A Relationship Constitution: What the Founding Fathers Can Teach Us About Love
- Eddie Eccker, MS, LMFT
- Sep 8
- 5 min read
The other day I stumbled on a line from James Madison that I could not shake. He wrote:
“If men were angels, no government would be necessary.”
Madison was not writing about marriage. He was defending the U.S. Constitution, making the case for checks and balances in government. Yet the moment I read that line, my mind drifted to relationships.
Because here is the truth: we are not angels at home either. We love deeply, but we also forget anniversaries, lose our tempers, pull away when we should lean in, and cling to selfishness when we should give. If men and women were angels, marriage would be effortless. But we are not, and it is not.
That is when the thought struck me. If Madison and his fellow Founders needed a constitution strong enough to hold thirteen fragile colonies together, then perhaps we need something just as intentional to hold two fragile humans together. A relationship constitution.
And if we are being honest, that might be the harder task.
Principles for the Flawed
The Founders knew that human beings are a mixture of beauty and brokenness. We have passion, but also pride. We have vision, but also vanity. They understood you cannot build a nation on the assumption that people will always do the right thing. You have to account for weakness.
Marriage is no different. We cannot build lasting love on the assumption that feelings will carry us through. Feelings rise and fall. They are a gift, but they are not a foundation. What we need are principles: commitments and guardrails that hold when moods shift and selfishness shows.
That realization sent me back into history with new eyes. What if we borrowed a little wisdom from the Founders for our marriages? Not because they were perfect. They were anything but. Yet they understood something crucial: lasting unions are built not on sentiment, but on structure.
The Founders’ Lessons for Love
George Washington, steady and deliberate, once wrote that “human happiness and moral duty are inseparably connected.” Our culture tends to treat responsibility as the enemy of joy, as if freedom from obligation is where we will finally be happy. Washington knew better. Happiness does not come from avoiding duty; it is born from it.
The same holds true in marriage. Joy does not come from escape, it comes from showing up. Doing the dishes, driving the kids, sitting down for the conversation you would rather skip. Happiness comes from rituals that anchor you together: a weekly dinner, a shared morning walk, a nightly check-in before bed. Duty may not sound romantic, but it is the ground where joy takes root.
John Adams, famously irritable but deeply devoted to his wife Abigail, wrote that “friendship is one of the distinguishing glories of man.” In marriage, friendship is not optional. Passion may light the fire, but friendship keeps it burning.
This is not just sentimental talk. Modern research confirms it. Psychologists call it “active constructive responding.” When your partner shares good news, do not give a distracted “that’s nice” while staring at your phone. Meet their joy with your own. Be their loudest cheerleader. Over time, that practice creates a friendship that outlasts the fireworks.
Thomas Jefferson added that friendship is precious “not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life.” That one hits hard, because many couples know how to rally during a crisis, yet they coast during calm seasons. They get comfortable, then bored.
Jefferson reminds us that love needs more than endurance in the storms. It needs play in the sunshine. It needs small adventures: a new restaurant, a new trail, a new skill learned side by side. Novelty does not require extravagance. It simply requires intention.
Then comes Benjamin Franklin, always ready with wit. He said: “Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.” Translation: choose carefully before you commit, and once you do, practice grace.
Because if you keep your eyes wide open to every fault, you will drown in irritation. Not every frustration deserves prosecution in the courtroom of “I am right and you are wrong.” What saves marriages are repair attempts: a gentle touch, a bit of humor, a reset phrase like “let me try again.” The couples who thrive are not the ones who never fight. They are the ones who repair early and often.
And then there is Hamilton. Dramatic as ever, he warned that “a nation which can prefer disgrace to danger is prepared for a master and deserves one.” In marriage, resentment becomes that master. When we avoid the difficult conversations, resentment quietly takes control.
Courage in marriage does not look like pistols at dawn. It looks like sitting down once a week to have a twenty-minute check-in. It looks like starting with gentleness: “I feel this way about this thing, and here is what I need.” Courage in love is the willingness to face conflict before it festers.
Finally, Madison circles back: “Ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” He meant political power, but it applies beautifully to relationships. Both partners carry dreams, drives, and ambitions. Left unspoken, they clash. Spoken aloud, they can align.
Healthy couples ask, “What is your personal goal right now? What is our shared goal?” Then they take it further: “How can my ambition support yours?” When ambition is named, it does not compete. It collaborates.
Checks and Balances for Modern Love
The Founders gave us philosophy, but modern research gives us tools. These tools may look simple, yet they create the framework that sustains love:
A nightly one-minute gratitude exchange.
Making invisible work visible: mapping household and emotional labor, then redistributing it fairly.
Protecting sleep, and refusing to fight after 10 p.m.
Creating two tech-free zones each day, so you see each other’s faces more than your screens.
Monthly “money dates” to review finances.
Holding hands before a difficult conversation, calming your nervous systems together.
And above all, seeking help before contempt sets in. Call for help when you first smell smoke, not when the house is already in flames.
Principles Over Perfection
Here is the truth. The Founders were not angels. Franklin was unfaithful. Jefferson contradicted himself daily. Adams was often cranky. Madison was frail and full of doubt. Their genius was not perfection. Their genius was in drafting principles strong enough to guide imperfect people.
And that is exactly what marriage is. Not two flawless angels, but two flawed humans sitting down to write their own constitution.
One that says:
We will respect even when we disagree.
We will balance independence and intimacy.
We will repair before resentment takes root.
We will face hard conversations with courage.
Nations rise on principles, not personalities. The same is true for marriages.
Want to take this further? This reflection comes from an episode of The Voyage Cast, where I explore how to draft your own relationship constitution. If you are ready to move from theory to practice, give it a listen.