Monday, April 6, 2015

Wall Street CEOs Suffering with Lower Pay: Self-Preservation or Greed?

As much as the titans on Wall Street pull in during a year, they still want more. It must be human nature. If so, nature may be at odds with narrowing economic inequality. Even as 2014's compensation figures show such a narrowing, I suspect that such a case is an exception rather than being indicative of a fundamental shift.

The CEOs of the five largest U.S. banks made on average 124 times the average worker at the banks in 2014. The corresponding figure for 2006 is 273 times. The CEOs were not hurting in 2014, however; collectively, they got $92.5 million ($18.5 million per CEO on average). The collective figure for 2006 is $173.6 million.[1] Meanwhile, the banks’ employees saw their compensation rise by 17% to $148,740 from $127,379. According to The Wall Street Journal, the increased reserve requirements under the Dodd-Frank Financial Reform law of 2010 made it costlier for the banks to increase profits by taking on more debt (i.e., leverage), and the CEO pay suffered accordingly.

Suffering may not be the best term to describe a CEO’s average pay of roughly $18 million per year. How much of that figure can even a person awash in luxury spend in a year? Doubtless, a significant amount is invested. Were I among that elite cadre, I would lean toward investing as much as I could so that one day I could live comfortably and with security of mind off the investment income. A job cannot be relied on in perpetuity. Even investing in just one company (e.g. Enron) or even one industry entails some risk. Moreover, I would diversify my portfolio internationally with security of mind foremost in mind.

I mention “security of mind” because the economizing instinct does not turn off after a certain level of income or wealth has been achieved because the future is almost by definition uncertain. Put another way, you never know for sure whether what you have stored away in a savings account will be enough even for survival needs. So the bank CEOs were probably scrambling in 2014 to come up with non-leveraged ways of increasing earnings per share as if $18 million were not enough. This is an instinctual rather than a rational dynamic although reason does confirm that nothing in the future is absolutely certain.

Profit-seeking activity and accumulated wealth do not necessarily indicate the presence of greed, or love of economic gain.[2] So it is possible to go on with the economizing instinct without necessarily being greedy. Where the instinct is exaggerated or multiplied into an obsession, however, love of gain is very likely in the mix. For the 5 CEOs, reaching the point of being able to live off very well diversified investment income is quite possible. At that point, whether or not the CEO continues on with the instinct may give us a sense of whether greed has taken over.

From my own experience, I have struggled with whether to stockpile too much food in case I ever need it. For instance, I spent Easter 2015 volunteering at a Christian church’s meal for the impoverished and food pantry. I was selected for heavy labor on the tables since I was the youngest among the volunteers (which really says something). Before the meal, I could go through the pantry myself to get some food supplies. Even though the volunteer taking me through the pantry would not have curtailed my appetite to stockpile, I kept well within the allotment that anyone would get.[3] The following day, however, I could have returned to the church and helped myself to still more, but I asked myself, How much is enough, really? Sure, I could have used the additional food, but I could not shake that question, so I did not avail myself of the church’s generously-stocked outdoor cabinet that was always open; I would not abuse the church’s openness, which I had seen so little of when I had volunteered at food pantries in my rather sordid hometown. My point here is that I felt the instinct to stockpile and I could see its relation to food-security, yet I could not cleft the presence of the economizing urge from what greed might have been in me at the time. At any rate, a normative constraint can indeed be efficacious against the instinct and/or greed, though I don’t think a society can rely on such a check.

That even a Wall Street CEO cannot be absolutely certain that he or she would not want for necessities ever again leaves open the possibility that the economizing instinct—being inherently without a limit (i.e., a maximizing variable)—could still be operating rather than or more so than love of gain. Distinguishing the motive of self-preservation, which Thomas Hobbes emphasizes in Leviathan, from loving economic gain (not to mention taking it as an end in itself) is difficult. Whether a person seems to be obsessing on getting as much money out of other people as possible, especially if coupled with a willful disregard for related harm, however, can be taken as a good indicator of greed.



[1] Peter Rudegear, “Wall Street’s Pay Gap Slims,” The Wall Street Journal, April 6, 2015.
[2] Clement of Alexandria, a theologian in early Christianity, stressed that a person can be rich and yet cap his or her desire for more at the level of necessities. Augustine would disagree, and thus place limits on wealth before it can be taken as being indicative of underlying greed. See Skip Worden, God’s Gold: Beneath the Shifting Sands of Christian Thought on Profit-Seeking and Wealth,” ch.s 3 and 4.
[3] The ham supper was excellent, by the way. Just before the meal, people wanting food from the pantry were given tote bags with numbers attached, As they were called during the meal, the individuals would go to the pantry room and quickly return to their meal. I had the pleasure of sitting with a mix of low-income people and church members. I was impressed that everyone got into a discussion of the U.S. Civil War. We even had a confederate!  Our table was a microcosm of society re-integrated. In contrast, the Wall Street CEOs doubtless live in their own world, and sadly so do most poor people.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Fixing Federalism Sidestepped in Opposing E.P.A. Coal Regulations

In his letter to every state governor in March 2015, Mitch McConnell, the majority leader in the U.S. Senate, urged the state officials to ignore the E.P.A.’s regulations that when implemented would reduce carbon pollution from coal-fired power plants. In his letter, the senator complained that President Obama was “allowing the E.P.A. to wrest control of a state’s energy policy.”[1] Were McConnell the chair of the E.U.’ s European Council rather than the U.S.’s Senate, he would doubtlessly have pointed to the worsening “democracy deficit,” wherein regulators in the European Commission take power away from state legislatures. Yet, surprisingly (or many not), the majority leader did not frame the issue in terms of federalism.

Instead, McConnell depicted the political problem as being one between the Congress and the executive branch, including the White House. “The E.P.A. is bypassing Congress and the American people by unilaterally proposing these crippling regulations that would wreak havoc on our economy and are clearly unprecedented,” he said.[2] In other words, President Obama is going too far, usurping Congress’s constitutional power. Not a word edgewise about the states having to comply. “I have used and will continue to use all of the tools available to protect families and jobs,” he continued, “whether that be in Congress, or outside of the legislative process.”[3] What about protecting the state governments from further federal encroachment? Not a word.

I contend that the senator had a vested governmental and political interest in swerving off from the issue being federal encroachment, for the U.S. Senate is a federal institution and the senator gets his power from it. He was not about to urge the governors to resist federal power, not to mention wrestle some of it back to the states. Yet in protecting himself, his institution, and the government of which it is a part, the majority leader sidestepped an opportunity to attend to the viability of the American federal system. The senator’s short-term horizon could also be seen in that his stand on the regulations translates into greater climate change. The silver lining of this rather gray cloud is perhaps that if we heat the planet’s atmosphere enough, the question of the long-term viability of the American federal system will be moot.



[1] Coral Davenport, “McConnell Urges States to Help Thwart Obama’s ‘War on Coal,’” The New York Times, March 20, 2015.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Conflicts of Interest in Europe’s Greek-Austerity Impasse

At the conclusion of the European Council session in March 2015, all 19 of the state governors in attendance still wanted the state of Greece to remain with the euro. As for whether Greece should continue its austerity program and reform its economy as per the ongoing agreement on continued bailout funds, the tally was 18 to 1. Although both federal and state officials in the E.U. overwhelming believed that the austerity program had been behind the growth in the Greek economy in 2014, the Greek finance minister and most Keynesian economists disagreed, pointing to the fact that the state had lost a quarter of its GDP under the austerity. Besides this honest difference of opinion on the effectiveness of the strategy, conflicts-of-interest compromise the “club of 18” and thus its position.

The full essay is at "Essays on the E.U. Political Economy," available at Amazon.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

California’s Elongated Drought: Warming to a Changing Status-Quo

With the winter of 2014-2015 failing to deliver much of a snowpack to California, Californians entered a fourth year of drought. The measurement on March 3rd of the snowpack was the water equivalent of five inches, or 19% of the average for that date.[1] The drought’s extension ran counter to the conventional wisdom that droughts last three years in California. Such “wisdom” is problematic not only for its specific content in this case, but also because of the underlying presumption of epistemological infallibility. Ok, I’ll unpack this bit of creative verbosity. Without being aware of it, we tend to assume that we can’t be wrong about things we have not studied. In fact, we even dismiss the knowledge of those who are learned in a given subject in favor of our own belief that we can’t be wrong about what we suppose we know. This tendency of the human brain gets our species in a lot of trouble, yet we as a species are nearly blind to underlying drought.
Felicia Marcus, chair of the State Water Resources Control Board, said at the time, “Last year people thought we were in a regular three-year drought cycle and it would rain next year.”[2] Even though people were aware of global warming, they presumed that what they thought they knew of the drought cycle was still applicable. Underlying this assumption is the more basic one that tomorrow will be like today and yesterday.

Problematically, the three-year drought-cycle presumption may have made California’s water-situation even worse. With the rain in December 2014, Californians generally may have taken longer showers and left their bathroom facets on while brushing their teeth under the mistaken assumption that drought must be ending. The following month was dry, so people watered normally dormant landscapes.

Even in trying to explain the elongated drought, people were getting it wrong in concluding that the cause was changing precipitation patterns. Global warming, evinced in California’s record average temperature in the winter of 2014-2014 of 45.6 degrees (F), is the actual cause. “The normal cyclical conditions in California are different now from what they used to be, and that’s not because the long-term annual precipitation changed,” Noah Diffenbaugh at Stanford’s Woods Institute for the Environment explains. “What is really different is there has been a long-term warming in California . . . (a)nd we know from looking at the historical record that low precipitation years are much more likely to result in drought conditions if they occur with high temperatures.”[3]  Yet in spite of such evidence and that of the Earth’s atmosphere as warming above and beyond normal cycles, enough people cling to their antiquated knowledge as if they cannot be wrong that I suspect that a human tendency is involved.

“It’s a three year drought,” someone in Sacramento says. The sheer declarative tone has the ring of hubris because the person has not read anything on the drought. The assumption of knowing nonetheless is precisely where the problem lies, if I am correct in my theory here. The human mind may put too much stock in its own machinery and its output. Another Californian says in San Diego, “Southern California is suffering from a shift in the precipitation pattern.” Let’s say he has not read this; it is his conclusion, or one of his friends has told him. Even without reading anything on the science of climate change even in a newspaper like The New York Times, the San Diegan may dismiss Diffenbaugh’s statement out of hand. It is the sheer dismissiveness that strikes me as arrogant, even strange. The Californian may even say (as I have heard before), “I don’t need to read the science; I know it is in dispute.” Well, actually it is not, but such a person—such a mind—would not know it because it is closed off—a closed system—and yet it is utterly unaware of what it itself has done to itself. Like the light from the most distant star, the news of the deed has not reached the doer yet—the doer who presumes to know beyond what any actual learning can bestow legitimacy.

Abstractly, I hypothesize (i.e., propose) that the human brain contains a vulnerability in bringing to experience—structuring it rather than from it (i.e., a priori rather than a posteriori)—the presumption of knowing more than is actually known and furthermore not being capable of being wrong even about such “knowledge.” It is as if a person were to go to some neighboring houses and without entering any of them proceeding nonetheless to speak in a tone of definitiveness to the occupants about what they should clean up inside. The mere tone would ooze out arrogance and presumption, and yet the speaker could be oblivious to what he is projecting from his or her own mind onto experience and thus the world—structuring it as he perceives it.

Philosophers may recall Kant’s claim that the mind provides its own structure on space and time themselves—and not from experience. Such synthetic, a priori ideas as we bring to our perception of space and time are like the epistemological assumptions that we carry around with us all the time. In both cases, we have no clue that we are bringing these ideas to the dance because we have them constantly with us. Noticing them would be like fish noticing the water in which they spend their entire lives. That which is a constant for us can easily be invisible rather than transparent to us, and thus escape our notice. Yet as Kant points out, we can notice, through reasoning.

Probing a person on knowledge we know lies beyond his or her reach, we can see the problematic assumptions in the absurdity to which he or she will go to defend the purported knowledge. Like arrogance on stilts during an increasingly common flood from a storm surge in Miami, the presumption should be under water rather than held above as if it were Moses incarnate coming down the mountain with a new tablet. Unfortunately, the mind’s internal defense-mechanisms can block the reception of even such obvious feedback, so it is probably pretty rare for the mind to “see” the “water” in which it has always resided. If I am correct, the mind itself—hence not out of experience—structures knowledge in terms of presumptuousness. That is to say, the problematic assumptions are not in the knowledge; rather, they come from the human mind and are projected onto the purported knowledge such that learning or becoming informed are assumed to be optional rather than requisite. The mind itself presumes itself so entitled even though the assumption is untenable. The fallacious thinking should be under water (naturally oblivious to it) rather than looking down from stilts as if not only legitimate at water-level, but also an authority above.



[1] Adam Nagourney, “Alarm Rises For a State Withered By Drought,” The New York Times, March 18, 2015.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Does the Affordable Care Act: Healthcare as a Human Right?

Did the Americans who were in favor of passage of the Affordable Care Act in 2010 believe that access to healthcare is a human right? Did the Americans who opposed “Obamacare” reject that assumption and thus favor treating health insurance as a commodity? We can look at political and economic indications to reach an answer.

According to a report by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, based in turn on Gallup survey data from early March 2015, 16.4 million people had gained health-insurance coverage since the Affordable Care Act went into effect. The figure includes people who signed up for Medicaid under the law. “When it comes to the key metrics of affordability, access and quality, the evidence shows that the Affordable Care Act is working, and families, businesses and taxpayers are better off as a result,” said Sylvia Mathews, the Health and Human Services Secretary at the time of the report.[1]  That the uninsured rate had fallen to 13% from 20% at the beginning of open-enrollment in October 2013 supports the secretary’s conclusion. 

The strongest gains were from the states whose governments expanded Medicaid. “Those states had an average baseline uninsured rate of 18% in early March, compared with 23% for those that didn’t.”[2] This suggests that an upturn in the economy did not account for all of the change. The overall increase is large enough that the upswing in the economy is not likely to be the sole cause, according to Rachel Garfield, a researcher at the Kaiser Family Foundation.[3]

Furthermore, the difference between the two zones of states (to borrow a catchy term from Europe) points to an ideological condition wherein Americans as a whole were not convinced that access to medical care is a human right, and thus a responsibility of government. Modern federalism, wherein the member-states and federal institutions both have a share of governmental sovereignty, accommodates “being on the fence” concerning whether a benefit is properly a commodity or human right.  To the extent that the benefit is available regardless of state, that extent of being insured from the federal government can be treated as a human right, whereas the amount of benefit left up to the states indicates the extent to which Americans do not consider health-care to be a human right.

Admittedly, a federal base-level combined with various amounts of contribution from member-states does not necessarily mean that “We the People” are on the fence on whether a benefit is a human right. A person could be in favor of more state authority because of an excess at the federal level, for instance, while firmly believing that the benefit at hand is a human right. Clearly, other measures are needed in the assessment.

Another indication of the extent to which Americans as a whole consider health-care to be a human right is how close the percentage of uninsured is to zero. The uninsured rate of 13% for adult Americans and illegal immigrants in March 2015 tells us that health-care was not viewed as a full or established human right. Were access to medical care definitively regarded by “We the People” as a human right and the elected representatives representative of their constituents as a whole, the Federal Government would see to it that every American or even every resident of the U.S. has access to healthcare. This does not necessarily imply a single-payer system, though reliance on private insurance companies without subsidies for every poor person would be insufficient.




[1] Stephanie Armour, “Rate of Uninsured Falls Sharply Under Health Law, Report Says,” The Wall Street Journal, March 17, 2015.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

The German Government Refuses to Pay Down Its Debt: How Un-German!

How should a government spend a budget surplus? In California, the Californian government put some of its surplus in a “rainy-day fund” in 2014. The following year, the German government made plans to use any surplus in 2016 “to increase investment instead of repaying debt.”[1] This means the government “could spend more to support the German economy and that of its neighbors.”[2] Undoubtedly, the E.U. economy would benefit, especially if the U.S. dollar were to continue to appreciate against the euro. However, the decision not to use even a portion of the anticipated surplus to pay down some of the government debt is problematic.

The German government balanced its 2014 budget—the first since 1969.[3] Achieving a surplus must therefore be quite a feat, rather than easily achieved. Considering the E.U.’s limit on state debt to GDP (3%), not paying down some of the debt in a time of surplus risks breaching the federally-imposed limit when the next recession rolls around.

Looking out to the horizon, paying down debt during years of surplus then switching to a rainy-day fund when the debt has been eliminated could conceivably mean that the government would not have to issue debt during a recession. In fact, building up an “endowment” and opening part of its revenue up to fund the government could conceivably make taxes obsolete! That is to say, were a democracy to be capable of such self-discipline concerning taxation and spending that enough money could be put in a risk-balanced investment portfolio, then more and more of the government’s spending could be funded out of the investment revenue rather than taxes. That a part of that revenue would be reinvested (plus the continued annual contributions to the fund out of surpluses) means that at some point the revenue or even just a portion of which could fund the entire budget such that taxes could be ended. I take this to be the fiscal telos of government.



1. Andrea Thomas, “Berlin Moves to Spend Now, Save Later,” The Wall Street Journal, March 14-15, 2015.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Right to Work or Destroying Unions: A False Dichotomy

On March 9, 2015, Wisconsin became a “right to work” State. That is to say, labor unions cannot force every worker of a unionized company to pay union dues and fees. At the time, 24 other States had the law on their books. I submit that both the “right to work” slogan and the unions’ charge that the law unfairly goes after unions are misleading.

In signing the bill, Wisconsin’s Governor Scott Walker said that the law “will give workers the freedom to choose whether or not they want to join a union.”[1] Workers had that freedom, strictly speaking, though it could be argued that in having to pay dues whether or not they joined the union at their company, they did not really have the freedom to be completely out.  Put another way, the option they lacked was to not join the union at their company and not have that union get anything out of their paychecks. A worker not wanting to join the union would still have to pay union dues (although not the portion devoted to political lobbying). The unfairness of the requirement weakens the unions’ claim that the law is designed to depress wages and destroy unions. A non-union employee living paycheck to paycheck may want to see a union destroyed that takes money out anyway.

To be partisan in politics is to obfuscate the whole and distend and distort a part. In this case, both sides exceed their mark in embellishing their own causes. The non-unionized worker who was forced to pay union dues is somehow left out from the two poles even though arguably the focus of the law is precisely on his or her condition. That is to say, the law’s legitimacy stems from removing that particular unfairness rather than giving workers the freedom not to join a union, or destroying unions.



1. Monica Davey, “Unions Suffer Latest Defeat In the Midwest,” The New York Times, March 10, 2015.

Saturday, February 7, 2015

American Empire: Ch. 2

The British colonies in North America that would go on to be United States were provinciae, or dominions, of the British Empire; they were commensurate with occupied kingdoms rather than with intra-kingdom provinces such as principalities (“provinces”) or domestic companies. In other words, the colonies were kingdom-level members of the British Empire rather than “provinces” akin to Wales or Kent. They were colonies in the Greek rather than the Roman sense of the word.  Reaching this thesis is not as clean-cut as this initial statement may suggest. The colonies were “works-in-progress”; moreover, both medieval and early-modern polity-scales seem to have gone into their design. In other words, they emerged in a period of political transition and are thus difficult to classify.
For help in the classification, I draw on Althusius’ political theory, which emphasizes political completeness and territorial scale as the principal factors in a multi-level framework.[i]  Both factors have complicating elements when applied to the North American colonies. Beyond Althusius’ theory, that the terms province and colony, which were applied to the colonies, had more than one possible political meaning each contributes to the ambiguity.  To work through these complications, I draw on Bancroft’s theory on the colonies and primary sources.[ii]
The thesis has profound implications for whether the ex-colonies are currently equivalent to European countries or their sub-units; even an approximate answer could potentially help clear up any confusion or category mistakes that have hitherto been undetected or even taken as the default.  To suppose that a term’s elasticity implies that everything to which it has referred is equivalent is a fallacy that permits or accommodates category mistakes wherein two different categories are treated as equivalent. To treat provinciae of an empire as though they were equivalent to “provinces” (i.e., domestic principalities) within a kingdom is perhaps the epitome of the modern political category mistake. In the case of the British colonies in North America that went on as independent states to construct a Union, this error involves taking the colonies (and states) as being commensurate with principalities in contemporary European states of another Union. Correcting such an ahistoric error is apt to provoke reactions similar to that predicted of the European kings upon realizing that a new empire consisting of former British colonies existed across the Atlantic. Thomas Pownall, a member of the British Parliament, stated in January, 1780, “the sovereigns of Europe…shall find this new empire crossing all their settled maxims and accustomed measures.”[iii] Similarly, uncovering the basis of a mistaken equivalency is apt to contradict acquired habits of thought and assumed truths. To point to a contemporary category mistake that is generally presumed valid is, in other words, to swim against the current of established neuro-pathways in the modern mind.
The first step to in confronting category mistakes in comparative politics is to construct a framework in which the work of comparative restoration can be done. I construct such a framework here by appropriating from Althusius’ theory.


Althusius’ Theory: Associations of Associations

Althusius’s theory is hierarchical. As such, it can be viewed in medieval terms, as though Aquinas’ chain of being were reflected in there being lower and higher levels of political association. The emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, for instance,  was the majestas imperiis crowned ideally by the Pope.  In incorporating such a framework to situate the colonies for comparative purposes, I am rejecting the modern proclivity to treat countries of vastly different scales (and composition) as equivalent simply because they have an attribute—namely, sovereignty—in common.  As semi-sovereign Unions proliferate around the world, using sovereignty as the definitive basis of equivalence will become increasingly difficult and therefore less useful. Althusius’ theory of human association provides the basis of an alternative from another era. 
Althusius presents us with a system of associations of associations, with individuals being the members only of the lowest level: the guild and family.  These associations are the members of the village, town, or city association, which represent the lowest level of public association.  These local federations are in turn members of province associations, which are the members of kingdom associations.  The kingdom level is the minimum scale of political association that is reckoned as normatively sufficient for political completeness. Althusius uses “universal association” to denote being assumed “politically self-sufficient and complete,” and therefore capable of enjoying the rights of sovereignty.[iv]  Associations at the empire level are also politically complete, or universal, because they consist of kingdoms and therefore exceed the minimum scale.[v]  The local and province association-levels, however, must be politically insufficient, or partial, as they do not meet the minimum—the province associations being members of kingdom associations. While a step-wise leap in scale distinguishes associations of every level from those of the next-smaller, the distinction of political completeness occurs only between the province and kingdom scales. 
Also, as members of empire associations, kingdom-level associations are imperial dominions, or provinciae (the Roman term for dominion provinces). Bancroft observes it was by “heaping up conquests, adding island to continent, crushing nationalities, offering a shrine to strange gods, and citizenship to every vanquished people” that the Roman empire “extended over a larger empire the benefits of fixed principles of law.”[vi] The kingdom-level polities were, as dependencies, generally reconstituted as provinciae in the empire.   
Provinciae are distinct from “provinces” within a kingdom both in being a leap in scale larger (because “provinces” are the units of kingdoms) and in being deemed politically complete, even as dependencies in an empire. The “contract” of imperial protection in exchange for tribute, even if involuntary for the provinciae, does not render such a kingdom equivalent to a “province” of another kingdom. In the case of the British colonies in North America, these two different senses of province have been conflated, and the elastic historic usage of colony has only enabled the ambiguity.  I turn now to discuss the two terms in relation to the colonies, after which I turn to Althusius’ two variables to classify the colonies in general terms as provinciae rather than “provinces.”


The North America Colonies as Provinces

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word province was generally applied to the North American colonies of Great Britain.[vii] As of the early twenty-first century, the term is still being used in reference to the former colonies that are part of the Canadian federation.   Addressing people living in the United States, Freeman wrote, “(t)he word “provincial” was, with a near approach to accuracy, often applied to your Thirteen Colonies, while they were still dependencies of Great Britain.”[viii] A dependency is “a country or province subject to the control of another of which it does not form an integral part”[ix] Freeman points out that as dependencies, the colonies were under the jurisdiction of Great Britain without forming integral parts of it. This statement is still rather vague because colony has historically applied both to “province” dependencies akin to domestic principalities and to provinciae dependencies (i.e., dominions, or occupied kingdoms). 
The Roman colonies were garrisons or commercial enterprises to be ruled as provinces within the host kingdom.[x] This conception, which prevailed during the medieval period, is distinct from the Greek sense of a colony. The Greeks understood a state to be inherently small.  Hence when one reached a certain point in size, it would form, or colonize, another. In other words, “a new Greek colony brought the world a new Greek State.”[xi] Whereas Roman colonies were politically incomplete, and thus inferior to the kingdom-level, those of the Greeks were complete as states, and therefore commensurate to the kingdom-level.  The Greek colonies, in other words, could be provinciae, or dominion-members, of an empire.  The latter sense is a better fit with the British colonies being analyzed here.
In July, 1749, the governor of New York responded to the reticence of the Assembly to be taxed by Britain by likening the European powers’ colonies to those of the ancient Romans. Defending Britain’s treatment of its colonies, he noted that “(t)he Romans did not allow the same privileges to their colonies, which the other citizens enjoyed.”[xii] The “other citizens” would have included those of the Roman dominions, which the Romans distinguished from their colonies. He was therefore implying that the British colonies were so in the Roman sense of the word—meaning politically incomplete “provinces” rather than complete states on the kingdom-level.
Arnold, too, has the Roman sense in mind where he argues that “a wide difference” exists between a dominion and a colony. He asserts that whereas a British colony is held by the imperial government “in trust,” a dominion is “in absolute fee-simple.”[xiii] He goes on to define “fee-simple”: “We say that a man has an estate in fee simple in those lands with which he is himself free to deal unreservedly, and in order to establish free land, we must put all owners of land, as far as possible, into that position.”[xiv] In the case of dominions, the safeguarding of owners’ freedom over their land is on account of their land-claim existing before the occupation. Arnold points to India as a dominion of Great Britain, meaning that the British government held the land in trust while recognizing that the native people still had rights to the land because they had held the land prior to the British. Arnold argues that this did not apply to the North American colonies because the British regarded them as created ex nihilo. The British government recognized no residual stakeholder claims, such as by the Indians, the colonists, or their colonial assemblies. The land was claimed ultimately by the Crown as a right of first possession.
Arnold’s narrow property-rights argument falls short in that he does not consider the element of political completeness and the related matter of scale.  In other words, he does not consider that dominions are treated as occupied kingdoms.  In the case of the British colonies in North America, the “creation ex nihilo” element does not exclude the kingdom-elements of political completeness and scale. 
Most English jurists of the time considered the colonies in North America to be occupied countries (i.e., dominions). Blackstone’s famous Commentaries states that the North American colonies are “conquered or ceded countries” and therefore  that “the common law of England, as such, has no authority there; they being no part of the mother country, but distinct (though dependent) dominions.”[xv]  John Holt, Chief Justice of King’s Bench at the end of the seventeenth century, wrote “Virginia, being a conquered country, their law is what the king pleases.”[xvi] Indeed, the British Crown functioned throughout the empire as “the fountain of sovereignty.”[xvii] The king functions here in his imperial capacity (i.e., as an emperor) over political territories commensurate with his (host) kingdom because they are deemed politically complete (i.e., kingdom-level). It is an indication of the colonies’ dominion-status that those having a royal governor (i.e., highlighting the direct relationship to the Crown) generally though not universally, were known as provinces.[xviii] In other words, province here is in the Roman sense of provincia, or dominion, rather than their rendering of colony.  I support this point by applying Bancroft’s rendering of the colonies to Althusius’ variables of political development and scale. I argue that Bancroft treats the colonies as essentially occupied nation-states generally-speaking, even though a few of the smaller ones struggled on account of their principality, or “province,” scale to be reckoned as distinct and commensurate.
 
Seeds of States

As seeds of states, or even de facto states already, the British colonies in North America came far closer to political completeness than the Crown’s label of “plantations” could allow.  Even so, the complex nature of their actual and expected completeness complicates their classification as dominions. I turn first to the insufficiency of the commercial status of the proprietary companies, after which I discuss the developmental nature of the colonies as politically complete polities, or states.
Charles I esteemed Virginia precisely “as the country producing tobacco. … Its inhabitants were valued at court as planters, and prized according to the revenue derived from the staple of their industry.” [xix] It did not occur to the king that “there could be in an American province anything like established privileges or vigorous political life.”[xx] His principle was simply “to monopolize the profits of their industry,”[xxi] which he could apply just as well to a company operating in Britain. The problem with viewing the colonies from an exclusively economic standpoint, as if they were simply company plantations is that any political or public element is excluded. Whether by design or necessity, a colony that includes domiciled human beings inevitably involves at least some germinal political association. It follows that a company running a colony such as Massachusetts Bay or Virginia must needs involve governing the colony beyond applying a business calculus.
The question of a proprietary company’s nature, and, ultimately, the colony’s place relative to the host kingdom and the empire, were at issue in 1646 when the democratic resistance in Massachusetts Bay’s Calvinist theocracy appealed to the commissioners in Britain. Robert Childe of the resistance construed the company in a narrow, commercial sense, which implied that it, and therefore the colony as well, were subject to domestic law in England. “The charter,” he stated, “does but create a corporation within the realm, subject to English laws.”[xxii]  The colony is within the kingdom and thus subject to the British parliament. Differing from his view, the Massachusetts’ colonial government, seeking to protect its de facto liberties from Parliamentary usurpation, answered that “Plantations are above the rank of an ordinary corporation; they have been esteemed other than towns, yea, than many cities. Colonies are the foundations of great commonwealths.”[xxiii] As an incubator of a state, a “plantation” has a political function that places the company beyond the kingdom’s domestic realm because the state is not within the kingdom.  In line with the view of Massachusetts’ General Court, Bancroft asserts, “when the company in England consented in 1629 that “the government and patent should be settled in New England,…the commercial corporation became the germ of an independent commonwealth.”[xxiv] The colony was independent of the kingdom while it was still in the empire. Because the “charter plainly gave legislative power to the whole body of the freemen,…the trading corporation was unconsciously become a representative democracy.”[xxv] That is to say, the company was not simply a commercial enterprise, and it was not operating domestically. Rather, it was the governance structure of a provincia of the empire. It follows that the imperial Crown had a special superintending role to play— supreme legislative authority over the colonies being expressly reserved to the monarch.[xxvi] So the proprietary companies had a rather contingent existence between the imperium and the nescient commonwealth.
Throughout the seventeenth century, for instance, the Ancient Dominion went between proprietary and royal charters. In October, 1623, the king reverted the colony to its original royal charter. Demonstrating its inability to incorporate the political dimension of colonial rule, the proprietary corporation was inflexible. Not surprisingly, in June of the following year, judges appointed by the king ruled that the London Company’s patents were cancelled and the company was dissolved.[xxvii]  In 1684, the Crown was able to simply announce that Virginia was yet again a royal province.[xxviii] According to Bancroft, “The canceling of the Virginia patents had restored the monarch the ample authority of his prerogative over the soil.”[xxix]  The Crown’s unique authority over the governance of the colony was owing to the soil being beyond Britain.
 Even without the royal prerogative concerning provinciae, Childe’s sort of proprietary company would have been ill-equipped to found a commonwealth; the actual ventures were pushed by the people on the ground to go well beyond their cost-benefit calculations.  “A corporation, whether commercial or proprietary, is,” according to Bancroft, “perhaps, the worst of sovereigns. Gain is the object which leads to the formation of those companies, and which constitutes the interest most likely to be fostered.”[xxx] Especially where political responsibilities run up against the human instinct for liberty, a commercial mechanism is utterly feckless and impotent. Not surprisingly, none of the proprietary companies lasted through the American colonial period.
In short, the commercial plantation interpretation of the colonies as akin to domestic companies is dubious and ultimately unsustainable.  Admitting the existence of a political element is, however, only a first step to realizing the complexity of the colonies’ place in the British Empire.   Complicating the matter, the colonies were described on both sides of the Atlantic as embryo states and even occasionally as actual states or commonwealths, which implies political completeness, even if their actual settlements fell short in terms of infrastructure.  In general terms, an Aristotelian teleological approach best captures the ambiguity involved. The “already/not yet”—acorn is the tree—element is evident even in the initial aims of the colonial proprietaries. 
The desire to create a state or commonwealth was among the rationales in founding a colony in North America.  Regarding the founding of Quebec by the French, for example, Bancroft claims Champlain “aimed not at the profits of trade, but at the glory of founding a state,” and that, further south, Raleigh sought to “lay the foundation of states” in his huge expanse of territory known as Virginia.[xxxi] Upon being granted a charter by Charles II, William Penn wrote of his “country” that God might make it “the seed of a nation.”[xxxii]  Bancroft asserts that Roger Williams “chose to found a commonwealth” in Providence.[xxxiii] The extent of the land involved and the sheer distance from Britain provided fertile ground for such designs from daring imaginations with long purse-strings.
In a reply to a speech by Governor Hutchinson in which he asserted the impossibility of “two independent Legislatures in one and the same state,” the Massachusetts House of Representatives suggested it had been intended “that the colonies were, by their charters, made distinct states from the mother country”—the two legislative bodies making the two governments “as distinct as the kingdom of England and Scotland, before their union.”[xxxiv] The intention to create states distant from the host kingdom was to plant kingdoms in the empire: that is, dominions, or provinciae.
Upon consideration of the colonial charters and ‘the whole conduct of the crown and nation” toward the colonies until the Parliamentary usurpation from the restoration onward, Benjamin Franklin had the conviction, “that the Colonies originally were constituted distinct states, and intended to be continued such.”[xxxv] Bancroft refers to Rhode Island at its inception as a new state, as though it were already a fait accompli. [xxxvi] He adds that even by 1634, “a nation was already planted in New England; a commonwealth was matured.”[xxxvii] Rather than viewing subjects in the empire’s host kingdom as having sovereignty through their parliament over “their fellow subjects in another part of his dominions,” Franklin viewed the colonial assemblies and the king as the “true legislative authority” in the colonies.[xxxviii] The assemblies, in other words, were in his view comparable to the British Parliament. In a Boston newspaper in 1767, a writer made the point as follows: “Advancing the powers of the Parliament of England, by breaking the rights of the Parliaments of America, may in time have its effects.”[xxxix] 
In a debate in Lords on February 3, 1766 over the right of Britain to tax its North American colonies, Camden dwelt “particularly” on the case of Ireland, [xl] which implies an equivalence.  Making a similar comparison, Franklin wrote that the colonies “became distinct states, under the same prince, united as Ireland is to the crown, but not to the realm, of England, and governed each by its own laws, though with the same sovereign.”[xli]  Accordingly, in his plan for confederating the colonies considered in the second continental congress on July 22, 1775, Franklin specifies that Ireland may join the proposed Union as a member.[xlii]  The colonies were essentially kingdoms in the empire. They were thus equivalent to European kingdoms.
Were the colonists overreaching in their claims of being states in the empire, we would not expect to find any such claims from the British. However, there were such claims before the colonies declared themselves to be independent states. Northington, for example, said in Lords on February 3, 1766, that the Americans “have sent deputies to a meeting of their states, at New-York.”[xliii] Furthermore, the Earl of Buckinghamshire said in Lords on February 1, 1774 that Franklin was there “not as the Agent of a Province, but as an Ambassador from the States of America.”[xliv] 
The de facto independence that several of the colonies enjoyed for substantial periods contributed to the perception of political completeness in Britain. Burdett wrote from New England to Laud in 1637 against the Massachusetts government, stating that it “was not discipline that was no so much aimed at as sovereignty.”[xlv] Hillsborough warned to W. S. Johnson of Connecticut: “You are in danger of being too much a separate, independent State.”[xlvi] 
According to Bancroft, “contests in which…Charles became engaged, and the republican revolution that followed, left the colonists for the space of twenty years, nearly unmolested in the enjoyment of virtual independence.”[xlvii] Colonial documents wre written in an attempt to capture the experience. In 1641, for instance, the Massachusetts Bay colony adopted “the body of liberties” as a written constitution of government.   Bancroft asserts that the colony embraced “the freedom of the commonwealth, of municipalities, of persons, and of churches according to the principles of Independency.”[xlviii]  The terms “commonwealth,” “independence” and “state” tended to be thought of together. Bancroft likens New England to ancient Israel in terms of settling in a wilderness in virtual independence.[xlix] Meanwhile, Virginia “enjoyed liberties as large as the favored New England.” [l] The Virginians displayed “an equal degree of fondness for popular sovereignty, and fearlessly exercised political independence.”[li] In particular, war was levied, and peace concluded, and territory acquired, all “in conformity to the acts of the representatives of the people…and, practically, all the rights of an independent state, having England for its guardian against foreign oppression, rather than its ruler.”[lii] Of the central provinces, Pennsylvania approached most nearly towards establishing independent power.[liii] Even so, in exchange for imperial protection, these colonies were not de jure independent; as dominions, or provinciae, they were dependencies with respect to the empire even if they could have operated with political completeness. Their de facto independence was significant, however, and served in fact as a precedent of sorts for the establishment of aspiring republics claiming independence in the western expanse of Virginia and North Carolina. The implication was that the colonies had been formed in a Hobbesian state of nature.
In May, 1775, for instance, seventeen representatives met in what is today Kentucky from “a right as a political body…to frame rules for the government of [their] little society,” which they called Transylvania. Describing it as an “infant country,” Bancroft stresses its presumption of independence.[liv] In 1768, W. S. Johnson referred to Connecticut as an infant country.[lv] All of the colonies were infant countries. The span of their growth not only politically, but also in terms of population and settled area, complicates there being a definitive snap-shot of the colonies as states before July 2, 1776. 
On March 22, 1775, Edmund Burke gave his speech on conciliation with America. Stressing the implications for British governance of the colonies, he stressed their rapid growth in population as spreading from “families to communities, and from villages to nations.”[lvi]  Even though the British could point back to the communities qua plantations of a sort, the colonies’ population growth became difficult for them to ignore, and it was generally known to intimate eventual independence. Northington said in Lords on February 3, 1766, that “the colonies [have] become too big to be governed by the law they at first set out with. They have, therefore, run into confusion…”[lvii]  William Murray, Earl of Mansfield, answered with the supposition that the “offspring” had become “too grown and too resolute to obey the parent.”[lviii] Turgot remarked that the colonies were like fruit, “When they are ripe they will drop from the stem.”[lix]  Given the statehood implicit in their de facto independence, the colonies were ripe well before they severed themselves from the imperial stem of the mother country.
Bancroft writes that the “infant republics resembled living plants,” which “without effort or consciousness of will unfold simultaneously their whole existence and the rudiments of all their parts, harmonious, beautiful and complete in every period of their growth.”[lx] An Aristotelian element can be gleemed here in the acorn being the tree.
“In civil affairs, as much as in husbandry,” Bancroft continues, “seed-time goes before the harvest, and the harvest may be seen in the seed, the seed in the harvest.”[lxi] He cites Lord Bolingbroke, who in his Idea of a Patriot King translates from Bacon’s de Augmentis Scientiarum: “Nature throws out altogether and at once the whole system of every being, and the rudiments of all the parts.”[lxii]  In the case of the infant countries, they were already the tree not only in terms of political completeness, but also in terms of formal territory, which in most cases was commensurate with the sizes of the European countries at the time. In other words, the colonies were provinciae in the sense of being dominions recognized as akin to occupied kingdoms with respect not only to their political completeness as de facto states, but also to their formal size.


Colonial Scale in North America

With respect to scale as well, Althusius’ theory is useful. In addition to being distinguished by political completeness, Althusius’ kingdom-level provincia differs from the “province” member of a kingdom by a leap in scale because one is a unit in the other. This is not to say that a certain amount of land has always counted as sufficient for either one; calibrations have shifted over time.  In an given epoch, a territorial threshold scale exists that is normative (in the West) as sufficient for a polity to be deemed a politically complete kingdom, and thus as legitimately an actual or potential provincia of an empire. Because the vast majority of their North American colonies were designed on par with (or exceeding) the European kingdoms of the day scalewise, the colonies could claim to have satisfied the scale litmus-test for being reckoned as provinciae. The British may have designed their colonies territorially with a normative standard in mind for what would count as sufficient for constituting a provincia in its empire.
Such a standard could have been a factor in the British decision to make the separate East and West New Jerseys provinces of New York and finally to reunite the two divisions back into New Jersey. Separately, the two divisions may have been viewed as too small territorially to be members of the empire.  The commission to Bernard, a royal governor, states in part: “The Division of East and West New Jersey in America, which we have thought fit to reunite into one Province and settle under one entire Government…”[lxiii]  Here divisions—a word suggestive of being partial—is contrasted with “one entire government.” Similarly, a minimum threshold may have been involved in the British acceptance of the New England confederacy on account of the small territories of Province, Rhode Island, New Hampshire and Maine. 
I submit that the threshold for provinciae corresponds to the extant default scale for kingdoms, or European nation-states more generally because dominions are traditionally occupied kingdoms. At the very least, the British would have viewed their Provinciae as needing to be of sufficient size to defend themselves against Indian attack.  Even if such a scale was bound to increase the likelihood that the colonies would eventually separate from the empire, pride in there being a requisite threshold for membership in the empire could outweigh concerns of future resistance. To be sure, the matter of the North American colonies’ provincia scale suffers from complications.
In most cases, the colonies’ extent of formal territory dwarfed their settled areas, and the growth in population makes this qualification a moving target.  However, if the harvest was in the seeds, and the harvest was indeed expected, the design can be taken as decisive in terms of commensurability with European countries of the day.  As a caveat, a few of the colonies were formed out of larger ones and were commensurate in their respective territories with European principalities, even as those colonies—unlike their European counterparts—were politically complete by virtue of experiencing de facto independence and building the related governmental machinery.  Just as a few independent duchies were extant in Europe at the time,  not all of the republics in British North America were comparable to the early-modern kingdoms.
Prima facie, individual proprietors such as William Penn, Roger Williams, and Lord Baltimore, who were granted colonial charters as though fiefdoms, resembled dukes in Britain in that the Crown gave the proprietors title to substantial land that they were to rule in his stead. Suggestive of such a likeness, the original Pennsylvania charter states: “We do hereby erect the aforesaid Country and Islands into a Province and Seigniore, and doe call itt Pensilvania.”[lxiv]  “Seigniore” in particular points to the proprietor’s place as a feudal lord of sorts, as though in the hierarchy of rulers within a kingdom. Indeed, having a settled area of six counties prior to the separation of Delaware (and three immediately afterward) likens Pennsylvania as actually inhabited at the time to the scale of a duchy (or to a medieval kingdom).  In terms of its formal extent of territory, however, Pennsylvania was at the time on the scale of the early-modern European kingdoms.
In 1635, for example, some of Virginia’s territory was given to Lord Baltimore, “his heirs and assigns, as to its absolute lord and propriety, to be holden by the tenure of fealty only.”[lxv] The feudal nature of “fealty” likened Maryland to a European principality, or “province.” In fact, the colony initially consisted of a number of feudal manors.  According to Bancroft, the colony “possessed no considerable village; its inhabitants were scattered among the woods,” each plantation being “a little world within itself.”[lxvi] Even though Virginia did so as well at the time, it had an extent of de jure territory far outstripping those of the consolidated kingdoms in Europe. In utter contrast, Maryland’s territory had been but a part of Virginia (i.e., comparable to a kingdom’s sub-unit) and had boundaries commensurate with a domestic duchy in Britain. The British could legitimately treat Maryland as being on par with one of its domestic principalities in terms of its origins and related scale.
Even so, the colony developed a degree of political completeness not enjoyed by principalities of a kingdom. According to Bancroft, the first assembly of Maryland had “vindicated the jurisdiction of the colony;” the second had asserted its claims to original legislation; and the third framed a declaration of rights.[lxvii] Maryland would stress its equivalency with the other colonies in terms of its political completeness—even holding up the Articles of Confederation after formal independence in order to ensure its place in the new order. 
Delaware, too, was a colony that had broken off from a larger one and whose territory was commensurate with a duchy at the time.  The colony had been just three of the six settled counties in Pennsylvania before it broke off in 1691. Unlike Maryland, Delaware had a tradition of political incompleteness that complemented its “province” scale. In separating from Pennsylvania, Delaware had its own legislature and tribunals, but only subordinate executive offices before finally getting a governor. This points to the colony’s initial association with political insufficiency or adjunctcy. Going even further back, Bancroft maintains that Delaware’s separate existence is owed to its having been a proprietary in New Netherland, as though the colony were one of the lordships in the Netherlands.[lxviii] Both in terms of its formal territory and beginnings, Delaware bears likenesses to a duchy rather than an early-modern kingdom. In general terms, the colony had questionable legitimacy with respect to scale as a provincia of the British Empire. Moderating this conclusion, however, Delaware constituted a separate government from an act of its own citizens.[lxix] Bancroft refers to Delaware colony as a commonwealth that begin an independent existence.[lxx]  It would thus assert its political equality with the larger colonies, even though it was incommensurate with them in its beginnings and size. In respect to both Maryland and Delaware, the territorial extent did not far outstrip the early settlements, hence both colonies fell short of the provincia-scale threshold.  These colonies were not the only two to fall short, though the others to the north were of such proximity to each other and to Massachusetts Bay that the problem of those anomalies was handled differently—namely, by being incorporated by kingdom-level provinciae or forming an alliance with one. 


New England

With respect to colonial New England, the stories of the colonies of Rhode Island, Maine and New Hampshire demonstrate that a duchy- or county-scale colony is tenuous as a provincia among others in an empire.  Roger William’s Providence colony, begun in 1638 as bastion of religious tolerance, is another such case. His colony is particularly noteworthy for its extent of political completeness relative to all of the other North American colonies excepting Connecticut, the other “little republic.” Whereas few city-states had by then remained independent in Europe, Providence was a virtual city-state in North America. According to Bancroft, Williams “chose to found a commonwealth in the unmixed forms of pure democracy…”[lxxi] It had a constitution specifying a democracy, or popular government, and “a free and absolute charter of civil government for those parts of his abode” on the Narragansett Bay, incorporated “’with full power and authority to rule themselves.’”[lxxii] In spite of its scale, its de facto independence was due to William’s popularity with British politicians. In fact, he could count on imperial protection against the encroachments of larger nearby colonies that considered Providence (and then its merger with Rhode Island) as at the “province,” or principality, scale, regardless of its democratic political completeness. In other words, the colony was vulnerable precisely because a threshold notion was operative for kingdom, and thus provincia, status. For the same reason, so too were the colonies of New Hampshire and Maine. Both were initially formed significantly smaller than they would become as United States. Their formal territories were commensurate with domestic British principalities—perhaps even as small as a large county such as Cornwall. 
The 1622 patent establishing Maine between the Merrimack and Kennebec rivers was granted to Ferdinando Gorges and John Mason by the Plymouth Council for New England, which had been granted a royal patent by James I for the huge expanse of land between the 40th and 48th parallels and extending de jure to the Pacific. That earlier settlements had failed on account of the harsh winter may have been behind the decision to delimit the territory. The province of Maine was itself split in 1629 at the Piscataqua river, with the province of New Hampshire forming the small southern part and New Somersetshire forming the northern portion. This process could perhaps be likened in European terms at the time to a duchy being split into a large and small county.  Likely sensing the vulnerability in their small size not only in terms of defending against Indian attack, but also in being incorporated by a larger colony, the colonists in New Hampshire voluntarily decided in 1642 to be annexed to Massachusetts Bay colony “not as a province, but on equal terms, as an integral portion of the state.”[lxxiii] This stated preference demonstrates that the colonists saw their colony in the Greek sense re-calibrated to the scale of the early-modern kingdoms of the day. 
Maine, too, was vulnerable on account of its size. In 1664, Charles II granted what had been the colony of Maine and the Territory of Sagadahoch (i.e., the eastern portion of the state of Maine) to James, Duke of York, to be incorporated into Cornwall County in the colony of New York.  Not even a full county, Maine was hardly commensurate with the early-modern European kingdoms, hence its status as a provincia of the empire was inherently weak.
In 1677, a committee of the privy council denied to Massachusetts the right of jurisdiction over Maine and New Hampshire.   Massachusetts got around this obstacle by purchasing the proprietary claim of Gorges of the district between the Kennebeck and the Piscataqua. According to Bancroft, “a novel form of political institution ensued. Massachusetts, in her corporate capacity, was become the lord proprietary of Maine; the little republic on the banks of the Charles was the feudal sovereign of this eastern lordship.”[lxxiv]  If Massachusetts Bay was at the time a “little republic” whose own extent of settled area fell short of the kingdom/provincia threshold of the day, Maine (as it was then) fell far short. Indeed, the Roman sense of colony was implicitly applied when in 1680 Maine was to be governed as a province, according to the charter to Gorges, whereas it had been represented in the Massachusetts house of representatives.[lxxv] Two years later, New Hampshire was separated from Massachusetts, and organized as a royal province. 
Even if it was in the interest of the British that the power of Massachusetts Bay be checked by limiting its acquired “provinces,” New Hampshire’s status as a member of the empire was not secure. Less than a century later, in 1764, the king in council gave  the country north of Massachusetts and west of Connecticut river to New York. Bancroft points to the king’s explicit rationale based on his assumption of superior loyalty in New York.[lxxvi] I submit additionally the contribution of the implicit reckoning that New Hampshire’s small extent of territory did not satisfy the normative threshold for the kingdom/provincia scale of the time.
In contrast, even if Massachusetts Bay’s extent of settlements made it a “little republic,” its formal territory was at the very least commensurate with the European early-modern kingdoms, hence qualifying it as a provincia. Even by 1670, the colony was large enough territorially to have a “widely-extended trade” within its borders.[lxxvii] By the end of 1691, the colony had incorporated not only Maine, but New Plymouth, Nantucket, Martha’s Vineyard and Nova Scotia as well.[lxxviii] Massachusetts Bay could solidify its provincia legitimacy while taking care of several of the free-standing “province” anomalies. When Bernard, Governor of Massachusetts Bay, planned in 1764 to dissolve Rhode Island, Connecticut and New Hampshire were to be dissolved under  the plan of Bernard, Governor of Mass, in 1764, he noted that the plan would afford Massachusetts “a more perfect form of government for a mature American province.” [lxxix] By “more perfect,” he meant placing the king’s authority “upon a rock.” [lxxx]  However, the added reference to it being a “mature American province” could point to it satisfying the threshold of a full-fledged provincia of the empire.
The picture of a kingdom-scale republic incorporating “provinces” in its vicinity is complicated by the Connecticut colony, which was in some respects commensurate with European kingdoms scalewise, while in others equivalent to a duchy. The colony’s status as a provincial was therefore not stable.
On the one hand, Connecticut was like Massachusetts in that both extended westward theoretically to the Pacific. Bancroft likens the two colonies in that “Massachusetts did not relinquish its right to an indefinite extension of its territory to the west; Connecticut, by its charter, extended to the Pacific.”[lxxxi] He maintains that Connecticut kept this particularly in mind by settling in the Wyoming Valley and more generally having learned how to claim lands to the Mississippi.[lxxxii] In having an expanse of land beyond its New England territory and in competing with Pennsylvania in “empire building” by establishing a province, Connecticut could be grouped among the larger colonies as a mature provincia. 
On the other hand, Connecticut’s territory in New England was significantly less than that of Massachusetts Bay. Therefore, Connecticut was not consistently treated as a full provincia even after the New Haven and Connecticut colonies had merged in 1662.  In fact, New Haven and the Connecticut river colonies had begun as de facto “provinces” of Plymouth colony, as their original proprietary grants came from the council for New England after Calvinist settlers from New Plymouth had settled in the two locales.[lxxxiii] Even after the merger, the Connecticut militia was claimed for a time by the governor of Mass, after which it was claimed as a royal prerogative and conferred on the governor of New York. The Connecticut legislature resisted on the basis that it would be to put “our persons, interests and liberties entirely into his power.” [lxxxiv] In effect, the colony met the threshold to be a distinct provincia in the empire. The king agreed, ruling in 1694 that the ordinary power of the militia in Connecticut and in Rhode Island belonged to their respective governments. His answer indicates, however, that even as he resisted placing Connecticut as a de facto “province” of New York, he was viewing Connecticut in equivalent terms to Rhode Island, which was on the “providence” scale.  In recommending in February, 1773 that the Charters of Rhode Island and Connecticut be taken away so the “twins” could be “consolidated” in “one royal Government,” [lxxxv] Horsmanden was saying, in effect, that neither of the colonies met the threshold for the kingdom/provincia scale, whereas their consolidation would.   Bancroft portrays Connecticut and Rhode Island in similar terms, claiming that “the little republics…their charters were never safe; absolute sovereignty being claimed in England, their freedom rested on forbearance.”[lxxxvi] That Connecticut’s western expanse could only promise potential settlements meant that the colony’s territory in New England could be decisive in terms of how its scale was generally categorized.
In general terms, Connecticut fit in some respects with being a large duchy between Massachusetts and New York, and in others with being a mature provincia competing with others. Connecticut’s ambiguous classification as a “little republic” with westward territory satisfying the provincia scale of the time can help explain the tendency of the British and New Englanders alike to view New England as though it were the colony.  So too can problematic duchy (or county) “province” scale of the Rhode Island, Maine and New Hampshire colonies. In other words, viewing New England as the natural provincia had the advantage of ridding the empire of the anomalies of three or four “province”-scaled members. In short, the informal construction of New England may have been due to a normative kingdom/provincia scale.
Ignoring the western expanses of Connecticut and Massachusetts Bay, New England can perhaps be compared to any of the German polities (less Austria) that included the medieval kingdom of Prussia and several German duchies. Bancroft refers to Massachusetts as “the mother land” and the other New England colonies as “four New England states” in discussing their condition in early 1776.[lxxxvii]  Even though Massachusetts could stand on its own without respect to a broader reference to New England, the other New England colonies were sometimes portrayed as provinces of New England as though principalities in a kingdom. For example, a British appointment to a New Hampshire office ran: “We have constituted and appointed Samuel Shute, Esq. our Captain General and Governor in chief in and over our Province of New Hampshire, in New England, in America.”[lxxxviii] New Hampshire is as though a duchy, while New England is situated here as equivalent to a kingdom-level country on a continent.  Maine, with its very small initial territory, was also viewed as a province of New England.   Grant, for example, states: “All that part of ye maine land in New England…which the said Sr. Ferdinando Gorges and Capt. John Mason…intend to name ye Province of Maine.”[lxxxix] 
Similar to the Germans who confederated to accommodate both a medieval kingdom and “province” level duchies, the New Englanders formed a confederation that included Massachusetts and the other Calvinist New England “provinces.”  The United Colonies of New England, which began in 1643, was designed with the government of the Netherlands in mind.[xc] The Germans and the Dutch, as well as the Swiss, confederated medieval polities into polities that were on the scale of the early-modern kingdoms. The extent of settled land and the principality-likeness of some of the New England colonies liken colonial New England to those European confederations in transition to being early-modern nations.
Like the members of the medieval European confederations, Massachusetts Bay, Plymouth, Connecticut and New Haven retained their separate governments, and thus reserved their respective domestic jurisdictions.  Even though Massachusetts’ veto of a veto for each state deviated from international principles, the fact that any state could fail to implement a decision of the confederation meant that none of the respective governments had ceded any real power.  Also, the fact that “the larger state,…superior to all the rest in territory, wealth and population, had no greater number of votes than New Haven”[xci] means that international principles were being followed.  That Samuel Adams and Ben Franklin viewed a new confederation of New England as an acceptable substitute for the Articles of Confederation in January, 1776 suggests that the earlier confederation was viewed as an alliance.[xcii]
However, three of the four members of the New England confederation fell short of the kingdom-scale of the day; they were therefore not sufficient in scale to be reckoned full members of an international alliance. The New England Confederation offered Province and Rhode Island only a qualified sort of membership as a part of the jurisdiction of Plymouth. [xciii]  Even though the Calvinist members were determined that all the members be Calvinist polities, that they viewed Providence and Rhode Island as potentially parts in another jurisdiction suggests that those two “states” fell short of the requisite provincia scale. It is difficult, therefore, to reckon Connecticut, Plymouth and New Haven as having met the threshold either.  Accordingly, New England was thought of not only as an alliance, but as a country, or nation, as well—and in terms commensurate with the other provinciae-scale colonies.
Bancroft refers to New England as both “a nation” and “a commonwealth.”[xciv] He states that in the war with the Indians [1675-8], the “defense of New England had been made by its own resources.”[xcv] He writes of “the New England army” that became a continental army under Washington.[xcvi] However, he also notes that “the New England colonies had from their beginning been defended by their own militia.”[xcvii] So when Rhode Island, New Hampshire, and Connecticut came to the support of Massachusetts in April, 1775, “the men from other colonies…appeared as independent corps from their respective provinces under leaders of their own.”[xcviii]  To be an army rather than an alliance, common military leaders would be necessary. 
The likeness of New England to a country or nation involved its having a distinctive and shared culture. For example, that all of the colonies in New England had the same structure as aggregates of organized democracies[xcix] points to a political culture that distinguishes New England as an entity even though it had no government of its own. Furthermore, the salience of the Calvinist theocracy in the seventeenth century (except for Rhode Island) gave New Englanders a sense of distinctiveness.  Cotton Mather, for example, referred to New England as “a country whose interests are remarkably inwrapped in ecclesiastical circumstances, ministers ought to concern themselves in politics.”[c] In the eighteenth century, New England had a sort of national coherence in the New Englanders’ resistance to British rule. In Feb, 1775, Franklin sent advice to Massachusetts, writing that “New England alone can hold out for ages” against the British.[ci] Lastly, New England was referred to as though it were commensurate with the other colonies. In the first continental congress, Patrick Henry implied that New England was equivalent to the “other” large colonies by including “New Englanders” along with  “Virginians, Pennsylvanians, and New Yorkers” in paradoxically making the point that no such identifications existed.[cii]
In conclusion, the growth of the colonies’ settlements within various extents of formal territory and the development of the colonies’ capacity for (and experience of) self-governance—in some cases there from the beginning—make it difficult to situate them.   I have argued that the colonies were normatively geared both politically and territorially to the early-modern European kingdom-level. They were therefore provinciae, or dominions in the empire, rather than “providences” akin to principalities.  In other words, they were colonies in the Greek sense, re-calibrated upwards in size to reflect the early-modern default for the politically-complete kingdom level.

Notes




[i] C. J. Friedrich, ed. Politica Methodice Digesta of Johannes Althusius (Althaus) (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1932); F. S. Carney, The Politics of Johannes Althusius (Boston: Beacon Press, 1964).
[ii] G. Bancroft, History of the United States (Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1866-), ten volumes.
[iii]B. J. Lossing, Our Country: A Household History of the United States (New York, Amies Publishing Co., 1888), II (bk IV) 1033.
[iv] Carney, Politics, 61.
[v] See Friedrich, Politica,Caput XVII. 
[vi] Bancroft, IV, 7.
[vii] Oxford English Dictionary (OED), 2nd edition, (Oxford: Clarenden Press,1989), XII, 715ff.
[viii] E. A. Freeman, Lecture to American Audiences (Philadelphia: Porter & Coates, 1882), II, iv, p. 320. 
[ix] OED, IV, p. 475.
[x] J. A. Woodburn, Causes of the American Revolution (Baltimore, The John Hopkins Press, 1892), 12-13.
[xi] Woodburn, 13.
[xii] Bancroft, IV, 53.
[xiii]R. A. Arnold, The History and the Cotton Famine (London, Saunders, Otley & Co.,1864, 464).
[xiv] R. A. Arnold, Free Land (London, C. Kegan Paul & Co.,1880, 185-6).
[xv] W. Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England (Oxford, John Hatchard & Son, 1822), I, 105-6.
[xvi] English Reports (London, Stevens & Sons, 1900-1932), XCI, 566-67.
[xvii] Bancroft, III, 48.
[xviii] OED, XII, 715ff
[xix] Bancroft, I, 194.
[xx] Bancroft, I, 194.
[xxi] Bancroft, I, 195.
[xxii] Bancroft, I, 441.
[xxiii] Bancroft, I, 441.
[xxiv] Bancroft, I, 352.
[xxv] Bancroft, I,  366-7.
[xxvi] Bancroft, I, 121.
[xxvii] Bancroft, I, 192-3. 
[xxviii] Bancroft, II, 249.
[xxix] Bancroft, I, 241.
[xxx] Bancroft, I, 185.
[xxxi] Bancroft, I, 28, 89.
[xxxii] To Robert Turner, January 5, 1681., in S. M. Janney, The Life of William Penn (Philadelphia, Lippincott, Grambo, & Co., 1853),  166.
[xxxiii] Bancroft, I, 380.
[xxxiv] S. J. Hammond and K. R. Hardwick, Classics of American Political and Constitutional Thought (Indianapolis, Hackett, 2007), I, 243
[xxxv] Benjamin Franklin to Samuel Cooper, London, June 8, 1770, in Franklin, The Works of Benjamin Franklin (Chicago, Townsen Mac Coun), vii, p. 476.
[xxxvi] Bancroft, I, 426.
[xxxvii] Bancroft, I, 407.
[xxxviii]Franklin, Works, vii, p. 476-7.
[xxxix] The Boston Gazette, and Country Journal (Boston, Benjamin Edes, August 24, 1767), italics added. 
[xl] Bancroft, V, 404
[xli] Franklin, Works, iv, 408, italics added.
[xlii] Article XIII, in W. C. Ford et al, Journals of the Continental Congress, 1774-1789 (Washington, D.C., US Government Printing Office, 1904-1937), II.
[xliii] Bancroft V, 404-5, italics added; see also VI, 500.
[xliv]I. Mauduit, ed., et al, Franklin Before the Privy Council, White Hall Chapel, London, 1774 (Philadelphia, John M. Butler, 1860) , 12, italics added.
[xlv]R. M. Sawyer, “Agamenticus, Georgiana, or York, Maine, The Congretational Quarterly, VIII, No. 2, 143, note 3.
[xlvi] I. W. Stuart, Life of Jonathan Trumbull, Sen., Governor of Connecticut (Boston, Crocker & Brewster, 1859), 99
[xlvii] Bancroft, I, 415.
[xlviii] Bancroft, I, 417-18, italics added.
[xlix] Bancroft, III 73.
[l] Bancroft, I, 224. See also 232.
[li] Bancroft, I, 224. See also 232.
[lii] Bancroft, I 209-10, italics added.
[liii] Bancroft, IV, 253.
[liv] Bancroft, VII, 368, 36.
[lv] W. S. Johnson to W. Pitkin, Feb 13, 1768; Bancock, VI, 115.
[lvi] E. Burke, The Speech of Edmund Burke, Esq.; On Moving His Resolutions for Conciliation with the Colonies, March 22, 1775 (London, J. Dodsley, 1775), 8, italics added.
[lvii] Bancroft, V, 404-5.
[lviii]M.M. Miller, ed., Great Debates in American History (New York, Current Literature Publishing Co., 1913), I, 66.
[lix] J. A. Woodburn, Causes of the American Revolution (Baltimore, The John Hopkins Press, 1892), 12.
[lx] Bancroft, IV, 55.
[lxi] Bancroft, IX, 436.
[lxii]  V. H. Bolingbroke, The Idea of a Patriot King (London, 1740), 34. See Bancroft, IV, 55.
[lxiii] Commission to Francis Bernard as Governor of New Jersey, 1758, in A. Johnson, ed., Readings in American Constitutional History, 1776-1876 (New York, Houghton Mifflin Co., 1912),18
[lxiv] Charter (March 4, 1682), Charles II to William Penn, in B. P. Poore, The Federal and State Constitutions, Colonial Charters, and Other Organic Laws of the United States (Washington, D.C.: US Government Printing Office, 1878), II, 1510.
[lxv] Bancroft, X, 242.
[lxvi] Bancroft, II, 235.
[lxvii] Bancroft, X, 250-1.
[lxviii] Bancroft, II, 280, 282.
[lxix] Bancroft, III, 35.
[lxx] Bancroft, III, 44.
[lxxi] Bancroft, I, 380.
[lxxii] Bancroft, I 425.
[lxxiii] Bancroft, I, 418.
[lxxiv] Bancroft, II, 114.
[lxxv] Bancroft, II, 114.
[lxxvi] Bancroft, V 215.
[lxxvii] Bancroft, II 91.
[lxxviii] Bancroft, III, 81.
[lxxix] T. W. Bicknell, The History of the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations (New York, The American Historical Society, 1920),  II, 723. See also Bernard to Halifax, Nov 8, 1764, in Bancroft, V, 225.
[lxxx] Bernard to Halifax, Nov 8, 1764, in Bancroft, V, 225.
[lxxxi] Bancroft, II, 310.
[lxxxii] Bancroft, VI, 506.
[lxxxiii] Bancroft, I, 402
[lxxxiv] Bancroft, III, 67.
[lxxxv] Chief Justice Horsmanden of New-York, to Lord Dartmouth, Feb 20, 1773. Bancroft, VI, 451-2.
[lxxxvi] Bancroft, III, 69.
[lxxxvii] Bancroft, VIII, 305.
[lxxxviii] Commission to J. Wentworth, 1717, in E. B. Greene, The Provincial Governor in the English Colonies of North America (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1898), 264.
[lxxxix] Grant 1622 (Aug 10), in J. W. Dean and C. W. Tuttle, Capt. John Mason, The Founder of New Hampshire (Boston, Prince Society, 1887), 180. 
[xc] Bancroft, I, 420. 
[xci] Bancroft, I, 422.
[xcii] Bancroft, VIII, 243.
[xciii] Mass. MS. State Papers, Case I, File I, No. 17.
[xciv] Bancroft, I, 415.
[xcv] Bancroft, II, 111, italics added.
[xcvi] Bancroft, VII, 389.
[xcvii] Bancroft, VIII, 316.
[xcviii] Bancroft, VII, 322.
[xcix] Bancroft, IV, 149.
[c] Bancroft, III, 74.
[ci] A. H. Smyth, ed., The Writings of Benjamin Franklin (New York, Macmillan, 1907), X, 273.
[cii]H. B. Carrington, Battles of the American Revolution, 1775-1781 (New York, A. S. Barnes, 1876), 85. See also Bancroft, IX, 418.