The Constitution Party: Because Reality Wasn’t Originalist Enough

If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if you cross-bred a pocket Constitution, a time machine stuck on the year 1789, and a Facebook uncle who thinks the IRS is a front for lizard people, you don’t need to wonder anymore. The Constitution Party already exists. And boy, do they have thoughts—mostly about how the United States should return to an era before indoor plumbing, universal suffrage, and the concept of weekends.

Let’s begin with their core belief: “strict constitutional originalism.” Sounds tidy, right? Except the Constitution Party’s version of originalism isn’t about what the Constitution actually says. No, that would be far too straightforward. Their version is more like the Constitution as remembered by someone who skimmed a YouTube summary of the Federalist Papers while half-asleep.

Take the 14th Amendment. You know—the one that explains how citizenship works. The Constitution Party has decided that the text doesn’t say what it clearly says. According to them, if you were born here, but your parents weren’t pre-approved by their personal interpretation of James Madison’s ghost, then—sorry kid—you’re out. If you point out that the 14th Amendment explicitly guarantees birthright citizenship, they respond with something like: “Well, yes, but not in spirit.” The “spirit,” of course, being whatever they personally wish the Constitution said, usually involving an eagle, a Bible quote, and a firm handshake.

Then there’s their obsession with the 17th Amendment, the one that lets voters elect their senators directly instead of having state legislatures pick them behind closed doors. Most people hear “direct democracy” and think, “Hey, that seems good.” The Constitution Party hears it and screams, “Tyranny!” Their platform openly argues that the 17th Amendment violates the very Constitution that contains the 17th Amendment—an impressive ouroboros of political logic where the snake eats not just its tail but the entire federal government.

You might also enjoy their feelings about federal agencies. They’d like to dismantle most of them. The EPA? Gone. The Department of Education? Unconstitutional. The IRS? A fever dream of tyranny. It’s unclear who will track pollution or manage national education standards, but don’t worry—they assure us everything will be handled at the local level, presumably by volunteers, sheriffs, or that one guy in every county who knows how to use Excel.

And while we’re here, let’s talk about religion. The Constitution Party insists the United States is a Christian nation, citing absolutely none of the actual Constitution because it, awkwardly, doesn’t mention Christianity a single time. This doesn’t stop them. They simply do what they do best: apply the “spirit” interpretation again, claiming the Founders wanted biblical law to be the backbone of governance. You might point out that Article VI says there can be no religious test for public office. They might say that’s fake news. You might respond that the Constitution literally says it. They might counter with: “But what if we squint really hard at it?”

The Constitution Party also supports an immigration policy best described as “Ellis Island but with lasers.” Their platform includes strict controls, sweeping restrictions, and a general vibe that suggests they believe the Statue of Liberty’s poem is less “Give me your tired, your poor” and more “Give me your meticulously vetted with a notarized purity affidavit.” It’s a bold stance for a country where nearly everyone’s ancestors arrived speaking a different language and having absolutely no idea what a fork was.

And then there’s taxes. The party’s dream scenario is abolishing federal income tax entirely, which sounds pretty great until you wonder how things like highways, medical research, federal courts, and national defense get funded. Perhaps they imagine the Founders left behind a treasure chest buried under Mount Vernon. More likely, they assume the free market will spontaneously generate an interstate system through the power of bootstrap economics and positive vibes.

To their credit, the Constitution Party does deliver consistency. Their platform is essentially the political equivalent of a time capsule designed by someone who loved the 18th century but hated everything that has happened since. They want small government—very small government—so small, in fact, that it might not exist. And while most Americans (including many conservatives) prefer electricity, infrastructure, and functioning institutions, the Constitution Party longs for a nation governed exactly as it was when “going viral” referred to smallpox.

But the real charm of the Constitution Party is that it believes it represents the true America. The OG America. The Founders’ America. An America that never actually existed anywhere except in sentimental imaginations and 1950s sitcom reruns. Their ideal United States is a place where families attend church, schools teach Latin, money grows on unregulated trees, and citizens only ever need two books: the Constitution and the Bible—preferably leather-bound, preferably displayed on a walnut table next to a bald eagle figurine.

So next time you meet someone excited about the Constitution Party, don’t mock them. Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t even point out that the Founders they idolize often disagreed with each other so violently they practically invented subtweeting via handwritten letters.

Just nod politely, take a deep breath, and remember:
America is a big place.
There’s room for everyone—
even people who want to live in a country that stopped evolving in 1789.