“I am obliged to confess I should sooner live in a society governed by the first two thousand names in the Boston telephone directory than in a society governed by the two thousand faculty members of Harvard University,” William F. Buckley Jr. once quipped. It was likely a fair judgment when he said it, and if you can still find a phone book, it might even hold today. Still, one may reasonably wonder how much common sense remains among the inhabitants of Boston or Manhattan.

Yet Buckley’s remark points to something deeper: an enduring American preference for the common man. This instinct animates the MAGA movement and underlies the familiar call to “drain the swamp.” In the Trump era, candidates feel compelled to present themselves as political outsiders, regardless of how educated or well-connected they may be. It is possible, after all, to become so educated that one loses touch with common sense.

But the more pressing question is whether elites are a problem in themselves or whether our present elites have failed in a distinct and meaningful way. To understand this tension, it is worth returning to the founding fathers, where America’s faith in the common man began.

The founders established a government of and for the people because they believed ordinary citizens were capable of self-rule. Thomas Jefferson believed that a republic of yeoman farmers – living virtuous, independent lives – offered the surest foundation for liberty and human flourishing. This was a new and controversial idea, not without critics. In response to those who doubted the capacity of farmers to govern, Jefferson noted that American farmers “are the only farmers who can read Homer.”

Here we see how uncommon Jefferson’s common man is today. How many of us are reading Homer?

The apparatuses of American government were not designed to be maintained by men who came ready from the womb. There was an expectation that Americans would learn to be statesmen. Good statecraft requires skilled craftsmen, and the founders understood this because they themselves were brilliant statesmen.

Yet they did not become brilliant statesmen by accident. They were deeply conversant in Western tradition. They drew on Cicero for lessons on civic virtue, John Locke for natural rights theory, Montesquieu for the separation of powers, Aristotle’s ethics for guidance on virtue and leadership, Plato’s “Republic” on justice and governance, and Plutarch’s “Lives” for examples of moral character. Above all, they were informed by the moral and political lessons of the Old and New Testaments. They constantly invoked these sources when framing arguments about liberty, virtue, and republican government.

If a modern campaign ad ran touting a candidate’s love of Aristotle’s “Nicomachean Ethics,” would that make you trust him more or less? Would Jefferson agree with you?

One of the most remarkable events in human history illustrates this principle. George Washington, having defeated a global superpower and with a continent before him, voluntarily resigned command and returned home. He did so partially in imitation of Cincinnatus, the hero of republican Rome, a deliberate act of civic virtue that set the tone for the new republic. He could not have imitated what he had never read. We do not get Washington without that formation.

The problem with our elites today is that many have abandoned the Western tradition. Instead, they study figures who scorn the very foundations of American common life. In fact, many of today’s politicians are brilliant managers of power because that’s all they believe in. They do not know the first thing about aiming that power at the good, the true, and the beautiful.

This, I think, is what Buckley meant about being governed by the common man rather than the elite. But it is not education itself that is at fault; rather, it is the wrong education.

The mistake we must avoid at all costs is blaming education per se. We still need young men to truly learn how to govern, to become capable, virtuous, and competent leaders. And if you have no plans to run for office in the future, you are not off the hook. You still must vote, which means you must learn to recognize the qualities of good statecraft in others. Otherwise, we will be tossed to and fro by waves of changing political doctrines.

We must give ourselves to the hard labor of being formed. Find a good list of the classics and get to work. If you don’t farm, read Homer at the auto shop, or in between sets at the gym. Find time for thinking, and above all, for prayer. We need much of both.

If we want Washingtons to lead us, we need to be capable of recognizing them. If we want statesmen, we need to build the habits that form them.

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This article was made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal.

Image credit: Picryl