Every
now and then someone will, while trying to make some point on a political
matter, say that the thing they oppose “wasn’t how the Founders intended.” And
the thing I’ve come to realize over the years is that if you’re arguing with
someone and they pull that out, it means you’ve won. They have no argument for their position so
they are just playing the “Founders Intention Card” in the hopes that will shut
you up.
I
think the best way to fully explain this, is something I do as a writer. To explore some ideas – or sometimes just to
pass the time – I’ll try to imagine what I would do if some historical figure
showed up at my door. After being
weirded out for a bit, I’d show JFK the Apollo
11 landing, I’d show MLK the Obama inauguration, and since I couldn’t think
of anything special to show some other initialed person I’d show Einstein the
reports of the detection of gravitational waves. But should I tell JFK about RFK? Or MLK about BLM? What’s the point of any of this, you
ask. Well, having imaginary
conversations with long dead historical figures is good practice for having
imaginary conversations with fictitious people.
And since I’m a writer, it’s perfectly fine for me to do that.
A
subset of this idea is where the historical person can’t interact with the
modern world. Their spirit, ghost,
essence, whatever, is just floating over your shoulder seeing what you see but
unable to ask for any clarification.
Someone like Caesar would have no clue what was going on, whereas
someone like Ben Franklin would at least understand most of the language. This can be useful to a writer trying to get
into the head of a character ending up on an alien world.
Now
let’s imagine the spirits of all the Founding Fathers showed up over my
shoulder while I drove to work. What
would they experience? After the shock
wore off, they would be amazed to be traveling without any horses. If Franklin figured out the speedometer
they’d probably be terrified of going the unheard of speed of fifty miles an
hour. Then there would be this odd
music, but without any sign of musician or instrument. And if it was a good song that I repeated,
they’d be shocked to hear the exact same thing again.
On
my way to work I’d stop at a store with these weird outside stalls. I’d then use a stiff card to somehow buy so
many gallons of this stuff called gasoline that would amount to an absurd
amount of like $30. Some of them
probably didn’t pay as much for a slave.
Then
I get to work and they’d see that some of my superiors are – gasp – women who –
double gasp – wear trousers. And after a
few hours of work – after handling such unexplainable items like extension
cords and Pop-Tarts – I’d take my lunch break.
I’d take something out of an ice box – that doesn’t have ice in it – and
stick it another box that hums for a few minutes and that somehow makes my meal
hot. I’d eat with a fork that’s as clear
as glass but doesn’t shatter. Something
that amazing they’d probably keep as a family heirloom, but which I just throw
away once I’m done with it.
Pretty
much anything we do today would be astounding to the Founding Fathers. They would write letters and then put them on
a boat and sail them to Europe. Some
months later, they might get a reply.
Now imagine them watching someone pull a thing out of their pocket to “call”
someone in Japan just to wish them a happy birthday. That would completely blow their minds. Our world would be almost incomprehensible to
them. Which is why “that’s not what the
Founders intended” is a losing play in an argument.
The
Founding Fathers were some of the brightest minds of the Eighteenth
Century. But we live in the
Twenty-first. They didn’t have indoor
plumbing, but we should follow their intentions in regards to things like
cyberterrorism? I’m not saying we should
scrap everything of theirs, but we should examine everything to make sure it is
still relevant. I mean, the Founders weren’t
perfect. They didn’t intend for blacks
or women to vote and only certain types of people want to go back to that.
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