Citizenship & the Complex Constitution

The original U.S. Constitution did not say much about citizenship. What it did say, in the eleven permutations of “Citizen” in the unamended text, came largely by way of either identifying the qualifications for officials to hold office or marking the scope of national jurisdiction. Articles I and II, for example, establish stringent citizenship requirements for holding congressional and presidential office. Five more “Citizens” come in Article III’s elaboration of the judiciary’s purview, and the final instances in the constitutional text crafted in Philadelphia appear in Article IV. There we read that, “The Citizens of each State shall be entitled to all Privileges and Immunities of Citizens in the several States.” For these provisions, citizenship helped establish either the scope of national judicial authority or the applicability of certain constitutional guarantees.

For all that these constitutional provisions did, they did not define citizenship. No amount of textual exegesis can determine what, for example, being a citizen entailed; nor can interpretation alone yield the process by which one could become a citizen. Instead, the Constitution assumed the existence and legal status of citizenship, and used it to regulate eligibility for national office, calibrate the scope of national jurisdiction, and begin constructing individuals’ relationships with their governments. Underscoring the central role of politics in the ongoing regulation of this status, the Constitution granted to Congress the power, “To establish an uniform Rule of Naturalization.” 

Of course, the Constitution has changed significantly since its creation in 1787. In fact, as many instances of “Citizen” have been added to the Constitution via amendment as were initially included in it. At least as a textual matter, what this suggests—and what a deeper examination of American history reveals in full—is that the contours of American citizenship have been defined more by constitutional development than by original constitutional meaning or practice.

At one level, then, the answer to the question, “What did the Constitution of 1787 say about citizenship?” is, “Not very much.” But it would be wrong to stop there. As is often the case, what the Constitution means—its character, import, and significance—cannot be entirely reduced to the literal stipulations or semantic content of its words. The Constitution is neither merely its text nor is it a law like other laws. It is a fundamental law, one meant not only to provide a durable framework for politics but also to facilitate the realization of particular political goods. Among much else, this is how many of those who created the Constitution understood the nature of their handiwork: as a purposive instrument whose meaning would be forged in the future it anticipated.

So rather than attempt to squeeze directive meaning from the text, we might instead ask what political projects and understandings are consistent with the Constitution’s purposes. In the context of citizenship, this means asking what kind of citizenship the Constitution contemplates. Put another way, what kind of citizens are needed for the Constitution to succeed, given its particular structure and purposes? This is a question that resists simple answers, primarily because the Constitution’s structures are complex and its purposes impossible to fully reconcile. For one thing, the Constitution inaugurated a federal republic in which political authority would be exercised by two levels of government, state and national. And within the national government it established, the Constitution again divided authority among governing institutions. This was the “double security . . . to the rights of the people” that Publius famously described in The Federalist No. 51. This structure also prompted a potent line of attack by the Constitution’s opponents during the ratification debates, who argued that the proposed system of government was too complex for the average citizen to understand, which would undermine its responsibility to the people. As Patrick Henry, one of the leading Anti-Federalists, put it, “this government is of such an intricate and complicated nature, that no man on this earth can know its real operation.”

Furthermore, protecting “the rights of the people” was not the only objective of constitutional government. So too were the establishment of justice, the formation of a “more perfect Union,” the preservation of popular government, the pursuit of social and economic stability, and the maintenance of domestic security. Achieving these things, the Founders knew, would require continuous effort. They are realized over time, with adjustments made amidst changing circumstances through the deliberative politics the Constitution makes possible.

What kind of citizens are needed for the Constitution to succeed, given its particular structure and purposes? This is a question that resists simple answers.

What kind of citizens are needed for such a constitutional order to succeed? To the extent that those citizens are to take an active role in the formation and administration of their government—an unavoidable consequence of the piecemeal democratization of American politics—one central prerequisite is knowledge of how the constitutional system works. The viability of the American constitutional enterprise depends on an informed citizenry, on a popular awareness of how authority is exercised and where responsibility lies amidst considerable complexity. 

But knowledge alone—the affirmation of some “American idea”—cannot guarantee constitutional success. Also necessary is some acquaintance with the habits that make the enduring pursuit of constitutional ends possible. The meaning and requirements of justice, the best way to structure the economy, the proper balance between national security and civil liberties—these are matters on which people disagree and about which one may well be mistaken. Successful constitutional politics thus requires that those who claim membership in the polity are not only familiar with the particular objectives of the constitutional order, but also have experience in the conversations, disagreements, and debates through which those ends are pursued and balanced. 

This, in turn, requires some attachment to the political communities both assumed and inaugurated by the Constitution—a meaningful, lived relationship with the “People” in whose name the Constitution speaks. Indeed, this was the import of the original Constitution’s citizenship requirements. Despite strong disagreements among delegates about how to assess one’s connection to the particularities of American life, the debates at the Constitutional Convention evidence a widespread belief that such a connection was necessary for constitutional success. These debates also reveal the overriding belief that America could make new Americans, that the attachments required for citizenship and constitutional success could be attained through integration into social, political, and economic life. 

The attachments the Constitution presupposes of its citizens are not bonds of blood and soil; nor are they matters of simple ideological assent. They are much more demanding because they are civic bonds, forged in the practices of politics the Constitution has, for nearly two and a half centuries, made possible. While the Constitution the Founders created did not initially say much about citizenship, it nonetheless furnished the institutions and processes by which citizenship has become the indispensable foundation of the nation’s audacious attempt to secure both popular government and the blessings of liberty. Fidelity to that Constitution’s purposes is the first step toward ensuring this remains true.

About the Author

CONNOR M. EWING is Assistant Professor of Political Science at the University of Toronto and Fellow of the Jack Miller Center. He is the author of the forthcoming book, Rediscovering the Founders’ Constitution: The Political Foundations of American Union (Yale University Press).