America's Forgotten Holiday: The Case for a *Celebrated* Constitution Day

In this episode, Crime and Popular Culture Office Hours takes a brief departure from the American Crime Landscapes series to examine a different kind of artifact. Instead of analyzing a film, television show, or work of literature, we turn our attention to perhaps the most influential artifact in American criminal justice: the United States Constitution.

Why do Americans celebrate Independence Day with fireworks, parades, and family traditions while Constitution Day passes with relatively little notice? Is the Declaration of Independence simply more compelling, or have we overlooked the document that has shaped our government, protected our liberties, and structured our criminal justice system for two and a half centuries?

Host Kevin Buckler explores the Constitution as a cultural artifact, traces the history of Constitution Day, examines how the Constitution and the Bill of Rights influence everyday criminal justice, and argues that Constitution Day deserves to stand alongside Independence Day as one of America's great civic holidays. Along the way, he reflects on a personal experience that sparked this idea and imagines what a true national celebration of constitutional literacy could look like.

The American experiment did not end with independence. It began there. The Constitution ensured it could endure.

Transcript

Long before I became a professor, I had what may still be the strangest job title I've ever held. I was a runner for a law firm in Lexington, Kentucky.

I've always thought "runner" was an odd title. Lawyers are famous for using lots of words. In their contracts, briefs, depositions, motions, and opinions. A profession built on language somehow gave one of its employees a job title consisting of a single word. Runner.

My job was to keep the firm moving. On any given day, I might deliver legal filings to the courthouse, pick up records from government offices, transport documents between attorneys, or make trips to clients. Before electronic filing became commonplace, someone had to physically move papers from one place to another. And that someone was often the runner. It wasn't glamorous work. But it gave me a front row seat to the legal system and introduced me to some remarkable people.

On any given day there were 4 to 6 runners, mostly college students, working for the firm. 

Whenever the pace slowed, we'd find ourselves talking about politics, government, history, and current events. We didn't always agree, but we enjoyed the conversations. Looking back, I probably learned as much during those discussions as I did in some of my college classes.

One runner was named Aaron.

One spring, the law firm decided to do a little cleaning. Stored away were two framed prints that were no longer wanted. One was the Declaration of Independence. The other was the United States Constitution.

Aaron and I both wanted one. He immediately claimed the Declaration of Independence. I took the Constitution.

I remember feeling like I had gotten the better end of the deal. To me, the Constitution was the more significant document. It established our government. It divided power. It created the institutions that still govern us today. It protects our liberties and defines the rules under which our justice system operates. I walked away convinced I had claimed the prize.

The funny thing was that Aaron felt the same way. He was convinced he had gotten the better document.

At the time, I couldn't understand why.

Years later, I realized we were each valuing something different. The Declaration of Independence tells the story of America's birth. The Constitution tells the story of how America governs itself.

One became the centerpiece of our greatest national holiday. The other became a date that most Americans couldn't identify if you asked them.

That has always struck me as a little odd.

In this episode, I'd like to make the case that perhaps we've been celebrating only half of the American story.

What Happened on September 17th?

Welcome to Crime & Pop Culture Office Hours. I'm your host, Kevin Buckler. This is a space where we examine movies, television, news, music, and other popular culture artifacts. Not simply as sources of information or entertainment. But as cultural evidence. As artifacts that reveal how we think about crime, justice, power, and culture.

Imagine walking into a room of educated Americans and asking a simple question: What happened on September 17? Most people would hesitate. Some might guess it was a battle. Others might think it marks the beginning of a war or the end of one. Many would simply shrug.

Now ask what happened on July 4. The answer comes instantly. Fireworks. Independence. The birth of America.

But here's the irony. July 4 celebrates the nation's Declaration of Independence. September 17 celebrates the document that tells us how that nation governs itself.

On September 17, 1787, delegates in Philadelphia signed the United States Constitution. It is the framework that defines the powers of government, limits those powers, and protects the liberties of its citizens. Every police officer who conducts a search. Every prosecutor who files charges. Every judge who presides over a trial. Every juror who reaches a verdict. Every citizen who invokes a constitutional right. They are all participating in a system built upon that document.

And yet, Constitution Day passes almost unnoticed each year.

So, in this episode, I want to make a simple argument. Constitution Day should not be an obscure observance tucked away on the calendar. It should be one of America's great civic holidays. A day devoted not to partisan politics. But to understanding the remarkable document that continues to shape our lives, our freedoms, and our criminal justice system nearly two and a half centuries after it was signed.

Some listeners may have come expecting an American Crime Landscapes episode. I will be back next week with an episode in this series. Since we just wrapped up celebrating the 250th birthday of America. And because with America's participation in the World Cup, patriotism has been on the calendar. I decided to take a brief detour from the American Crime Landscapes project. 

The Constitution as America's Greatest Artifact

Before we go any further, I want to address what some of you may be thinking.

Kevin, this is Crime and Popular Culture Office Hours. Why are we talking about the Constitution? Isn't this a podcast about movies, television, books, and music?

The answer is yes. But it is also about something much broader. This podcast has never really been about entertainment. It has always been about artifacts.

An artifact is any human creation that tells us something about the people who made it. And about the society in which they lived. Sometimes that artifact is a horror film like Halloween. Sometimes it is a television series like The Wire. Sometimes it is a song, a novel, or even a news story. We study these artifacts because they reveal what a culture fears, what it values, and how it understands justice, authority, crime, and punishment.

By that definition, the Constitution may be the most important artifact in American history.

Think about it. It is a written document created by people confronting one of the most difficult questions any society can face. How do you create a government powerful enough to maintain order but restrained enough to preserve liberty?

That tension is the foundation of criminal justice.

Give government too little power and it cannot protect its citizens. Give government too much power and it becomes the very threat from which citizens need protection.

The Constitution does not eliminate that tension. It manages it.

Unlike the films we usually discuss, the Constitution is not fiction. Yet it tells a story. It tells us what the Founders feared. They feared concentrated power. They feared arbitrary government. They feared the loss of individual liberty. At the same time, they understood that a nation without laws, courts, and institutions could not survive.

The Constitution is, in many ways, America's operating manual. It tells us who may exercise power, how that power is divided, and where its limits lie. Every generation since 1787 has inherited that manual, debated its meaning, amended it, challenged it, and relied upon it.

That is exactly what makes it a cultural artifact. It is not simply an old document preserved behind glass in a museum. It is a living part of American culture. It shapes our institutions. It influences our political debates. It appears in our classrooms, our courtrooms, our news coverage, and our popular entertainment. We quote it. We argue about it. We celebrate it. Sometimes we misunderstand it. But we are constantly engaging with it.

For a podcast devoted to crime and popular culture, there is perhaps no better artifact to examine. Every episode we've produced has ultimately asked the same question: How does culture shape the way we think about crime and justice? In this episode, we simply begin one step earlier by examining the artifact that shaped the very system those stories portray.

The Quiet Work of the Constitution 

If the Constitution is America's operating manual, nowhere is that more apparent than in criminal justice.

Nearly every stage of the criminal justice process is rooted in constitutional authority. Whether you are a police officer, prosecutor, defense attorney, judge, correctional officer, or simply a citizen called to jury duty, your role exists within a constitutional framework.

It begins with the structure of government itself.

Article I gives Congress the authority to create federal criminal laws. Congress decides what conduct will be criminalized, establishes penalties, funds federal law enforcement agencies, and creates the statutes that federal courts interpret every day.

Article II places executive power in the president, whose constitutional duty is to faithfully execute those laws. That authority extends through agencies such as the FBI, the DEA, the ATF, the U.S. Marshals Service, the Secret Service, the Bureau of Prisons, and federal prosecutors within the Department of Justice. The Constitution creates an executive branch responsible for enforcing federal law.

Article III establishes the federal judiciary. Courts do more than decide guilt or innocence. They interpret statutes. They resolve constitutional disputes. They determine whether government officials have exceeded their authority. And they serve as an independent check on both Congress and the president. Without independent courts, constitutional rights would exist largely on paper.

Then comes the Bill of Rights. This is where the Constitution speaks directly to the relationship between citizens and government.

The First Amendment protects speech, religion, assembly, petition, and free press. These freedoms shape criminal justice in countless ways. Journalists investigate police misconduct. Citizens criticize government officials without fear of arrest. Protesters assemble in public spaces. Religious liberty protects the beliefs of inmates and correctional staff alike.

The Second Amendment continues to shape debates over firearms regulation. Over self-defense, public safety, and the scope of governmental authority. Few constitutional provisions generate more contemporary criminal justice litigation.

The Third Amendment receives little attention today. Yet, it reflects an enduring constitutional principle. Government power has limits, even during times of conflict. Although quartering soldiers is no longer a practical concern, the amendment reminds us that the home occupies a special place in American constitutional thought.

The Fourth Amendment may be the single most important amendment for policing. It protects individuals against unreasonable searches and seizures and generally requires warrants to be supported by probable cause. Every traffic stop, vehicle search, arrest, search warrant, cell phone search, or investigation. If modern technology is used the process must ultimately satisfy Fourth Amendment requirements.

The Fifth Amendment introduces some of the criminal justice system's most familiar protections. Grand jury indictments for serious federal crimes. Protection against double jeopardy. The privilege against self-incrimination. The guarantee that no person may be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law. These principles influence investigations, interrogations, prosecutions, and appeals every day.

The Sixth Amendment focuses on the fairness of criminal prosecutions. Defendants are guaranteed a speedy and public trial before an impartial jury. They have the right to know the charges against them. To confront adverse witnesses, compel favorable witnesses to testify, and receive the assistance of counsel. These protections define what Americans expect from a fair criminal trial.

The Seventh Amendment concerns civil jury trials rather than criminal cases. But it reinforces the Constitution's broader commitment to resolving disputes through citizen participation. Rather than through unchecked governmental authority.

The Eighth Amendment limits punishment itself. Excessive bail and excessive fines are prohibited. And cruel and unusual punishments are forbidden. Questions involving prison conditions, sentencing practices, capital punishment, and proportionality frequently turn on this amendment.

The Ninth and Tenth Amendments remind us that the Constitution creates a government of limited and delegated powers. Not every right is listed, and not every governmental power belongs to Washington DC. Much of criminal law remains the responsibility of the states because the federal government possesses only those powers granted by the Constitution.

Of course, the Constitution did not stop evolving in 1791.

After the Civil War, the Reconstruction Amendments fundamentally reshaped American criminal justice. The Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery. The Fourteenth Amendment guaranteed due process and equal protection while making most of the Bill of Rights applicable to the states. The Fifteenth Amendment sought to protect voting rights regardless of race. Together, these amendments transformed the relationship between citizens and state governments. And became the constitutional foundation for modern civil rights litigation.

What is remarkable is not simply the age of these provisions. It is their endurance.

Every day, somewhere in America, a police officer decides whether there is probable cause. A judge rules on the admissibility of evidence. A defense attorney advises a client. A prosecutor evaluates charges. A jury deliberates. A journalist publishes a story about official misconduct. A citizen exercises the right to criticize government. In each of those moments, whether anyone realizes it or not, the Constitution is quietly doing its work.

It is not just a historical document. It is the rulebook for American criminal justice.

Two Holidays, Two Stories:  A Bold Break, A Bold Experiment. 

Let's consider why Independence Day occupies such a prominent place in American life while Constitution Day remains relatively obscure. We must consider their very different histories.

Both holidays commemorate extraordinary moments in the nation's founding, but they did not develop in the same way.

The Fourth of July celebrates the adoption of the Declaration of Independence in 1776. Almost immediately after the Revolution, Americans began commemorating the occasion. Communities organized speeches, parades, bonfires, cannon salutes, concerts, and public festivals. By the early nineteenth century, Independence Day had become America's premier civic celebration. Long before Congress officially recognized it as a federal holiday in 1870, generations of Americans had already established traditions. And these traditions made the day meaningful. In 1938, it became a paid holiday for federal employees. But by then, its place in American culture was already secure.

Constitution Day followed a very different path.

The event commemorates September 17, 1787. When delegates gathered in Philadelphia and signed the Constitution. Yet for much of American history, there was no widespread national observance of that date.

Instead, the day commemorating it slowly evolved over decades. In 1940, Congress established "I Am an American Day." This was intended as a celebration focused primarily on citizenship. In 1952, the observance was renamed Citizenship Day. And it was moved to September 17 to honor the signing of the Constitution. A few years later, Congress designated Constitution Week to encourage civic education. It was not until 2004 that Congress officially designated observance as Constitution Day and Citizenship Day. This effort was led by Senator Robert Byrd. The law also required schools receiving federal funds to provide educational programming about the Constitution each year.

That history explains a great deal.

Independence Day had nearly a century to become woven into the fabric of American life before it was ever declared a federal holiday. Families created traditions. Communities developed rituals. Children grew up associating the Fourth of July with fireworks, flags, parades, patriotic music, and neighborhood celebrations. The holiday belonged to the people long before it belonged to the federal government.

Constitution Day never had that opportunity.

In its modern form, it is barely two decades old. More importantly, it has largely been presented as an educational observance rather than a civic celebration. We tell students to learn about the Constitution. We rarely invite the nation to celebrate it.

I think that distinction matters.

Perhaps Constitution Day is not overlooked because the Constitution is less important than the Declaration of Independence. Perhaps it is overlooked because we have never intentionally built traditions around it.

After all, holidays are not remembered simply because Congress puts them on a calendar. They become meaningful because people gather. They tell stories. They create rituals. They pass those traditions from one generation to the next.

Maybe that is what Constitution Day has been missing all along.

There may be another reason these two days have developed so differently.

The Declaration of Independence and the Constitution commemorate two very different achievements.

The Declaration was, for all practical purposes, a declaration of war. It announced to the most powerful empire in the world that thirteen colonies no longer recognized its authority. It was bold. It was defiant. It was dramatic. And everyone understood that those words would almost certainly lead to armed conflict. The story of Independence Day is a story of soldiers, battles, sacrifice, and victory. It is easy to celebrate because it tells a story that is immediately compelling.

The Constitution tells a different story.

Its drama was not found on battlefields. It was found in meeting halls. The delegates who gathered in Philadelphia faced a different challenge. They had already won their independence. Now they had to answer a question that has proven far more difficult throughout history.

How do free people govern themselves?

That was not a military challenge. It was an intellectual one.

The Constitutional Convention became a contest of ideas rather than armies. Delegates argued over representation, executive power, federalism, the judiciary, taxation, commerce, and individual liberty. They disagreed passionately, compromised reluctantly, and ultimately produced a framework that has endured for two and a half centuries.

In that sense, the Declaration of Independence was a bold break.

The Constitution was a bold experiment.

The Declaration rejected an existing form of government. The Constitution attempted something much more ambitious. It sought to create a durable republic based on separated powers, checks and balances, federalism, and the rule of law. History offered few examples that such a system could survive. There were no guarantees that it would succeed.

Perhaps that difference also explains why one holiday captures our imagination while the other appeals more to our intellect.

We naturally celebrate dramatic moments of triumph.

We are less inclined to celebrate difficult ideas.

But if the American experiment has taught us anything over the last 250 years, it is that preserving liberty may ultimately require more than winning a revolution.

It requires learning how to govern ourselves.

Regardless of the explanation of the divergent paths, Constitution Day deserves greater recognition.

This is not about replacing Independence Day. The Fourth of July will always deserve its place as America's birthday. Rather, it is about recognizing that birthdays celebrate beginnings, while constitutions celebrate endurance.

Perhaps Constitution Day should become the one day each year when Americans intentionally return to the document itself. Not to agree on every interpretation. That has never happened in our history. But to renew a shared commitment to understanding the constitutional framework that makes those debates possible.

Because in the end, a constitutional republic depends on more than having a Constitution. It depends on having citizens who know it.

How This Episode Came to Be  

You might be wondering why I decided to devote an entire episode to Constitution Day. 

The answer is quite personal. For many years, I looked forward to the month of June. As a criminal justice professor and someone who has long been fascinated by constitutional law, June meant one thing. The Supreme Court was about to release many of its most significant decisions of the year. Those opinions often answered difficult constitutional questions. Issues had been working their way through the lower appellate courts for years. Whether I agreed with the outcomes or not, I found the process intellectually exciting. It was an opportunity to watch constitutional interpretation unfold in real time.

Over the years, however, something changed.

My anticipation gradually gave way to fatigue. Public discussion of the Court seemed to become increasingly partisan. Too often, constitutional questions were reduced to political talking points. Conversations that once centered on constitutional text, history, and legal reasoning increasingly became contests over whether one was pleased or disappointed with a particular result.

This year brought that realization into even sharper focus.

For me, the turning point was the aftermath of the recent birthright citizenship case. Notice the word I used. I said the aftermath, not the outcome.

My concern is not whether the Court reached the correct legal conclusion. Reasonable people can disagree about constitutional interpretation. And they have done so throughout American history. What troubled me was something different. It was the public reaction that followed. Much of the discussion seemed disconnected from the Constitution itself. People rushed to celebrate or condemn the decision.

That experience forced me to reconsider something.

Perhaps our civic problem is not simply that we disagree about the Constitution. Disagreement is inevitable in a free society. Perhaps the deeper problem is that too few of us spend time studying the document before debating what it means.

And that is when this idea began to take shape.

What if Constitution Day occupied a place in our civic life comparable to Independence Day? What if, once each year, Americans collectively set aside the politics of the moment and simply returned to the document itself? What if schools, libraries, universities, civic organizations, courts, and communities spent a day reading it, discussing it, teaching it, and wrestling with it?

Not to produce unanimous agreement. The Framers themselves disagreed vigorously. The Supreme Court justices have disagreed for more than two centuries. Constitutional interpretation has always involved debate.

But debate is most productive when it begins with a common understanding of the text.

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that Constitution Day deserves to be more than a date on the calendar. It deserves to become an annual national exercise in constitutional literacy.

Because regardless of where we stand politically, we all have a stake in understanding the document that governs us.

Conclusion: Reimagining Constitution Day 

So, what would it actually mean to take Constitution Day seriously?

I am not suggesting another day off from work with little thought given to why the holiday exists. Noram I suggesting that Constitution Day become another occasion for political speeches or partisan rallies. In fact, I would argue the opposite.

Imagine if Constitution Day became America's annual civic classroom.

Schools could suspend ordinary lessons for a day devoted entirely to the Constitution. Elementarystudents might learn why we have three branches of government. Middle and high school students could hold mock constitutional conventions, appellate arguments, and jury trials. Colleges and universities could host public lectures, debates, and Constitution readings open to their surrounding communities.

Libraries could organize Constitution book clubs and host discussions on landmark Supreme Court cases. Museums could curate exhibits exploring the evolution of constitutional rights. Courthouses could open their doors to the public, allowing citizens to observe the institutions that give life to constitutional principles every day. Judges, prosecutors, defense attorneys, police officers, and legal scholars could participate in community forums. Not to advocate political positions, but to explain how the Constitution shapes the work they do.

Communities could organize naturalization ceremonies. To celebrate those who have chosen to become American citizens. Historic sites could host public readings of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. Local theaters could perform debates from the Constitutional Convention or reenact famous Supreme Court arguments. Television networks and streaming services could feature documentaries examining the Constitution's history, its amendments, and the people who have shaped its interpretation.

Even families could create their own traditions. Around dinner tables, parents might ask their children what constitutional right surprised them most that day. Neighbors could gather not just for a meal. But for conversations about citizenship, liberty, responsibility, and the rule of law.

None of this requires ideological agreement.

A person who believes the Constitution should be interpreted according to its original public meaning could participate. So could someone who believes constitutional meaning evolves over time. A conservative, a liberal, a libertarian, an independent, or someone who has never thought much about constitutional law would all have a place at the table.

The holiday would not ask Americans to agree. It would ask Americans to learn.

We often treat civic disagreement as a problem to be solved. In a constitutional republic, disagreement is a feature, not a flaw. The Framers disagreed. The delegates argued for months before producing the Constitution. The Bill of Rights emerged only after intense public debate. Constitutional amendments have often reflected profound disagreements about the nation's future. The Supreme Court itself has rarely spoken with one voice on the most important constitutional questions.

The Constitution has never demanded consensus. It has demanded participation.

Perhaps that should be the defining purpose of Constitution Day. Not to celebrate that we all think alike. But to celebrate that we share a common constitutional framework through which we resolve our differences peacefully.

Every nation has birthdays. They celebrate the beginning of a story.

Constitution Day could celebrate something even more remarkable. The ongoing decision of a free people to remain governed not by the passions of the moment. But by the rule of law.

And yes, I even think there should be fireworks.

Some might object that fireworks belong to Independence Day because they commemorate the battles that secured our freedom. Certainly, that history matters. But fireworks have never been reserved only for military victories. They are also symbols of celebration, remembrance, and shared civic joy.

Don't believe me?

Consider what happens every year at midnight on January 1. Around the world, people gather to light the sky with fireworks. Not because a war was won. Not because a nation declared its independence. But because a new year has begun and the moment is worth celebrating together.

Perhaps Constitution Day deserves the same kind of celebration.

Not because it marks the birth of America. Independence Day will always tell that story. Constitution Day tells the next chapter. It celebrates the document that transformed thirteen former colonies into a functioning constitutional republic. And has guided that experiment in self-government for nearly two and a half centuries.

That seems like something worth lighting up the sky for.

I'm Kevin Buckler. Thank you for joining me for Crime & Pop Culture Office Hours. Take care.