Balkinization  

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Tendentious, mendacious or audacious? John Roberts rewrites the 10th Amendment

Sandy Levinson


One of the most astounding sentences in Roberts’s egregious Shelby County opinion gutting the Voting Rights Act is the following (slip op., p. 9):  “Indeed, the Constitution provides that all powers not specifically granted to the Federal Government are reserved to the States or citizens.  Amdt. 10.”  (emphasis definitely added)  This is, of course, a highly tendentious paraphrase of the text:  "
"The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.”   No doubt Roberts realized that it would be, shall we say, a bit provocative if he had used the word “expressly,” given that Congress explicitly rejected amending the proposed Tenth Amendment (actually number 12 on the list) to include the magic word that had, of course, been present in the Articles of Confederation.  See, e.g., McCulloch v. Maryland on this point.  So instead he blithely substituted “specifically.”  [Update:  for what it's worth, I include the following set of synonyms from an on-line thesaurus
especially, exactly, in specie, intentionally, on purpose, particularly, precisely, specially, specifically ]
One might offer three different descriptions of this sentence:  a) merely tendentious; b) mendacious; or c) cleverly audacious, setting the basis for future citations of the form “as we recognized in Shelby County, only powers ‘specifically granted to the Federal Government’ are legitimate and all others are reserved to the states.”  As a long-time law professor, I can only say that if a student, asked to complete a short-answer question on “what does the 10th Amendment say,” wrote what Roberts did, I would be disinclined to award it a very good grade.  

I might point out, incidentally, with regard to Shelby County, that the Constitution expressly does grant Congress the power to engage in all appropriate legislation to enforce the 15th Amendment's guarantee that the right to vote will not be denied because of race.  So the 10th Amendment has nothing whatsoever to do with the case.  Instead, Roberts is telling us that because he, as a legislator, would not have joined Congress's overwhelming 2006 vote to renew the VRA, then Congress behaved "inappropriately."

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Q. What’s worse than discrimination? (A) Accusations of bigotry. (B) Stopping discrimination.

Joseph Fishkin

For the past couple of days I’ve been turning over in my head one important question that was part of both Shelby County and Windsor.  The common question is: to what degree should the Court defer to the judgments of Congress?  Apparent hypocrisy on this issue is easy to find—perhaps easiest in the case of Justice Scalia, whose Windsor dissent excoriates the majority at considerable length for impugning the judgments of “our respected coordinate branches, the Congress and Presidency” in enacting DOMA (p.19).  Just 24 hours earlier, he joined the Shelby County majority in the extraordinary decision to toss aside, largely without discussion, Congress’ 15,000 page record of discrimination in support of the Voting Rights Act renewal.

However, on a different reading, those two votes are perfectly consistent.  On this second reading, the troublesome thing in Windsor to Justice Scalia is not overturning the considered judgment of Congress, but rather, impugning legislators’ motives as being in some way bigoted or racist.  On this second reading, the problem with the Windsor majority was that in holding that those enacting DOMA acted from a “bare . . . desire to harm a politically unpopular group,” the majority unfairly portrayed that Congress (and President Clinton, I guess) as the “unhinged members of a wild-eyed lynch mob” (p.19).  That’s unfair, Justice Scalia says, adding: “Bear in mind that the object of this condemnation is not the legislature of some once-Confederate Southern state (familiar objects of the Court’s scorn [a citation follows to a Louisiana case about teaching creationism]).” If the Court wants to charge Congress with being as ignorant and bigoted as a lynch mob or a bunch of Louisiana creationists, he writes, the Court needs “the most extraordinary evidence.”

This view is sort of consistent with the majority opinion in Shelby County.  There, of course, interestingly, we are actually talking about “some once-Confederate Southern state[s].”  In renewing the VRA, Congress might be viewed as acting like the Court majority acted in Windsor (in Justice Scalia’s telling): Congress was condemning some democratically elected governments—those of the covered jurisdictions—as being a bunch of unreconstructed racists, whereas in fact this is unfair, as “[t]hings have changed in the South” (Chief Justice Roberts’ opinion in Shelby County at p.6, quoting himself in NAMUDNO).

So here’s a consistent principle: don’t impugn the motives of modern governments—even or perhaps especially in the South—as bigoted, whether against black people or gay people or anyone else.  Call it the Anti-Romer principle: don’t do what Justice Kennedy did in Romer.  Don’t hold that the people or their representatives are bunch of bigots.  (In Romer, the Court concluded that the people of Colorado enacted an initiative prohibiting certain legal protections for gay people for an illegitimate reason: “to make them unequal to everybody else.”)  We can stipulate, I think, that anyone who believes strongly in this Anti-Romer principle would have been among the three dissenters in Romer.

I got this far and tried this story out on Cary Franklin.  She was skeptical, and threw a major wrench in it, by asking “what about Fisher?”


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Thursday, June 27, 2013

Recovering Reconstruction

Gerard N. Magliocca

I just wanted to add a brief word to Mark and Stephen's posts on the absence of any significant discussion of Reconstruction in the Supreme Court's opinions.  The Introduction of my forthcoming biography of John Bingham raises this point, tries to explain why that is true in the courts and in our culture more broadly, and expresses the hope that a greater appreciation of Bingham's career will do something to change all of that.  It is essential to bring the Constitution closer to its true meaning.


Scalia is right: Justice Kennedy's opinion in Windsor doesn't rest on federalism

Unknown

The Chief Justice, in an opinion dissenting in Windsor, claims that the majority’s opinion rests on federalism, and thus that it should lend support to the view that state laws limiting marriage to opposite couples are constitutional.  Rick Pildes (see below) in part agrees – arguing that the opinion rests on the interrelated grounds of federalism and equal/protection due process. In this reading, I believe both the Chief Justice and Professor Pildes are mistaken.  While the majority in Windsor does spend considerable time discussing the fact that federal intrusions into definitions of marriage are unusual, this discussion is not made in support of a federalism rationale.  Rather Justice Kennedy argues that “DOMA’s unusual deviation from the usual tradition of recognizing and accepting state definitions of marriage … is strong evidence of a law having the purpose and effect of disapproval of [same sex couples].”  In other words, DOMA expresses that gay couples are second-class citizens.  How do we know that DOMA stamps these couples as inferior?  In part, argues Justice Kennedy, because the federal government has gone out of its way to intervene in an area normally left to states.  Respect for federalism does not play any role in justifying the decision.  Rather, the deviation from traditional practices here serves the function of making clear that the federal action has the purpose and effect – or I would say the meaning – of demeaning gay couples.  

What does Windsor thus portend for the constitutionality of state laws that restrict marriage to opposite sex couples?   That will depend on whether a state law restricting marriage to opposite sex couples similarly demeans same-sex couples and their unions.  Justice Kennedy might think that without the unusual action of the federal government reaching into state affairs, the meaning of a restrictive state law is less clear or less stigmatizing, so in a sense he hasn't committed himself to the view that state laws are also constitutionally infirm.  However, Kennedy uses the word dignity (or indignity) a total of 10 times in his fairly short opinion – signaling the importance of an interest that he used to invalidate a Texas law criminalizing non-coital sex in Lawrence v. Texas.  DOMA demeans the dignity of same-sex couples because it takes from them the status and respect that their own states have conferred upon them in recognizing their marriages.  If what matters is whether a law expresses that same sex couples are inferior, it seems to me a relatively small step to conclude that state laws limiting marriage to opposite sex couples should also be found unconstitutional. 

Crazy uncles

Andrew Koppelman

Reading the Supreme Court’s opinions in the same-sex marriage cases felt like watching a couple of crazy old uncles bicker. I’m a law professor, and I’ve been reading Supreme Court opinions for years. Justice Anthony Kennedy, who wrote the majority opinion striking down the Defense of Marriage Act, was his typical self: bloviating, self-important, irritating even when he’s right about everything just because he’s so damn pleased with himself. Antonin Scalia, who dissented, also did not disappoint: a snarling, grumpy old man, full of viciously funny one-liners.

Don’t misunderstand me: This was a great day. Same-sex marriage came to California, and DOMA, a stupid, nasty law, is history. The Court acted well. But the judges’ opinions leaven the heroic tale with some comic relief.

You can read the rest of this post at Salon.com, here.

Standing Still

Mark Graber

Am I the only one who thinks all nine justices collectively wrote both opinions in Hollingsworth v. Perry and then drew straws to see which five would be in the majority and which four in the dissent.  If not, would the following be a fair examination question: “Explain the voting alignment in the Proposition 8 case in light of what the justices in the majority and the justices in the dissent had previously written on standing.”

Much ink will be split over whether the opinions on standing in Hollingsworth and Windsor make sense.  The better question is whether traditional standing doctrine makes any sense in the context presented by the attacks on Proposition 8 and DOMA (the below channels a very fine commentary written by Richard Epstein many years ago).  Consider two possible cases.  In the first, the Federalist Society and the American Constitutional Society work up a feigned case to test the constitutionality of the state ban on same-sex marriage in the state of Terrapin.  The briefs are written and oral argument presented by the best advocates in the country, all of whom passionately believe in their positions.  In the second, the couple seeking to be married are two out-of work lawyers, both of whom received a D+ in their constitutional law class when they attended a tier four law school.  Having big egos and limited funds, they represent themselves.  Indifferent Terrapin officials assign an overworked state attorney to defend the state law.  Which is the better vehicle for determining the constitutionality of same sex marriage?

These observations suggest that courts should not worry about standing if there are many people who would have standing to raise and defend the identical constitutional issue the court wishes to resolve and every reason exists for thinking that the actual parties before the court (and the 42% of the global population that has submitted an amicus brief) have provided appropriate perspectives on the constitutional issues.  With respect to Proposition 8, this means that the Court should have denied standing if the justices were prepared to rule only on the constitutionality of same-sex marriage in California.  But no point exists for deciding Hollingsworth on standing if the real issue was the constitutionality of same-sex marriage.

Think of some death penalty analogies.  Five minutes before announcing their decision, the justices learn that the capitally sentenced prisoner has died of natural causes.  If the decision is that capital punishment is unconstitutional, does any good reason exist for raising the standing question?

Of course, very good reasons existed for not deciding the constitutionality of same-sex marriage at this time and place.  In a forthcoming article on what I call “constitutional yo-yos,” I argue that the Supreme Court ought not to make major decisions by 5-4 votes when the justices in the majority have very good reason for thinking that the next judicial appointee is likely to join a new majority overruling that decision.  But if that or something similar was on the mind of the Roberts Court or the “standing five,” the proper decision was cert dismissed as improvidently granted.  Standing should be left for cases really motivated by standing.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

A brief comment on Justice Kennedy's opinion in Windsor

Sandy Levinson



No doubt it was irresistible for Anthony Kennedy, the senior justice in the majority, to give himself Windsor, given his earlier opinions in Romer and Lawrence.  One consequence, of course, is that he had to keep the support of his four distinctly more liberal colleagues.  No doubt this contributed to the intellectual awkwardness of his opinion.  "Opinions of the Court" often have the characteristic of a camel (i.e., a horse designed by a committee).

Already there is some of the same kind of nit-picking about the doctrinal problems with Windsor as there most certainly were with Romer.  I.e., Kennedy wants to avoid a straight-forward equality argument that would inevitably mean that state prohibitions of same sex marriage are unconstitutional (or, at the very least, that Section 2 is just as invalid as Section 3 inasmuch there can be no constitutionally legitimate reason for Texas, say, to refuse to recognize the validity of a marriage entered into in New York by people who then move to the Lone Star State).  At the same time he no doubt realized that he couldn’t get a single additional vote if he predicated the opinion on a “reserved powers of the state to define marriage” argument, though he certainly included some blather about traditional state sovereignty and marriage.  So we get the combo that leaves many people who take legal doctrine overly seriously confused (though I presume we all predict that some time in the future  the Court will go after then now-outlier states that are sticking to heterosexual marriage as the exclusive norm).

But what if he had given the opinion to one of the moderate four?  Surely, she (or Breyer) would have emphasized equality and downplayed the federalism argument  (assuming it was even mentioned it at all).  So would we have had a 4-4-1 outcome, with Kennedy playing Powell’s role in Bakke, providing the crucial 5th vote on a theory rejected by all the rest of his colleagues?  This is, of course, basically what happened in Parents Involved.  So the (altogether serious) question is whether we are better off with the “Opinion of the Court,” however intellectually problematic in some ways, than with an undoubtedly more intellectually satisfying and coherent opinion written by any of the other four members of the majority that would not, however, received the label "Opinion of the Court."

Avoiding the Civil War

Stephen Griffin

I will chime in to say that I agree strongly with Mark Graber's post on "The Missing Amendments."  The only point I disagree with is that this is new.  The Civil War and the Reconstruction Amendments are conspicuously absent from almost all of the Rehnquist and Roberts Courts jurisprudence on federalism.  You can read pages of discourse in the US Reports on state sovereignty without ever encountering a discussion of how the amendments made a difference to the federal system.  The only time the Court comes to grips with the Civil War is when it is unavoidable, as in the Court's section 5 jurisprudence.  But you may have noticed that many scholars do not find that doctrine persuasive and one of the background reasons is that the Court has never taken the Civil War seriously.  I hope to write about this in the near future.

Windsor: LGBT version of Reed v. Reed?

Mary L. Dudziak

While others are working to fill in an implicit logic to Justice Kennedy’s opinion in Windsor, what it most reminds me of is past decisions that offered a result without a theory – perhaps like  Brown (although the social science footnote suggested that there had been a shift in the way equality was understood).  Or, especially, like Reed v. Reed (1971). 

Reed came only 10 years after Hoyt v. Florida, a case that said it was reasonable for states to take into account the idea that women’s place was in the home when constructing a jury system.  Although equality jurisprudence developed significantly between Hoyt and Reed (e.g. Loving v. VA), the Court did not have a developing gender jurisprudence to build upon.  Reed departed, without saying so, from rational basis review when the Court struck down a state law that gave preference to men when two parents sought to be executor of their son’s estate.  The opinion was brief, sort of like Windsor.  The opinion cited as authority the classic rational basis review case Railway Express Agency v. New York.  The state of Idaho had offered a rational, non-invidious reason: avoiding conflict over administration of an estate.  Justice Burger wrote for a unanimous Court only that
Regardless of their sex, persons within any one of the enumerated classes of that section are similarly situated with respect to that objective. By providing dissimilar treatment for men and women who are thus similarly situated, the challenged section violates the Equal Protection Clause.
There was no discussion of why gender was a problematic classification, and no discussion of levels of scrutiny.  Sort of like Windsor.  Intermediate scrutiny, of course, would not appear until five years later in Craig v. Boren. 

As a result without a theory, Reed turned out to be a signal of something to come. It was an indication that the rights of women would finally be taken seriously by the Court.  We might also take Windsor as a signal that more robust equal protection rights for LGBT folks is on the way.  But this makes Windsor’s analytical paucity more striking.  The case it not a sea change, like Brown or Reed, because it follows Lawrence and Romer.  As compared to gender discrimination, it is taking the Court a long time to find a theory.

Constitutional Choreography?

Neil Siegel

My experience has been that, as of 10 AM this morning, no one in the news media has wanted to talk about the Roberts Court's monumental invalidation of the heart of the Voting Rights Act.

Apparently, yesterday was a long time ago.

I, of course, cannot know why the opinions were handed down in the order that they were. But the order is nonetheless striking. The appearance of moderation in Fisher preceded (predicted?) the outcome in Shelby County, public reaction to which has been muted by Windsor and Perry.

If the Court had wanted to manipulate public opinion, it could not have ordered the opinions any more skillfully.

Justice Thomas and Korematsu Redux

Jamal Greene

Some time ago I wrote a post in which I asked whether Justice Thomas believes Korematsu v. United States is correctly decided.  I concluded that it was an open question given that he has never (to my knowledge) said otherwise; that he has cited favorably to Hirabayashi v. United States; and that he supported a principle in his Hamdi v. Rumsfeld dissent that is consistent with the majority's decision in Korematsu.

We now have an additional and significant data point, namely Justice Thomas's concurring opinion in Fisher v. University of Texas. Discussing the contours of strict scrutiny, he begins with what appears to be a favorable citation to Korematsu for its recognition "that protecting national security" may satisfy that standard and that the evacuation order at issue in that case was justified by "a definite and close relationship to the prevention of espionage and sabotage."

As I discussed in my earlier post, Justice Thomas's apparent embrace of Korematsu is, at the least, ironic. He is the Justice most hostile to racial classification in every context except the one -- evacuation and detention in the absence of individualized or even general suspicion -- in which every other Justice (and nearly every mainstream legal thinker) agrees that racial classification is impermissible.  There are many opinions in the U.S. Reports supportive of Korematsu's invocation of strict scrutiny, but Justice Thomas's Fisher concurrence appears to be the closest any Justice has come to supporting Korematsu's implementation of that standard.

The best explanation for this tension is Justice Thomas's quasi-religious devotion to constitutional rules over standards, born of his evident hostility to judicial discretion.  Korematsu involves a conflict between two "rules" he holds dear -- the rule that the Constitution is colorblind and the rule that the Executive gets absolute discretion on wartime operational decisions.  Judicial discretion as between these two rules is inevitable, and for reasons only he knows, Justice Thomas seems to favor the second over the first.

Why Justice Kennedy’s DOMA opinion Has the Unique Legal Structure It Has

Guest Blogger

Rick Pildes

Justice Kennedy’s pathbreaking opinion mixes structural constitutional principles – federalism – with individual rights principles – due process – into a unique blend that leads to Section 3 of DOMA being unconstitutional. Why this mixed blend? Why not decide the case on either the structural basis or the individual rights basis alone?

First, if the case were decided on straight due process/equal protection grounds, it would be very difficult for the decision not to rest on a logic that would compel the conclusion that states are constitutionally obligated to permit same-sex marriage. The very reasons that would make it unconstitutional for federal law to prefer traditional marriage – reasons of morality, or tradition, or related ones – would be the very same reasons states would rely on to defend their laws that prefer traditional marriage. Thus, those state laws would be likely to fall from any straightforward ruling solely on individual rights grounds that DOMA Section 3 violates equal protection/due process. Whether Justice Kennedy wants to get there some other day or not, he doesn’t want to pre-commit now to that ultimate decision. Thus, all of the emphasis on constitutional principles of federalism are a way of tempering that more bald and direct equal protection/due process holding. The federalism emphasis potentially cabins the decision only to DOMA itself, without a logic that would lead directly to an affirmative constitutional obligation for all states to permit SSM. That’s why Justice Kennedy does not decide the case on a more direct individual rights basis.

Second, why then not decide the case on direct structural grounds that DOMA violates constitutional principles of federalism, to which Justice Kennedy is strongly drawn? Because he recognizes that to hold DOMA unconstitutional solely as an intrusion on traditional state areas of control would be a greatly destabilizing innovation in constitutional doctrine. A vast amount of federal law regulates in areas that traditionally and historically were under state control. So Justice Kennedy is not prepared to go down the pure structural route of federalism alone.

By holding DOMA unconstitutional because of some mix of federalism/individual rights constitutional principles – without very directly concluding that it violates either federalism alone or equal protection/due process alone – we have a classic Justice Kennedy decision. He has cobbled together a doctrinal resolution that does not commit to the more dramatic proposition that SSM is constitutionally required, or to the dramatic federalism principle that Congress has no power to override states in areas of traditional state control, while also reaching the conclusion that Section 3 of DOMA is unconstitutional.

Windsor and the Constitutional Prohibition against Class Legislation

JB

Justice Kennedy's opinion in Windsor (press coverage here and here) studiously avoids using the familiar concepts of levels of scrutiny and fundamental rights.  Instead, he emphasizes that in enacting DOMA, Congress had reached out to stigmatize and impose special burdens on same-sex couples that states had recognized as married. 

The ideas in his opinion may seem strange to people who grew up learning post-1970s equal protection and due process jurisprudence. But they would not be at all strange to people living in the nineteenth century, especially at the time the Reconstruction Amendments were adopted.  (This is *not* a claim that people in the 19th century would have accepted the result in Windsor-- it is a point about the way they conceptualized constitutional claims of liberty and equality.)

A key idea in the nineteenth century was that of class legislation. Class legislation is legislation that picks out a group of people for special benefits or special burdens without adequate public justification.  The idea was that laws should be general, not special, and serve a public purpose, not simply the interests of some powerful group in society.  When Andrew Jackson first invokes the idea of equal protection in his 1832 bank veto message, his objection is that the law is unequal because Congress has given special privileges to wealthy financiers, creating a new kind of aristocracy of wealth and privilege. (The idea of class legislation had overtones of anti-republicanism). The flip side of the notion that legislatures could not great special benefits  was that legislatures could not impose special burdens or unjustifiably single out people or groups for disapproval or harm.  This idea was connected to, although not identical with, the idea of bills of attainder, and the creation of caste by law.
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Perry and the Constitutionalization of Agency Law

Mark Tushnet

Not that anyone really cares, but the Court's opinion in Perry might have quite broad implications for legislative authority to create property rights, the invasion of which is sufficient to confer standing. As Justice Kennedy's devastating dissent points out, the Court appears to hold that Article III requires state law to conform to some general federal principles (drawn from the Restatement of Agency) of agency law, when it creates what it (the state) calls an agency relationship.

Suppose the California Supreme Court had said that initiative proponents who pursued litigation to defend "their" initiative when state officials refused to do so were entitled to receive a bounty of $100,000 if their defense succeeded. (This is like the federal qui tam cases, I think.) Would they then be "Article III agents"? Or merely ordinary holders of a contingent property right? Note that "the people" could revoke the bounty whenever they wanted to (just as they could revoke the proponents' entitlement to defend the initiative, as Justice Kennedy points out). Would a retrospective revocation be a taking of property?

Now take away the bounty, and you have a situation where the initiative proponents have a property right protected by remedies other than "damages." (No state court could enjoin them from appearing to defend their initiative, for example.) You also have the situation in Perry itself. But, we know that the proponents don't have standing because they don't have the characteristics of agents as defined by the Restatement of Agency.

So, apparently, California can't develop its own law of agency in connection with ballot initiatives, responsive -- as Justice Kennedy says -- to the special circumstances of ballot initiatives (in the way common-law courts develop the law of agency in other contexts). (The limitation is restricted to Article III standing, of course.)

The question then is, What other state-law entitlements are constrained by Article III for standing purposes? (Here "state-law" is a shorthand for "entitlements created by law outside Article III," so the principle applies to congressionally-determined entitlements as well.) Akins says that Congress can create a right to information merely to satisfy the requestor's curiosity; Lujan says that Congress can't create a right to ensure that "the law" be adhered to. Perry is somewhere in between, but who knows exactly where. Maybe the technical problem in Perry is that the California Supreme Court didn't use the right magic words to describe the initiative proponents as "really, really" agents of the people.

And, of course, the most accurate analysis is almost certainly that five Justices wanted to duck the merits at the moment (maybe more did so, but were liberated to join Kennedy's dissent by the fact that five were willing to bite the bullet and find no standing).

This Pudding Lacks a Theme

Gerard N. Magliocca

Let me start by saying that I like the result in Windsor.  I support same-sex marriage as a policy matter.  And I can understand a few ways of concluding that same-sex marriage is constitutionally required.

However . . .

Justice Scalia's dissent in Windsor is a tour de force on two points:  (1) there was no standing in the case; and (2) the Court's rationale for why the holding applies only to DOMA is nonsensical.  The argument for standing is actually stronger in Perry, where the Court (with a strange lineup of Justices) said that there was no standing.  For all of you who think that standing is just code for "Does the Court feel like reaching the merits?" you now have two fat trophies to mount on your wall.

With respect to the merits, I find Justice Kennedy's opinion hard to understand.  He says it's not a federalism decision, though he talks a lot about states'-rights and marriage.  He says that it is a Fifth Amendment decision, but does not explain why that Due Process Clause should be read differently from the identical provision in the Fourteenth Amendment.  I must say I'm getting tired of reading Supreme Court opinions that throw in some lines of dicta at the end to limit their holdings.  (Bush v. Gore, Grutter v. Bollinger, Lawrence v. Texas, Heller, and now Windsor.)  More to the point, denying marriage to same-sex couples who are married in a state is unconstitutionally demeaning, but denying them any rights in a state is not?  Who believes this?  Anybody?  

Maybe this boils down to a question of how much you like the common-law method.  A basic precept of the common law is that courts reach results that seem right, but it takes a long time for a framework to emerge that makes sense of those precedents.  In the case of sexual orientation, the framework seems obvious.  The Court is applying heightened scrutiny to laws that single out gays and lesbians--they just don't want to say that.  When they eventually strike down all state laws banning same-sex marriage, as they inevitably will, that's what they will say.  I'm surprised, though, that you can't even find one Justice who will say that in 2013.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

The Way Forward After Shelby County

Joseph Fishkin


On the face of it, what the Court did today in Shelby County seems more modest than what it might have done.  While it could have struck down Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act—and indeed Justice Thomas wrote separately to say he would have—instead the Court struck “only” Section 4, the coverage formula that determines which states are covered under the Act.  Many have already pointed out that this is a distinction without a difference: since this Congress seems unlikely to enact a new Section 4 coverage formula (and there is no telling whether such a formula would be upheld by this Court anyway), the Court’s move today was at best false modesty.  Section 5 is essentially dead, whether or not the Court admits it did the deed.

I want to suggest in this post that while it’s correct that this distinction makes little immediate difference, in jurisprudential terms, striking Section 4 was in some ways more radical than striking Section 5.  The Court’s approach to Section 4 represents a new departure in American federalism, one only hinted at in dicta in one previous case: a principle that the states’ “equal sovereignty” constrains Congress’ ability to treat one state differently from another.  This principle is one that should not have survived Reconstruction.  Its appearance in the federalism jurisprudence of 2013 does not augur anything good.

Although the Court would not put it this way, let’s be blunt.  Today’s decision was a major victory for all those who have ever viewed federal civil rights laws as unfairly victimizing and singling out the white South.  I say more about this in this recent essay about the principle of “equal sovereignty” that the Court endorsed today.  I won’t repeat it all here.  To fully understand what happened today, one needs to go back not only to the Nixon and Reagan era of backlash against civil rights laws (and the related revival of talk of “state sovereignty”), but also to a century or so before that.  It was the opponents of Reconstruction and the Reconstruction Amendments who first put forward the argument that the enforcement of black civil rights against the Southern states in particular was an affront to those states’ equal sovereignty.  That is why I think that in jurisprudential terms, and in the long sweep of history, the choice to strike down Section 4 in particular, in part on “equal sovereignty” grounds, was not modest at all, but radical.  As Justice Ginsburg says in dissent (p.30), going this route took considerable “hubris.”

Even so, the Court’s choice to strike the coverage formula (Section 4) as opposed to the preclearance provision itself (Section 5) actually leaves a bit more room for potential responses.  And here I do not simply mean the unlikely scenario of the current Congress quickly enacting a new Section 4 formula.  Section 5 sits now in a kind of suspended animation.  It can be reactivated in specific instances through litigation, even in the absence of any action by Congress, through the so-called “pocket trigger” system (Section 3).  Congress ought to amend and strengthen this system.  In the meantime, civil rights advocates should consider targeted litigation under Section 3 to trigger preclearance coverage in a state like Texas, even if Congress does nothing.

Although I am open to persuasion on this point, after reading the decision today my view of the way forward is this:  Congress should not attempt to enact a revised Section 4.  Instead, Congress (whether this Congress or a future Congress) should enact stronger nationwide voting rights protections, while at the same time strengthening the pocket trigger.  My proposal on the latter point is this:  Section 5 coverage should commence automatically in any jurisdiction that a court determines has violated Section 2.  Coverage should last ten years (to cover a redistricting cycle) and should include other jurisdictions physically within the covered jurisdiction.  I think this proposal would achieve many of Section 5’s aims, and furthermore, I think the Court would uphold it.


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The problem of racism solved, yet again

Andrew Koppelman

The Supreme Court has a long history of declaring that the problem of racism in the United States has been solved. It did that in a series of decisions just after the Civil War, striking down civil-rights and anti-lynching laws and paving the way for decades of racial segregation. And today it has just done it again.

You can read the rest of this post at the New York Magazine website, here.

The Missing Amendments

Mark Graber


            From 1861 to 1865, the United States fought a civil war.  The outcome of the war were three constitutional amendments, military rule in the south, and numerous federal laws minutely regulating political procedures in the former confederate states.  The constitutional significance of the Civil War and Reconstruction remains a source of political and scholarly debate, but no one denies that something of great constitutional importance happened during the 1860s.  Until today.
            One of the most remarkable features of Chief Justice Roberts' opinion for the Court in Shelby County v. Holder is the almost complete absence of any reference to the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Amendments, the Civil War, or anything that happened during Reconstruction.  The only provisions the Chief Justice deemed relevant were the Necessary and Proper Clause of Article I and the Tenth Amendment.  In this new world, the Civil War and Reconstruction never occurred or, as the Dunning School maintained, they were blots on American constitutionalism that ought to be erased.  The Roberts opinion reads as if a new legal principle is emerging, later constitutional provisions are interpreted and modified in light of earlier provisions, rather than earlier provisions being interpreted in light of later provisions.  For a court that can spout originalism when the Second Amendment is on the table, the silence about the original meaning and practice of the Reconstruction Amendments is deafening (note how Jack Balkin caught the complete lack of references in Fisher to the race conscious measures the Reconstruction Congress passed at the same time the Fourteenth Amendment was framed).
            There are arguments to be made that the Voting Rights Act, at least at present, goes beyond the understanding of federalism underlying the Reconstruction Amendments, but surely those are the relevant texts and principles that must be analyzed.  Perhaps Justice Miller in Slaughter-House was correct when he stated that framing understandings of federalism survived the Civil War.  Nevertheless, the crucial issue in Shelby County should have been the extent to which the Constitution of 1868 incorporated 18th century notions of federalism rather than the majority’s apparent believe that their version of the Tenth Amendment, like state equality in the Senate, is immune from constitutional revision.
            Shelby County highlights another disturbing feature of contemporary American constitutional politics.  We celebrate Brown and regard the dead or dottering persons responsible for the destruction of Jim Crow as heroes.  Still, think of how few politicians have successfully gained office by claiming that they were for racial equality long before this was a cause embraced by every decent human being.  Think also of how many prominent figures held office who opposed Brown (or some other civil rights icon), and came to support that decision only when doing so was politically the only option and when Brown could be used as a weapon against other demands for racial equality.  So the judicial majority in Shelby County celebrates a voting rights act no member of which has ever read liberally as they now claim its time has past.

Shelby County

Gerard N. Magliocca

To my mind, Justice Ginsburg's dissent is correct in calling out the Chief Justice for declining to "update a statute" to save its constitutionality, citing his opinion in Sebelius.

UPDATE:  The most important implication of the Court's opinion is its use of an "equal state sovereignty" principle to invalidate a federal law.  This could be applied in other contexts, such as the pending constitutional challenge to the Act of Congress that permits a few states (such as Nevada) to have legal sports betting while prohibiting the rest from doing so.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Why Fisher is Important

JB

Fisher v. University of Texas is a torso of an opinion, a seven-Justice compromise that strongly suggests that a longer opinion either would not write or could not command five votes. Nevertheless, the opinion we have does have several interesting features:
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The Court continues micromanaging college admissions

Mary L. Dudziak

My take on Fisher at CNN.com.
(Though cnn just gave it a new headline that is both wrong & inconsistent with my argument.  I focused on the discussion of strict scrutiny and made the point that Kennedy's approach to narrow tailoring gives the courts too big a role in setting admissions policy.)

A Response to My Critics

Guest Blogger

Michael Greve

For the symposium on Michael Greve's The Upside Down Constitution (Harvard University Press 2012).


Jack Balkin has been a dear friend for many years. I am very grateful for his hospitality here, and for the contributors’ thoughtful, generous comments on The Upside-Down Constitution (“UDC”). As was to expected, they have identified a wide range of questions that beg further examination and debate. I can’t possibly do them justice, nor even address all the relevant objections to my enterprise. What follows is my initial, tentative reply on three sets of questions. Consider it a partial contribution to a (hopefully, continuing) debate among friends and colleagues, about serious matters.

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Eureka!

Gerard N. Magliocca

The decision in Fisher explains the Court's choice to grant review of the Sixth Circuit's en banc opinion invalidating Michigan's constitutional amendment banning racial preferences in higher education.  Taking that cert. petition and setting the case down for argument in the Fall seemed odd given that there was the option of vacating and remanding "in light of Fisher."  Since Fisher said nothing, though, the grant makes sense.   

Inside Baseball Observations/Speculations on Today's Supreme Court Opinions

Mark Tushnet

I have nothing of substance to say now about the Court's opinions today. Several thoughts, though:

1. In Kebodeaux, how many sentences does Justice Breyer begin with "And." And, how many other Justices are fond of doing so? (Lots, and none, I think.)

2. Why did it take so long to hand Fisher down? Speculations based upon nothing other than the opinions and the timing: (a) The ultimate opinion isn't how it looked at the outset. Initially there was a more substantive discussion of Texas's program, but it wouldn't fly (meaning, I would think, that Justice Kennedy ended up thinking that he didn't have good answers to the criticisms he got, perhaps from both sides). Counterargument: There's nothing in Justice Thomas's opinion suggesting that he was writing about some now-gone portions of a proposed opinion. Counter to that: He did a good job of scrubbing the opinion of such references, which contributed to the length of time it took to get the cases out.

(b) Justice Thomas's opinion simply took a long time to write. There's a lot of mining of old briefs, and there were lots to go through, and then he had to choose precisely which quotations to use.

(c) The Justices (not entirely consciously and sometimes contrary to their stated views) love public attention, and holding the opinion up (for "polishing," no doubt) heightens suspense and public attention.

And the (1915, 2013) Winner is . . . Business

Mark Graber

            Today’s opinions from the Supreme Court highlight how the conservative majority is reverting to judicial practices before the New Deal, but not in the way many commentators expected.  The justices are not restoring ancient doctrinal categories or dramatically cutting back on civil liberties.  Rather, as was the case in 1915ish, the big winner is business.  When business is not involved, the judicial majority is often at least as liberal if not slightly more liberal than the rest of the ruling regime.
            As much historical scholarship has demonstrated, the Supreme Court before 1932 was often far more liberal than Congress or the President on what we now call civil rights and civil liberties issues.  During the first third of the twentieth century, the court struck down peonage laws, declared unconstitutional local ordinances mandating residential segregation, and voided a few restrictions on African-American voting.  Fourth, Sixth and Eighth Amendment law moved in more libertarian directions (often with more conservative than liberal support).  Of course, lots of lousy decisions got handed down from 1900-1932.  Nevertheless the general point is that on most civil rights and civil liberties issues, where business was uninvolved, the justices were at least as liberty supporting as any other institution in the national government.
            Mention the word “union,” however, and conservatives became the conservatives who have been reviled throughout history.  Unions for all practical purposes enjoyed a forty year losing streak from 1895 (In re Debs) to 1936 (Carter v. Carter Coal Co.).  The issue did not matter much.  Unions lost when the issue was federal judicial power to enjoin strikes, federal legislative power to prohibit yellow dog contracts, the scope of federal anti-trust laws (baseball was exempt, but not unions) and federal power to protect unions.  If there was a union on one side of the case, judicial conservatives voted with the other.
            Fast forward to today (or the past few weeks).  In cases where business is either uninterested or divided, the Roberts Court has no powerful affinity for conservative positions.  In the long awaited Fisher case, Justice Kennedy, Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Alito essentially asked the lower federal courts to take “narrow tailoring” a bit more seriously.  Grutter, a decision that cites business support for affirmative action, is reaffirmed.  This was far better than even most optimistic liberal commentators expected.  In United States v. Kebodeaux, we learned that Roberts, Kennedy, and Alito have no objections to congressional power requiring sex offenders to register where they reside, particularly where the sex offender was in the military.  Hard to see any business objection to that one.  As important, this term has had numerous cases involving non-business interests where one or more conservative justice has joined the liberals to form a majority for a moderately progressive outcome.  Think, for example, of Jardines (Scalia and Thomas join three liberals to declare the dog sniff an illegal search), the Arizona vote case (Roberts and Kennedy join the liberals to declare that federal law preempts Arizona’s requirement that persons produce proof of citizenship to vote) or Alleyne v. United States (Thomas joins the liberals to declare that facts increasing mandatory minimums must be found by a jury).
             The winner today, as in most days in the recent past, is business. All five conservatives torture a federal law in Vance v. Ball State University when concluding that people who direct work activities are somehow not supervisors.  The result is that when those people engage in racial (or sexual) harassment, the business which gave them supervisory responsibilities is not liable.  The pharmaceutical industry got a nice gift from the justices when in another 5-4 vote the justices in Mutual Pharmaceuticals v. Bartlett sharply limited state law remedies against inadequate warnings about design defects.  Finally, in University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center v. Nassar, the same five conservatives ruled that businesses are free to be motivated by a desire to fire people who complain about discrimination as long as that is not the only reason why employment was terminated.
            Perhaps the lesson of these decisions is that all of us spend too much time on grand constitutional law, where we have been waiting for the conservative apocalypse that has never occurred.  Business enterprise either has little stake in such issues as abortion, same-sex marriage or affirmative action or actually may lean somewhat in favor.  In a time of legislative gridlock, the real action is in statutory interpretation, preemption and administrative law and here, largely out of the public’s eye, is where the conservative revolution in law goes on apace.

Friday, June 21, 2013

Constitutional Codification

Gerard N. Magliocca

Let's engage in a simple thought experiment.  Suppose Congress passed a law that said "Be it enacted" and then just quoted the Constitution and its amendments verbatim--nothing more.  How should courts apply such a statute if litigation is filed saying that it conflicts with another federal statute?

I ask this question for a couple of reasons.  First, advocates of judicial restraint are often drawn to the idea of some sort of conditional judicial review that allows legislatures to enter into a dialogue with the courts.  Minimalism is one way of accomplishing this (through narrow holdings), while other systems use a non obstante clause to permit the legislative override of certain opinions.  If the Constitution was also a statute, though, then courts would always have the option of avoiding a constitutional question and letting Congress (or a state legislature for a state constitution) reach a contrary conclusion.

Wait a minute.  What I just said cannot be right.  How can the same language be read one way as part of a statute and another way in the Constitution?  A glib answer is that Chief Justice Roberts did that last year (What is a tax?).  A more complete answer is that the interpretation may differ depending on the point of enactment.  In other words, a judge would not automatically read language ratified in 1791 the same way as the same language enacted in 2013.  The legal background could (and usually would) be very different.

This last observation leads to my next thought, which is that codifying the Constitution periodically in a statute would also make it harder for courts to undertake broad changes.  Here's one example.  A statute enacting the Due Process Clause today would include the right to have an abortion.  Suppose the Court then overturns Roe v. Wade.  Nothing would change absent legislative action.  The statute would stand unless the doctrine took the view that permitting abortion was unconstitutional.  Could a court interpret the codification statute to match its new constitutional interpretation?  Possibly, but that would be to hard to explain in a way that would be consistent with an enactment like the one I'm positing.

Anyway, the takeaway is that constitutional codification, like the common-law codifications in the nineteenth century, might be a useful project and merits further scrutiny.



Thursday, June 20, 2013

Constitutional Theory and Political Science in Michael Greve’s, The Upside-Down Constitution

Guest Blogger

Michael W. McConnell

For the symposium on Michael Greve's The Upside Down Constitution (Harvard University Press 2012).

As a work of constitutional analysis, I don’t know what to make of Michael Greve’s book. It seems to consist of criticisms of Supreme Court opinions and doctrines (championed by both sides in the federalism debates), but is essentially silent on what he thinks the various constitutional provisions relating to federalism mean, which is what constitutional interpretation is all about. It is fairly clear what kind of federalism Greve thinks would be desirable, but it is far from clear whether he thinks that kind of federalism is constitutionally mandated, or whether competing versions of federalism should be treated as unconstitutional.

Despite the word “Constitution” in its title, Greve’s book is better understood as a work of political science than of constitutional law. Here it succeeds brilliantly. After reading this book, surely no one will use the term “states’ rights” as a shortcut for constitutional federalism. Greve’s favored version of federalism, competitive federalism, is primarily a structural restraint on state governments, rather than an empowerment. And no one will again make the mistake of thinking that national legislation necessarily derogates from the authority of state governments. Just as regulation often benefits some businesses – usually the large and well-connected – at the expense of other businesses, national legislation often enables state governments to engage in taxation and regulation that would be counterproductive in an environment of competitive federalism.

Greve’s insights thus enable supporters of various policies to choose more intelligently what mix of national and state lawmaking and administration they should favor, depending on their goals. A reader of Greve’s book might well come to the conclusion that the best political course is to be opportunistic about federalism – as both political parties are – rather than to strive for some kind of consistency. (That, of course, is the opposite of a constitutional theory.)

But it seems to me that, whether one leans more to the free-market, limited government side, as Greve does, or to the redistributionist regulatory state, as some of his critics do, there are two aspects of Greve’s competitive federalism that should command more widespread agreement.

First, Greve’s federalism is more conducive to a diversity of policies. Ideologues who think their own views are simply best for everyone will have little use for Greve’s federalism, but those who think that there are a variety of reasonable approaches to policy questions will applaud. Let California be a high-tax, burdensome-regulation state, let Texas be the opposite, and we can see what the relative results are for the common good. Which ends up with better schools, more employment opportunity, more immigration, and rising incomes? When policies touch on moral-cultural matters, moreover, Greve’s federalism enhances freedom by ensuring that when Americans vote with their feet, there will be more than a dime’s worth of difference in the places where they may choose to settle.

Second, Greve is surely correct that it is wrong by any measure to allow individual states with idiosyncratic views to compel the entire nation to conform, through such mechanisms as mass tort litigation or regulation based on out-of state conduct. Where markets are genuinely national and the costs of differentiation among states insurmountable, it is probably better to nationalize standards, rather than allow fifty tails to wag the dog. There are occasions when national majorities should rule the entire nation and occasions where the various state majorities should rule within their own states, but there are probably no occasions where an individual state majority should rule the entire nation.

Michael W. McConnell is Richard & Frances Mallery Professor, Stanford Law School,

Director, Stanford Constitutional Law Center and Senior Fellow, Hoover Institution. You can reach him by e-mail at mcconnell at law.stanford.edu

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Michael Greve’s Competitive Federalism and the Maturation of the Federalism Debate

Guest Blogger

Ernest A. Young

For the symposium on Michael Greve's The Upside Down Constitution (Harvard University Press 2012).

            I’m grateful for the opportunity to discuss Michael Greve’s extraordinary book, The Upside Down Constitution.  The book is both big and dense (in a good way), and it’s packed with more ideas than I can possibly do justice to here.  I’d like to focus on how Michael’s book both reflects and contributes to a change in thinking and argument about federalism.  I then make a couple of more substantive points about how Michael’s vision relates to other prominent positions on federalism’s ends and means.

            I met Michael years ago at an AEI conference that he and Richard Epstein organized on federal preemption of state law.  After trying to defend state autonomy on the academic conference circuit to mostly liberal audiences, I heaved a sigh of relief:  “This will be great—a bunch of conservatives who actually care about states.”  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  Everyone but me was for broad federal preemption, and my pleas that state law should be respected on federalism grounds fell on deaf ears.  Many participants were members of the defense bar, used to asserting federal preemption to quash plaintiffs’ state-law tort suits; their positions reflected their clients’ interests.   That “Big Business federalism” dates to the late nineteenth century, when interstate businesses argued for broad dormant Commerce Clause limits on state regulation, substitution of general commercial law principles for state common law under Swift v. Tyson, and restriction of national regulation under a narrow reading of the affirmative Commerce Clause.

            Michael and Richard provided an intellectual underpinning for these positions transcending material business interests.  The Upside Down Constitution is the culmination of that project.  It takes many of the same positions as Big Business federalists—strong dormant Commerce Clause, broad federal preemption of state law, reject Erie and return to Swift, limited national enumerated powers—but links them to a well-developed theory of “competitive federalism.” Federalism, on this view, is not about protecting the states, empowering the national government, or maintaining some sort of balance; it is about maximizing the welfare and liberty of individual citizens by forcing competition among governments.  One critical contribution is to show how “cartels” of states may use national institutions to suppress interstate competition by imposing a uniform solution congenial to entrenched interests.

            My primary point is simply to appreciate the many positions now enriching our federalism debates and the extent to which they transcend left-right political divisions.  When I started in the federalism business, conservatives and liberals thought they knew where they stood:  Progressives identified federalism with racial segregation and resistance to beneficial regulation, and they lauded national solutions to society’s problems.   Conservatives pushed federalism to limit intrusive national regulation and maintain contact with the Founders’ vision.  Now things are complicated.  Progressives like Heather Gerken argue that state autonomy should be protected in order to allow national minorities to “dissent by deciding,” and Robert Schapiro advocates “Blue State federalism” allowing some jurisdictions to protect human rights more broadly than national norms.  Michael Greve and other libertarians, on the other hand, pair their enthusiasm for limits on Congress’s regulatory powers with broad preemption doctrines limiting state governments’ interference with the free market.  My own work has argued that federalism checks national power and protects state autonomy largely without regard to the political valence of government activity at either level. 
 
            Our federalism debates, in other words, are maturing; they are outgrowing the traditional conservative/liberal dichotomy.  State autonomy is not just for Neanderthals anymore, and conversely people on the political right (like Professor Greve) will often support national power and limits on states.  While scholars who focus on federalism largely recognize this, it remains surprising to many in the broader academy and among reporters who cover the Supreme Court.  It was big news (in law geek land, at least) this past Spring when conservative and libertarian law professors filed a brief arguing that the national Defense of Marriage Act was unconstitutional on federalism grounds—but it shouldn’t have been.  Michael’s fascinating book should help put a last nail in the coffin of the idea that federalism questions have a reliable left-right valence.  We can then get on with a more interesting set of conversations.

            I want to use my remaining space to suggest one such conversation, and in particular to locate Michael’s work on a conceptual map suggested by Albert Hirschman’s seminal work on Exit, Voice, and Loyalty.  Hirschman focused on exit and voice as alternative responses to dissatisfaction among citizens of a jurisdiction or consumers of a product.  One can exit by voting with one’s feet and moving to another jurisdiction or switching to another brand; alternatively, one can exercise voice by complaining to customer service, working for change within the system, and voting with your, well, vote.  Michael’s book is mostly about exit and the salutary effect of mobile citizens choosing jurisdictions with an optimal mix of policies as well as the incentives provided to prudent states by the threat of exit.   Professor Gerken’s work, by contrast, is all about voice—the democracy-enhancing effects of federalism that offer policymaking opportunities to minorities and the mechanisms of “uncooperative federalism” whereby state officials exercise voice within national cooperative federalism schemes.

            Both these accounts have relatively little to say about Hirschman’s third category—loyalty.  For Hirschman, loyalty is the reason that dissatisfied people stick with a jurisdiction or product even though, at the moment, it may not be in their immediate interests to do so.  In this sense, loyalty encourages voice by discouraging immediate exit.  The critical question is whether the states remain viable objects of loyalty in the twenty-first century.  We have come a long way from the days in which Robert E. Lee chose Virginia over the Union, and some prominent scholars—such as Edward Rubin and Malcolm Feeley—deny that modern Americans identify with their states at all.  In any event, federalism theorists emphasizing voice ought to assess how much the dynamics of uncooperative federalism and state-based dissent rely on notions of loyalty to retard exit.  And I hope that Professor Greve will explore the possibility that in a frictionless world of competitive exit, state governments will have insufficient staying power to play their role as effective competitors.   If that turns out to be a real worry, then even competitive federalists will need to attend to the states as states—and possibly, heaven forbid, even notions of balance.

Ernest A. Young  is Alston & Bird Professor of Law at Duke Law School. You can reach him by e-mail at young at law.duke.edu


Our Vacuous Constitutional Text as Under-Specified Agreement

Guest Blogger

Rick Hills

For the symposium on Michael Greve's The Upside Down Constitution (Harvard University Press 2012).

Both "federalism" and "individualism" are vacuous terms, but many of us are aware only of the latter’s emptiness.  We mostly recognize that declaring one’s support for "individual rights" says almost nothing informative about one’s actual beliefs: An "individualist" could be a devotee of Rawls, Hayek, Charles Reich, Bakunin, the American Constitution Society, or the Federalist Society—in short, a follower of just about any political or legal theory one pleases.

 It is different with "federalism":  Scholars and laity alike still write about "federalism" as if it were a unified concept that one could promote "all the way down," protect through the political process, "balance" against nationalism as an undifferentiated quantity, or otherwise treat as a single coherent idea rather than as a congeries of mutually warring ideologies.

To his credit, Michael Greve aims to change this naïve view of "federalism" in The Upside-Down Constitution.  In his telling phrase, ""federalism is a ‘they,’ not an ‘it’" (Page 4).  There are different kinds of "federalism," and they all cannot be defended simultaneously, because they are mutually inconsistent with each other.  Praising them all is saying nothing usefully specific about any.

Greve’s negative case against the general promotion of "federalism" writ large is overwhelmingly powerful.  Unfortunately, Greve does not make an equally powerful argument that the constitutional text points to the more specific version of federalism that he favors, a version that he calls "competitive federalism."  According to Greve, "competitive federalism" is "the Founder’s constitutional child" while cooperative federalism is "a bastard" (page 89).  This claim about constitutional text is unconvincing.  The Constitution’s text, it turns out, is just as vacuous as concepts like individualism and federalism. 
 
This ambiguity is not an accident.   As I suggest below, the constitutional text is an under-specified agreement -- the product of tense collaboration between western agrarians and eastern capitalists who disagreed on precisely the questions that Greve claims the Constitution resolved.  Neither the agrarian nor the pro-corporate contribution to the Constitution was dominant or recessive:  The question of the Constitution’s meaning is a matter of post-enactment nurture, not textual nature.   
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Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Justice Thomas’ Originalism and the Civil War

Joseph Fishkin

Justice Scalia’s majority opinion in yesterday’s Inter Tribal Council case spoke primarily in a textualist idiom: it framed the case in terms of the purportedly simple question of how to read a very small number of words of statutory text; he even makes the obligatory citation to a convenient dictionary definition (of “accept”).  On the constitutional question of whether the NVRA is within Congress’ power under the Elections Clause, Justice Scalia’s method was pretty ecumenical: a brief originalist invocation of some relevant framers, a structural/functional argument, and a pile of relevant precedents.

In contrast, Justice Thomas’ dissent spoke almost entirely in an originalist mode.  It’s true that he briefly responds to Justice Scalia’s claims about precedent, but that’s not where the action is in this dissent.  Primarily, Justice Thomas offers up pages and pages of analysis of the Constitutional Convention and the deliberate choice, in 1787, to leave it up to the states who would be qualified to vote in federal elections (see p.5-8), along with a related argument that the meaning of “Times, Places, and Manner” in 1787 was relatively narrow (see p.8-12)—that is, that the states retained control over most of the rules of federal elections.  From this, Justice Thomas concludes that if the National Voter Registration Act (NVRA) really required all states to “accept” the federal voter registration form as sufficient, then the NVRA would be unconstitutional.  The federal government, on his view, just doesn’t have the power.

Let’s suppose Justice Thomas is right that in 1787, all relevant constitutional actors would have agreed with him that states’ power to set voting qualifications was broad, and the federal role limited.  This is not a big stretch.  After all, as Thomas points out, at the founding “it would have been difficult to convince States to give up their right to set voting qualifications”; he cites Alex Keyssar’s book for a table of “18th- and 19th-century voter qualifications, including property, taxpaying, residency, sex, and race requirements.”  That last one was key.  Let us all concede: in 1787, the Constitution certainly did not give the federal government any power to tell the states they had to let black people vote.  So, based on this history, we can clearly see that the federal role in elections must be narrow, and states’ powers broad.

Really?

You see the problem.  This analysis seems to, shall we say, bypass a few important events that occurred between 1787 and today, events that are highly relevant to the question of the relative balance of power between states and the federal government in regard to the specific area of voting and elections.  One might begin (but not end) with the events of 1861-70.  How, if at all, should such post-1787 constitutional history affect our reading of the Elections Clause, a chunk of Constitutional text that was written in 1787?  This question is just the latest iteration of an important, recurring question that looms behind many originalist arguments—particularly originalist arguments about federalism.


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Competitive Federalism and Collective Action Federalism

Neil Siegel

For the symposium on Michael Greve's The Upside Down Constitution (Harvard University Press 2012).

Mazel Tov to my friend Michael Greve, who has written a comprehensive and insightful book on American constitutional federalism. In The Upside-Down Constitution, he argues that a structural constitutional principle binds together many of the federalism provisions in the U.S. Constitution. According to his theory of competitive federalism, the Constitution requires a system of governance in which states compete with one another for businesses and citizens. Greve does not maintain that the Framers or Founders of 1787 had a commitment to competition among states explicitly in mind. For example, he concedes that his champion, James Madison, missed the crucial importance of mobility to ensuring a competitive constitutional regime. But Greve does argue that a commitment to competition makes the best structural sense of the Constitution that the Framers drafted and the People ratified.

I have advocated a different structural theory of constitutional federalism, one that I have developed with Robert Cooter and refined on my own. The theory of collective action federalism understands the expanse and limits of congressional power in Article I, Section 8, as well as certain limits on state power in Article I, Section 10, and Article IV, in light of the collective action problems that the nation faced under the Articles of Confederation, when Congress lacked the powers to tax, regulate interstate commerce, raise and support a military, and act directly on individuals. The collective action principle distinguishes problems whose solution requires separate action by states from problems whose solution requires collective action by states.

The presence or absence of multi-state collective action problems is central to understanding the scope of federal power in the clauses of Article I, Section 8. These clauses mostly concern collective action problems created by interstate externalities and interstate markets. A prominent example is the Commerce Clause, which empowers Congress to regulate commerce “among the several States” but not commerce that is internal to a state.

Collective action federalism’s structural account of Article I, Section 8 draws substantial support from constitutional text, history, and much judicial precedent. For instance, the Framers understood collective action problems well; indeed, the pervasiveness of such problems facing the states during the Critical Period of the 1780s inspired the Constitutional Convention.

The collective action principle also makes functional sense. It flows directly from the relative advantages of the federal and state governments. Much of what the federal government does better than the states is solve collective action problems that the states cannot deal with as effectively on their own.

What is the relationship between Greve’s theory of competitive federalism and the theory of collective action federalism? There are obvious similarities in interpretive orientation. While Greve and I agree that each constitutional provision possesses its own distinctive meaning, we are both structuralists at heart on matters of constitutional federalism: we inquire into the underlying purposes of many of the Constitution’s federalism-related provisions considered as an architectural whole. We ask how the federalism components of the constitutional machine work or are supposed to work in practice. And in answering that question, we bring to bear tools and insights of modern economic analysis.
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The Business-Friendly Constitution

Guest Blogger

Sandy Levinson

For the symposium on Michael Greve's The Upside Down Constitution (Harvard University Press 2012).


Michael Greve has written a remarkable book that should be read by anyone interested in federalism. He also offers an interesting--and quite persuasive--defense of Swift v. Tyson and subsequent "federal common law" and, therefore, critique of Brandeis's success in Erie v. Tompkins in eliminating the ability to provide a national common law to protect, say, the insurance industry against the vagaries of state regulation.

One must begin, incidentally, by clearly distinguishing legal (or constitutionalized) "federalism" from political preferences or policies that instantiate "decentralization." The distinction is crucial, for it underscores that the former is a "locked-in," judicially enforceable legal norm, whereas the latter is only a discretionary decision--often made, ironically or not, by people at the top of a centralized hierarchy who altogether accurately believe that decentralized policy formation or implementation will bring about desirable results.   See, eg, modern China, which I gather is remarkably decentralized in many important ways though not remotely "federal."

So why have "federalism"?  Many modern defenses sound in the importance of "diversity" or, as in the often fatuous comments of Justices O'Connor or Kennedy, the completely unsubstantiated belief that there is a necessary connection between local autonomy and "liberty"--or, in some versions, self-government.  That is not Greve's tack at all.  This is most certainly not a book written from a civic-republican sensibility.

Instead, he is primarily interested in what might be termed the "political economy" of federalism, by which I mean its essential role, for Greve, in liberating business from oppressive regulation by generating competition among the states to attract business (and by eliminating the ability of states that might well be reflecting the views of local communities to freeze out goods produced by companies in business-friendly states).  This requires vigorous enforcement of the dormant commerce clause, on the one hand, and limitations on congressional power, on the other hand, to impose "cartelization" by a coalition of dominant states who wish to limit the autonomy of outliers.  The key examples of the latter, of course, are Hammer v. Dagenhart and its overruling case of Darby Lumber.  He would also happily constrain the power of states to impose punitive damages on vulnerable business.  He is unabashed and admirably candid in articulating what might ne termed a "Coolidgean view" of the constitutional enterprise, by which the business of Constitutionalism is protecting business.

Many things might be said, of course.  A "liberal" or "progressive" will be tempted to say that Greve is basically indifferent about the prospect (or likelhood) of "races to the bottom," where a relatively few states can stymie widely-desired reforms (such as regulating child labor or other working conditions) by holding out and threatening their progressive counterparts with the loss of their manufacturers, for example, to more states with more "business-friendly" policies.    

That being said, one of the things I found most interesting about the long, consistently illuminating, and well-argued book is its orthogonal relationship with what passes these days for "conservatism." Thus, for example, he is withering in his dismissal of "originalism.". No doubt there are overlaps between the political preferences of Greve and, say, Randy Barnett, but there is no agreement at all on the underlying meta-theory of interpretation.  Nor, as already suggested, does he have any patience for Scalia's hostility to the dormant commerce clause (because it is in fact created nearly out of whole cloth by judges) or his tolerance of state imposition of "disproportionate" punitive damages in the name of state autonomy and restricting judicial power.  Nor does Greve seem to have his heart in defending states' rights to stifle alternatives to heterosexuality.  This is a book--and argument--about liberating business, nothing more, nothing less.

Monday, June 17, 2013

Federal Power over Elections & the Hydraulics of Congressional Power

Joseph Fishkin

Today’s Supreme Court decision in Arizona v. Inter Tribal Council of Arizona offers something important, and surprising, to both sides in the long war over procedural and substantive restrictions on voting in the United States.  The holding of the case seems straightforward and modest: When Congress says every state has to “accept and use” a common, federal voter registration form, which is what it said in the 1993 National Voter Registration Act (the NVRA, the “motor voter” law), that means what it sounds like—the state of Arizona can’t say ‘oh, by the way, in Arizona you also need to submit additional documentation with your form proving you’re a citizen, or we’ll toss out your federal form.’

National Voter Registration Form
Indeed the holding looks even more modest than that: the Court notes that Arizona is free to ask the relevant federal agency, the Election Assistance Commission (EAC) (currently hobbled by Republicans in Congress who won't confirm any Commissioners) to please include its proposed citizenship documentation requirements on the federal form, in special instructions that apply only to Arizona residents; if the agency won’t do that, the Court says, Arizona could then sue.  The Court says very little about how that case might be resolved.  (In a little shout-out to administrative law final exam question writers everywhere, the majority raises but doesn’t answer the question of what admin law has to say about appealing the inaction of an agency that can’t say no because it can’t act at all.  “It is a nice point,” the Court says.)  So on the specific fight at issue in this litigation, the Court basically seems to have kicked the can down the road.  Today’s ruling nonetheless stands for at least the modest proposition that the feds, rather than Arizona, are in charge of the voter registration form and its procedural requirements.  Arizona can’t just impose additional documentation requirements on its own.

However, underneath this simple, modest holding we can see some deep movement in the tectonic plates, some shifts in the balance of federal power under the Elections Clause and under the Reconstruction Powers, that might have the effect of raising the stakes in Shelby County v. Holder (the blockbuster case still outstanding this term, regarding Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act) and other cases about the modern sweep of Congressional power under the Reconstruction Amendments. Congress only has so many different powers, and when you pare back one, you raise the stakes for others.  You might call it the hydraulics of Congressional power.  That’s how this case will really matter in the long run.

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The concept of "surplus" in The Upside Down Constitution

JB

For the symposium on Michael Greve's The Upside Down Constitution (Harvard University Press 2012).

A key concept in Mike Greve's book is the idea of "surplus." This concept helps Greve explain the political motivations for the New Deal and the way that the New Deal inverted the proper form of federal-state relations.

Greve argues that the New Deal was not, as generally believed, an increase in federal power at the expense of the states. Rather, it was an increase in government at all levels. Increases in federal power served the interests of state political elites, because it allowed them to collect more "surplus." As he points out (p. 201), "Far from trampling on the states, the expansion of federal commerce powers enhanced their capacity to collect surplus. Even the Commerce Clause, exhibit A in every account of a supposedly nationalist New Deal, was a state-friendly doctrine and a response to state demand."

The expansion of state capacities during the New Deal lead to what Greve calls "cartel federalism."  As he explains early in the book (p. 4) in this cartel version of federalism states do not lose power vis a vis the federal government. Rather, they actively collude with the federal government to maximize "surplus": States will accept increased federal power "only if the move promises to enhance their surplus capacity—very roughly, their ability to tax citizens in excess of the cost of providing public services."

In competitive federalism, by contrast, "states’ attempts to collect surplus will induce exploited citizens to exit—to 'vote with their feet.' This 'Tiebout competition' will discipline the junior governments in the same way in which market competition disciplines private producers." (p. 7)

Cooperative federalism is good for individual citizens "because it promises to reduce government abuse and exploitation all levels." But it is bad for states (or more correctly, state political elites), because they want to maximize their surplus. So states will use the federal government to form what are in effect regulatory cartels. They will do so in order "to improve their position—the `power, emolument and consequence of the[ir] offices,' in Hamilton’s words; their 'surplus,' in the parlance of public choice economists. Much like private producers in economic markets, states 'as states' seek supracompetitive returns. To that end, they need a central government that stands ready to prevent competition among states and to cartelize the political market." (p. 7)

So far, so good. But what exactly does Greve mean by "surplus?" This idea provides the central motivation in Greve's book for explaining why good states do bad things. However, the word is used in different ways in different parts of the book. As far as I can determine, the term "surplus" refers to three different kinds of phenomena:
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