A Record of the Document

The document defined federal citizenship in §5.1 and, in §11.2, required voter eligibility to be verified against "citizenship and residency records maintained separately from the NVS" — but nowhere said what those residency records actually establish. No provision said whether a person could be a voting citizen of two States at once, of none, or exactly one. The gap surfaced from an entirely practical direction: every §15.2 and §15.4 petition mechanism this project has built depends on counting "eligible voters within" some defined geographic area, and the document had never settled the underlying question of which State or Territory a given citizen actually belongs to for that purpose.

§5.1.a settles it with a floor rather than a mere rule. A citizen of the Republic is, at all times, a voting citizen of exactly one State or Territory — never two, and, just as deliberately, never none. That second half matters as much as the first: an early formulation defined only that recognition in a new State terminates recognition in an old one, which is sufficient to prevent double-counting but does nothing to guarantee a floor exists in the first place, and depending on how a State defined its own residency waiting period, could in principle strand a citizen between two States during an ordinary move. The final text closes this directly — "no statute may leave a citizen of the Republic without a State or Territory of voting citizenship" — extending to the State level the same promise §5.1 already makes at the federal level, that the Republic may not manufacture statelessness as a punitive tool or otherwise.

States and Territories retain real authority under the provision: each defines its own residence or domicile requirements by statute, consistent with this Constitution and federal law, which preserves the same principle of local judgment on operational detail that has run through this whole review — a dense state's residency test need not look like a sparsely populated one's. What is not left to the States is the floor itself, or the resolution of a genuine conflict between two States' own tests. That resolution runs through federal statute rather than through the States' own laws bilaterally, which is deliberate: only a federal mechanism can guarantee the "exactly one" principle actually binds both sides of a dispute, rather than allowing each State's law to resolve in its own favor.

The provision deliberately says nothing about how a conflict is detected or by whom, leaving that to statute exactly as §15.10 left administration to statute. In discussion, one plausible mechanism surfaced without being written into the text: the NVS's own cryptographic voter identifiers, which under §11.2 already exist precisely so a vote can be verified without revealing who cast it, could in principle flag that a single identifier participated in two elections without ever attaching a name to that identifier. Whether a resolving statute can rely on such a mechanism without exceeding §11.2's purpose limitation on shared NVS information is a real question — and, deliberately, one this provision leaves entirely to the statute that resolves it, and to whatever court is eventually asked whether that statute got the balance right.

The document had no concept of a State maintaining armed force. Not a prohibition, not a permission, not a command relationship — the words "militia," "State forces," and every equivalent appeared nowhere in 170 provisions. The gap surfaced from outside the federal document entirely: a State constitution in drafting established a State militia, and nothing in the federal text said whether it could, who commanded it, or what happened when the Republic wanted it. §2.1 gives the Legat Consul "military command and force employment," which read broadly might reach State forces and read narrowly plainly does not. Article XIV governs when military force may be used, but is written throughout about the Republic's own military acting abroad. Neither answers the question, and the answer mattered more than it might appear: without one, the Republic could contain armed formations sitting outside any constitutional command structure, which is precisely what §14.1's prohibitions and Article XIV's entire architecture assume cannot exist.

§14.5 permits States to maintain organized forces for disaster response, civil emergency, and preservation of public order within the State — purposes stated affirmatively rather than as a list of things a militia may not be, which does more limiting work than a prohibition would. Federal call-up is available only under legislative authorization satisfying §14.1, and only for defense against invasion or armed attack or to suppress insurrection against the constitutional order. Those grounds are constitutional, not statutory: a future legislature may define the terms of call-up but cannot add new reasons for one. State forces called into federal service may not be employed outside the Republic's territory under any circumstance, which answers directly the expectation of someone who enlisted to serve their State and did not anticipate an overseas deployment. A separate and deliberately weaker route lets the Civic Consul request a State's assistance within that State with the consent of its own designated authority — coordination rather than command, withdrawable at any time. The asymmetry is intentional: invasion and insurrection cannot wait on a governor's agreement, while flood response can.

§2.18 addresses a related silence. "Insurrection" appeared in the document only once, in §7.4's eligibility disclosures, never as something anyone responds to. The provision deliberately does not define insurrection, which takes too many forms to specify usefully, and confers no authority whatever — it states what happens when one occurs. Both Consuls act within their existing domains, neither may direct the other's, and the Council of Ministers convenes and remains in session throughout. The reporting obligation is the operative part: the Civic Consul reports to the Assembly as the Legat Consul already reports to the Senate under §14.2, and no report may be omitted on grounds that the response is ongoing. That last clause closes the standard method by which reporting duties are hollowed out without being violated — the assurance that everyone will be briefed once it is over. Each Consul reports to the chamber positioned to act on what it hears: the Assembly, which can remove a Civic Consul under §2.6, and the Senate, which holds the confirmation and ratification powers in the Legat Consul's domain.

An earlier draft of §14.5 built its own immediate-response machinery — a twelve-hour notification and a thirty-day authorization lapse, modeled on §14.4's treaty trigger. It was removed on review. §14.1 already requires legislative authorization and voids any authorization not linked to a stated purpose; restating that requirement inside §14.5 would have duplicated existing constraint and, worse, risked the two drifting apart under future amendment. The provision now points at §14.1 rather than reproducing it.

Nothing in the document addressed a State's governing institutions failing all at once. §15.3 (Mandatory Devolution) is the closest existing mechanism, and it does not reach this case: it assumes a functioning State legislature throughout a multi-year decline, explicitly stating that the State legislature "retains full legislative authority over all remediation decisions." A State whose governor, legislative leadership, and judiciary have simultaneously ceased to function has no legislature left to retain anything. Without a provision addressing this directly, the honest answer to a State's total institutional collapse was silence — a genuine vacuum in a document whose design otherwise defines a failure state for nearly everything it creates.

§15.10 fills that gap at the level of stated principle rather than specified process. It authorizes the Republic to temporarily administer only those functions necessary to preserve rights, essential services, and the restoration of democratic State government, triggered when a State's constitutional government cannot exercise authority and cannot restore itself through its own continuity mechanisms. The State's constitutional identity and status remain unaffected throughout — deliberately not framed as reclassification to Territory status, which would raise its own cascade of unnecessary questions about Senate representation, the continued existence of the State's own constitution, and whether a restored State would need to pass a new Statehood Audit. Administration ends automatically when the State's government is restored, with no federal act required or contemplated to end it. Procedures beyond this are left to statute.

The provision was deliberately kept at this level of generality rather than specifying who confirms a finding, what timeline governs, or who administers on the Republic's behalf. Earlier drafting built out each of those in detail — a JMC finding with no binding effect, confirmation by a State's own federal delegation within 48 hours or the full Senate within 14 days, administration headed by the Civic Consul convening the State's delegation as an Emergency Panel — and each addition was a reasonable answer to a genuine question. The final choice to state the principle instead and leave implementation to statute reflects a considered judgment about which kind of provision survives longest: a constitution that pre-specifies every actor and every clock for every future misuse of every future statute risks becoming brittle in exactly the way its detailed provisions are meant to prevent. The two limits doing the actual safeguarding work are constitutional and cannot be delegated away — the scope of what temporary administration may do, and the fact that it ends automatically on the State's own terms, with no version of "the federal government decides the State is ready" available under any statute.

§15.2 described what happens once a Statehood Audit occurs and what happens after a Territory passes one, but never said how the first audit gets requested. §15.1 stated only that a Territory "may begin the Statehood pathway under §15.2," and §15.2 itself opened directly into audit administration — no petition mechanism, no resolution process, no statement of who holds the authority to trigger it. Compare §15.4, which spells out an exact NVS-authenticated signature-threshold process for its own petitions. §15.2 had nothing equivalent, despite governing a comparably consequential decision.

The gap surfaced while drafting a scenario in which a defined portion of a Territory pursues Statehood independently — the same category of action §15.2's closing sentence already contemplated, but never explained how to actually do. §15.2 is now subdivided and states two routes for the whole Territory: its own elected governing authority, established under §15.1, may request the audit by resolution, or a citizen petition may achieve the same effect, with a 5–15% statutory signature threshold mirroring §15.4's own range for a comparable civic action. A defined geographic subdivision may petition independently under the same criteria, but only through the citizen petition route — there is no established concept of a subdivision-level legislature that could pass a resolution on behalf of an arbitrary portion of a Territory, so the mechanism available to a subdivision is necessarily narrower than the one available to the whole.

One question was identified and deliberately left open rather than resolved by assumption. §15.5.a's multi-petition mechanism triggers on petitions "certified" within 90 days of one another; the citizen-petition route unambiguously satisfies that language, since §15.2(1) now makes certification by the Elections Panel explicit. Whether a whole-Territory resolution would itself count as a "petition" for that same trigger is not addressed by this fix, and is left for whenever a scenario actually requires the answer.

Article III had been left with a hole in its sequence. §3.11's protection of electoral mandates was relocated to Article I as §1.25, where it belongs with the rights it secures, and §3.12's definition of "disqualifying offense" was deleted outright once the term it defined no longer appeared anywhere in the Constitution. Neither change renumbered what followed, so the Article ran §3.10, then jumped to §3.13. A reader coming to the document fresh would have found a gap with no explanation and no way to tell whether something was missing or something had gone wrong.

The three remaining provisions have been renumbered to close it: Continuity of Constitutionally Mandated Offices from §3.13 to §3.11, Federal Legislative Competence from §3.14 to §3.12, and Delegation of Authority from §3.15 to §3.13. Article III now runs §3.1 through §3.13 without interruption, and it is the only Article that had a gap — every other change made during the review was an append or an in-provision correction, precisely to avoid this cascade.

Renumbering was the harder option and was chosen deliberately. Seventy-three citations across the constitutional text, the Quick Sheets, five scenarios, the AI navigator's index, and two State Constitutions required updating, and a careless find-and-replace would have corrupted work well outside the federal document: Harren and Varek each number their own state provisions §3.13 and §3.14, entirely unrelated to the federal sections that happen to share those numbers. Those were left untouched, while the genuine federal citations in Caldenmere and Orath — both to Federal Legislative Competence — were updated. The alternative was to leave the gap and explain it in an annotation, which real legal codes do routinely. It was rejected on the grounds that the document is the thing everything else derives from, and a reader should not need a footnote to trust that its numbering means what it appears to mean.

The Civic Consul's and Legat Consul's acting-authority provisions were roughly eighty percent identical text, differing only in which chamber's Speaker heads the order of succession — the kind of duplication this review has consolidated elsewhere. But a close comparison found two places where the two provisions genuinely diverged rather than merely varying by office, and both needed to survive whatever restructuring followed. The tiebreaker for equal continuous service is not the same kind of rule in each: the Civic Consul's version delegates to statute, the Legat Consul's is fixed directly in the constitutional text as age. And the ending condition differs in substance, not just wording — the Civic Consul's acting status ends when incapacity ends or when a new Civic Consul is elected under §2.6, while the Legat Consul's ends only when incapacity ends, with no equivalent election clause.

That second difference reflects a real structural asymmetry between the two offices rather than an oversight. The Assembly can replace an incapacitated Civic Consul quickly through §2.6's internal mechanism, naming a successor in the same motion that removes the sitting Consul — a genuinely different, faster event than incapacity simply ending, and one that can occur while the incapacity itself is still ongoing. The Legat Consul has no equivalent internal fast path: removal runs through §2.13's slower two-thirds vote or national referendum, and outright death or resignation triggers full succession under §2.9(1)–(2) rather than an end to acting status. A unified extraction that erased this difference would have quietly imported the Civic Consul's replacement architecture into an office that does not have it.

The extraction therefore split along a different line than "identical versus different by office." What was already extracted stayed extracted: §2.16(4) already governed the decline mechanic for both provisions by cross-reference, including the rule that the last person in an order of succession may not decline, which each provision had gone on to restate anyway. That restatement is now removed, leaving the rule stated once. What was never extracted, but was genuinely identical regardless of office, is new: §2.16(6) now holds the conduct of acting service common to both roles — the bar on exercising legislative function while acting, retention of the officer's own seat and chamber office, the chamber's internal provision for those functions during the acting period, and the rule that acting service neither extends nor suspends the officer's own electoral mandate. §2.5(6) and §2.9(6) each now state only what is genuinely theirs: the trigger, their own full order of succession with their own tiebreaker, and their own ending condition, with a single cross-reference to §2.16(6) rather than the conduct rules restated in full in both places.

§18.5 adapts the federal property framework for Territories, which have no State legislature and therefore cannot give the host State consent §18.4 requires. It provided that where such consent is required, a Territory's representative body publishes a written position to the NRS within 60 days "of the proposed use right registration," with registration proceeding if no position appears. The substitute was pointed at the wrong requirement. §18.4's consent requirement governs National Trust designation — the 2/3 vote of both chambers with host State consent needed to place land under permanent stewardship protection. Use rights are governed by §18.1 and §18.3, neither of which requires host consent from a State either. As written, §18.5 created a Territory-only procedural step for something States face no consent requirement on, while leaving the actual gap open: Trust land could be designated within a Territory with no territorial voice at all, because the substitute for consent was attached to a different act entirely.

§18.5 now cites §18.1 and §18.3 for the use rights framework, and directs the Territory's 60-day publication requirement at proposed National Trust designation, which is what §18.4 actually conditions on consent. This is the fourth cross-reference error found in the review, following §1.16's citation of §12.1, §15.9's citation of §7.2, and §17.1's citation of §9.5. All four shared a shape: the cited provision exists, sits adjacent to the correct one, and concerns a related subject.

Articles XIX and XX were reviewed without change. Article XIX's four-phase transition attaches a real consequence to every deadline it sets — an LM compliance finding plus a standing audit obligation that persists until the requirement is met, which is a consequence rather than a label. §19.5's treatment of inherited obligations is thorough, including the provision that an assumed international obligation conflicting with this Constitution is honored only to the minimum extent international law requires, and never so as to require any officer to violate Article I or a non-derogable right. Article XX required nothing: §20.4's sovereign mobility permits unilateral exit with no Republic consent, no conditions, and no penalties, with a 12-month transition runway and a withdrawal path where the community's own highest governance authority rules the termination decision invalid under its own law. §20.3(4)'s exclusion of the compact's economic value from any compliance assessment closes the obvious corruption vector, and §20.7 prevents a change of government from disturbing a compact in force.

This entry completes the provision-by-provision review of all twenty articles.

§17.1(4) lists the provisions that may be amended only through Popular Ratification, never by State Ratification alone — the document's strongest entrenchment, reserved for the structures that make oversight possible at all. Among them it listed "the Monitor funding guarantee (§9.5)." §9.5 is Monitor Operations, governing access to records and the delivery of findings. The funding guarantee is §9.6, and it is the provision that most needs the protection: a self-executing floor preventing either Panel or any Monitor from being funded below the inflation-adjusted prior-year level without a two-thirds concurrent vote. Starving an oversight body is the quiet way to end oversight, which is why that floor exists — and as cited, it could have been amended by State Ratification alone, while §9.5's operational rules received an entrenchment they were never meant to have. The citation is corrected to §9.6.

This is the third cross-reference error found in the review, after §1.16 citing §12.1 for an adequacy certification that provision does not contain, and §15.9(6) citing §7.2 for a supermajority standard that lives in §7.3. All three shared the same shape: the cited provision exists, sits adjacent to the right one, and concerns a related subject, so nothing appears wrong on the page. A full audit of every cross-reference in the document confirms that all 100 cited provisions exist — there are no dangling references. But that check cannot catch this class of error, which is not a citation to nothing but a citation to something else. Only reading the target finds it.

§17.3(2) requires the JM to publish a consistency analysis of any proposed amendment — advisory, but a permanent public record of what the amendment actually changes — within 30 days of passage by both chambers for a parliamentary amendment. For citizen initiative amendments the timing works: analysis within 30 days of Phase Two verification, referendum within 180 days, so the analysis always precedes the vote. For parliamentary amendments it did not. State Ratification runs "within the period defined by statute" with no floor, so a short statutory window could have allowed States to ratify before the analysis of what they were ratifying appeared. No ratification vote on a parliamentary amendment may now be held before the JM's analysis is published or the 30-day period expires, whichever comes first. The analysis remains advisory; it is simply guaranteed to be available while it can still inform anything.

§16.2(5) provides that Article I applies within the territory of each recognized indigenous nation throughout the Transition Window, unless the nation positively rejects that application through its own governance process. The provision was complete as to the Window itself and silent as to what follows it. That silence was not a gap in the design — the design is coherent — but a reader had to assemble it from three provisions to see that.

What actually happens is this. A nation electing Territorial Integration under §16.2(2)(b) enters the Republic as a Territory, and the ordinary provisions of this Constitution apply to it as they apply anywhere else. A nation holding Associated Community status — including any nation that made no election, since that status is the default under §16.2(3) — is a sovereign nation in a compact relationship rather than a jurisdiction the Republic governs, and Article XX governs the rights position accordingly: §20.3(1) bars any compact with an entity whose governance practices systematically permit violations of the non-derogable rights in §1.19.a, with annual JM compliance review and arbitration enforcement behind it. Full Article I application during the Window, the non-derogable floor thereafter, with sovereignty increasing as the relationship formalizes. That is a principled arrangement, and the provision now says where to look for it rather than leaving it to inference.

One question was examined and closed without change. §16.4 gives the Legat Consul sole authority to grant or decline post-founding recognition, within 180 days, with written grounds published to the NRS whether granted or declined — and provides no appeal, only resubmission after five years or upon a material change in the record. That sits asymmetrically beside §16.1, where a nation omitted from the founding register may petition the SC on the ground that the predecessor record was misapplied. The asymmetry is justified by the difference in the act. Compiling the founding register is ministerial, applying the predecessor record as it stands, and an error in applying a fixed record is exactly what judicial review corrects. Recognition of a nation as sovereign is a discretionary executive act, and §2.1 already enumerates recognition of foreign governments within the Legat Consul's domain. A review route would be available in form and unavailing in substance; the published-grounds requirement and political accountability are the operative constraints, and adding an appeal designed to fail would be worse than not having one.

§15.4 required a petition signed by at least 25% of eligible voters within a defined portion of a Territory to trigger a merger referendum. The figure had been adopted on a comparison to the citizen petition thresholds in §13.1 and §13.2 that does not survive checking: those provisions require 0.5% to 3% in their first phase and 5% or 10% nationally in their second, and each expresses its requirement as a constitutional range with the operative figure set by statute within it. 25% was both roughly triple the highest comparable threshold in the document and a hardcoded number where the document's own convention is a bounded range. It is now a petition signed by a percentage defined by statute at not less than 5% nor more than 15%, with a petition period not exceeding 12 months — the collection window having previously been unbounded, unlike §13.1's eight months and §13.2's ten.

§15.3(5) provided that a State in Provisional status through mandatory devolution faces a citizen vote on pursuing devolution upon entry, and another upon each subsequent annual audit failure. A State failing audits over several years would therefore face an annual referendum on its own dissolution — and unlike every other repeated-vote mechanism in the document, the population being asked has not chosen to ask. §13.1 and §13.2 bar re-initiation for three years, §15.9 for five, and §9.9 for the remainder of a term; this provision had no equivalent limit. The subsequent vote is now triggered by three consecutive annual audit failures rather than each one, mirroring the three consecutive failures required to enter Provisional status in the first place. A State that has been asked once is not asked again until it has failed as thoroughly as it failed to arrive there.

§15.9(6) cited §7.2 for the 60% supermajority standard governing the national independence referendum. §7.2 is Federal Elections and contains no threshold; the standard is §7.3, which §2.13, §4.4.a, and §9.9 all cite correctly for the same figure. The citation is corrected. This is the second broken cross-reference this review has found — §1.16 had cited §12.1 for an adequacy certification that provision never contained — and in both cases the error was invisible because the cited provision exists and is topically adjacent.

One consequence outside the constitutional text: NRS record 016, which certified the Kelvant-Korda lake corridor petition, stated that the petition had been signed by at least 25% of eligible voters "as required under §15.4." That is no longer what §15.4 requires. The record now states that signatures exceeded the threshold established by statute under §15.4, which remains accurate under the revised provision and leaves the certification itself — and everything built on it since — undisturbed.

§14.4 provides that Senate ratification of a treaty constitutes legislative authorization for military actions the treaty requires, so that no separate authorization is needed when its obligations are triggered. That is sound: the Senate authorized the commitment when it ratified, and an ally invoking a mutual defense obligation should not have to wait for a domestic vote. But as written, the authorization had no boundary. An operation begun under a treaty obligation could continue indefinitely at any scale, and it would bypass both mechanisms the rest of the Article relies on — §14.1's requirement that each authorization state which purpose it serves, and §14.3's requirement that a Transition and Reconstruction Plan be approved before authorization may be renewed a second time. Neither attaches to treaty operations, because no authorization is ever renewed. The controls §14.4 named instead were real but blunt: stopping a war through appropriations means forcing a shutdown, and treaty withdrawal under §3.6 is a far larger act than declining to renew.

The boundary is now scope rather than duration. Treaty-based authorization extends only to military action the treaty specifically requires. Where an operation extends beyond what the treaty obligates, the extended action requires ordinary legislative authorization under §14.1 and becomes subject to §14.3 on the same terms as any other operation — which means that if it continues to a second renewal, an approved Transition and Reconstruction Plan is required for it to continue at all. A narrow treaty obligation yields narrow authorization; a broad one yields broad authorization. Nothing requires re-authorizing what a treaty genuinely mandates, and a court finding excess does not halt the mandated core — only the portion beyond it needs its own basis. Whether particular action falls within a treaty's obligation is determinable by the SC on petition of any party with standing, matching how the rest of the Article routes contested questions rather than creating a pre-clearance step.

One question was examined and left unchanged. §14.1 limits the SC's review to whether the Legislature linked an authorization to an enumerated purpose, expressly excluding review of whether the underlying facts satisfy that purpose's threshold — which sits awkwardly beside the same provision's three absolute prohibitions on regime installation, resource extraction, and ideological imposition, stated to apply "regardless of legislative authorization." Writing an express carve-out permitting the Court to determine an authorization's true purpose would invite precisely the fact-finding the limitation exists to prevent. The prohibitions bind on their own terms, and a party with standing may bring the question; the Court decides what is actually before it.

§13.1 excludes three categories of law from citizen repeal: laws that solely or primarily expand an Article I right, budget laws, and laws implementing a constitutionally mandated obligation. §13.2, which permits citizens to enact legislation over the Legislature's refusal, carried no equivalent limit of any kind. The asymmetry ran the wrong direction — enactment is the more powerful act, and it had the weaker guardrails. An initiative passing at 60% of votes cast could have enacted a law narrowing an Article I right, appropriating funds outside the §12.2 budget process, or contradicting an obligation the Constitution requires.

The remedy borrows a structure the document already uses for constitutional amendments rather than inventing a new one. §17.3 does not screen amendments before ratification; it provides that where a ratified amendment's consistency is disputed, the Supreme Court resolves the question on petition of any person with standing — and, critically, that the Court may not refuse to apply an amendment that has met its procedural thresholds, except where it would extinguish a non-derogable right, in which case it is void to the extent of the extinguishment. §13.2 now works the same way. An initiative that meets its thresholds proceeds and is enacted; where a conflict with the Constitution is alleged, the SC resolves it under its original jurisdiction in §4.5, which already covers constitutional challenges to federal statutes. The Court may not decline to apply an initiative that met its thresholds, except that no initiative may narrow a right under Article I, appropriate funds or alter revenue, or extinguish a right designated non-derogable under §1.19.a. An initiative purporting to do so is void to the extent of the conflict, leaving the remainder in force.

The alternative considered and rejected was a pre-vote eligibility gate administered by the Elections Panel, mirroring §13.1(5). That would have given an administrative body the power to decide which questions citizens may put to themselves, which is a capture risk pointed directly at the mechanism §13.2 exists to protect. Placing review after enactment and constraining the Court's grounds keeps the citizen mandate intact: the Court applies stated limits rather than exercising open-ended judgment about whether an initiative should stand. It also arrives at the same place the ordinary course would have reached, since any enacted law is subject to constitutional challenge eventually — this simply provides a direct route rather than waiting for someone to be injured enough to bring suit.

With substantive limits now in place, the permanent bar on re-initiation was reconsidered and bounded. §13.1(7) and §13.2 both provided that a failed referendum or initiative could never be re-initiated on the same or substantially similar grounds. §13.1(7) contained the contradiction plainly: a law repealed by referendum and then re-enacted by the Legislature is expressly "again subject to referendum," while a law that survived a failed referendum could apparently never be challenged again. The permanent bar was doing work that belonged to an eligibility limit — and now that the limit exists, an unpersuaded electorate is simply an unpersuaded electorate, not a permanent settlement. Both provisions now bar re-initiation for three years, matching the bounded pattern used in §9.9 and §2.13, and roughly tracking an electoral cycle so that a changed Legislature and a changed public mood get a fresh hearing together. §13.2 was also subdivided into numbered subsections, matching §13.1's format; it had carried seven distinct rules in a single unbroken paragraph.

§12.4(5) made any decision taken without a required recusal voidable by simple majority of the relevant chamber, within ninety days of the conflict appearing on the National Record System. The provision is now deleted. Two problems ran through it. The chamber empowered to void a tainted decision is the same body that produced it, so where a vote fell along majority lines, the majority that benefited would decide whether to undo its own work — and after ninety days the option expired permanently, with no external route of any kind. The remedy was also wildly disproportionate to the defect: a statute passed months earlier, relied upon and possibly implemented, could be retroactively voided over one member's undisclosed interest, whether or not that member's vote changed anything. What remains is stronger than what was removed. §12.4(4) already makes recusal self-executing, §12.4(2) and (3) already put disclosure records on the NRS where they can be found, §3.4's joint ethics committee already has sanction authority, and §3.2(6) already permits expulsion. None of those depend on anyone first declaring that something has gone wrong.

That deletion raised a larger question about the phrase "constitutional breach," which the document used in two incompatible ways. In §2.13, §4.2, and §4.3.a it names a ground on which a defined body — both chambers, by supermajority — exercises judgment about whether conduct warrants removal. That use is load-bearing and cannot be replaced by a precise trigger, because the entire point is that removal requires deliberation rather than firing automatically. Elsewhere the phrase was doing something different: labeling conduct as wrongful without attaching any consequence, and without identifying who decides that the label applies. A term that requires interpretation but names no interpreter invites an infinite regress — define breach, and someone must interpret the definition; name that someone, and their own breaches need an interpreter in turn.

The document now states triggers and consequences directly wherever a consequence is automatic, and reserves "constitutional breach" for grounds on which a named body acts. §2.8 previously declared that penalizing a lawful refusal to follow an unconstitutional order "is itself a constitutional breach"; a penalty so imposed is now simply void, which is self-executing and requires no finding by anyone. §2.10 declared late publication of an executive act a compliance breach while expressly leaving the act valid, a verdict with nothing following from it; that clause is removed, leaving the operative rule that a late-published act is not void. §9.5 declared obstruction of Monitor access a breach; obstruction is now recorded as a Fail under §9.5.a and reported to the responsible body, which is a mechanism that already exists and already obliges a published response. §12.4.a's use of the term is retained: there the breach is the stated ground on which the act or determination remains subject to challenge, which is the load-bearing sense.

§12.2(8) combined two unrelated rules in a single subsection — the withholding of legislators' pay during a budget failure, and the requirement that the Legislature fund the National Endowment in surplus years. The Endowment requirement is now its own subsection (9), and its "constitutional compliance breach" language is replaced with an annual EM compliance assessment published to the NRS. The pay-withholding rule is unchanged. It was examined against §12.6's prohibition on officials setting their own compensation and found consistent: §12.6 addresses a legislature voting itself a raise, while this consequence is imposed by the Constitution rather than chosen, cannot be repealed by statute, and exists so that members who cause a budget failure are not insulated from a consequence that falls on government employees who had no part in it.

§11.1(6) states an anti-capture rule in plain terms: no single appointing authority may hold a majority of appointments to either the NRS Panel or the Elections Panel within any electoral term. Three subsections later, §11.1(9) permitted the Civic Consul to unilaterally appoint Acting members whenever a Panel fell below its five-member floor, each exercising the full authority of a seated member for up to 180 days, with no limit on how many such appointments could be made at once. Multiple simultaneous vacancies would have let a single executive install a working majority on the body that certifies federal election results — including the results of that executive's own election. The safeguard in (6) and the mechanism in (9) were pulling against each other, and (9) would have won.

The designation authority now sits with the Panel itself. Remaining members designate an Acting member from among the Panel's own qualified civil servants by majority vote, and the Civic Consul designates only where the remaining members are unable to. Acting members designated by the Civic Consul may not at any time constitute a majority of the Panel's seated membership, which closes the multi-vacancy path directly rather than relying on the general rule in (6) to be read across. The structure mirrors §9.1.d, where a Monitor General's acting mechanism operates internally rather than through an external appointing authority. The 180-day ceiling and the rule that an acting designation does not affect the ordinary process for permanently filling the vacancy are both unchanged.

§11.1(4) was also brought into line with §11.3. Both provisions respond to the same trigger — an Elections Panel finding that a State's election administration fails constitutional standards — but they offered sharply different process. §11.3 requires formal notice to the State, a statutory cure period, and an express challenge route under §4.5, and protects votes already cast. §11.1(4), which permits withholding result certification for affected districts, required none of those things. The assumption that withholding certification is the milder remedy does not survive examination: federal administration under §11.3 means the election still proceeds and votes still count, while withheld certification leaves validly cast ballots without a certified outcome, with no path back except eventual compliance or a special election. The provision with the graver consequence for voters carried the weaker protections. §11.1(4) is now exercised only through §11.3's process, and expressly does not affect the validity of votes cast.

One question was examined and deliberately left unchanged. §11.3 gives a State a challenge route under §4.5 but does not stay the Elections Panel's direct administration pending that challenge, meaning a State that ultimately prevails may nonetheless have had an election federally administered. A stay provision would be the more dangerous design: a State could file a challenge and run its election under standards the Panel had formally found inadequate, with the delay itself as the objective. The current structure accepts that a wrongly overridden State receives vindication rather than prevention, which is the better of two imperfect outcomes where election dates are fixed and cannot wait for litigation.

§10.2 permits a single five-year extension beyond the ordinary twenty-five year classification ceiling25 years maximum, extendable once by five — and never past 30 under any circumstances., granted where the responsible executive publishes a justification and the Executive Monitor assesses whether that justification meets the statutory standard. The structure looked like external review, but §9.1 is explicit that Monitor findings "are not binding on any constitutional actor and are not a prerequisite for any legal proceeding or governmental function." An adverse EM finding therefore did nothing. The executive could publish a justification, the EM could publish a finding that it failed the standard, and the extension would proceed regardless — a five-year extension effectively self-granted, accompanied by a mandatory second opinion that carried no weight.

The obvious repair would have been to condition the extension on a favorable finding, but that would make Monitor findings binding and break the information-only mandate the entire Monitor architecture rests on. The extension therefore remains within the responsible executive's discretion, exactly as before. What changes is that the finding now has somewhere to go. Any person with standing may petition the applicable court for full declassification of a specific record during an extension period, and any EM finding published under this section is expressly admissible in that proceeding. The Monitor still only observes and reports; the report becomes evidence a citizen can carry into court rather than a document that can only be read.

A second petition route was added alongside it, available at any point during a classification period rather than only during an extension. Any person with standing may petition for release of a classified record in redacted form, and the court orders release of any portion whose disclosure would not itself satisfy the statutory ground under which the record was classified. Previously §10.2 offered only a binary — fully classified until a ceiling expired, then fully public — which meant a single sensitive passage could keep an entire record dark for decades. The standard is deliberately narrow: the government must justify each withheld portion on the same ground that justified classifying the record, not by association with it. Where a record is released in redacted form, the redactions themselves and the statutory ground for each are published to the NRS alongside the released portion, so that over-redaction is visible and challengeable rather than invisible — the same principle by which §10.1(6) keeps a restriction record permanently public even when the underlying record is restricted. Neither route disturbs the thirty-year absolute ceiling, which remains the outer limit of classification under any circumstances.

§10.1(6) also gained a bar on repetition. The provision lets the NRS Panel, by unanimous vote, temporarily restrict access to a record posing an imminent, specific, and documented threat to individual safety, for up to thirty days pending judicial review, with the record permanently restored unless a court confirms the restriction on the narrowest possible grounds. Nothing prevented the Panel from restricting the same record again immediately after a court ordered it restored, on freshly worded grounds — each cycle individually lawful, and each buying another period of suppression. Where a reviewing court declines to confirm a restriction, that record may no longer be restricted under this subsection on the same or substantially similar grounds. Genuinely new circumstances still qualify; a second attempt at the same argument does not. The bar follows the pattern §9.9 and §2.13 already use to prevent repeat proceedings from wearing down what a first proceeding decided.

§9.2 states the structural principle on which the entire Monitor system rests: each Monitor is constituted through a process that structurally excludes the body being watched from selecting its watchers. The Supreme Court nominates the Legislative Monitor General; the two chamber Speakers jointly nominate the Executive Monitor General; the Judicial Monitor General is drawn by public lottery. All three are confirmed by national popular vote. Selection was carefully insulated. Removal was not.

Under the prior §9.9, removal of any Monitor General ran through the Supreme Court, which determined whether the stated grounds fit a statutory removal category, followed by a two-thirds concurrent vote of both chambers. For the Judicial Monitor General — whose mandate is auditing the courts — that made the audited body the gatekeeper for removing its own auditor. The Court could not remove anyone, and its review was expressly limited to constitutional category rather than factual merits, but it could decline to confirm grounds and thereby close a proceeding, with re-initiation barred for six months. The same circularity §9.2 was written to prevent had reappeared at the other end of the officer's tenure.

Removal now mirrors selection. Initiation belongs to the branch or branches the Monitor does not audit: both executives for the Legislative Monitor General, the Supreme Court for the Executive Monitor General, and the Legislature together with both executives for the Judicial Monitor General. No branch participates in removing the officer who audits it. What initiation accomplishes is also narrowed — the initiating authority can suspend, and nothing more. Removal itself requires a national referendum at 60% of votes cast with 55% participation, matching the threshold §2.13 already sets for Consular recall. The people confirm these officers into office, and only the people can end the term.

The suspension is bounded on both ends. A referendum must be administered within 90 days of filing or at the next regularly scheduled federal election, whichever comes first. Where the referendum fails, or where none is administered in time, the suspension lapses automatically and full authority returns by constitutional operation with no further act required — the same self-executing pattern §9.6 uses for the funding floor, so that inaction restores the officer rather than stranding them. A failed referendum bars re-initiation on the same or substantially similar grounds for the remainder of that Monitor General's term; a failed national vote is a stronger verdict than a failed legislative one, and permitting repeat attempts every six months would let an initiating branch wear down an officer it could not remove.

Removal of other constitutionally confirmed independent officers — independent agency directors, the Monetary Authority Director — continues under the existing mechanism of Supreme Court category review and a two-thirds concurrent legislative vote. The asymmetry is deliberate and follows the same logic: those officers are confirmed by the Senate rather than by popular vote, and routing their removal through a national referendum would give them stronger protection than the body that appointed them.

A separate principle was applied across every provision that suspends an officer's authority. Suspension is a political mechanism, not a punishment, and it precedes any finding that the officer did anything wrong. §9.9 in both tracks, §9.1.d's incapacity suspension, and §2.16's executive incapacity determination now each state that suspension does not affect compensation, benefits, or the running of the officer's term. Left silent, an initiating authority could have treated suspension as a financial instrument against an officer nobody had yet removed — a particular danger for watchdogs serving fixed, non-renewable terms. §9.1.d also gains an explicit bridge: its acting mechanism previously covered death, resignation, removal, and certified incapacity, but not suspension pending a removal vote, which would have left the office without an acting officer during precisely the window when oversight matters most.

§8.4 required the public campaign financing system to be funded at no less than the average total campaign expenditure recorded in the National Record System for that office across the preceding cycle. The intent was that a publicly financed candidate should be able to compete. The effect was a benchmark that could only rise. Public money spent on campaigns is itself campaign expenditure and is itself recorded in the National Record System, so every cycle's public spending entered the average that set the next cycle's mandatory minimum, which raised the average again. Nothing in the provision excluded publicly financed spending from the figure it was measured against. The floor was indexed to a number it was continuously inflating.

Correcting the arithmetic alone would have left a deeper problem in place: a floor pegged to average total expenditure treats public financing as something that should fund an entire campaign at prevailing cost. That is not what the mechanism is for. Public financing exists so that a candidate without existing access to private money can begin at all — it gets a candidacy off the line, and private support carries it from there. A candidate who cannot attract that support was never going to be competitive on public money alone, and a system that tried to make them so would be funding campaigns rather than enabling candidacies.

§8.4 now states that purpose in its own text: the system exists to make candidacy possible for those without existing access to private funding, and is not intended to fund a campaign in full. Public support is an initial allocation sufficient to establish a viable candidacy, set by statute and reviewed each cycle. The expenditure benchmark is removed entirely rather than repaired, which eliminates the feedback loop at its source. The former guarantee that no candidate be "structurally disadvantaged by choosing to participate" — language broad enough to have justified the total-expenditure reading — is replaced with the specific protections that were actually meant: accepting public support does not bar subsequent private fundraising under §8.1, and no participant may be disadvantaged in eligibility, ballot access, or spectrum access under §8.3. How the system is funded remains unstated and therefore open to the Legislature, including mechanisms that draw on private contributions themselves.

§8.1's disclosure rule was also restructured. It previously required contributions above a de minimis threshold to be disclosed to the Elections Panel and published to the NRS in a single act, which meant the threshold governed what the regulator saw as well as what the public saw — and the threshold was defined by statute with no bound. A Legislature could have set it high enough to blind the enforcement body. Disclosure and publication are now separate obligations. Every contribution is disclosed in full to the Elections Panel without threshold or exception, including contributor identity and amount. The Panel publishes to the NRS, and may present contributions below a statutory threshold in aggregate or generalized form to protect the privacy of individual small donors — but nothing may be withheld from the Panel itself. The threshold remains undefined by the Constitution, appropriately: under the corrected structure it governs only the granularity of public presentation, never the completeness of oversight, and any specific figure would be arbitrary.

Two further questions raised in review resolved without change. §8.2's campaign conduct standards were examined on a standing concern that they might empower the Elections Panel to police the content of political speech. They do not, and the provision is unusually careful about it: its enumerated prohibitions are all objectively determinable conduct — impersonation, vote suppression, interference with electoral administration — and it twice states that enforcement does not extend to the truthfulness or content of campaign communications, which remain subject only to private civil litigation. §8.2's disqualification of candidates who "knowingly" accept foreign assistance was also examined and left in place; the knowledge requirement creates a real evidentiary gap, but strict liability for foreign money a candidate could not have known about would be a worse injustice than the gap it closed.

§7.3 sets 60% of votes cast as the constitutional threshold for every direct electoral supermajority determination, then closed by naming what it does not govern — and named the citizen legislative initiative under §13.2 as excluded while describing that initiative, in the same parenthetical, as requiring 60% of votes cast. The provision excluded a mechanism and then stated it used the very threshold being excluded. The distinction being reached for was real: §13.2 pairs its threshold with a 50% participation floor, so it is not purely a §7.3 determination. But §2.13's recall does the same thing — 60% under §7.3 plus 55% participation — and §7.3 lists that one as governed. Having a participation requirement could not be the line, because the provision applied it inconsistently to two mechanisms built the same way.

The closing sentence now states the boundary as a division of labor rather than a list of exceptions: §7.3 governs the supermajority threshold itself, while participation floors and turnout ceilings are established in the provisions requiring them. §13.1's optional referendum remains expressly outside the section, since it requires only a simple majority and so involves no supermajority threshold at all. §13.2 is no longer named, because under the corrected framing it was never an exception — its 60% comes from §7.3 and its participation floor comes from itself, exactly as §2.13 already worked.

Separately, §2.1 and §2.5 each carried the sentence "No other eligibility requirement applies," placed immediately after a cross-reference to §7.4's general requirements for federal office. A constitution that states its requirements does not need to add that no others exist; the list is the requirements. Worse, the sentence had become false in both provisions. §2.1 imposes a two-term limit and a mandatory gap between terms; §2.5 imposes an eight-year cumulative cap and its own cooling-off period; §2.17 bars both offices' holders from executive-branch service during those periods; and §7.4(9) addresses cooling-off eligibility generally. Each provision was contradicted by its own later text. Both sentences are removed, leaving the office-specific requirement followed by the §7.4 cross-reference — which is what the passage was always doing.

§1.3's prohibition on torture was revised earlier in this review to run on who is acting rather than where the person is standing, replacing a territorial test with one reaching any agent or officer of the Republic wherever located, and anyone acting at the Republic's direction or with its acquiescence. §1.21 — the non-refoulement guarantee, barring return to any territory where a person faces genuine risk of persecution, torture, or deprivation of life — was left with the original territorial phrasing, "within the Republic's jurisdiction." The inconsistency was introduced by that earlier fix and surfaced during the Article VI review, which depends on §1.21 throughout its asylum provisions.

The gap between the two was narrow but real, and it ran in an unfortunate direction. Republic agents intercepting a person outside territorial waters and handing them to a state where they faced persecution would have been clearly barred from torturing that person under the revised §1.3, while the return itself sat in the ambiguity of whether the person had ever been "within the Republic's jurisdiction." Both provisions are non-derogable and address the same underlying wrong from different angles; there is no principled reason for one to reach extraterritorial conduct and the other not to.

§1.21 now bars return, expulsion, or extradition of any person wherever located, by the Republic or by anyone acting at its direction or with its acquiescence. The actor is stated as the Republic rather than an individual agent, since return is an act of state rather than something an individual officer performs unilaterally — a deliberate difference from §1.3's phrasing rather than an inconsistency between them. The remaining sentences are unchanged: the protection still applies regardless of the person's status, conduct, or the nature of the receiving territory's government, and remains non-derogable under §1.19.a.

§3.12 defined "disqualifying offense" wherever the term appeared in the Constitution: a federal felony conviction, excluding state and foreign convictions, with rules for how pardons and pending appeals affected that status. Five provisions used the term. On examination, none of them needed it.

The decisive point is that a disqualifying offense was never grounds for removal on its own — it was grounds on which a body with removal authority could act if it chose. §2.13 still required two-thirds of both chambers; §4.3.a still required a two-thirds concurrent vote; §3.9 and §4.2 still required a determination that cause was made out. A supermajority persuaded that a conviction warranted removal would have reached that conclusion under any framing, and one unpersuaded would not have been compelled by a definition. The provision spent considerable text specifying the precise contours of a threshold that remained entirely discretionary once crossed. The pardon and appeal rules had the same character: they governed only whether a conviction counted as a "disqualifying offense" specifically, while a chamber weighing misconduct was always free to factor a pardon or a pending appeal into its judgment however it saw fit.

The term is now gone from the document. §2.13 and §4.3.a replace it with serious misconduct, which reaches the conviction case and closes a real gap besides — neither provision previously had any conduct-based ground at all, only constitutional breach and incapacity. §3.9 and §4.2 now specify that cause must relate to conduct or competence; the protection that actually secures independence in both provisions is the negative one, that cause may not include policy disagreement, and enumerating positive grounds added little. §4.3.a's count of three grounds remains accurate. Provision totals move to 20 articles and 169 provisions.

Separately, §3.11 moves to Article I as §1.25, unchanged in substance. It protects elected mandates against every branch by name — the Legislature, either executive, any court, any Monitor, any administrative body — which is the shape of an Article I guarantee rather than a rule about legislative structure. Read as a right, it belongs to the electorate: the people who elect a representative hold a right to have that representative serve the term they were elected to, subject only to the enumerated exceptions of expulsion, recall, and constitutional removal. Appended rather than inserted, so no existing provision renumbered.

§3.10 (removal pathways) and §3.13 (continuity of constitutionally mandated offices) were examined for relocation and deliberately left in place. Both reach beyond the Legislature, but both operate principally as constraints on legislative power — removal mechanisms may not be created by statute, and confirmation processes must be timed to prevent vacancies between terms — and the Legislature is both the branch closest to the people and the body that legislates conduct standards. §3.10 in particular derives its force from being a complete enumeration in one place; distributing it across four articles would leave its bar on statutory removal mechanisms referring to a list that no longer existed as a list. The rationale for their placement, previously invisible, is now stated in Article III's introduction on the annotated edition.

§5.3 opens by naming citizen children twice: the Republic accepts responsibility for "that citizen child" when a primary caregiver is removed, and may not separate "citizen children" from sole caregivers without providing for them. Its final sentence then switches subject without signaling it — a removal order that would deprive "an Inhabitant child" of their primary caregiver is stayed pending resolution of custodial arrangements. Since §5.2 uses Inhabitant to describe legal residents specifically, the stay read as covering non-citizen children while excluding the citizen children the provision opens by naming.

That cannot have been the intent, and the inversion is the tell. The obligation to a citizen child under the first two sentences is remedial — it operates after the caregiver is gone, providing housing and care to a child who has just lost a parent. The stay is preventive; it stops the separation from occurring while custody is resolved. Assigning the remedial protection to citizens and the preventive one to non-citizens reverses the logic of the surrounding article, in which citizenship consistently carries more protection rather than less. The middle sentence's acknowledgment that separation is a live risk for citizen children makes it stranger still that the mechanism preventing it would be handed to a different group. The stay now reads "a citizen or Inhabitant child," matching the two sentences above it.

Separately, §5.1's derivative-status window — the period within which a child born before a parent acquired residency or citizenship must accompany that parent to receive derivative status — was left entirely to the Legislature with no constitutional bound, the same open-ended delegation corrected in §3.4's sitting-days requirement earlier in this review. A statute could have set it short enough to be meaningless. It is now defined by statute at not less than five years, leaving real legislative latitude above that floor while preventing the provision from being hollowed out from below.

§5.1 carried two protections against losing citizenship, and they were not equally strong. One was absolute but applied only to natural-born citizens: citizenship could not be stripped from them at all. The other applied to everyone but carried a qualifier — no citizenship could be revoked "as punishment." A naturalized citizen therefore held the weaker of the two, and the weakness was in the qualifier itself. Whether a revocation counts as punishment is a characterization the revoking government applies to its own action, and a government intent on stripping someone's citizenship does not call it punishment. It calls it an administrative correction, a records-integrity measure, a security determination. That is the same structural flaw already identified in §3.3's redistricting language, where a limit depends on the actor's own account of its intent rather than on anything observable.

Compounding this, the document nowhere addressed the one situation in which revocation is genuinely defensible. Fraud in the original naturalization application — a grant obtained on false premises — was neither authorized nor prohibited anywhere in Article V or Article VI. The most common real justification simply went unmentioned, leaving it to be argued into or out of existence later.

The revision resolves both. Citizenship may not be stripped from any citizen, natural-born or naturalized, except as the section itself provides — and the only exception provided is narrow. Naturalized citizenship may be revoked solely upon a judicial finding, by clear and convincing evidence, that it was obtained through material fraud in the application itself: not fraud discovered elsewhere in a life, not conduct after naturalization, but a defect going to whether the grant was validly made. Requiring a court and a heightened standard of proof is what closes the bad-faith gap; the executive no longer characterizes its own action into legitimacy. Natural-born citizenship remains absolutely irrevocable, since the exception reaches naturalization only.

Two further limits sit inside the exception. No revocation may occur where it would render the person stateless — restated here deliberately, though §5.1 prohibits manufactured statelessness elsewhere, so that the fraud exception cannot be read as an implied carve-out from that prohibition. And revocation does not extend to anyone who acquired citizenship derivatively through the naturalized person: §5.1 already grants derivative status to accompanying children, and without this limit a parent's fraud could cascade onto a child who had no part in it.

The one-turn-per-pool rule adopted for the Judicial Pool in the previous session barred any person confirmed to any federal judicial appointment from ever being nominated to another. On review that proved too broad, and in a way that worked directly against the quality of the bench. Movement from a district court to an appellate court to the Supreme Court is ordinary judicial career progression, not an attempt to hoard scarce seats. Barring it created a perverse incentive: an ambitious candidate who wanted the Supreme Court would be rational to decline a district appointment entirely, since accepting one would foreclose the higher court permanently. The rule therefore penalized exactly the people willing to take the less glamorous trial-bench work, and guaranteed that the Supreme Court could only ever draw from candidates with no prior federal judicial experience — a strange filter for the highest court in the system.

The revision separates the two concerns the original rule had collapsed together. Repetition of the same office is still barred: a person who has served in a federal judicial appointment may not be nominated again to the same court, preserving what §4.2(3)'s non-renewable twelve-year term already establishes about not holding one bench indefinitely. But nomination to a different federal court remains open, leaving the promotion path intact.

The Supreme Court is treated differently and deliberately: a person who has served as a Supreme Court justice may not re-enter the Judicial Pool or be nominated to any federal judicial appointment at all. The asymmetry is the point. A lower-court judge who might later be elevated has an ordinary career ahead of them; a sitting Supreme Court justice who could later hold a lower appointment would have a career ahead of them that depends on how they rule now. Making the Court terminal removes that entirely — the same reasoning that makes the Legat Consul's office a destination rather than a stepping stone. Temporary and acting judicial service continues to count for nothing under this provision, which matters more here than anywhere: §4.4(7) routinely places appellate judges into Supreme Court seats as Temporary Associate Justices during vacancies, and without that carve-out, filling in would permanently end a judge's career.

§4.3 requires a minimum of five justices for any constitutional question, regardless of the Court's total seated membership. §4.5(6) separately established a four-justice emergency panel, quorum three, for constitutional challenges to military authority during active operations — and military-authority disputes are inherently constitutional questions. Neither provision acknowledged the other. The emergency panel was either a deliberate, unstated exception to the five-justice floor, or the two provisions genuinely conflicted, and nothing in either text said which. That is exactly the kind of ambiguity that surfaces at the worst possible moment: a live military crisis, a three-justice panel ruling, and a losing party arguing the ruling is void for want of quorum on a constitutional question.

The fix removes the fixed number entirely rather than picking one that reconciles with five. §4.5(6) now gives the SC jurisdiction and a bounded deadline — the actual constitutional floor — and lets the Court establish its own procedures for the composition and conduct of expedited review. How many justices sit on an emergency panel is exactly the kind of administrative detail that belongs to the body exercising the power, not a number fixed in the abstract by the document that created it.

A related question raised during the same review resolved as no defect at all: whether §4.3's five-justice floor could become unreachable if the Court were ever at its three-justice constitutional minimum. It cannot. §4.4(7) already requires that any SC vacancy be automatically backfilled within five days by the senior Appellate Court judge as a Temporary Associate Justice holding full voting rights, and §4.3 already counts Temporary Associate Justices toward seated membership for quorum. The three-justice floor bounds how far the Legislature may shrink the Court's permanent size through attrition; it was never describing how few people actually sit and vote at any given time. No text change was needed once the mechanism was traced through.

Separately, §4.4.a permitted a Temporary Associate Justice placed on a public confirmation ballot to "advocate for their own confirmation" — language that undersold what the provision actually permits. Nominees already advocate for themselves in ordinary Senate confirmations; that was never in question and needed no special permission. What is genuinely new in the public-ballot bypass is soliciting votes from the electorate directly, which does not happen in the ordinary process regardless of how forcefully a nominee makes their own case. The provision now says a placed justice "may publicly campaign for their own confirmation" — naming the actual departure from ordinary judicial selection rather than a form of self-advocacy that was never restricted anywhere in the first place, and sitting more precisely beside the very next sentence, which governs advocacy conduct, contributions, and disclosure during exactly that campaign.

Two smaller questions raised during the review were confirmed as requiring no change. §4.2(5)'s bar on public officials influencing a pending judicial decision states a constitutional floor with no attached penalty of its own — consistent with how this document generally leaves consequence and enforcement mechanics to the accountability structure already governing whichever category of official commits the violation, rather than writing a bespoke penalty into every prohibition. And §4.1's use of "inferior courts" to cover both the district and appellate tiers is standard constitutional usage, not an internal ambiguity requiring clarification.

§9.4.a establishes the single Judicial Pool from which every federal judicial appointment is drawn — Supreme Court justices under §4.4 and inferior court judges under §4.2 alike. Each tier already barred a person from serving twice in the same seat: SC justices and inferior judges both serve a single non-renewable 12-year term. Nothing, however, stopped a person from crossing tiers — a former SC justice later nominated as an inferior court judge, or the reverse. The Judicial Pool now closes that gap directly: a person nominated and confirmed to any federal judicial appointment from the pool may not subsequently re-enter it or be nominated to any other federal judicial appointment. Temporary or acting judicial service does not count as a nomination and confirmation for this purpose, consistent with how acting service is treated throughout the document.

The Monitor Generals presented the same underlying concern in a structurally different shape. Unlike the Judicial Pool, the three Monitor General pools — Legislative, Executive, and Judicial Monitor — are entirely separate registries under §9.3, so a rule barring re-entry into one's own pool would not have stopped someone completing a full term as one Monitor General from later being nominated as a different one. The fix states the bar directly rather than relying on pool structure to produce it: any person confirmed by the public to serve a full term as a Monitor General is not subsequently eligible to enter any Monitor General pool, in any of the three capacities.

Two proportionality carve-outs apply to both new rules, deliberately mirroring how §2.9(5)'s own successor eligibility was just reconciled earlier this session. First, a person confirmed only to serve the remainder of a predecessor's term following an unscheduled vacancy — not a full, originally scheduled term — is barred only from returning to that same specific office, not from the other Monitor General capacities; someone who serves two years finishing another's term has not had the same turn as someone confirmed to a full decade, and the rule does not treat them identically. Second, acting service under §9.1.d never triggers either bar at all, since §9.1.d already treats acting service as a non-event for permanent eligibility — the Acting Monitor General explicitly returns to the candidate pool when their acting service ends, and this new rule does not disturb that.

§2.9(5) was written when the Legat Consul held a single non-renewable term, full stop, and said a former successor, after the cooling-off period, "may stand for and serve a full elected term" — singular, because a single term was the only term anyone could ever hold. Today's restructuring of §2.1 to a two-term system was not reconciled against this language when it was drafted, and the old singular phrasing read, on a stress test run against the new structure, as capping a former successor at exactly one elected term while every other candidate is eligible for two. That was never a deliberate asymmetry; it was a cross-reference this session's own search for the old term length missed, since it caught a citation (§7.2's election calendar) but not a substantive rule stated in different words elsewhere.

§2.9(5) now points directly at §2.1 rather than restating a term count of its own: after the cooling-off period, a former successor is eligible for election on the same terms as any other candidate, subject to the full two-term limit §2.1 establishes. The cooling-off requirement itself is unchanged — a successor who serves any portion of a predecessor's term still must sit out one full term before standing for election at all. Only what happens after that gap changes, from an accidental one-term ceiling to the same allowance everyone else gets.

§3.2(4) and §3.5(3) both stated that no cumulative lifetime restriction applies once a member returns from the cooling-off period following six consecutive Assembly terms or two consecutive Senate terms — meaning, as written, unlimited return service indefinitely. That was never the intended design; it was a drafting error that diverged from an earlier design decision without anyone noticing until a direct comparison against that decision surfaced it.

Both provisions now cap the return: an Assembly member may serve up to three additional terms after the cooling-off period, after which no further Assembly service is permitted; a senator may serve up to one additional term, after which no further Senate service is permitted. The numbers are deliberately chosen to converge: six consecutive Assembly terms (12 years) plus three additional (6 years) reaches an 18-year lifetime maximum; two consecutive Senate terms (12 years) plus one additional (6 years) reaches the same 18-year maximum. Both chambers arrive at an identical lifetime ceiling despite their different term lengths and cycle structures — deliberate symmetry, not coincidence.

The Legat Consul previously served a single non-renewable six-year term with an absolute lifetime bar — the strictest limit of any constitutional office, and one with no electoral accountability at all within the term itself: an LC never faced voters again on their own record, for better or worse. The office now runs on four-year terms, up to two, an eight-year lifetime maximum matching the Civic Consul's own cumulative cap. A former Legat Consul may not seek a second term at the next election for the office, but may seek it at any election thereafter — a mandatory gap, not simply a right of immediate re-election.

The gap is the load-bearing piece. Two terms served consecutively would mean eight continuous years holding military command, foreign affairs, and intelligence with no interruption — the entrenchment risk the original single-term design existed to prevent in the first place, reintroduced by a different door. The mandatory skip ensures that risk stays closed: an LC seeking a second term must first hand the office to someone else for a full four-year cycle before they may run again. The total lifetime exposure to one person's judgment and relationships across the coercive apparatus does rise, from six years to eight — a genuine tradeoff, accepted deliberately in exchange for a real mid-course electoral check the prior design never had. §7.2's federal election calendar is updated to match: Consular elections now recur every four years rather than six.

A related gap surfaced in drafting the new term structure: nothing in the document said whether a person serving a constitutionally mandated cooling-off period — whether from the Legat Consul's new gap, the Civic Consul's existing one, or any future one — could hold a different constitutional office during that interval. New §7.4(9) answers this generally rather than provision-by-provision: a cooling-off period does not bar holding or seeking any other office for which a person is otherwise eligible, unless this Constitution expressly says otherwise. New §2.17 is that express exception for the executive branch specifically: a person cooling off from the Civic Consul or Legat Consul office may not serve as a minister, domain officer, or in an acting executive capacity during that period — closing what would otherwise be a live loophole, an outgoing Legat Consul serving as Director of Intelligence or Director of Defense during their own gap, staying adjacent to the same apparatus the interruption was built to create distance from. Service in the Legislature, the judiciary, or any other office remains open. With the general rule now in place, §2.5's Civic Consul provision drops language affirmatively noting a cooling-off Consul may hold an Assembly seat — now redundant twice over, once by the general default and once more by §2.17 confirming only the executive branch is restricted. Counts move to 20 articles and 170 provisions.

§1.6 subjected economic-status distinctions to strict scrutiny alongside race, religion, and the rest of its protected list — and on its own terms, read literally, that put the Republic's own social state obligations in constitutional tension with its own equality clause. §12.1's mandate that the Republic provide "social assistance sufficient to maintain basic material conditions" only means anything if eligibility and amount are calibrated to need; a program of assistance that doesn't ask whether someone already has adequate means isn't assistance, it's a universal payment. Any statute actually implementing §12.1 necessarily creates the exact distinction §1.6 subjected to its highest bar.

The fix follows a structural pattern already present in the same provision: age distinctions already carry their own carve-out to rational basis review, rather than sitting at strict scrutiny with everything else. Economic status now gets the same treatment, split by direction rather than exempted outright. Distinctions that extend additional benefits, assistance, or support to persons of lesser economic means — §12.1's obligations named as the clearest example, not the only one — are subject to rational basis review. Distinctions that impose additional burdens or restrict access based on wealth remain at strict scrutiny, undiminished. The provision still stops what it was built to stop — a poll tax, a wealth-gated right, any burden that penalizes being poor — while no longer standing in tension with the redistributive mandate the document requires elsewhere.

§1.3's absolute, non-derogable bar on torture and cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment protected only "person[s] within the Republic's jurisdiction" — a territorial test, and precisely the phrasing that produced decades of real-world litigation elsewhere over offshore detention, black sites, and extraordinary rendition. A government's own agents acting outside its physical borders is exactly the scenario a bad-faith reading of "jurisdiction" would try to exploit against the strongest protection this document has.

The test now asks who is acting, not where the person is. No person, wherever located, may be subjected to such treatment by an agent or officer of the Republic acting in that capacity, and the bar extends to any person acting at the Republic's direction or with its acquiescence — closing the outsourcing route of handing someone to a third party or a foreign government's own interrogators while no Republic hand is ever directly involved. This mirrors a pattern the document already uses elsewhere: §1.5 bars penalizing expression "through intermediaries it controls or has directed to suppress expression," the same shift from direct action to responsibility for what's done on your behalf. Being non-derogable, this now binds Republic military and intelligence personnel operating anywhere, including under the Legat Consul's foreign-affairs and defense domain, with no emergency exception available at any time.

§1.5 contained a single scrutiny standard for its only regulatory clause: government may regulate the time, place, and manner of expression and assembly for compelling public-order purposes, and any such regulation was subject to strict scrutiny. That is an unusually high bar for what the clause actually governs — a parade route, a noise ordinance, a venue capacity limit face the identical standard a genuine attempt to suppress a message would have to clear. Most systems that take expression seriously still separate these as different threats: content and viewpoint discrimination are the core danger a strong speech right exists to stop, while neutral scheduling and public-order rules are a different, much smaller category of risk.

The clause now requires intermediate scrutiny for time, place, and manner regulation specifically, while every other protection in §1.5 is unchanged — the viewpoint non-discrimination requirement, the absolute prohibition on compelled expression and jawboning through controlled intermediaries, and religion's absolute protection of belief with practice protected short of direct harm to others. The effect is an expression right with two working tiers instead of one uniform ceiling: routine, content-neutral regulation has to clear a real but reachable bar, while anything that touches content or viewpoint remains subject to the strictest standard the document has.

§1.15 already barred retrying the same offense and closed the obvious relabeling loophole — a charge requiring no element distinct from the original counts as the same offense regardless of what it's called. What it left silent was the multi-jurisdiction case entirely: whether a State and the Republic could each prosecute conduct that violates both a State law and a federal one, deferring the question to statute rather than answering it at the constitutional floor.

The Republic and a State may now each prosecute the same conduct under their own respective laws — each is exercising its own distinct authority, not retrying the same offense twice. But where both convict, punishment does not simply stack: sentences run concurrently and the person serves only the greater of the two terms, with time served under either counting toward both. An acquittal or conviction in one jurisdiction does not bar or otherwise affect the other's separate prosecution, in either direction — a State case and a federal case run fully independently of one another's outcome.

The mechanism deliberately does not extend to Territories or to local governments, and the omission tracks real distinctions already established elsewhere in the document rather than an oversight. §15.1 gives Territories an elected local governing authority over matters of local concern under a Territorial Compact — narrower than a State's full sovereign lawmaking, not an independent source of authority running parallel to the Republic's. §15.8 recognizes local governments as constitutional actors in their own right, entitled to fiscal protection against a State starving them into irrelevance, but grants no independent lawmaking sovereignty distinct from the State that created them. Neither is a second sovereign in the sense this provision requires; both remain governed by §1.15's original same-offense bar, which already reaches a conflict between a State law and a Territorial or local rule with no distinct element between them.

§3.4 required the Legislature to sit a statutory minimum number of days, with no floor on what that minimum could be — a Legislature could set it near zero and remain compliant. The fix inverts the default: each chamber now sits in regular session on every business day of the year, and time away is a bounded, named exception rather than open-ended discretion. Recess is capped at 45 days per year and reserved explicitly for constituent engagement, not general time off, and every period of recess must be scheduled in advance and published to the NRS at least 30 days before it begins — so a chamber cannot declare a surprise recess to avoid an inconvenient vote, and the total time away cannot quietly expand into something closer to a part-time body.

§3.7's non-compliance mechanism had a defined response (LM finding, SC justiciability, direct constitutional claims where an Article I right is impaired) but no defined trigger — nothing established when unfulfilled became failure. It now runs from one year after the constitutional obligation arises.

§2.4 was titled Legat Consul International Agreements and, with no signal in the text, also contained the complete domain officer framework — nomination, qualification, Senate removal, dismissal. Split into §2.4 (treaties and trade agreements only) and new §2.4.a, Domain Officers, carrying that material under its own name. §3.10's removal-pathway citation is repointed accordingly.

§3.5(9) restated a rule already stated in full in §3.1 — that all legislation originates in the Assembly. §3.1 remains the sole home; §3.5(9) now reads "the Senate may not initiate legislation, consistent with §3.1" rather than repeating the underlying rule.

§2.16(2)(a)'s Council-of-Ministers incapacity determination required a majority of members then in office, provided no fewer than five were in office — with no path forward if fewer than five remained, which is exactly the scenario most likely to produce the vacancy in the first place. Where fewer than five members are in office, the determination may now be made jointly by the other Consul and the Chief Justice, published to the NRS — reusing the cross-branch certification pattern already established elsewhere in the document rather than inventing new machinery.

One item originally scoped for this batch was set aside on closer inspection rather than forced through: §2.5(6) and §2.9(6), the Civic and Legat Consul temporary-incapacity succession provisions, share procedural machinery (declination, the bar on exercising legislative functions while acting, restoration timing) but their actual succession chains and tiebreakers genuinely differ by chamber, including a real substantive difference in tiebreaker rule. A clean deduplication would require extracting the shared mechanics into §2.16 and leaving each provision with only its chamber-specific order — a real restructuring, not a mechanical fix, and it remains open. Counts move to 20 articles and 169 provisions.

§1.9 bundled two unrelated subjects under one name, “Democratic Participation and Family” — itself a sign of the problem, since a provision needing “and” in its own title usually covers two things rather than one. Voting rights and the right to found a family have no relationship to each other, and each has now been given its own home. §1.9 is voting only, renamed simply Democratic Participation, and the family provision moves to new §1.24 at the end of Article I — appended rather than inserted into thematic sequence, so nothing after §1.9 needed renumbering, and no anchor, citation, or downstream file was disturbed by the split.

§1.9 also carried an internal contradiction: an absolute bar on any action making voting “more difficult, less accessible, or less secure,” sitting beside a separate clause requiring accessibility “consistent with security.” Since most genuine security measures add friction, the absolute clause and the balancing clause could not both govern — adopting a verification step violated the first; omitting one violated it from the other direction. The absolute bar now turns on purpose or substantial effect: government may not act “for the purpose of, or having the substantial effect of, suppressing or reducing access to the franchise.” A security measure adopted for that purpose and without a substantial suppressive effect no longer competes with the absolute clause at all — it falls to the accessibility-consistent-with-security standard already in the next sentence, which becomes the operative test for ordinary election administration rather than being pre-empted by a rule that caught everything.

The new §1.24 was deliberately trimmed rather than moved intact. The original text also barred discrimination in family-related benefits “on the basis of the characteristics listed in §1.6” — redundant, since §1.6 already bars discrimination in the provision of any governmental benefit, the imposition of any burden, or the application of any law, without needing to name marriage specifically. It also protected the equal legal status of children born outside formal partnership, addressing a real historical pattern of legitimacy-based disadvantage, but tied to a characteristic §1.6 does not enumerate. On review this protection was found unnecessary and removed. §1.24 states only the substantive right: “Every person holds the right to found a family.” Naming the function rather than a specific legal mechanism means the right survives regardless of how the state structures family recognition in the future — unlike a narrower “right to marry,” it does not depend on any one institution remaining in place to remain meaningful. Counts move to 20 articles and 168 provisions.

The first systematic provision-by-provision review, run against the ten design principles rather than by inspection. Four changes resulted. §1.16 had been citing an adequacy standard “certified under §12.1” since it was drafted — but §12.1 contains no certification mechanism, no certifier, and no adequacy standard. The citation pointed at nothing. Both §1.16 and §1.17 now say plainly that the standard is established by statute, and both gain the same external check: the EM annually assesses whether the established standard actually satisfies the constitutional floor and publishes its assessment to the NRS. The ratchet protecting these levels was always rigorous on the downside — §12.5 requires Monetary Authority certification, EM audit, and automatic lapse — but the baseline being protected had no independent anchor at all. §1.13 permitted in camera proceedings with no ceiling and no eventual-disclosure requirement, failing the Sunlight Test that §10.2 satisfies properly for government records. Sealed portions now expire at 10 years from final judgment, extendable once by 5 years with published justification reviewed by the JM, absolute at 15 years, with automatic publication on expiry requiring no further government act. Because a criminal trial is the defendant's own, the ceilings are far shorter than §10.2's 25 and 30 years, and a consent clause — which §10.2 has no need for — lets the accused publish any sealed portion at any time, unless the court finds that publication would harm a third party the sealing was meant to protect. §9.5 gains a general delivery rule: every Monitor finding, report, and assessment is delivered on publication to the responsible officer and to the Speaker of each legislative chamber. The Monitors observe and report; they cannot compel, and the provision says so explicitly — delivery is a matter of record and imposes no obligation to act. Stating this once in Article IX rather than repeating it in every provision that generates a report keeps the rule in one home, and §9.5.a's narrower requirement — that a Fail obliges the responsible body to publish its own account — survives alongside it, since that is a response duty rather than a delivery rule.

The Preamble was also revised. It previously omitted three things the document actually establishes: the consent of the governed, the self-government of constituent communities, and the recognition of prior indigenous sovereignty under Article XVI. It now carries all three, along with an explicit enumeration of how public authority is restrained — independent courts, open government, democratic election, permanent public record, effective remedy — folded into the existing argument rather than listed separately, so the paragraph demonstrates its claim instead of merely asserting it. A new line states that these protections are made to hold “not only in times of wise government and public accord, but against error, abuse, emergency, and division.” The second-person address is preserved throughout, as is the closing invitation to read the document and adopt it. Counts remain 20 articles and 167 provisions; these are revisions to existing text, not additions.

§15.4 let a defined portion of a Territory merge into an existing State, and §15.5 let a defined subdivision separately achieve Statehood — but neither provision, nor anything else in Article XV, ever asked what happens to what's left behind. A Territory's most viable portion could depart entirely legally while stranding a remainder too small or too economically thin to ever plausibly become a State on its own, with no check, no audit, and no path forward specified anywhere in the document. §15.4 gains a real trigger it never had — a 25% signature petition of the affected portion's own eligible voters, NVS-authenticated — and a 30-day post-certification challenge window applying to every referendum under the section, closing an asymmetry where the ordinary case had less legal finality than a contested one. New §15.5.a requires the JMC to assess, before any vote is held, whether the remaining portion could realistically satisfy the §15.2 Statehood Audit on its own resources — publishing the finding so voters decide with full knowledge rather than discovering the consequence afterward. Where viable, the underlying process simply proceeds. Where not, the departure does not go to a vote at all: the Civic Consul convenes a Territory Convention of the Territory's own sitting Assembly members, given 90 days to propose a resolution; any resolution still requires ratification by the affected voters and still runs through whichever of §15.2 or §15.4's ordinary machinery applies. Failure to resolve is not silently punished or silently rewarded — the petition simply lapses, the Territory remains undivided, and the same geographic scope may not be re-attempted for three years, though a materially different scope is a new petition entering at the beginning, not a violation of the bar. The JMC's own assessment carries real deadlines rather than open-ended discretion: 90 days, one 30-day extension with published justification, and if even that lapses, a same-week individual vote among the three Monitors where any tie or full abstention defaults to the protective finding rather than to whichever result is administratively convenient. No outcome in this provision is ever forced past a genuine vote; where negotiation and process both fail, status quo — not coercion, not abandonment — is the constitutional floor.

A second pass the same day closed a gap the single-departure design didn't anticipate: what happens when more than one portion of the same Territory tries to leave at once, or in close succession, such that no single "remaining portion" is stable long enough to meaningfully assess. Rather than build new machinery to test every possible combination of simultaneous departures against each other, §15.5.a(1) now routes any two or more petitions affecting different portions of the same Territory, certified within 90 days of one another, directly to the Territory Convention — the tool already built for genuine complexity, rather than forcing a multi-way problem through a check designed for exactly one departure and one remainder. The individual JMC viability assessment is preserved unchanged for the ordinary single-petition case. Where a bundled Convention fails to produce a resolution, all petitions addressed together lapse together, and the Territory remains whole; the same three-year bar on re-attempting substantially the same geographic scope applies, with a materially different scope again free to enter as a new petition rather than a violation of the bar. Counts move to 20 articles and 167 provisions.

§1.7 had bundled two families of rights — medical autonomy and the privacy/search architecture — and the bundle concealed a defect: the home was protected twice under two different standards (§1.7 demanded specific, articulable grounds for searches; §1.8’s entry rule demanded authorization alone). The privacy content now lives where it belongs. §1.7 becomes Bodily Sovereignty, pure and single-subject: medical decisions, non-compulsion, and the lawful-where-received shield. §1.8 becomes Privacy, Property, and Security of the Home, consolidating the privacy right, a single unified consent-or-warrant rule covering home entry and all search, surveillance, and collection of persons, communications, and data, the statutory warrant framework, the encryption guarantee (condensed: “Encryption is lawful and may not be prohibited”), and takings. The digital-equivalence sentence was removed as redundant — one rule now textually governs the physical and digital alike, which enacts the equivalence rather than asserting it. The §6.2 cross-reference repointed. No renumbering; both provisions keep their anchors. Counts unchanged at 20 articles and 166 provisions. An archival footnote: an earlier draft era had split these as §1.7/§1.7.a before a later re-merge — the structure has now settled where that first instinct pointed.

The document gained a front door. For its entire development the Constitution opened directly onto Article I’s machinery with no statement of purpose — a reviewer noted, fairly, that it explained how at length while never saying why, and questioned whether a document this explanatory even needed a Supreme Court. Both observations traced to the same absence. The Preamble answers it: written in the voice of the founders presenting their work for adoption, it leads with the document’s core conviction — that the person comes before the state — frames the length as thoroughness rather than burden (“your freedom is detailed”), and names what distinguishes the Republic: most governments ask for your faith; this one gives you the means to withhold it. The machinery stays cold by design; the Preamble carries the purpose. Added ahead of Article I; the article and provision counts are unchanged at 20 and 166.

A new provision closing a gap surfaced while writing the Dual ExecutiveTwo separately selected executives with enumerated, non-overlapping domains — neither one is head of government alone. design-rationale paper: what happens when one executive's domain needs a capability held in the other's. Either Consul may now formally request that the other exercise authority within the other's domain; the request and response are both published to the NRS, and neither Consul may compel the other — preserving co-equality and the principle that restraint on the executive comes from outside the branch, never from the other executive. The channel carries only capability used in support of persons (logistics, transport, materiel, technical, medical, disaster, search-and-rescue), capped at 90 days per request. Capability used to compel, detain, or direct persons, to surveil or collect intelligence on persons within the Republic, or to commandeer civilian resources is excluded entirely and routes only through §1.19 — so two executives can never privately arrange what only the chambers may authorize. Added after an adversarial stress test hardened the initial draft against a domestic-surveillance loophole and an open-ended duration.

Closing a separation-of-powers gap: as a member of the Assembly, the Civic Consul could vote on a bill and then review it as the executive. A new §1.23 Separation of Branch Authority (Article I) now bars any person from exercising the voting or decisional authority of more than one branch at once, while permitting a non-voting accountability seat. The Civic Consul was rebuilt around it: on election the CC vacates their Assembly seat (the State fills it as a mid-term vacancy) and holds instead a non-voting ceremonial seat of the office — present to be held to account, but never voting on the legislation they review. Removal returns to an absolute-majority constructive vote of no confidenceThe Assembly can only remove a Civic Consul by naming their replacement in the same vote.; the office gains a real term (6 years consecutive, 8 cumulative lifetime, with a cooling-off period), so the confidence mechanism plus the term supply the stability that a higher removal threshold had been standing in for. The Speaker’s role as Acting Civic Consul was clarified to attach automatically to the standing office (resolving a threshold circularity), and the Assembly may now choose its Speaker by its own method above a majority floor. 164 provisions.

A new §7.4 Eligibility and Disclosure for Federal Office replaces the blanket felony bar with a transparency rule that applies to every federal office. Candidates — and persons selected or elevated to office without standing for election — must disclose their criminal history under penalty of perjury, published to the NRS; the weight of a disclosed history is for the voters, or the selecting body, to judge. No conviction bars a person from office except a narrow, exhaustive list that can only be changed by amendment: insurrection, rebellion, treason, or subversion of a federal election, and only on conviction rather than accusation. A person removed from office by an affirmative process — impeachment, for-cause removal, constructive no confidence, or recall — must sit out the remainder of the current electoral cycle and one full cycle thereafter before seeking that office again; ordinary term expiry and electoral loss are not removals. The 7-year citizenship requirement was removed from the Civic Consul (who is elected from and by the Assembly, making a second eligibility check incoherent) and retained for the Legat Consul (chosen by a different method, with a security function that justifies a citizenship floor). 165 provisions.

§2.16 Executive Incapacity (new) establishes a single mechanism for when either Consul is temporarily unable to exercise authority. Incapacity arises on NRS publication of either a declaration by the Consul or a determination by the Council of Ministers — by majority of members then in office, no fewer than five — expressly framed as a constitutional function of the Council, not an exercise of executive authority. Restoration is the Consul’s own act: the Consul publishes a restoration declaration, transmits it to the Speaker of each chamber, the other Consul, and the officer then holding acting authority, and full authority returns 24 hours after publication. No petition, no permission. The check against a Consul in denial is not a court but a brake: where the Council determines incapacity on the same or substantially similar grounds within 90 days of a restoration, the Consul may no longer self-restore and the accountability chamber decides. No incapacity may run past 90 days — at expiry it ends by constitutional operation unless a removal process under §2.6 or §2.13 has been initiated, so temporary incapacity cannot become removal at a lower threshold. A declination mechanism lets any person on whom acting authority would fall decline within 48 hours; declination is irrevocable, silence is acceptance, and the last person in the order may not decline.

§2.5(6) and §2.9(6) now vest acting authority in a defined order — chamber Speaker, then offices designated by statute, then the most senior member by continuous service — rather than resting solely on the Speaker. §2.9(3) requires the Legislature to establish that order by statute, with the constitutional floor applying until it does. The JMC’s role in assessing Legat Consul capacity is retired and unified under §2.16. §2.6.a(3) settles what an Acting Civic Consul may do with legislation: not the §2.7 suspensive veto, but a 10-business-day pause notice on which the Assembly may withdraw the bill by simple majority; a bill not withdrawn is enacted by operation of law. The pause is unavailable against the annual budget, bills implementing a constitutional obligation, and emergency legislation.

Succession eligibility. §2.1 stated the Legat Consul’s limit only as a description of the term — “a single non-renewable term of six years” — while declaring that no other eligibility requirement applies. It is now a bar on the person: no one who has served an elected term as Legat Consul may again hold the office or exercise its authority, a lifetime bar, with service as a successor under §2.9 expressly not counting as an elected term. New §7.4(8) gives that bar teeth everywhere at once: where this Constitution bars a person from holding an office, no election, succession, elevation, designation, or automatic assumption may place them in it or in an acting exercise of its authority, and any order of succession passes them over as if they were unable to serve. One rule closes the succession back-door for every office, present and future — and extends §7.4’s conviction and removal bars to succession paths.

§2.5(2) consolidated: the Civic Consul’s three interacting limits become a single 8-year lifetime maximum across all periods of service, with acting service excluded. The 6-year consecutive limit is retired — it was defeated by any brief resignation — and the cooling-off period’s 4-year threshold is removed, closing the resign-before-the-vote dodge it created. A person leaving the office now waits one full Assembly electoral cycle before serving again.

Reconciliation. A duplicate §7.1 “The Right to Vote” was retired — consolidated into §1.9 some time ago but never removed from the governing document. Its one casualty, the right “to have that vote counted,” is restored to §1.9. §4.4.a now cites §7.3 (Electoral Supermajority Threshold) rather than §7.2. §3.4 assessments are the Legislative Monitor’s, consistent with §9.1.b’s limits on the Executive Monitor’s mandate. §11.3 and §7.2.a wording corrected. Provisions: 166.