Very Short Story: The Three "I's"

The Three sat motionless, their black robes hanging straight down as if weighted at the seams, as rigid as the tunics on the marble statues that lined the dais.

They were sometimes compared to the Sun, around which everything moved in precisely predictable orbits.  But after clerking for them, the Three seemed more than ever like a trio of black holes, toward which everything inevitably fell.

Nothing escaped the reach of their opinions.  And so it was a citizen’s prime duty to understand them.

Long before the Three, judges had based their conclusions on general rules, couching them in the language of universal principles applied to the particular circumstances at hand.

The country was a bustling place then, where people interacted under a regime of mutual freedom.  But that freedom led to many different kinds of legal proceedings.

And as the number of judicial decisions grew, the larger became the palate from which the Three could choose the colors with which to draw their decisions that would bind us all on their canvas.  And so their decisions came to resemble portraits of themselves more closely than ever.  The Three became the Law.

This was to the benefit of all, we were taught.  No longer would citizens have to stake their liberty on predictions based on the application of abstract principle.  Now they could focus their attention on adhering to the decisions of the Three alone.

The bailiff called the court to order.

Today’s trial began as usual.  The claims were brought against the defendants under the Article of the three I’s, each “I” representing one of the Three and symbolizing their collective expression of societal will.

There were two defendants, both wearing the traditional white jumpsuits that symbolize their appearance as two blank slates on which the Three would write their will.

The Three recognized the Citers of Precedent, a corps of professionals dedicated to reminding each of the Three of their previous opinions.  The Citers studied in grand universities, and were tasked with memorizing the Three’s written decisions and contributing toward the Great Academic Project: the synthesis of each of the Three’s opinions into a unified theory capable of predicting their future will, and thereby charting a path within which the citizenry could safely walk.

One of the Citers stated the facts of the case: the defendants considered themselves to be married, and bound by their own vows.

A collective gasp rippled like a gas leak through the spectator galleries.

The two people before the court, said the Citer, were found holding themselves out to their fellow citizens as being bound by their own commitments to each other, when the Precedents had long been understood to negate the practice.  In the estimation of the Three, marriage was an archaic commitment to maintain rules that their own personal experience had revealed to be unwise over time.

“We shall consider the precedents,” said the three in unison, and they retired to their chambers.

We clerks gathered in the library to collect the precedents on which the Three’s decisions would be rendered.

The rows of precedent books wound their way through the library.  The newer volumes, bound in moist shiny leather, gradually gave way to the much older tomes, whose dried covers had wilted whole pages of parched paper, littering the floor in forgotten corners of the building.

I walked over to return some of the fallen pages, and happened to glance at what they contained.  I had apparently found some very early precedent that appeared to cite an Article that preceded the Article of the Three “I’s.”

It was the Article of the One “I.”

I brought the page back to my fellow clerks and asked them if we should include these older precedents in our recommendation to the Three, as it might nudge them into upholding the marriage of the committed couple whose fate the Three held in their hands.

Indeed, the old precedents I had found seemed to resonate with the married couples’ notion that they had built their own household on a foundation that only they could alter -- not the Three or anyone else.  These precedents described how this Article of the One “I” was once part of a larger plan agreed to many years ago.  Under this long-forgotten “Article I,” the laws would be made by those in a “House” composed of “Representatives” chosen by “the People.”  The people in the House would agree on the laws, and those laws would bind everyone until the people in the House agreed to change them.  Not the Three.  The People.

My fellow clerks laughed.  I chuckled, too, and returned the page to its long-forgotten tome.

Very Short Story: The Three "I's"

The Three sat motionless, their black robes hanging straight down as if weighted at the seams, as rigid as the tunics on the marble statues that lined the dais.

They were sometimes compared to the Sun, around which everything moved in precisely predictable orbits.  But after clerking for them, the Three seemed more than ever like a trio of black holes, toward which everything inevitably fell.

Nothing escaped the reach of their opinions.  And so it was a citizen’s prime duty to understand them.

Long before the Three, judges had based their conclusions on general rules, couching them in the language of universal principles applied to the particular circumstances at hand.

The country was a bustling place then, where people interacted under a regime of mutual freedom.  But that freedom led to many different kinds of legal proceedings.

And as the number of judicial decisions grew, the larger became the palate from which the Three could choose the colors with which to draw their decisions that would bind us all on their canvas.  And so their decisions came to resemble portraits of themselves more closely than ever.  The Three became the Law.

This was to the benefit of all, we were taught.  No longer would citizens have to stake their liberty on predictions based on the application of abstract principle.  Now they could focus their attention on adhering to the decisions of the Three alone.

The bailiff called the court to order.

Today’s trial began as usual.  The claims were brought against the defendants under the Article of the three I’s, each “I” representing one of the Three and symbolizing their collective expression of societal will.

There were two defendants, both wearing the traditional white jumpsuits that symbolize their appearance as two blank slates on which the Three would write their will.

The Three recognized the Citers of Precedent, a corps of professionals dedicated to reminding each of the Three of their previous opinions.  The Citers studied in grand universities, and were tasked with memorizing the Three’s written decisions and contributing toward the Great Academic Project: the synthesis of each of the Three’s opinions into a unified theory capable of predicting their future will, and thereby charting a path within which the citizenry could safely walk.

One of the Citers stated the facts of the case: the defendants considered themselves to be married, and bound by their own vows.

A collective gasp rippled like a gas leak through the spectator galleries.

The two people before the court, said the Citer, were found holding themselves out to their fellow citizens as being bound by their own commitments to each other, when the Precedents had long been understood to negate the practice.  In the estimation of the Three, marriage was an archaic commitment to maintain rules that their own personal experience had revealed to be unwise over time.

“We shall consider the precedents,” said the three in unison, and they retired to their chambers.

We clerks gathered in the library to collect the precedents on which the Three’s decisions would be rendered.

The rows of precedent books wound their way through the library.  The newer volumes, bound in moist shiny leather, gradually gave way to the much older tomes, whose dried covers had wilted whole pages of parched paper, littering the floor in forgotten corners of the building.

I walked over to return some of the fallen pages, and happened to glance at what they contained.  I had apparently found some very early precedent that appeared to cite an Article that preceded the Article of the Three “I’s.”

It was the Article of the One “I.”

I brought the page back to my fellow clerks and asked them if we should include these older precedents in our recommendation to the Three, as it might nudge them into upholding the marriage of the committed couple whose fate the Three held in their hands.

Indeed, the old precedents I had found seemed to resonate with the married couples’ notion that they had built their own household on a foundation that only they could alter -- not the Three or anyone else.  These precedents described how this Article of the One “I” was once part of a larger plan agreed to many years ago.  Under this long-forgotten “Article I,” the laws would be made by those in a “House” composed of “Representatives” chosen by “the People.”  The people in the House would agree on the laws, and those laws would bind everyone until the people in the House agreed to change them.  Not the Three.  The People.

My fellow clerks laughed.  I chuckled, too, and returned the page to its long-forgotten tome.

Judge Holds Divorcing Constitution is a Fundamental Right

San Francisco, California--A federal judge in California yesterday held that love is so integral to human happiness that it was his and other judges' "fundamental right" to end their fidelity to the rule of law by divorcing the U.S. Constitution.

"Although our nation's founding document leaves it to legislatures to determine marriage policy, I find that I've lost my love for that old rag of shriveled parchment that says the same thing over and over and over again," wrote the judge in his path-breaking opinion. "I really can't stand to look at it anymore."

"Something as vital as love transcends voters and legislators," the judge concluded. "And no rational reason can allow statutory law enacted by duly-elected representatives within their constitutional authority -- or the people themselves -- to dictate my and other judges' most personal allegiances."

Activist jurists nationwide celebrated the decision.

"For so long, I've been held back by the demands of the Constitution and the larger society," said one judge. "Now, finally, I and other judges are free to decide for ourselves to what we owe our fidelity."

Associated article: Jonathan Rauch

Judge Holds Divorcing Constitution is a Fundamental Right

San Francisco, California--A federal judge in California yesterday held that love is so integral to human happiness that it was his and other judges' "fundamental right" to end their fidelity to the rule of law by divorcing the U.S. Constitution.

"Although our nation's founding document leaves it to legislatures to determine marriage policy, I find that I've lost my love for that old rag of shriveled parchment that says the same thing over and over and over again," wrote the judge in his path-breaking opinion. "I really can't stand to look at it anymore."

"Something as vital as love transcends voters and legislators," the judge concluded. "And no rational reason can allow statutory law enacted by duly-elected representatives within their constitutional authority -- or the people themselves -- to dictate my and other judges' most personal allegiances."

Activist jurists nationwide celebrated the decision.

"For so long, I've been held back by the demands of the Constitution and the larger society," said one judge. "Now, finally, I and other judges are free to decide for ourselves to what we owe our fidelity."

Associated article: Jonathan Rauch

Movie Review -- “Return of the Living Constitution” (Spoiler alert!)

The next zombie-themed blockbuster horror flick is set for release the first Monday in October, but this reviewer received an advance screening of what’s shaping up to be one apocalyptic zombie tale set in the not-too-distant future.

“Return of the Living Constitution” begins at a prestigious law school, where Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia delivers a lecture on the role of a judge, properly understood, which he says is to apply technical interpretive tools to discern what voters or their elected representatives intended by their use of terms ratified as part of the Constitution or enacted into law.

“If the terms of the law are not largely fixed by their meaning as understood when the law was enacted,” says Scalia, “there can be no rule of law, because people will not be subject to rules commonly understood in advance, but rather to the whims of life-tenured judges that are impossible to predict in advance.”

As Scalia speaks, his academic audience, increasingly uneasy with his dry judicial vision, finds itself animated by a raw desire to go beyond the mere application of the law and impose their will on democratic majorities. This hunger quickly mutates into an insatiable lust to impose their political views through constitutional interpretation.

As the questions directed at Scalia grow increasingly unintelligible, and the audience begins to jerkily amble toward him, arms outstretched, Scalia escapes through a window. He gathers his originalist colleagues on the Supreme Court before vast hordes of law students, professors, and advocacy attorneys fill the streets, overturning mail boxes, lamp posts, and popularly enacted statutes that do not clearly violate the Constitution.

The zombies find leaders in the more activist Supreme Court Justices, who command them to overrun Congress and then head for the National Archives, where they intend to devour the U.S. Constitution, which they consider a “living, breathing” document.

Scalia and his originalist colleagues barricade the Archives doors with stacks of Founding-era documents, but the zombies tear through them. It soon becomes apparent that, unlike traditional zombies, these undead can only be killed by a blow to their “gut,” and not their head, as they’re motivated by empathy and “gut feeling” rather than thought.

Just as the swelling zombie hordes are about to reach our nation's founding document, Scalia distracts them with books compiling foreign legal precedents. Waving such volumes as “The Collected Decisions of Zimbabwe,” he temporarily diverts the advancing throngs with a tantalizing new source of interpretive power.

With the zombies otherwise occupied, Scalia grabs the sword from the hands of a nearby statute of “Lady Justice” and begins hacking undead guts in the same biting manner he pens his dissents.

The movie is campy fun for the most part. But by the end I couldn’t help feeling a real sense of dread.

Association article: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB124753085258335815.html; associated video: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6601447644448962468&ei=-WihSZXDGpHEqQL1xI3YDw&q=scalia&hl=en; see also http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3117897142973835232&ei=iGmhSdOOOILorgLrjY3YDw&q=scalia&hl=en&emb=1

Movie Review -- “Return of the Living Constitution” (Spoiler alert!)

The next zombie-themed blockbuster horror flick is set for release the first Monday in October, but this reviewer received an advance screening of what’s shaping up to be one apocalyptic zombie tale set in the not-too-distant future.

“Return of the Living Constitution” begins at a prestigious law school, where Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia delivers a lecture on the role of a judge, properly understood, which he says is to apply technical interpretive tools to discern what voters or their elected representatives intended by their use of terms ratified as part of the Constitution or enacted into law.

“If the terms of the law are not largely fixed by their meaning as understood when the law was enacted,” says Scalia, “there can be no rule of law, because people will not be subject to rules commonly understood in advance, but rather to the whims of life-tenured judges that are impossible to predict in advance.”

As Scalia speaks, his academic audience, increasingly uneasy with his dry judicial vision, finds itself animated by a raw desire to go beyond the mere application of the law and impose their will on democratic majorities. This hunger quickly mutates into an insatiable lust to impose their political views through constitutional interpretation.

As the questions directed at Scalia grow increasingly unintelligible, and the audience begins to jerkily amble toward him, arms outstretched, Scalia escapes through a window. He gathers his originalist colleagues on the Supreme Court before vast hordes of law students, professors, and advocacy attorneys fill the streets, overturning mail boxes, lamp posts, and popularly enacted statutes that do not clearly violate the Constitution.

The zombies find leaders in the more activist Supreme Court Justices, who command them to overrun Congress and then head for the National Archives, where they intend to devour the U.S. Constitution, which they consider a “living, breathing” document.

Scalia and his originalist colleagues barricade the Archives doors with stacks of Founding-era documents, but the zombies tear through them. It soon becomes apparent that, unlike traditional zombies, these undead can only be killed by a blow to their “gut,” and not their head, as they’re motivated by empathy and “gut feeling” rather than thought.

Just as the swelling zombie hordes are about to reach our nation's founding document, Scalia distracts them with books compiling foreign legal precedents. Waving such volumes as “The Collected Decisions of Zimbabwe,” he temporarily diverts the advancing throngs with a tantalizing new source of interpretive power.

With the zombies otherwise occupied, Scalia grabs the sword from the hands of a nearby statute of “Lady Justice” and begins hacking undead guts in the same biting manner he pens his dissents.

The movie is campy fun for the most part. But by the end I couldn’t help feeling a real sense of dread.

Association article: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB124753085258335815.html; associated video: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6601447644448962468&ei=-WihSZXDGpHEqQL1xI3YDw&q=scalia&hl=en; see also http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3117897142973835232&ei=iGmhSdOOOILorgLrjY3YDw&q=scalia&hl=en&emb=1