Christopher Harris: Much a-duel about nothing: It's time to re-write our oaths of office

Jan. 11—On the heels of Election Season comes another notable time of year as a result: Swearing-In Season.

There have been a number of local opportunities for officials to take the oath of office in the first few days of January and the latter days of December, and I've played host to two of them: first, at the City of Burnside's employee appreciation dinner, to which I paid witness, and then this past Saturday at the well-attended Somerset-Pulaski County Chamber of Commerce's ceremony featuring most all of the most notable officials from around the county.

And I come away from it all saying: I think we as a state need to update our vows.

The problem is that this is something that should be very meaningful to the public. These are the people in whose hands are our liberties as citizens, our earnings as taxpayers, and our expectations as voters. We want to know that we can trust them. We want to know that they are willing to say, publicly and proudly, that they will honor the responsibilities of being a public servant, someone whose boss is supposed to be the people rather than thinking of themselves as the people's boss.

Instead, what we get is a bunch of outdated drivel. Specifically, drivel about carrying out duels. Swear that you haven't fought in a duel. Swear that you haven't sent or accepted a challenge to fight in a duel. Swear that you haven't acted as a second in carrying out a challenge. Swear that you haven't removed your glove and slapped a man in the face with it — okay, maybe not that one, but you get the idea.

Perhaps in the days of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, this might have been a legitimate concern. It is not now. These people have not fought formal duels. Nobody today fights formal duels. I can virtually guarantee you that Somerset Mayor Alan Keck, Pulaski Judge-Executive Marshall Todd, and PVA T.W. Todd have never defended their honor by walking 20 paces, turning, and firing upon some ignominious rapscallion. And to be frank, we are wasting their time and the public's by spending most of the oath boilerplate making them promise that they haven't.

And honestly, I wouldn't even care that much if they had. There was at least something noble in the art of the duel. If you want to solve your problems with a fair fight that way, that's of much less consequence to me than issues that actually affect my life. I wouldn't be bothered if there was a duel every day at high noon in the middle of Constitution Avenue in Washington D.C. as long as everyone not involved worked on tempering inflation in the meantime.

However, it might be a good idea, one far more relevant, to make them swear that they've never turned a violent hand against a spouse — or really, anyone who is vulnerable and not equally armed, as in a duel. Here in Kentucky, we've seen how that can be a problem. Cases involving names like former state representatives Steve Nunn and Robert Goforth come to mind as politicians whose legacies were destroyed by their own destructive actions. You can debate about the honor involved in a duel, but there is no honor in being a domestic abuser.

Personally, I'd also like them to vow to keep their hands out of my wallet. Death and taxes might be certain, but if you really want to take an oath that means something to me, promise me you'll ask nicely for my money, pass a collection plate, or hold a bake sale or something. Demanding it is just so rude. Let's make them vow to prioritize my individual freedoms as well. Make them say out loud that they don't know how to run my life better than I do.

And while the oaths the officials take include general bits about doing good in their respective roles — it's glossed over quickly with a line about promising to "faithfully execute" their duties, to the best of their abilities, and frankly it feels like there's a lot of grey area built in there — you could vow to just try not to straight-up lie, or be manipulative, or intentionally obfuscate the truth.

These are all things politicians are notorious for doing, and for some reason, we'd rather make them promise that they've never acted as a second in someone else's duel than make them promise not to be slimy and deceitful. Why is that again?

Moreover, law enforcement officers take oaths promising to "detect and prosecute all gamblers." Oh really? You gonna come bust me for buying a lottery ticket? What about when I go to Keeneland?

There is no room written into the oath to separate legal gambling — something Kentucky lawmakers desperately need to expand, by the way — from illegal activities. It just lumps all gamblers in the same bucket, and for some reason assumes that it's this terrible all-encompassing scourge that they should be uniquely focused on, instead of, you know, murder, sexual abuse, theft — actual bad things. Gambling? Snore. Wake me up when there's a real reason for me to care that some convenient store has a Cherry Master in their back room.

Having officials take an oath of office is an admirable tradition, and those who do so in front of the public should be commended for their willingness to let their promises be widely heard and documented. Kudos to the Somerset-Pulaski County Chamber of Commerce for hosting an event that allows this to happen.

But somewhere, at whatever level of government where these vows are written, something needs to change, because taking the oath of office in Kentucky isn't nearly as meaningful an experience as it should be. Let's dust off the old vows and give them a much-needed re-write.

We're probably never going to have to worry about finding out some elected official once took part in a duel. But the next time one of them lies through their teeth, we can point that out and say, "Ah, ah, ah! You took an oath specifically not to do that." Doesn't that make so much more sense?

And if you disagree, no, I'm not going to duel you over it. I might want to run for office one day, after all.