In the perfectly named book on grammar, Eats, Shoots, and Leaves, a panda is transformed from a peaceful vegetarian into a cold-blooded killer – by two little comas. The author is playfully illustrating the power of the humble coma, but it turns out that, in a similar sentence, his joke has become a reality. The Second Amendment of the US Constitution also features two lethal comas:
A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.
Even someone with no interest in grammar will notice that something’s wrong with this sentence. It simply makes no sense. For 200 years this illogic was politely ignored, until, in recent years, creative lawyers and judges have employed it to throw an entire nation into confusion. Surely there are other reasons why Americans are so fond of guns, but it’s clear that this single messed-up sentence contributes greatly to our present status as gun capital of the world. So let’s fix it:
A well regulated Militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms shall not be infringed.
The meaning of the sentence should now be quite clear. The first clause is not mere “throat clearing” – it has equal weight with the second clause, and the two together convey a single simple thought: that the states must be permitted to keep an armed militia to protect themselves against possible threats – the foremost threat, when the amendment was written, being the armed forces of the federal government.
Taken both literally and in the context of the 18th century, this amendment, properly punctuated, is unambiguous. The justices of the Supreme Court are far more educated than I (or is it me?), so surely they’ve figured this out. And with the correct punctuation, another idea in this sentence comes to the fore: that this state militia must be “well-regulated”. Again, this isn’t some meaningless preamble: the amendment is simultaneously restricting authority of the federal government while delegating that authority –and responsibility – to the states. The second amendment says what it means and means what it says – and was never intended to empower mobs and madmen.
If the states have reason and authority to regulate automobiles, and to license drivers, they have the same authority over guns and gun users. The second amendment in fact implicitly requires states to do this regulating – and to do it “well”.
For most of this country’s history, a common-sense understanding of this amendment has prevailed, so what has changed? Basically, emotions and politics: guns, for some, have come to symbolize two powerful impulses: the desire for freedom, and the fear of losing it. And as the Supreme Court has bent the law to accommodate these sentiments, it’s shown itself to be not the lofty bastion of truth and logic that those dignified robes would suggest. And then the question arises: are these Justices lying to themselves, or just to us?
It’s fun to ponder the truths of the universe, the laws that underpin our reality; and it’s comforting to know that the universe will never lie. We ask it questions; it tells us the truth. Will rain get you wet? Yes. But humans also inhabit a place beyond the laws of physics: we can lie. We each possess this godlike ability, and can wield it so deftly that we even fool ourselves.
In my life, I’ve lied a lot. Many cringes. One can argue that there are virtuous lies; but many of mine clearly were not. So, while fully understanding the mechanisms behind lying, I’ve come to see lies as akin to bedbugs. And I’m pondering this profound power we each have, as I watch our world devolve into a kind of liefest. Maybe it’s always been this way, only now having gotten digital – but don’t these bloodsuckers seem to be getting huge?
Oddly, however big they get, the critters are sometimes hard to spot. A big lie can swallow an entire population with no one seeming to notice. I sometimes recognize my own lies only after years of self-deception. But whether a truth is blatant or evasive as the devil, our inquiries need to start with one crucial ingredient: a desire for truth. And a desire for that desire, and so on.
We assign judges the daunting task of desiring truth, of not giving in to the temptation to lie – of perhaps even seeing past appearances to a deeper truth – and hope that, aided by the props of cloaks and wigs and stately courthouses, they will rise to the occasion. But even Supreme Court justices are evidently quite human; and the problem is that their failures don’t just threaten the legitimacy of an institution; they threaten our trust in truth itself. Amongst our many needed societal transformations, we need to create a judicial system where fearless commitment to truth is rewarded and expected – a goal that will only be reached by a society that has itself learned to hold a desire for truth.
Predictions about climate change are either true or false – which are they? One either does or does not believe in the principles of democracy – which is it? Is it right makes might, or is it the other way around? Do guns kill people, or do people with guns kill people? Or does it matter? One must sometimes reduce things to a simple binary, and then try to make an informed decision. Objective truth is knowable, but first we have to want it. Dear Lord, I pray for a burning desire for truth.
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