Our nation’s constitutional ground rules lovingly vow that “the powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.”
Ah, “the people.” Aren’t they cute? They just sit there, sort of like puppies waiting for a meal. Once the federal government and the state government are done micromanaging almost every aspect of their lives (want to buy wine on Sunday, in Connecticut, in a grocery store? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha), “the people” are then free to pursue mildly regulated happiness, within reason, unless it really makes them happy.
The legal environment has sufficiently blurred the distinction between “federal” and “state” to eliminate that as much of a factor in how the world works. And for the thimble-full of things that, in theory, still belong to “the people,” the states (especially, tax-and-spend, regulation-crazy, “progressive” Northeastern states) sneak in the back door and take all that away, too.
The government operates in relatively easy battlefields, supported by legalisms that suggest when “public health and safety” is involved, government can act, relatively unfettered. Regulatory agencies are shown “deference,” which suggests that even when “experts” are sort-of-stupid or liberty-gobbling, they usually have a green light to muck around.
Occasionally, “the people” stumble upon a friendly judge who demands that the state have a “compelling interest” to stomp on the little people, but the government boys can usually find a way to create the need — and make it sound compelling.
This is not to suggest that every government intrusion is a dangerous step toward tyranny; or that “the people” can’t, on occasion, beat off the government dogs with rolled-up copies of the Constitution. Often, the clash between government and “the people” can border on the hilarious, or, be obscure to the point of befuddlement.
Ponder the legislation that popped up in the General Assembly session, when you thought that all the legislators were concerned with was the recession-battered budget. The bill proposed banning “novelty lighters;” that is, lighters that look like cartoon characters, or sing to you, or are in some other way novel enough to be of interest to little kids, who will proceed to play with the lighter and burn down the neighborhood.
If the scenario seems a bit extravagant to justify government capital punishment of a commercial product, be assured that the “public health and safety” mantra would invariably win the day. The days of the novelty lighter are numbered. For reasons having less to do with Libertarian fervor and more to do with legislative distraction, the lighter bill didn’t pass. Similar legislation has popped up across the country, with the leave-us-alone politicians in such places as Florida and Texas and Arizona voting it down; and the Libertarian cowboys in such places as New Hampshire and Wyoming and Idaho and Alaska, not even considering it.
In 11 states, the evil, demon lighters have been banished. To leave such an issue to the tender mercies of state legislatures is not the instinct of ObamaLand. A federal bill to ban the lighters, co-sponsored by Connecticut’s very own U.S. Sen. Chris Dodd, is floating around Congress, waiting to be ignited.
In a very subdued kind of way, one could light up a cigar (with a boring, ordinary lighter) and congratulate the government colossus for its fervor in support of public safety. Or, if you were cranky, you could ask the political boys and girls what they might have been doing if they hadn’t been stomping out the scourge of fun lighters.
Laurence D. Cohen is a freelance writer.
