The imaginary town of Benêtville lies just north of Interstate 10, northwest of New Orleans and southeast of Baton Rouge. Jim Fermier is a farmer who owns 120 acres just outside of Benêtville. This farm has been in his family since the 1830s. The Fermier family has a history of tradition, mixed with superstition. Jim has no motorized tractors or other motorized agricultural equipment on his farm. He and his boys – all six of them – do all of the farming using only their horses to assist with the tilling, planting and harvesting of crops. His family has a reputation for the freshest produce, grown organically for generations before organic farming was even a thing. During the several annual harvests of his famous tomatoes, watermelons, cantaloupes and corn, he travels with his produce to the Benêtville market in his horse drawn carts.
Unfortunately, there is only one main road in Benêtville, a ten mile stretch that feeds into Interstate 10. When Jim or one of his sons travels to market, which is situated just off of the interstate, they travel that road, causing delays and back-ups for miles. As the town has grown, what was once an endearing cultural oddity has become a source of complaint among local businesses and commuters who work in Baton Rouge and New Orleans. But Jim was adamant. He was not going to change his ways, even after the local parish council appropriated funds that would provide motorized transport of Jim’s produce to market.
“Not for me. I have been doing my work according to family tradition for more generations than I can count. No sir. Changing my ways would be a bad omen, a curse that could disrupt what my family has built up for the better part of a century. Besides, it is my right to use whatever public road I choose.”
This may sound strange to those unfamiliar with Benêtville, but Jim is correct. The right he is referring to is part of the Benêtville Town Charter. The town has changed its constitution many times since its founding as a parish in the early 1800s. But each time, a particular clause was preserved, grandfathered into successive amendments. That clause reads, as follows:
“Public roads being the lifeblood of local economies, the right of horse drawn carts carrying goods in commerce on public roads shall not be infringed.”
Local frustration got to the point where the business council petitioned the parish council for a hearing. The members of the parish council were part of the old guard of the town, mostly residents who owned large parcels of land, lived off of inheritances and rental income from trailers located on their properties, and by selling timber.
The hearing was held in the large multi-purpose community room attached to the volunteer fire house. The place was packed. Jim and his family were also in attendance, obvious without even entering the meeting hall. Several of his horses were hitched to a telephone pole outside the building.
There were many speakers. Most of the older residents sided with Jim. Many others, mostly local business owners and young adults with families, spoke in support of changing the town’s charter. Those in favor of continuing to allow Jim to maintain his tradition spoke to how we are losing sight of our historic traditions and how technology is ruining our lives.
“We all need to look to Jim and his family, work hard but slow down, and give ourselves some time to appreciate what we do, how we do it, and who we do it with.”
Those opposed to continuing the practice pointed to lost profits and delays in getting to work and appointments.
“We are in the 21st Century. It is ridiculous for us to be forced to travel at a speed that is achieved without even stepping on the gas pedal. Time is money and the money we make is how taxes are raised to support this town, our schools, and your salaries.”
The Chairman of the Business Council rose to speak. After speaking on behalf of his members for a minute, he asked to yield the remainder of his time, as well as another two minutes, to an esteemed member of the faculty of the University of New Orleans. The council members agreed, and the professor stepped to the podium. He took a moment to survey the room and used his shifting line of vision to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat, holding his head in a manner that suggested authority and superior knowledge.
“I want to thank you for this opportunity to speak on this interesting and important topic. My name is Professor Januson. I have been teaching history for the past twenty years. And though overused, I am here to support the proposition that the only constant in life is change, and if we do not adapt to the changes occurring around us, we are doomed to be buried by them. They will happen with or without us…”
The professor went on for a while, raising then lowering his voice for effect and to maintain attention. When it was time to wrap up, he implored the attendees to heed the lessons of history.
“You know, the Roman Empire spanned more than a dozen centuries. That kind of longevity is only possible with vision, competence, flexibility, wisdom and workable systems of law and government. There is a legal principle underpinning Roman law that we would be wise to follow. It goes, cessante ratione legis cessat ipsa lex. How many in the room speak Latin?”
No one raised a hand.
“Of course, no one does. Latin is now a dead language. But there is still much we can learn from the Romans. The principle I cited in Latin translates as, “when the reason for the law changes, the law ceases to exist.” So let me conclude with this – horse drawn carriages are no longer necessary, let along important, for the operation of commerce. In fact, horse drawn carts used for commerce actually impede commercial activity. I would ask that you consider that it is time for a charter revision, striking the provisions, including the one at issue here, that are anachronistic and counter-productive to modern living. Thank you. I am happy to answer any questions.”
The chairman looked to his colleagues. No one had anything to say in response.
“Thank you for your testimony, professor. Now, if there are no other speakers…”
Jim stood up and asked to say a few words. The chairman nodded and, gesturing to the podium, Jim proceeded to the front of the room, turned to face the audience and asked:
“Does anyone here own a gun?”
Nearly every adult in the room raised his and her hand.
“Are there any members of the NRA present here tonight?”
Less, but still a large majority of those in attendance raised their hands.
“How many among you would be willing to give up you guns, or vote for a candidate running on a platform of gun control?”
The room fell silent. Not one hand was raised.
“Okay then, let’s look at the Second Amendment, which all of you (and I) rely upon to protect our right to own all kinds of guns, assault rifles, long guns and more. It states:”
“A well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”
“My time for speaking is running out so let me wrap up. If you follow the professor’s reasoning, you are only justified in keeping guns if we believe that the United States, a country with the strongest military on the planet, a country with a defense budget that is larger than the defense budgets of the next nine countries combined, needs state militias for our collective security?”
“If you agree, then you are a fool. So look, if you believe that the Second Amendment is sacrosanct, then you also have to believe that the charter that allows me to continue to do what I and my predecessors have done for over a century is also inviolable. Thank you.”
The chairman banged the gavel, calling for the meeting’s adjournment. The meeting ended and the parish council published its opinion a week after the hearing. The town charter would not be amended, and Jim could continue to disrupt and clog traffic whenever he went to town on business – all because we insist on reading something into what is not there.