In 1912, graduating eighth graders in the U.S. had to grasp more than just facts. They needed an understanding of the republic they were about to engage with.

An average exam covered subjects like grammar, geography, physiology, and the workings of civic government. For instance, students might encounter questions such as:

Define the three branches of the U.S. government.

What are three responsibilities of the president? What does it mean to veto?

Explain democracy, limited monarchy, absolute monarchy, and republics, and provide examples of each.

Name two rights and describe two rights granted by the Constitution.

These weren’t just questions for those aiming to be lawyers or going to college. They were posed to 14-year-olds, many of whom would never step into a classroom again. The expectations were set: understanding the Republic was crucial for becoming a citizen.

Now, consider this: how many members of Alabama’s political elite could actually pass that test?

How many can truly define a republic?

Some might struggle to spell “cerebellum,” yet they often ignore how the Constitution limits governmental power. This doesn’t stop them from enacting laws that restrict rights, alter norms, and reshape freedoms while they criticize the Constitution like it’s a text they’ve barely skimmed.

They trample the Constitution while clamoring for “freedom.” Confusing freedom with control, and public services with personal agendas, they act only when the Constitution threatens their objectives.

This lack of constitutional understanding may not pose as grave a danger as the erosion of checks and balances.

Recently, the U.S. Supreme Court delivered a ruling that grants the president a level of immunity. Such powers are neither found in the Constitution nor envisioned by its framers, and they’ve not existed in law for over two centuries.

This wasn’t interpretative constitutional analysis; it was an outright constitutional creation—an invention designed to shield power from accountability—joining the ranks of other controversial judgments.

And the corruption doesn’t stop at the judiciary.

The Court sidestepped crucial queries, including whether the 14th Amendment’s Section 3 disqualifies insurrectionists from public office. It has entertained discussions on birthright citizenship, a cornerstone of American values. Meanwhile, Congress seems subdued, not due to a loss of power but out of fear, prioritizing self-preservation over upholding oaths.

The separation of powers hasn’t vanished; it’s simply been neglected.

In Alabama, the issues persist. The ruling Republican majority enacts laws resembling theocracy more than those fitting a constitutional republic. They produce legislation that marginalizes vulnerable groups and imposes religious beliefs into public life.

This isn’t fidelity to the Constitution; it’s a shallow interpretation.

Words like “liberal” and “democracy” send many lawmakers into panic mode.

The eighth-grade civics test aimed for students to comprehend each branch of government’s role. In contrast, many modern political figures either don’t know this or, worse, choose to ignore it outright.

It brings to mind Victor Hugo’s tale of Battle with the Cannon, where cannons onboard a ship become chaotic and destructive in a storm. Hugo remarked on how these cannons turn into monsters, no longer serving their intended purpose.

We witness principle-less politics today. A government fueled by envy and unrest; the cannon no longer serves as a weapon but instead has morphed into something sinister.

Yet, amidst the chaos, a figure emerges—not without fear, but resolute. The individual manages to grasp the cannon once again.

This reflects the unsettling hope found in democratic moments—the chance for someone to reclaim what has been lost.

Politics is inherently risky. Human nature is flawed, but if one can navigate with knowledge, conscience, and steady hands, there’s potential for redemption.

Let’s begin with a simple idea. Before making laws, maybe our political elite should pass the same citizenship test that 14-year-olds are expected to understand.

Because if they can’t meet those basic standards, they shouldn’t be wielding the pen.