s, namely the precipitous decline in the quality of the written word.
I pause, now, to state what should be obvious. The views expressed by Publius Fred in The Frederalist Papers are his and his alone (unless, as was done in the preceding paragraph, a statement is drawn from another source, in which case I shall endeavor to provide appropriate citation). If you, Dear Reader, choose to disagree, I am proud of you. Moreover, it is my fervent desire that you will feel free to let me know of your disagreement – and to that end I will provide a forum (perhaps eventually fora) for doing so. And, yes, Publius Fred is well aware that using “fora,” rather than the modern “forums” is pretentious.
Turning now to the question of The Federalist being labeled The Federalist Papers, Publius Fred has no quarrel with the latter being used to identify The Federalist: A Collection of Essays, Written in Favour of the New Constitution, as Agreed upon by the Federal Convention, September 17, 1787. Indeed, by his adopting of the mangled rendering of that term as the masthead for his online presence, it would be hypocritical of him not to do so.
You will have noted, by now Dear Reader, that despite his lament on the decline in the quality of English as she is writ, Publius Fred is lacking in one essential element for quality prose – brevity. This I happily confess, for while I am in life rarely gregarious, in the privacy of my study I never tire of reading my own words. It is thus that in the first seven hundred words of this introductory essay I have failed utterly in its purpose of introducing both the author and the ostensible purpose of this endeavor. Faults that I shall attempt to rectify for those few of have bothered to read this far.
Who is Publius Fred? If you, Dear Reader, are expecting a big reveal, get used to disappointment. Publius Fred has no intention of outing himself, as that would defeat the point of creating the persona in the first place. I will reveal only those details that are, perhaps, relevant to understanding how the views expressed later were developed. Publius Fred was born and reared in what was once viewed as “the South,” a designation that has since lost much meaning as regional distinctions within the old Confederacy have proliferated. His upbringing was typical of the era and region – post-WWII middle class prosperity, Protestant (but not Evangelical – Billy Graham was as Evangelical as it got, with the exception of the Holy Rollers whose megachurches were made of canvas and moved from town to town), and public school educated in schools that became increasingly integrated with each passing year.
Publius Fred attended a private college in what was then (and perhaps now, “Mid-Atlantic” being a geographically correct term, but a sociologically empty one) the undefined territory between New England and the South, attaining a facially useless liberal arts degree in the usual four years. I say “facially useless” because while I have only briefly held employment that was remotely related to my field of study, it is undoubtedly true that the broad exposure to literature, languages, and philosophy that I received during those four years has done me a world of good.
Two advanced degrees followed, during which Publius Fred held a smattering of jobs, acquired and managed to keep a spouse, and reared with said spouse two male children (and, having observed the travails of friends whose brood included daughters, no longer regrets the lack thereof in his household). He also settled into a position commensurate with his ability and personality – that is to say one that required a well-rounded intellect and required little intrapersonal contact.
Publius Fred denies that he is a misanthrope, preferring curmudgeon. It is not so much that he dislikes others, as he is lacking in the ability to suffer fools lightly – and finds most others to be fools. No, no. That is too harsh. Publius Fred is, if not his own worst critic, most certainly in the running – you, Dear Reader, are welcome to apply for the position. Let us say he prefers to take his interaction with the rest of humanity in limited doses, and usually on terms where he is both in control of the situation and able to extricate himself therefrom with little difficulty.
But enough about me. Let's talk about you. How do you like me so far?
What, then, is the motivation for an aging, if not yet aged, curmudgeon to suddenly venture into the blogosphere and openly invite not just human contact (albeit disembodied), but derision? The truth is that Publius Fred has long felt the need to express his pent-up frustration with the decline of civilization and of the American brand thereof particularly. But the quickening of this need into a living thing was the 2016 Presidential Election. Though always a political devotee, with each quadrennial cycle Publius Fred has become more and more convinced that there is something deeply, intrinsically wrong with the beast that is American Democracy. The Frederalist Papers is his effort to distill this feeling into a coherent understanding of what is wrong, and whether it can be put right. In truth, Dear Reader, it is neither for you nor for posterity that Publius Fred has conceived of this trial, but for himself. If, however, you find it useful, or amusing, to join him of this journey, you are most welcome. “Fasten your seatbelts; it’s going to be a bumpy night.”
Now this is disturbing on a number of levels. First, and foremost, I suppose is the typographical error that spawned the notion of the title of this website. This was, after all, an advertisement for an educational product, yet its marketers were so inept as to not notice and correct a flagrant, if amusing, typographical error. I do not know if the flash card portrayed in the advertisement was actually in the flash card set – most likely it was, and the ad merely reflected the failed proofreading of some typesetter (an anachronistic term, I know, but perhaps that should give you, Dear Reader, a hint as to the vintage of Publius Fred).
On a deeper level, however, the question/answer pair is disturbing for its obvious simplification of the history it purports to teach. Let’s begin with the obvious lack of the critical distinction between “the Founding Fathers” and the authors of The Federalist (we’ll get to the question of the title in a moment). Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay, are undoubtedly to be counted among the Founding Fathers of the United States, or perhaps more accurately of the American Republic. Historian Richard B. Morris in 1973 identified the seven figures as the key Founding Fathers, including along with Hamilton, Madison and Jay, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington. Richard B. Morris, Seven Who Shaped Our Destiny: The Founding Fathers as Revolutionaries (New York: Harper & Row, 1973). More broadly, the term can be applied to those who either signed the Declaration of Independence or who were delegates to the 1787 Constitutional Convention and took part in drafting the proposed Constitution of the United States. A further subset includes those who signed the Continental Association or the Articles of Confederation. Most decidedly, however, the views expressed in The Federalist were not those of any of these groups in unanimity.
It could be argued that the question, though poorly worded, was intended to convey that it was the view only of those Founding Fathers who were the authors of The Federalist, but even if that were the intent (which I doubt), it points to still a greater concern of Publius Fred’s, namely the precipitous decline in the quality of the written word.
I pause, now, to state what should be obvious. The views expressed by Publius Fred in The Frederalist Papers are his and his alone (unless, as was done in the preceding paragraph, a statement is drawn from another source, in which case I shall endeavor to provide appropriate citation). If you, Dear Reader, choose to disagree, I am proud of you. Moreover, it is my fervent desire that you will feel free to let me know of your disagreement – and to that end I will provide a forum (perhaps eventually fora) for doing so. And, yes, Publius Fred is well aware that using “fora,” rather than the modern “forums” is pretentious.
Turning now to the question of The Federalist being labeled The Federalist Papers, Publius Fred has no quarrel with the latter being used to identify The Federalist: A Collection of Essays, Written in Favour of the New Constitution, as Agreed upon by the Federal Convention, September 17, 1787. Indeed, by his adopting of the mangled rendering of that term as the masthead for his online presence, it would be hypocritical of him not to do so.
You will have noted, by now Dear Reader, that despite his lament on the decline in the quality of English as she is writ, Publius Fred is lacking in one essential element for quality prose – brevity. This I happily confess, for while I am in life rarely gregarious, in the privacy of my study I never tire of reading my own words. It is thus that in the first seven hundred words of this introductory essay I have failed utterly in its purpose of introducing both the author and the ostensible purpose of this endeavor. Faults that I shall attempt to rectify for those few of have bothered to read this far.
Who is Publius Fred? If you, Dear Reader, are expecting a big reveal, get used to disappointment. Publius Fred has no intention of outing himself, as that would defeat the point of creating the persona in the first place. I will reveal only those details that are, perhaps, relevant to understanding how the views expressed later were developed. Publius Fred was born and reared in what was once viewed as “the South,” a designation that has since lost much meaning as regional distinctions within the old Confederacy have proliferated. His upbringing was typical of the era and region – post-WWII middle class prosperity, Protestant (but not Evangelical – Billy Graham was as Evangelical as it got, with the exception of the Holy Rollers whose megachurches were made of canvas and moved from town to town), and public school educated in schools that became increasingly integrated with each passing year.
Publius Fred attended a private college in what was then (and perhaps now, “Mid-Atlantic” being a geographically correct term, but a sociologically empty one) the undefined territory between New England and the South, attaining a facially useless liberal arts degree in the usual four years. I say “facially useless” because while I have only briefly held employment that was remotely related to my field of study, it is undoubtedly true that the broad exposure to literature, languages, and philosophy that I received during those four years has done me a world of good.
Two advanced degrees followed, during which Publius Fred held a smattering of jobs, acquired and managed to keep a spouse, and reared with said spouse two male children (and, having observed the travails of friends whose brood included daughters, no longer regrets the lack thereof in his household). He also settled into a position commensurate with his ability and personality – that is to say one that required a well-rounded intellect and required little intrapersonal contact.
Publius Fred denies that he is a misanthrope, preferring curmudgeon. It is not so much that he dislikes others, as he is lacking in the ability to suffer fools lightly – and finds most others to be fools. No, no. That is too harsh. Publius Fred is, if not his own worst critic, most certainly in the running – you, Dear Reader, are welcome to apply for the position. Let us say he prefers to take his interaction with the rest of humanity in limited doses, and usually on terms where he is both in control of the situation and able to extricate himself therefrom with little difficulty.
But enough about me. Let's talk about you. How do you like me so far?
What, then, is the motivation for an aging, if not yet aged, curmudgeon to suddenly venture into the blogosphere and openly invite not just human contact (albeit disembodied), but derision? The truth is that Publius Fred has long felt the need to express his pent-up frustration with the decline of civilization and of the American brand thereof particularly. But the quickening of this need into a living thing was the 2016 Presidential Election. Though always a political devotee, with each quadrennial cycle Publius Fred has become more and more convinced that there is something deeply, intrinsically wrong with the beast that is American Democracy. The Frederalist Papers is his effort to distill this feeling into a coherent understanding of what is wrong, and whether it can be put right. In truth, Dear Reader, it is neither for you nor for posterity that Publius Fred has conceived of this trial, but for himself. If, however, you find it useful, or amusing, to join him of this journey, you are most welcome. “Fasten your seatbelts; it’s going to be a bumpy night.”
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