If, like me, you’re a child of the ’70s (or maybe someone who gets high and watches cartoons), you might recall when you first learned of the US Constitution: Schoolhouse Rock!, the animated Saturday morning show. A few weeks ago (when I was neither high nor watching cartoons)—amid the recent discussions about the 14th Amendment, Section 3 (you know, the one that disqualifies anyone from holding public office if they engage in an insurrection or give aid to insurrectionists)—I began wondering about why the US doesn’t have more safeguards in the Constitution to bulwark its democracy.
The fact that Amendment 14 is the only place that addresses the disqualification of a candidate for such behavior is—to use an erudite term—bonkers. How. Is. This. Possible? Why don’t we have more protections? And so began that familiar tumbling down the rabbit hole of reading articles by scholars of constitutional law, poring over long social media threads by legal experts, and seeking counsel from my old friend and nemesis, Google.
The obvious solution to me was to consider adding amendments to the Constitution. And unless you are a constitutional nerd, then, like me, the idea of tacking on an amendment feels like something that happens only rarely and intended to address a weighty omission—one whose impact on the citizenry must reach a high, high bar. I imagined that the last such revision must have occurred eons ago, say, in 1919, when women won the right to vote (Amendment 19).
Wrong. The 27th Amendment—the last to be ratified—was passed by a joint resolution of Congress in 1992. The high bar of import? To ensure that Congress could not unilaterally give its members a salary hike—i.e., proposed raises cannot go into effect until the next congressional term. High bar, my ass. It’s not that I disagree with Old Number 27, the so-called “compensation amendment,” but as far as constitutional add-ons go, it’s a “meh.” And you know what? That amendment was introduced in the 1700s and took nearly 200 years to pass. Talk about a slow burn.
In fact, I went on to discover that, for the 100 years prior to the 27th, Congress was adopting new amendments every 10 to 20 years or so. Which then led me back to where I started, but which now bolstered my conviction: It’s time. We are overdue for some constitutional upgrades.
As a short civics class reminder, according to Article V, there are two routes to altering the Constitution. First, for amendments to be proposed, they need the support of two thirds of the members of the House and Senate. And, once formally proposed, those amendments can then be ratified and adopted only when three fourths of all state legislatures have voted to approve them. Alternatively, two thirds of all state legislatures can call on the US Congress to have a constitutional convention at which these amendments might be proposed, which, if approved, would then be kicked back to the state legislatures for the same process mentioned above.
In order for there to be any such ratification today, of course, an amendment would need to garner bipartisan support in both houses of Congress, or in state legislatures. Not an easy task. And the whole process can take years. So while initial steps may reflect contemporary social movements, political priorities, or party divisions, it’s a crapshoot as to when and how an amendment’s appeal might finally come into wider favor.
Which is how I got around to writing this column. If amendments come along not too infrequently, and if the political climate for bringing them to a vote can change over time: Why not give it a shot?
Here are the six amendments I’d champion (in no particular order):
No. 1. Pardon Me.
Our Constitution is not a game of Monopoly. For the head of the executive branch, there should not be a “get out of jail free” card. In other words, presidents should not be able to pardon themselves. They should not be able to wield the most power of anyone in our country and not be held responsible for illegal or unconstitutional actions while wielding that power. We have a phrase for this already: abuse of power. (Caveat: A pardon for a family member should be subject to some sort of bipartisan congressional mechanism. A presidential relative shouldn’t be automatically denied the right to receive a pardon, but in most cases a “nepo-pardon” isn’t a good look for democracy.)