which plan resolved the problem of representation

Article I, Section 1:

All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives.

Although the states generally favored a bicameral legislature, 1 Footnote 1 The Records of The Federal Convention of 1787 , at 54–55 (Max Farrand ed., 1911) . the states were heavily divided over the representation in each branch of Congress. 2 Footnote Id. at 509 ; Max Farrand , The Framing of the Constitution of the United States 92 (1913) . To resolve these concerns, the Convention delegates approved forming a “compromise committee” to devise a compromise among the proposed plans for Congress. 3 Footnote Farrand , Framing of the Constitution , supra note 2, at 97–98 . The committee proposed a plan that became known as the Great Compromise. 4 Footnote See generally id. at 91–112 (discussing the process that led to the Great Compromise). Roger Sherman and other delegates from Connecticut repeatedly advanced a legislative structure early in the Convention debates that eventually was proposed as the Great Compromise. See 1 The Records of The Federal Convention of 1787 , supra note 2, at 196 . Historians often credit Sherman and the Connecticut delegates as the architects of the Great Compromise. Mark David Hall , Roger Sherman and the Creation of the American Republic 96–98 (2013) (discussing Sherman’s proposal during the Convention debates that led to the “Connecticut Compromise” ); Farrand , Framing of the Constitution , supra note 2, at 106 . See also Wesberry v. Sanders, 376 U.S. 1, 12–13 (1964) (discussing Sherman’s role in the Great Compromise). The plan provided for a bicameral legislature with proportional representation based on a state’s population for one chamber and equal state representation in the other. 5 Footnote 1 The Records of The Federal Convention of 1787 , supra note 1, at 524 . See Farrand , Framing of the Constitution , supra note 2, at 104–07 . For the House of Representatives, the plan proposed that each state would have “one representative for every 40,000 inhabitants,” elected by the people. 6 Footnote 1 The Records of The Federal Convention of 1787 , supra note 1, at 526 . The compromise was amended to allow that state inhabitants would also include “three-fifths of the slaves” in the state. Id. at 603–06 ; Farrand , Framing of the Constitution , supra note 2, at 99 . For discussion of the “three-fifths” clause, see Intro.6.1 Continental Congress and Adoption of the Articles of Confederation. For the Senate, the committee proposed that each state would have an equal vote with members elected by the individual state legislatures. 7 Footnote 1 The Records of The Federal Convention of 1787 , supra note 1, at 160 . In 1913, the states ratified the Seventeenth amendment that requires members of the Senate to be elected by the people. After significant debate, the Convention adopted the Great Compromise on July 16, 1787. 8 Footnote Farrand , Framing of the Constitution , supra note 2, at 104–07 ; 1 Congressional Quarterly, Inc. , Guide to Congress 358, 367–68 (5th ed. 2000) (discussing of the ratification of the Seventeenth Amendment ).

During the state ratification debates that followed the Convention, one of the central objections from the Anti-Federalists was that the consolidation of government power in a national Congress could “destroy” state legislative power. 9 Footnote Gordon S. Wood , Creation of the American Republic 1776–1787 , at 526–530 (1969) (discussing state ratifications concerning the jurisdiction of federal and state legislatures under the Constitution). The Federalists attempted to curb these fears by noting that the sovereign power of the Nation resides in the people, and the Constitution merely “distribute[s] one portion of power” to the state and “another proportion to the government of the United States.” 10 Footnote Id. at 530 (quoting James Wilson from the Pennsylvania ratifying convention from Pennsylvania and the Federal Constitution 1787–1788 , at 302 (John Bach McMaster & Frederick D. Stone, eds. 2011) ). To further allay Anti-Federalist concerns regarding concentrated federal power in Congress, the Federalists emphasized that bicameralism, which lodged legislative power directly in the state governments through equal representation in the Senate, would serve to restrain, separate, and check federal power. 11 Footnote See id. at 559 (analyzing the Federalists’ views of bicameralism).

In vesting the legislative power in a bicameral Congress, the Framers of the Constitution purposefully divided and dispersed that power between two chambers—the House of Representatives with representation based on a state’s population and the Senate with equal state representation. 12 Footnote U.S. Const. art. I, § 7. cl. 2 . See The Federalist No. 39 (James Madison) ( “The house of representatives will derive its powers from the people of America, and the people will be represented in the same proportion, and on the same principle, as they are in the Legislature of a particular State. So far the Government is national not federal. The Senate on the other hand will derive its powers from the States, as political and co-equal societies; and these will be represented on the principle of equality in the Senate, as they now are in the existing Congress. So far the government is federal, not national.” ). The Framers recognized that the division of legislative power between two distinct chambers of elected members was needed “to protect liberty” and address the states’ fear of an imbalance of power in Congress. 13 Footnote See Immigration & Naturalization Serv. v. Chadha, 462 U.S. 919, 950 (1983) ( “[T]he Framers were . . . concerned, although not of one mind, over the apprehensions of the smaller states. Those states feared a commonality of interest among the larger states would work to their disadvantage; representatives of the larger states, on the other hand, were skeptical of a legislature that could pass laws favoring a minority of the people.” See also The Federalist No. 51 (James Madison) ( “In republican government, the legislative authority necessarily predominates. The remedy for this inconveniency is to divide the legislature into different branches; and to render them, by different modes of election and different principles of action, as little connected with each other as the nature of their common functions and their common dependence on the society will admit.” ); Farrand , Framing of the Constitution , supra note 2, at 99–112 (describing the debate among the states regarding the structure of Congress). As later explained by Chief Justice Warren Burger, “the Great Compromise, under which one House was viewed as representing the people and the other the states, allayed the fears of both the large and small states.” 14 Footnote Chadha , 462 U.S. at 950 . See also Farrand , Framing of the Constitution , supra note 2, at 105–06 (explaining the structure of Congress as achieved under the “Great Compromise” ).

By diffusing legislative power between two chambers of Congress in the legislative Vesting Clause, the Framers of the Constitution sought to promote the separation of powers, federalism, and individual rights. 15 Footnote See The Federalist No. 62 (James Madison) ( “[A] senate, as a second branch of the legislative assembly, distinct from, and dividing the power with, a first, must be in all cases a salutary check on the government. It doubles the security to the people, by requiring the concurrence of two distinct bodies in schemes of usurpation or perfidy, where the ambition or corruption of one would otherwise be sufficient.” ). See also John F. Manning , Textualism as a Nondelegation Doctrine , 97 Colum. L. Rev. 673 , 708–09 (1997) (describing how the legislative procedures “promote caution and deliberation; by mandating that each piece of legislation clear an intricate process involving distinct constitutional actors, bicameralism and presentment reduce the incidence of hasty and ill-considered legislation” ). They designed the bicameral Congress so that “legislative power would be exercised only after opportunity for full study and debate in separate settings.” 16 Footnote Chadha , 462 U.S. at 951 . While acknowledging that the bicameral legislative process often produces conflict, inefficiency, and “in some instances [can] be injurious as well as beneficial,” the Framers believed that the intricate law-making process promotes open discussion and safeguards against “against improper acts of legislation.” 17 Footnote The Federalist No. 62 (James Madison) . John F. Manning , Textualism as a Nondelegation Doctrine , 97 Colum. L. Rev. 673 , 709–10 (1997) (discussing the legislative process as protection against “hasty and ill-considered legislation” ). Some scholars have argued that the Framers deliberately designed the lawmaking process to be slow and inefficient so that the laws that passed were sufficiently deliberative, representative, and accountable. See, e.g. , Cynthia R. Farina , Statutory Interpretation and the Balance of Power in the Administrative State , 89 Colum. L. Rev. 452 , 524 (1989) ( “The Confederation period led [the Framers] to conclude that government which moved too quickly in establishing and altering policy was, over time, less likely to make wise choices and more likely to threaten individual liberty. Therefore, they deliberately created a lawmaking process that was slow, even cumbersome.” ). As the Supreme Court later explained, the “legislative steps outlined in Art. I are not empty formalities” but serve to “make certain that there is an opportunity for deliberation and debate.” 18 Footnote Chadha , 462 U.S. at 958 n.23 .

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7.4: The Constitutional Convention and Federal Constitution

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The economic problems that plagued the thirteen states of the Confederation set the stage for the creation of a strong central government under a federal constitution. Although the original purpose of the convention was to amend the Articles of Confederation, some—though not all—delegates moved quickly to create a new framework for a more powerful national government. This proved extremely controversial. Those who attended the convention split over the issue of robust, centralized government and questions of how Americans would be represented in the federal government. Those who opposed the proposal for a stronger federal government argued that such a plan betrayed the Revolution by limiting the voice of the American people.

THE CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION

There had been earlier efforts to address the Confederation’s perilous state. In early 1786, Virginia’s James Madison advocated a meeting of states to address the widespread economic problems that plagued the new nation. Heeding Madison’s call, the legislature in Virginia invited all thirteen states to meet in Annapolis, Maryland, to work on solutions to the issue of commerce between the states. Eight states responded to the invitation. But the resulting 1786 Annapolis Convention failed to provide any solutions because only five states sent delegates. These delegates did, however, agree to a plan put forward by Alexander Hamilton for a second convention to meet in May 1787 in Philadelphia. Shays’ Rebellion gave greater urgency to the planned convention. In February 1787, in the wake of the uprising in western Massachusetts, the Confederation Congress authorized the Philadelphia convention. This time, all the states except Rhode Island sent delegates to Philadelphia to confront the problems of the day.

The stated purpose of the Philadelphia Convention in 1787 was to amend the Articles of Confederation. Very quickly, however, the attendees decided to create a new framework for a national government. That framework became the United States Constitution, and the Philadelphia convention became known as the Constitutional Convention of 1787. Fifty-five men met in Philadelphia in secret; historians know of the proceedings only because James Madison kept careful notes of what transpired. The delegates knew that what they were doing would be controversial; Rhode Island refused to send delegates, and New Hampshire’s delegates arrived late. Two delegates from New York, Robert Yates and John Lansing, left the convention when it became clear that the Articles were being put aside and a new plan of national government was being drafted. They did not believe the delegates had the authority to create a strong national government.

Click and Explore:

Read “Reasons for Dissent from the Proposed Constitution” in order to understand why Robert Yates and John Lansing, New York’s delegates to the 1787 Philadelphia Convention, didn’t believe the convention should draft a new plan of national government.

THE QUESTION OF REPRESENTATION

One issue that the delegates in Philadelphia addressed was the way in which representatives to the new national government would be chosen. Would individual citizens be able to elect representatives? Would representatives be chosen by state legislatures? How much representation was appropriate for each state?

James Madison put forward a proposition known as the Virginia Plan, which called for a strong national government that could overturn state laws (Figure 7.4.1). The plan featured a bicameral or two-house legislature, with an upper and a lower house. The people of the states would elect the members of the lower house, whose numbers would be determined by the population of the state. State legislatures would send delegates to the upper house. The number of representatives in the upper chamber would also be based on the state’s population. This proportional representation gave the more populous states, like Virginia, more political power. The Virginia Plan also called for an executive branch and a judicial branch, both of which were absent under the Articles of Confederation. The lower and upper house together were to appoint members to the executive and judicial branches. Under this plan, Virginia, the most populous state, would dominate national political power and ensure its interests, including slavery, would be safe.

The Virginia Plan’s call for proportional representation alarmed the representatives of the smaller states. William Paterson introduced a New Jersey Plan to counter Madison’s scheme, proposing that all states have equal votes in a unicameral national legislature. He also addressed the economic problems of the day by calling for the Congress to have the power to regulate commerce, to raise revenue though taxes on imports and through postage, and to enforce Congressional requisitions from the states.

Roger Sherman from Connecticut offered a compromise to break the deadlock over the thorny question of representation. His Connecticut Compromise, also known as the Great Compromise, outlined a different bicameral legislature in which the upper house, the Senate, would have equal representation for all states; each state would be represented by two senators chosen by the state legislatures. Only the lower house, the House of Representatives, would have proportional representation.

THE QUESTION OF SLAVERY

The question of slavery stood as a major issue at the Constitutional Convention because slaveholders wanted slaves to be counted along with whites, termed “free inhabitants,” when determining a state’s total population. This, in turn, would augment the number of representatives accorded to those states in the lower house. Some northerners, however, such as New York’s Gouverneur Morris, hated slavery and did not even want the term included in the new national plan of government. Slaveholders argued that slavery imposed great burdens upon them and that, because they carried this liability, they deserved special consideration; slaves needed to be counted for purposes of representation.

The issue of counting or not counting slaves for purposes of representation connected directly to the question of taxation. Beginning in 1775, the Second Continental Congress asked states to pay for war by collecting taxes and sending the tax money to the Congress. The amount each state had to deliver in tax revenue was determined by a state’s total population, including both free and enslaved individuals. States routinely fell far short of delivering the money requested by Congress under the plan. In April 1783, the Confederation Congress amended the earlier system of requisition by having slaves count as three-fifths of the white population. In this way, slaveholders gained a significant tax break. The delegates in Philadelphia adopted this same three-fifths formula in the summer of 1787.

Under the three-fifths compromise in the 1787 Constitution, each slave would be counted as three-fifths of a white person. Article 1, Section 2 stipulated that “Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several states . . . according to their respective Number, which shall be determined by adding to the whole number of free Persons, including those bound for service for a Term of Years [white servants], and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other persons.” Since representation in the House of Representatives was based on the population of a state, the three-fifths compromise gave extra political power to slave states, although not as much as if the total population, both free and slave, had been used. Significantly, no direct federal income tax was immediately imposed. (The Sixteenth Amendment, ratified in 1913, put in place a federal income tax.) Northerners agreed to the three-fifths compromise because the Northwest Ordinance of 1787, passed by the Confederation Congress, banned slavery in the future states of the northwest. Northern delegates felt this ban balanced political power between states with slaves and those without. The three-fifths compromise gave an advantage to slaveholders; they added three-fifths of their human property to their state’s population, allowing them to send representatives based in part on the number of slaves they held.

THE QUESTION OF DEMOCRACY

Many of the delegates to the Constitutional Convention had serious reservations about democracy, which they believed promoted anarchy. To allay these fears, the Constitution blunted democratic tendencies that appeared to undermine the republic. Thus, to avoid giving the people too much direct power, the delegates made certain that senators were chosen by the state legislatures, not elected directly by the people (direct elections of senators came with the Seventeenth Amendment to the Constitution, ratified in 1913). As an additional safeguard, the delegates created theElectoral College, the mechanism for choosing the president. Under this plan, each state has a certain number of electors, which is its number of senators (two) plus its number of representatives in the House of Representatives. Critics, then as now, argue that this process prevents the direct election of the president.

THE FIGHT OVER RATIFICATION

The draft constitution was finished in September 1787. The delegates decided that in order for the new national government to be implemented, each state must first hold a special ratifying convention. When nine of the thirteen had approved the plan, the constitution would go into effect.

When the American public learned of the new constitution, opinions were deeply divided, but most people were opposed. To salvage their work in Philadelphia, the architects of the new national government began a campaign to sway public opinion in favor of their blueprint for a strong central government. In the fierce debate that erupted, the two sides articulated contrasting visions of the American republic and of democracy. Supporters of the 1787 Constitution, known as Federalists, made the case that a centralized republic provided the best solution for the future. Those who opposed it, known as Anti-Federalists, argued that the Constitution would consolidate all power in a national government, robbing the states of the power to make their own decisions. To them, the Constitution appeared to mimic the old corrupt and centralized British regime, under which a far-off government made the laws. Anti-Federalists argued that wealthy aristocrats would run the new national government, and that the elite would not represent ordinary citizens; the rich would monopolize power and use the new government to formulate policies that benefited their class—a development that would also undermine local state elites. They also argued that the Constitution did not contain a bill of rights.

New York’s ratifying convention illustrates the divide between the Federalists and Anti-Federalists. When one Anti-Federalist delegate named Melancton Smith took issue with the scheme of representation as being too limited and not reflective of the people, Alexander Hamilton responded:

It has been observed by an honorable gentleman [Smith], that a pure democracy, if it were practicable, would be the most perfect government. Experience has proven, that no position in politics is more false than this. The ancient democracies, in which the people themselves deliberated, never possessed one feature of good government. Their very character was tyranny; their figure deformity: When they assembled, the field of debate presented an ungovernable mob, not only incapable of deliberation, but prepared for every enormity. In these assemblies, the enemies of the people brought forward their plans of ambition systematically. They were opposed by their enemies of another party; and it became a matter of contingency, whether the people subjected themselves to be led blindly by one tyrant or by another.

The Federalists, particularly John Jay, Alexander Hamilton, and James Madison, put their case to the public in a famous series of essays known as The Federalist Papers . These were first published in New York and subsequently republished elsewhere in the United States.

DEFINING AMERICAN: JAMES MADISON ON THE BENEFITS OF REPUBLICANISM

The tenth essay in The Federalist Papers , often called Federalist No. 10, is one of the most famous. Written by James Madison (Figure 7.4.2), it addresses the problems of political parties (“factions”). Madison argued that there were two approaches to solving the problem of political parties: a republican government and a democracy. He argued that a large republic provided the best defense against what he viewed as the tumult of direct democracy. Compromises would be reached in a large republic and citizens would be represented by representatives of their own choosing.

From this view of the subject, it may be concluded, that a pure Democracy, by which I mean a Society consisting of a small number of citizens, who assemble and administer the Government in person, can admit of no cure for the mischiefs of faction. A common passion or interest will, in almost every case, be felt by a majority of the whole; a communication and concert result from the form of Government itself; and there is nothing to check the inducements to sacrifice the weaker party, or an obnoxious individual. Hence it is, that such Democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security, or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives, as they have been violent in their deaths. Theoretic politicians, who have patronized this species of Government, have erroneously supposed, that by reducing mankind to a perfect equality in their political rights, they would, at the same time, be perfectly equalized and assimilated in their possessions, their opinions, and their passions.

A Republic, by which I mean a Government in which the scheme of representation takes place, opens a different prospect, and promises the cure for which we are seeking. Let us examine the points in which it varies from pure Democracy, and we shall comprehend both the nature of the cure, and the efficacy which it must derive from the Union.

The two great points of difference, between a Democracy and a Republic, are, first, the delegation of the Government, in the latter, to a small number of citizens elected by the rest: Secondly, the greater number of citizens, and greater sphere of country, over which the latter may be extended.

Does Madison recommend republicanism or democracy as the best form of government? What arguments does he use to prove his point?

Read the full text of Federalist No. 10 on Wikisource. What do you think are Madison’s most and least compelling arguments? How would different members of the new United States view his arguments?

Including all the state ratifying conventions around the country, a total of fewer than two thousand men voted on whether to adopt the new plan of government. In the end, the Constitution only narrowly won approval (Figure 7.4.3). In New York, the vote was thirty in favor to twenty-seven opposed. In Massachusetts, the vote to approve was 187 to 168, and some claim supporters of the Constitution resorted to bribes in order to ensure approval. Virginia ratified by a vote of eighty-nine to seventy-nine, and Rhode Island by thirty-four to thirty-two. The opposition to the Constitution reflected the fears that a new national government, much like the British monarchy, created too much centralized power and, as a result, deprived citizens in the various states of the ability to make their own decisions.

Section Summary

The economic crisis of the 1780s, shortcomings of the Articles of Confederation, and outbreak of Shays’ Rebellion spurred delegates from twelve of the thirteen states to gather for the Constitutional Convention of 1787. Although the stated purpose of the convention was to modify the Articles of Confederation, their mission shifted to the building of a new, strong federal government. Federalists like James Madison and Alexander Hamilton led the charge for a new United States Constitution, the document that endures as the oldest written constitution in the world, a testament to the work done in 1787 by the delegates in Philadelphia.

Review Questions

Which plan resolved the issue of representation for the U.S. Constitution?

the Rhode Island Agreement

the New Jersey Plan

the Connecticut Compromise

the Virginia Plan

How was the U.S. Constitution ratified?

by each state at special ratifying conventions

at the Constitutional Convention of 1787

at the Confederation Convention

by popular referendum in each state

Explain the argument that led to the three-fifths rule and the consequences of that rule.

Southern slaveholders wanted slaves to count for the purposes of representation, while people from northern states feared that counting slaves would give the southern states too much power. Their fears were valid; the three-fifths rule, which stated that each slave counted as three-fifths of a white person for purposes of representation, gave the southern states the balance of political power.

Critical Thinking Questions

Describe the state constitutions that were more democratic and those that were less so. What effect would these different constitutions have upon those states? Who could participate in government, whether by voting or by holding public office? Whose interests were represented, and whose were compromised?

In what ways does the United States Constitution manifest the principles of both republican and democratic forms of government? In what ways does it deviate from those principles?

In this chapter’s discussion of New York’s ratifying convention, Alexander Hamilton takes issue with Anti-Federalist delegate Melancton Smith’s assertion that (as Hamilton says) “a pure democracy, if it were practicable, would be the most perfect government.” What did Smith—and Hamilton—mean by “a pure democracy”? How does this compare to the type of democracy that represents the modern United States?

Describe popular attitudes toward African Americans, women, and Indians in the wake of the Revolution. In what ways did the established social and political order depend upon keeping members of these groups in their circumscribed roles? If those roles were to change, how would American society and politics have had to adjust?

How did the process of creating and ratifying the Constitution, and the language of the Constitution itself, confirm the positions of African Americans, women, and Indians in the new republic? How did these roles compare to the stated goals of the republic?

What were the circumstances that led to Shays’ Rebellion? What was the government’s response? Would this response have confirmed or negated the grievances of the participants in the uprising? Why?

The Great Compromise of 1787

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The Great Compromise of 1787, also known as the Sherman Compromise, was an agreement reached during the Constitutional Convention of 1787 between delegates of the states with large and small populations that defined the structure of Congress and the number of representatives each state would have in Congress according to the United States Constitution. Under the agreement proposed by Connecticut delegate Roger Sherman, Congress would be a “bicameral” or two-chambered body, with each state getting a number of representatives in the lower chamber (the House) proportional to its population and two representatives in the upper chamber (the Senate).

Key Takeaways: Great Compromise

• The Great Compromise of 1787 defined the structure of the U.S. Congress and the number of representatives each state would have in Congress under the U.S. Constitution.
• The Great Compromise was brokered as an agreement between the large and small states during the Constitutional Convention of 1787 by Connecticut delegate Roger Sherman.
• Under the Great Compromise, each state would get two representatives in the Senate and a variable number of representatives in the House in proportion to its population according to the decennial U.S. census.

Perhaps the greatest debate undertaken by the delegates to the Constitutional Convention in 1787 centered on how many representatives each state should have in the new government's lawmaking branch, the U.S. Congress. As is often the case in government and politics, resolving a great debate required a great compromise—in this case, the Great Compromise of 1787. Early in the Constitutional Convention, delegates envisioned a Congress consisting of only a single chamber with a certain number of representatives from each state.

Weeks before the Constitutional Convention convened on July 16, 1787, the framers had already made several important decisions about how the Senate should be structured. They rejected a proposal to have the House of Representatives elect senators from lists submitted by the individual state legislatures and agreed that those legislatures should elect their senators. In fact, until the ratification of the 17th Amendment in 1913, all U.S. Senators were appointed by the state legislatures rather than elected by the people. 

By the end of its first day in session, the convention had already set the minimum age for senators at 30 and the term length at six years, as opposed to 25 for House members, with two-year terms. James Madison explained that these distinctions, based on “the nature of the senatorial trust, which requires greater extent of information and stability of character,” would allow the Senate “to proceed with more coolness, with more system, and with more wisdom than the popular[ly elected] branch.”

However, the issue of equal representation threatened to destroy the seven-week-old convention. Delegates from the large states believed that because their states contributed proportionally more in taxes and military resources, they should enjoy proportionally greater representation in the Senate as well as in the House. Delegates from small states argued—with similar intensity—that all states should be equally represented in both houses.

When Roger Sherman proposed the Great Compromise, Benjamin Franklin agreed that each state should have an equal vote in the Senate in all matters—except those involving revenue and spending. 

Over the Fourth of July holiday, delegates worked out a compromise plan that sidetracked Franklin’s proposal. On July 16, the convention adopted the Great Compromise by a suspenseful margin of one vote. Many historians have noted that without that vote, there would likely have been no U.S. Constitution today.

Representation

The burning question was, how many representatives from each state? Delegates from the larger, more populous states favored the Virginia Plan , which called for each state to have a different number of representatives based on the state’s population. Delegates from smaller states supported the New Jersey Plan , under which each state would send the same number of representatives to Congress.

Delegates from the smaller states argued that, despite their lower populations, their states held equal legal status to that of the larger states, and that proportional representation would be unfair to them. Delegate Gunning Bedford, Jr. of Delaware notoriously threatened that the small states could be forced to “find some foreign ally of more honor and good faith, who will take them by the hand and do them justice.”

However, Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts objected to the small states’ claim of legal sovereignty, stating that

“we never were independent States, were not such now, and never could be even on the principles of the Confederation. The States and the advocates for them were intoxicated with the idea of their sovereignty.”

Sherman's Plan

Connecticut delegate Roger Sherman is credited with proposing the alternative of a "bicameral," or two-chambered Congress made up of a Senate and a House of Representatives. Each state, suggested Sherman, would send an equal number of representatives to the Senate, and one representative to the House for every 30,000 residents of the state.

At the time, all the states except Pennsylvania had bicameral legislatures, so the delegates were familiar with the structure of Congress proposed by Sherman.

Sherman’s plan pleased delegates from both the large and small states and became known as the Connecticut Compromise of 1787, or the Great Compromise.

The structure and powers of the new U.S. Congress, as proposed by the delegates of the Constitutional Convention, were explained to the people by Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers.

Apportionment and Redistricting

Today, each state is represented in Congress by two Senators and a variable number of members of the House of Representatives based on the state’s population as reported in the most recent decennial census. The process of fairly determining the number of members of the House from each state is called " apportionment ."

The first census in 1790 counted 4 million Americans. Based on that count, the total number of members elected to the House of Representatives grew from the original 65 to 106. The current House membership of 435 was set by Congress in 1911.

Redistricting to Ensure Equal Representation 

To ensure fair and equal representation in the House, the process of “ redistricting ” is used to establish or change the geographic boundaries within the states from which representatives are elected.

In the 1964 case of Reynolds v. Sims , the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that all of the congressional districts in each state must all have roughly the same population.

Through apportionment and redistricting, high population urban areas are prevented from gaining an inequitable political advantage over less populated rural areas.

For example, if New York City were not split into several congressional districts, the vote of a single New York City resident would carry more influence on the House than all of the residents in the rest of the State of New York combined.

How the 1787 Compromise Impacts Modern Politics

While the populations of the states varied in 1787, the differences were far less pronounced than they are today. For example, the 2020 population of Wyoming at 549,914 pales in comparison to California’s 39.78 million. As a result, one then-unforeseen political impact of the Great Compromise is that states with smaller populations have disproportionately more power in the modern Senate. While California is home to almost 70% more people than Wyoming, both states have two votes in the Senate.

“The founders never imagined … the great differences in the population of states that exist today,” said political scientist George Edwards III of Texas A&M University. “If you happen to live in a low-population state you get a disproportionately bigger say in American government.”

Due to this proportionate imbalance of voting power, interests in smaller states, such as coal mining in West Virginia or corn farming in Iowa, are more likely to benefit from federal funding through tax breaks and crop subsidies .

The Framer’s intent to “protect” the smaller states through equal representation in the Senate also manifests itself in the Electoral College, as each state’s number of electoral votes is based on its combined number of representatives in the House and Senate. For example, in Wyoming, the state with the smallest population, each of its three electors represents a far smaller group of people than each of the 55 electoral votes cast by California, the most populous state. 

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The Constitutional Convention of 1787

Washington at Constitutional Convention of 1787, signing of U.S. Constitution.

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On the last day of the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia, Benjamin Franklin observed that he had often wondered whether the design on the president's chair depicted a rising or a setting sun. "Now at length," he remarked, "I have the happiness to know that it is a rising and not a setting sun."

Franklin's optimism came only after many months of debate and argumentation over the form of government that would best secure the future safety and happiness of the young American republic. At times it seemed that the Convention would fail as a result of seemingly irreconcilable views between the delegates, especially on the questions of selecting representatives to Congress, the relationship of the national and state governments, and the powers of the president. After a month of deadlock over the issue of representation, Franklin himself had called for a prayer because "mankind may hereafter from this unfortunate instance, despair of establishing Governments by Human wisdom."

In this unit, students will examine the roles that key American founders played in creating the Constitution, and the challenges they faced in the process. They will learn why many Americans in the 1780s believed that reforms to the Articles of Confederation were necessary, and the steps taken to authorize the 1787 Convention in Philadelphia. They will become familiar with the main issues that divided delegates at the Convention, particularly the questions of representation in Congress and the office of the presidency. Finally, they will see how a spirit of compromise, in the end, was necessary for the Convention to fulfill its task of improving the American political system.

Guiding Questions

Was the Philadelphia Convention of 1787 necessary to preserve the Union?

Why was the question of representation such an important issue to the delegates at the Constitutional Convention of 1787?

Why was creating the office of the presidency such an important and difficult task for the delegates at the Constitutional Convention of 1787?

Learning Objectives

Analyze the steps taken by Americans to bring about the 1787 Convention by placing key events in historical order in a timeline.

Examine actions taken by several state governments that violated the Articles of Confederation and acts of Congress.

Examine the powers of Congress under the Articles of Confederation and evaluate the extent to which those powers ensured the prosperity and security of the United States.

Compare the views of several American founders about the problems of the American political system in the 1780s.

Evaluate the schemes of representation in the Virginia Plan, the New Jersey Plan, and the Hamilton Plan.

Evaluate the extent to which the Connecticut Compromise resolved the question of representation.

Analyze the competing perspectives around the creation of a Chief Executive and evaluate how the office of the President was codified in the U.S. Constitution.

Compare the responsibilities of a President identified in the U.S. Constitution with the powers and responsibilities today.

Lesson Plans in Curriculum

Lesson 1: the road to the constitutional convention.

This lesson focuses on the problems under the Articles of Confederation between 1783 and 1786 leading to the 1787 Convention. Through examination of primary sources, students will see why some prominent American founders, more than others, believed that the United States faced a serious crisis, and that drastic changes, rather than minor amendments, to the Articles were necessary.

Lesson 2: The Question of Representation at the 1787 Convention

When the delegates to the Philadelphia Convention convened in May of 1787 to recommend amendments to the Articles of Confederation, one of the first issues they addressed was the plan for representation in Congress. This lesson will focus on the various plans for representation debated during the Constitutional Convention of 1787.

Lesson 3: Creating the Office of the Presidency

As the delegates at the Philadelphia Convention of 1787 continued to develop a plan of government that would remedy the defects of the Articles of Confederation, one of the most difficult challenges was creating the office of the presidency. This lesson will focus on the arguments over the various characteristics and powers of the office of president as debated during the Constitutional Convention of 1787.

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How the Great Compromise and the Electoral College Affect Politics

By: Amanda Onion

Updated: August 9, 2023 | Original: April 17, 2018

The Great Compromise was forged in a heated dispute during the 1787 Constitutional Convention: States with larger populations wanted congressional representation based on population, while smaller states demanded equal representation. To keep the convention from dissolving into chaos, the founding fathers came up with the Great Compromise. The agreement, which created today’s system of congressional representation, now influences everything from “pork barrel” legislation to the way votes are counted in the electoral college during presidential elections.

The debate almost destroyed the U.S. Constitution.

At the Constitutional Convention of 1787, delegates from larger states believed each state’s representation in the newly proposed Senate should be proportionate to population.

Smaller states with lower populations argued that such an arrangement would lead to an unfair dominance of larger states in the new nation’s government, and each state should have equal representation, regardless of population.

The disagreement over representation threatened to derail the ratification of the U.S. Constitution since delegates from both sides of the dispute vowed to reject the document if they didn’t get their way. The solution came in the form of a compromise proposed by statesmen Roger Sherman and Oliver Ellsworth of Connecticut.

The Great Compromise created two legislative bodies in Congress.

Also known as the Sherman Compromise or the Connecticut Compromise, the deal combined proposals from the Virginia (large state) plan and the New Jersey (small state) plan.

According to the Great Compromise, there would be two national legislatures in a bicameral Congress. Members of the House of Representatives would be allocated according to each state’s population and elected by the people.

In the second body—the Senate —each state would have two representatives regardless of the state’s size, and state legislatures would choose Senators. (In 1913, the 17th Amendment was passed, tweaking the Senate system so that Senators would be elected directly by the people.)

The plan was at first rejected, but then approved by a slim margin on July 23, 1787.

Smaller states have disproportionately more power in the Senate.

At the time of the convention, states’ populations varied, but not by nearly as much as they do today. As a result, one of the main lingering political effects of the Great Compromise is that states with smaller populations have a disproportionately bigger voice in the nation’s Congress.

As political scientist George Edwards III of Texas A&M University points out, California hosts about 68 times more people than Wyoming, yet they have the same number of votes in the Senate.

“The founders never imagined … the great differences in the population of states that exist today,” says Edwards. “If you happen to live in a low-population state you get a disproportionately bigger say in American government.”

The imbalance of proportionate power favoring smaller states in the Senate means that interests in those states, such as mining in West Virginia or hog farming in Iowa, are more likely to get attention—and money—from federal coffers.

“In the Senate when they’re trying to get to 51 votes to pass a bill, every vote counts,” says Todd Estes, a historian at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. “That’s when the smaller states can demand amendments and additions to bills to look out for their own state’s interest.”

The Great Compromise also skewed the electoral college.

The principle of protecting small states through equal representation in the Senate carries over into the electoral college, which elects the president since the number of electoral votes designated to each state is based on a state’s combined number of representatives in the House and Senate.

That means, for example, even though Wyoming only has three votes in the electoral college, with the smallest population of all the states, each elector represents a far smaller group of people than each of the 55 electoral votes in the most populous state of California.

The system ensures power is distributed geographically.

Some scholars see the small-state bias in the Senate as critical. The arrangement means that power in the Senate is distributed geographically, if not by population, ensuring that interests across the entire country are represented.

Gary L. Gregg II, a political scientist at the University of Louisville in Kentucky, argues in a 2012 article in Politico that major metropolitan areas already hold power by hosting major media, donor, academic and government centers. The structure of the Senate and the corresponding representation in the electoral college, he says, ensures that the interests of rural and small-town America are preserved.

Was that the intention of the Founding Fathers? Edwards is doubtful since, as he points out, the majority of Americans at the time of Constitutional Congress came from rural areas—not urban. “No one was thinking about protecting rural interests,” Edwards says. “Rural interests were dominant at the time.”

Whatever the viewpoint on the fairness of the Great Compromise’s distribution of delegates to the Senate, it is unlikely to ever change. This is because equal-state representation in the Senate is specifically protected in the Constitution.

According to Article V of the Constitution, no state can lose its equal representation in the Senate without the state’s permission. And no state is likely to willingly give up their say in the Senate.

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The first amendment, the constitutional convention of 1787: a revolution in government.

by Richard R. Beeman

The United States Constitution has become the primary text of America’s civil religion. As a nation lacking a common religion, “We the People” have come to worship our Constitution as the scripture that holds us together. In virtually all of the public opinion polls conducted on the subject, Americans not only express their reverence for the Constitution, but also their strong opinions about its meaning. Indeed, many Americans—whether Tea Party members, left-wing critics of growing inequality in America, Democrats or Republicans in Congress, and (with particular impact) justices of the United States Supreme Court—feel so passionately about our founding documents that they claim that they and they alone are the true defenders of the ideas expressed in them; and that their opponents are not only mistaken and misguided, but in some cases, downright “un-American.” But in fact, whatever their passion or reverence for America’s Constitution, most Americans lack even a minimal historical understanding of it. (In one recent survey, for example, 71 percent of Americans believed that the phrase “all men are created equal” appeared in the Constitution, not in the Declaration of the Independence. Even more amazing, in another poll, a third of American expressed the belief that the Declaration of Independence was written after the Civil War!)

This brief, introductory essay on the “Interactive Constitution” will focus on the efforts of the fifty-five men who gathered in Philadelphia in the Assembly Room of the Pennsylvania State House (much later to be known as Independence Hall) in the summer of 1787 to draft the four parchment pages of the original Constitution. But it is impossible to begin even a brief essay on the Constitution and the Founding Fathers of 1787 without saying a few words about the document, drafted eleven years earlier, without which Americans could not be engaged in defining the character of their new nation: the Declaration of Independence.     

The Beginning of an “American Identity.”

America’s Declaration of Independence, drafted by the young but rapidly-rising revolutionary leader Thomas Jefferson, and adopted by the revolutionary Continental Congress on July 4, 1776, marks the first attempt by the “united States” of America not only to justify their decision to separate themselves from the Empire of Great Britain, but also to define some of the “unalienable rights” on which their revolutionary action was based. Included in the opening paragraphs of the Declaration of Independence is perhaps the most important statement of American ideals ever articulated:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People  to alter or abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.  

Those ideas of the equality of mankind; that governments are based on the consent of the governed; that it is the fundamental obligation of a government to serve the needs of the people it governs; and, indeed, that it is the right of the people to abolish a government that does not serve those ends, has formed the basis of American government and society from that time forward.

As a part of their decision for independence, the “united States” moved forward to create the first written constitutions in the world’s history. Most of those state constitutions, in addition to crafting specific outlines of the way in which their new state governments should function, included “declarations of rights.” These declarations articulated in specific fashion the nature of the “unalienable rights” referred to in the Declaration of Independence—rights such as freedom of speech, freedom of religion, the right of trial by jury, the right to bear arms in the context of a “citizens militia,” and many, many others. These state constitutions were bold revolutionary experiments, and in many cases, because they were the first time state political leaders sought to write down the way their governments should function, they were far from perfect. But they were an important step forward in the notion that the purpose of governments was to serve the public interest while at the same time protecting individual liberty.  

Shortly thereafter, the thirteen soon-to-be independent states created an “Articles of Confederation.” Although some regard it as America’s first “federal” constitution, in fact, it gave so few powers to the central American government that it was more like a treaty among the thirteen independent states than a constitution for a new nation.  It amounted to little more than a “league of friendship,” in which “each state retain[ed] its sovereignty, freedom, and independence.” Although it gave to the central government substantial responsibilities—including the “common defence, the security of their liberties and their mutual and general welfare”—it denied to the government most of the powers necessary to carry out those responsibilities—including the power to tax and to regulate commerce among the independent states. Moreover, the Articles of Confederation failed to provide for a chief executive capable of giving energy and focus to the new central government.

By the fall of 1786, the combination of a financial crisis suffered by the newly-created confederation government and disorder threatened by dissatisfied farmers in western Massachusetts, led a group of “nationalist” politicians, meeting in Annapolis on September 22, 1786, to propose that the Continental Congress in New York call a “general convention” in Philadelphia. Congress delaying until February 21, 1787, reluctantly agreed to that convention, but limited any change to the mere “revising” of the existing Articles of Confederation. The fifty-five delegates who met in Philadelphia between May 25 and September 17, 1787, would not only reject the Articles of Confederation altogether, but they would produce the first written constitution for any nation in the history of the world.

Those gathered in the Assembly Room of the Pennsylvania State House during the summer of 1787 faced a formidable task. The thirteen “united States” seemed at that moment remarkably disunited. Yet somehow, in the space of slightly less than four months, they managed to pull off an extraordinary accomplishment. The Constitution they drafted has been successful for most of U.S. history in striking the difficult balance between the maintenance of public order and security, on the one hand, and the nurturing and protection of personal liberty, on the other.  And it has brought remarkable stability to one of the most tumultuous forms of political activity: popular democracy. The challenge that all nations in the world have faced not only in drafting a constitution, but also creating a form of government that both provides stability to its nation and sufficient civic responsibility and liberty to its people, is enormous. Indeed, among the more than 150 constitutions presently operating in the world today, few have been as successful in creating that delicate balance between governmental power and personal liberty among the citizens ruled by their government. 

The Launching of a New American Constitution

The remarkable achievement of the fifty-five men gathered in Philadelphia during the summer of 1787 was by no means inevitable.  Looking back on their work that summer, we can identify a few factors that enabled them to achieve their success. Certainly among the most important was the quality of leadership among those most committed to strengthening the American government. The ringleader was the thirty-seven-year-old James Madison. Standing only a few inches over five-feet tall, scrawny, suffering from a combination of poor physical health and hypochondria, and painfully awkward in any public forum, Madison nevertheless possessed a combination of intellect, energy, and political savvy that would mobilize the effort to create an entirely new form of continental union.

Madison was joined in his effort by a group of delegates from Virginia and Pennsylvania who, in a series of meetings before the Convention formally began its business on May 25, combined to concoct a plan not merely to “amend” the Articles of Confederation, but to set the proceedings of the Convention on a far more ambitious course. The first gathering of these reform-minded delegates took place on the evening of May 16, in the home of Benjamin Franklin (where dinner was served in his impressive new dining room along with a “cask of Porter,” which, Franklin reported, received “the most cordial and universal approbation” of all those assembled). The Pennsylvania and Virginia delegates then met frequently during the days leading up to May 25. The presence of Ben Franklin and General George Washington gave the group both dignity and prestige, but it was James Madison, James Wilson and Gouverneur Morris of Pennsylvania who provided much of the intellectual leadership and who shared a commitment to creating a truly “national” government based on the consent of the people, not the individual states. Together these men would forge a radical new plan, the Virginia Plan, which would shape the course of events during that summer of 1787.  

By seizing the initiative, this small group of nationalist-minded politicians was able to set the terms of debate during the initial stages of the Convention—gearing the discussion toward not whether , but how —a vastly strengthened continental government would be constructed. On May 28, 1787, the state delegations unanimously agreed to a proposal that would prove invaluable in allowing men like Madison, Wilson, and Morris to move their plan forward. Importantly, to prevent the “licentious publication of their proceedings,” the delegates agreed to observe a strict rule of secrecy, with “nothing spoken in the house to be printed or otherwise published or communicated.” In our twenty-first century world, this manner of proceeding on a matter of such monumental importance would be instantly rejected as unacceptably pretentious and undemocratic. But the rule of secrecy gave to delegates the freedom to disagree, sometimes vehemently, on important issues, and to do so without the posturing and pandering to public opinion that so often marks political debate today. And it also gave delegates the freedom to change their minds; on many occasion, after an evening of convivial entertainment with one another, the delegates would return the following morning or even the following week or month, and find ways to reach agreement on issues that had previously divided them.  The rule of secrecy helped make the Constitutional Convention a civil and deliberative body, rather than a partisan one. It helped make compromise an attribute of statesmanship rather than a sign of weakness.

As the details of the Virginia Plan came under discussion, it became clear that it was not a mere revision of the Articles of Confederation, but rather a bold plan for an entirely new kind of government—a government with a vastly more powerful “national” legislature and, unlike the Articles of Confederation,  with a powerful chief executive. It also became immediately clear that, however bold and innovative the plan may have been, there were many delegates in the room who had grave misgivings about some aspects of it. For nearly four months, the delegates attempted to work through, and resolve, their disagreements. The most divisive of those issues—those involving the apportionment of representation in the national legislature, the powers and mode of election of the chief executive, and the place of the institution of slavery in the new continental body politic—would change in fundamental  ways the shape of the document that would eventually emerge on September 17, 1787.

The Founding Fathers and Federalism

The delegates haggled over how to apportion representation in the legislature off and on for more than six weeks between May 30 and July 16. Those from large, populous states such as Virginia and Pennsylvania—supporters of the Virginia Plan—argued that representation in both houses of the proposed new congress should be based on population, while those from smaller states such as New Jersey and Delaware—supporters of the New Jersey Plan—argued for equal representation for each state. The compromise that eventually emerged, one championed most energetically by the delegates from Connecticut, was obvious: representation in the House of Representatives would be apportioned according to population, with each state receiving equal representation in the Senate.  In the final vote on the so-called Connecticut Compromise on July 16, five states supported the proposal; four opposed, including Virginia and Pennsylvania; and one state—Massachusetts—was divided. James Madison and many of his nationalist colleagues were disconsolate, convinced that the compromise would destroy the very character of the national government they hoped to create. But in the end, recognizing the folly of allowing their desire for their “perfect” plan to become the enemy of the good, they acceded to the Connecticut Compromise. And, interestingly, during the subsequent popular vote on ratification of the Constitution in the thirteen states, Madison would use his “defeat” in the controversy over representation to fashion an entirely new definition of federalism. In The Federalist No. 39 he defended the proposed new Constitution against its critics by praising the different modes of representation in the House and Senate—with the House representing the people of the nation at large and the Senate representing the residual sovereignty of the states—as one of the features that made the new government “part national” and “part federal.” No one at that time knew how that new definition of federalism would work in practice, and it would remain a source of contention for the rest of the nation’s history, including today. In this, as in so many areas, the so-called original meaning of the Constitution was not at all self-evident— even to the Framers of the Constitution themselves.

Creating an American President

The debate among the delegates over the nature of the American presidency was more high- toned and more protracted than that over representation in the Congress. At one extreme, nationalists like James Wilson and Gouverneur Morris argued forcefully for a strong, independent executive capable of giving “energy, dispatch, and responsibility” to the government. They urged their fellow delegates to give the president an absolute veto over congressional legislation. At the other end of the spectrum, Roger Sherman, a plainly dressed, plainspoken delegate from Connecticut who would prove to be one of the most influential members of the Convention, spoke for many delegates when he declared that the “Executive magistracy” was “nothing more than an institution for carrying the will of the Legislature into effect.” This led Sherman to the conclusion that the president should be removable from office “at pleasure” any time a majority in the legislature disagreed with him on an important issue. In the end, it was compromise that once again won the day—the delegates agreed to give the President a limited veto power, but one which could be over-ridden by a vote of two-thirds of both houses of Congress.

Most of the delegates initially thought that the executive should be elected by the national legislature; still others thought the executive should be elected by the state legislatures or even by the governors of the states. James Wilson was virtually the only delegate who proposed direct election of the president by the people. He believed that it was only through some form of popular election that the executive branch could be given both energy and independence. But realizing that his idea of popular election of the president was gaining no favor, Wilson proposed a compromise by which the President would be elected by a group of “electors” chosen either by the state legislatures or by the people of their individual states. The delegates didn’t like that proposal any more than they liked his proposal for direct popular election, voting it down overwhelmingly at that point. They voted against some version of the proposal on numerous occasions between early June and early September of 1787, only agreeing to the version contained in our modern Constitution (modified slightly by the Twelfth Amendment) grudgingly and out of a sense of desperation, as the least problematic of the alternatives before them.

It has often been observed that the Framers’ difficulty in deciding how to elect the president was the result of their misgivings about democracy—their fear that the people of the nation could not be trusted to make a wise choice for their chief executive. In fact, it was not so much that America’s Founding Fathers distrusted the inherent intelligence of the people but, rather, that they had a realistic concern about the provincialism of the people of the thirteen “independent” states. America’s vast landscape, the poor state of its communications, and the diversity of its cultural character and economic interests would make it extremely difficult for any single candidate for chief executive to gain a majority of the popular vote. There was one obvious exception to this—General George Washington, sitting in the front of the Assembly Room as President of the Convention—but aside from America’s hero, how could a voter in Georgia know the merits of a candidate in New York, or vice versa? The other obvious solution—election by members of a national Congress whose perspective was likely to be continental rather than provincial—was ultimately rejected because of the problems it created with respect to the doctrine of separation of powers: the president, it was feared, would be overly beholden to, and therefore dependent upon, the Congress for his election. The creation of an electoral college was a middle ground, and while many delegates feared that locally-selected presidential electors would be subject to the same sort of provincial thinking as ordinary citizens, they reluctantly came to the conclusion that it was the best they could do while still preserving an adequate separation of power between the executive and legislative branches. It was a highly imperfect solution to a real problem, but, in the context of the times—perhaps until today—there may well have been no better alternative.

The Founding Fathers and Slavery

The delegates’ commitment to principles of equality as articulated in the Declaration of Independence was, even in the case of free white adult males, a limited one. For example, most of the delegates supported the imposition of property qualifications for voters in their individual states. But nowhere are those limitations more obvious than during the debates relating to the subject of slavery. In 1787, slavery in America was in a state of decline, but it remained a significant part of the social and economic fabric in five of the states represented in the Convention. In their quest for “compromise,” the delegates exacerbated the existing contradiction in their nation regarding the core values of liberty and equality on which America had declared its independence. Indeed, they enshrined the institution of slavery within their new Constitution.

Although neither the word “slave” nor “slavery” is mentioned anywhere in the body of the Constitution, contention over slavery pervaded the Convention’s debates. It was impossible to discuss questions relating to the apportionment of representation without confronting the fact that the slave population of the South—whether conceived of as residents or property—would affect the calculations for representation. The delegates argued about the proper formula for how to “count” slaves through much of the summer. The final resolution of that issue—the Three-Fifths Compromise, a formula by which slaves would be counted as three-fifths of a person in apportioning both representation and taxation—was a purely mechanical and amoral calculation designed to produce harmony among conflicting interests within the Convention. As many disgruntled delegates pointed out, it had little basis either in logic or morality, but in the end, the need for a consensus on the issue, however fragile that compromise might be, outweighed all other considerations.

The debate over the future of the international slave trade was in many respects even more depressing than that which culminated in the Three-Fifths Compromise. Only the delegates from South Carolina and Georgia were determined to continue what most other delegates believed to be an iniquitous trade, yet their insistence that the trade continue for at least another twenty years carried the day. However troubled delegates from the other states may have been, their concern for harmony within the Convention was much stronger than their concern for the fate of those Africans whose lives and labor would be sacrificed by the continuation of the slave trade. Between 1788 and 1808 the number of African slaves imported into the United States exceeded 200,000, only about 50,000 fewer than the total number of slaves imported to America in the preceding 170 years!

Finally, the delegates adopted without dissent a provision requiring that any “Person held to Service or Labour in one State . . . [and] escaping into another, . . . shall be delivered up on Claim of the Party to whom such Service or Labour may be due.” By means of that tortured language, and without mentioning either the word “slaves” or “slavery,” the delegates made a fugitive-slave clause an integral part of our federal compact. It was the one act of the Convention that not only signaled the delegates’ grudging acceptance of slavery but also made the states that had moved either to abolish or gradually eliminate slavery in the aftermath of the Revolution actively complicit in their support of that institution.

The Absence of a Bill of Rights

On September 12, just five days before the Convention was to adjourn, George Mason, the author of the Virginia Declaration of Rights, proposed that the nearly-completed draft of the Constitution be “prefaced with a Bill of Rights.” It would, he said, “give great quiet to the people.” But the delegates did not embrace Mason’s proposal; indeed, when the matter was put to a vote, not a single state delegation supported Mason’s proposal. That decision would prove to be one of the most serious mistakes made by the men who drafted the Constitution. When Thomas Jefferson—then serving as ambassador to France—received a copy of the completed Constitution from James Madison, he was unable to contain his unhappiness at the absence of a bill of rights. “The omission of a bill of rights, providing clearly and without the aid of sophisms, for freedom of religion, freedom of the press, protection against standing armies, restriction against monopolies, the eternal and unremitting force of the habeas corpus laws, and trials by jury in all matters,” was, Jefferson wrote in dismay to his friend, a grievous error.

When the final draft of the Constitution was submitted to the people of the states for their approval, the absence of a bill of rights quickly emerged as one of the most serious objections to the proposed plan of union.  If many of the supporters of the Constitution subsequently had not promised that they would quickly work to add a bill of rights to the Constitution once the new government commenced operation, it is likely that the document would have failed to gain the approval of the nine states necessary for its ratification. Fortunately, the First Federal Congress of the new government of the United States fulfilled that promise, and in one of its first actions added that bill of rights, making the “more perfect union” devised by the Framers still more perfect. Ironically, the person who took the lead in drafting a bill of rights in the first Congress was James Madison, who had opposed adding a bill of rights not only during the Convention, but also during the debate over ratification in his state of Virginia.  

Nor was that the only occasion when the American people, acting through their representatives both in Congress and in their states, sought to further perfect the American union. “We the People” have added another seventeen amendments to the Constitution after the addition of the original bill of rights. The United States Constitution, which initially consisted of some 4,500 words on four parchments pages, is now a document with nearly 8,000 words, some of which advance the notion of equality not only for former slaves through the Reconstruction Amendments enacted after the Civil War, but also for women through the Nineteenth Amendment of 1920. 

“Approaching So Near to Perfection”

As the Convention prepared to adjourn, the delegates were hardly of one mind about many of the specifics of the Constitution they had created. But whatever their differences, nearly all of the them, true to their revolutionary heritage, had tried to create a government of limited powers which nevertheless had the requisite “energy” to do all the things promised in the Constitution’s preamble: “to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty.” This was a tall order, especially when they were pledging at the same time to create a government that divided power between the states and the nation in such a way as to allay people’s fears of an overbearing central power. As the delegates made their decisions about whether to sign the Constitution on September 17, 1787, there was little certainty among them about how this balancing act would work in practice, but they had at least made a start in creating a framework within which issues of state and national power could be negotiated.

On that final day of the Constitutional Convention, it was left to the Convention’s oldest delegate, eighty-one-year-old Benjamin Franklin, to sum up the nearly four months of debate, disagreement, and occasional outbursts of ill temper that had marked the proceedings of that summer. Franklin observed that whenever “you assemble a number of men to have the advantage of their joint wisdom, you inevitably assemble with those men all their prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and their selfish views. From such an assembly can a perfect production be expected?” The wonder of it all, Franklin asserted, was that the delegates had managed to create a system of government “approaching so near to perfection as it does.”

Franklin acknowledged that there were “several parts of this Constitution which I do not at present approve,” but, he added, “the older I grow the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment and pay more respect to the judgment of others.” Franklin concluded by asking each of his fellow delegates to “doubt a little of his own infallibility” and step forward to sign the Constitution. In that spirit of humility, thirty-nine of the forty-two delegates present on that last day would take that important step forward and, in the process, move America one step forward in achieving a “more perfect Union.” If there is any one lesson that American citizens, and their political representatives, might most profitably learn from the Framers of the Constitution, it is that injunction from the sagacious Dr. Franklin: our own body politic would function more effectively, and with a greater degree of civility, if all of us could occasionally put aside our own sense of “infallibility” and engage in the political process with the same spirit of compromise that guided the Founding Fathers of 1787. 

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7.4 The Constitutional Convention and Federal Constitution

Learning objectives.

By the end of this section, you will be able to:

• Identify the central issues of the 1787 Constitutional Convention and their solutions
• Describe the conflicts over the ratification of the federal constitution

The economic problems that plagued the thirteen states of the Confederation set the stage for the creation of a strong central government under a federal constitution. Although the original purpose of the convention was to amend the Articles of Confederation, some—though not all—delegates moved quickly to create a new framework for a more powerful national government. This proved extremely controversial. Those who attended the convention split over the issue of robust, centralized government and questions of how Americans would be represented in the federal government. Those who opposed the proposal for a stronger federal government argued that such a plan betrayed the Revolution by limiting the voice of the American people.

THE CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION

There had been earlier efforts to address the Confederation’s perilous state. In early 1786, Virginia’s James Madison advocated a meeting of states to address the widespread economic problems that plagued the new nation. Heeding Madison’s call, the legislature in Virginia invited all thirteen states to meet in Annapolis, Maryland, to work on solutions to the issue of commerce between the states. Eight states responded to the invitation. But the resulting 1786 Annapolis Convention failed to provide any solutions because only five states sent delegates. These delegates did, however, agree to a plan put forward by Alexander Hamilton for a second convention to meet in May 1787 in Philadelphia. Shays’ Rebellion gave greater urgency to the planned convention. In February 1787, in the wake of the uprising in western Massachusetts, the Confederation Congress authorized the Philadelphia convention. This time, all the states except Rhode Island sent delegates to Philadelphia to confront the problems of the day.

The stated purpose of the Philadelphia Convention in 1787 was to amend the Articles of Confederation. Very quickly, however, the attendees decided to create a new framework for a national government. That framework became the United States Constitution, and the Philadelphia convention became known as the Constitutional Convention of 1787. Fifty-five men met in Philadelphia in secret; historians know of the proceedings only because James Madison kept careful notes of what transpired. The delegates knew that what they were doing would be controversial; Rhode Island refused to send delegates, and New Hampshire’s delegates arrived late. Two delegates from New York, Robert Yates and John Lansing, left the convention when it became clear that the Articles were being put aside and a new plan of national government was being drafted. They did not believe the delegates had the authority to create a strong national government.

Click and Explore

Read “Reasons for Dissent from the Proposed Constitution” in order to understand why Robert Yates and John Lansing, New York’s delegates to the 1787 Philadelphia Convention, didn’t believe the convention should draft a new plan of national government.

THE QUESTION OF REPRESENTATION

One issue that the delegates in Philadelphia addressed was the way in which representatives to the new national government would be chosen. Would individual citizens be able to elect representatives? Would representatives be chosen by state legislatures? How much representation was appropriate for each state?

James Madison put forward a proposition known as the Virginia Plan , which called for a strong national government that could overturn state laws ( Figure 7.15 ). The plan featured a bicameral or two-house legislature, with an upper and a lower house. The people of the states would elect the members of the lower house, whose numbers would be determined by the population of the state. State legislatures would send delegates to the upper house. The number of representatives in the upper chamber would also be based on the state’s population. This proportional representation gave the more populous states, like Virginia, more political power. The Virginia Plan also called for an executive branch and a judicial branch, both of which were absent under the Articles of Confederation. The lower and upper house together were to appoint members to the executive and judicial branches. Under this plan, Virginia, the most populous state, would dominate national political power and ensure its interests, including slavery, would be safe.

The Virginia Plan’s call for proportional representation alarmed the representatives of the smaller states. William Paterson introduced a New Jersey Plan to counter Madison’s scheme, proposing that all states have equal votes in a unicameral national legislature. He also addressed the economic problems of the day by calling for the Congress to have the power to regulate commerce, to raise revenue though taxes on imports and through postage, and to enforce Congressional requisitions from the states.

Roger Sherman from Connecticut offered a compromise to break the deadlock over the thorny question of representation. His Connecticut Compromise , also known as the Great Compromise, outlined a different bicameral legislature in which the upper house, the Senate, would have equal representation for all states; each state would be represented by two senators chosen by the state legislatures. Only the lower house, the House of Representatives, would have proportional representation.

THE QUESTION OF SLAVERY

The question of slavery stood as a major issue at the Constitutional Convention because slaveholders wanted enslaved residents to be counted along with White people, termed “free inhabitants,” when determining a state’s total population. This, in turn, would augment the number of representatives accorded to those states in the lower house. Some northerners, however, such as New York’s Gouverneur Morris, hated slavery and did not even want the term included in the new national plan of government. Slaveholders argued that slavery imposed great burdens upon them and that, because they carried this liability, they deserved special consideration; enslaved people needed to be counted for purposes of representation.

The issue of counting or not counting enslaved people for purposes of representation connected directly to the question of taxation. Beginning in 1775, the Second Continental Congress asked states to pay for war by collecting taxes and sending the tax money to the Congress. The amount each state had to deliver in tax revenue was determined by a state’s total population, including both free and enslaved individuals. States routinely fell far short of delivering the money requested by Congress under the plan. In April 1783, the Confederation Congress amended the earlier system of requisition by having the enslaved population count as three-fifths of the White population. In this way, slaveholders gained a significant tax break. The delegates in Philadelphia adopted this same three-fifths formula in the summer of 1787.

Under the three-fifths compromise in the 1787 Constitution, three out of every five enslaved people would be counted when determining a state's population. Article 1, Section 2 stipulated that “Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several states . . . according to their respective Number, which shall be determined by adding to the whole number of free Persons, including those bound for service for a Term of Years [White servants], and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other persons.” Since representation in the House of Representatives was based on the population of a state, the three-fifths compromise gave extra political power to slave states, although not as much as if the total population, both free and enslaved, had been used. Significantly, no direct federal income tax was immediately imposed. (The Sixteenth Amendment, ratified in 1913, put in place a federal income tax.) Northerners agreed to the three-fifths compromise because the Northwest Ordinance of 1787, passed by the Confederation Congress, banned slavery in the future states of the northwest. Northern delegates felt this ban balanced political power between states with enslaved people and those without. The three-fifths compromise gave an advantage to slaveholders; they added three-fifths of their human property to their state’s population, allowing them to send representatives based in part on the number of people they enslaved.

THE QUESTION OF DEMOCRACY

Many of the delegates to the Constitutional Convention had serious reservations about democracy, which they believed promoted anarchy. To allay these fears, the Constitution blunted democratic tendencies that appeared to undermine the republic. Thus, to avoid giving the people too much direct power, the delegates made certain that senators were chosen by the state legislatures, not elected directly by the people (direct elections of senators came with the Seventeenth Amendment to the Constitution, ratified in 1913). As an additional safeguard, the delegates created the Electoral College , the mechanism for choosing the president. Under this plan, each state has a certain number of electors, which is its number of senators (two) plus its number of representatives in the House of Representatives. Critics, then as now, argue that this process prevents the direct election of the president.

THE FIGHT OVER RATIFICATION

The draft constitution was finished in September 1787. The delegates decided that in order for the new national government to be implemented, each state must first hold a special ratifying convention. When nine of the thirteen had approved the plan, the constitution would go into effect.

When the American public learned of the new constitution, opinions were deeply divided, but most people were opposed. To salvage their work in Philadelphia, the architects of the new national government began a campaign to sway public opinion in favor of their blueprint for a strong central government. In the fierce debate that erupted, the two sides articulated contrasting visions of the American republic and of democracy. Supporters of the 1787 Constitution, known as Federalists , made the case that a centralized republic provided the best solution for the future. Those who opposed it, known as Anti-Federalists , argued that the Constitution would consolidate all power in a national government, robbing the states of the power to make their own decisions. To them, the Constitution appeared to mimic the old corrupt and centralized British regime, under which a far-off government made the laws. Anti-Federalists argued that wealthy aristocrats would run the new national government, and that the elite would not represent ordinary citizens; the rich would monopolize power and use the new government to formulate policies that benefited their class—a development that would also undermine local state elites. They also argued that the Constitution did not contain a bill of rights.

New York’s ratifying convention illustrates the divide between the Federalists and Anti-Federalists. When one Anti-Federalist delegate named Melancton Smith took issue with the scheme of representation as being too limited and not reflective of the people, Alexander Hamilton responded:

It has been observed by an honorable gentleman [Smith], that a pure democracy, if it were practicable, would be the most perfect government. Experience has proven, that no position in politics is more false than this. The ancient democracies, in which the people themselves deliberated, never possessed one feature of good government. Their very character was tyranny; their figure deformity: When they assembled, the field of debate presented an ungovernable mob, not only incapable of deliberation, but prepared for every enormity. In these assemblies, the enemies of the people brought forward their plans of ambition systematically. They were opposed by their enemies of another party; and it became a matter of contingency, whether the people subjected themselves to be led blindly by one tyrant or by another.

The Federalists, particularly John Jay, Alexander Hamilton, and James Madison, put their case to the public in a famous series of essays known as The Federalist Papers . These were first published in New York and subsequently republished elsewhere in the United States.

Defining American

James madison on the benefits of republicanism.

The tenth essay in The Federalist Papers , often called Federalist No. 10, is one of the most famous. Written by James Madison ( Figure 7.16 ), it addresses the problems of political parties (“factions”). Madison argued that there were two approaches to solving the problem of political parties: a republican government and a democracy. He argued that a large republic provided the best defense against what he viewed as the tumult of direct democracy. Compromises would be reached in a large republic and citizens would be represented by representatives of their own choosing.

From this view of the subject, it may be concluded, that a pure Democracy, by which I mean a Society consisting of a small number of citizens, who assemble and administer the Government in person, can admit of no cure for the mischiefs of faction. A common passion or interest will, in almost every case, be felt by a majority of the whole; a communication and concert result from the form of Government itself; and there is nothing to check the inducements to sacrifice the weaker party, or an obnoxious individual. Hence it is, that such Democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security, or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives, as they have been violent in their deaths. Theoretic politicians, who have patronized this species of Government, have erroneously supposed, that by reducing mankind to a perfect equality in their political rights, they would, at the same time, be perfectly equalized and assimilated in their possessions, their opinions, and their passions. A Republic, by which I mean a Government in which the scheme of representation takes place, opens a different prospect, and promises the cure for which we are seeking. Let us examine the points in which it varies from pure Democracy, and we shall comprehend both the nature of the cure, and the efficacy which it must derive from the Union. The two great points of difference, between a Democracy and a Republic, are, first, the delegation of the Government, in the latter, to a small number of citizens elected by the rest: Secondly, the greater number of citizens, and greater sphere of country, over which the latter may be extended.

Does Madison recommend republicanism or democracy as the best form of government? What arguments does he use to prove his point?

Read the full text of Federalist No. 10 at Yale Law School’s Avalon Project. What do you think are Madison’s most and least compelling arguments? How would different members of the new United States view his arguments?

Including all the state ratifying conventions around the country, a total of fewer than two thousand men voted on whether to adopt the new plan of government. In the end, the Constitution only narrowly won approval ( Figure 7.17 ). In New York, the vote was thirty in favor to twenty-seven opposed. In Massachusetts, the vote to approve was 187 to 168, and some claim supporters of the Constitution resorted to bribes in order to ensure approval. Virginia ratified by a vote of eighty-nine to seventy-nine, and Rhode Island by thirty-four to thirty-two. The opposition to the Constitution reflected the fears that a new national government, much like the British monarchy, created too much centralized power and, as a result, deprived citizens in the various states of the ability to make their own decisions.

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How Germany is phasing out lignite: insights from the Coal Commission and local communities

• Jörg Radtke   ORCID: orcid.org/0000-0002-6540-8096 1 &
• Martin David   ORCID: orcid.org/0000-0002-7982-3127 2  

Energy, Sustainability and Society volume  14 , Article number:  7 ( 2024 ) Cite this article

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This article asks the following question: how well are coal regions, affected by phase-out plans, represented in mediating commissions, to what extent do local communities participate in the decision-making process and how are the political negotiations perceived by the communities? We look at the case of the German lignite phase-out from a procedural justice perspective. Informed by literature on sociotechnical decline and procedural justice in energy transitions, we focus first on aspects of representation, participation and recognition within the German Commission on Growth, Structural Change and Employment (“Coal Commission”). Second, we analyze how to exnovate coal in two regions closely tied to the coal- and lignite-based energy history in Germany: Lusatia and the Rhenish Mining District.

Based on interview series in both regions, we connect insights from local communities with strategies for structural change and participation programs in the regions. We find significant differences between the two regions, which is primarily an effect of the challenging historical experiences in Lusatia. Participation within existing arrangements is not sufficient to solve these problems; they require a comprehensive strategy for the future of the regions.

Conclusions

We conclude that the first phase-out process was a lost opportunity to initiate a community-inclusive sustainable transition process. As the phase-out process is not yet concluded, additional efforts and new strategies are needed to resolve the wicked problem of lignite phase-out.

Introduction: justice, recognition and the representation of public interest in the German coal phase-out

Studies have examined defossilization or decarbonization from a distributional or intergenerational justice perspective [ 1 , 2 ]. This article adds a procedural justice perspective to the question of deliberate sociotechnical decline [ 3 ].

The literature has delved into the ways in which the state can promote more sustainable living [ 4 ], particularly concerning energy resources [ 5 ]. An essential question revolves around the legitimacy of state structures in determining the design and sustainability of public goods, such as electricity production [ 6 , 7 , 8 ]. In the deployment of renewable energy technologies [ 9 , 10 , 11 , 12 ], the legitimacy question has been examined from the procedural justice perspective. Here, we use the perspective to analyze the German coal phase-out process and its implications for affected local communities.

Lignite is a distinctive incumbent fossil fuel that cannot be stored and must be burned for electricity and heat [ 13 ]. This practice is widespread in Germany, notably in the Rhenish Mining District (West Germany) and in Lusatia (East Germany), two regions whose economies are based on lignite mining. Transitions away from lignite will significantly alter local conditions, but coal phase-out takes precedence from an environmental standpoint, given that the combustion of lignite is more detrimental than that of hard coal.

We analyze the Coal Commission's work from 2018 to 2019, considering the anticipations for it and reactions to it, as well as development programs and strategies developed from it for the affected regions. We consider decarbonization in the years following the Commission’s work, which allows us to evaluate this key pillar in Germany's climate strategy [ 14 , 15 , 16 ]. The Commission aimed to balance the interests of different regions, communities, and stakeholders in the lignite phase-out, a challenge when the main lignite mining regions, Rhineland and Lusatia, are economically weak and chronically lack qualified workers [ 17 , 18 , 19 ]. We analyze how the Commission`s decisions are perceived and evaluated by citizens and stakeholders in the mining regions, comparing the representation of interests and the participation of stakeholders, as well as conflicts and controversies in the two regions, leading to three research questions:

Representation of affected regions: how did the affected regions react to the decisions to phase out coal; how was equal representation of interests achieved (or not)?

Participation of local communities: which participation processes can be found in the two regions; how are they conceptualized, and do they deliver procedural justice?

Conflict and controversy about the phase-out process: what controversies arose and how well could conflicts be solved during and after the process of decision-making?

Through these questions, we can present in detail how state intervention affects procedural justice in (former) German coal regions by studying how people's representation in the Coal Commission's decision-making processes was (or was not) enabled.

Framework: procedural justice and social representation in processes of deliberate sociotechnical decline

Sociotechnical discontinuation and procedural justice.

We use “sociotechnical discontinuation” to mean leaving unsustainable energy practices through exnovation and phase-out policies [ 20 ]. This involves procedural justice, which requires energy systems be “clean, efficient and affordable” [[ 21 ], p. 2541] and meet other criteria [ 22 , 23 , 24 , 25 ]. However, as technology transition is controversial and creates winners and losers [ 3 ], procedural justice also concerns the quality of legal and political processes [ 9 , 13 ], including those related to sociotechnical decline [ 10 ]. We focus on three aspects of procedural justice: representation, participation, and conflict resolution.

Representation

We discuss two aspects of social representation in lignite phase-out. One is the influence of experts, policy makers and administrators on technological design [ 26 , 27 ]. We examine how the Commission excluded a specific technology from the discussion and focused on the phase-out. The second aspect is the reactions of local inhabitants and Commission representatives to technology implementation [ 12 ]. We use the concepts of participation, equality, fairness and information provision to analyze representation in the decision-making process [ 28 , 29 , 30 , 31 , 32 ]. We also consider how inequality and injustice are embedded in the cultural politics of coal [ 33 ].

Intentional participation

We consider how social representation and procedural justice affect participation in political processes related to climate and energy. We examine two questions: “Who” influences these policies and “How” they are decided. The first question concerns representation of different actors and interests [ 34 ], while the second question concerns the quality and impact of participation processes [ 31 ].

Conflict and sociotechnical controversy

To reach balanced negotiations, local actors and knowledge are essential [ 35 , 36 ]. Therefore, the phase-out agenda of measures and strategies should consider the community's inequalities, power relations and diversities [ 37 ]. Recognition justice is also important, meaning that communities' perspectives and input are valued and included in decision-making [ 30 , 31 , 38 ].

As a third party, the Coal Commission was established to find a legitimized, long-term strategy for the coal phase-out in Germany. However, how does the policy instrument actually play out in managing conflicts? We look at political resistance that arises against new economic (infra)structures. We consider what happens when disputes or human rights violations arise.

Methodology

We used a mixed methods design with secondary data (newspaper and research articles) and interviews. We reviewed literature on procedural justice, participation and societal conflict related to sociotechnical decline. Based on this, we searched multiple databases (Scopus, Google Scholar, Web of Science) for studies on coal phase-out in Lusatia and the Rhine regions before and after the 2013 coalition government introduced a mediating Commission. We selected 22 relevant studies: 14 on the Rhine region and 12 on Lusatia (see Table 6 in the appendix). We coded our material using MAXQDA software according to representation, participation, and conflict. We compared the expectations and outcomes of the Commission’s decision from different stakeholder perspectives before ( n  = 59) the decision and after ( n  = 59). This helped us identify gaps in the Commission’s procedural design.

We also interviewed 25 people from Lusatia and the Rhenish Mining District in 2020 ( n  = 13) and 2021 ( n  = 12) and held an online workshop in 2020 with 9 energy justice experts from academia and local governments (see Tables 7 and 8 in the appendix). They included representatives of the federal and local government ( n  = 8), political parties ( n  = 4), civil organizations ( n  = 9), companies and media ( n  = 4). We used a semi-structured interview to assess knowledge, interpretations and perspectives on the local conflict and the energy transition. We transcribed and coded the interviews (see Table 9 in the appendix). This validated our research and enriched our analysis of procedural justice in the Rhenish and Lusatian coal phase-out regions.

Results: a procedural justice perspective on the German Coal Commission’s decision on lignite phase-outs in Lusatia and the Rhine region

The federal government announced the Coal Commission 5 years before it decided on burden-sharing for regions affected by the lignite phase-out. The Commission became public in 2014 when the German Climate Action Plan 2050 confirmed the coal and lignite phase-out [ 39 ]. In 2017, Germany’s Federal Ministry for Economic Affairs and Energy proposed a Commission to facilitate a just phase-out [ 40 ]. The Commission's work faced a dispute over a Rhenish forest threatened by coal mining, which was later saved ("Hambach Forest"). This conflict dominated news in 2018 and determined the Commission's agenda [ 41 , 42 , 43 , 44 , 45 ].

The Commission's recommendations were adopted and included in the Structural Reinforcement Act for Mining Regions (2020) together with the coal phase-out law that set 2038 as the final date. Lignite-mining areas will receive up to €14 billion in financial aid until 2038 for especially important investments facilitating their structural change [ 23 , 46 ]. These investments should target expansion of renewable energies and establishment of innovative start-ups and research institutes.

The Lusatian perspective

The interviewees reported that the coal phase-out has become a big issue. While easily overlooked at first, now it is:

"ultimately a matter of somehow implementing this coal phase-out, because we are, after all, an opencast mining region. For most of the population, they have grown up with coal, it has been a tradition here for decades. It is a cultural asset and also something that people identify positively with. After German reunification, the whole economy collapsed in Lusatia and tens of thousands, I think 40,000 jobs were lost here in Lusatia in the coal industry. So really incredibly many".

Coal is Lusatia's traditional livelihood. Companies recently created 1.3 billion euros in sales and 8000 jobs, plus 16,000 indirect jobs. About 75,000 people depend on coal—out of 200,000 residents. One respondent said, "This is our livelihood," explaining why a third of the population supports coal. There is no big-city environmental awareness: "Your environmental thought is not wrong, but please do not touch my livelihood!".

The first structural change in Lusatia took place in 1990 in the coal industry, 100,000 employees lost their jobs, now there are only 8000. The mass layoffs led many to leave the region, which has shaped the culture. Being a miner was associated with pride. Proud older miners could not be blamed for destroying the environment and being "criminals." Conflicts were therefore inevitable due to young activists. Structural change therefore took place much earlier, "only nobody talked about it in such a big way." The older people therefore say: "Yes, we've been through all this before and now it's all coming back!". One interviewee, who himself worked in the coal mine, reported that it was a matter of self-esteem:

“I experienced another ten years in the GDR era and then the post-reunification period, and if you've experienced how quickly something like that can happen, that an entire industry that had existed for centuries dies, then you can perhaps understand why I thought about it. There is still ‘German unity trauma’. People are incredibly afraid that when the coal phase-out comes, this German unity trauma will repeat itself and suddenly a whole lot of people will become unemployed and the region will collapse and ‘then it's all over.’ This fear is extremely great.”

The respondents are afraid of higher prices and inflation, which would have increased the worries even more if the jobs in the coal industry disappear and the added value in the region decreases. The question then arises, ‘Has this really brought us anything positive now?

The coal industry pays high salaries and pensions, attracting people and benefiting the work-life balance. The money stays in the region, boosting consumption and orders. Therefore, employees say "We can't get out of coal! You are destroying our communities and jobs". The fear persists, "What will happen to us if we lose our main economic sector?" Some cities lost two-thirds of their residents after German unification. Many young people left the region in the 1990s due to lack of jobs and high unemployment. That was the central experience after 1990.

Almost every interviewee told us that every structural change leads to mass unemployment, to social upheaval. In other words, the phase-out really does have consequences for people's personal lives. Most interviewed persons in Lusatia do not want that anymore and they do not trust the government to make the structural change smooth, i.e., without these distortions that they experienced after 1990.

Coal was synonymous with the state in GDR times. The GDR made the region a coal region. Coal had a majestic and omnipresent effect. The GDR needed electricity, the GDR needed heat, and Lusatia was the only region where that could come from. The awareness of having been the energy region of the GDR still spurs a sense of pride; the entire economic structure of the region had been shaped by coal, and many people had moved there because of the good jobs and the region's good facilities. The state government, led by the Social Democrats for 30 years, supported the coal industry. The prime minister was also the chairman of the lignite committee and a de facto coal lobbyist. This link between mining and politics has lasted since the 70s and 80s and still exists today. The regional mining company LEAG sponsors many things in the region, and investments have been made in social measures.

One interviewee working in the civil society sector sums up the overall picture: “Mining and the energy industry have existed for over 100 years. And you can't just end an industry like that, especially since there's still enough coal. So, the coal would last until 2058”.

In GDR times, the coal industry would have heavily polluted the air and damaged the environment, with coal dust everywhere. After reunification, coal became cleaner and people felt problems were solved. In the 2000s, the region stabilized, but the phase-out deadline does not give enough time for a deep structural change ("they will definitely not be enough"). However, the region has labor potential and can develop new value chains. Measures can be taken in good time, as one politician describes: “Founding rescue companies, finding bridging paths, creating transition paths from one industry to another, from one job to another”.

The coal industry paid for everything, so there were swimming pools and there were shopping malls and there were cinemas and everything was better, it had a higher standard than was otherwise so common in the GDR and even in retrospect, the coal industry solved all the problems. There was no broad middle-class industry like in West Germany, where there are several companies that form the economic backbone of the region, and then people continued to cling to this wrong structure after reunification.

One interviewed politician outlined the specific narrative of experiences in East Germans in the past: “People now have the feeling that a lot is breaking away, that it's like a religion. They could not imagine what it was like to live without it. Young people left the region after 1990, millions of them, especially well-educated people. For this reason, it is not enough to simply provide money, because you need local people with whom you can implement structural change”. He concludes, that only an upgrade of rural areas could be the key for the transformation: “Therefore, the attractiveness of the region must be greatly increased, otherwise no one will come there. This is more successful in other eastern German regions because they can sell themselves better and have developed their own identity. A change in perception is therefore needed; people have to want to come here. And for that they have to get to know the region, for that they have to get to know the potentials and those have to be right in their stage of life. Then I believe this region has a very great potential."

Other respondents were in favor of the specific phase-out date, because they could be prepared for it. But had a referendum been held, it would have rejected the phase-out out of habit, routine, uncertainty, and fear. The Commission's preparation and decision changed the regional debate on climate change and coal use. The 14 billion euros for the regions also helped.

However, the coal phase-out law also established various adjustments and bridge payments for employees, causing envy among workers in other industries. One former coal worker describes the individual perspective of sorrows: “And that's really what it's all about”, he says, that people are very concerned, "Will I continue to find good work here, and will that work pay well?" He gives an example of a police academy being established as an alternative, but "an excavator operator is not going to be able to teach police students. If I had a job like that in the coal, I might cling to that, too". Another politician underlined this fear-of-loss argument: “It is not so much about the living conditions, because they are good in Lusatia. New settlements could be built thanks to payments from the energy companies as compensation for villages that had to make way for open-cast mining. It is the fear of unemployment, poverty, weaker purchasing power or that the region will die out because then everyone will move away. The job opportunities are very limited in the region”.

There is a very high level of dissatisfaction among young people, one politician said, because they do not know how to plan their lives in the future: "Will I build a house in Lusatia now, for example? Or do I have to deal with leaving the region now, as I did in the early 1990s?" However, other interviewees report that many people now want to move to the countryside, some accepting a further commute from Berlin and being able to purchase inexpensive land. A new planned rail connection with a high-speed train could strengthen this effect in the future.

From the perspective of local representatives, the coal phase-out is only one struggle based on another challenges. One mayor states that the coal phase-out has a "punch" that has to do with the images of the transformation process. The mayor also says that demographic change is a decisive factor. Based on the fears of the population, this resulted in the slogan "We don't want the coal phase-out. Coal has always brought us prosperity." This is an easy narrative, he said, because after all, it requires a lot of knowledge and also a lot of preoccupation with looking at other options. "It's always easier to say let's keep it that way".

Another mayor in Lusatia addressed the question of awareness: “The point is, to know a problem on paper is one thing, but to have it constantly in front of your eyes and to understand it as a problem is something else. You can have such a problem in front of your eyes and because you don't want mining to have negative consequences, then the problem is suppressed, it is simply negated and you don't act and of course you don't question it”.

Most respondents think the population is divided on the coal phase-out. Coal supporters blame politics and demand compensation from those forcing the chance. The state governments claim they are in need of money and are using restructuring funds for unrelated investments.

What are the attitudes in the population towards coal use? One respondent states that “out of 100 residents, about 20 people are very active in the coal debate, of which 15 argue strongly in favor and 5 strongly against”. Respondents report that the right-wing populist party resonates with its position against coal phase-out, but this does not reach younger people. There had been an "absolute clinging to coal", but more and more a rethinking is setting in as well. The anti-coal phase-out position went down well with the population, because people are so unsettled and are also directly affected by the phase-out. That stokes fears, the respondent said, and then all someone has to do is say: "We're the victims here! And all people can agree with that. For these positions, you get votes accordingly”.

Several interviewees report that the consequences are more immense than is apparent at first glance: the death of the industries also means a loss of revenue for the municipalities (for example, more than 100 million euros in trade taxes have already had to be paid back to an energy company). In addition, there is a serious groundwater problem, because mining takes a lot of water and at the same time pollutes water bodies. However, the demographic change is considered by interviewed politicians to be much more threatening than the coal phase-out, because the population is aging and young people are leaving the region (the city of Spremberg has shrunk from 28,000 to 22,000 inhabitants). The coal phase-out would need to be socially acceptable, so that no one would suddenly become unemployed. Fears stem from the unclear future and the unknown success of the structural change. Young people with loans now worry about paying them later. However, the region still has attractions: "We have sports clubs, cultural clubs; and we have social clubs. Subsidies are available.”

The political process was reconstructed by some politicians in our interviews. A local working group ("Lusatia Roundtable") was key to changing the region’s mood. "Now half of the people support the coal phase-out. It was different before." The city council used to criticize the federal government's decisions and ideas to phase out coal. A mayor thinks that without a citizen movement to support the phase-out, the mood would have remained hostile.

Two interviewees were on the Coal Commission. One member faced the enormous challenge of the energy transition, yet despite her concerns as a regional representative, she supported the coal phase-out: “If it hadn't been for the pressure, with an open pit mine on our doorstep and a power plant, which has brought in good business taxes for decades, would we have done it on our own?”.

The member also revealed that in the negotiations, the Lusatian energy company had wanted to change 2038 as the final phase-out date to 2045. After intensive negotiations and intervention by minister presidents, a compromise was reached. The member conceded that in the end the Structural Development Act and Coal Phase-out Act had not corresponded to what had been set out in the Commission. Particularly with regard to the regulations for the region, the fight for local interests continues: "Because the money that is stipulated there for Lusatia is being used for things where I say: that is not right. One must accept that large-scale industry cannot be established in the region; the soil has been severely damaged by coal mining”. The question for the future, he said, is therefore: "In which areas do we need to develop?".

The mayors of the region wrote to the chancellor in 2016, wanting to shape the energy transition actively. They wanted to resolve Lusatia's problem, but the coal advocates refused to cooperate. Some individual members voted for the phase-out while on the Commission, but criticized it as a wrong decision later. Even today, some members try to influence the subsidies and funds for structural change. There is a "circle of friends of the Coal Commission" with most members in it. The negotiations continue. Another member said that a lot of money is coming into the region: now a fight for the money is breaking out and he said: "Now the cards are on the table. We have the laws, we know the numbers. Now it's time for implementation. We have to make something out of it and now it's up to us".

The series of interviews also shows that the Lusatia region has been intensively concerned with its future since the decision to phase out coal. Politicians and mayors interviewed in our survey reported on a participation process during the coal phase-out negotiations in the form of a series of talks in all municipalities in Lusatia. The result was that citizens were most concerned about the issue of demographic change due to dramatic out-migration (30% of the population after German unification). Rural areas had to be upgraded, and medical care and educational opportunities had to be improved. The politicians derived three central future topics for the region from this: health, mobility and education. One politician summarized the goal: "We want to be pioneers, you can take many people with you, even the excavator driver can do a qualification and deal with digitalization."

Other politicians also emphasize the importance of participation and the experience of self-efficacy: "I helped shape this and I didn't just wait and sit around."

New jobs are to be created, and training opportunities are also to be created for young people. A returnee program has been initiated. Projects are being promoted for the reuse of power plants. An industrial park was founded in the town of Spremberg, start-ups were also able to settle there, and the first companies are producing hydrogen. In addition, soft location factors are being upgraded: "These include, of course, attractive housing, attractive cities, a social environment with daycare centers, schools and a club life, playgrounds and swimming pools. It is political will to preserve the cinema."

Another politician understands his task as follows: "My very big goal is to create such jobs that people really stay here. Here in their homeland. And, of course, that as many as possible come back." Most of the other interviewees say the same thing. Other people report critically that subsidies would not only be used sensibly, however, but would also be used to finance flower boxes. But the creation of new jobs is also viewed skeptically:

“We must not forget: You can't make a research man out of a miner, you can't make a nurse out of a miner, and that's why we need well-paid industrial jobs”.

Other interviewees emphasize the importance of location in persuading companies or investors to come here: "If they notice that the conditions here are great—be it the transport links, be it the electrical supply, be it sufficient jobs, or that it is not expensive to build here, then they might consider coming to us sooner." Transport connections, shopping facilities, childcare and Internet connections would have to be improved. Then it would also be worthwhile for young people in home offices with children to stay in the region or move here.

The support programs result in initiatives for the municipalities, which makes some interviewees hopeful that "we will also help shape and support the structural change from below”. Others are not sure whether the new jobs will be similar to the old in terms of quality and salaries. In the opencast mining areas, some interviewees say, it is necessary to think openly about the possibilities for wind energy and solar energy.

The identity of the people with their homeland is also important, as one politician explained us: "This has been neglected and if you destroy a settlement area, the cultural landscape, that is not only the individual house, but it is the village, it is the network, it is the landscape. Then, of course, the language dies much sooner, so these are completely different reasons that play a role."

Several interviewees said local communities felt judged by outsiders. A mentality had taken root: "We are harmed by outside processes and helpless against them. This happened before and is happening again. You can call this a regional trauma." Other interviewees confirmed that the region depended on industry and was always looked at from the outside. But new things had to grow from the bottom up. The state must support this "with all available structural policy instruments and funds. The point is to have a clear perspective: "In twenty years, we'll be out of there. That means we'll work hard for the next twenty years and come up with targeted measures."

The state follows the logic: "Now there is money and you have to make something out of it. After unification, companies and investors came to East Germany and left investment ruins. This disappointment can be felt everywhere”, one politician said. However, Lusatia had been industrialized once. But suitable people were needed for this: All educated young people left the region—this has to change, according to all respondents.

The Rhenish perspective

The interviews reveal significant differences between Lusatia and the Rhenish Mining District. Lusatia was shaped by the GDR era, German unification and the aftermath, which hurt the region. The Rhineland does not have these influences. But both regions depend heavily on the energy industry, especially the powerful company RWE in the Rhineland. However, the Rhenish Mining District has a denser population and a more diverse economy. It has more sectors and medium-sized companies than the mostly rural and coal-based Lusatia.

The region's environment also matters. It belongs to the Rhineland metropolitan region, which offers more prospects to the district population if the coal industry disappears. The area attracts people from neighboring metropolitan regions as a place to live and spend leisure time. It has a varied landscape with woods, and farms, in addition to open-cast mines. Fruit and vegetable farming has a long tradition here.

The region may react differently to the coal phase-out than Lusatia. But the rural areas will also face challenges, as they, like Lusatia, have few prospects. But Western Germany’s recent history is different, as are local identities, attitudes and experiences with structural change processes, political decision-making and civil society participation. The socialist regime’s traces still linger in eastern Germany.

One interviewee points out that the coal phase-out and the energy transition are about the big picture and not just individual measures:

We talk about issues like electricity market design, for example. We also talk about climate change, of course. About energy policy as a whole. How do we want to set ourselves up? How do we want it to work? That we are all supplied with renewable energies as quickly as possible and perhaps also manage to phase out coal here sooner. We're also talking about visions for the future. I think about the younger generation. About my children. What kind of world do they want to live in?

This interviewee pointed out that extreme weather events resonate painfully with the younger generation. He observed that wind power opponents may support the idea but regularly resist local wind farms ("not in my backyard"). But they don't offer alternatives. External consultants also invite conflict, as outside assessments, as in Lusatia, are questioned.

One interviewee acknowledged the many opinions but noted that research institutes offer no guidance for the coal phase-out and the energy transition in the region. He pointed to the basis for the political decisions and laws when the coal phase-out was not a social issue. Then, he said, you have to consider what has changed. "And how can we deal with that differently… we passed this law twelve years ago, but now we have to get it right."

In addition to the coal phase-out, a new major power line ("Ultranet") is a major issue in the region. For some, the power line is necessary for the energy transition in order to transport wind power from northern to southern Germany. Proponents of coal use consider the power line superfluous. However, many critical citizens, having founded citizen initiatives, believe the line will be used primarily for coal-fired power and that the energy transition is just a pretext to justify its construction.

One respondent mentioned the energy transition debate in 2017, when the county council argued energy could be moved in space or time, but moving it in space requires pipelines and moving it in time requires storage. The interviewee said the credo had been to move energy in space, which means transmission lines. That's why the region needs a new "Ultranet line", he believes. It links the Rhenish Mining District with southern Germany, which is now affected by the shutdown of nuclear plants by 2023. This, he believes, is the real reason for the line: “And that's why we resist it.

Another interviewee concurs that the line will be used for coal-fired power: “The transport of coal power to the south, as a replacement for the nuclear plants that have failed or will fail by next year. That is the background.” He dismisses the idea that wind power from northern Germany will have the connections needed for transport.

People in the Rhenish Mining District are also uncertain, concerned, and skeptical about the coal phase-out. They doubt that renewable energies and power lines can supply industrial regions. They wonder if closing coal-fired power plants sooner (the state government's goal is 2030) will affect power line construction. The power company plans to use more wind energy, but future development in the area is unknown. No one can explain how the power generation and transport system is to work. The major power transmission networks connect to coal-fired and nuclear power plants. The respondents feel ignored and deceived. They want to understand the arguments, but they fail to do so. They suspect hidden interests behind the projects.

Respondents also consider the consequences of opencast lignite mining in Garzweiler or in the Cologne area:

It's frightening how nature is destroyed in order to obtain the raw material lignite, which is only used to generate electricity with an extremely low degree of efficiency. So, once you've seen that, you'll certainly be in favor of using more renewable energies to put a stop to this gigantic destruction of resources and this gigantic destruction of nature. So, from that point of view, I am absolutely in favor of pushing ahead with the energy transition.

The interviewee is aware that “we also have to accept a certain amount of restrictions”. Still, he believes that the Ultranet line and wind energy projects threaten to undermine democracy in the region, limiting fundamental rights of citizens. He sees the energy projects driven by legislative procedures that exclude the citizen voices. Normally, major projects would take longer and require more consultation. This raises suspicion and violates democratic standards; patronage interests seem involved. He thinks energy suppliers or producers oppose storage solutions because they would make their coal, gas and nuclear power plants unnecessary:

They get paid especially well for that. So that they can use it to ensure security of supply. It's easy to see that they have no interest whatsoever in ensuring that storage solutions are available quickly, nationwide and on a large scale, i.e. for high capacities. They have been doing this for years, and it is systematically prevented or capped.

Most interviewees support the energy transition, but differ on its design, technologies and deployment. For example, one interviewee favors renewable energies, saying they are "the only way to make the energy transition work." Of the large investment, “it will pay off.” To protect both the climate and the region’s economic future, “we have to follow the energy transition path. Germany could become a new technology leader and export the technologies That's why I support the energy transition and how it's happening.”

This respondent was not the only one to express support for the government's energy transition strategy:

Shutting down offshore wind plants in the north and nuclear power plants in the south is a good strategy. And we have to expand the grid and make it available at the right time so that, at the end of the day, we can shut down coal-fired power plants.

However, a key issue for many interviewees is poor communication and involvement of citizens in the transition. One interviewer says: “There is too little information for the citizens.” He suggests using press relations and online offerings to inform and engage the affected citizens “about what is coming down the road.”

The coal phase-out, the new power line, and the additional wind turbines are the burning issues in the region, and respondents feel annoyed and fooled because they are not well-informed. The old narrative of CO2 neutrality seems a pretext for companies to enrich themselves. Some interviewees propose a new narrative: “Folks, it's about industry, it's also about jobs, and it's also about the economy. It's not always just the energy transition.” That would be more tangible and understandable for the population. Overall, this interviewee said there is too little recognition that the energy turnaround is creating many new jobs, both directly through the construction of new energy plants and through businesses that benefit from the cheap electricity.

Other interviewees complain that although the coal phase-out has been decided, it still seems very unclear “how to set up a company now”. Politicians and companies also have to understand this because it involves a great deal of for a business owner. Money is now being poured into numerous projects (“100,000 projects”) and decisions have to be made in each case as to what will be funded. This requires “real foresight.”

In summary, the Rhenish Mining District respondents support the energy turnaround and do not oppose the phase-out. They are more forward-looking than the Lusatian respondents. They also worry about job losses, but they see new opportunities from the energy turnaround. They do not share the Lusatian post-reunification experiences, demographic changes, poor infrastructure, or the departure of young and educated people. But they do share uncertainty and doubts about key energy turnaround measures.

Representation of affected regions, local communities, and their interests

The Commission was formed as a top-down policy instrument to resolve the controversial sharing of phase-out costs among industries and citizens. Its 28 voting members included an interdisciplinary board of experts and representatives: minister-presidents from Brandenburg and Saxony (2), scientists (7), business and industry representatives (8), trade unions and municipal associations (4), environmental associations (2) and the Red Cross (1). Four regional representatives completed the voting body – a mayor and a local green party chairwoman from Lusatia, a district administrator, and a citizens initiative representative from the Rhenish Mining District. Therefore, the majority had economic priorities, the minority, environmental ones. Also in the minority was regional representation. Neutrality was compromised by including fifteen members with party affiliations.

State governments competed strongly with other Commission members. They acted as parallel authorities that were rarely challenged. This mattered, because the eastern states (Brandenburg and Saxony) worried about being ignored and overruled by the western ones. That is why the two heads of state chaired the Commission [ 47 , 48 , 49 ]. In Lusatia, a right-wing party already had a quarter of the votes. The eastern states' sense of disadvantage could have grown, worsening the German unity debate and boosting the right-wing party if people felt disenchanted with their representatives [ 50 , 51 ]. Moreover, North Rhine-Westphalia was better off economically and had experienced structural change in the Ruhr region [ 52 ]. So eastern state representatives had to sell the Commission's results as a big success to their people [ 47 ]. However, the different starting points of the two states made consensus difficult.

The Commission focused on financing structural change measures in the regions, but did not reach concrete conclusions. It viewed the German government's initial measures (EUR 1.5 billion by 2021 as an emergency program for all structural policy expenditures) as "at best a first step." All funding should link to the sustainable development goals (SDGs), especially to promote a C02-neutral economy. The Commission argued that the structural development strategy must suit the individual coalfields, which had different needs for the instruments. It emphasized setting up a monitoring system to measure the success of structural change by an employment balance sheet. The goal was to track the industrial jobs lost and the adequate jobs created by structural change. The Commission named a positive employment balance as a strategic goal. No monitoring information exists.

A central problem was the Commission's lack of independence. Politicians were members of the Commission, so they represented party interests. Some politicians from the government and certain parties had strong interests in the energy industry, while others were more ecologically minded or represented worker interests. In addition, politicians from both coal regions in East and West Germany wanted to achieve the best results for their region. This complicated cross-constellation of interests weakened the Commission and created complexity and compromise in the process.

Though Lusatia developed regional institutions and structures later than the Rhine region, in the past 20 years, a strong local network of actors has emerged out of economic alliances, political interests, networks, and citizens engaged with the region’s future [ 52 , 53 , 54 ]. The key actors in public debates are mayors, Lusatia commissioners, citizens, structural change organizers, and trainees [ 53 ]. Similar councils exist in the Rhenish Mining District [ 55 ]. All interviewees mentioned these actors and bodies. However, the Commission did not represent them and hardly reflected their interests. The Commission was externalist and expertocratic, most ignoring local interests [ 23 , 56 ].

We identify a proxy conflict in the Commission between academia/NGOs and business/industry over climate change goals. Politicians and corporations wanted more funding and a later phase-out date, and they dominated the Commission. The Commission was top-down and exclusive; local actors and civil society were ignored or sidelined. Three power asymmetries played out with a minority ecological group debating a majority political–business group on the coal phase-out intensity and speed, while the local community group could only seek more compensation. Table 1 sums up the recommendations made.

Participation of local communities

The government-appointed Commission had 31 members from various sectors. It favored regional economic interests over climate policy. Both regions had long-term plans for structural change, meaning the top-down approach of the Commission conflicted with an ongoing bottom-up approach to local needs [ 57 ].

The Structural Reinforcement Act then set the budget for the Commission's recommendations. It provided 2 billion euros annually for 20 years, with 43% going to Lusatia [ 58 ]. The EU added 877 million euros for all German coal regions [ 59 ]. Lusatia would use the funds for science, transport and digital infrastructure [ 53 , 54 ].

Both regions recognized the need for structural change well before the German coal phase-out decisions [ 13 , 20 ]. Lusatia and the Rhenish Mining District often compared note and learned from each other during this process. They envisioned active cooperation in a state and federal policy framework with an action roadmap for the future [ 60 , 61 ]. Researchers suggested that state governments should more actively shape the coal phase-out process and decisions and develop their own programs of measures [ 62 , 63 , 64 , 65 , 66 , 67 , 68 ].

In the end, the Commission failed to provide clarity and thus stability for the affected regions. To see how values and motivations influenced participation processes in the Rhenish Mining District after the Commission's decision, consider the Rhenish district's “Zukunftsagentur Rheinisches Revier” (Agency for the Future of the Rhenish Mining District). It brings the public in at the end of the process. The state agency asked citizens for their views on the phase-out pathway after the Commission’s decision in autumn 2020 [ 69 ]. Lusatia has not implemented a similar public participation process.

The first fast-track program for regional structural change measures started in 2019 with a kick-off conference of the regional hubs (see Table  2 ). An economic program was submitted to the government. Various participation procedures informed the public, consulted with them, and involved local actors and residents in the conference. In 2020, project selection for the structural strengthening program began. Through online dialogue, a district workshop, a second district forum and discussions guidelines for civil society participation were developed. In 2021, the Future Agency had its first general meeting, a district contract was signed, and an improved economic and structural program was presented. The citizens' report with their comments and ideas was handed over to the Future Agency, a participation charter was adopted as a binding policy document (concluding the first participation stage and planning for a second phase).

Efforts for early and comprehensive participation from the local communities are easily recognizable. Opportunities for active civic engagement were plentiful; however, the influence civic participation had on the Commission’s decision seems marginal at best.

Conflict and controversy about the phase-out process

A controversy arose during the phase-out over a road map of concrete measures. The German Government had delayed publishing the phase-out plan until late 2019, well after the Commission's final report [ 65 ]. This suggests that the Coal Commission did not address how to design the phase-out, partly due to insufficient consultation with the government. The Commission "proposed a coal phase-out plan in January 2019 that foresees shutting down a total of 12.5 gigawatt (27% of the active installed coal capacity at the end of 2017) of coal-fired power plants by 2022. All coal-fired electricity should be phased-out by 2035 or by 2038 the latest" [[ 62 ], p. 244]. An auction mechanism regulates this process. The Commission disregarded future injustices, which could hinder an anticipative strategy of phase-out policy action.

In Lusatia, a 2013 survey showed that economic issues dominated respondent opinions, with unemployment, the outflow of young people and the lack of job opportunities for young people deemed most important [ 70 ]. Another survey highlighted the problem of the region's "losers" (referring to vulnerable groups, e.g., unemployed people) and the massive out-migration, especially of younger women [ 71 ]. About employment opportunities, the population of Lusatia is significantly more pessimistic than Germany as a whole [ 72 , 73 ] with people deeply concerned about economic development [ 74 ]. We suspect this finding also applies to the Rhineland area but with less urgency.

Rinscheid [ 67 ] conducted a comparative population survey between two regions to examine how fast they should phase out lignite. He surveyed over 3000 citizens from Lusatia ( n  = 500), Rhineland ( n  = 500), and other areas of German ( n  = 2000). The respondents were ambivalent about a coal phase-out in 2030 or 2040, but 56% of the Lusatian sample and 59% of the Rhenish expected positive health effects from it. This aligns with the main reasons for the phase-out: to cut emissions, prevent climate change, and address unjust energy systems [ 75 , 76 , 77 ]. The respondents from the regions also prioritized job security over social security, unlike the national sample [ 67 ]. The findings point to the socio-geographic dimensions of phase-outs that are well explored in the energy justice literature [ 78 , 79 , 80 ].

We contend that ineffective policies for civil society result from low participation in the Commission's activities, as have others [ 63 , 81 , 82 ]. For instance, Lusatia's organized civil society comprises many small groups that preserve industrial and Sorbian cultures in nonprofits [ 83 ]. The Rhine region shows a similar pattern, but with a stronger environmental movement [ 84 ]. Civil society binds structural change, maintaining local social ties and traditions, and connecting new firms and institutions with new residents [ 34 , 85 , 86 , 87 ].

A post-decision survey by Roose [ 73 ] in German coal regions found that structural change was not perceived as stronger than elsewhere. Many people reported economic improvement and expected more. However, dissatisfaction with the coal phase-out policy was evident: survey respondents saw political decisions as unfounded, demanded more action, and condemned radicalism and egoism. Respondents hoped for the middle class and new companies. Politics was blamed, but most rejected further polluting industries. Politics was also viewed as the cause of economic decline by more people than average.

The perfect storm of large-scale unemployment, migration, financial weakness, and administrative restructuring has coal districts feeling that change causes overload and outsiders decide their fate [ 53 ]. They also feel unappreciated for their energy and climate contributions [ 88 ].

To sum up, the Commission did not succeed in establishing even a thematic connection that could integrate the “actors of change” from the affected regions into its work. Figure  1 illustrates those various actors, contrasted with the graded areas where decision-making authority was concentrated.

Constellation of actors in Lusatia around the Coal Commission (in the period from 2018 to 2019)

Discussion: a comparison of two different ways of the mining regions

We conducted a comparison of interest representation and stakeholder participation in two regions impacted by coal mining: Lusatia and the Rhenish Mining District (see Tables  3 and 4 ). Our findings indicate the primary concerns differ between the two regions, focusing on landscape and tourism in Lusatia, and regional industries in the Rhenish district. The divide runs deep. The Rhenish Mining District has implemented a participation strategy that integrates local stakeholders and the population, a feature lacking in Lusatia. Local Rhenish communities and traditions receive more recognition in the Rhineland than in Lusatia. And while state governments wield significant influence in both regions, local authorities play a more substantial role in the Rhenish district than in Lusatia. The divide extends into the participation of academia and civil society in the phase-out, where we can show their greater involvement and influence in the Rhenish region than in Lusatia.

These differences influence the level of conflict in each region, as industry and institutional authority are more prominently visible and valued in the Rhenish region, whereas economic and job-related issues take precedence in Lusatia. This means deeper conflicts and more urgent questions arise in Lusatia over development strategies that are able to include local concerns and aspirations.

Both regions lacked a voice in the Coal Commission's decisions, but used different strategies to compensate. The Rhenish Mining District had more local participation and interests than Lusatia, which faced different challenges. More local involvement in Lusatia could have improved the structural change process and led to a fairer allocation of funds for those most affected by the phase-out.

In our final analysis of regional development in the two regions, we focus on four aspects: industrial culture, tourism, education, and economy. We highlight the role of place attachments and identities, procedural justice, and recognition of local communities and cultures. Both regions used studies and surveys to plan their structural development programs [ 89 , 90 ]. The study in the Rhenish Mining District emphasized involving the population from the start. As "ambassadors of the region", their participation would raise awareness of the region's transformation. This implies networking, creativity, experimentation, little top-down management, infrastructure conversions with "deliberate breaks", a regional mission statement, long-term strategies, a tourism plan for economic growth with separate profiles and themes for different spaces, interim uses, and careful implementation processes (see Table  5 ).

Young people want a better future in Lusatia, but the region is divided and diverse. Lusatia is more rural than North Rhine-Westphalia, which affects people's values and preferences. For instance, a tourism survey found that visitors to urban areas prefer high culture (theaters, museums, galleries), while those to rural prefer popular and everyday culture (traditions, folk festivals, cultural landscape, agricultural and handicraft products) [ 90 ]. However, the region lacks hospitality attractions, cultural management, network building, and active cultural heritage sites. Many areas remain untapped for tourism, with unexploited potential for a tourist industry to create new services for adventure, nature and wilderness activities.

The Rhenish Mining District faces similar challenges but the hospitality industry is not focused on offsetting losses from the transformation process. Still, cultural events are poorly coordinated, and local services lack promotion and branding.

Tourism development can balance local needs and culture with place attachments and identities. However, it can also exploit and marginalize local culture for commercial purposes. To ensure procedural justice and local culture recognition, the local population should be involved early and follow a long-term strategy as both reports recommend (see above).

The Coal Commission had significant deficiencies in the dimensions of representation and fair decision-making. The recognition of local communities and identities of the coal regions, crucial for justice beyond the process level, was reduced to marginal civic participation with an asymmetric power distribution among stakeholders that has eroded democratic legitimacy. Bang et al. [ 91 ] identify the root challenge as balancing the concerns of the energy transition (speed and cost-effectiveness) with equitable treatment for businesses, workers, and communities most affected by it. Policymakers in Germany have prioritized the energy transition, but mostly when it aligns with incumbent interests. A just transition succeeds better when institutions mediate government–stakeholder interactions and allow for broad participation, as this increases policy change feasibility and legitimacy.

We argue that Germany's government has strongly addressed equitable transition concerns, as broad stakeholder representation and transition assistance measures have occurred in the formal process. However, this contradicts Gürtler et al. [ 23 ], who found that the German Coal Commission focused on broad advocacy and government spending for affected regions, workers, and industries. Since commissions are arenas for spatial, moral, and sectoral (re)negotiations, various levels and actors would pressure commission members to justify their engagement and outcomes. The essential self-image of commissions must be a commitment to record and reflect the municipalities' needs in the coal regions and communicate their concerns and demands to the federal government. The crucial problem is on the spatial level, because the unequal distribution of burdens and benefits surrounding climate protection measures provokes legitimacy struggles from local to global contexts (municipal needs vs. climate protection). This triggers structural change processes that transcend geographic scales, vertical levels of policy and politics, and sectoral boundaries. Only if governments expand capacities to organize transition processes that positively affect and influence the livelihoods of workers, communities and regions, can they achieve wider acceptance of climate policy measures.

Conclusion: lacking procedural justice, representation and participation

Based on two interview series in Lusatia and the Rhenish Mining District, we analyzed the effects of the decisions of the German Coal Commission on these two mining regions through the lens of procedural justice, examining representation of local concerns and participation of local communities.

We found the representation of citizen interests inadequate and attribute this to deficits in integrating the two regions into decision making, shortcomings in participation, and missed opportunities to create a fair and open process based on recognition of local communities' demands and concerns.

Our interviews show considerable differences in representation between local communities in Lusatia and the Rhenish Mining District. In Lusatia, the perception of "loss" is central, and interviewees want companies to settle and population to increase. This is less important in the Rhenish region, where the "how" of the transformation process is emphasized and respondents want a sensible implementation of the energy transition. The Coal Commission recognized Lusatia's need for structural transformation support, but could not pursue this aspect and develop strategies; it had no mandate and it was not politically desired.

This study's examples, especially the Lusatia conflict constellation analysis and the tourism region transformation development strategies, show potential for conflict, which has been overlooked. Future strategies of participation, collaboration and mediation will be essential to establish procedural justice in regional strategies and implementations [ 92 , 93 , 94 , 95 ].

Finally, we have to characterize the Coal Commission negotiation process as a missed opportunity. The potential for higher procedural justice was not exploited, despite favorable third-party intervention [ 96 ]. It may be hard to balance the sociopolitical levels of actor and community constellation vertically and horizontally and to involve and coordinate bottom-up policymaking, civil society, and private sector activities effectively, participatorily, and goal-oriented [ 97 , 98 , 99 , 100 , 101 ], but failure to do so promises social upheavals.

Consider possible alternatives to a Coal Commission that only represented privileged interests in society. Many scientists have emphasized the need for more participation from municipalities [ 102 ], and a concept for participatory governance has been explored [ 63 ]. In Lusatia, a research project has identified indicators for a "good life" [ 103 ]. However, these ideas were ignored by the Commission, and so chances to build trust and empower stakeholders were wasted.

Our study has limitations. The minds and hearts of the local populations remain elusive to research; responses in the two regions to the pressures of the energy transition are intertwined with history and culture [ 104 , 105 , 106 ]. We analyzed the Lusatia case study to gain insight. We also considered relevant investigations [ 23 ] and a second Commission's reflections on the Commission's work. However, the long-term effects of the Coal Commission’s recommendations will continue [ 107 , 108 , 109 ]. The participation programs and tourism development ideas we suggest point the way to a more just and democratically legitimate phase-out, but more research is needed to recommend phase-out policies.

We have shown that the Commission acted as a third intermediary body, not as a bridge between communities and actor networks [ 110 , 111 , 112 , 113 ]. Yet public participation and regional stakeholder integration are key for policy diffusion and learning [ 114 , 115 ]. The Commission should have addressed local issues and sentiments with sensitivity and empathy. This could have helped integrate local communities in decision making and increased acceptance and legitimacy [ 116 , 117 , 118 ]. We conclude that the recognition dimension is crucial for energy justice in structural change processes like the coal phase-out.

See Table  6 , 7 , 8 and 9 .

Availability of data and materials

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Radtke, J., David, M. How Germany is phasing out lignite: insights from the Coal Commission and local communities. Energ Sustain Soc 14 , 7 (2024). https://doi.org/10.1186/s13705-023-00434-z

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Received : 20 February 2023

Accepted : 15 December 2023

Published : 11 January 2024

DOI : https://doi.org/10.1186/s13705-023-00434-z

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