It should be evident to all, since it refers to, sustains, and encompasses everyone and everything, it should not itself cause trouble to anyone.
What should be, “but is not, does not get written in the register.” Perhaps from this common, folk belief stems the linguistic and functional stagnation of many constitutions.
The more erudite, those not devoid of deep and extensive jurisprudence, constitutionalists refine the wording and interpretation of constitutional articles, the fainter the idea of the constitution in everyday reality appears. A reality that reduces everything, as far as possible, to the simplicity of a game for all. To a game fast, hard, so obvious that our eyes widen in fear.
Is the banal, repetitive act of re-writing a text fragment, already printed in sufficient numbers, of any real use? Does re-writing a text, which instantly appears on the screen, allow someone nearby, often smaller, younger, struggling more, to explain the most important principles of our daily activities?
This time it’s not about the text, not about the language, not about the inevitable errors and mistakes. We do not collect, we do not ask about preferences. We do not track habits. We are rewriting the Constitution to the last dot, and it’s about something that is one of the sources of spontaneity in each of us, it’s about memory and attention. Private memory, dreamed attention, spontaneous.
One can be satisfied, but must be demanding, attentive, thirsty for novelty and culture. One cannot succumb to apathy, then one cannot enliven the Things important to us, and these Things must continually, anew, endlessly be enlivened – even when others say that they are so commonplace that they are not worth writing down. Common Things are everywhere, even where fiber optics have not yet been laid. What else do we need? A Constitution, constitutio as a principle, principles, a principium defining the limits of spontaneity the same for everyone, fairly, openly, simply?
Common Things need to be rewritten to the last dot.
We try to write calmly, confidently, but without obsequious affectation, in the face of that which, like a spirit, supposedly hovers over the letter. This is probably an imperfect, but our Constitution. We write together to get used to a coherent, clear, personal movement, which may come in handy when the level of uncertainty rises. We write so as not to have to be so afraid. We try to write together because then people sometimes start talking and it turns out that someone standing nearby will help, without the need for ringing alarm bells.
