Balkinization  

Saturday, June 30, 2018

Abandoning Defensive Crouch Liberalism Redux

Mark Tushnet

OK, so everybody ignores the final lines of the infamous post on defensive crouch liberalism. But I still think that abandoning it is a good idea -- and indeed, maybe a better idea now than then. For one thing, maybe the Court's "liberals" will now feel liberated to make utopian rather than pragmatic can-we-get-a-fifth-vote-for-this-today? arguments. Justice Sotomayor's dissents in Schuette and the travel ban case can be models. Again, people will have their favorites, but here are some candidates (not all of which I agree with): Affirmative action is constitutionally required. The Constitution requires that legislative boundaries be drawn by independent districting bodies. Campaign finance regulation aimed at leveling the playing field is at least constitutionally permissible and maybe constitutionally required. And, of course: Redistributive taxation is constitutionally required. (I personally think that opinions in the first three areas would be more intellectually honest than the ones liberals have been writing.)

And, another point that's obvious enough: Progressives ought to start getting their heads around the idea of doing Court-packing when/if they get the chance. (It's not as if Republicans won't [a] think of the idea themselves if liberals keep their mouths shut, or [b] accuse liberals of planning to pack the Court no matter what.) In some quite informal conversations about this, I've heard liberals/progressives say, "But, after 1937 there's a constitutional norm against Court-packing." To which I have a few responses: (1) "Why should Republicans be the only ones allowed to abandon so-called constitutional norms?" Do the game-theoretic analysis and either Democrats are being played for suckers, or they have to do tit-for-tat when they get a chance (per Axelrod). (2) The failure of Court-packing in 1937 was a much closer thing than people think. Right up until the end (with Senate Majority Leader Robinson's death), newspapers were reporting that the plan had a decent chance of passing. (The reason is that Robinson had been able to call in enough personal chits -- which of course went away when he died.) (3) Sure, it would be a big political fight, with the standard chin-pullers who write for the Washington Post and the New York Times asserting -- without evidence -- that "the people" wouldn't stand for this sort of blatant politicizing the Court. I can't bear to address that latter assertion directly, but the responses to both parts are pretty obvious, I think. I say that if the political conditions are favorable, go for it.

And, remember that there still are state courts, which will have -- for a while -- some room for maneuver. (The qualification is there because I have no doubt that there will be creative statutory and constitutional preemption arguments that will be developed to close off state court progressivism.) So support Sam Bagenstos's candidacy for the Michigan Supreme Court.

Friday, June 29, 2018

Constitutional Hardball post below updated to allow comments

Priscilla Smith

A Fascinating Question

Gerard N. Magliocca

Suppose the President nominates Senator Mike Lee of Utah to the Supreme Court. Would Senator Lee be able to vote for himself or must he abstain on that vote? This may matter because the Senate is closely divided and Senator McCain is absent due to illness.

In the past, many senators were named to the Supreme Court. Back then, though, these nominations typically were confirmed by unanimous consent. (Indeed, I believe Senator Hugo Black was the first member of the Senate nominated for the Court when a vote was even held, though I'd have to check that.) I'm not sure after that whether there is any relevant practice, as no sitting Senator has been sent to the Court since 1949.

Some Senators have been nominated for Cabinet posts (like Jeff Sessions last year). On his vote to be Attorney General, he simply voted "present." Does that custom carry over to a Court confirmation?
   

Thursday, June 28, 2018

"Constitutional Super Hardball"

Priscilla Smith

I'm no expert when it comes to matters of Senate procedure, but one thought suggested to me by a learned friend after we heard yesterday that Justice Kennedy was retiring is that Democrats do have a "Trump" card, so to speak, that they could  play to prevent Trump from filling Justice Kennedy's seat before the midterms.  I speak of U.S. Constitution, Article I, Section 5, Clause 1, which provides:
Each House shall be the Judge of the Elections, Returns and Qualifications of its own Members, and a Majority of each shall constitute a Quorum to do Business; but a smaller Number may adjourn from day to day, and may be authorized to compel the Attendance of absent Members, in such Manner, and under such Penalties as each House may provide.
Given the current narrow balance of the Senate, if Senate Democrats orchestrated a walkout (our suggestion would be they all go to Mexico City though Canada might be nicer in the summer months), the Senate would only be able to reach 50 members (because Senator McCain is ill) which is less than “a majority,” and therefore would be unable to “do business” (e.g., act on nominations).  My friend calls this constitutional “super hardball."  I think it's time to play.

Constitutional Political Economy When the Court is to the Right of the Country

Joseph Fishkin

By Joseph Fishkin & William E. Forbath

Most Americans, even well-informed Americans, understand the fight over a new Supreme Court justice largely in terms of certain high-salience issues in constitutional politics such as abortion, affirmative action, the death penalty, or perhaps the religious rights of a conservative Christian to refuse to serve a gay couple. We seem a great distance, in other words, from 1936, when President Roosevelt ran for re-election against the “constitutional-economic philosophy” of the “Nine Old Men” who had recently struck down key New Deal statutes. In 1936, everyone, whatever their views, could see that the constitutional fight ahead had to do with fundamental questions about how the nation’s economy would be organized, and for whose benefit. In Jones & Laughlin in 1937, the Court famously retreated, upholding the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA) (the “Wagner Act”) against a challenge that perfectly encapsulated one side of that debate—a fiercely anti-union and anti-redistributive vision of the demands the constitution places on how we structure economic life.

Those fundamental questions of constitutional political economy were never settled. After 1954, Brown and debates about school busing became the main axis around which our constitutional politics turned; liberals took to defending the Warren Court while conservatives found success running against it; and this pattern has basically continued ever since, despite changes in the mix of salient issues and despite the fact that conservatives, not liberals, have controlled the Court since the mid-1970s. Since that time, American political economy has changed. Inequality has skyrocketed; unions have been ravaged; workers’ share of national income has declined; the cost of health care, higher education, and for that matter, political campaigns have gone through the roof in ways that make access to any of them perilous and unequal. Groups favoring an ever more hierarchical and anti-democratic vision of American political economy, from the Chamber of Commerce to the Koch brothers’ network, have found enormous success not only in the Republican party but also in the courts. In court, instead of building their political-economic vision through the old constitutional claims of property and contract rights and substantive due process of the Lochner era, these groups today use different doctrinal tools, of which perhaps the most powerful is the newly “weaponiz[ed]” First Amendment.* The objectives, and the political-economic stakes, remain the same.

The Roberts-Kennedy Court, as perhaps the first years of the Roberts Court may eventually be known, began to make interventions in our constitutional political economy forceful enough that Americans started to take notice. Citizens United, in particular, drew a powerful public response; it was the first case in a long time that vividly illustrated to large numbers of Americans that the Supreme Court is in the business of deciding profound questions of political economy. When faced with Obamacare, the single largest egalitarian intervention in American economic life in a generation, Chief Justice Roberts stepped back from the brink, issuing some wild Commerce Clause dicta but ultimately upholding the law as an exercise of Congressional power to tax.

Well, buckle your seat belts. Justice Kennedy’s retirement announcement yesterday means that we are on the cusp of a bolder Roberts Court, one poised to push much harder for a neo-Lochnerite individualistic vision of constitutional political economy. The evidence is already before us. Indeed we need look no further than the case decided yesterday, Janus v. AFSCME, the Court’s latest effort to nationalize some states’ anti-union policies that are aimed, undisguisedly, at breaking some of the last bulwarks of workers’ political power. (More about the case below.)

President Trump responded to Janus with predictable bluntness: “Big loss for the coffers of the Democrats!” In this case, his lack of interest in legal doctrine actually brought him fairly close to the core of what the case was about. The remarkable thing is how close the majority opinion, by Justice Alito, itself comes to revealing that this decision’s purpose and effect are essentially about economic and political power. If Justice Kennedy’s successor is anyone from President Trump’s list (outsourced to the Federalist Society) of potential nominees, it will be time for everyone who disagrees with the political-economic course the Court is charting to begin to reorient our constitutional politics. The next decades will be a period of progressive constitutional politics outside, and largely in opposition to, a hostile Court.

Read more »

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Williams v. Mississippi, the Travel Ban and Justice Kennedy's Legacy

Mark Graber



Williams v. Mississippi (1898) provides the better lens for understanding Trump v. Hawaii (2018) than Korematsu v. United States (1944).  Williams was the case in which the Supreme Court gave the green light to southern efforts to create a racial caste system.  Former slaveowners, Confederates and their supporters understood that frank and explicit racial discriminations ran the risk of being declared unconstitutional.  Mild subterfuge became the order of the day.  As John Knox informed the Alabama Constitutional Convention of 1904, their task was “within the limits imposed by the Federal Constitution, to establish white supremacy in this State.”  Rather than declare that persons of color could not vote. Knox and his allies called for constitutional rules that gerrymandered “race-neutral” suffrage requirements to ensure that African-Americans and only African-Americans would be denied the ballot.  These measures included poll taxes, literacy tests and understanding tests, with grandfather clauses that provided that if a person or their ancestor voted before the day slavery was abolished in the state, they would be allowed to continue to exercise voting rights.  A unanimous Supreme Court in Williams sustained such measures.  Justice Joseph McKenna’s majority opinion declared, “the operation of the [Mississippi] Constitution and laws is not limited by their language or effects to one race. They reach weak and vicious white men as well as weak and vicious black men, and whatever is sinister in their intention, if anything, can be prevented by both races by the exertion of that duty which voluntarily pays taxes and refrains from crime.”  As Cunegonda sings in Candide, "if I'm not pure, at least my jewels are." 


The Republican Party, Trump administration and Roberts Court playbook relies on Williams, not Korematsu.  In Korematsu, the Roosevelt administration explicitly declared that they had reasons to discriminate against Japanese-Americans.  The issue was when admitted racial discrimination was constitutional.  In Williams, state lawyers smirked as they told the Supreme Court that state laws were designed to prevent the ignorant and criminals from voting, not persons of color.  Trump lawyers wore the same smirk on their faces when they told the Supreme Court that travel ban was aimed at terrorists, not Muslims, that there was no discrimination going on.  The issue was when the court should find racial discrimination Chief Justice John Roberts and company blandly agreed the purpose of a law was what the lawyer said the purpose was, not the lawmaker.  Just as McKenna insisted that the court should ignore speeches by Knox and others stating that the purpose of voting restrictions was to restore white supremacy, so the conservative majority on the Supreme Court insisted that good justices should ignore Trump’s tweets stating that he had ordered a Muslim ban.  If the politicians were not pure, at least their texts were.   

Roberts Court doctrine, if anything, is far friendlier to racial subterfuge than Fuller Court doctrine.  The Fuller Court in case after case simply declared that persons of color had not proved racial discrimination.  The Roberts Court adopts standards that make proving racial discrimination practically impossible.  Samuel Alito’s opinion in Abbott v. Perez (2018) insisted that because racism is so evil, courts must make every presumption that such luminaries as John Knox and his descendants have not engaged in racist actions, even when they tell us they are (or lower federal courts find clear evidence of discrimination).   White supremacists in the post-bellum South could only dream of such judicial solicitude

Korematsu and Williams frame Justice Anthony Kennedy’s legacy on the Supreme Court.  Kennedy loved liberty and, to a lesser extent, equality in the abstract, but not in their common manifestations.  He would strike down direct challenges to constitutional values, but throughout his tenure was uninterested in combatting efforts to circumvent the rights he celebrated in the abstract.  He might well have dissented in Korematsu, but would have happily joined the majority opinion in Williams.  He, like the Chief Justice, believe that “the best way to stop discriminating is to stop calling discrimination “discrimination.””

Justice Kennedy's Legacy

Mark Tushnet


According to Janus, one factor in determining whether a prior decision should be overruled is that is was "poorly reasoned." I'm tempted to make that the sole "explanation" of this post's title, but to be clear about the point: Romer and Obergefell fit that description (in my view, Lawrence doesn't). The headnote to Janus offers a crisp summary of another factor (the opinion is less crisp, but the headnote is accurate): attempting to salvage a weak precedent by recasting its reasoning. From the perspective of its critics, that describes Roe v. Wade in light of Casey.

The Standing-on-One-Leg Version of Constitutional Law, circa and post-2018

Mark Tushnet

1. Statutes, policies, and practices that strengthen the Republican Party, and those that weaken the Democratic Party, are constitutionally permissible.
2. Statutes, policies, and practices that strengthen the Democratic Party are unconstitutional.
3. If leading Republicans are indifferent about a statute, policy, or practice, and leading Democrats favor it, and if the statute, policy, or practice does not strengthen the Democratic Party, the statute, policy, or practice might or might not be constitutionally permissible.
4. If leading Republicans are indifferent and leading Democrats oppose a statute, policy, or practice, it might be unconstitutional.
All the rest is commentary.

Truly the Roberts Court

Gerard N. Magliocca

With the announcement of Justice Kennedy's retirement today, Chief Justice Roberts is primed to become the most powerful occupant of that office since Earl Warren. We do not know, of course, who will replace Justice Kennedy. (Personally, I would love to see Kevin Newsom, just recently confirmed to the Eleventh Circuit, get the nod.) But there is a strong likelihood that the Chief Justice will be the swing vote as well as the head of the conservative bloc.

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Why was Korematsu wrong?

Joseph Fishkin

Amid the general horror show today at the Supreme Court (sequel tomorrow), one small point that could easily get lost, but should not, is the majority’s effort in the travel ban case to distinguish Korematsu

Today the majority took the interesting and, I think, important step of officially repudiating Korematsu. The Court held that that case was “gravely wrong the day it was decided” and furthermore “overruled in the court of history” (p.38) (a court whose jurisdiction it is at least interesting to hear the current five-Justice majority acknowledge).  Chief Justice Roberts, writing for the majority, also opines that Korematsu has “nothing to do with” the travel ban case before them.  That is putting it awfully strongly.  Why exactly are the two cases so different?  It seems to me that there are four ways the Court might try to distinguish Korematsu from today’s decision:

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Carpenter's Curiosities (and its Potential to Unsettle Longstanding Fourth Amendment Doctrines)

Marty Lederman

Not surprisingly, there are already a slew of reactions to the Court's landmark decision on Friday in Carpenter v. United StatesMost observers understandably have focused on two major aspects of the ruling:

(i) The Court held that customers have at least some "reasonable expectation of privacy" in the cell-site location information (CSLI) records that their service providers maintain about them--a new "exception" to the so-called "third-party doctrine," and thus a repudiation of the principle the Court announced in Smith v. United States that “a person has no legitimate expectation of privacy in information he voluntarily turns over to third parties.”  (Such a categorical principle was obviously vulnerable and inadequate from the outset--indeed, it can't be reconciled with the landmark Katz holding itself, in which he Court found that Katz had at least some reasonable expectation of privacy in information that he "voluntarily" shared with a third party, namely, his bookie.)  After the Court's decision in Carpenter, the fact that one has shared information with a third party is relevant to the Fourth Amendment analysis but it does not, in and of itself, resolve the question of whether an expectation of privacy in that information is legitimate, and thus subject to some Fourth Amendment solicitude, including in cases where the state directs the third party to produce the records. 

(ii) Carpenter also confirms the Court's recent willingness to shape its Fourth Amendment doctrine to address the extraordinary new technological surveillance capabilities of the state--in particular, its ability to glean huge amounts of detailed information about individuals, without significant cost, using computer searches of now-ubiquitous databases that track our every transaction, communication, and movement.  (In this respect the best early take, emphasizing the possible implications of Carpenter for "bulk" foreign intelligence surveillance collections, is this piece by David Kris.  [UPDATE:  And this post by my colleague Paul Ohm is also must reading.])

Those aspects of the decision are certainly momentous, but they don't begin to tell the whole story.  Indeed, at least on my preliminary first reading, Carpenter appears to be even more extraordinary and groundbreaking than the initial reports have suggested, for at least three reasons.

1.  It's actually a 6-3 decision--and Justice Gorsuch's rationale might be even broader than the Chief Justice's


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The Glaring Omission in the Chief Justice's Opinion

Gerard N. Magliocca

Whatever you think of the Chief Justice's opinion in Trump v. Hawaii. there is one obvious problem with his analysis. There is no reference to Masterpiece Cakeshop. The dissents both discuss the case, which is clearly relevant to the Establishment Clause claim. The Chief Justice decided to pretend that the case was not decided a few weeks ago.

In a federal court of appeals, this sort of omission would amply support a petition for rehearing pointing out that the Court overlooked a pertinent authority in rendering its judgment. Once in a blue moon, the Supreme Court grants a petition for rehearing. This case will not come out any differently if they grant one in Trump, but the challengers deserve a fair assessment of the relevant case law.

Sunday, June 24, 2018

Two Different Constitutional Ideas

Gerard N. Magliocca

"We cannot allow all of these people to invade our Country. When somebody comes in, we must immediately, with no Judges or Court Cases, bring them back from where they came. Our system is a mockery to good immigration policy and Law and Order. Most children come without parents . . ."

President Donald Trump (June 24, 2018)

"Is it not essential to the unity of the Government and the unity of the people that all persons, whether citizens or strangers, within this land, shall have equal protection in every State in this Union in the rights of life and liberty and property?"

Congressman John Bingham (February 28, 1866)

Friday, June 22, 2018

Draft Paper on the Equal Rights Amendment

Gerard N. Magliocca

Here is my draft article on the status of the proposed Equal Rights Amendment to the Constitution. I welcome any and all comments.

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Data Nationalization in the Shadow of Social Credit Systems

Guest Blogger

Frank Pasquale

The political economy of digitization is a fraught topic. Scholars and policymakers have disputed the relative merits of centralization and decentralization. Do we want to encourage massive firms to become even bigger, so they can accelerate AI via increasingly comprehensive data collection, analysis, and use? Or do we want to trust-bust the digital economy, encouraging competitors to develop algorithms that can “learn” more from less data? I recently wrote on this tension, exploring the pro’s and con’s of each approach.

However, there are some ways out of the dilemma. Imagine if we could require large firms to license data to potential competitors in both the public and private sectors. That may sound like a privacy nightmare. But anonymization could allay some of these concerns, as it has in the health care context. Moreover, the first areas opened up to such mandated sharing may not even be personal data. Sharing the world's best mapping data beyond the Googleplex could unleash innovation in logistics, real estate, and transport. Some activists have pushed to characterize Google's trove of digitized books as an essential facility, which it would be required to license at fair, reasonable, and non-discriminatory (FRAND) rates to other firms aspiring to categorize, sell, and learn from books. Fair use doctrine could provide another approach here, as Amanda Levendowski argues.

In a recent issue of Logic, Ben Tarnoff has gone beyond the essential facilities argument to make a case for nationalization. Tarnoff believes that nationalized data banks would allow companies (and nonprofits) to “continue to extract and refine data—under democratically determined rules—but with the crucial distinction that they are doing so on our behalf, and for our benefit.” He analogizes such data to natural resources, like minerals and oil. Just as the Norwegian sovereign wealth fund and Alaska Permanent Fund socialize the benefits of oil and gas, public ownership and provision of data could promote more equitable sharing of the plenitude that digitization ought to enable.

Many scholars have interrogated the data/oil comparison. They usually focus on the externalities of oil use, such as air and water pollution and climate change. There are also downsides to data's concentration and subsequent dissemination. Democratic control will not guarantee privacy protections. Even when directly personally identifiable information is removed from databases, anonymization can sometimes be reversed. Both governments and corporations will be tempted to engage in “modulation”—what Cohen describes as a pervasive form of influence on the beliefs and behaviors of citizens. Such modulation is designed to “produce a particular kind of subject[:] tractable, predictable citizen-consumers whose preferred modes of self-determination play out along predictable and profit-generating trajectories.” Tarnoff acknowledges this dark possibility, and I'd like to dig a bit deeper to explore how it could be mitigated.

Read more »

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Cultural contradictions of capitalism II

Sandy Levinson

Ross Douthat has a very interesting column in today's Times (online) noting the transformation in views especially by feminists with regard to the use of surrogates to carry children.  Without expressing my own view on the merits, I do find it a wonderful illustration of Bell's (and Deneen's) overall point that the power of libertarian-capitalist ideology, even for people who undoubtedly identify themselves as one the left, does indeed lead to a lot that was formerly solid melting into air.  Not surprisingly, a number of the hostile comments to Douthat's column denounced him for his failure to respect the capacity of women to make autonomous choices on how to use their bodies, including, of course, in effect renting them out to more affluent persons and couples.  All we have to do, of course, is to define exactly what constitute the conditions for "autonomous choice," as Kanye West recently reminded us (with stunning ineptitude).  The one thing we can be relatively certain about is that the judiciary will provide almost no help, since all American lawyers are socialized into a theory of contract that basically ignores, save, at most for a day, the problems of "duress" or "unconscionability" in favor of a model of arms-length bargaining and contractual freedom, as with, say, plea bargaining.


Artificial Sovereigns: A Quasi-Constitutional Moment for Tech?

Guest Blogger

K. Sabeel Rahman

Consider the following developments:
  • In recent weeks, the explosive revelations about Cambridge Analytica and its systemic data-mining of Facebook profiles has cast into relief the way in which our contemporary digitized public sphere is not a neutral system of communication but rather a privately built and operated system of mass surveillance and content manipulation.
  • Meanwhile, Alphabet has announced that its subsidiary, Sidewalk Labs, will take over management of a major redevelopment of part of Toronto’s waterfront, in an effort to build from the ground up a modern “smart city.”
  • These developments come amidst the longer-term development of new forms of technological transformations of our political economy, from the rise of Amazon to its position as the modern infrastructure for the retail economy, to the ways in which technology is transforming the nature of work and the social safety net.


There has been a growing sense of concern about the twin crises of twenty-first-century democracy on the one hand and of the growing problems of inequality and insecurity on the other. Technological change is at the heart of both of these transformations. Technological change alters the distribution and dynamics of political and economic power, creating new forms of “functional sovereignty”—state-like powers concentrated in entities and systems that are not subject to the institutional and moral checks and balances that we associate with the exercise of public power. Such arbitrary power represents a kind of quasi-sovereignty that, left unchecked, poses a threat of domination.

The rich scholarly debate on law and technology has surfaced a range of approaches for addressing some of these concerns, from legal standards for privacy and data use to antitrust and public utility regulation, and more. These proposals and interventions can be reframed as part of a broader challenge of defusing the threat of domination created by these technological systems. Regulating and responding to new technologies and modern forms of economic and political power thus represent a variation on familiar questions of public law and constitutional design: how to structure the exercise of potentially arbitrary, state-like power, rendering it contestable, and therefore legitimate.

Read more »

Monday, June 18, 2018

The Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism

Sandy Levinson

I mentioned in a previous post some of my reactions to Patrick Deneen's interesting book Why Liberalism Failed.  I noted that many of his arguments are evocative of earlier critiques of liberalism written in the 1960s and early '70s.  One of the most important of those critiques was Daniel Bell's "The Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism."  As Marx had noted, one effect of capitalism was to disrupt settled societies, to "make all that is solid melt into air."  The decidedly anti-Marxist Joseph Schumpeter emphasized the importance of "creative destruction" in the capitalist project, i.e., to destroy existing industries and the communities that might have been based upon them upon the discovery of new and better mousetraps.  Although it is not my primary interest in this post, I do note a story in today's New York Times that emphasizes, altogether accurately, the extent to which  Donald Trump is engaging in the political economy of nostalgia, trying to restore industries, most obviously the coal industry, that will never ever make a come back because it has in fact been creatively destroyed by other sources of energy.  Texas, for example, is now the largest source of wind power in the US, and one finds very few Texans, other than the hapless Rick Perry, who believes that valuable dollars should be wasted on trying to revive a dying coal industry.  One might make much the same argument about steel.  But, as I say, that's not the primary focus of this comment.

Instead, I am completely fascinated by the column in Friday's Wall Street Journal, part of its regular series "Houses of Worship," on various religions in America.  The Journal, of course, is to be commended for taking an interest in American religious communities.  This weeks column, by Kim Woodward Osterholzer, is about "Faith and Family Among the Amish."  She herself is a home-birth midwife, now living in Colorado, having earlier lived for nine years in the Amish country in Pennsylvania.  She scarcely presents an attractive picture of the Amish; it is very different, for example, from the high-romanticism offered by Chief Justice Burger in Yoder.  Thus she writes that she "found barely functional homes filled with a bustling, Spartan folk wearing patched and sweat-stined clothes.  I was taken aback by the rough hands, the weather-battered faces, the round and weary shoulders, the bare and blackened feet, the swollen ankles, and the legs stranger with bulging veins.  I glanced when I saw how many young families lived in barns, shed and the basements of partly constructed homes....  I learned to regard with nonchalance the rolls of flypaper that dangled from the ceilings.  After a while, I hardly noticed the mice scampering under doors and along the edges of baseboards,,,, "  She also describes herself as "unfazed by the severity of the religion," which is structured around following the Ordnung, as interpreted by a bishop and two local ministers, "who are selected by lottery and serve for life while keeping their day jobs."  Perhaps needless to say, "women are never allowed to preach."

Lest one think that the column is a criticism of this completely totalitarian enclave of those who might be described by the unsympathetic as religious fanatics, the author in fact ends up with a tribute to what she saw.  "The Amish are a God-fearing, family-centered people.  They work hard, but they also relax and play.  Their lives are so untarnished by the broader culture that to be with them is refreshing...  The fruit of the Amish way i\of life is that it keeps its people better focused on what truly matters--faith and family.  They intimately understand the resilience and fragility of life and the certainty of death.  It keeps them close to the earth, in sync with its rhythms.  Whenever I departed from a visit, I would ask myself:  Do we really need the fear of hell driving us before we can make time to be with one another and enjoy the magnificent world God created for us?"  I suspect that one might find some similar elegies about some Hasidic Jews, who equally withdraw from the world and do everything they can to make sure that their children are indoctrinated into the ostensible virtues of the integral community and rendered basically unfit to exist in the outside world.

Deneen is Catholic, so I doubt that he would be completely taken with these descendants of German Anabaptists.  But they do instantiate the kind of small integral communities whose destruction by liberalism--defined either as the strong consolidated state favored by contemporary progressives or the buccaneer capitalism embraced by libertarians--he laments and seemingly wishes to return to.  There is an obvious problem, though.  If a significant number of Americans were persuaded even that milder versions of Amish austerity were desirable, American capitalism would collapse.  The Wall Street Journal devotes itself to covering those whose lives are devoted to extending the reach of capitalism, including, all importantly, the consumer-oriented societies that define success as owning the next big thing, whether the latest number IPhone or expensive watches or whatever.

I suspect that the Wall Street Journal would be hesitant to open its columns to serious hippies, assuming any are left, who call for the rejection of consumption in favor of the simple life.  Ordinary radicals, who might believe that everyone deserves an equal opportunity to buy Mercedes etc. are far less dangerous to the overall capitalist ethos than someone who preaches the virtue of asceticism, as do the Amish.  So why do they publish the column, and its conclusion?  I suspect it is because they recognize that almost literally none of their readers are likely to find asceticism a genuine virtue.  The Amish play the function of exotic animals at the zoo.  We can feel better about ourselves for tolerating them, but only so long as they do not in fact present a genuine threat to a society built on almost everything the Amish reject.

But Bell wasn't really concerned about the Amish. Rather, he noted that capitalism depends on the destruction, creative or otherwise, of existing ways of life.  My home town of Hendersonville, North Carolina is now a quaint tourist town instead of a community of local small businesses, etc, (where I worked when I was growing up, beginning when I was a ten-year old), because of Walmart, etc.  Donald Trump promises to restore communities in West Virginia and Kentucky that were built around coal, or Gary, Indiana, built around steel.  But, tellingly, he isn' promising to go after Walmart and other denizens of modern American capitalism that have destroyed many small communities.  (Nor do I necessarily think he should.  That, too, is the topic for other conversations.)

The Journal instantiates the most bizarre feature of the contemporary Right, i.e., the alliance between religious conservatives, many of whom genuinely yearn for community, and the agents of American capitalism who are completely and utterly indifferent about the consequences of their prosperity.  Think only of Facebook in this regard.  And, of course, the Journal adamantly supports the further destruction of labor unions, a destruction accurately credited by Stephen Brill in his own book Tail  Spin, as one of the sources of American decline over the past half century.  Opioids and suicide are genuine problems of public health, and they are in part a response to the "creative destruction" of modern capitalism.   




Hjalmar Schacht and Mitch McConnell

Mark Graber


Eugene Davidson’s, The Trial of the Germans was one of the most memorable books I read as a teenager.  I was particularly troubled by the chapter on Hjalmar Schacht.  Schacht played a vital role helping the Nazi party revive the German economy during the 1930s. Although not a member of the Nazi Party, he served as Hitler’s Minister of Economics and main economic advisor during the years before World War II.  His behavior was typical of many German industrialists, who saw the Nazi Party as a vehicle for their desired economic policies that they could control before the worst of Nazi rhetoric was realized.  Schacht was acquitted at Nuremburg because he played no official role in the German government after 1939 and wound up in a concentration camp during the last year of the war.

Schacht came to mind during Aziz Huq’s terrific presentation at the annual meeting of the Law and Society Association.  Huq’s focus, which is in part the focus of his important new book with Tom Ginsburg, How to Save a Constitutional Democracy, was on constitutional near misses.  His argument is that at crucial points the conservative and center-right politicians who initially allied with a political leader who exhibits limited respect for the constitutional rules of the game realize that they cannot control that leader.  They then seek an alliance with the center and center-left in order to preserve the constitutional order.  When major industrialists and their political supporters realize relatively early that they cannot control the demagogue and compromise with their political rivals, the slide towards authoritarian reverses.  When they follow Hjalmar Schacht's example because they and their donors are profiting from some of the demagogue's policies, constitutional democracies collapse.

The contemporary American analogues to Hjalmar Schacht are, of course, Mitch McConnell, Paul Ryan, their political allies and donors.  McConnell and Ryan are no more Nazis or fascists than Schacht.  Like Schacht, they are willing to empower an authoritarian figure because they believe they will get desired economic policies (and pro-life judges) in the short run and be able to control the demagogue in the long run.  As was the case long before Schacht fell from power, the evidence is now clear that McConnell is failing in his attempt to be the real power behind the throne.  Every month brings more evidence that Republicans when faced with the choice will side with the authoritarian demagogue whose bigotry is increasingly unrestrained than with the conservative businessman who needs a tax cut because annual incomes in the millions of dollars are insufficient.   The question is whether the United States is in 1934, when conservatives jumping ship might have prevented untold human misery (at the costs of some profits) or 1939, when Schacht could be pushed out of the Nazi regime without any political consequences.

Nonnonjusticiability

Joseph Fishkin

If you read Justice Kennedy’s opinion in Vieth in 2004 together with the Court’s opinions this morning in Gill v. Whitford and Benisek, at some point it begins to become apparent that although everyone on both sides of the sharply pitched debate about the constitutionality of partisan gerrymandering is desperate for a victory in the Supreme Court, Justice Kennedy is strongly disinclined to provide such a victory to anybody. His dogged insistence on finding creative ways to avoid deciding these cases, even at significant cost to doctrinal coherence, at some point begins to suggest the possibility that his actual preference is for what we might call nonnonjusticiability: the vaguely Schrodingeresque state of affairs in which the legally correct answer to the question of whether such a constitutional claim can proceed or is dead is “maybe.”  The Court could continue to hold partisan gerrymandering claims nonnonjusticiable, if it wishes, right up until the 2020 Census, a state of affairs that would be unlikely to strike too much fear into the hearts of increasingly confident partisan gerrymanderers, with their increasingly impressive data and software. But, maybe just a little teensy bit of fear. After all, you never know when a nonnonjusticiable claim might suddenly get justiched—that’s the nature of nonnonjusticiability. Perhaps we should take seriously the possibility that this teensy amount of fear is the precise amount Justice Kennedy views as optimal. Anyway, today’s decisions might at least permit a little bit of development of partisan gerrymandering doctrine in some lower courts (development that often tends to be stunted in redistricting law by the special three-judge court system).

However, we should not be deceived by the apparent breadth of support for the disposition of the two cases this morning. There is only one Justice who clearly believes in the nonnonjusticiability of partisan gerrymandering, and he is the subject of endless (and not especially informed) retirement speculation. The surprising conclusion follows that Justice Kennedy still has a chance in June 2018 (the month is young!) to conclusively determine the future of partisan gerrymandering in the United States. Today, he led the court in a new round of creative efforts to hold it nonnonjusticiable. But on the last day of the term, or any time he likes, he could choose to retire. For him to do so while President Trump is in office, especially with the Senate in Republican hands, would be a terrible thing for the future of the United States for a variety of reasons I won’t enumerate. But anyway, to the extent that we assume that even Supreme Court justices intend the reasonably foreseeable consequences of their deeds, we can say that, if he retires now, Justice Kennedy would be affirmatively and firmly deciding, by so doing, to have the Court greenlight partisan gerrymandering, holding that challenges to it are nonjusticiable after all. Justice Kennedy’s hands would look perfectly clean; he would be safely retired and would not have to do the deed. But just as personnel is policy, in this case the fault lines on the Court are so clear that personnel is law. When Justice Kennedy wrote his last major decision-not-to-decide this issue in Veith in 2004, Justice Scalia characterized his vote as a “reluctant fifth vote for nonjusticiability.” I disagree with that characterization, but in light of this morning’s decisions I would characterize any decision by Justice Kennedy to retire this year (or next year, if the Senate remains in Republican hands) as a clear indication that ultimately, his preference is that the Court should hold that no partisan gerrymander is going to be struck down by a federal court, and that he would prefer to have this decided by his retirement instead of being decided by his vote.

Today’s cases of course leave open the possibility that a future Supreme Court will actually follow the lead of some lower courts in striking down a partisan gerrymander as unconstitutional. The Court’s ruling in Gill v. Whitford will somewhat complicate the evaluation of such claims in the future, focusing attention on exactly the place (individual districts) where the harm is the least clear. But, perhaps Justice Kagan’s concurrence for four Justices is correct, and all the Court is doing here is introducing an oddly formalistic little threshold requirement that will drop away once plaintiffs prove they satisfy it—or perhaps even as soon as the plaintiffs say “First Amendment” really loudly and clearly (see part II of her concurrence). Time will tell. For now, we’ve got nonnonjusticiability, the box is safely closed, and a retirement announcement is the only thing left this term that can open it.  If that announcement comes, it will alter the meaning of this morning’s decisions considerably.

Friday, June 15, 2018

Police Surveillance Machines: A Short History

Guest Blogger

Elizabeth Joh

            The year 2015 witnessed a dramatic rise in demands for police surveillance machines.  After a number of widely shared incidents of police violence against often unarmed civilians, public protests and media attention led to calls for the adoption of surveillance machines by the police.  Advocates of surveillance machines, including the family of Michael Brown, argued that these technologies would increase transparency and accountability surrounding police interactions with civilians by collecting and preserving data for public review.  Indeed, the most contentious police-civilian interactions often came down to public disputes as to the alleged threat posed by the civilian, versus the propriety of the police response. Surveillance machines promised a technological layer of accountability by rendering these hidden interactions public. Now that they are being implemented, however, the political economy of police technologies raises new concerns about concentrated private power, consumer platform protection, and adequate regulation of data in the future of policing.
            The structure of American policing--essentially local--dictated how the adoption of surveillance machines would unfold.  In 2015, the federal government offered millions in grant funding for local agencies to purchase their own surveillance machines.  These federal grants required that police agencies address substantive concerns--including “privacy considerations” --in their grant funding, although without detailed specifications. That funding, along with national attention to the problem, spurred police agencies across the country to adopt surveillance machine pilot projects.  Facing considerable public pressure, police chiefs around the country were understandably eager to demonstrate their willingness to engage in reforms with a tangible and technological solution. Hence, most large agencies surveyed in 2016 stated they intended to or already had adopted a surveillance machine program.
            While speedy adoption of these machines demonstrated a visible commitment to reform, it unfolded in a manner that gives private corporate players significant power over law enforcement data, and, by extension, the very nature of policing. In essence, public police agencies are customers in highly concentrated technology markets. In the case of surveillance machines, police agencies have faced limited options from vendors, possessed little guidance about desirable design features to request, and few incentives to establish rules or guidelines about their use prior to purchase. With surveillance machines, procurement was itself policymaking for a democratically accountable institution.
            First, the surveillance machine market offered too little consumer choice to police agencies.  One company, Axon, is the dominant market player.  Axon has relied on long established relationships with most of the country’s 18,000 police agencies it had secured by acting as the primary vendor of electronic force compliance instruments.  Those established commercial relationships reduced competition from smaller surveillance machine companies, and favored Axon. Investigative journalists, for instance, uncovered several instances of Axon encouraging police agencies to enter into no-bid contracts.
            Second, because police agencies are consumers, the design specifications of the surveillance machines they use are dictated by the vendor.  In surveillance products, accountability and privacy are often matters of design.  Whether, for example, a surveillance machine can record surreptitiously or not is a matter of product design.  So too is the choice as to whether the person using the surveillance machine possesses the ability--and thus the discretion--to turn it on or off.  The same is true of future applications for surveillance machines, such as facial recognition technology. When the market is dominated by one company, customers--in this case police agencies--have little choice and input into the final product procured.
            Third, in the example of surveillance machines, adoption came with little thought or deliberation regarding rulemaking over their use.  Police agencies purchased them to demonstrate their commitment to reform, but these machines alone would never guarantee police accountability.  Their service to democratic policing would be as good or as bad as the rules governing them.  In the rush for federal funding, some agencies adopted rules, but a great many were slow to adopt clear guidelines, and some have still failed to do so. The rush to adopt surveillance machines without uniform or consistent adoption of best practices has left their promise of accountability and transparency ill-served.  While individual agency rules vary considerably, in most states, the data generated by police surveillance machines are not presumptive public records.  A non-exhaustive list of other issues that either vary widely or have been scarcely addressed include: data use and access rules, inclusion of biometric identification tools, and recording of activity protected by the First Amendment.
            Furthermore, because both advocates and the police characterized surveillance machines as a response to the specific problem of violent police-civilian encounters, the surveillance machine experience obscured the nature of the technology itself.  Police agencies were purchasing and investing in a platform, not just individual machines.  For example, in April 2017, Axon offered every police agency a free year of surveillance machines for their officers; after a year, any dissatisfied agency could return the machines, no questions asked. That offer lay bare the vendor’s aims.  Few profits arise from individual surveillance machines. Rather, real profits lie in police agency subscriptions to the data platform.  This includes not just cloud data storage, but also the software management systems that allow agencies to permit secure access, to tag metadata, and for services like redaction and transcription.  The company that dominates three quarters of the market is not in the surveillance machine business; it is in the police platform business. And Axon expects to introduce automated report writing and facial recognition technology through its platform to its police customers in the future.
            An Apple-like platform to address a host of police technology needs is a difficult offer to refuse.   Most police departments are ill-equipped to address technology matters internally, and few have the capability to store securely the petabytes of data generated by their officers’ surveillance machines. As implemented currently, Axon’s platform dominates.
            As that platform develops in sophistication, we are likely to see the increasingly uneven and invisible burdens of surveillance on the public.  To be poor, black, and brown has historically meant being subjected to heightened police surveillance.  Surveillance machines both magnify and hide that power.  When applied to surveillance machines, artificial intelligence applied to big data can help the police generate inferences. A facial recognition system coupled with geofencing, for example, can alert the police to people who have left their neighborhoods and fit a suspicious profile hit list.
            Overenforcement is also a likely unanticipated consequence of widespread surveillance machine adoption. This can happen in two ways. Surveillance machines equipped with artificial intelligence might be used to automate enforcement of certain offenses. Alternatively, officers may feel nudged to enforce the law more frequently with a surveillance machine watching their own work.  All of this data is likely to be generated in places where human officers have historically had a heavy presence.
            Police surveillance machines are also a matter of employment privacy for police officers, who might change their behavior in the presence of surveillance.  This accounts for some of the early and vocal resistance to surveillance machine adoption by some police unions.  The lack of clarity about use rules further increased tensions between police management and labor about worker privacy. Some of this resistance has faded, however, as more officers have grown to understand that surveillance machines are useful as evidence gathering tools and as countermeasures against accusations of police misconduct. 
            These features of our experience with surveillance machine adoption have led to many foreseeable consequences that hold lessons about surveillance technology markets, private power, and police reform.  However, these questions of private power, police agencies as consumers, surveillance platforms, and limited public access and input are not limited to this experience.  Many new police technologies will arise in the same way. If we are to effectively use technologies to bring about a more just law enforcement system, we must design police systems of procurement and use in a manner that emphasizes democratic, not private, control.  Our experience with police body cameras provides us with a cautionary tale.

            Elizabeth Joh is Professor of Law at U.C. Davis School of Law. You can follow her on Twitter at @elizabeth_joh.

           



Thursday, June 14, 2018

Happy Flag Day

Gerard N. Magliocca

Today marks the 75th anniversary of the Supreme Court's opinion in West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette, which remains Justice Robert H. Jackson's rhetorical masterpiece:

Struggles to coerce uniformity of sentiment in support of some end thought essential to their time and country have been waged by many good as well as by evil men. Nationalism is a relatively recent phenomenon but at other times and places the ends have been racial or territorial security, support of a dynasty or regime, and particular plans for saving souls. As first and moderate methods to attain unity have failed, those bent on its accomplishment must resort to an ever-increasing severity. As governmental pressure toward unity becomes greater, so strife becomes more bitter as to whose unity it shall be. Probably no deeper division of our people could proceed from any provocation than from finding it necessary to choose what doctrine and whose program public educational officials shall compel youth to unite in embracing. Ultimate futility of such attempts to compel coherence is the lesson of every such effort from the Roman drive to stamp out Christianity as a disturber of its pagan unity, the Inquisition, as a means to religious and dynastic unity, the Siberian exiles as a means to Russian unity, down to the fast failing efforts of our present totalitarian enemies. Those who begin coercive elimination of dissent soon find themselves exterminating dissenters. Compulsory unification of opinion achieves only the unanimity of the graveyard.

ACA's Former Foes Agree DOJ/Texas Have Severability Wrong - An Unusual Amicus Brief That Says a Lot about the Case's Lack of Merit

Abbe Gluck

Today, five scholars who have often opposed one another publicly about the Affordable Care Act--Jonathan Adler, Nick Bagley, Ilya Somin, Kevin Walsh and I--filed a brief together in the district court of Texas, opposing the lawsuit brought by a group of states to, once again, strike the entire Affordable Care Act down.  This is the same lawsuit the United States last week shockingly declined to defend.  The unholy alliance, so to speak, of formal opponents, should be powerful evidence--no matter how you feel about the ACA itself-- of how wrong on the law the Texas/DOJ argument is.
 
The crux of the case--and the focus of our brief--is severability; the question whether, if one provision of the ACA is struck down, the rest of the 2000-page law should fall as well. Texas argues that, by eliminating the tax penalties associated with the insurance-purchase mandate, Congress in its 2017 tax reform law eliminated the constitutional basis for the mandate (remember, Chief Justice Roberts construed the mandate as a tax in NFIB).  The states therefore argue that the court should strike the mandate from the statute and--here is the kicker--kill the rest of the statute with it. DOJ, in refusing to defend, argues that while much of the statute could stand, the key insurance reforms that Congress left in the ACA when it eliminated the tax penalties --namely the requirements that insurers must accept everyone regardless of health condition at relatively equal rates-- should go with the mandate in the name of the severability doctrine. 
 
This, as our brief argues, is a gross and dangerous misuse of severability. The five of us have disagreed about many aspects of the ACA, including its constitutionality, its statutory interpretation, its merits as policy and there are many things we still don't agree about.  But the misappropriation of the severability doctrine here is significant enough for us all to agree to leave those questions on which we have differences unanswered for now to set the doctrinal record straight.
 
An unbroken line of Supreme Court cases for decades makes crystal clear that the touchstone of severability is congressional intent. That is, what would Congress had done had it known a court would eliminate a provision of the statute? Of course this question is silly and irrelevant in this context because it was Congress, not a court, that did the eliminating itself. Moreover, in doing so, Congress expressly left the rest of the statute standing--including those key insurance protections the United States argues should fall in the name of congressional intent. Game over. No guessing on loose conceptions of congressional intent is needed when we have duly enacted statutory text answering the question. 
 
The Texas/DOJ position asks the court to effectively usurp legislative power and substitute its own policy views of the ACA rather than applying duly enacted law. Such a decision would be dangerous for future cases and muddy the severability doctrine-- a doctrine based on separation of powers--and turn it into a tool of judicial activism. 
 
I was honored to be among these scholars of different viewpoints who came together in the name of the law. 
 
A taste of the brief, which you can read in full here:
 
The cornerstone of severability doctrine is congressional intent. Under current Supreme Court doctrine, a court must offer its best guess on what Congress would have wanted for the rest of the statute if a single provision is rendered unenforceable. But this guessing-game inquiry does not come into play where, as here, Congress itself has essentially eliminated the provision in question and left the rest of a statute standing. In such cases, congressional intent is clear—it is embodied in the text and substance of the statutory amendment itself. Under these circumstances, a court’s substitution of its own judgment for that of Congress would be an unlawful usurpation of congressional power and violate basic black-letter principles of severability. Yet that is what the plaintiff States and the United States invite this Court to do.


Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Technology, Political Economy, and the Role(s) of Law

Guest Blogger


Julie E. Cohen

[This post is adapted from Part I of my book manuscript, Between Truth and Power: The Legal Construction of Informational Capitalism (OUP, forthcoming).]

Legal scholars who work on information policy tend to focus on questions about how existing doctrinal and regulatory frameworks should apply to information-era business models and online behavior, perhaps undergoing some changes in coverage or emphasis along the way. They have asked, in other words, how law should respond to the changes occurring all around it. For the most part, they have not asked the broader, reflexive questions about how core legal institutions are already evolving in response to the ongoing transformation in our political economy—questions about how disputes over information are reshaping the enterprise of law at the institutional level. That is a mistake. Information-economy actors do not simply act in markets; they also mobilize legal tools and institutions to advance their various goals. Through that process, legal institutions gradually become reoptimized for the new roles they are called upon to play.

Consider two historical examples: As political economist Karl Polanyi explained, Britain’s transition from an agrarian system of political economy to an industrial and capitalist system involved large-scale appropriation of resources but also entailed equally large-scale conceptual and organizational shifts. Over time, the basic factors of industrial production—labor, land, and money—were reconceptualized as commodities, while at the same time patterns of barter and exchange became detached from local communities and reembedded in the constructed mechanism of “the market.” The movement to industrial capitalism also both relied on and transformed existing legal institutions. Processes of enclosure of common lands, appropriation of other natural resources, displacement of populations from farms to cities, construction of factories for extraction of the value of commodity inputs (including wage labor), and trade in the resulting products all required enabling legal constructs in order to work. Eventually, as those processes produced mounting costs to human wellbeing, a protective countermovement emerged that incorporated new regulatory components. But the countermovement was not law’s first response. Law was, so to speak, in on the ground floor, working to produce the new relations of economic production.

Beginning in the mid-nineteenth century, the American political economic landscape underwent a parallel transformation that also both relied on and transformed legal institutions. The part of that story with which contemporary lawyers and legal scholars are most familiar involves the creation of the modern administrative state during the first half of the twentieth century and the bitter disputes about constitutional law that accompanied it. But those disputes were themselves shaped by earlier doctrinal and conceptual realignments that privileged rising industrial and commercial interests. The development of private and commercial law during both the antebellum period and the post-Civil War years established the distributive backdrop for the disputes about public law that unfolded later. Once again, law was in on the ground floor; countermovements came later.

For some time now, political economies in the developed world have been undergoing a transformation from industrial to informational capitalism.  Borrowing from Polanyi, it is helpful to frame the emergence of informational capitalism in terms of three large-scale shifts: the propertization (or enclosure) of intangible resources, the dematerialization and datafication of the basic factors of industrial production, and the embedding (and rematerialization) of patterns of barter and exchange within information platforms. Once again, powerful interests have a stake in the outcome, and once again, they are enlisting law to produce new institutional settlements.

Read more »

The De-Americanization of Internet Freedom

David Pozen

[Cross-posted at Lawfare]

“The Internet,” Ira Magaziner opined in a 1998 speech, is “a force for the promotion of democracy” as well as “individual freedom and individual empowerment.” At the time he gave this speech, Magaziner was the Clinton administration’s internet guru. He began his remarks in a tentative register, observing that “humility is an important quality for anyone working to develop policies for the Internet,” given the “uncharted” nature of the terrain. A minute or so later, Magaziner informed his audience that the internet would “be the primary driver of the broader economy for the next couple of decades,” make dictatorships and other non-democratic forms of government “impossible in the long run,” and “bring all the peoples of the world closer together.”

At least, the internet would deliver these revolutionary benefits if policymakers regulated it appropriately. And that, Magaziner explained, meant regulating it as little as possible: pursuing a “market-driven model” in which “the government role is not in regulating, but rather in setting the terms for a predictable legal environment for contracts to form.” A “regulated model” would stifle the growth of the medium and cause “distortion.” Nation-states, accordingly, should abandon most efforts to tax the internet, to subject it to traditional telecommunications and competition laws, or to censor or control content. (Intellectual property in electronic commerce, on the other hand, would require “strong protection.”) “If I could wave a magic wand,” Magaziner summed up his message, “I would say we should go through a complete deregulation here, and let the market go.”
Read more »

The Minsky Moment in Constitutional Law

Gerard N. Magliocca

During the Panic of 2008, fresh attention was given to the economic research of Hyman Minsky. Minsky proposed a theory to explain periodic financial crises that went something like this: The further the previous crisis receded from memory, the more people discounted the possibility that such an event would recur. This led them to take on more risk or deregulate, which eventually triggered the next crisis. And so on.

I wonder if we are now having a Minsky Moment in politics or constitutionalism. In other words, voters and some political elites may be taking for granted the benefits that have flowed from various institutions or practices developed since World War II (free trade, global institutions, rule of law, constitutional democracy, etc.). As a result, people think that we can take on more political or legal risk (in the name of one goal or another) without losing the benefits associated with those practices. Until, that is, there is a significant upheaval. Then everyone will reassert the older caution and learn their lesson until they forget again.


Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Further reflections on "the common good"

Sandy Levinson

As noted yesterday both Patrick Deneen's and Steven Brill's new books, about which I am very enthusiastic, both ultimately turn on the belief that there is an ascertainable "common good" or "public interest" that is being ignored by feckless politicians, for whatever reasons, including, of course, the sheer power of the donor class.  I am not unsympathetic with this critique.  One of the reasons I have become so critical of the Constitution is that, as Mark Graber has pointed out, it is structured so as to assure that no national elected office-holder, including the President, truly has an incentive to think about the "national good."  Every member of Congress is beholden to local constituents.  The only difference between the House and Senate on this score, putting to one side the seven states with more senators than representatives, is that senators represent larger constituencies, but their incentive is to do what they believe these parochial constituencies desire.  Thus Mitch McConnell as the faithful ambassador from a dying coal industry.  Indeed, if one wants to understand why it's going to be so hard to win the "war on coal," one should begin with the fact that most of the largest coal producing states are small (in population) and, therefore, coal plays an exaggerated role in the consciousness of the representatives and senators.  (These states include Montana, Wyoming, Kentucky, and West Virginia, which have a total population of approximately eight million people (out of approximately 325 million people in the entire US), but who have, among them, 8% of the in the egregious and indefensible U.S Senate and, unlike the senators from, say, Illinois, they are not encumbered by in-state groups that might not be so completely committed to maintaining the supremacy of coal.  (Texas, a high coal-producing state, somewhat to my surprise, is now the leading center of wind-energy in the US.)

Although some (especially presidents themselves) claim that the President is the "tribune of the national people," the even more egregious and indefensible electoral college assures that most often the President is the faithful servant of the particular coalition that put him (so far) into power.  Thus, whatever FDR's "real views" might have been on civil rights, the New Deal, as Ira Katznelson has demonstrated, was shameful with regard to protecting the rights of Southern African Americans because racist Democrats were an essential part of the then-Democratic coalition.  (They have, of course, migrated to the Republican Party as a result of the Voting Rights Act of 1965.)  Similarly, the most shameful appointments to the federal courts in the past sixty years, prior to Donald Trump, were JFK's, who felt it "necessary" to pander to Mississippi Sen. James Eastland and others to provide "safe" judges.  Ohio, as a battleground state, has been the recipient of special solicitude from, especially, George W. Bush and now Donald Trump, though I suspect it wouldn't be that hard to find some similar examples from Bill Clinton and Barack Obama.  The only one of the three basic branches that might be free from this critique is, of course, the judiciary.  As Graber has also argued, one cannot possibly understand Dred Scott without realizing that there was a national desire that the Court, as the one remaining "national institution," given the almost total breakdown of Congress as a genuine governing institution, intervene and try to save the Union. Taney didn't do it, but, if one can accept Story's similarly-motivated opinion in Prigg v. Pennsylvania, it's not self-evident that Taney deserves all of the opprobrium visited upon him unless one takes the Garrisonian position, which I'm sympathetic to, that there might have been a more important value than maintaining the Union.   One might also try to defend the "Administrative State" in similarly national terms.

But these are all "political science" points, as important as they are (and which, perhaps, deserved more recognition particularly from Brill).  Far more fundamental, and quite explicit in Deneen's book, is the extent to which what political theorists call "modern" political theory, i.e., post-Machiavellian, basically rejects the notion of an ascertainable "public good" or "public interest."  I have written elsewhere that the most important single paragraph in "modern" political theory is from Hobbes's Leviathan, where he ruthlessly condenses Aristotle's six forms of government--monarchy, tyranny, aristocracy, oligarchy, constitutional government, and demagoguery, into only three.  (Some lists, incidentally, describe the last two as either a "polity" or a "democracy."  The point is that the second "contrast" terms, "tyranny," "oligarchy," and "demagoguery" or "democracy" Hobbes dismisses as merely the names for forms of government "misliked."  That is, there is no real "fact of the matter"; it's simply a matter of (arbitrary) opinion, so that we should analyze only three forms of government, based the sheer number of rulers:  Monarchy (one); aristocracy (the few); and then democracy (the many).

Madison was perhaps fatally schizoid about such matters,  reflected in the Constitution that he helped so much to design.  Many of the Federalist papers clearly presuppose the existence of "virtuous" dispositions that will lead leaders to prefer the common good to merely selfish "factional" interests.  On the other hand, he also seems to indicate, especially in Federalist 10, that it is basically futile to believe that selfishness can be tamed, that we need instead to construct a "machine" that will, with adequate bells and whistles, create a way of balancing out the various factional interests and, implausibly, perhaps, result in a public interest.  That way lies what came to be called "interest group liberalism," which triumphs especially in the 20th century.

When I entered graduate school 56 years ago, it was taken as a simple truth that normative political theory was basically dead, that "everyone" knew it was simply naive to use terms like "public interest" except in reference to a vector sum of bargaining among distinctly factional political interest groups.  Richard J. Daley and New Haven Mayor Richard Lee were the heroes of what came to be called the "pluralist" view of politics.

John Rawls is widely credited with reviving normative political theory with A Theory of Justice in 1971, but key to Rawls is that his approach was based ultimately on a model of "rational choice," in which entirely self-seeking individuals would realize that it was ultimately in their own interest to adopt "a theory of justice" that would maximize certain notions of "fairness" (because, after all, one could never know, in the original position behind a veil of ignorance, what slot one would inhabit when the veil was lifted).  Genuine commitment to a "public good" was not really central to the Rawlsian vision.  Moreover, as Michael Sandel argued, Rawls's ontology, as is true generally of "rational choice" models, was of completely isolated individuals concerned only with maximizing their own welfare.  (In this sense, there was less difference between Rawls and his chief libertarian critic, Robert Nozick, than one might think.)  Sandel, instead, emphasized (like Deneen), the extent to which we come into the world "embedded" and "encumbered" by community loyalties, norms, etc. Not only are they not easy to escape, but one can read Sandel (and certainly Deneen), more controversially, as suggesting that they ought not be escaped.  I dare say that most readers of this blog are "cosmopolitans" of one form or another who have long since left their original birthplace and, perhaps, family and religious traditions behind, and are not particularly taken with the pull of remaining loyal to initial "encumbrances" that in no sense are "chosen" or the product of any kind of "autonomy."  (It is clear that no libertarian can possibly be sympathetic with Sandel, or Deneen.)

But even with the revival of normative political theory and the rich array of books that are now being written, it is scarcely the case that there is anything close to agreement on what constitutes the public good or, even more to the point, on the epistemological tools by which we might ascertain it.  This is what makes arguments like Deneen's and Brill's (and, for that matter, your own favorite politician--both Brill and I are big admirers of Bill Bradley, who would have been a superb President) so genuinely problematic.  It is always tempting, and often correct, to claim that assertions of the public good are mere "ideology," i.e., gussied-up defenses of what are "in fact" merely selfish interests.  The main business of lawyers, after all, is to manufacture arguments favoring their clients in the name of impersonal interpretations of statues or the Constitution.  (Who would be so bold as to describe yesterday's voting rights decision about Ohio as five conservative Republicans making it easier for their party to remain in power rather than the good faith interpretation of two federal statutes?  It would be like describing the Court as the "running dogs of the capitalist empire.")  Going back to Plato and the Gorgias, Socrates distinguished between sophistry and true knowledge.  At best, many (though not all) of us believe that "true knowledge" is available with regard to a certain realm of "facts."  (The Flint water supply was contaminated with lead is not a matter of opinion; I also agree with Brill that it, like many other failures in our infrastructure, can be traced to fanatical Republican opposition to spending public money in a redistributive manner designed to help what Brill calls those who are "unprotected" by class or meritocratic privilege. ) But is it a matter of "fact" that poor people are "entitled" to decent water, public transportation, education, etc., etc., etc.?

I'm skilled at delineating the structure of legal and political debates, but I'm scarcely confident that I in fact know what the "public good" requires.  I remain enough a child of that aspect of my graduate education to be skeptical (just as I'm even more skeptical of claims to true and certain knowledge of what "the Constitution" requires of us).  My first book was "Constitutional Faith," and I have written subsequently of how and why I lost any real faith in the Constitution.  What Brill and Deneen are relying on, though, is perhaps a more important kind of faith, i.e., that we can in fact come to agree on what the "public good" requires and then identify leaders and groups who are committed to bringing it about.  Without some kind of such faith, I don't know how a democracy can ultimately function (unless, that is, one accepts the now generally discredited assumptions of interest-group-liberalism).  But requisite belief can't simply be summoned out of thin air.

More depressing thoughts for a late spring day (provoked by these two very interesting books).

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