t than a republic?
—A democracy is where the people choose directly. A republic is where the people choose their representatives.
Good. But which people in a democracy choose?
Is everyone a citizen?
—I don’t think so.
Right again. In ancient Athens, the typical example, only a small slice of the population had citizenship rights. (No women, for example.) In the United States, even the infant United States, democracy was impractical, because there were too many people who were too far spread out. Democracy was also, as far as the Founding Fathers were concerned, dangerous. I like to joke that they considered “democracy” a four-letter word. The Electoral College was meant to be a circuit-breaker, a way of cooling popular passions. And it worked exactly as intended until Andrew Jackson came along and broke it. Which we’ll get to.
—Can I ask about something else?
—I don’t get the “advice and consent” role of the Senate when it comes to things like Supreme Court nominations and treaties.
—Please, Mr. K.
Hey, Sadie, I’m just the messenger. I’m not the one creating the ambiguity here. The Founding Fathers did that. On purpose.
—Seems crazy to me that they would make it purposely confusing.
Is it, though?
—Wait: It’s like that other thing.
You mean concurrent powers, Jonah. Yes, the underlying principle is the same: division of authority. That’s why there’s three branches of government. And why we have the “advice and consent” business.
—I get that. But why make the division purposely unclear?
Well, now, that’s a good question, Sadie. The answer is that the Founders understood that the Constitution is a political document—that some things simply couldn’t be a matter of rules, because if they tried to anticipate every scenario the whole thing would break down. Some things would have to be worked out based on who has the most power or influence at a given moment. There’s some danger in that, but if the checks and balances are there, no one faction or point of view can get too powerful. Nowhere is this political dimension more obvious than in the way the Constitution handles the possible removal of a sitting president. Anyone want to tackle that one?
—You mean the whole impeachment thing.
—So the president does something wrong—
What do you mean “wrong?”
—Whaddya mean what do I mean? Something that’s not according to the Constitution—that’s unconstitutional.
Yes, but what makes something unconstitutional?
—Something that’s against the law.
Well, yes. But what makes something—oh never mind. The actual language in the Constitution is “high crimes and misdemeanors.” The point is that the Founders never really spell out how to define either, which are actually a kind of odd couple. Murder? For sure, that’s a high crime. But a misdemeanor? Are you going to get rid of a president over a speeding ticket? It would be hard to convince people that made sense. Which is kind of the point. The Founders figured if people got mad enough, they’d find a way to make their anger known, and that impeachment would be the process whereby that happened. So what’s the procedure? Yin?
—First you get impeached by the House. If a majority decides the president has done something wrong, then the President gets tried in the Senate. The chief justice of the Supreme Court is the judge. If two-thirds of the Senate votes to convict, the president loses his job.
Great. And how many times has this actually happened?
—There have been two impeachments: Andrew Johnson and Bill Clinton. Both were acquitted.
Outstanding. Just to finish making the point: there’s something avowedly subjective about impeachment and conviction. The Founders wanted to make it difficult, possible, and to some degree a matter of public opinion. I’d say they succeeded.
Let me introduce another topic: slavery Question: how many times does the word “slavery” come up in the Constitution?
—A 103 times.
Good, Jonquil. The answer is never. Slavery is referred to three times: There’s a fugitive slave provision in which property must be returned in Article IV, Section 2. And the international slave trade