Get me rewrite!

THE TERM `'DEMOCRATIC DEFICIT" has become a staple of contemporary political analysis, especially with regard to the politics of the European Union. It usually refers to the failure of certain European institutions to meet contemporary criteria for democratic self-governance. I have no particular expertise in determining the truth of such charges with regard to Europe. But I am, sadly, quite confident that such a charge is altogether accurate with regard to our own political order here in the United States.

I'm not alone. Some analysts point to the corrupting influence of money in our electoral process; others focus on partisan gerrymandering, which in effect allows representatives to choose their voters rather than the other way around. Nor can one ignore the menacing secretiveness of the Bush administration, which has made decisions of literally life-and-death importance without deigning to consult Congress.

These are serious problems well worth the attention of anyone concerned about the health of the American political system. But it is too easy to focus such critiques on particular individuals and to believe that winning the next election will in fact put us on the path back to political health. What too few Americans realize is that the primary source of our own democratic deficit may be our Constitution itself.

"The warmest friends and the best supporters the Constitution has do not contend that it is free from imperfections," George Washington wrote his nephew only two months after the conclusion of the Philadelphia convention. `'I do not think we are more inspired, have more wisdom, or possess more virtue, than those who will come after us."

Washington was typical of the Framers in being attentive to the lessons of experience. They believed we should be unafraid to disrupt even established institutions should they be found wanting. We should follow their example.

So join me, if you will, in the following thought experiment: Imagine that the United States Constitution, like that of New York State, contained a provision whereby every 20 years the electorate could vote for a new constitutional convention that could assess the Constitution and recommend changes. If this were such a year, I would without hesitation vote in favor of a new convention.

We have gone far too long without a serious national conversation about what our experience teaches us about the adequacy of the Constitution, and we are paying an immense price for this failure.

. . .

It is all too easy to lay out what lawyers might call a bill of particulars against the Constitution. Perhaps the best way to present them is by asking a series of questions:

Do you support giving Wyoming the same number of Senate votes as California, which has roughly 70 times the population?

Do you support giving Wyoming the same number of Senate votes as California, which has roughly 70 times the population?

Are you comfortable with an Electoral College that, among other things, has regularly placed in the White House candidates who did not get a majority of the popular vote? In 2000, George W. Bush didn't even finish in first place.

Is the country unequivocally benefited by a system whereby a president can frustrate the will of a majority of both houses of Congress by vetoing legislation with which he disagrees on political grounds? Recall that over our 220-year history, the Supreme Court has invalidated approximately 165 federal laws, most of them of relatively little importance. US presidents, on the other hand, have vetoed 2,501 laws, many of them of great import.

Is it desirable that the Constitution, which allows the impeachment of a president who commits `'high crimes and misdemeanors," provides no language or process suitable for ridding ourselves of a president whose ineptness is recognized by a substantial majority of the population?

Does it make sense that a repudiated president--that is, an incumbent defeated in a national election--maintains the presidency for a full 10 weeks beyond Election Day, fully capable of making policy decisions that may drastically affect the future of the United States? In Great Britain, a new prime minister replaces a defeated incumbent the very next day.

Do you really want justices on the Supreme Court to serve up to four decades and, among other things, to be able to time their resignations to mesh with their own political preferences as to their successors? Almost no other country has genuine `'life tenure." Most countries have either mandated retirement or specific terms, ranging from nine to 15 years.

Do you support the ability of 13 legislative houses in as many states to block constitutional amendments desired by the overwhelming majority of Americans as well as, possibly, 86 out of the 99 legislative chambers in the American states? (There are only 99 because Nebraska, very sensibly, given its size, has opted for a unicameral Legislature.) Political scientist Donald Lutz has determined that the United States has the most difficult-to-amend constitution in the world.

If you answer affirmatively to all of these questions, you can truly call yourself a proud supporter of our Constitution who would without hesitation cast a vote to maintain the status quo. If, on the other hand, you share my own negative response to all, or even some of them, then you are acknowledging that ours is a distinctly imperfect Constitution and that we should take up Washington's invitation to ask if it is indeed serving us well.

Although, as noted above, the Constitution is extremely difficult to amend, Article V does offer a means of calling a new constitutional convention, at least as a mechanism for proposing amendments. It was placed in the Constitution explicitly to offer a way around potential legislative stasis encouraged, perhaps, by legislators' fear that changes would threaten their own political welfare. As the political scientist John P. Roche once said, paraphrasing the famous statement by Lord Acton, `'Power corrupts, and the prospect of losing power corrupts absolutely."

Unfortunately, the prospect of losing power may also thwart any attempt to call a new convention. According to Article V, a new convention is triggered by the petition of 34 states. It is probably unrealistic to believe that 34 states will agree to a full-scale convention, especially if the issues to be considered include the composition of the Senate and the use of the Electoral College to elect our presidents, both of which advantage either small states (the Senate) or a combination of small states and large `'battleground" states (the Electoral College).

Yet the Senate and the Electoral College are among our most grievously flawed institutions. The Senate is not only an affront to our basic value of one-person/one vote; it also acts as the political mechanism by which tax revenues from large states along the Atlantic and Pacific end up disproportionately in the hands of residents of small states, especially in the upper Midwest and Rocky Mountain area, where approximately 5 percent of the national population controls almost a quarter of the vote in the Senate. Much publicity was given last year to the `'bridge to nowhere" voted by Congress for Alaska. Less publicity was given to the fact that such indefensible boondoggles are directly traceable to the Constitution's allocation of voting power in the Senate.

As boondoggles go, `'bridges to nowhere" may seem almost charmingly old-fashioned. But there is nothing charming about funding formulas that award Wyoming three times ($27.80) the per capita Homeland Security spending received by Massachusetts ($9.77)--though perhaps we should take neighborly pleasure that each Vermonter receives $23.83 worth of protection. Nor is there anything charming about an Electoral College system that works to make non-battleground states (a primary example being Massachusetts), nearly irrelevant, as attention is paid (and commitments made) almost exclusively to the lucky residents of the few battlegrounds.

. . .

The current midterm election campaigns, as is proper, are focused on issues of the moment, many of them of the highest importance. But we also need a national campaign that focuses on the less visible--and equally important--consequences of our still operating in the political structures established in 1787.

It may be that the greatest difference between Washington's generation and ours, ironically, is that most of the Founders--Hamilton was a noted exception--believed that `'We the people" had the capacity to reflect on constitutional issues. Today, most people--especially, I fear, those who label themselves `'progressive"--seem almost terrified of their fellow citizens.

It would be foolish to discount fears of populist politics. But it also spells the death of any kind of democratic faith if we are unwilling, out of fear, to engage one another in serious conversation about our common future and whether the current Constitution is a help or hindrance in achieving our national goals.

Needed constitutional change will obviously not happen in a day or even, most likely, a few years. But only if serious discussion begins now--and the long, hard work of political mobilization begins as well--will it be thinkable, as the country faces further fundamental crises that are in part caused by the Constitution, to rise to the example of our courageous and visionary Founders and craft a Constitution that is suitable for the 21st century.

Sanford Levinson teaches at the University of Texas Law School and is the author of `'Our Undemocratic Constitution: Where the Constitution Goes Wrong (and How We the People Can Correct It)" (Oxford).