We can’t say we weren’t warned.
America’s founders, steeped in classical thought and wise in the vagaries of human behavior, worried as they pondered how best to establish a constitutional republic. From studying faraway countries and civilizations that long predated their own revolutionary era, they feared that rambunctious electoral politics might endanger the representative democracy they envisioned.
Even before the last rifle shots of the War of Independence were fired, John Adams wrote to a friend, “There is nothing I dread so much as a division of the republic into two great parties. . . . This, in my humble apprehension, is to be dreaded as the greatest political evil under our Constitution.”
Adams was referring to the Constitution of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, which he drafted and saw ratified in 1780, the year he sent his letter. Later that decade, the document — underscoring popular sovereignty, checks and balances, and a bill of rights — served as a model for the United States Constitution.
As the new nation’s leadoff vice president and second president, Adams wasn’t alone in fretting about the hazards of parties. After eight years as America’s first chief executive, George Washington devoted a major portion of his farewell address in 1796 to “the baneful effects of the spirit of party.”
Washington, who didn’t campaign against an opponent either time he sought the presidency, counseled the citizenry of nearly 5 million people that “the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it.”
Adams and Washington foresaw that undue party loyalty could undermine national unity and poison the possibility of officeholders and citizens working together to solve critical problems. They weren’t alone. Instead of targeting parties, writers of The Federalist (now commonly known as The Federalist Papers), which circulated in 1787 and 1788 to support ratification of the Constitution, cautioned readers against forming “factions.” Like parties, factions emphasized group solidarity and interest rather than the more encompassing and worthwhile public interest.
In Federalist No. 10, James Madison argued that the causes of faction were innate in human nature, but that people possessed the potential to keep a faction from pushing too far for its own benefit to the exclusion of the nation’s common purpose. Madison referred to “the mischiefs of faction” in two different parts of his essay, a possible inspiration for Washington’s phrase about the “mischiefs of the spirit of party” nine years later.
Interestingly, Washington, Adams and Madison all won presidential elections. Washington, independent of party affiliation, was twice the unanimous choice of the Electoral College. Adams, a Federalist, and Madison, a Democratic-Republican, became standard-bearers of the two major parties in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. They — and like-minded politicos — knew American elections were destined to be spirited, interparty contests. But the amount of power a party or faction exerted served as a lingering concern.
Fast forward to 2026, and it’s legitimate to consider whether the extreme partisanship we currently witness makes it impossible for our constitutional system to operate in the orderly, albeit intricate, manner the founders created.
Since 1995, Americans have seen eight shutdowns, either complete or partial, of the federal government, one lasting 43 days last year. These prolonged interparty gambits of Washington, D.C., brinksmanship are a flashing warning sign of paralyzing gridlock caused by out-of-control partisanship.
The push and pull of different opinions and approaches triggers healthy debates. However, what’s increasingly unhealthy is debilitating disagreement and discord. Consensus through compromise becomes unlikely as steadfast adversaries glower at each other across a yawning chasm.
Until relatively recently, each major party featured a large-tent spectrum of political convictions. The Democratic coalition included big-city liberals and conservatives from Southern states. The Republican side combined conservatives from the Midwest and Far West with liberals from the Northeast.
No more.
These days, in a profound and undeniable realignment, those on the Democratic right or the Republican left are politically homeless, meaning disputes always tend to occur between liberal Democrats and conservative Republicans. Without what used to be an internal variety of thought that blunted ideological excesses, arguments now take place from opposite ends of the pole. In the evocative words of Irish poet W.B. Yeats, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.”
During the past three decades, Democrats and Republicans have battled with such regularity and intensity that the “spirit of party” Washington considered harmful has taken hold not only among those professionally engaged in politics but also among each party’s most fervent supporters. You might say contemporary “base politics” has made our politics base — as in vile or nasty.
Last fall the Pew Research Center conducted a survey of 3,445 adults inquiring about the state of the parties. Respondents showed remarkable consistency: 44 percent of both Democrats and Republicans accept it when elected officials from their own party call their counterparts from the opposing party “evil.” Substantial majorities — 72 percent of Republicans and 71 percent of Democrats — thought that their party governs “honestly,” but only 16 percent of Republicans believed Democrats govern honestly and just 10 percent of Democrats said Republicans do.
These findings reflect what political observers call “negative partisanship” — disdain for the opposing side so passionate that it frequently becomes more influential than an ardent attachment to one’s own camp.
In this hyperpartisan environment, polarization flourishes, making it difficult to find any middle ground for working together. Moreover, the media — both mainstream and social — have an inherent attraction to conflict that often exacerbates contentious quarrels.
The viciousness of this period can be seen most dramatically — and regrettably — in the rise of political violence. The U.S. Capitol Police investigated 9,474 cases involving threats to the 535 members of Congress and their families in 2024. That’s nearly 18 threats per senator or representative.
Vastly more troubling are the two assassination attempts on Donald J. Trump, the murders of Minnesota state legislator Melissa Hortman and her husband and of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, and the firebombing of the Pennsylvania governor’s residence with Governor Josh Shapiro and his family inside the home.
In a poll of 5,547 people age 18 and older released this year by the Public Religion Research Institute, 67 percent of respondents expressed the belief that politicians’ failure to condemn violent rhetoric contributed significantly to violent actions. Assessments of blame for the violence were nearly identical across party lines: 73 percent of Democrats said right-wing groups were at fault, while 72 percent of Republicans identified left-wing provocateurs as the cause.
Both sides have made up their minds about responsibility, and the divide is stark and alarming. No wonder civil communication and collaborative projects rarely take place among die-hard partisans nowadays.
The founders designed a system of government that broadly distributed duties and responsibilities to those either making or executing or interpreting laws. They realized that explicit, constitutional checks and balances were needed to prevent extreme, undemocratic actions.
Doubtlessly for just reasons, the words “party” and “faction” never appear in the Constitution. The writers of its original seven articles wanted government to operate in a deliberate and understandable way without regard to partisan or factional motivations.
In the classic description of the late political scientist Richard Neustadt, the Constitution established a system of “separated institutions sharing powers.” The three distinct branches came together in a sturdy tree rooted in ideas and principles that, ultimately, became a model for many other countries.
Today’s extreme partisanship is vigorously shaking that tree to the point that the founders’ system is in serious jeopardy. When the politics of cross-party combat trumps governing, winning the next election takes precedence over responsibly serving the people. The arrangement inverts the original ideal of democratic campaigning that leads to the exercise of republican government by those who’ve been elected.
With today’s worrying conduct, the forthright anxieties of Adams, Washington and Madison are far from being the bygone concerns of an era remote from our own. The “mischiefs” of party or factional allegiance they deplored continue to threaten the national unity that the Declaration of Independence aspired to achieve 250 years ago.
Robert Schmuhl is the Walter H. Annenberg-Edmund P. Joyce Professor Emeritus of American studies and journalism at Notre Dame and author of Mr. Churchill in the White House: The Untold Story of a Prime Minister and Two Presidents. He’s completing work on a new book about Churchill and Eleanor Roosevelt.