Balkinization  

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Do Corporations Enjoy a 2nd Amendment Right to Drones?

Frank Pasquale

An emerging, "solutionist" narrative about drones goes something like this:
Yes, we should be very worried about government misuse of drones at home and abroad. But the answer is not to ban, or even blame, the technology itself. Rather, we need to spread the technology among more people. Worried that the government will spy on you? Get your own drones to watch the watchers. Fearful of malevolent drones? Develop your own protective force. The answer is more technology, not regulation of particular technologies.
I'd like to believe that's true, if only because technology develops so quickly, and government seems paralyzed by comparison. But I think it's a naive position. It manages to understate both the threats posed by drones, and the governance challenges they precipitate.
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Sunday, September 27, 2009

To Whom is a Drone Loyal?

Mary L. Dudziak

In my west coast copy of the New York Times today, two stories are side-by-side: one on disagreements within the Obama Administration about Afghanistan, and one titled U.S. Drone Strikes Office of Sunni Party In Iraq’s North.” These stories are related, for the politics of war, necessarily at issue in presidential decisionmaking about Afghanistan, are affected by the technologies of warfare. Drones are a technological step that further isolates the American people from military action, undermining political checks on contemporary warfare. And the isolation of the people, historians of war have argued, helps enable on-going, endless war.

When contemplating the scope and limits of presidential war power, constitutional scholars tend to focus on the relationship between the branches and the impact of public opinion. But the existence of drones, the reliance on private contractors, and the absence of a draft are part of a shift in the political structure of American warfare, enabling presidential power.

The role of drones might cause us to believe that an inevitable march of technology, together with strategies of contemporary warfare, have led to the disconnect between most Americans and the wars their nation is engaged in. But military historian Adrien Lewis suggests that these developments were not at all inevitable, and that a fundamental shift in the political structure of American warmaking has occurred since Vietnam, resulting in an isolation of the people from their wars.

Continue reading below the fold.

Lewis makes this argument in The American Culture of War: The History of U.S. Military Force form World War II to Operation Iraqi Freedom (2007). For Lewis, a loosening of the ties between the people and their government’s use of force begins with the demise of the citizen-soldier after Vietnam. The turn to all-volunteer forces, and now mercenaries (private contractors), effectively removes the American people from war. Americans became “disconnected from the wars the United States was fighting.”

In reaction to opposition to the war in Vietnam, “the armed forces developed doctrines for war that endeavored to mitigate or eliminate the need for the support of the people. In short, they sought a way to fight a war that was not dependent on the will of the people.” This involved a greater reliance on air power rather than land forces, and an increasing use of high tech warfare.

Taking the American people out of war gave presidents “greater freedom to go to war, [and] the White House and the Pentagon greater freedom to fight wars as they saw fit.”

In Iraq and Afghanistan, American warfare is sometimes waged by machines. This raises questions about the morality of war, when an attack can occur with only one side’s mortality at risk. It also raises questions about political constraints on warfare. We need not peer into a future in which machines of warfare are more self-motivating than they already are. When, at another point on the globe, people are killed by an object that has its origins in the United States, but in its nature can owe allegiance to no one, we should ask where the people are in this war, and in their absence from the battle zone, how might they reassert their voice as a check on executive war power.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Incentives and Competition in Innovation Markets: A Study of the FAA UAS Test Sites Competition

Guest Blogger

Robert Heverly

For the Innovation Law Beyond IP 2 conference, March 28-29 at Yale Law School

The (commercial) drones are coming. Amazon wants to deliver packages with them, as does Google, and utilities want to monitor their infrastructure with them. Known more properly as Unmanned Aircraft Systems (UAS), the Federal Aviation Administration has proposed new rules to regulate commercial drone use, and states have passed laws in an attempt to protect privacy and prevent alleged misuse of the drones (for example, preventing hunting by UAS).

In 2012, Congress passed the Federal Aviation Administration Modernization and Reform Act (FMRA), in which it directed the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) to begin integrating Unmanned Aircraft Systems (UAS, or drones) into the national airspace. Section 332(c) required the FAA to designate six UAS national test ranges to allow testing to begin at those sites (without this authority, UAS cannot be used for commercial purposes without specific FAA authority). No funding was included in the test range designation; instead, UAS could fly at the ranges pursuant to a local, streamlined approval process, avoiding the otherwise relatively lengthy existing FAA procedure). Fifty applicants initially sought FAA authority to open test ranges, a number the FAA first reduced to 24 and finally to the six awardees (the FAA has since issued proposed rules for more general commercial UAS use, and even more recently approved use of certain UAS below 200 feet without significant restrictions).

The UAS industry is an innovative industry. We can contrast UAS with industries, such as manufacturing or even gambling facilities, that states may seek to entice to locate within their borders for purposes of encouraging economic development. Silicon Valley was not built by luring employers into the region. It was built – and succeeds – because of the benefits that innovation bring to the region (and it is so successful that there are now various “Silicon” and “Valley” themed regions throughout the world as others attempt to recreate Silicon Valley’s success).


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Wednesday, December 19, 2012

"If your Constitution is so good, how come you're sending drones against us?"

Mark Tushnet

That's a question asked of me at a session with trainees for the Pakistani civil service at their academy in Lahore, where I was over the past few days. The politics of the comment are of course interesting -- that the trainee felt licensed to ask the question, that I have no idea to what extent he [the trainees were about 4/1 male/female] was representative. For now, though, I'm interested in the perspective on the US Constitution reflected in the comment: that, because the Constitution is a template for justice, anything that's unjust must be inconsistent with the Constitution. Part of my response was that, though the drone strikes might be morally problematic (I should note that I'm quite "conservative" on this question, thinking that at the very least as between bombs and drones, drones are pretty clearly morally superior), the law dealing with the moral issues might be international law or international human rights law or the law of armed conflict, but not US constitutional law. I think there's a reasonably obvious connection between this point and the one Sandy Levinson's been urging -- that maybe we shouldn't be excoriating the Supreme Court's Heller decision, but the Second Amendment for removing important policy issues from ordinary political resolution. (Another post on conversations in Pakistan to follow.)

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Law lives through categories; technology disrupts categories

JB

A discussion about drones with my colleague Oona Hathaway led me to propose a simple way to think about technological change and legal interpretation: Law lives through categories, but technology disrupts categories.  The problem for lawyers--and many other people besides--is what to do when technological change disrupts the categories through which we understand the social and legal world.


Legal doctrines often take the form of differentiation and division into different situations--to which different legal norms and legal solutions apply.  Law divides the world into categories in order to specify which norms should apply in which situation.  Legal categories, in turn, are often premised on distinctions that rest on the way we understand the world to be, what is possible and what is not possible, what is costly and what is cheap, and so on.  Moreover, legal categories often reflect a balance of competing interests or principles; a balance that applies differently--for the most part--within each category.

Technological change disrupts our understanding of what is possible or impossible, what is relatively expensive or inexpensive. It makes possible or gives new incentives for activities that were either impossible or prohibitively costly. It introduces new combinations of properties or features that we hadn't imagined before. It brings new participants into systems and activities from which they had been previously excluded.  It changes the balance of principles that previously justified the categories we had chosen.

Each of these changes may confound existing legal categories. Then we must decide what values are more important, and that we really want to protect, in the context of changed conditions.  Categories often reflect a balance of considerations, and when we change our categories, we may have strike a new balance, which inevitably means giving up something-- often something that we would not rather have to give up.

As a result, it is difficult to say that we can simply preserve our existing values-- and the balance between conflicting values-- in the face of technological change. Rather, what change does is put values that people once imagined (correctly or not) were fairly well accommodated once again in conflict with each other. Technological change exacerbates the tensions between these values, and seems to demand from us a new accommodation, a new set of lines, and a new set of categories.  This demand appears as a demand from the outside-- i.e., from "technology"--but is really a demand from inside, from our moral imaginations.  Crafting a solution is difficult precisely because it disrupts existing settlements, compromises or ways of living. It may require us to sacrifice some values for others in a new set of contexts.  What technology does, in short is disrupt our moral sense of propriety, and force us to imagine a new sense of propriety.

Of course, to speak in terms of "technology" doing things is apt to be misleading.  "Technology" does not do things by itself. Its effects depend on the choices that people make, and the way that people apprehend, interpret, and make use of the possibilities opened up by technological change.  People experiment, imagine, and try out new uses for new tools. They organize to protect their (sometimes newly discovered) interests and agendas.

The military and civilian use of drones for example, or the interfaces through which we communicate digitally were not inevitable; they did not have to happen precisely as they have. Rather, people made choices that were opened up by technological change. They took advantage of new capacities and possibilities and created a new social reality.  When we say that technology disrupts law, what we really mean is that people, using the capacities and tools available to them, and using these tools to understand and imagine the world in new ways, have disrupted the social life and social norms around them.  The consequences for law may often be quite dramatic.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Life in a constitutional dictatorship (Again)

Sandy Levinson

It is time, alas, to reopen a new series of postings on the theme of how our constitutional dictatorship operates. It is now crystal clear that Obama does not represent a true repudiation of the Bush Administration, but, rather, a (somewhat) kindler and gentler version of its claims vis-a-vis presidential power and what is defined by the White House as "national security." James Fallows, in an excellent comment on the remarkable assertion that the War Powers Act is irrelevant because Libya doesn't constitute the kind of "hostilities" adverted to, writes that "[t]he central concern, and the major threat to our politics, is that once again we are going to war essentially on one person's say-so." He is correct, even if one grants full credit for Obama's having sought out acquiescent lawyers who turn out, however, not to be employed by the Office of Legal Counsel or the Department of Defense.

One also wonders who precisely has been making the decisions to go after "leakers." As Jane Mayer has noted, the Obama Administration has conducted more such prosecutions than all other administrations combined, which, by definition, includes the Bush Administration. Not to mention what the NYTimes has aptly described as "backward" steps with regard to surveillance authorization by the FBI. And is Robert Mueller really so "indispensable" that he should be given an extra two years (until after the election, note). I'm not necessarily a believer in hard-and-fast term limits, given that I've argued elsewhere that a real problem with the 22nd Amendment is that we can't "suspend" its operation in circumstances--during time of war, say,--when it's really stupid to evict a really talented Commander/Diplomat-in-Chief simply because it's two terms and out. But it should take something truly extraordinary, and I see no reason to think that such circumstances are currently present. Surely, the President could find someone capable of taking the helm at the FBI. Perhaps he fears that Republicans would simply refuse to confirm anyone. After all, another indispensable NYTimes article is tellingly titled "Nominees at Standstill as G.O.P. Flexes Its Muscle." Perhaps Peter Baker (see previous posting) should read his own newspaper before he waxes rhapsodic about our Madisonian system (but the 1787 Madison hated the idea of political parties).

Where, or where, is "the change we can believe in" regarding the "national surveillance" and "national security" states? Or, as Jack and I have argued, is the real message that deep structures of politics inevitably dominate the ephemera of different "leaders"?

Update: Garrett Epps has an excellent posting on his Atlantic site. He makes the valuable point that the Obama reading makes sense if and only if one assumes that the sole purpose was to protect American troops who might be placed in harms way. But if one believes that a second(ary) purpose was to prevent others from being the victims of harm at the unilateral decision of the President--and if, in addition, one might reasonably fear that adventures that being with, say, drones might end up escalating if it appers that we won't actually prevail with only drones (the latest fantasy of "victory through air power alone"), one might believe that sooner or later, the US will be faced with a decision either to "cut and run," with significantly adverse consequences, or to send the boots in on the ground, with other kinds of adverse consequences.

Wednesday, February 06, 2013

The Controversy over DOJ's Targeted Killing White Paper

Jonathan Hafetz

The media and blogosphere are abuzz over the release (via a leak) of DoJ's "white paper" outlining legal arguments used to support the targeted killing of a U.S. citizen in Yemen described as a "senior operational leader of al Qaeda or of an associated force." It is not difficult to see why. The white paper highlights the collision of a new technology that enables killing by remote control (drone warfare) and a novel concept of war itself, one waged increasingly away from "hot battlefields"--that is, the war formerly known as the Global War on Terror (GWOT). Both are highly controversial, and the subject of much uncertainty. Yet, rather than resolve questions, the white paper begs more.

The white paper's international law analysis is imprecise and confusing (perhaps, in places, deliberately so). It oscillates between two justifications for targeted killings: the use of military force against members of enemy forces during armed conflict and the use of force in self-defense (here, the paper cites, but does not quote, article 51 of the U.N. Charter). The paper is problematic on both fronts. As to the former, it assumes there is a global non-international armed conflict (NIAC) against al Qaeda and associated forces--a point contested by many international law scholars (see Kevin Jon Heller's indispensable posts here and here--and, contrary to the white paper, one not actually endorsed (not yet anyway) by the Supreme Court. Not only did Hamdan recognize only a non-international armed conflict with al Qaeda in Afghanistan, but the Supreme Court has historically been very cautious in addressing the government's claim that changing conceptions of war require expanded presidential powers (an argument pressed not only in Hamdan, Hamdi, and other GWOT cases, but also in Youngstown, Quirin, and other cases from more conventional armed conflicts where the government invoked the idea of "total war"). The paper also fails to engage with IHL rules on targeting civilians in NIAC, particularly with the requirement of direct participation in hostilities (likely because the government views it as too restrictive). As to self-defense, the white paper does not address how its elastic concept of "imminence" expands upon existing international-law definitions and understandings of the term.

The white paper's constitutional analysis is also problematic. The paper glosses over the lurking substantive due process question. I agree with the paper's conclusion that U.S. citizenship does not immunize an individual from the use of military force. That is the upshot of Quirin and Hamdi (while the former dealt with military trial and the latter with military detention, both support the argument that deadly force may potentially be used against citizens in time of war). Those cases (not to mention Milligan)also suggest, however, that the U.S. government cannot constitutionally kill a U.S. citizen under a law-of-war rationale unless that use of force comports with the law of war. Further, but importantly, the cases suggest that a statute (here, the 2001 Authorization for Use of Military Force (AUMF)) should not be construed as authorizing the use of deadly force against a constitutionally protected target unless that use of force is firmly grounded in the law of war. Note here Quirin and Hamdi's reference to clearly established and universally accepted law-of-war principles in finding the president's use of the military constitutional.

The paper does acknowledge that procedural due process can limit the president's authority to use military force against a U.S. citizen, citing Hamdi and its invocation of the Matthews v. Eldridge balancing test. But, as Steve Vladeck has pointed out, the paper ignores the prong of the test focused on the risk of error and the value of additional safeguards in minimizing that risk. The paper further concludes that judicial process is unwarranted.

As a recent report, The Civilian Impact of Drones: Unexamined Costs, Unanswered Questions, makes clear, the risk of error in drone attacks remains significant, despite technological improvements. But there is no judicial examination of the standards the government utilizes, even ex post. Nor is there any remedial structure in place--judicial or otherwise--for civilians harmed by drones in Pakistan, Somalia, and Yemen. Such a structure not only could provide some compensation to victims, but also could provide some check on the drone program and the process it employees in selecting targets and carrying out attacks.

But perhaps my biggest concern with the constitutional analysis is what the paper doesn't address. Because it concerns only the targeted killing of a U.S. citizen, it does not engage with the question of what, if any, constitutional protections are afforded non-citizens, who are the overwhelming target of drone strikes. What, if any, role does the Constitution play in limiting drone attacks against non-citizens? Presumably none. The U.S. has consistently resisted recognizing the Constitution's extraterritorial application to non-citizens. This means then that the white paper likely reflects the U.S. government's most robust interpretation of the constitutional limits of its targeted killing program. To the extent the Constitution serves as a constraint on drone strikes in a case like the one described in the white paper, that constraint would be absent from virtually every other scenario.

The complexity of the issues, the continuing concerns about the program's legality, and the absence of any judicial check, at minimum, demand greater transparency to allow for more informed public debate. This is particularly so given the nature of drone warfare, which is conducted largely in secret and which avoids the type of U.S. troop involvement that can cause the public to question the government's actions. (Greater transparency is thus critical to what Mary Dudziak describes here as the need for "a new form of war politics"). There is no legitimate basis for the Obama administration's refusal to release the white paper, which was never classified in the first place. (It should also release the legal reasoning in the underlying Office of Legal Counsel memo on which the paper is based). Indeed, one might think that President Obama--who has otherwise been so pragmatic in approaching national security issues--would be eager to release the legal basis for targeted killing since failing to do so suggests there is something to hide.



Monday, June 25, 2012

Automated Arrangement of Information: Speech, Conduct, and Power

Frank Pasquale



Tim Wu's opinion piece on speech and computers has attracted a lot of attention. Wu's position is a useful counterpoint to Eugene Volokh's sweeping claims about 1st Amendment protection for automated arrangements of information. However, neither Wu nor Volokh can cut the Gordian knot of digital freedom of expression with maxims like "search is speech" or "computers can't have free speech rights." Any court that respects extant doctrine, and the normative complexity of the new speech environment, will need to take nuanced positions on a case-by-case basis.

Digital Opinions

Wu states that "The argument that machines speak was first made in the context of Internet search," pointing to cases like Langdon v. Google, Kinderstart, and SearchKing. In each scenario, Google successfully argued to a federal district court that it could not be liable in tort for faulty or misleading results 1) because it "spoke" the offending arrangement of information and 2) the arrangement was Google's "opinion," and could not be proven factually wrong (a sine qua non for liability).
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Tuesday, February 09, 2016

The Emerging Law of Algorithms, Robots, and Predictive Analytics

Frank Pasquale

In 1897, Holmes famously pronounced, "For the rational study of the law the blackletter man may be the man of the present, but the man of the future is the man of statistics and the master of economics." He could scarcely envision at the time the rise of cost-benefit analysis, and comparative devaluation of legal process and non-economic values, in the administrative state. Nor could he have foreseen the surveillance-driven tools of today's predictive policing and homeland security apparatus. Nevertheless, I think Holmes's empiricism and pragmatism still animate dominant legal responses to new technologies. Three conferences this Spring show the importance of "statistics and economics" in future tools of social order, and the fundamental public values that must constrain those tools.

Tyranny of the Algorithm? Predictive Analytics & Human Rights

As the conference call states
Advances in information and communications technology and the “datafication” of broadening fields of human endeavor are generating unparalleled quantities and kinds of data about individual and group behavior, much of which is now being deployed to assess risk by governments worldwide. For example, law enforcement personnel are expected to prevent terrorism through data-informed policing aimed at curbing extremism before it expresses itself as violence. And police are deployed to predicted “hot spots” based on data related to past crime. Judges are turning to data-driven metrics to help them assess the risk that an individual will act violently and should be detained before trial. 
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Wednesday, June 28, 2017

That Syria War Power Debate, Continued

Deborah Pearlstein

Cross-posted at Opinio Juris

If, as I argued earlier this week, the 2001 AUMF passed by Congress cannot be read to authorize the growing set of U.S. military actions against Syrian and Iranian forces in Syria, does the President’s Article II power standing alone support these strikes? The best articulated argument I’ve seen that the President has the Article II power to attack Syrian aircraft (or Iranian drones or any non-ISIS force in Syria) in the interest of defending U.S.-allied Syrian government rebels goes something like this.  The President surely has Article II authority to act in defense of U.S. facilities and troops overseas without first waiting for congressional authorization, a necessary extension of the President’s power (on which there is near uniform agreement) to “repel sudden attacks.”  As relevant here, this authority should be understood to extend to the defense of certain organized third parties (whether a state like Britain or our allied non-state Syrian Democratic Forces) operating (as Bobby Chesney puts it) “in close coordination with the U.S. military in a combat setting.”  In such a situation, I take the idea to be, our interests are closely enough aligned and our military forces closely enough entangled, that an attack (or threatened attack) on a third party ally is effectively the same as an attack on us.

This ‘third party self-defense’ theory of the scope of Article II power is in one sense quite a bit narrower the currently prevailing position of the Justice Department Office of Legal Counsel – which, under President Obama, took the view that the President has constitutional authority to use military force on his own so long as an important U.S. interest was at stake, and so long as the quantum or nature of contemplated force didn’t actually amount to “war” within the meaning of the Constitution’s “declare war” clause.  Under this OLC view – based in part on OLC’s assessment of post-World War II presidential practice – one need not develop any specialized theory of third party self-defense to justify the use of executive power here; the current President could surely assert one of several U.S. concerns in Syria as the important interest at stake (say, protecting the  interest of regional stability), and so long as the strikes were limited in scope and duration (i.e. less than “war”), all of these actions could be said to fall within the scope of Article II, whether defense of battlefield allies was among the expressly named interests or not. 


Yet there are at least three ways in which this ‘third party defense’ notion may be said to go beyond even the broad 2011 OLC conception of presidential power: (1) I am not aware of any previous practice in which the President has asserted the particular national interest of defending battlefield allies as such as a justification for authorizing the use of force abroad.  Now it is surely one of the difficulties with the 2011 OLC opinion that it leaves so open-ended the question of what counts as an national interest sufficiently important for the President to use force, but if we are to take seriously the notion that past practice matters here, it would seem important to identify some at least analogous illustration on which to rely. (2) To the extent past examples of “important” national interests matter, the case for using force to protect a zone in a foreign country within which our own military might train opposition forces strikes me as vastly less impressive than the interest in, say, ridding the world of the scourge of chemical weapons.  Indeed, the “de-confliction” zone we are now using force to protect is just over the border from a country (Iraq) in which we have every right (thanks to that nation’s consent) to be operating militarily and, presumably, training anti-ISIL forces all we like.  

Above all, (3) in the 2011 Libya strike (and almost all previous post-World War II executive operations), unilateral executive uses of force abroad were taken in concert with UN authorities.  For reasons I alluded to briefly in my previous post, both our downing of the Syrian jet and the recent U.S. strikes to preserve its non-state allies’ right to operate in the “de-confliction” zone appear to be in violation of the UN Charter (a treaty we are obligated to observe as supreme law of the land under our own Constitution’s Article VI).  Whether one considers that an Article II problem, an Article VI problem, or simply a violation of international law – the United States’ legal position here is as precarious as it gets.   

Friday, November 25, 2011

A Growing 'Civilian-Military' Gap, and its Consequences

Mary L. Dudziak

"A smaller share of Americans currently serve in the U.S. Armed Forces than at any time since the peace-time era between World Wars I and II," according to a new report from the Pew Research Center (hat tip New York Times).

During the past decade, as the military has been engaged in the longest period of sustained conflict in the nation’s history, just one-half of one percent of American adults has served on active duty at any given time.1 As the size of the military shrinks, the connections between military personnel and the broader civilian population appear to be growing more distant.
 The data reveals is "a large generation gap." According to the report, "more than three-quarters (77%) of adults ages 50 and older said they had an immediate family member –a spouse, parent, sibling or child – who had served in the military."  In contrast, for people under 50, "57% of those ages 30-49 say they have an immediate family member who served. And among those ages 18-29, the share is only one-third."

Military service is now more concentrated in certain families:  "Veterans are more than twice as likely as members of the general public to say they have a son or daughter who has served (21% vs. 9%)."  And overall, what the report calls a "military-civilian gap" is more pronounced among younger people. 
This suggests that the gap between veterans and the general public in the share that has family connections to the military may be a relatively new phenomenon. With the shrinking size of the military in recent decades there are now fewer connections between the military and the civilian world. This is reflected in the relatively small share of young adults (39%) with an immediate family member who has served in the armed forces.
The Pew report suggests that various political opinions are correlated with connections to family members who have served in the military, but there are deeper implications of the disconnect between Americans and American war-making.  The more distant and isolated Americans are from their nation's wars, the less they are politically engaged with American war policy.

Legal scholars argue on this blog and elsewhere that the tendency of presidents to initiate military action without congressional authorization can only be reined in if Congress insists on playing its constitutional role.  But Congress will never play a more meaningful role in American war politics if the people aren't engaged.  The Pew Report helps us to see what appears to be a growing distance from the costs of war, potentially reinforcing contemporary political disengagement.

In my new book,  War Time:  An Idea, Its History, Its Consequences, I take up this point in the Conclusion:
In Iraq and Afghanistan, war...spread across borders as American drones fired on targets in Pakistan and elsewhere.  Death and destruction were the province of soldiers and of peoples in faraway lands.  The experience of wartime for most Americans largely devolved to encounters between travelers and airport screeners, as the Transportation Security Administration adopted intrusive new practices.  At home, wartime had become a policy rather than a state of existence....

As war goes on, Americans have lapsed into a new kind of peacetime.  It is not a time without war, but instead a time in which war does not bother everyday Americans.
I argue that keeping the war powers in check requires a politics of war, and that requires a citizenry attentive to the exercise of military power.  Our ideas about "wartime" play a role in the current disconnect, as a cultural framing of wartimes as discrete and temporary occasions, destined to give way to a state of normality, undermines democratic vigilance over on-going wars.

As Americans become more isolated from the costs of war, military engagement no longer seems to require the support of the American people.  Their disengagement does not limit the reach of American military action, but enables its expansion.

Cross-posted from War Time.

Monday, December 12, 2011

"A Permanent State of Remote War"

Mary L. Dudziak

William J. Astore, retired lieutenant colonel (USAF), has a post today on the remoteness of American wars from the American people:
America’s wars are remote.  They’re remote from us geographically, remote from us emotionally (unless you’re serving in the military or have a close relative or friend who serves), and remote from our major media outlets, which have given us no compelling narrative about them, except that they’re being fought by “America’s heroes” against foreign terrorists and evil-doers.  They’re even being fought, in significant part, by remote control—by robotic drones “piloted” by ground-based operators from a secret network of bases located hundreds, if not thousands, of miles from the danger of the battlefield.

Their remoteness, which breeds detachment if not complacency at home, is no accident.  Indeed, it’s a product of the fact that Afghanistan and Iraq were wars of choice, not wars of necessity.  It’s a product of the fact that we’ve chosen to create a “warrior” or “war fighter” caste in this country, which we send with few concerns and fewer qualms to prosecute Washington’s foreign wars of choice.
Astore goes on to argue that  wars of choice have led to "a state of permanent remote war" that "has weakened our military, drained our treasury, and eroded our rights and freedoms."

The engagement of the people with a nation's wars has been central to ideas about warfare.  War theorist Carl von Clausewitz wrote of the people as both an engine and a restraint on warfare.  Clausewitz's "wonderful trinity," describes the nature of war as "composed of the original violence of its elements, hatred and animosity, which may be looked upon as blind instinct; of the play of probabilities and chance, which make it a free activity of the soul; and of the subordinate nature of a political instrument, by which it belongs purely to the reason."  The trinity is often reduced to those Clausewitz thought to embody these elements:  the people, the military, and the government.

The emotional element of war, centered in the people, can help motivate a nation to warfare.  But the people can also rein in warfare.  When the costs of war are too great, the people are thought to lose their will to fight, hampering the nation's ability to pursue war.

But what happens if the people are never in engaged in a war in the first place? This where Astore's point is so important.  The remoteness of the American people from American wars, he argues, enables the nation's wars of choice.  The absence of the people -- the embodiment of the emotional element Clausewitz thought was a central feature of warfare -- means that the people do not tire of the costs of war.  The people's remoteness and isolation from war undermines their traditional role as a restraint.

Astore writes: 
As Admiral Mike Mullen, former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, put it recently to Time:  “Long term, if the military drifts away from its people in this country, that is a catastrophic outcome we as a country can't tolerate.”
One of the consequences of this development appears to be our current "permanent state of remote war."

Cross-posted from War Time.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Sleepwalking

Sandy Levinson


I am close to finishing a truly great (and thoroughly depressing) book, The Sleepwalkers: How Europe Went to War in 1914, by Cambridge (England) historian Christopher Clark.  It portrays how a group of decisionmakers from many different countries chose actions that eventuated in the true catastrophe of 1914-1918 (which led quite directly to the even greater catastrophe of 1939-45).  No one "chose" World War I, of course; most of them believed that a show of force would lead to a relatively quick victory.  They were wrong.

I discovered a few moments ago that I'm in the 30% of the people responding to a Washington Post poll (obviously scientifically unreliable) who think the Administration is correct in not cutting off military aid to the dreadful people now running Egypt.  Listening to stories about what happened in Cairo yesterday is wrenching, and Obama was surely correct in cancelling the joint military exercises with Egypt.  If he can cancel the meeting with Putin (which I also oppose) because of the relatively minor Snowden episode (there is, obviously, no extradition treaty with Russia, and there is a millennium-long tradition of offering political asylum to political refugees), then, obviously, the military exercises had to go.  But cutting off the $1.5 billion of aid, however satisfying as a statement--but about what, the savagery of the repression yesterday, or the decision to displace the elected president who was himself proving to be a disaster on a variety of grounds?--could well threaten a variety of American and world interest.  Think of Donald Rumsfeld and "known unknown" as well as the more dangerous "unknown unknowns."  What might happen if we cut aid off?  Perhaps the military would be tempted to renounce the peace treaty with Israel; indeed, that treaty is a major explanation of the aid in the first place.  Perhaps more serious, as a threat to American interests, would be a decision to cut off trade through the Suez Canal.  Or perhaps that would happen simply through the dissolution of the Egyptian State.  Are we prepared to send in American troops on the ground--I'm afraid drones will prove completely irrelevant--to capture the Canal?  Israel, France, and the UK tried that in 1956, and Ike, to his eternal credit, realized that was a truly terrible idea. 

I also find myself supporting the Administration's waffling in Syria.  Does anyone really believe that the US has a magic wand it can wave to make things come out all right in that country?  I initially supported Obama back in 2008 because I had more faith in his judgment than in then-Senator Clinton's.  I share many of the disappointments with Obama.  I'm afraid he has reinforced my view that we ultimately should junk the presidential system in favor of a parliamentary one that would produce not only less gridlock but more capable and experienced national leaders.  But I really don't know what beyond sheer hopefulness--similar to what was expressed in a number of embassies in July 1914--supports the call that he be more "decisive" and use American power to "intervene" in the really terrible situations in both Syria and Egypt.  How much of a more general conflagration do we want to risk?  (And, yes, I support his waffling on Iran.)  Should we really "sleepwalk" into a general Middle East War as the self-proclaimed "indispensable nation"? 

Thursday, March 07, 2013

Sitting at a cafe in Houston...

Mark Tushnet

I've finally been driven bonkers by the quality of the discussion on the left about drone use against US citizens within the United States. OF COURSE it's constitutionally permissible for executive officials to take actions against a US citizen on US soil that either (a) predictably will lead to the citizen's death or (b) are intended to kill the citizen. (Drones are completely irrelevant to the constitutional question. Snipers using rifles raise the same question. And, in this post I'm talking only about the Constitution; there are statutory limitations on who can do the killing -- for example, not the CIA -- but I'm not going to deal with them.) The only interesting questions, and they aren't all that interesting, deal with when it's constitutionally permissible to do so -- and, secondarily, with what processes do the officials have to go through before they take the action.

Start with a simple example where we know that executive officials can do (a) or (b). Two FBI agents just happen to be outside a bank when they see a couple of guys rush out of the bank with guns and sacks of money, and jump into a car. Believing that they've just observed a bank robbery, the FBI agents pursue the two guys. Ask them later what they were doing, they'll say, "Trying to catch a couple of robbers." In the course of the pursuit, and still trying to catch them, they shoot out the escape car's tires -- in circumstances where it's really likely that the result will be a crash in which the (suspected) robbers will die. (That's case [a] above.) Does anybody really think that they can try to shoot out the tires only if they manage to call a judge and get authorization as the chase is going on? Or that, if they can't shoot out the tires without being sure that the (suspected) robbers will survive, they have to let the robbers get away?

Now, for case (b): The escape car is weaving in and out of heavy traffic, and the crashes it's causing are beginning to pile up, with lots of people being injured and some possibly dying (although the FBI agents can't be sure about that). To stop the carnage, the agents shoot out the escape car's tires, with only the faintest of hopes that the car's occupants will survive -- and, in fact, if you asked them later, they'll say, "We didn't care whether the robbers lived or died, we just want to stop them." Although some philosophers might quibble, I think we ought to say that, under those circumstances, they intended that the robbers die -- that is, they intended to kill them. (And, frankly, I don't think the philosophical quibbles have any real bearing on the drone/terrorist cases that people are exercised about. In the cases I'll describe, the executive officials either want to capture the suspected terrorists but expect that in the effort to do so the terrorists will die, or are indifferent to whether the terrorists live or die.)

The scenarios I've described have two characteristics: (1) The FBI agents have a high degree of confidence in the information they're acting on even though that information hasn't been evaluated by a judge -- or even, in the scenarios, by a supervisor in the FBI field office. But, a high degree of confidence isn't certainty -- maybe they've interrupted a staged scene for a movie, or some sort of weird prank. (2) There's a high degree of temporal urgency to taking action, so consultation with a judge is as a practical matter impossible. What's needed to support the OF COURSE answer are parallel characteristics in the terrorism case.

So, suppose the FBI has been conducting authorized surveillance (processed through a judge) on a domestic terrorist of the Terry Nichols sort. They've gathered a fair amount of information that leads them to suspect, with some confidence, that he's planning a terrorist bombing, but the quality of the information isn't quite good enough for them to be able to arrest him and be confident that prosecutors could secure a conviction. So, they're waiting for the last bits of information to come in. Unfortunately, they accidentally lose track of the suspect for a full day. Then they get a phone call from someone they relied on when they went to the judge for permission to wiretap, etc., who tells them that the guy's on the road right now in a van loaded with explosives, within thirty minutes of arriving at his target. The informant tells them the suspect's route and the intended target. That's enough to justify arresting the guy, but thirty minutes isn't enough time to lay the case out to a judge. So FBI agents do what they can to stop -- and arrest -- him. They might put up a roadblock on the route. If the suspected terrorist tries to run the roadblock, though, there's a very high chance that the van will blow up and the suspect will die (case [a] again). But, suppose there's no time to put up a roadblock, but there's time to put a sniper at the target site. As the van approaches the target, the sniper shoots the van driver. Again, I'm quite confident that the sniper and the FBI haven't violated the driver's constitutional rights -- even though, once again, there's some chance that the information they're acting on is wrong.

So, why hasn't the Obama administration said what I just did? Well, first of all, I think it has, when you put together all the statements they've made. They've talked about imminence, for example, in ways that make it clear that they're defining imminence in relation to the ability to arrest (or capture, when dealing with questions about terrorists outside the United States). Second, the more sophisticated critics have said they their primary concern is transparency, that they don't know the circumstances under which the administration believes it wouldn't violate the Constitution to target a US citizen on US soil. But, I doubt that the administration could fairly say more than something like this: "We think we can target people after we've done our damnedest to assure ourselves that the targets do in fact pose an imminent threat to domestic security, and when we've done the best we can to rule out the possibility that we can stop them by arresting them in circumstances where there's a relatively low probability of doing so safely." Ask for more than that, and all you'll get is, "Circumstances vary so much that we can't say anything more precise."

I'm allowing comments, and will update/respond if people point out problems with or gaps in what I've written.

Tuesday, February 05, 2013

Why the legal issues in the White Paper are not the most important issues, and how Jack Goldsmith gets it right

Mary L. Dudziak

The leak of a White Paper on targeting killings is getting the expected attention from law bloggers and others, with much commentary focused on whether the legal analysis is correct – for example the definition of “imminence.”  The precise legal analysis is a distraction from more compelling issues, which are taken up by Jack Goldsmith in a Washington Post op-ed.  I often disagree with Goldsmith, but this time I find myself in agreement.  In part.   

Goldsmith begins:  “A decade of war is now ending,” President Obama proclaimed in his second inaugural address. But war is not ending, it is changing — and has been for years.  Obama has cut back on heavy-footprint, conventional-force war in two countries. At the same time, he has presided over the rise of a secret, nimbler war defined by covert action, Special Forces, drone surveillance and targeting, cyberattacks and other stealthy means deployed in many countries.”

The character of ongoing war, largely off the American political radar screen, has been the focus of scholarly attention across fields.  Ongoing secret war is an extension of ongoing small wars – justified for many years by the Cold War-era national security policy that American safety at home could only be protected by the projection of American military force around the world (NSC 68). 

Goldsmith is right, unfortunately, that the president is arguing that war is coming to an end, while at the same time he continues it.  (A point also made here.)  He continues:
This new form of warfare needs a firmer political and legal foundation....Because secret surveillance and targeted strikes, rather than U.S. military detention, are central to the new warfare, there are no viable plaintiffs to test the government’s authorities in court. In short, executive-branch decisions since 2001 have led the nation to a new type of war against new enemies on a new battlefield without focused national debate, deliberate congressional approval or real judicial review.
Although Goldsmith is right that the character of war has changed, his solution is disappointingly conventional: “What the government needs is a new framework statute — akin to the National Security Act of 1947, or the series of intelligence reforms made after Watergate, or even the 2001 authorization of force — to define the scope of the new war, the authorities and limitations on presidential power, and forms of review of the president’s actions.”  This is where I disagree.  Something more fundamental is in order.

The nation most needs robust political engagement with American military policy, something we have not had in a sustained way since the war in Vietnam.  Americans debated the war in Vietnam, and ultimately countless numbers took to the streets.  Congress fiercely debated war appropriations.  Elections were affected, as candidates gained or lost in the polls based on their position on Vietnam.

Deep public engagement with Vietnam was tied in large part to the fact that the costs of war came home to American families because of the draft.  In the years since, the all-volunteer armed forces are one factor among others to isolate many Americans from war.  (The other most important issues are privatization/contracting, and changes in war technologies.)  A 2011 Pew Research Center report found that "A smaller share of Americans currently serve in the U.S. Armed Forces than at any time since the peace-time era between World Wars I and II."  The data reveals  "a large generation gap,"with "more than three-quarters (77%) of adults ages 50 and older...[having] an immediate family member –a spouse, parent, sibling or child – who had served in the military."  In contrast, for people under 50, "57% of those ages 30-49 say they have an immediate family member who served. And among those ages 18-29, the share is only one-third."

In recent years, I’ve noted elsewhere,   
In Iraq and Afghanistan, war...spread across borders as American drones fired on targets in Pakistan and elsewhere.  Death and destruction were the province of soldiers and of peoples in faraway lands.  The experience of wartime for most Americans largely devolved to encounters between travelers and airport screeners, as the Transportation Security Administration adopted intrusive new practices.  At home, wartime had become a policy rather than a state of existence.
The only enduring limit on the use of force comes from an informed and engaged citizenry.  The most troubling aspect of an era of secret warfare is that its very “secret, nimbler” character makes it easier to ignore, and thereby harder for democratic limits to function.

More essential than a new framework statute, we need a form of war politics.  An essential but inadequate step is transparency, so that Americans have the capacity to know what their nation is doing.  More difficult but more essential, we must find a way to care about the nation’s most fearsome power, which is now exercised without our even noticing.  Whether the American people can become engaged again without a draft or forces on the ground is something I can’t answer.  But finding a path toward political engagement is more important now that, for Americans, the experience of war has become so easy, and so forgettable.

Friday, August 22, 2014

Is life "priceless"?

Sandy Levinson


In a recent article in the Washington Post about whether the U.S. should pay ransom, in the context of the savage killing of James Foley, Adam Taylor writes, "It wasn't about figures. $100 million is a lot of money, but a life is priceless."  I must say that my first thought when I read this was that the central lesson of my first-year torts course at Stanford almost 45 years ago--which I consider the best course I've ever had, on any subject, anywhere (taught by Marc Franklin)--brought home the point that this statement is simply and utterly wrong.  The legal system prices human lives all the time; that is, among other things, what insurance policies are about, and, of course, the essence of tort law is to monetize the costs of what from a social perspective are completely foreseeable accidents.  We know, when we decide to build skyscrapers or major bridges, etc., that people are going to die.  Ditto, incidentally, with regard to raising speed limits on automobiles or continuing to allow the sale of alcohol in bars, etc., etc.  To be sure, we don't know exactly who is going to die, and that makes all the difference, just as Barack Obama doesn't know exactly whom he is sentencing to death when deploying troops or allowing the use of drones that will generate "collateral damage."  For many, that non-specificity makes all the difference.  Once we are presented with the picture of Mr. Foley, whose life could have been saved by the payment of a ransom, he becomes the "child in the well," where society spends an excess of funds to rescue the tot instead of spending the same money more wisely to save many more "statistical lives' unattached to particular faces.  And, of course, the difference between Mr. Foley and the child in the well is that we don't believe that rescuing the child will in fact create incentives for further children to fall down wells, whereas payment of ransom to thugs in fact does generate extremely bad incentives.  There is absolutely no excuse for what was done to Mr. Foley, but perhaps we have to treat war journalilsts the way we treat soldiers:  i.e., they voluntarily enlisted in a very dangerous occupation, for a mixture of reasons, including patriotism and devotion to the public weal, but part of the deal is that their lives will be on the line, to be protected only at "acceptable" cost.

Even if it is true that most of us consider our own lives "priceless," no society has ever operated on that basis, and none ever will.  

Monday, September 09, 2013

Three Years in Law School are Barely Enough!

Bruce Ackerman


               The debate over the two year law school has largely been conducted as a dollars-and-cents issue, emphasizing the economic burdens imposed – especially on the extraordinary burdens imposed on students coming from low and middle class backgrounds. These raise serious issues, but it is a mistake to detach them from a debate over the ultimate objectives of legal education in the twenty-first century.
                In my recent op-ed in the Washington Post, I suggest that a two-year curriculum will effectively require law schools to repudiate the past 75 years of mainline efforts to prepare American lawyers for a constructive engagement with the activist regulatory state. This is a tradition that  begins with the sociological jurisprudence of Frankfurter and Pound, as well as the legal realism of the (later) Llewellyn and Moore, continues  through the Legal Process tradition of Hart and Sachs, which then sets the stage for  the last generation’s efforts by Calabresi,  Dworkin, Michelman,  Posner and many others to rethink the foundations of legal analysis in the regulatory state. (For my own take on this intergenerational enterprise, see my Reconstructing American Law, or the shorter version published in the Yale Law Journal as Law in An Activist State.)
                To sustain this tradition in the twenty-first century, America’s law schools must train their students in the use and abuse of statistics, economics, and other social sciences or face increasing irrelevance in the formulation and implementation of public policy. The challenge is to integrate these technocratic skills into an historically informed, and philosophically sophisticated, understanding of the legal tradition. Otherwise, the profession will be pushed to the sidelines in an increasingly technocratic age.
                Such an education requires a full three years of study.  It is too easy to deflect this point by claiming that most lawyers will not require such training, since they will be engaged in more humdrum professional activities. First, consider that these skills will increasingly be required by city councilman and leaders of state and local agencies, not only lawyers engaged in high-powered practice in Washington or Wall Street.  Even more important, it is simply impossible to determine which law students will take on leadership roles in the next generation.  Many lawyers from “elite” law schools will turn out to be drones; many  from “second” or “third” tier places will turn out to be leaders.  A two year curriculum promises to lobomotize the profession by 2050.
                To be sure,  law schools are only gradually facing  up to the task of designing a three year curriculum adequate to the twenty-first century.  But the real challenge is to engage in serious curricular reform, not to make it impossible by eliminating the third year.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

The Framers, Democracy, and the Demagogue, Part One

Guest Blogger

Michael Klarman

For the Symposium on Michael Klarman, The Framers' Coup: The Making of the United States Constitution.
            

            The delegates assembled at the Philadelphia convention in May of 1787 mostly agreed with the assessment of Governor Edmund Randolph of Virginia when he introduced the plan that would become the convention’s working outline (the “Virginia Plan,” mostly written by James Madison): “Our chief danger arises from the democratic parts of our constitutions,” and none of the state constitutions had “provided sufficient checks against the democracy.”        

            Much of the Framers’ disdain for democracy derived from their hostility to the populist economic policies that a majority of states had enacted in the mid-1780s in response to a severe economic contraction—principally, paper money laws and debtor relief legislation. The Framers overwhelmingly regarded such laws as craven capitulations by overly responsive state legislatures to the illegitimate demands of lazy and dissolute farmers. Such legislation was “wicked and fraudulent”; it “corrupted the morals of the people”; and it enabled “idle spendthrifts [and] dissipating drones of the community” to live “upon the sweat of their neighbors’ brows.”

            Governor William Livingston of New Jersey (who later represented his state at the Philadelphia convention) responded to demands for debt and tax relief by pillorying the “lazy, lounging, lubberly” fellows who sat around drinking, “working perhaps but two days in the week and receiving for that work double the wages [they] earn and spending the rest of [their] time in squandering those . . . non-earnings in riot and debauch,” and yet dared to complain “when the collector calls for his tax of the hardness of the times.” The farmer who protested that he could not pay taxes was “a man whose three daughters are under the discipline of a French dancing master when they ought every one of them to be at the spinning wheel,” and while they should be “dressed in decent homespun, as were their frugal grandmothers, now carry half of their father’s crop upon their backs.” (Think Mitt Romney and the “47 percent . . . who are dependent on government, who believe that they are victims, . . . who pay no income tax . . . [and] should take personal responsibility . . . for their lives.”)

            Elite statesmen of the 1780s blamed tax and debt relief legislation on overly democratic state constitutions. Charles Lee of Virginia told George Washington that unless state legislatures could be reconstructed to make them “more powerful and independent of the people, the public debts and even private debts will in my opinion be extinguished by [them].” Reflecting on state relief measures, William Grayson (also of Virginia) concluded that “however excellent democratical governments may be in some respects, the payment of money and the preservation of the public faith are not among their good qualifications.”

            At least as alarming to the Framers were events in Massachusetts, where the legislature’s refusal to provide tax or debt relief to farmers provoked Shays’s Rebellion, during which armed protestors shut down civil courts in several counties in 1786–87. The nation’s propertied elite were even more distressed when, after an army raised by eastern Massachusetts creditors had forcibly suppressed the rebellion, the Shaysites sought (as one of their critics observed) to win “the same objects by legislation, which their more manly brethren last winter would have procured by arms.”
 
            An incredulous Madison reported, “We understand that the discontents in Massachusetts which lately produced an appeal to the sword are now producing a trial of strength in the field of electioneering,” and if they could “muster sufficient numbers, their wicked measures are to be sheltered under the forms of the constitution.” After the insurgent relief seekers scored victories in gubernatorial and legislative contests in the spring of 1787, Madison told James Monroe that the Massachusetts election had “shifted the legislative power into the hands of the discontented party, and it is much feared that a grievous abuse of it will characterize the new administration.”

            Governor John Hancock, propelled into office by that discontent, promptly pardoned most of the insurgents, including Daniel Shays. The new legislature dramatically reduced taxes and repealed an earlier law punishing insurgents with disfranchisement and exclusion from office. Washington’s private secretary, Tobias Lear, asked General Benjamin Lincoln, who had led the army that suppressed the rebellion: “What frenzy can have seized upon the people of your state [Massachusetts] to induce them to aim at an establishment of those principles by law, which, but a few days ago, they were opposing by arms?” Lear feared that unless “some measures are pointed out and adopted to give security to property,” the United States was verging “fast towards a point which may . . . involve us in a civil war with all its terrible consequences.”

            Shays’s Rebellion played a critical role in the creation of the Constitution. Investigating the rebellion for the Confederation Congress, Secretary at War Henry Knox wrote to George Washington, “The commotions of Massachusetts have wrought prodigious changes in the minds of men in that state respecting the powers of government. Everybody says they must be strengthened and that unless this shall be effected, there is no security for liberty or property.” Virginia congressional delegate Henry Lee wrote Washington, “The period seems to be fast approaching when the people of these United States must determine to establish a permanent capable government or submit to the horrors of anarchy and licentiousness,” as “[w]eak and feeble governments are not adequate to resist such high handed offenses.”   

            Rufus King, a Massachusetts delegate to the Philadelphia convention, announced that Shays’s Rebellion had taught him that “the great body of the people are without virtue and are not governed by any internal restraints of conscience.”  He was therefore reconsidering his prior advocacy of “government free as air,” which had been based on the mistaken belief that his “countrymen were virtuous, enlightened, and governed by a sense of right and wrong.”  It was Shays’s Rebellion that led Massachusetts delegate Elbridge Gerry to declare to the Philadelphia convention that the people of New England had “the wildest ideas of government in the world,” and Alexander Hamilton to note “the amazing violence and turbulence of the democratic spirit.”

            Because the Framers blamed relief legislation on “democratic licentiousness,” they designed the federal government to be insulated from the populist politics that had produced such measures in the states. Thus, they opted for enormous districts for congressional representatives—the Constitution provides for sixty-five members for the first House, compared, for example, to over three hundred representatives in the lower house of the Massachusetts legislature—and for indirect elections and lengthy terms in office for both senators and presidents. The U.S. Senate was expressly designed to be “the aristocratic part of our government,” to “represent the wealth of the country,” and to bear “as strong a likeness to the British House of Lords as possible.” The Framers also rejected, for federal legislators, instruction, recall, and mandatory rotation in office. In addition, they created a powerful executive armed with a veto power that could be used to block any populist economic measures that might somehow sneak through a legislature designed to squelch them. To the extent that the Framers were thinking about judicial review at all, they mostly conceived of it as another potential check on such relief legislation.

            As I was working on The Framers’ Coup (from roughly the summer of 2012 through January of 2016), I found troubling the extent of the Framers’ elitist disdain for populist politics.  While Virginian Henry Lee complained to Washington that “the malcontents” (the Shaysites) had as “their object . . . the abolition of debts [and] the division of property,” the debtor farmers actually had strong arguments for the relief programs they demanded in the mid-1780s. In a time of severe economic distress, they were being forced to pay heavy and regressive taxes in scarce hard currency in order to pay off government securities that had been scooped up (sometimes from them) at a fraction of par value by speculators who now stood to make a financial killing.  Relief measures had been necessary, according to one opponent of the Constitution’s ratification in North Carolina “to save vast numbers of people from ruin.” That perspective was one for which most of the delegates to the Philadelphia convention had little sympathy.

            Political developments since I finished the book, however, have cast a more favorable light upon the Framers’ deeply skeptical view of populist politics. The Framers worried not only that the People would redistribute wealth if left unchecked but also that they were simply too ignorant and vulnerable to deception to exercise responsible influence upon their government. At the Philadelphia convention, Virginia delegate George Mason declared that “it would be as unnatural to refer the choice of a proper character for chief magistrate [i.e., the president] to the people, as it would be to refer a trial of colors to a blind man.” The People could not possibly possess “the requisite capacity to judge of the respective pretensions of the candidates.” (Incidentally, another concern of the Framers with regard to presidential selection was, as Madison stated in Philadelphia, that “[m]inisters of foreign powers” would seek to influence the selection of the president. Pierce Butler of South Carolina seconded Madison’s concern, noting that the two great evils to be avoided in selecting the chief executive were “cabal at home and influence from abroad.”) 

            Elbridge Gerry, who had been especially shaken by Shays’s Rebellion, opposed even direct election of congressional representatives on the grounds that the People were “the dupes of pretended patriots” and were “daily misled into the most baneful measures and opinions by the false reports circulated by designing men.” George Mason told the convention that the chief evils of republican government were “the majority oppressing the minority, and the mischievous influence of demagogues.”

[Part Two of this Essay appears tomorrow]

Michael J. Klarman is Kirkland & Ellis Professor at Harvard Law School and author of The Framers’ Coup: The Making of the United States Constitution (Oxford University Press 2016).

Sunday, October 09, 2011

On the Presidential Assassination of American Citizens

Guest Blogger

Bruce Ackerman

It’s important to distinguish between two issues raised by the drone attack that killed Anwar Al Awlaki – the American citizen/ Moslem cleric who gained notoriety by his jihadist sermonizing over the internet. So far, the focus has been on the president’s legal authority to order drone strikes in Yemen and other places far removed from the battlefields of Afghanistan/Pakistan and Iraq. This is the subject of an OLC memo, which President Obama unaccountably refuses to make public (in a suitably redacted form). Instead, the Administration is trying to deflect the pressure for publication by leaking a summary to Charlie Savage who has outlined the memo in a front page story on Sunday’s Times.

From Savage’s account, it seems that the OLC is taking a very extreme position, using a latitudinarian construction of both international law and Congress’ 2001 Resolution Authorizing the Use of Force to defend the virtually unlimited use of drones against “terrorists” in failed states like Yemen or Somalia. But of course, it’s impossible to assess OLC’s position fairly until the Administration actually publishes the memo itself. It is simply unacceptable to force Americans to determine when they can be assassinated by reading rumors about the government’s legal reasoning in the New York Times.
Read more »

Monday, December 28, 2009

Updates on the National Surveillance State

Frank Pasquale

I just wanted to draw attention to two articles describing the advance of the national surveillance state.

Stephen Graham's pathbreaking essay "Surveillance, Urbanization, and the US 'Revolution in Military Affairs'" (in the collection Theorizing Surveillance edited by David Lyons) predicted that innovations designed to subdue hostile territories could have many troubling applications elsewhere. In "Welcome Home, War," Alfred W. McCoy argues that "the crusade for democracy abroad . . . has proven remarkably effective in building a technological template that could be just a few tweaks away from creating a domestic surveillance state—-with omnipresent cameras, deep data-mining . . . biometric identification, and drone aircraft patrolling 'the homeland:'"

[M]ilitary intelligence units are coming home to apply their combat-tempered surveillance skills to our expanding homeland security state, while preparing to counter any future domestic civil disturbances here. . . . [I]n September 2008, the Army's Northern Command announced that one of the Third Division's brigades in Iraq would be reassigned as a Consequence Management Response Force (CMRF) inside the US Its new mission: planning for moments when civilian authorities may need help with "civil unrest and crowd control." According to Colonel Roger Cloutier, his unit's civil-control equipment featured "a new modular package of non-lethal capabilities" designed to subdue unruly or dangerous individuals—including Taser guns, roadblocks, shields, batons, and beanbag bullets.


In a future America, enhanced retinal recognition could be married to omnipresent security cameras as a part of the increasingly routine monitoring of public space. Military surveillance equipment, tempered to a technological cutting edge in counterinsurgency wars, might also one day be married to the swelling domestic databases of the NSA and FBI, sweeping the fiber-optic cables beneath our cities for any sign of subversion. And in the skies above, loitering aircraft and cruising drones could be checking our borders and peering down on American life.


I would count on Fox News celebrating all these innovations as vital to protection of the homeland (as soon as they are implemented by a President who is not a Democrat).

More innovations in surveillance and control appear to be coming out of the office of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Here is part of Jacqueline Stevens' essay on the topic in The Nation:

ICE agents regularly impersonate civilians--OSHA inspectors, insurance agents, religious workers--in order to arrest longtime US residents who have no criminal history. . . . "If you don't have enough evidence to charge someone criminally but you think he's illegal, we can make him disappear." Those chilling words were spoken by [the] then executive director of Immigration and Customs Enforcement's (ICE) Office of State and Local Coordination, at a conference of police and sheriffs in August 2008. Also present was Amnesty International's Sarnata Reynolds, who wrote about the incident in the 2009 report "Jailed Without Justice" and said in an interview, "It was almost surreal being there, particularly being someone from an organization that has worked on disappearances for decades in other countries. I couldn't believe he would say it so boldly, as though it weren't anything wrong."


Conditions for those in immigration detention centers can be very trying:

The absence of a real-time database tracking people in ICE custody means ICE has created a network of secret jails. . . . Alla Suvorova, 26, a Mission Hills, California, resident for almost six years, ended up in B-18 after she was snared in an ICE raid targeting others at a Sherman Oaks apartment building. For her, the worst part was not the dirt, the bugs flying everywhere or the clogged, stinking toilet in their common cell but the panic when ICE agents laughed at her requests to understand how long she would be held. "No one could visit; they couldn't find me."


As Glenn Greenwald has suggested, the key to the national surveillance state is intrusive attention directed at its own citizens, coupled with very little access to the state's use of the information it gathers. That's one reason why the Markle Foundation's proposal for rapid implementation of "immutable audit logs" is critical. Abuses can only be deterred if they are recorded.


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