SUSAN DUNN
Conflict or Consensus? Lessons from
the Sister Revolutions
When President William Jefferson Clinton celebrates centrism, bipartisan–
ship, and consensus, he is not alone. Editorial writers and political
commentators endlessly bombard Washington and us with urgent calls for
consensus and an end to "party politics as usual." Their assumption seems
to be that, since the Founders built conflict into the very structure of the
government, the best strategy for governing is to rise above conflict. And
perhaps an even more basic assumption is that consensus and unity are
somehow healthier, more noble, less disruptive and destructive than parti–
san conflict. Sixty years ago, a President embraced conflict. In 1936,
Franklin Roosevelt, railing against the businessmen, bankers, and financiers
who rabidly attacked the New Deal, declared to a tumultuous Madison
Square Garden crowd, in his deliberate, distinctive voice, "They are unan–
imous in their hate for me, and I
welcome
their hatred!"
Do progress and change-the campaign promise made by virtually all
politicians-issue from unity or from conflict? Does a democracy achieve
political stability and health by valorizing concord, unity, and centrism or
by abetting competing interests and opposing ideologies? Do Americans
see conflict as a stabilizing or destabilizing force? As the century draws to
a close, have we come to fear political conflict? Do we long to transcend
division and contention and enter a harmonious realm free from strife?
If we look back to the American and French Revolutions, we may find
insight into the nature and history of the political concepts of conflict and
consensus, for one Revolution purposefully incorporated political conflict
in myriad forms while the other worshipped concord and consensus. The
sister revolutions that presented to the world two enduring and antitheti–
cal models of democracy may hold lessons for us concerning the health
and the future of our own democracy.
The harmony and consensus that reigned at the Constitutional
Convention in Philadelphia in 1787 delighted James Madison. The dele–
gates, he marveled, managed to deliberate without conflict or faction and
"with a unanimity almost as unprecedented as it must have been unex–
pected." Such concord was a rare achievement, almost a miracle. One could
