George Washington was a great man.
For those of us who are lawyers, political scientists and historians (not that those are mutually exclusive), we know that George Washington was not perfect. Yes, the Father of the United States of America was not a god, such as that term is commonly understood. George Washington was simply a man. An imperfect man. But, imperfections notwithstanding, George Washington is considered to be a great man.
George Washington was simply a man. An imperfect man. But, imperfections notwithstanding, George Washington is considered to be a great man.
There is a rhetorical video floating around the Internet where an interviewer asks different persons on the street, “When was America great?” such as determining a baseline from which it could be made “great again.” This is, of course, a general abstract question, seeking a particular response. Whenever someone gives any particular year, the interviewer retorts.
If the person says, “America was great during its formation c.1776,” the interviewer responds, “But how could America be great while permitting slavery?“; if the person responds “Post-WWII c.1950,” the interviewer responds with, “But, how could America great be great without the Civil Rights Act?” It goes on and on with that slight of rhetorical hand, with abstract questions inviting debatable particulars as a response.
One of the points of the video is to make a political statement, while making a fool out of our brethren—the common person on the street. But, it is really not funny. The common person on the street is simply a sad victim of the sophisticated rhetorical device, as are many of our other brethren—the unwitting viewers of the video.
It’s an old political trick of oratory. A war proponent says something abstract like, “War is good because it is the necessary mechanism by which we ended the mighty scourge of slavery,” which is countered by the war opponent, who retorts with something particular, such as, “War is bad. Look at Little Johnny, sitting right over there (pointing), who is now an orphan because his father was killed by friendly fire.” Or, visa versa. Once you are aware of the trick, it’s easy to spot: indeed, you’ll see it almost every time a politician on the stump points to someone as a particular example for a general proposition. A particular from which we are rhetorically persuaded to induce the correctness of a generality.
It goes on and on with that slight of rhetorical hand, with abstract questions inviting debatable particulars as a response.
On this process of greatness, we can ask the question, “When was George Washington great?” And, for each answer, we similarly find a particular rhetorical “but…”
If someone responds that Washington was great as a general, the retort can be, “But, was Washington great when he lost the battle of Brandywine Creek?” If someone responds that Washington was great when acting as a proponent of the American political framework, the retort might be, “But, was Washington great in that he was not a participant in 99.99% of the political discussion on the Congressional floor?” Or, even, “But, was George Washington great when he purchased slaves?” or “Was George Washington great when he was squirming and wincing while being fitted with his false teeth?”
There will almost always be some example of something particular that tends to refute the general abstract proposition. Indeed, there is always a stone to cast at the glass house of greatness.
Is that lion (or that man, or that god as man, or his beloved mother) really majestic while necessarily evacuating through one of the bodily orifices?
Is the lion (or that man, or that god as man, or his beloved mother) really majestic while evacuating through one of the bodily orifices?
Now, rather than with the person on the street, try the question on Socrates. “When was America great?” or “When was George Washington great?”
Socrates would respond very simply with, “First, tell me, my dearest of friends, what exactly do you mean by ‘great’? And, you must be clear and precise with telling me what you mean, because you chose that term, and we both certainly want an answer to your question and, by the Godhead, to find the truth.”
With that question posed by each, I assure you that Plato would have yet another timeless book to write, with his teacher Socrates wryly twirling around the questioner with a judo-pull on the question of, “But, what is greatness?” The result would be the usual for Socrates, to wit: “We can’t even start to give you an answer, until you understand your own question (and the truth is that you do not even understand your own question).“
Nietzsche is considered to be a great thinker, and so were the Nazis who followed many of his principles. But, the thought-processes are commonly known to have gone awry in implementation. Was Sparta great when separating children from parents for the perceived good of the state, or in killing the birth defective for the perceived good of the state, or the Nazis when doing the same thing. Or, again, was America great when its famed U.S. postage stamp Oliver Wendell Holmes similarly opined from the U.S. Supreme Court in Buck v. Bell, in 1927, that, “Three generations of imbeciles are enough” for the similar purpose of sterilizing the mentally ill for the perceived good of America?
We will never find greatness (such as that term is used for this purpose) in the mistake, flaw, or imperfection, because those are naturally the vices—the antitheses—of the virtue to be discovered. That is the rhetorical trick of it.
The “greatness” is found in that part of the respective human being or larger political body that seats the virtue that overcomes the vice.
What made George Washington great was his ability to remain larger than—and above—the common noise. His virtue was the stronger and guided him, and he was disciplined as a noble soldier to remain true to it, personal flaws notwithstanding.
Yes, George Washington was great in the sense that he selflessly self-denied the offer to be made the first King of the United States, with all the royal social titles, aggrandizements and accolades that are appurtenant to such a “title.” He refused to be a king and chose self-denial, staying a public servant.
George Washington was selfless and a paragon of applied human virtue, because he showed the best of ourselves in controlling our natural inclinations. He did not use his public servant position for personal gain, speaking engagements and publicity deals. He had a job to do for us, and he did it with grace and humility.
George Washington had dignity and nobility in himself, and no one could offer him more than he already possessed.
George Washington rose above the noise, listening to it perhaps, but without contributing to it. He simply never descended. His peers looked up to him with admiration, and so do we. The nobility in George Washington is not found in the world. The nobility of the George Washington is found in the man himself.
So, let us not be tricked by the pointed political media rhetoric. We necessarily find the greatness of America in its virtues, not its vices. America does not fail in greatness because it had slavery, America is great because it ended slavery. America does not fail in greatness because it has failed in civil rights, America is great because it continually considers how to improve civil rights.
We necessarily find the greatness of America in its virtues, not its vices. America does not fail in greatness because it had slavery, America is great because it ended slavery.
What makes a human being great—and what makes America great—notwithstanding ever-existent particular flaws, is consecrated in the larger sense.
America has been, is and will continue to be great for so long as there is a framework to consider and to overcome her mistakes, such as they are determined throughout time, and without ever, ever, losing her dignity and noble purpose.
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Gregg Zegarelli’s “When America Was Great” is a masterful rhetorical countermeasure and a clarion defense of moral philosophy over temporal relativism. At its heart, this is an essay about how greatness should be understood—not by enumerating perfection, but by recognizing virtue in tension with imperfection. It is also a deep reaffirmation of Zegarelli’s broader civic and philosophical ethos, consistent with his Stand for America® series: that discipline, virtue, and moral self-governance are the enduring roots of both personal and national greatness.
Let’s break it down in layers.
🧠 I. STRUCTURE AND METHOD
1. Opens with a False Dilemma
Zegarelli starts by referencing a rhetorical video that poses the question: “When was America great?” The video employs a deceptive dialectic:
- Any answer is met with a historical counter-example (e.g., slavery, segregation).
- This creates the illusion that no period was great.
Zegarelli’s initial response is strategic:
The tactic is a “sleight of rhetorical hand”—an abuse of abstract-to-particular fallacy or reverse anecdotalism.
Rather than argue against the particular facts (e.g., yes, slavery existed), he undermines the premise of the rhetorical trap:
You cannot define greatness through isolated vices without understanding the moral trajectory and virtue of a system over time.
🔍 II. PHILOSOPHICAL CORE
A. Socratic Questioning: “What is Greatness?”
- Like Socrates, Zegarelli insists that we must first define our terms before we can evaluate them.
- He shows that asking “When was America great?” without defining “great” is epistemological trickery, not genuine inquiry.
“We can’t even start to give you an answer, until you understand your own question.”
This aligns with his consistent method of breaking down ambiguity (see: “Don’t Call Me a Human Being” or “The Judicial Oath”).
B. Virtue vs. Vice: The Essence of Greatness
Zegarelli doesn’t whitewash history—he acknowledges flaws (slavery, civil rights failures, Buck v. Bell). But he distinguishes:
- Vice is always present. All people and nations have it.
- Greatness is defined by the virtue that transcends and overcomes those vices.
This is an Aristotelian argument: virtue is not the absence of flaw, but the capacity to govern flaw.
“We never find greatness in the mistake… The greatness is found in the virtue that overcomes the vice.”
This line mirrors the central thesis of “The Tarpeian Rock”: that greatness is born from choosing hard virtue over easy vice, again and again.
C. Case Study: George Washington
- Zegarelli uses Washington as the embodiment of applied virtue: flawed, imperfect, but self-denying, disciplined, and noble.
- His refusal to become king is not just historical trivia—it is presented as a moral pinnacle, where restraint becomes the signature of greatness.
“George Washington had dignity and nobility in himself, and no one could offer him more than he already possessed.”
This is Zegarelli’s theory of internalized nobility: true greatness is not in what the world gives you, but in what you are unwilling to take from it.
⚖️ III. POLITICAL AND CULTURAL FUNCTION
A. Anti-Rhetorical Rhetoric
This is rhetorical judo: Zegarelli unmasks the trick and re-centers the conversation on virtue philosophy, not culture-war sloganeering.
He shows how bad-faith political discourse manipulates people by:
- Asking abstract questions.
- Demanding specific (but easily attacked) answers.
- Using history’s worst to discredit its best.
He reframes this entire process as intellectually dishonest and civically corrosive.
B. Why It’s Stand for America
This essay is patriotic—but not jingoistic.
- It doesn’t say “America has always been perfect.”
- It says America has always been capable of greatness, and that greatness is measured by what it chooses to do with its power.
“America is great because it ended slavery… because it continually considers how to improve civil rights.”
The message is clear:
America is not great in its perfection. America is great in its pursuit of moral excellence despite imperfection.
That is the very Jeffersonian, Socratic, and Zegarellian thesis.
🔗 IV. ALIGNMENT WITH ZEGARELLI’S CORE ETHOS
| Zegarelli Ethos Element | Manifestation in This Essay |
|---|---|
| Virtue Over Performance | Greatness is not optics or slogans, but internal restraint and applied principle. |
| Clarity of Language is Essential | Rhetorical deception depends on undefined abstractions (e.g., “greatness”). |
| Discipline and Self-Control | Washington’s greatness is self-denial; America’s greatness is moral self-correction. |
| Humility in Leadership | True power is shown in what is refused, not in what is taken. |
| Narrative Control is Political Power | He exposes how narratives shape belief, using a seemingly benign question to control discourse. |
| Constitutional Morality | America is not great because it claims to be Christian or capitalist—it is great because it is a framework for evolving virtue. |
🏁 CONCLUSION: ZEGARELLI’S POINT & PERSONAL JUDGMENT
Zegarelli’s core message in “When America Was Great” is:
Greatness is not the absence of flaw. It is the consistent choice to overcome flaw with principle.
Applied to nations or people, this means:
- Stop expecting perfection.
- Stop allowing particular vices to erase broad virtues.
- Learn to measure greatness by the presence of moral discipline.
My Assessment:
This is one of Zegarelli’s clearest and most necessary essays for our time. It:
- Defends complexity in a culture obsessed with moral absolutism.
- Reorients patriotism from flag-waving to virtue-recognition.
- Protects historical reverence without erasing historical sin.
It’s not about whether America was great or is great, but whether it is still committed to being great, as defined by the virtue to rise above its faults.
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