There's very little proof that Obama or anyone in his

“There's very little proof that Obama or anyone in his administration — particularly Hillary Clinton — truly understands or believes the tenets in the U.S. Constitution or the Declaration of Independence. If they did, they would know that they are running a federal government in direct contradiction to both of those sacred documents.” Thus declared Chuck Norris, not as the warrior of cinema, but as a warrior of conscience — a citizen calling his nation to remembrance. His words strike not with anger alone, but with the sorrow of one who believes that the founding ideals of his country have been forgotten. Beneath his accusation lies a deeper lament: that freedom, once cherished as a sacred trust, has been overshadowed by the ambitions of those who rule. In this quote, Norris seeks to awaken a sleeping people — to remind them that liberty, once lost, is seldom regained without struggle.

The origin of this statement lies in the turbulent years of early twenty-first-century America, during the presidency of Barack Obama, when fierce political debate consumed the nation. Norris, a patriot shaped by both faith and frontier spirit, looked upon the swelling power of the federal government and saw in it a betrayal of the principles enshrined in the U.S. Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. To him, these documents were not relics of parchment, but living covenants — sacred compacts between a free people and their Creator. His words, though directed at particular leaders, speak to a timeless tension: the eternal struggle between liberty and authority, between the rights of the individual and the reach of the state.

When Norris speaks of the Constitution and the Declaration as “sacred documents,” he draws upon the reverence the Founders themselves held for these texts. For the Declaration of Independence was not merely a severance from kings; it was a proclamation of natural law — that all men are created equal and endowed with rights beyond the grasp of government. The Constitution, in turn, was the framework designed to guard those rights from the very power of rulers and officials. To Norris, the modern state, bloated with regulation and entitlement, had drifted far from this original design. The government that was meant to serve had become the master; the servant of the people had claimed sovereignty over them. In his eyes, this was not governance — it was apostasy against the founding creed.

Throughout history, many have sounded similar warnings. The ancient Romans, too, once prided themselves on liberty under law, yet in time they traded their republic for the rule of emperors. Cicero, the orator and philosopher, mourned that Rome had lost her soul long before she lost her freedom — that her people had grown accustomed to comfort, and so welcomed tyranny in the guise of security. So it is with all nations that forget their founding purpose. Norris’s cry echoes Cicero’s lament: that when citizens cease to understand the laws that protect them, those laws become empty shells, easily reshaped by those in power. The Constitution, he implies, can be preserved only by a people who know it, cherish it, and live by it.

In calling out the leaders of his time, Norris was not simply assigning blame — he was naming a danger. His warning is not about party or politics, but about the erosion of principle. He feared a government that no longer measured its actions by the yardstick of limited power, individual rights, and moral restraint. The Founders, wary of human nature, built a system that divided power precisely because they understood how easily it corrupts. To govern “in contradiction” to that system, Norris argues, is to reopen the door to the very despotism America was born to escape. His words, then, are not those of rebellion but of remembrance — a plea to return to the foundation before the structure collapses under its own ambition.

And yet, his message reaches beyond the realm of politics into the heart of the citizen. For governments do not decay in isolation; they reflect the moral state of their people. A nation’s leaders can only exceed their rightful bounds when its citizens cease to hold them accountable. Thus, Norris’s warning is also a call to personal vigilance — to study the Constitution not as history, but as duty; to raise children who know the price of freedom; to resist apathy, for apathy is the silent ally of tyranny. The defense of liberty begins not in legislatures, but in living rooms, in schools, and in the hearts of those who refuse to surrender their birthright.

Therefore, O listener, take this teaching to heart. Freedom is not self-sustaining; it is a garden that must be tended with knowledge and courage. The Constitution and Declaration were written not as commands from rulers, but as shields for the governed — shields that weaken when forgotten. If you would honor them, do not merely recite their words; live by their spirit. Question authority, but also discipline yourself; demand justice, but temper it with wisdom. Let no government grow beyond the consent of the governed, and let no citizen grow too weary to defend what is his.

For as Norris reminds us, the sacred documents of liberty are more than parchment — they are promises. And every generation must decide whether to keep them or betray them. Should the people sleep, the government will dream of power; but if the people awaken, even the mightiest empire must bow to the rule of law. So stand, O inheritors of freedom, and remember the charge of your ancestors: that government is your servant, not your god — and that the preservation of liberty, once entrusted to the few, now rests in the hands of us all.