On December 7, 1787, Delaware became the first state to ratify the United States Constitution. Yep, Delaware—the kid in the classroom who raises their hand first to answer the question no one else was ready for. But don’t let their eagerness fool you. This moment wasn’t just about Delaware’s moment in the spotlight. It was the first critical step in adopting a document that would change the course of history.
Now, before we start handing out high-fives to the framers of the Constitution, let’s be honest about what they were working with. This wasn’t some grand, flawless act of divine intervention. No one came down from a cloud with a scroll and said, “Here, George, this should fix it.” These were a bunch of ordinary guys in powdered wigs, bickering in a sweltering room in Philadelphia over how to keep this newly independent country from collapsing like a Jenga tower missing half its pieces.
The Articles of Confederation: A Dumpster Fire of Governance
Let’s rewind a bit. In 1787, the United States was running on the Articles of Confederation, which were less of a governing document and more of a loose suggestion. Imagine trying to run a company where every department does its own thing—IT won’t answer HR’s emails, Sales is hoarding the budget, and Finance insists on paying everyone in Monopoly money. That’s basically what we were dealing with.
States had their own currencies, their own trade policies, and their own militias. Congress had no power to tax, which meant it couldn’t pay off debts from the Revolutionary War or even fund basic government functions. It was chaos. Shays’ Rebellion in 1786 was the final straw—a bunch of Massachusetts farmers, crushed under debt, picked up muskets and said, “You know what? If no one’s running this place, we’ll run it ourselves.” Congress, predictably, had no army to stop them. It had to beg the states for help, which is about as effective as asking your cat to fetch the remote.
Enter the Constitutional Convention: A Hot Mess with a Purpose
So, in May 1787, 55 delegates met in Philadelphia to fix this disaster. These weren’t mythical figures carved in marble. These were flawed, fallible men, most of whom probably couldn’t program a DVR, let alone design a functioning government. But there they were, tasked with creating something that could actually hold this fledgling country together.
And it wasn’t pretty. There were arguments. Fights. People storming out. If it were today, someone would’ve tweeted, “The Constitutional Convention is a dumpster fire. #ArticlesForever.” They argued over representation. Should big states get more votes because of their larger populations? Should small states get equal votes because of their inferiority complex? The result was the Great Compromise: the House of Representatives for the big states, the Senate for the small ones. Everyone was equally unhappy, which is how you know it was a good compromise.
And then there was slavery. The issue that makes every American history teacher cringe. Southern states wanted enslaved people to count toward their population totals for representation in Congress but not for taxation. Northern states were like, “Uh, no, that’s insane.” The compromise? Enslaved people would count as three-fifths of a person. Yep, three-fifths. It’s as horrifying as it sounds, and it’s a stark reminder that the Constitution’s framers weren’t perfect. They didn’t solve the problem—they kicked it down the road, where it exploded into the Civil War.
But despite their flaws, these men did something extraordinary. They agreed to a government that was subject to the people, not the other way around. That was revolutionary in 1787. Governments back then were all about kings and emperors and the occasional dictator with a fancy hat. But this Constitution? It started with three radical words: We the People. Not We the King. Not We the Congress. Not We a Handful of Rich Guys in Philadelphia. It was a government designed to serve us, not rule us.
“A Republic, If You Can Keep It”
When the convention wrapped up and Benjamin Franklin was asked what kind of government they had created, he famously replied, “A republic, if you can keep it.” That’s right. Even Franklin—the guy who invented the lightning rod and bifocals and somehow lived to 84 on a steady diet of booze and syphilis—knew this whole thing was precarious. He wasn’t patting them on the back for a job well done. He was passing the baton to us, the people, and saying, “Good luck, suckers.”
Franklin understood that the Constitution wasn’t a guarantee. It was a framework. A starting point. Its survival depended entirely on whether the people—the We in We the People—were willing to do the work to uphold it. And that’s where things get tricky.
Why It Matters in 2024
Fast forward to today—December 7, 2024. We’re staring down the barrel of a new administration, one backed by a coalition of Christian nationalists who seem more interested in making people adhere to a book they haven’t read than the Constitution they claim to defend. These are people who scream about “freedom” while banning books, who rail against “government overreach” while trying to legislate personal morality. It’s like watching someone yell at a traffic cop while driving the wrong way down a one-way street.
This is why Franklin’s warning matters. Because a government that forgets it’s subject to the people isn’t a government—it’s a threat. And the scary thing is, this isn’t new. History is full of governments that claimed to act in the name of the people while systematically silencing dissent, suppressing rights, and consolidating power. The difference between us and them? We the People. That’s the safeguard. But it only works if we stay vigilant.
The Responsibility of “We the People”
Here’s the thing: the Constitution isn’t perfect. It wasn’t handed down from on high. It’s a messy, flawed, human document. But it’s also a living document, designed to adapt and evolve. Its power doesn’t come from the paper it’s printed on. It comes from us. From our willingness to hold leaders accountable, to challenge bad laws, to demand better.
So, as we remember Delaware’s ratification of the Constitution on December 7, 1787, let’s honor it by doing the work. Let’s call out hypocrisy. Let’s stand up for democracy. Let’s make sure “We the People” means all of us, not just the loudest or the wealthiest or the most sanctimonious. Because Franklin was right. We have a republic—if we can keep it. And keeping it is up to us.
Also, maybe let’s not let anyone with a powdered wig and a Bible rewrite the rules while we’re not paying attention. Just saying.
