The Economist is warning us of the “Perils of Constitution-Worship.” The piece attacks the tea partiers for holding the Constitution in too high of regard. Apparently “the constitution provides few answers to the hard questions thrown up by modern politics.”

Our constitutional principles, not the words, deserve reverence and understanding. It is ironic that The Economist, a British publication existing under an unwritten constitution that is essentially a collection of principles, seems to forget that constitutions are about more than the text. As Captain Kirk overacts so clearly, if you don’t understand the principles at the heart of the Constitution then revering the words becomes nothing more than idolatry.

But the piece does offer an interesting point of view that should be addressed seriously by advocates of originalism and constitutional fidelity. Originalism is always stylized as in pitched battle with the “living Constitution” and vice versa. Few people, however, are 100% originalist or 100% living constitutionalist. To be the former, for example, would be to believe that the First Amendment only prohibits prior restraint (as many now think was the original interpretation), and that the Establishment Clause does not apply to the states. A 100% living constitutionalist, on the other hand, would ignore the text completely and view the Constitution as irrelevant.

No serious scholar holds either of these views. At best, “originalist” or “living Constitutionalist” describes a disposition, not a rigorous set of viewpoints. At worst, the phrases are merely epithets.

This is, ultimately, the problem with The Economist piece: it ignores the disposition behind constitutional veneration, which is an appreciation of the principles upon which it was constructed. It treats tea partiers’ appreciation of the Constitution as totemic rather than rational. While I’m sure that there are those who simply revere the Constitution as a pseudo-religious object, those of us who venerate the Constitution intellectually do so because it offers a set of principles that offer the most reliable check on arbitrary rules that violate our rights.

It is absolutely true that the Constitution cannot offer an answer to every question that arises in  the modern world. It was not designed to. Modern constitutions, be they the European Union’s not-yet approved one or most constitutions of American states, try to do too much. They become snowballs of amendments and provisions that should mostly be statutory. An overview of modern constitutions shows that most countries and states have forgotten what constitutions are: a statement of principles and a framework under which those principles can be enacted.

Unfortunately, many American politicians have also forgotten what constitutions are. I don’t mean that they’ve forgotten the nuances of the Dormant Commerce Clause, I mean that they seem to have forgotten that the Constitution exists. As I blogged before, during the health care debates many representatives displayed an unabashed disdain for the Constitution and any constraints that it may place upon their ability to make the world awesome (my friend Aaron Powell’s memorable phrase). For many, bringing up the Constitution is now either reactionary or jingoistic.

This is precisely the type of attitude from elected representatives that the Constitution was designed to cabin: that they are constrained only by the limits of their visions, the strength of their rhetoric, and the shouts from the crowd. Originalism is a call for humility. To be an originalist is to champion the virtues of constraint–constraint by checks and balances and rights–against the allure of power and the self-satisfaction that comes from distributing largess and picking favorites. These are the principles that undergird the Constitution and they are the philosophical, rather than the idolatrous, reasons that we “worship” that wizened old document that has seen better days.

So, heed the words of Captain Kirk: don’t worship the Constitution, read it, study it. And even if you do not “fully understand” the words–like the slack-jawed alien in the clip–at least learn the principles. Learn that it does not create a system in which all governmental powers that are not prohibited are permitted. It creates a system in which all that is not permitted is prohibited. And, if you don’t like this, try to change it through the proper channels. It is entirely possible, if not probable, that some desired policies are not constitutional. After all, it’s not a document designed to enthrone our desires; it was designed to constrain our avarice.

It also, apparently, raises the eyebrows of the LA County health inspectors. And they are willing to jail those who sell this (I’m sure) delicious treat. Elizabeth Palacios is become another classic example of a person of lower means who has been tormented by draconian government regulations that, by and large, are supposedly designed to help people like her out.

Read more about it here.

Historical myths, though, can mislead as much by what they don’t say as by what they do say—and nostalgia for the past typically glosses over the moral problems intrinsic to the labor of producing food. Most men were born to a life of labor in the fields, most women to a life of grinding, chopping, and cooking.

“Servitude,” said my mother as she prepared home-cooked breakfast, dinner, and tea for 8 to 10 people 365 days a year. She was right. Churning butter and skinning and cleaning hares, without the option of picking up the phone for a pizza if something goes wrong, is unremitting, unforgiving toil. Perhaps, though, my mother did not realize how much worse her lot might have been. She could at least buy our bread. In Mexico, at the same time, women without servants could expect to spend five hours a day kneeling at the grindstone preparing the dough for the family’s tortillas.

In the first half of the 20th century, Italians embraced factory-made pasta and canned tomatoes. In the second half, Japanese women welcomed factory-made bread because they could sleep a little longer instead of getting up to make rice. As supermarkets appeared in Eastern Europe, people rejoiced at the convenience of ready-made goods. For all, culinary modernism had proved what was wanted: food that was processed, preservable, industrial, novel, and fast, the food of the elite at a price everyone could afford. Where modern food became available, people grew taller and stronger and lived longer. Men had choices other than hard agricultural labor; women had choices other than kneeling at the metate five hours a day.

I’m reading it with interest. So far, I am initially perturbed by the number of Krugman cites he has thrown in and the way he has quickly mentioned and disregarded important factors like income mobility. But perhaps he will return to the point, so I will withhold judgment.

I’m interested in whether he’ll have any novel conclusions to offer as to why the supposed income inequality increase is a problem. I understand that possibilities of class warfare may be a cause for practical concern, but is it a cause of moral concern? That is, if zero-sum theories of wealth are not true (and they aren’t), and the rich aren’t causing the poverty of the poor, then what is immoral about income inequality?

I understand that I am asking fundamental questions of political philosophy. Many egalitarian-minded thinkers may think I’m crazy for even asking the question. Fairness is the problem, they say. Inequalities are unfair.

What strikes me as fascinating, however, is whether moral descriptions of broad-brush categories can be meaningfully transcribed into moral imperatives about individual members of the class. Incomes are not earned by classes, after all, they are earned by individuals. For example, is saying that it is unfair for certain classes to become rich while others become (or stay) poor the same as saying that a given poor person X deserves more income in tandem with a given rich person Y earning more money?

It is hard to imagine how it these statements could not be the same. It is the individual instantiation of egalitarian policies (among other things) that I disagree with.

Last year’s speech created quite the hubub. And rightfully so. As Neal McCluskey pointed out, the speech was not only unnecessary (and came conveniently packaged with a left-leaning lesson plan), but it was an example of the general problems with centralized education. I dislike the address because it is emblematic of the Orwellian-style mission to socialize the nation’s children into a common ethos via the public school system.

Now, I’m not Justice Scalia; I do not wish to blithely overuse the “Orwellian” epithet. It is difficult, however, to come up with any reason why the government must run schools other than the idea that socializing children with common attitudes is somehow the mission of the state.

Those who oppose vouchers often have this idea undergirding their objections. When I explain to them that I believe in universal, state-funded education, they still construct elaborate arguments for why this universal, state-funded education must be run by the government. I’ve already made a concession–a heresy to some libertarians–that government should pay for education. Evidently, this is not enough.

But why? Because all children need to be instructed in the same things? Because instilling some sense of collectivism is vital to the goals and aspirations of the leftist? Both. I’ve been told that privately run schools may not teach an adequate respect and appreciation for the environment, that creationism/intelligent design should not be allowed inside children’s heads, that racism/nationalism may be taught rather than “tolerance.” All are cited as dangers of publicly funded, but not publicly administered, education system.

The “it takes a village” attitude has long been a cornerstone of collectivism. Public education partially originated with aspirations towards common socialization and collectivization. John Dewey, acolyte for progressive education, created an entire philosophy of education based on theories of socialization and collectivization.

Having started school in the 80s, I got my healthy dose of such faddish attempts at socialization. I was forced to endure a thoroughly insipid class called P.A.W.S. (Positive Action With Students) that was as vacuous as it sounds. Of course I also had my time in D.A.R.E., a substantial dose of eco-mania (although it pales in comparison to what modern children get), and the daily pledge of allegiance. Thankfully, my parents consistently warned me to not pay too much attention to these brazen attempts by the edu-cratic establishment to mold me into a good citizen.

As I have written before, how we educate our children is a bizarre thing to choose democratically. We demand more brands of cereal than we demand varieties of education. And, instead of fighting for a market system that will fill nearly all our demands, both sides fight for control over the “commanding heights” of pedagogy and the monopolistic power to teach everybody else’s children.