Trade protectionism has an American lineage dating back to the

In the words of Heather Mac Donald, “Trade protectionism has an American lineage dating back to the Founders; that lineage is distinct from white nationalism.” — we hear the call of remembrance, a voice urging us to distinguish principle from prejudice, and policy from passion. Her words, though steeped in the politics of the modern age, echo truths as old as the republic itself. She reminds us that the idea of protectionism, so often misunderstood or maligned, is not born of hatred or exclusion, but of the ancient art of stewardship — the safeguarding of one’s own people, labor, and prosperity. And yet, like all tools of power, it must be wielded with wisdom, lest it stray from its noble intent into the dark wilderness of division.

The origin of this thought lies deep in the soil of the American founding. When the early architects of the United States — George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and Thomas Jefferson — forged their vision for a new nation, they faced a world dominated by empires whose strength rested upon trade, industry, and might. In those first fragile decades, America was not the industrial giant it would become; it was a young and trembling republic, vulnerable to the vast machinery of European power. Thus, Hamilton’s “Report on Manufactures” in 1791 called for protective measures — tariffs and policies that would nurture American industry and preserve its independence. This was not a cry of hostility toward others, but of guardianship toward one’s own. To defend the farmer, the craftsman, and the laborer was an act of loyalty, not arrogance. It was, in the truest sense, protectionism as patriotism, born not of fear, but of foresight.

When Heather Mac Donald distinguishes this lineage from white nationalism, she strikes at a vital moral truth: that love of one’s country is not hatred of another’s. The ancients themselves knew this balance. The philosopher Cicero wrote that the good citizen is one who loves his homeland not to the exclusion of all others, but as one loves a parent — with gratitude and duty. To protect one’s nation, its workers, and its traditions is a noble act when it seeks the flourishing of all who belong to it, regardless of blood or creed. But when that same instinct is twisted into pride of race or contempt for the foreigner, it ceases to be patriotism and becomes idolatry. Thus, Mac Donald’s words are both reminder and warning — that the same fire which warms the hearth may also burn the house, if not tended with virtue.

History bears witness to both sides of this truth. In the early nineteenth century, President Abraham Lincoln — the great emancipator — was himself a champion of protective tariffs. He saw them not as tools of oppression, but as shields for the common worker, allowing American labor to stand on equal footing with the old powers of Europe. Under his vision, protectionism was the economic counterpart of freedom — it gave strength to the citizen, dignity to the craftsman, and independence to the nation. Yet, in later ages, voices arose that cloaked racial prejudice beneath the same banner, twisting economic protection into cultural isolation. In these misuses, we see how noble principles, when corrupted by fear or hatred, lose their virtue and betray their origin.

The ancients, too, warned of this danger. Aristotle taught that every virtue exists between two vices — courage between cowardice and recklessness, generosity between greed and waste. So it is with protectionism. In its pure form, it is the courage of a nation to tend to its own strength; in its corruption, it becomes the recklessness of shutting out the world. The wise ruler, like a good steward, must know when to guard the gates and when to open them. Too much openness weakens the walls; too much closure suffocates what is within. Balance, therefore, is the mark of true governance — the equilibrium between love of one’s own and respect for all.

Let us remember that the Founders’ vision of protectionism was rooted not in fear of others, but in faith in themselves. They sought not domination, but self-reliance; not exclusion, but endurance. To them, a nation that produced its own goods, employed its own people, and nourished its own soil was a nation that could stand upright among equals. This, and this alone, was the spirit of early American protectionism — a moral and practical pursuit of sovereignty and stability. To confuse it with nationalism of the blood or hatred of the outsider is to misunderstand both the heart of the Founders and the moral foundation of the republic they built.

Thus, from Heather Mac Donald’s words, we draw this timeless lesson: distinguish strength from cruelty, and loyalty from pride. It is right to guard what is ours, but never to despise what is not. A people may love their homeland with passion and still honor the dignity of others. The wise patriot builds walls not to imprison, but to protect — and opens gates not to surrender, but to welcome in peace. In this balance lies the true greatness of a nation, and the wisdom that endures through ages: that protection without prejudice is virtue, but protection fueled by hatred is ruin.

So, dear listener, when you hear the call to defend your nation, your craft, or your community, remember this — do so in the spirit of guardianship, not exclusion. Cherish what is yours, uplift those within your reach, but keep your heart free from malice. For the republic, like the soul, is preserved not by walls alone, but by the integrity of those who build them. And that, as the ancients would say, is the highest form of strength — a power tempered by wisdom, and a patriotism guided by grace.