In today’s U.S. Senate, the filibuster has become both a symbol of obstruction and a tool of partisan power. To filibuster is to talk—or threaten to talk—long enough to stall or block legislation. The Constitution itself says nothing about this practice. It merely grants each chamber the power to determine its own rules. Over time, the Senate chose to allow unlimited debate, which can only be ended by invoking cloture—a supermajority vote of 60 senators.
The practical effect is that a minority of just 41 senators can stop the majority from acting. This turns the Founders’ concept of majority rule upside down.
Thomas Jefferson made the principle clear:
“The first principle of republicanism is that the lex majoris partis—the law of the greater part—is the fundamental law of every society of individuals of equal right; to consider the will of the society announced by the majority of a single vote as sacred as if unanimous is the first of all lessons of importance, yet the last which is thoroughly learned.”
Alexander Hamilton, in The Federalist Papers, warned of the same danger:
“To give a minority a negative upon the majority…is, in its tendency, to subject the sense of the greater number to that of the lesser number.… The necessity of unanimity in public bodies, or something approaching towards it…has been founded upon a supposition that it would contribute to security. But its real operation is to embarrass the administration, to destroy the energy of the government, and to substitute the pleasure, caprice, or artifices of an insignificant, turbulent, or corrupt junto to the regular deliberations and decisions of a respectable majority.”
Those who defend the filibuster argue that removing it would allow whichever party holds power to impose its will unchecked. That concern is not unfounded—but it points to a deeper problem, one the Founders themselves addressed. If Americans no longer elect leaders bound by conscience and virtue, no rule or procedure can save the republic.
Benjamin Franklin warned that:
“Only a virtuous people are capable of freedom. As nations become corrupt and vicious, they have more need of masters.”
And John Adams echoed:
“Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”
The lesson is timeless: the strength of our institutions depends not on clever procedural devices but on the character of those who serve within them. The filibuster may have evolved into a Senate tradition, but it stands at odds with the Founders’ first principle of republican government—majority rule among a moral and self-governing people.
If we wish to preserve that republic, we should restore the rule of the majority—and the virtue on which it was meant to rest.
Before the Declaration of Independence, there was the Olive Branch Petition.
Written 250 years ago on July 5th, the Olive Branch Petition was Thomas Jefferson’s first attempt to explain to King George III why the American Colonies were rebelling and ask for reconciliation.
The “Shot heard ‘round the world” had been fired almost three months earlier, and the Battle of Bunker Hill had just ended. It was readily apparent to the Second Continental Congress that the situation was spinning out of control. In a last-ditch effort to stave off a rebellion and attempt a peaceful settlement, John Hancock authorized the drafting of a document to explain the colonies’ position, acknowledge their loyalty to the King and propose a solution to the conflict.
Everything the colonists knew about their government was that the King’s representative controlled most of the governing of their political subdivision, and the actions of the Royal Governor were generally respected as if the King himself was in residence. What the colonists could not appreciate was the emerging British constitutional government caused Parliament to become more powerful while the King’s authority gradually eroded. Most critical in this tug of war for authority was the power of the purse. The King and Parliament routinely argued over taxing and spending with Parliament eventually gaining the upper hand.
But during this time, while the role and responsibility of the King and Parliament were being established, the colonies were in the midst of creating their own unique political system. Initially, the colonies grew and developed with little, if any, input from the King. The customs as British subjects were transferred in a seamless manner, almost by osmosis, that accepted a local structure of self-government that was limited and almost invisible. The law and accompanying political organization were accepted by the colonies because they were familiar; but most importantly, they worked.
Always looking for new revenue to fund both the Crown and Parliament, the colonies became an untapped revenue stream. Under the excuse that the cost of protecting the colonies from foreign invasion should be paid for by the direct beneficiaries (the colonies), Parliament acted. Beginning in 1764, Parliament sought to impose various taxes on the colonies. The King benefited from these taxes as a portion of the generated revenue directly funded his royal court, but the numerous acts imposing taxes were not issued in the name of the sovereign, but in the name of Parliament.
So, with each successive tax, the colonists became more vexed and sought to avoid new levies in many ways; some benign, like smuggling or boycotting to avoid payment, or direct action, like the destruction of property to illustrate displeasure. But in all these aggressions against parliamentary acts, the colonists reasoned that if King George could understand the situation and reign in Parliament, then the colonial relationship could be restored. The colonists failed to appreciate the King’s complicity in the imposition of the various taxes.
When the relationship between the colonies further deteriorated and red coats were ordered to disarm colonial militias, the war of words turned into a hot war with the loss of life and destruction of property. Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill were more than simple police actions — they were serious military conflicts with significant casualties. With the conflict escalating, the Continental Congress tried one last step and appealed to the King with the Olive Branch Petition, which almost begged for a restoration of their former relationship. Thomas Jefferson’s initial draft of the Olive Branch Petition was too strident and bellicose, so with input from other founding fathers, John Dickinson would tone it down, and his revision was sent to the King after being approved by Congress.
King George never read the conciliatory document and instead responded by issuing his own Proclamation of Rebellion authorizing force to restrain the rebellion and hang the leaders. The Olive Branch Petition was an attempt to avoid bloodshed and restore an amicable relationship between the crown and colonies, but in rejecting the petition, the King, to his eventual detriment, turned loyalists into rebels.
One year later, Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence would set an inevitable course; Washington’s victory at Yorktown would conclude the matter.
Will Sellers is a contributor to The Daily Caller News Foundation, graduate of Hillsdale College, and was appointed by Gov. Kay Ivey as an Associate Justice on the Supreme Court of Alabama. He is best reached at jws@willsellers.com
