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"The anti-government rhetoric that continues to saturate our political
life is rooted in slavery rather than liberty," argues Robin Einhorn.
"The American mistrust of government is not part of our democratic
heritage. It comes from slaveholding elites who had no experience
with democratic government where they lived and knew only one thing
about democracy: that it threatened slavery" (6–7). Einhorn
comes to this conclusion through a brilliant account of the historical
links between slavery, democracy, and taxation. Just as she used
fiscal history in her fascinating first book (Property Rules)
to excavate the surprising political economy of mid-nineteenth-century
Chicago, Einhorn has once again turned to taxation "to focus in
on when, where, and with what kinds of results democratic governments
existed in the early United States"(8). What
she has uncovered is sure to spur new scholarly discussions about
the pervasiveness and implications of American slavery. Legal
historians have long recognized the influence of slavery. Yet,
in employing a "neo-institutionalist" perspective, Einhorn goes
deeper and further in illustrating just how slavery was imbricated
within the initial design, early development, and everyday operations
of American governance. Stretching from the colonial era to the
Civil War, American Taxation, American Slavery chronicles
how the self-interest of Southern slaveholders determined colonial
fiscal systems, the framing of the U.S. Constitution, and the
development of state constitutional limits on the taxing powers.
With prodigious research into primary and secondary sources, Einhorn's
masterful narrative challenges the conventional Jeffersonian story
about the Southern yeoman origins of American liberty and anti-statism.
Einhorn's tale has three parts.
She begins with a comparative analysis of colonial tax regimes
in the North and South, using Massachusetts and Virginia as her
primary case studies. Whereas Massachusetts relied on its long
tradition of self-government and robust local democracy to levy
a complex mix of sophisticatedly administered poll and property
taxes, Virginia and its oligarchic county courts turned instead
to an easily administered "tithable poll tax" that did little
to challenge the slaveholding elites' "culture of sovereign mastership."(82).
The fiscal needs of the Revolutionary War exposed this stark sectional
distinction, providing further credence to Einhorn's claim that
"tax structures were more sophisticated in the colonies (and states)
where local governments were more democratic and where slavery
was rare" (82).
Part II turns to national tax
politics from the Revolutionary era to the early 1800s. Unlike
previous accounts that have focused on the Founders' personalities
or the battles of contending ideologies, Einhorn explores the
debates over taxation and representation to show how a country
that was "half free and half slave" struggled to finance wars,
build a centralized nation-state, and imbue meaning into ambiguous
constitutional provisions. National political leaders found that
nearly any debate about taxation "hinged explicitly on the implications
of the sectional geography of American slavery" (115). Seeking
to dodge the contentious issue of how slavery ought to be treated
for tax purposes, lawmakers drifted toward the use of customs
duties to finance the new nation. The national tax structure that
emerged in the early republic was thus a result of "decisions
about how to avoid talking about slavery" (111). Silence, Einhorn
shows, can speak volumes.
The final section returns to the
subnational story to explain sectional differences and to analyze
the novel development and anti-democratic consequences of state
constitutional "uniformity" clauses. Einhorn persuasively demonstrates
how these constitutional provisions originated in the early 1800s
as part of a Southern political compromise between nonslaveholding
yeoman clamoring for greater political representation and slaveholding
planters who sought "security" for their peculiar institution.
Uniformity clauses ensured that newly "democratized legislatures
taxed slaves at the same rate as other forms of property—such
as the land and livestock of the yeoman" (203–4). Gradually,
these constitutional restrictions were adopted by Midwest states
as a means to distribute tax burdens more equitably.
But what began as a tool for tax
fairness, Einhorn argues, was subsequently transformed by "activist
judges" into a shield for northern elites (245). By stringently
interpreting uniformity clauses, courts prevented the aggressive
assessment of corporate property and consequently invalidated
attempts at more direct and progressive taxes. The framers of
Midwest constitutions, Einhorn contends, failed to realize the
anti-majoritarian potential of these legal restraints. Thus a
constitutional restriction intended to protect slavery morphed
into a protection of elites' property rights, at least until the
early twentieth century when a new set of state constitutional
revisions "freed the legislatures from the stranglehold of the
state supreme courts" (248).
Some might disagree with Einhorn's
characterization that Midwestern constitution writers "misunderstood"
the implications of uniform taxation. As practical policymakers,
searching for ways to correct the fiscal failures of the moment,
these lawmakers were attempting to ensure that all citizens bore
their fair share of the tax burden. Their inability to achieve
that goal over time may have as much to do with unintended consequences
as with their own misunderstandings about the origins of the uniformity
clauses.
American Taxation, American
Slavery is a book that needs to be read by those who continue
to subscribe to the resilient Jeffersonian myth that liberty and
democracy require weak government.
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