In the end, the American Revolution was not a utopian experiment in self-governance, nor was it merely a continuation of old power structures under a new name. It was an exercise in strategic state-building, a pragmatic response to the realities of power in an anarchic world. It established the foundation for a nation that would, through its consolidation and eventual expansion, assert itself as a dominant force. The Revolution was not just about liberty—it was about survival, sovereignty, and the long-term pursuit of power in a world that rewards strength.

Montesquieu’s argument that the structure of government determines the fate of liberty is not an abstract philosophical exercise—it is a cold, rational assessment of power. In The Spirit of the Laws, Montesquieu asserts that the concentration of power is the death knell of freedom, that without institutional constraints, governance inevitably decays into tyranny. His doctrine of separation of powers is not merely a suggestion for balance but an imperative safeguard against the natural tendency of rulers to consolidate authority.

The Articles of Confederation and the Iroquois Constitution both attempt to check the excesses of centralized power, but they do so in fundamentally different ways—one through fragmentation and the other through equilibrium. Neither fully satisfies Montesquieu’s model, though for opposite reasons. The Articles err by diffusing power so completely that no effective governance is possible, while the Iroquois structure leans on tradition and consensus rather than institutional mechanisms to prevent tyranny. In both cases, there are crucial points of convergence and divergence with Montesquieu’s framework.

First, Montesquieu’s separation of powers is predicated on a structured antagonism between branches of government. Power must be divided in such a way that each branch has both the means and the motivation to check the other. The Articles of Confederation fail this test. They do not separate powers within a governing structure but instead atomize authority among the states. The national government is deliberately rendered impotent—it lacks an executive, it has no judiciary, and it cannot enforce its own laws. The logic behind this design is clear: the framers feared a strong central authority more than they feared governmental inefficacy. But Montesquieu would have recognized this for what it was—a miscalculation. A government too weak to act is no protector of liberty. It invites disorder, and disorder is the pretext for despotism. The Articles, by failing to create a true separation of powers within a functioning national framework, create a vacuum that will inevitably be filled, not by deliberate institutional balance, but by brute necessity when crisis demands a stronger hand.

The Iroquois Constitution, by contrast, does offer a form of division of power, though one rooted in a different philosophical tradition. The League of the Iroquois was a confederation of distinct nations, each with its own authority, yet bound together by common councils and collective decision-making. Power was not concentrated in a singular executive, nor was it dispersed to the point of paralysis. Instead, authority was distributed among different levels of governance, with mechanisms of consensus-building serving as an implicit check on any single faction’s dominance. This structure mirrors Montesquieu’s principle in that it limits any single locus of authority, preventing the accumulation of unchecked power. However, the enforcement of balance in the Iroquois model relies less on formal institutional design and more on cultural norms of deliberation and restraint. Montesquieu would likely see this as an imperfect, though partially effective, realization of his theory—functional in practice but vulnerable if traditions weakened or if consensus fractured.

3/6
S. Tominaga AKA CSW
Mar 7, 2025
https://x.com/CsTominaga/status/1897922218803560706?t=I0ex9TRvRRBkTHuidGlPzQ&s=19

https://t.me/S_Tominaga/2647