by David Bryant
Denver, Colorado

The words are so familiar that they slip through our minds leaving scarcely a ripple:

... and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Section 4 of Article IV of the federal Constitution says:

"The United States shall guarantee to every State in this Union a Republican Form of Government, and shall protect each of them against Invasion; and ... against domestic Violence."

What has happened to that simple word? It means less to us today, somehow, than it meant to the men who framed the Constitution two hundred and thirteen years ago. Back then it was a robust term, a bright new vision for human society, bristling with notions of independence and freedom. Today it's a humdrum commonplace -- a clich� -- almost meaningless because it is so familiar.

In the eleventh chapter of The Road to Serfdom, his classic critique of socialism, Friedrich Hayek tells us how the basic meaning of words can be subtly twisted through a process of continuous misuse:

"If one has not one's self experienced this process, it is difficult to appreciate the magnitude of this change of the meaning of words, the confusion which it causes, and the barriers to any rational discussion which it creates. ... [T]he confusion becomes worse because this change of meaning of the words describing political ideals is not a single event but a continuous process, a technique employed consciously or unconsciously to direct the people. Gradually, as this process continues, the whole language becomes despoiled, and words become empty shells deprived of any definite meaning, as capable of denoting one thing as its opposite and used solely for the emotional associations which still adhere to them."

Webster's Third New International Dictionary defines a republic as

2b (1): a government in which supreme power resides in a body of citizens entitled to vote and is exercised by elected officers and representatives responsible to them and governing according to law: Representative Democracy.

The casual observer, then, would say that we are living under a Republican Form of Government today, and that all is as it should be. But if we scratch this veneer, and peer a bit more closely at the common notions which prevailed when the federal Constitution was written, we will soon see how superficial and incomplete Webster's definition really is.

In The Federalist #39, James Madison offered the following definition of a Republic:

"... we may define a republic to be ... a government which derives all its powers from the great body of the people, and is administered by persons holding their offices during pleasure for a limited period, or during good behavior. It is essential to such a government that it be derived from the great body of the society, not from an inconsiderable proportion or a favored class of it; otherwise a handful of tyrannical nobles, exercising their oppressions by a delegation of their powers, might aspire to the rank of republicans ..."

To proceed in this manner, and illustrate by direct quotation the several ideas bound up in the original American conception of a Republic, would require considerable scholarship. It would also occupy more space and consume more time than I have at my disposal today. So here, in summary form, is my understanding of the principle features of the Republican ideal as it existed in the framers' minds -- without the elaborate framework of supporting quotations that could be adduced in a work of more ample dimensions, and contrasted, briefly, with the actual operations of the "republic" in which Coloradans live today.

(1) A true republic is a form of representative government in which governmental power is strictly circumscribed so that it does not trespass on the natural rights of persons within its jurisdiction. A true republic, then, can never devolve into a tyranny of the majority, for the rights of the individual are inviolable.

In theory, at least, American governments still honor this ideal. For example, the third section of Colorado's Bill of Rights says that

"All persons have certain natural, essential and inalienable rights, among which may be reckoned the right of enjoying and defending their lives and liberties; of acquiring, possessing, and protecting property; and of seeking and obtaining their safety and happiness."

(2) In a true republic, power is not concentrated in a few hands, but is distributed into several departments, each of which acts as a check upon the others. We have all heard of the doctrine of separation of powers, and the system of checks and balances. Indeed, the Colorado constitution contains an explicit provision, Article 3, which says

"The powers of the government of this state are divided into three distinct departments, -- the legislative, executive, and judicial; and no person or collection of persons charged with the exercise of powers properly belonging to one of these departments shall exercise any power properly belonging to either of the others, except as in this constitution expressly directed or permitted."

But what has happened in practice? The legislature has delegated its law-making authority to several executive agencies as, for example, the Division of Insurance, which issues regulations purporting to have the force of law. And this was not done "as in this constitution expressly directed" -- it was done with a simple legislative enactment. Similarly, several executive agencies have established their own rules of adjudication, thus usurping the authority lawfully reserved to the judiciary. Twenty-five years ago, when I first moved to Colorado, these kangaroo courts were usually called "hearings," and the people presiding over them were known as "hearing officers." Today the same people are called "administrative law judges," and the rooms in which the hearings are held are called "administrative courts."

Even the judicial department has assumed unlawful legislative powers. While there is a specific grant of rule-making authority to the supreme court of Colorado (constitution, Article 6, Section 21), such authority is restricted to "administration of all courts," and to "practice and procedure in civil and criminal cases." But in Colorado, the judiciary has defined an offense ("contempt") for which a punishment is prescribed, and against which the right of trial by jury may not be asserted -- all in direct violation of Colorado's fundamental law.

Indeed, the petit jury -- which is, or ought to be, the most important check upon the power of Colorado government -- has been attacked by the judges (in collusion with the district attorneys) and has now been so completely undermined that criminal defendants rarely obtain the "trial by jury" to which they are entitled. Yes, there are twelve persons in the jury box. Yes, they weigh the evidence and return a "verdict." But are they really a jury? No -- because the judicial department has prescribed procedures to keep independent thinkers off the panel, and routinely forces prospective jurors to take an oath which prevents them from serving in their proper capacity: as a final check on the government's power to mete out punishment.

(3) A true republic is a government of laws, and not of men. We've all heard this old saw, which is directly tied to the concept of equal protection. Once again, in theory, this restriction is still in place, for the Colorado constitution (Bill of Rights, Section 6) declares that

"Courts of justice shall be open to every person, and a speedy remedy afforded for every injury to person, property, or character; and right and justice ... administered without sale, denial or delay."

Is this the Liberty and Justice for All we learned about in school? If you and a gang of your buddies had burst into Mena's bedroom with guns blazing, would you expect to get off on a misdemeanor charge? Why should police officers face lesser penalties than anyone else would when they violate the law?

(4) A true republic is instituted for the benefit of every peaceful person, and does not provide benefits to the members of a special class at the expense of everyone else. This vital principle is enshrined in the very first section of Colorado's Bill of Rights, which reads

"All political power is vested in and derived from the people; all government, of right, originates from the people, is founded on their will only, and is instituted for the good of the whole."

In theory, then, this important restraint upon the exercise of governmental power is firmly in place. But everyone knows that modern government is, in practice, a war among special interests. Lobbyists pursue the members of the general assembly even when the legislature is not in session. Why would they expend great sums of money to alter the course of legislation unless there were some gain in it for them?

Amazingly enough, the single largest group of lobbyists in Colorado today represents the various counties, municipalities, school districts, and special districts into which state government is subdivided. In other words, the most influential special interests in the state are public entities which use the tax money they collect directly to entreat state government for even more money which they hope will be passed through to them indirectly. A more egregious violation of this fundamental principle underlying true republican government can scarcely be imagined!

(5) In a truly republican society, there is no professional class of political persons. Elected officials should be drawn from the ranks of the common people, they should serve their country for a limited period of time, and then they should return to private life. A few appointed officials (eg, judges) might indeed enjoy a lifetime tenure, but even these few would, ideally, choose to resign after some reasonable interval of time. In this way the persons making and administering the laws would be continuously exposed to the direct effects those laws were having on society at large, and the laws themselves would tend to redound to "the good of the whole."

In practice, of course, there is a great chasm between the professional politicians and career bureaucrats and the rest of the population. The pros have their own special (and publicly funded) retirement plans and medical insurance -- everyone else gets social security and Medicare. They get free gasoline, chauffeurs, and generous expense allowances -- we get to pay more taxes.

The recent movement toward term limits has cut into the tenure of particular politicians in particular offices. But as the game of house-to-senate musical chairs was played out in Colorado this year, it became obvious that longevity in some public office or another is still possible. Many of the term-limited reps ("Republicans," of course) sought and obtained positions in Bill Owens' executive department. And tenure in the civil service is still a very desirable thing -- in the eyes of those who hold it.

The fears of the anti-federalists -- that a privileged class might one day arise to rule over the common people in a monarchical manner while retaining the republican forms -- have in large measure materialized. In less than a month George the Third will ascend to the Presidency, and a magnificent pageant of imperial pomp and circumstance will mark that regal occasion. Very few Americans will view the spectacle with clear unblinking eyes and see how deep a wound is thus inflicted on our longsuffering republic.

(6) In a true republic, the citizens themselves are virtuous, and the government must be good, for the people will not allow it to degenerate. This concept of "republican virtue" is not easily explained to many modern observers, for virtue itself has become unpopular. Perhaps a few examples of things the framers and their contemporaries talked about will serve to illustrate this point.

Writing in Philadelphia in October, 1787, Samuel Bryan, a Pennsylvania anti-federalist who styled himself "Centinel," made these remarks:

"A republican, or free government, can only exist where the body of the people are virtuous, and where property is pretty equally divided; in such a government the people are the sovereign and their sense or opinion is the criterion of every public measure; for when this ceases to be the case, the nature of the government is changed, and an aristocracy, monarchy, or despotism will rise on its ruin."

"[W]hat is to restrain the House of Representatives from making legal discriminations in favor of themselves and a particular class of the society? I answer ... the vigilant and manly spirit which actuates the people of America -- a spirit which nourishes freedom, and in return is nourished by it.

"If this spirit shall ever be so far debased as to tolerate a law not obligatory on the legislature, as well as on the people, the people will be prepared to tolerate anything but liberty."

For many years after the Revolution the Order of the Cincinnati, a club composed of men who served as officers under George Washington during the war, was a respected American institution. Its members thought of themselves as having been cast in the mold of Cincinattus. When danger threatened, they left their farms to become soldiers and, when the danger was past, they laid down their arms and returned to a bucolic existence once again. A remnant of that semi-secret society  still exists today. But very few Americans remember the story of Cincinattus, or the "republican virtue" that was the hallmark of his brief but brilliant public career.

That the words "republic" and "virtue" are no longer closely associated in the popular imagination is the saddest commentary on our country's history one could possibly imagine. Yes, there are still plenty of people who realize that prosperity and happiness are each individual's private responsibility. But in actual practice far, far too many Americans are willing and even eager to look at the government as some sort of glorified candy factory. Like children, we look to Uncle Sam as the source of all good things, and call upon the government to solve our purely personal problems.

Can the republican ideals which animated the framers ever be rekindled? Is there still a spark of that "vigilant and manly spirit which actuates the people of America" left alive in our country today? Or is the living essence of free republican government lost to us forever? And are we therefore doomed to live in a "representative democracy" for the rest of our days?

Time alone will tell the tale. One thing is certain. We will never live in a real Republic until the vast majority of our compatriots come to understand what self-government is really all about.

At this Christmas season, standing on the cusp of a new millennium, those of us who still cherish the ideal of true republican government -- based on the concepts of limited authority, individual liberty, and personal responsibility -- ought fervently to hope and pray that this beautiful word, Republic, will soon be restored to its former luster. May our daily lives shine as vibrant examples of the republican virtue which is the necessary ground for Liberty -- and may our neighbors learn from those examples what that tarnished and neglected term, Republic, really ought to mean.