Two houses (being the second part)

 The United Stated Congress is made up of two houses: the Senate and the House of Representatives. The number of Senators is set by the United States Constitution: at two per state, there are 100. The number of Representatives was set by statute in the early 20th century, when it was realized things were getting out of hand and was accordingly capped far too late at an entirely unwieldy 435 (441 if you include non-voting delegates). 

This vast numerical disparity has led to very different styles of operation. The Senate, due to its relatively small size, gives each member opportunities to speak, debate and serve on important committees even while new to the institution. (In theory, this also allows senators to pursue regional agendas as avidly as ideological ones, but this feature has been waning as the type of candidate elected has tended to be increasingly partisan over the last couple decades.) In the House, seniority is everything and parties strive to maintain strict control over their members. There are just too many Congresspersons running around to let everyone have an equal voice in the chamber's operations.

Each house and its manner of doing business has its own strengths and weaknesses, most of which are dictated by necessity. The particular genius of the bicameral legislature is to ensure that those weaknesses never prove fatal because both houses must agree in order for legislation to pass. This system therefore allows us to benefit from each house's strengths without (necessarily) falling victim to its weaknesses.

This is all fairly elementary stuff that should have been covered in your high school civics class, if American high schools still taught civics. I bring it up not because I think you ignorant (after all, you're a reader of this blog, demonstrating thereby rare taste, refinement, education and, almost certainly, above-average height and physical attractiveness) but because it offers insight into the general assemblies of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and the Presbyterian Church in America.

The OPC's General Assembly is strictly capped at 155: its debate (supposedly) mirrors that of the U.S. Senate with lengthy speeches and much freedom for individual commissioners to pursue idiosyncratic agendas. Not so the PCA's General Assembly, which may include all teaching elders and two ruling elders from each congregation. (The "may" is emphasized because each commissioner must pay his own way and so it's never been the case that everyone who is eligible to serve at the PCA GA has actually registered to do so.) Given this rule, along with the fact that the PCA is over twelve times the size of the OPC, the PCA's GA is much larger than the OPC's and so tends to mirror many of the operational tendencies of the U.S. House of Representatives: commissioners voting according to group affiliation (however defined), less allowance given to debate, low tolerance for idiosyncratic agendas.

As with the two Houses of the United States Congress, each assembly's approach to its membership, and the concomitant operational style of each, has its own strengths and weaknesses. However, while we hope (often against hope, bitter experience and reason itself) that the weaknesses of each House of Congress will be negated by the strengths of the other, no such hope exists for the two General Assemblies. Because each is the highest court of its respective denomination, the rulings of the one cannot impact the other, and so each General Assembly, and the denomination it serves, may eventually fall victim to its own weaknesses. 

I offer this analysis for two reasons: first, I've not seen anyone else draw this comparison; and second, I have thoughts, to be offered at another time.

Two houses (being the first part)

 In one sense, all history is revisionist history in the sense that every new piece of historiography seeks to revise our understanding of that which we previously knew. There would be no point in writing a new biography of Abraham Lincoln, for instance, if one had absolutely no original insights to offer (other than as a cynical ploy to gain tenure at a university, but we will not speak of such things).

In that manner, and as one long exhausted by my homeland's willful ignorance of the felt experience of racism on our shores, I was intrigued by The 1619 Project's stated goal of reframing American history through the lens of the black experience. I found much of its contribution to the American historical project rewarding, but sadly, some of its least helpful arguments seem to have gained the most traction. The one which most irks me is the contention that the creation of a Senate alongside a House of Representatives was primarily a scheme to permanently  invest political power in slave-holding interests.

Really? A bicameral legislature because racism? Not because every European nation, including and especially Great Britain, which just happens to have been the nation of which the original 13 States were a part, has a bicameral legislature? (Not to mention Virginia, whose form of government was basically copied wholesale by the 1787 Constitution, which I am obliged to mention because I graduated from a Virginian public high school and university.) At this point, The 1619 Project goes from completely reasonable lower-case-r revisionism to 1984 memory hole upper-case-R Revisionism which is plausible only to those operating with utter ignorance of the foundations of our form of government. Which is to say, Americans who have attended elite private universities.

I am particularly irked because this narrative seems to have gained a great deal of traction with a class of Americans (i.e., Americans who live in overpopulated cities on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts) who are dismayed that states with remarkably few residents (looking at you, Wyoming) get just as many Senators as do California and New York. While my listening habits may be unusual, I'm hearing an increasing number of complaints that this arrangement is not only suspect (because racism), it is anti-democratic.

To which I can only say: That's the point.

The peculiar genius of the American experiment in self-government is not a bicameral legislature: everybody has one of those (except for Nebraska, about which the less said the better). Instead, it is in composing its upper legislative house not from a political/social class (as in Great Britain, about which the less said the better), but from a conscious recognition that political decisions are driven as much by lived experience as by ideology. Westerners understand the value of water in a way that easterners never can. (Having recently relocated from Colorado to Ohio, I am constantly appalled by how much water the locals here waste. It's as though they think it falls from the sky.) The House of Representatives gives full weight to our nation's massed populations, but the Senate exists to ensure that the majority cannot unilaterally impose its will on States in which they do not live.

That might frustrate those with majoritarian instincts, but as a citizen who remains sympathetic to my friends in the West, I think it a good thing. Along with the separation of powers, it not only makes us a republic, but the greatest Republic which this sad world has yet seen. 

And that is a very good thing.