the rules within which the Right or the Left gets to translate its view of right into law.
This is the difference between constitutional politics and ordinary politics. And this distinction is critical to everything that follows. Because there’s no reason, in principle, why people who disagree fundamentally about ordinary politics can’t agree fundamentally about constitutional politics. That’s not to say that they will agree. We all would say in the abstract that votes cast in an election should be fairly and accurately counted. That’s different from saying that all sides in a particular election would favor a recount of Miami–Dade County. Opponents in a political battle use whatever means they can to win. But even so, it is still possible for us to engage in a conversation with people with whom we disagree about what the rules of the game should be, independently of who is likely to win.
Yet to do this in the current political environment is extraordinarily difficult. If we’re to do it, we need a clear symbol or tag—a kind of Red Cross or UN flag—that we could show to people on either side and expect them to understand it to say:
I am here to have a constitutional conversation. I’m not here to convert you. I respect your position, even if I disagree with you. I hope someday to have a chance to persuade you of the error in your ways. That’s not my aim today. I aim today simply to talk about whether the system under which our differences get resolved is one we can trust or one we should change. I aim to talk about the rules of the game, and not about which side should win.
This is, no doubt, a complex idea. It can’t be explained in 140 characters. Yet if we’re to make progress in saving this Republic, we need to find a way to express it clearly. And then we need experience in practicing it.
For here is the fundamental challenge that we face: We won’t fix this Republic without amending the Constitution. There’s lots we could do before an amendment is enacted, but unless the Supreme Court changes radically, we’re going to need an amendment as well.
In America, an amendment requires massive cross-partisan agreement. It can’t be done, and won’t be done, by one faction alone. The Tea Partiers can well be proud of the success of their movement (even if it scares some of the rest of us). But the Tea Party alone is not “the Second American Revolution.” Nor are Occupiers on their own going to radically change the way society works. We must recognize that there is no 99 percent that shares a common set of substantive political values. We are, as Americans, different, even if there are dimensions (for example, constitutional dimensions) upon which we all agree.
So this, then, is the third bit to add to the dilemma that ended the last chapter:
If we’re to be successful, we must not only:
(1) Identify an effective reform that the vast majority of us could agree upon; and then …
(2) Leverage the passion of different grassroots movements to support that fundamental reform; but we must do this …
(3) Without neutralizing or denying or ignoring the real differences that exist among these passionate grassroots movements.
In my tribe, we want the government to do more to assure basic equality of opportunity; we want it to be as aggressive in protecting individuals from (at least some forms of) failure as it has been in protecting banks from their failure. We believe in a progressive tax rate. We also believe (in this corner of the tribe, at least) in free trade and free enterprise. We are skeptical of subsidies—not necessarily opposed, but skeptical.
Your tribe might be different. You might want a flat tax, or a much smaller government. You might not believe that the government has a role in providing security against social threats as it provides security against physical or terrorist threats. You might be against gay rights. You might be for traditional marriage.
American Nations: A History of the Eleven Rival Regional Cultures of North America