Who Was George Washington?

This rather lengthy blog was co-authored with my father, Dr. Peter R. Henriques, a Professor Emeritus of History at George Mason University who has written several books and given hundreds of talks on the life and character of George Washington. Several years ago we co-authored a chapter on the man viewed through the lens of the unified approach and intended to include it in my father’s book, Realistic Visionary. However, the editor and reviewers found it to be misplaced. We always thought it an interesting piece and a good example of crossing history with psychology, and so we decided to share it here, on what would be GW’s 283rd Birthday. The original chapter was quite lengthy and introduced both the Influence Matrix and the Justification Hypothesis and examined his life via those lenses. Here we have shortened it quite a bit (although still a bit long for a blog) and largely removed the background on these concepts and instead have focused mostly on the relational drives that shaped his character. Also, because this is a blog, we have greatly reduced the references, but they are available on request.

The Influence Matrix is an integrative model of social motivation and emotion (see diagram below and here for more information) that we believe can be helpful in understanding the relational motives that drove George Washington. Since he was one of the most influential leaders in history, an interesting prediction arises from the Matrix. Specifically, one would expect that themes about power, love and freedom should be very prominent in his character, and he should have a strong sense of each of these three motives (the blue, red and green lines, respectively). Furthermore, the Matrix suggests that the conflicts he experienced within himself and with others can be well understood in terms of the tensions between these various dimensions and his desire to reconcile these potentially conflicting drives. Indeed, in analyzing GW’s life history, this appears to be the case. In fact, one can see his remarkable life as reflecting the triumphant navigation of power, love, and freedom.

In regards to his general needs for relational value (the black line), even a cursory examination reveals that Washington was intensely driven to maximize his social influence. As one author put it, “Throughout his life, the ambition for distinction spun inside George Washington like a dynamo, generating the astounding energy with which he produced his greatest historical achievement – himself.” To help understand where this incredible drive came from, it is useful to analyze Washington’s basic character structure in terms of temperaments (or traits), abilities, and dynamic motivational sets, all of which existed and emerged in a particular developmental context.

Temperaments refer to the foundations of personality and are the basic dispositional tendencies an individual demonstrates in interacting with his environment. The two most prominent traits identified by personality psychologists are extraversion and neuroticism. Extraversion refers to the degree to which an individual is energetic, driven, outgoing, focuses on approaching goals and tends toward positive emotions (Extraversion maps onto the upper right hand quadrant on the Matrix). In contrast, neuroticism is the degree to which an individual is concerned about risk, focuses on avoiding bad outcomes, is defensive and pessimistic, and tends toward negative emotions (Neuroticism maps onto the lower left hand quadrant). In extraversion, the emphasis is on acquisition whereas in neuroticism the focus is on the avoidance of loss. When one surveys Washington’s behaviors and attitudes across his lifespan, his energy and ambition, his drive for accomplishment, and his willingness to take risks in the face of grave danger are striking, and the strong conclusion is that the General was, in terms of basic temperament, high on extraversion and low on neuroticism.

In many ways, the most interesting (and often most difficult) aspect of analyzing an individual’s character structure is attempting to understand the dynamic set of motivational forces that impel an individual toward particular goals. The task in this instance is made that much more difficult because limited information exists regarding Washington’s early childhood, which would be needed to understand how his life experiences shaped this element of his character. However, while much of GW’s childhood will forever remain shrouded in mystery and uncertainty, there are a few salient facts. The Washington family was second tier gentry, and young GW’s prospects for advancing to the top tier suffered a severe blow when his father died in 1743. Washington was eleven at the time but remembered it later as occurring when he was “only ten,” which possibly suggests GW felt deserted by his father even before his death. George Washington’s relationship with his mother, Mary Ball Washington, remains controversial, but it is hard to read her surviving letters from the 1750s and picture her as anything but demanding and self-absorbed, much more concerned with her own problems than those facing her eldest son. It seems highly likely that such attributes in her were present when GW was a youth.

The Matrix helps to organize these factors in a manner that allows for educated guesses about how the combination of factors might have influenced the young GW’s motivational set. At the very least, it seems that the interaction of his needy, controlling mother, the lack of a father, his high extraverted/low neurotic disposition, his strong drive for advancement, and his recognition that others had it better than he did was a recipe for significant feelings of frustration as an adolescent. Custis’s account of young Washington racing a high-spirited horse until it dropped dead has the ring of truth do it. So does the wish expressed by Thomas 6th Lord Fairfax that young George gain better control over his temper.

Many psychological theories suggest that strong needs for power and excessive self-control reflect a compensation for an underlying fear or insecurity. And it seems plausible that this dynamic was operating to some degree in Washington. Indeed, one psychological study went as far as to posit that, “Unheeded by his father, unloved by his mother, ever painfully sensitive to his lack of education, socially awkward and inarticulate, frustrated in love, George Washington compensated by seeking glory in war and politics and social and economic distinction in the obsessive acquisition of land.” Although this analysis is simplistic and extreme, it is likely that at least some of GW’s strong need for self-reliance and intense ambition derived from an attempt to compensate for an early childhood that did not fully meet his needs for love and attention.

Luckily for GW, if he faced frustration at his home at Ferry Farm, he found both a refuge and inspiration in his relationship with his half-brother Lawrence and the powerful Fairfax family. They were not only role models but patrons as well, and GW did all he could to shape himself to the pattern prescribed by his society that was so well reflected in life at Belvoir. His connections at Belvoir, his natural abilities, especially in math, and his mastery of surveying at a young age presented him with an avenue for achievement and success. Without such an avenue, it seems highly likely GW would have experienced a conflict-ridden, frustrated life. However, with it he was able to chart his life course on a path that would ultimately culminate in the internalization of the highest standards of honor, integrity, and duty.

Washington’s ambition, coupled with his basic disposition were a risky combination, especially under the dangerous circumstances he faced in conducting military operations that were opposed by a significant portion of the population. As he confessed to Governor Dinwiddie, “In all things I meet with the greatest opposition,” but the young Colonel insisted he would carry out his instruction in “his Majestys Service” unless his opponents “execute what they threaten, i,e, ‘to blow out my brains.’” This fearless approach and desire for glory sometimes led to reckless ventures that minimized or failed to take into consideration genuine risk. Washington put himself in harm’s way time and time again, and his survival in these ventures was perhaps more a consequence of good fortune than of good judgment. But survive he did and with the credentials that would ultimately give him his chance for great glory and fame.

Washington’s power motives remained salient during the years between 1759 and 1775 as he worked tirelessly towards achieving success and rising to the top of the social ladder as the complete Virginia gentleman, in which success entailed being as independent and in as much control of his environment as possible. That meant being wealthy and the early sine qua non of Martha Custis’s appeal as a prospective spouse was her great wealth. His surviving correspondence makes clear that he had “an unabashed concern for his own economic interest,” especially when he suspected he was being cheated out of money or land. It is difficult to underestimate what Edmund Morgan described as GW’s “constant, wary, and often cold eye on making a profit.”

Something of a perfectionist and having an almost obsessive need to be in control, GW could be a very difficult man for whom to work. While fair and honest in his business dealings, he was demanding and exact, figuring what was due him to the penny or the ounce. He was rarely satisfied with his workers, and this was true for his white workers just as much as for his black slaves. His near harangues to his overseers and managers are a case in point. A river of sarcasm runs through GW’s correspondence as time and time again people failed to live up to his high and exacting standards. The wealthy Alexandria merchant, John Carlyle, who had married one of William Fairfax’s daughters, was a good friend of Washington for a number of years. Yet, Washington and Carlyle's business dealings were broken and their friendship severed in 1767 following a misunderstanding that arose over how to interpret Washington's wheat contract with the partnership of Carlyle & Adam. Such incidents were not atypical.

He was also relentless in seeking to ensure that he received the “cream of the crop,” when western lands were divvied up between the veterans of the French and Indian War. He justified his preferential treatment by arguing that without his ceaseless and expensive efforts, no one would have received an acre of land. When one of his fellow officers questioned the operation, GW made his umbrage crystal clear. “As I am not accustomed to receive such from any Man, nor would have taken the same language from you personally, without letting you feel some marks of my resentiment; I would advise you to be cautious in writing me a second of the same tenour; for though I understand you were drunk when you did it, yet give me leave to tell you, that drunkness is no excuse for rudeness; and that, but for your stupidity and sottishness you might have known, by attending tending to the public Gazettes, (particularly Rinds of the 14th. of January last) that you had your full quantity of ten thousand acres of Land allowed you.” GW was clearly not someone to trifle with, and challenges to his sense of entitlement could be met with prideful, angry tirades.

If GW had been merely acquisitive and concerned with his own interests, he would not have been a very attractive figure. There was, of course, more than just self-interest and power that motivated Washington as a Virginia planter. There was also a very high sense of honor and a strong sense of noblesse oblige. Few men were more charitable, giving both cash and food to the needy, paying for the education of and supporting not only many of his extended family, but also children of friends as well. For example, in 1769 he pledged £25 a year for the support of William Ramsay’s son at Princeton for “so long as it may be necessary” to complete his education. Washington even provided for the continuance of this annuity in the event of his death before William finished. “No other return is expected or wished for,” he assured Ramsay, “than that you will accept it with the same freedom & good will with which it is made.” In addition, because of an accidental disclosure, we know of one large gift that Washington made although he gave it with specific instructions that he remain anonymous. How many other anonymous gifts did he give where his instructions were carried out?

If one were to summarize GW in trait-like terms on the Matrix on the eve of the War for Independence, one would conclude that he was highest on the power axis but also very high on both the love and autonomy axes as well. He had successfully striven for control and independence but balanced it with a strong sense of civic responsibility. He was, by all accounts, a successful Virginia planter, wealthy, respected, and influential. Yet, as Douglas Adair notes, in one sense George Washington had set his sights low. He sought success rather than fame. Now, however, Fate would present him with new opportunities, as well as grave challenges.

George Washington was unanimously chosen to lead the new Continental army to protect America’s rights. He was the right man in the right place at the right time, and this was the great turning point in Washington’s life. Being in command of the Continental Army tested George Washington’s character in many different ways. Under the changed circumstances, he discovered that balancing his strong drives for power, love, and autonomy would be more difficult than ever. Success would not be easy, but success in such “a glorious cause” could lead to lasting fame. But even if achieved, neither success nor fame would come without a heavy price.

Washington’s ambivalence in accepting the role of Commander stemmed in part from a fear that he would not be able to perform the task and in part from a fear that his reputation would suffer as a result of failure. As part of his justification style, GW regularly offered disclaimers that he would not be able to perform a given task – and thus he should not be blamed for later failure since he accepted the responsibility only under duress and after full disclosure. At a later period, his admirer, Eliza Powel, noted, “He appears to have an invincible diffidence of his own abilities.” There is truth in this observation, but it has to be tempered. Underneath his diffidence, GW in fact had confidence in his ability. He sensed at his core he was a remarkable man, and careful examination reveals he tended to believe that everything operated more smoothly and efficiently with him at the helm than when he was not.

Paul Longmore is correct in stressing that in many ways, General Washington viewed himself as an actor playing a role in a great historical drama. Washington tended to see life as theatre [he frequently used theatrical images in his correspondence], and he knew the character that he wished to play. But Longmore is also correct in insisting GW was not “acting” by pretending to be someone that he wasn’t. He shared the values he came to embody, and became what he seemed to be, an incarnation of his countrymen’s highest ideals of virtuous leadership. Unlike some of his actions in the French and Indian war, GW's conduct in the American Revolution is virtually beyond reproach. His combination of dignity with amiability, of power with diffidence, of ability with modesty, impressed almost everyone. [Naturally, the General had his critics and some enemies, but there can be little doubt that he towered over everyone else in the hearts of the American people.]

Demonstrating his total commitment to the cause, not only did Washington serve without pay, but he also served without a furlough. It would be over six years before he saw his dearly loved Mount Vernon again—and his four step-grandchildren, all at once and all for the first time. By 18th century standards, he was a paragon of virtue in not taking advantage of his position. And, even when offered virtual dictatorial power, he was scrupulous about recognizing civilian authority over the military, leaving a priceless legacy in this regard, as in so many others. Finally, when victory was achieved following Yorktown, Washington stunned the world and insured his fame by voluntarily retiring, renouncing power, and returning to his farm - a modern Cincinnatus, the classical Roman hero who left his farm, led the Roman army to victory and then retired back to his farm.

Of course, such a brief summary paragraph ignores the unbelievably difficult and frustrating position that GW found himself in, attempting to maintain an army in the field and defeat formidable British forces in a war that lasted over eight years. The lack of trained troops, the unreliability of the militia, the absence of a stable currency, the drastic shortages in ammunition and supplies, significant Loyalist sentiment in much of the country, constant difficulties with his French allies, the petty bickering between the various states and their fear of any control by a central authority, coupled with the jealousy and intrigue within the American forces and the Continental Congress combined to make the task virtually impossible. Washington’s persistence and dogged determination in view of such obstacles were truly remarkable. He demonstrated what Robert Morris called “a patience in suffering.”

What kept him going? Certainly, he firmly believed in the “glorious cause” of American independence and in the vision of a free country based on republican principles. More and more, his love of country became his ruling passion. His strong ego became subsumed under his patriotism. Additionally, he had an indomitable will, steely determination, and remarkable self-discipline. He knew that it was not in the power of man to command success, but he would do everything in his power to deserve it. Interestingly, he compared himself to “a perfect Slave endeavouring under as many embarrassing circumstances as ever fell to one man's lot to encounter; and as pure motives as ever man was influenced by, to promote the cause, and Service I had imbarked in” [This quote is from his time as President]. Amid the miseries of the war, he wrote his cousin, “You ask how I am to be rewarded for all this? There is one reward that nothing can deprive me of, and that is, the consciousness of having done my duty with the strictest rectitude, and most scrupulous exactness, and the certain knowledge, that if we should, ultimately, fail in the present contest, it is not owing to the want of exertion in me” [GW to Lund 19 May 1780]. This was vintage Washington, arguing that if blame were to fall, it should not legitimately fall on him. He had done all a man could do.

Unlike Napoleon and so many other great nation builders, he did not have an unquenchable thirst for power and domination. But he did seem to have a nearly desperate need for the affection and admiration of his fellow men, especially what he considered “men of worth”. Time and again, in one fashion or another, Washington made clear that what he most desired was the “greatest of earthly rewards: the approbation and affections of a free people.” Washington’s desire for “approbation” can be illustrated by the fact he used it over 600 times in the Fitzpatrick addition of his papers. GW understood that the purity of a perfect heroism was the willingness to be rewarded only in fame, not in material awards. [Wills] That is what made his voluntary retirement and return to Mount Vernon and private life so special and drew comment from around the world. As the Pulitzer Prize winning historian Gordon Woods perceptively notes, “Washington was not naïve. He was well aware of the effect his resignation would have. He was trying to live up to the age’s image of a classical disinterested patriot who devotes his life to his country” and then retires to his farm.

Washington did not, however, return to Mount Vernon only to make a philosophical point about renouncing power. Mount Vernon was his hobby as well as his home, and it symbolized his origins, achievements, and aspirations. GW identified Mount Vernon with his freedom and autonomy, away from public cares and responsibilities, and he longed for it throughout the long struggle for independence, as he would later long for it during his presidency. Unlike many revolutionaries, GW had a healthy psyche, and he had a home and family to which he was strongly attached and to which he strongly wished to return.

The price of fame proved great indeed and it brought with it great and lasting responsibility. Washington’s love of country, his sense of duty, and the desire to protect his reputation [for Washington’s place in history was now inseparably linked to the fate of America] led him to reluctantly conclude that he must once again pick up the heavy burden of public leadership in the form of becoming the nascent country’s first President. As he shared with Lafayette, “Like you, my dear Sir, I sighed for retirement – like me, I am afraid, you must continue the sacrifice.” [March 19, 1791]

For another long eight years, Washington was once again compelled to put his mind “on the stretch.” Using the priceless asset of his own great popularity as the embodiment of revolutionary virtue, Washington worked tirelessly to promote his vision of America as a great and united nation. From his perspective, he sacrificed his ease and pleasure for the good of the country without any hope or expectation of reward other than the approval of right-minded people. Thus, any charges that he sought personal aggrandizement were intolerable. In one cabinet meeting, he virtually exploded, insisting that he “had rather be in his grave than in his present situation that he had rather be on his farm than be made emperor of the world & yet they were charging him with wanting to be a king.”

Throughout his life, Washington was always particularly sensitive to criticism, especially when anyone questioned his intentions. This extreme sensitivity to criticism – Jefferson believed that the President “feels these things [criticisms] more than any man I know” – can perhaps be considered the flipside of his insatiable need for approval. Whether this need was connected to a lack of approval from his mother when he was younger is naturally debatable, but despite Washington’s disclaimers, he clearly needed validation from others. GW was not as self-sufficient or removed from the judgments of others as someone like his neighbor, George Mason, who seemed more comfortable doing without the approval of the world if it disagreed with him.

Perhaps some of Washington’s sensitivity came from the fear that there might be an element of truth in the criticism concerning Washington’s desire for personal aggrandizement. Was there any validity to the critics’ charges? If it is true that power corrupts, wasn’t Washington to some degree corrupted? If not, why not? George Washington definitely had trouble acknowledging the depth and power of his ambition, and can be seen as walking "the tightrope of ambition with fear, and anxiety; afraid that he might slip into self-aggrandizement." [Brookhiser]

Washington’s “ultimate justification” for his actions later in life was to win approval and recognition for his disinterested service to his country, for seeking that type of fame was laudable in the eyes of the world, while lusting after personal aggrandizement was not. He desired what an admirer called “Honest Fame”; and although GW desperately wanted to enter the ‘Temple of Fame’, he only wanted to enter it through the ‘Doors of The temple of Virtue’. This emphasis on disinterested service [the trick of character that welds ego to larger purpose - Emery] and integrity to principles was the way GW navigated the tensions between his self-interest and the interest of others. He sought to transform any self-aggrandizing impulses into public service. Ultimately, it appears Washington resolved a potential conflict by convincing himself and his countrymen that he was acting purely out of the interest of his country. Time and time again he announced to the world that his driving motive was that of disinterested service.

By making such explicit proclamations, Washington set high standards that made it easier for him to guard against slipping into self-aggrandizement—his justification system was now defined against it. The tension between his underlying motive for self-enhancement and his conscious justification that he operated in disinterested service was revealed some interested behaviors. For example, as he prepared to enter New York City for his inauguration as the nation’s first president, he wrote the Governor, “I can assure you, with the utmost sincerity, that no reception can be so congenial to my feelings as a quiet entry devoid of ceremony” [To GOVERNOR GEORGE CLINTON Mount Vernon, March 25, 1789]. Washington must have known such a request would not be followed. His entry into the city inevitably drew huge throngs, all eager to catch a glimpse of their hero and participate in a historic moment. He made the same type of heartfelt, but clearly unrealistic, request when he drew up his final will and testament. “It is my express desire that my corpse be interred in a private manner, without parade or funeral oration.”

Why would such a realistic man make such an unrealistic request? As he had numerous times before, he would once again prove to the world – and to himself – that he had acted only for the good of the country, and now that his service to his country was over, he would emphasize his victory over any lusting for fame and glory by specifically requesting that he be buried in a purely private ceremony. The request would comport with the world's image of him and his image of himself. And yet Washington almost certainly knew at a subconscious level that this was one request that would be honored in the breech.

Some critics may say that GW’s inordinate love of fame is his “greatest moral weakness” [Schwartz], but what is truly impressive is the manner in which he channeled his great ambition in a positive way. “The massive passions that stirred Washington’s soul required the creation of equally massive control mechanisms that ultimately served the nation so well…The psychological struggle for self-control prepared GW to perform the crowning political achievement of his career, withdrawal from power. What we might call Washington’s internal muscularity is, of course impossible to see, but it was just as impressive as his marvelous physique.”[Ellis]

Our view is that Washington was not truly “disinterested,” but neither was he narrowly “selfish.” He had a deep self-love that found fulfillment in striving to always comport himself in an honorable way. In Paul Longmore’s perceptive conclusion, “Back of George Washington’s extraordinary exertions stirred a desire for distinction, a yearning for public esteem that ultimately became a quest for historical immortality. Behind his astounding performance prodded that mixture of egotism and patriotism, selfishness and public-mindedness that historians have come to call the spur of fame.”

In sum, what initially was a powerful organizing drive for GW’s own advancement and influence in his early years became fused with the interests of his country that he dearly loved as he advanced in his years. And, as suggested by the Matrix, it was the triumphant ways in which he navigated the inherent tensions between power, love and freedom that he earned his place in our country’s history as the one truly indispensable founder. And for that he deserves heartfelt kudos on what would have been his 283rd birthday.