Balkinization  

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Taking Section Two of the Fourteenth Amendment Seriously

Gerard N. Magliocca

Building on Professor Fishkin's post, my new article on Section Two of the Fourteenth Amendment was published today. Section Two gets far less attention than Section One, but Section Two is vital for two reasons. The first is that this is the source of the rule that all persons shall be counted for purposes of national representation. (Litigation is pending in the Southern District of New York on whether the Commerce Department's proposal to add a citizenship question to the next census is unlawful in part because that decision was made to discourage an accurate count of non-citizens).

The other reason Section Two is worth studying is that the system used in 2011 to reapportion representatives among the states was unconstitutional. Reapportionment is not as glamorous as gerrymandering. Nonetheless, the question of how representatives are allocated among the states matters and the constitutional violation is hiding in plain sight. As the Article explains, Section Two of the Fourteenth Amendment says that the states shall be penalized in their representation if certain conditions are met. The reapportionment statutes, however, bar the imposition of any such penalty. These statutes are therefore invalid. (There is more to the article than this syllogism, of course.)

Unless Congress corrects this defect by 2021, it is my hope that some states will challenge the next reapportionment on constitutional grounds using the theory laid out in the paper.


Monday, July 30, 2018

Count All the People

Joseph Fishkin

The Fourteenth Amendment sets out a simple rule for the interstate allocation of political power in the United States: “Representatives shall be apportioned among the several States according to their respective numbers, counting the whole number of persons in each State, excluding Indians not taxed.” With this sentence, 150 years ago this month, the Constitution obliterated the three-fifths clause. Later, just under a century ago, we incorporated all Native Americans into the body politic by statute, so there are no more “Indians not taxed.” These changes have wrought a beautifully straightforward rule: our federal government allocates political power according to “the whole number of persons.” Not just the citizens. Not just the adults. Not just the people with valid immigration status, or the people a state has decided in its wisdom to make eligible to vote. All persons.

This hard-won bedrock constitutional principle structures the entire American political order under our feet. But that doesn’t mean Americans are all aware of it or understand it. To some Americans today (especially a lot of Republicans) it seems kind of crazy that we count non-voters such as children and even non-citizens, regardless of immigration status, in allocating political power. If they can’t vote, these critics ask, why do they count?

That way of thinking is now underwriting a flurry of profoundly ill-conceived activism by Republicans across the country who are aiming in a variety of ways to circumscribe the set of persons who count in our processes for allocating political power. One line of attack is a political lawsuit aiming to persuade the Census Bureau to violate the Constitution by refusing to count undocumented immigrants at all. (The lawsuit of course claims that the Constitution requires, rather than prohibits, this never-before-tried exclusionary practice.) Another line of attack aims to redraw state and local district lines so that instead of counting all the people, they count only citizens or eligible voters or some other measure. The highest-profile line of attack to date emanates from within the Trump administration, which is attempting to add a citizenship question to the Census in an effort to make such exclusionary redistricting easier for states and localities—while at the same time, in a fortuitous nativist twofer, suppressing the Census count itself in immigrant communities. The partisan stakes in all this are mostly pretty obvious (although not entirely). But sometimes the commentary about partisan effects obscures the underlying constitutional principle at stake.

Today in the Washington Post, I have an op ed offering a defense of the principle that we should count all the people. It’s pretty short; the defense is condensed. If you’re interested in a more in-depth discussion, you can take a look at this essay I recently published in a symposium in the William & Mary Law Review. It seems to me that we are now in the early stages of a twenty-first century reckoning with the question of who counts—on the Census, in apportionment, and across federal and state redistricting. The core underlying questions across these domains are fairly consistent. I think there are strong justifications for leaving in place the settlement reached in 1789 and 1868, later magnified outward by the core reapportionment revolution decisions of 1964: we count all the people, and we all count equally. I also think there is far more work to be done in this area. This debate is just beginning. I write this blog post in the hope that some readers may decide to write in this area.

Sunday, July 29, 2018

Understanding the Cycles of Constitutional Time, or, Why Things Are Going to Get Better

JB

I have posted my latest article, The Recent Unpleasantness: Understanding the Cycles of Constitutional Time, on SSRN. This is the written version of the 2017 Addison C. Harris Lecture  at the University of Indiana.  Here is the abstract:

This article, originally given as the 2017 Addison C. Harris Lecture at Indiana University, analyzes recent events in terms of three great cycles of change in American constitutional history. The first is the cycle of the rise and fall of political regimes. The second is the cycle of polarization and depolarization. The third is the cycle of the decay and renewal of republican government--the cycle of constitutional rot. Each of these cycles operates on a different time scale. Their interaction generates "constitutional time."

Many commentators worry that the United States is in a period of constitutional crisis, or that American democracy is doomed. These fears, although understandable, are overstated. America is not in a constitutional crisis, although it is suffering from a fairly severe case of constitutional rot, connected to rising polarization and economic inequality.

Our current difficulties are a temporary condition. They stem from the fact that the Reagan regime that has structured American politics since the 1980s is dying, but a new regime has yet to be born. This is a difficult, agonizing, and humbling transition; and its difficulty is enhanced by the fact that, unlike the last transition, it occurs at the peak of a cycle of polarization and at the low point of a cycle of constitutional rot. For that reason, the transition to a new political regime is likely to be especially difficult. But we will get through it. And when we get through it, about five to ten years from now, American politics will look quite different.

Political renewal is hardly foreordained: it will require persistence and political effort. The point of this lecture is to offer a bit of hope in difficult times. If people misunderstand our situation, and conclude that American decline is inevitable, they may unwittingly help to make that fate a reality; but if they understand the cycles of constitutional time, they may come to believe that their democracy can be redeemed, and do their part to realize that worthy goal.

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Accountability for the Internet of Torts

Guest Blogger

Rebecca Crootof

Tort law has always shaped political economy in the wake of technological developments. Sometimes it operates to protect the powerful; sometimes it intervenes in power relations to correct new imbalances. The history of tort law can be understood as a series of case studies in how new technologies enable new conduct and harms, and in how judges and legislatures changed the law to address the resulting power dynamics between industry and individuals. The concept of ultrahazardous activities, the creation of no-fault workers’ compensation and motor vehicle insurance, and the rise of mass tort litigation can all be partially traced to underlying technological changes and accompanying social shifts.

Today, we are at the inflection point of another such transformation. In an earlier post, Introducing the Internet of Torts, I discussed how Internet of Things (IoT) companies are able to create and impose their own contractual governance regimes. They use terms of service to displace the law of the state, and they employ technological self-help to enforce their rules. Furthermore, the physicality of IoT devices increases the likelihood of consumer property damage and physical harm when companies discontinue service or otherwise engage in digital repossession. In this post, I will use prior tort law revolutions as a springboard to discuss how new products liability law and fiduciary duties could be used to rectify this new power imbalance and ensure that IoT companies are held accountable for the harms they foreseeably cause.

Read more »

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Introducing the Internet of Torts

Guest Blogger

Rebecca Crootof

Once upon a time, missing a payment on your leased car would be the first of a multi-step negotiation between you and a car dealership, bounded by contract law and consumer protection rules, mediated and ultimately enforced by the government. You might have to pay a late fee, or negotiate a loan deferment, but usually a company would not repossess your car until after two or even three consecutive skipped payments. Today, however, car companies are using starter interrupt devices to remotely “boot” cars just days after a payment is missed. This digital repossession creates an obvious risk of injury when an otherwise operational car doesn’t start: as noted in a New York Times article, there have been reports of parents unable to take children to the emergency room, individuals marooned in dangerous neighborhoods, and cars that were disabled while idling in intersections.

This is but one of many examples of how the proliferating Internet of Things (IoT) enables companies to engage in practices that foreseeably cause consumer property damage and physical injury. But how is tort law relevant, given that these actions are authorized by terms of service and other contracts? In this post I’ll elaborate on how IoT devices empower companies at the expense of consumers and how extant law shields industry from liability. In a future post, Accountability for the Internet of Torts, I’ll discuss what we can learn from prior tort law revolutions about how the law might evolve to hold these companies accountable. Overarchingly, a political economy perspective highlights how technological developments are not neutral—they enable new conduct, new relationships, and new kinds of harm that disproportionately affect the poor—and how law can be used either to preserve or correct resulting power imbalances.

Three characteristics of IoT devices—their ability to collect personalized data, their capacity for communication with a cloud-based service provider, and their physicality—combine to form a product that is simultaneously an object and an ongoing service. And, in most cases, an IoT device’s utility depends on the perpetual provision of that service: without Alexa Voice Service, an Amazon Echo is merely an expensive doorstop. As a result, instead of an association that ends with the purchase of an item, consumers now enter into in an ongoing relationship with IoT companies.

We’ve seen how connected products enable industry overreach before. Digital tech companies have long employed terms of service and digital rights management technologies to limit how consumers use purchased products—say, to keep consumers from sharing music or accessing an e-book. Borrowing tactics from earlier digital tech companies’ playbooks, IoT companies are using their terms of service to lock consumers into contractual governance regimes, thereby supplanting the “law of the state” with the “law of the firm.” They can then engage in digital repossession and other forms of technological self-help to enforce these contracts, sidestepping the state’s checks on unfair contractual provisions.

Such practices are concerning enough in the digital world, but they have even more sinister implications in the IoT context. IoT companies can harness devices’ extensive surveillance capabilities to impose and monitor compliance with increasingly invasive terms; they can condition necessary security and software updates on consumers’ assent to contract modifications; and they can digitally repossess items by remotely impairing or completely disabling devices.

But there’s also an entirely new problem: Because an IoT device interacts with the physical environment, there is an increased risk that consumers will suffer property damage and physical harm should a company digitally repossess it. Smart fridges are marketed as being able to warn you of food spoliation, but a disconnected one might increase your chances of food poisoning. You might sleep soundly, trusting an IoT baby monitor, senior lifeline, home security system, or fire alarm to notify you of a problem—but should a company remotely deactivate the alert system, your reliance could lead to tragedy. Your front or garage door could be left open because you left a bad review on Amazon. And IoT medical devices make the risks of digital repossession all the more obvious. If, as Ryan Calo has quipped, robots are “software that can touch you,” IoT devices are contracts that can hurt you. And these harms are most likely to fall on the poor, as they will disproportionately suffer the consequences of digital repossessions.

Classically, an injured individual could bring a tort suit to seek compensation for harm. But in addition to social and practical deterrents, a would-be plaintiff suffering from an IoT-enabled injury faces three significant legal hurdles. First, there is likely a contract between the consumer and the company that authorizes the digital repossession. Contract law does not price harms: it leaves that determination to the bargaining parties, sometimes to the extent that it “launder[s] injustice.” Of course, companies cannot overreach in setting their terms, especially when consumers have limited ability to negotiate those terms. When they do, the contract can be declared unconscionable, and tort law will operate as a backstop to price the harms. Absent a better understanding of how IoT-enabled harms scale, however, judges are unlikely to declare clauses limiting liability unconscionable when evaluating individual cases.

Even if the contract is struck, a plaintiff will still need to prove breach of a duty and causation. But there is little clarity about what duties an IoT company owes users. And proving causation will be fraught, as the doctrine of intervening causes will likely relieve the company of liability. A digitally booted car doesn’t hurt you—it is the other car that hits you when you’re trying to escape an intersection that is the direct cause of your injury.

In short, IoT devices enable both familiar and new opportunities for harmful industry overreach, with the added twist that these practices can now cause physical harm and property damage. Simultaneously, there is little government oversight or routes of recourse for injured consumers under extant law.

But law can evolve. As with prior, technological change, the proliferation of IoT devices will necessitate a reconsideration of familiar liability analyses. In my next post, I will discuss how expanded understandings of duty and causation could correct the IoT-enabled power imbalance between companies and consumers.

Crossposted at Law and Political Economy

This post is adapted from a forthcoming paper, “An Internet of Torts.” Rebecca Crootof is a Research Scholar and Lecturer in Law at Yale Law School and the Executive Director of the Information Society Project.


Monday, July 23, 2018

The Rulification of Penalty Kicks—and a Reform Proposal

David Pozen


The 2018 soccer World Cup was the first to use Video Assistant Referees (VAR). VAR allows decisions by the head referee involving goals, penalties, direct red cards, and “mistaken identity” to be reviewed, immediately afterward, with the aid of video footage. Not coincidentally, the 2018 World Cup was also the first to feature upward of twenty penalty kicks. At the 2014 tournament in Brazil, a total of thirteen penalty kicks were called, not including shootouts. In Russia, the number was twenty-nine.

The criteria for awarding penalty kicks have not changed. According to the official laws of the game, if a player commits a foul punishable by a direct free kick inside her own penalty area, “[a] penalty kick is awarded.” Each and every time a player inside this zone pushes an opponent, trips an opponent, handles the ball deliberately (unless she is a goalkeeper), and so on, the opposing team gets a penalty kick.

In legal-theory parlance, the criteria for awarding penalty kicks are “rules” rather than “standards.” They are clear and precise—not completely clear or precise, as terms like “trip” and “push” go undefined, but relatively so—and they give little discretion to the referees who enforce them. Other laws of soccer were designed from the outset to be flexible and context-sensitive: for instance, the laws empowering referees to give yellow cards for “reckless challenges” and red cards for “excessive force.” The laws governing penalty kicks are not like that. If one of an enumerated list of behaviors is found to have occurred, a penalty kick follows.

This, at least, is the law on the books. The law in action has long been different. As all soccer devotees know, referees sometimes decline to award penalty kicks in situations where the formal laws suggest they are mandatory. If, say, the collision in the box looks innocuous or inadvertent, or if the fouled player was unlikely to score anyway, or if the incident takes place near the end of a close contest, many referees seem more inclined to let play continue. Informing these judgments are intuitions about soccer justice and an appreciation that in such a low-scoring game, the penalty kick is a draconian sanction—leading to a goal more than two-thirds of the time. It’s roughly comparable to a basketball referee awarding one team fifty foul shots, all in a row.

With their decisions subject to review by a phalanx of off-field “assistants,” however, the referees in Russia no longer felt free to apply their situation sense and to refrain from awarding penalties that may have been technically warranted but seemed unduly harsh, given the circumstances. France’s second goal in the final was arguably a case in point. On a few occasions, video review revealed that an apparent foul had not in fact occurred and led to the reversal of a penalty kick that had been whistled on the field, as with Neymar’s dive against Costa Rica. But overall, by subjecting referees to real-time, panoptical scrutiny, VAR made the policing of penalties more severe as well as more mechanical.

The introduction of VAR thus exposed a gap between the law on the books and the law in action. And the effect was to rulify the adjudication of penalty kicks. Under the gaze of FIFA’s all-seeing thirty-three broadcast cameras, a nuanced standard that had developed over many years without ever being written down—a standard that prioritized the punishment of blatant fouls and denials of goal-scoring opportunities—gave way to a comparatively rigid rulebook that recognizes no distinctions among more and less “penalty-worthy” trips, pushes, or the like. Transparency left less room for subtlety. Codified law swallowed custom.

Is this a good or a bad thing? I am inclined to be negative about this aspect of VAR. (The earlier introduction of goal-line technology, in contrast, did not undermine any customs of refereeing or introduce any delays in play, and strikes me as a boon for the game.) Although penalty kicks may now be called more consistently, they will also be called more frequently and mindlessly. FIFA’s president insists that “VAR is not changing football, it is cleaning football.” Yet we know from other contexts that enforcing longstanding laws more aggressively or literalistically can be a deeply disruptive, if not subversive, act. To “cleanse” soccer of enforcement discretion is to change the sport.

My own instinctual negativity likely reflects some combination of nostalgia, technoskepticism, and aesthetic taste. But the degree to which VAR has divided opinion also reflects, I suspect (loosely in line with Duncan Kennedy’s famous analysis in “Form and Substance in Private Law Adjudication”), different orientations toward rules, standards, expertise, and the rule of law. For those soccer fans who are “rules people” and take clarity, predictability, and impersonality to be the essence of a well-functioning legal system, VAR may seem obviously superior to the opacity and ad hockery of the old regime. For those who place greater trust in the professional judgment of on-field referees and greater emphasis on the avoidance of substantively unfair outcomes, on the other hand, VAR may come across as alienating, crude, even callous.

Perhaps we can bridge some of the space separating these two camps. VAR’s critics must concede that the system has real benefits, particularly in cases where the referee simply could not see what happened on the field while it was happening. To capture these benefits without straightjacketing referees, I wonder whether the laws of the game might themselves be made more standard-like through the use of a new intermediate sanction. For example, they could instruct referees to award ordinary penalty kicks for egregious fouls and fouls that deny a clear goal-scoring opportunity, but indirect kicks or unobstructed direct kicks from eighteen yards out (rather than twelve) for all other fouls in the penalty area.

Any such proposal is bound to be enormously controversial. Whatever their views on its merits, legally and philosophically inclined fans might at least agree that the way VAR has transformed the practice of penalty kicks supplies an interesting case study in the jurisprudence of sport, the instability of rules and standards, and the potential for technological change to disrupt sociolegal norms.

Exacerbating the real error in Abood: Is there any justification, "originalist" or otherwise, for the Court's holding in Janus that deducting agency fees abridges the freedom of speech?

Marty Lederman

On the final day of its Term last month, a 5-4 majority of the Court in Janus v. AFSCME overruled the four-decades-old Abood decision and held that when a state deducts a so-called "agency fee" from the paychecks of public employees who are not union members, and conveys that fee to the union for purposes of representing the bargaining unit (e.g., for collective bargaining and grievance processing), the state violates the employees' rights under the Free Speech Clause.  In its 1977 decision in Abood the Court had drawn a distinction among different categories of union activities:  It held that although the Free Speech Clause prohibits a state from using nonmembers' funds to subsidize a union's political and ideological activities, it could deduct a fee from employees' salary for the portion of union dues attributable to activities that are “germane to [the union’s] duties as collective bargaining representative."  The Janus Court reversed the latter part of the Abood holding, so that such deductions are now deemed an unconstitutional violation of the Free Speech Clause through and through, no matter what the union does with the money.

The most striking thing about Justice Alito's majority opinion--to me, anyway--is that the Court majority was willing (quite eager, in fact) to overrule such a well-entrenched precedent without providing virtually any basis for thinking that the fee deduction "abridges" anyone's actual speech.  As many scholars have long explained (including my colleagues Greg Klass and David Luban, as well as, more recently, Will Baude and Eugene Volokh), Justice Alito is right that "Abood was poorly reasoned"--but in the other direction.  The original sin of Abood was not the Court's failure to prohibit agency fees for collective bargaining functions, but instead in holding that employee deductions can implicate the Free Speech Clause in cases where there's no compelled association (no one is required to join the union), no possibility of any misattribution of the organization's speech to the objecting payers, and the payment in question is not triggered by the objector's own speech (as in Tornillo and PG&E).

One would think that surely would have been reason enough for the Court not to extend Abood's purported Free Speech limitations to the context of fees for services actually rendered . . . but apparently not.  Instead, the Court doubles down on, and thereby greatly exacerbates, Abood's error.

I wrote above that the Court provides "virtually" no basis for thinking that the Illinois agency fee deduction "abridges" anyone's actual speech.  The qualifier ("virtually") is necessary because Justice Alito's opinion does offer one reason, and one reason alone--a singular quotation from a 1786 state law.  That quotation isn't really on point, however--and, even read more expansively than is warranted, it can't possibly bear the weight of authority the Court assigns to it as a basis for concluding that the Illinois deduction of agency fees abridges employees' freedom of speech.

Alito begins with a brief explanation for the Court's compelled speech doctrine:
When speech is compelled, ... individuals are coerced into betraying their convictions. Forcing free and independent individuals to endorse ideas they find objectionable is
always demeaning, and for this reason, one of our landmark free speech cases said that a law commanding “involuntary affirmation” of objected-to beliefs would require “even more immediate and urgent grounds” than a law demanding silence.  [quoting West Virginia v. Barnette].
So far, so good:  If the state compels an individual to actually say something that betrays her convictions--the classic case being the compulsion of the young Jehovah's Witness students in Barnette to attest their allegiance to the United States, contrary to their genuine beliefs--there's a First Amendment problem.  But so what?  After all, Illinois is not forcing its employees to say anything about AFSCME, about the subject matter or bona fides of the union's negotiations, or about anything else--let alone to attest to a belief in something they don't believe (nor even to display unwanted government speech as they move throughout the day, as in Wooley v. Maynard).  So what's the constitutional problem?

Well, Justice Alito then simply asserts, as if night followed day, that "[c]ompelling a person to subsidize the speech of other private speakers raises similar First Amendment concerns" (emphasis added, and citing three modern cases, including Abood, that are no more explanatory than Janus).  Why?  Here's the entirety of his reasoning:
As Jefferson famously put it, “to compel a man to furnish contributions of money for the propagation of opinions which he disbelieves and abhor[s] is sinful and tyrannical.” A Bill for Establishing Religious Freedom, in 2 Papers of Thomas Jefferson 545 (J. Boyd ed. 1950) (emphasis deleted and footnote omitted).
That's it.  A single quotation from a Virginia statute drafted by Thomas Jefferson and enacted by the Virginia legislature five years before the First Amendment was ratified.  Similarly, a few pages later Alito again cites the same sentence from the 1786 Virginia bill as alleged support for the Court's insistence that overruling Abood and holding that the agency fee is unconstitutional is consistent with "the original understanding of the First Amendment":
[P]rominent members of the founding generation condemned laws requiring public employees to affirm or support beliefs with which they disagreed.  As noted, Jefferson denounced compelled support for such beliefs as "sinful and tyrannical," and others expressed similar views.
Who are these "others" in the founding generation who allegedly expressed "similar views"?  Alito cites only two:  Noah Webster and Oliver Ellsworth (both of whom were invoked in the amicus brief of certain California teachers).  But neither of those men suggested that compelled payments are unconstitutional, let alone violations of the Free Speech Clause.  Ellsworth wrote in 1787 that laws requiring people to “make a public declaration of … belief … in order to qualify themselves for public employments” were “useless, tyrannical, and peculiarly unfit for the people of this country”--but of course Illinois does not require its employees to make any declaration of belief, public or otherwise.  Similarly, in 1790 Webster condemned “test laws, oaths of … abjuration, and partial exclusions from civil offices” as “instruments of slavery” and “badge[s] of tyranny.”  He didn't write anything at all about compelled payments.

And so it turns out that the only support for the Court's central assumption--that compelling a person to subsidize the speech of other private speakers raises First Amendment concerns "similar" to compelled speech itself--is a single statement in a Jefferson-penned Virginia statute from 1786.  That isolated sentence would hardly be enough to demonstrate that the Illinois deductions implicate the Free Speech Clause even if it were right on point.  But it's not.

First of all, the "sinful and tyrannical" statement does not purport to have anything to do with freedom of speech.  Nor has the Court ever treated the statement as reflecting a general constitutional prohibition--Free Speech-based or otherwise--on compelling a person to "furnish contributions of money for the propagation of opinions which he disbelieves and abhor[s]":  after all, we are all often are required to subsidize the propagation of opinions that we do not share, or that we even abhor.  Every few hours, for example, my tax dollars are used to subsidize statements and tweets by Donald Trump that I find odious and that the government could never require or coerce me to say myself.

The quotation in question, and the Virginia Bill more broadly, was widely understood to reflect an antiestablishment limit on the state's use of treasury funds to fund churches.  That's why the bill itself was entitled "An act for establishing religious freedom."  And so, for a very long time, the Court used the Jefferson quotation as part of its justification for reading the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment as prohibiting state funding of religious establishments.*  Notably, the Court has recently even abandoned this principle, in Trinity Lutheran Church v. Comer.  And of course Justice Alito does not conclude that the Illinois law violates the Establishment Clause.

One other thing, too:  Even if the Virginia Bill quotation were taken literally, and for all it might be worth, the Court simply assumes, without discussion, that the Illinois law at issue in Janus involves compelling objecting employees to "furnish contributions of money" to the union.  But that's not necessarily so.  The employees, after all, never receive the money in question, and therefore are never required to "contribute" it--they don't cut a check to the union.  Instead, the State of Illinois itself notes a "deduction" on the paycheck it provides to employees and then itself conveys the amount of that deduction to the union.  To be sure, Illinois has denominated that fee to be nominally part of the employee's "wages" in the first instance.  Imagine, however, that instead of doing so, Illinois simply negotiated for a lower employees' salary (correlated to the amount of the fee), and then cut a check to the union from the state treasury in that same amount in order to facilitate the union's collective bargaining activities.  That alternative mechanism would result in exactly the same transfer of funds from the state to the union, without the formality of calling the fee a "deduction" from employee "wages."  (The only reason Illinois does not do so is that Illinois law itself prohibits it.  See Daniel Hemel and David Louk for further thoughts about such an alternative mechanism.)  The First Amendment obviously would not prohibit that system, and the Jefferson quotation would not describe it, under any understanding.  It therefore is, at a minimum, strange to think that the Free Speech Clause kicks in simply because Illinois chooses to deem the fee part of never-received employee "wages" in the first instance.  As Justice Scalia wrote for the Court in Johanns v. Livestock Marketing Ass'n (2005), the constitutionality of a compelled funding scheme should not turn on "the Government's mode of accounting."**  (Aaron Tang suggests that the availability of such a "workaround" only confirms the unconstitutionality of an agency-fee deduction because it demonstrates that the state has less restrictive ways of accomplishing its ends.  As I see it, however, the two ways are equally "restrictive," in that they are substantively, as well as functionally, identical, and neither requires any employees to, in Tang's words, "give financial support directly to an organization advancing objectionable messages," let alone to "speak."  See also Ben Sachs for further thoughts on why "agency fees are not properly understood as payments made by employees to unions.")

But even if you don't buy this argument about the lack of any transfer of money by the complaining employees, the Jefferson quotation is hardly a basis for any Free Speech Clause concern, for the reasons explained above.  And yet Justice Alito offers nothing other than that quotation as a justification for finding any constitutional infirmity.  (The bulk of the opinion is devoted to assessing the state interest, once the Court has already concluded that heightened constitutional scrutiny applies.)

I'm genuinely curious:  Does anyone--especially, but not limited to, originalists--think that the "sinful and tyrannical" quotation does the trick, or that there's any other basis, neglected by the Court, for concluding that the Free Speech Clause prohibits the state from compelling its nonunion employees to make payments to third parties for expression that the employees disapprove?

I can certainly understand why some people might think such compelled payments are terrible policy--perhaps even "sinful and tyrannical" in certain circumstances.  Property-rights fanciers might even think that "[i]t is against all reason and justice,” and thus perhaps even unconstitutional, to "entrust a legislature" to "take[] property from A. and give[] it to B." (Calder v. Bull (1798) (Chase, J.)).  Although I wouldn't agree with such views, and they wouldn't describe current doctrine, at least they'd be understandable.

But a violation of the Free Speech Clause?  One that's so plain that it justifies abandoning stare decisis with respect to a 41-year-old precedent that's been repeatedly reaffirmed?

Isn't that an idea that all true originalists and textualists should abandon?  If so, what explains the votes of, e.g., Justices Thomas and Gorsuch?  (That last one is a rhetorical question.  For a sense of what the answer might be, see footnote 7 of the Court's opinion.)

[UPDATE:  It has been brought to my attention that Mike Ramsey has, in fact, commendably written about why Janus/Abood are "very problematic from an originalist perspective":
To an originalist, constitutional rights come with the extent and limits recognized at the time of adoption, whatever we may now think of them.  But that observation highlights the crucial point: no one (so far as I am aware) has shown that compelled payments were understood as contrary to "the freedom of speech" at the relevant time. 
Of course, no one has shown that compelled payments are consistent with "the freedom of speech" either.  But as Volokh and Baude argue, Abood held that some compelled payments are consistent with the freedom of speech.  To overrule that conclusion, the Court would seem to need some evidence it was wrong -- and an originalist should need some originalist evidence. 
The reasons that Janus is a problem for originalism, then, it that the originalist-oriented Justices seem likely to overrule Abood without any originalist reasons for doing so. That outcome, if it occurs, weakens originalism by suggesting that it is just a tool for conservative results, to be discarded when it does not lead to conservative results.  Originalism would emerge much stronger if Janus came out the other way (or if at least someone in the majority in Janus explained its originalist foundation).]
__________________
* In Janus, Alito also cites footnote 15 of Teachers v. Hudson (1986), but that footnote merely repeats the quotation from the Virginia religious freedom bill, together with a similar disestablishment quotation from Madison ("Who does not see . . . [t]hat the same authority which can force a citizen to contribute three pence only of his property for the support of any one establishment may force him to conform to any other establishment in all cases whatsoever?").

** Imagine, for example, that a state runs both an arts festival, at which it offers opera performances, and a grant program to private parties engaged in cutting-edge arts and humanities.  The state decides to use proceeds from the former to fund the latter.  One alternative is that it might designate a small portion of opera ticket sales--denominated a "deduction"--and then transfer such "deducted" funds to other artists and groups, some of which engage in expression that's disfavored by many ticket-buying opera-goers.  Alternatively, it could simply raise the opera ticket prices slightly and then make payments out of the state treasury to those same grant recipients, much to the chagrin of the objecting opera fanciers.  Is there any reason to think that the Free Speech Clause prohibits the former scheme but not the latter?

Friday, July 20, 2018

Hitlerian aspects of Trumpism

Sandy Levinson

One should begin with the obvious point that Donald Trump is not Adolf Hitler.  Trump has no obvious commitments beyond self-aggrandizement.  In foreign policy, he seems to be far more an isolationist than someone eager to expand American influence (save through trade wars).  He is more than willing to engage in dog whistles to white supremacy, but even his most vitriolic opponents, among whom I'd count myself, do not believe he has set out a path to a Final Solution, etc.

So why bother to engage in the undoubtedly incendiary comparison of Donald Trump and Hitler?  The quick answer involves a page from a new book I'm currently reading, Benjamin Carter Hett's THE DEATH OF DEMOCRACY:  HITLER'S RISE TO POWER AND THE DOWNFALL OF THE WEMAR REPUBLIC,  a short well-written overview of what was obviously one of the key moments of 20th century political and social history.  The striking discussion occurs on p. 38:

.... While working as a reporter in Munich, Konrad Heiden, a Social Democratic journalist and Hitler's first important biographer, witnessed Hitler speaking many times.  "At the highpoints of his speeches," Heiden wrote, "he is seduced by himself, and whether he is speaking the purest truth or the fattest lies, what he says is, in that moment, so completely the expression of his being . . . that even from the lie an aura of authenticity floods over the listener."  On the other hand, Hitler's finance minister, Count Lutz Schwerin von Krosigk, observed, "He wasn't even honest towards his most intimate confidants. ... In my opinion, he was so thoroughly untruthful that he could no longer recognize the difference between lies and truth."
And, of course, as Hett notes, it was Hitler (and Goebbels) who emphasized the importance of the "big lie."  "In 'the greatness of the lie there is always a certain element of credibility,' Hitler explains, 'because the broad masses of a people can be more easily corrupted in the deeper reaches of their hearts' than consciously or deliberately. 'In the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves sometimes lie about small things but would be too ashamed of lies that were too big.'"

It has been reported, in part based on a statement by hist first wife Ivana and seemingly confirmed by Donald, that a friend had given him a copy of Hitler's speeches (as distinguished from Mein Kampf).  The crucial point is that it can scarcely be denied that we have a pathological liar as president who has seemingly turned that into a feature of his political success.  What is more ominous, in many ways, is the willingness of the GOP to serve as collective useful idiots in Trump's behalf (in order to get the judges they want and tax cuts for the rich), not to mention the stunning support that Trump  continues to receive from the Republican base.

Many "sophisticates" in 1933 believed that they could control the clown who had become Chancellor and therefore gain their own objectives.  Trump might not be Hitler, save in his propensity to lie, but Ryan or McConnell etc. may be the von Papens who believed that they could successfully ride the tiger.  They should be consigned to the 10th circle of hell even ahead of Trump, since as a pathological narcissist he really can't help himself, whatever the consequences for the American constitutional order.  What excuses do Ryan and McConnell have?



Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Birthright Citizenship and the 14th Amendment

Gerard N. Magliocca

Michael Anton is a former official in the Trump Administration. He is best known for writing (under the pseudonym Publius Decius Mus)  the "Flight 93" essay during the 2016 presidential campaign, in which he slandered the memories of the passengers of that doomed flight on September 11th, 2001 by comparing their courage to people who should vote for Donald Trump.

In today's Washington Post, Anton celebrates the 150th anniversary of the Fourteenth Amendment by distorting its first sentence. In "Citizenship Shouldn't Be A Birthright," Anton argues that the original understanding of that text excludes people born here to illegal immigrant parents from citizenship. Section One of the Fourteenth Amendment provides: "All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States thereof . . ." Anton says that "subject to the jurisdiction" means "not owing allegiance to another country," which would thus exclude children born here to illegal immigrant parents. (Why children born here owe their allegiance to another country is not explained, but that's just one of the many problems with Anton's article.)

I wrote a law review article ten years ago explaining why Anton's argument is wrong. You can read that paper here. "Subject to the jurisdiction," means exactly what you would think from reading that phrase--"subject to American law." Illegal immigrants are, of course, subject to American law. That is why they can be deported. And why their children born here are citizens.

Suppose you are not convinced by my article. After all, I don't support President Trump. So I give you Judge James Ho, named by the President to the Fifth Circuit last year. Judge Ho has impeccable originalist credentials, as a law clerk to Justice Thomas, the Solicitor General of Texas, and a leading private practitioner before he took the bench. When he was in practice, Judge Ho demolished the Anton argument is a couple of published articles (such as here and here). Look at a key passage:

Proponents of ending birthright citizenship claim that aliens--lawful and unlawful--are not "subject to the jurisdiction" of the U.S. because they swear no allegiance to the United States. But neither the text nor the history of the 14th Amendment supports this conclusion. 
When a person is "subject to the jurisdiction" of a court of law, that person is required to obey the orders of that court. The meaning of the phrase is simple: One is "subject to the jurisdiction" of another whenever one is obliged to obey the laws of another. The test is obedience, not allegiance. 
The "jurisdiction" requirement excludes only those who are not required to obey U.S. law. This concept, like much of early U.S. law, derives from English common law. Under common law, foreign diplomats and enemy soldiers are not legally obliged to obey our law, and thus their offspring are not entitled to citizenship at birth. The 14th Amendment merely codified this common law doctrine. 
Members of the 39th Congress debated the wisdom of guaranteeing birthright citizenship --but no one disputed the amendment's meaning. Opponents conceded--indeed, warned -- that it would grant citizenship to the children of those who "owe [the U.S.] no allegiance." Amendment supporters agreed that only members of Indian tribes, ambassadors, foreign ministers and others not "subject to our laws" would fall outside the amendment's reach.
Thus, Anton's claim that "judges faithful to their oaths will have no choice but to agree" that birthright citizenship does not extend to the children born here to illegal immigrant parents is preposterous. Mr. Anton is free, like anyone else, to support for a constitutional amendment that restricts birthright citizenship. He cannot, though, escape the truth that the Constitution as written rejects his view.


A Question for Judge Kavanaugh

Gerard N. Magliocca

I have never met Judge Brett Kavanaugh. I know him only by reputation. And his reputation is stellar. He is a fine circuit judge and is obviously qualified to sit on the Supreme Court. Moreover, I have supported the confirmation of every Supreme Court nominee during my professional career except Harriet Miers, who was in my view manifestly unqualified for such a position.

Nevertheless, there is something that bothers me about Judge Kavanaugh. Hopefully someone will ask him about this subject during his confirmation hearings. In his speech thanking the President, Judge Kavanaugh said "No president has ever consulted more widely or talked with more people from more backgrounds to seek input about a Supreme Court nomination."

Now if I wrote that sentence in law review article, the first question I would have to answer is: "What is the basis for that statement?" In other words, why do I think this is true? In Kavanaugh's case, the answer is that he cannot possibly know that what he said is true. First, he was not privy to all of the President's conversations about the nomination. Second, he was not privy to the vast majority of the conversations about prior nominations. Third, I see no reason to think that the statement is true.

This leads to a rather unfortunate conclusion. Judge Kavanaugh's first statement to the American people as a Supreme Court nominee was either sloppy, false, or dictated to him by the White House. (It sounds a lot more like something that the President would say.) I don't think this is praiseworthy.

To be fair, Prime Minister Hacker once pointed out that "press statements aren't made under oath." I can certainly understand that hyperbole can happen after receiving the honor of a lifetime. But I think that the Judge might want to consult a little more widely before he makes the same claim under oath.  

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Vladimir Putin Follows Legal Blogs

Gerard N. Magliocca

One remarkable portion of Chris Wallace's interview with the Russian President yesterday is that Putin explained that he was aware of the argument that Special Counsel's Mueller's appointment is unlawful. (Presumably Putin was referring to Steve Calabresi's argument, as I'm unaware of another.) President Putin proceeded to misstate that argument, as he said Mueller's appointment "by Congress" might be illegal under "American legislation." Perhaps Putin didn't have time (with the World Cup and all) to read George Conway's reply to Calabresi.

Who knew constitutional law professors had such a global reach.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

The Loss of the Filibuster and Judicial Confirmation Reform

David Super


     Several commentators are chiding Senate Democrats for procedural missteps that allegedly destroyed their leverage in the confirmation process for Justice Kennedy’s replacement before it even began.  Some criticize Senator Reid for having abolished the filibuster for lower-court nominees, establishing a precedent Senator McConnell invoked when he eliminated the filibuster at the Supreme Court level.  Others criticize Democrats for attempting to filibuster Justice Gorsuch’s nomination, prompting Senator McConnell to act so that the filibuster is not available now.  Neither of these complaints stands up to serious scrutiny.  On the other hand, Democrats’ lack of imagination in 2014 may have cost them an opportunity at least to put Senator McConnell in an awkward position and possibly to garner a more moderate conservative nominee.

     Democrats effectively lost most of the benefit of the filibuster against judicial nominees well before Senator Reid invoked the “nuclear option.”  During President George W. Bush’s administration, Senate Republicans repeatedly threatened to use the “nuclear option” to end the filibuster for judicial nominations in order to force Democrats to accept confirmation of numerous judicial nominees.  Initially Democrats tried being highly selective with their use of the filibuster, allowing through a number of nominees with extreme and troubling records.  When even that was insufficient to placate Republicans, Democrats reached an agreement with Republican senators to allow confirmation of some judges whom had raised serious red flags in exchange for Republicans not employing the “nuclear option.”

     Once Senate Republicans made clear that the filibuster would last only so long as it did not significantly get in their way, it had become effectively useless to Democrats.  At most, it could provide a convenient way of disposing of nominees who had sufficiently embarrassed themselves that Republicans would not want to have them be the public face of the change in Senate procedures.

     Once the filibuster ceased to be useful to Senate Democrats, Senator Reid acted sensibly in denying it to both parties alike.  Senate Republicans gave him little choice, all but shutting down the confirmation process (at least for circuit court nominees) even when nominees raised no particular red flags.  Senate Republicans, astutely, declined to make the kind of deal that Democrats had under President Bush:  to keep the appearance of a filibuster in exchange for a promise not to use it.  Indeed, Senator Reid’s approach was considerably more moderate, and hence less effective, than it could have been:  his rule allowed the minority party to burn off considerable chunks of precious Senate floor time in opposing nominees.  By making the majority party pay a high price for each nominee, this restored confirmation pipeline became a relatively narrow one.  This concession contributed to the number of judgeships remaining unfilled when Republicans won the Senate in 2014 and began blocking nominees wholesale. 

     The same principle applies to the attempt to filibuster Justice Gorsuch’s nomination.  A filibuster that can continue only so long as Democrats never invoke it serves no useful purpose for them.  Indeed, with Senator McConnell and others hinting that they might continue to block Supreme Court nominees for the next four years should Hillary Clinton have won the 2016 election, the situation was entirely parallel to that which led to the elimination of the filibuster for lower-court nominees.  Had Senate Democrats not forced Senator McConnell to choose between the filibuster and Justice Gorsuch’s nomination, Senate Republicans would have happily collected their confirmations and then turned around and filibustered the next Democratic president’s nominees. 

     Indeed, Democrats made the sensible choice in forcing Republicans to eliminate the filibuster over Justice Gorsuch’s nomination – which was tainted procedurally by Republicans’ refusal to consider Judge Garland’s nomination – than waiting for a nomination for a vacancy naturally occurring during President Trump’s term in office.  To be sure, the defeat of Roy Moore and the illness of John McCain have unexpectedly narrowed Republican control of the Senate.  The choice to press the issue against Justice Gorsuch, however, would only prove mistaken if some Senate Republican would vote to confirm Judge Kavanaugh but would not vote to support the elimination of the filibuster when asserted against him.  That such a senator might exist is not inconceivable, but it seems most unlikely with a high-profile nomination like this one:  the pressure to fall into line to ensure Judge Kavanaugh’s confirmation would be ferocious either way.  Going through the “nuclear option” process now might have taken a bit more time, but at this point Senator McConnell is delighted to keep the Senate in session so that vulnerable red-state Democrats cannot go home to campaign.

     That being said, Senator Reid did miss an opportunity to transform the judicial confirmation process in a way that could have been quite embarrassing for Senator McConnell to undo.  He could have considered alternatives beyond blocking most significant nominees (i.e., always allowing the filibuster) and allowing all but the most embarrassing nominees through (i.e., fully extinguishing the filibuster).  A middle ground might be to give the President the option to avoid the filibuster in exchange for accepting some constraints on who is nominated in a way that would moderate the harm to the minority party. 

     In other settings where the filibuster is disallowed, Senate procedures seek to limit the scope of actions that a bare majority may take.  This, when an expert, non-political commission recommends closing military bases, legislation to implement those recommendations has enjoyed substantial procedural protection not available to routine legislation on the subject.  When the Senate invokes cloture on legislation, further amendments must meet strict germaneness rules designed to keep unpleasant surprises from being smuggled in after senators have surrendered their most important defensive weapon.  Legislation to rescind appropriations is immune from filibuster but only if it meets the terms of the Impoundment Control Act.  The content of budget reconciliation legislation similarly is immune from filibuster but constrained by the Byrd Rule.  These limits matter:  the Affordable Care Act might well have died last year had not the Byrd Rule constrained the sweeteners the Republican leadership could offer its wayward senators, and a few sweeteners might have gotten President Trump’s rescission package through the Senate this summer. 

     I have written elsewhere about a process analogous to the one New York relies upon to select its high court judges.  The Senate majority and minority leader would each appoint members of a commission that would develop lists of candidates for various courts.  The Senate could provide by its rule-making power that any presidential nominee on the commission’s list would be assured of an up-or-down vote, immune from filibuster (and entitled to automatic discharge from the Judiciary Committee after a certain number of days and a privileged motion to bring the nomination to the Senate floor for a vote).  The President would remain free to nominate whomever the President pleases, but then the usual Senate procedures (including the filibuster and the majority leader’s prerogative to decline to bring up the nominee for a vote) would apply to nominees lacking the commission’s blessing. 

     One can imagine that the current majority and minority leaders would appoint fierce partisans to such a committee, and perhaps initially it would deadlock.  People of the gravity to be appointed to such a commission, however, tend not to like to waste their time, and unlike senators they do not risk primary challenges if they acknowledge merit in some members of the other party.  Eventually a system of trades would arise, with the opposition party agreeing to some relatively moderate candidates whom the President might like in exchange for adding to the roster some candidates a future president of their party might choose.  Republican Presidents would still appoint conservatives and Democratic Presidents would still appoint liberals, but the need to garner some acquiescence from the opposing party – either senators willing to end a filibuster or commission members willing to sign off on a potential nominee – would tend to moderate the selections. 

     This would, of course, preclude any dramatic Democratic conquest of the judiciary whenever the party retakes the White House, but the odds of that happening are remote in any event.  This also would end the bizarre phenomenon of judges disqualifying themselves for elevation by showing wisdom, moderation, and independence.  And it would largely end the practice of running on a list of prospective judicial nominees, which tends to empower extremists.

     Had Senator Reid instituted such a system when he first acted against the filibuster, Senator McConnell might have had some difficulty explaining why he was undoing it.  And if Democrats endorsed something along these lines now, that might move some Republican senators with qualms about any of President Trump’s appointees who nonetheless do not want to leave open a seat to be filled eventually with a left-wing Democrat.  

Friday, July 13, 2018

The Unintended Consequences of Originalism

Gerard N. Magliocca

The nomination of Judge Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court will raise the profile of originalism in public life, though his confirmation hearings and some of his subsequent opinions. Many people are understandably focused on how a more originalist approach would influence doctrine (say on Roe v. Wade). I want to discuss briefly a different effect that originalism may have on the wider culture.

In May, Illinois ratified the ERA. The lead sponsor of that effort in the state House of Representatives explained on the floor that the amendment was necessary because the Constitution as written does not protect equal rights for women. His authority for that proposition was Justice Scalia. In 2011, Justice Scalia gave an interview in which he said: "Certainly the Constitution does not require discrimination on the bass of sex. The only issue is whether it prohibits it. It doesn't. Nobody ever thought that's what it meant. Nobody ever voted for that." The Illinois Representative offered this as support for the argument that the ERA is necessary to protect sex equality. (In what we in the trade call "ironic," this same representative was accused of sexual harassment the next day and resigned his party leadership post in the Legislature.)

One way of describing this argument is fear-mongering. The doctrine is there for sex equality. And a Supreme Court full of originalists is unlikely to repudiate those precedents. Nevertheless, it would be hard to deny that many people might worry (rightly or wrongly) about a constitutional rollback of gender equality. There are two plausible responses. One is to oppose the confirmation of certain types of Justices. The other is to ratify the ERA and make Justice Scalia's comment obsolete. Thus, an unintended consequence of changing the balance of the Court may be a new Article Five amendment.

Broadly speaking, this development is consistent with the originalist vision. The Constitution should be formally amended rather than changed significantly through interpretation.  Taken seriously, an originalist Constitution ought to be much longer than the one we have. The ERA would be a start.

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Talking about Judge Kavanaugh as a Justice

Mark Tushnet

It's excruciating to read stuff about Judge Kavanaugh as an "originalist," a "textualist," a "conservative in some political theory sense." You want to know how he's going to vote as a Justice over the next few years? (The time qualification is relevant.) 

The first question to ask is whether there is a mainstream Republican conservative view on the issue presented. (a) If there isn't, we have no way of knowing what a Justice Kavanaugh would do. (But, if there isn't, not many ordinary people are going to care. I have a professional interest in seeing how Justices deal with the question of whether a fish is a tangible object, but no sensible person without such an interest cares.) (b) If there is, Justice Kavanaugh will find the mainstream conservative view compelled by "the law." The only interesting question will be how emphatically he talks about compulsion.

The next question, though, is whether there's a difference between the establishment Republican conservative view on the issue and the Trump-Republican view on the issue. If there is, a Justice Kavanaugh will probably find the establishment Republican view more persuasive than the Trump Republican view, though his opinion, if he writes one, will make some concessions to the Trump Republican view (on the implicit theory that Trump Republicans might become the establishment over the next few years). The distinction the Chief Justice drew in the travel-ban case between "this President" and "the Presidency" will have some weight in Justice Kavanaugh's thinking.

Over the course of his time on the Court, the issues of interest to conservative Republicans will change. (There will be a conservative Republican view about legal regulation of artificial intelligence, but we have no idea what that view will be.) The chances are high that even as the issues change, Justice Kavanaugh's positions will not change relative to that of then-existing conservative Republicanism. (Ideological drift, the weaponization of the First Amendment, and all that.) But there's some chance that on some issues he'll be stuck in establishment conservatism circa 2010-15, and might occasionally become a "maverick."

Not for a while, though. Here's a thought experiment/prediction. Suppose Democrats manage to win enough elections to enact Medicare for all in 2022 or 2026, over concerted Republican opposition. Justice Kavanaugh will hold that, though there are constitutionally permissible ways to enact Medicare for all, the one the Democrats chose was unconstitutional on some yet-to-be-devised (but probably lurking somewhere in the Heritage Foundation's papers already) constitutional theory.

"Repealing" Roe v. Wade

Mark Tushnet

A non-trivial number of comments on the Supreme Court going forward refer to the possibility of "repealing" Roe v. Wade. The term isn't universal, of course; there are a lot of references to "overturning" or "overruling" Roe. But the use of the term "repeal" does suggest that the idea that the Supreme Court is like a legislature whose enactments can be repealed (remember "Repeal and Replace"?) has some significant cultural purchase -- and it's a good thing it does.

Brett Kavanaugh's Cliches

Mark Graber


Donald Trump and Brett Kavanaugh offered the American people two clichés when describing how Supreme Court justices should decide cases.  The first is that they must interpret the Constitution as written.  The second is that they should use common sense.  One problem is that in many important cases the two conflict.  The more serious problem is that when the two conflict, Kavanaugh always selects the option that promotes Republican policies and politics.

The Constitution as written belies Kavanaugh’s claims that sitting (Republican) presidents cannot be indicted.  No provision in the Constitution explicitly forbids the indictment of a sitting president.  No provision was self-consciously intended to forbid the indictment of a sitting president.  Of course, an indictment would interfere with presidential duties, but indictments also interfere with the duties of every federal officer mentioned in the Constitution, every federal officer not mentioned in the Constitution, every private person whose actions are of consequence to the federal government, every state official (did someone say 10th Amendment), and every private person whose actions are of consequence to state governments.  For that matter, if we are worried about a distracted president, then the president’s family, friends, and businesses should be immune to criminal processes.  We ought not put down the president’s dog for fear of upsetting the president, even if the dog has rabies and has been biting children.  Common sense permits us to make some distinctions, but none of these distinctions are rooted in the Constitution as written.

If, however, common sense is our guide, then Kavanaugh’s claims that persons have a Second Amendment right to bear assault weapons and that the federal government may prevent a very pregnant alien teenager from having an abortion fall by the wayside.  Common sense and the English language make clear that something called an “assault rifle” is not primarily a defensive weapon.  Common sense and basic human decency make clear that one should not delay abortions for very pregnant frightened teenagers, particularly those who have a limited understanding of the medical system in the United States.  The Constitution as written might be construed to defy common sense, but the arguments for assault weapons and forcing pregnant teenagers to become mothers are rooted solely in the written Constitution, not common sense.

These contradictions bother neither Trump nor Kavanaugh.  When the Constitution as written interferes with Republican policies, they argue common sense.  When common sense interferes with Republican policies, they argue the Constitution as written.  When both are inconsistent with Republican policies and politics, no doubt a different cliché will be trotted out.  That Trump choose the only justice on the short list whose career outside the court was devoted to the single-minded pursuit of Republican party policies and politics says far more about would-be Justice Kavanaugh’s judicial commitments than the clichés uttered when he was nominated.

UPDATE:  Several people have noted that the Minnesota Law Review article in question declares only that Kavanaugh has "serious questions" about whether a president can be criminally indicted.  But, the very slightly modified version of the argument goes, a textualist ought not have serious questions, since the text nowhere indicates presidential (or congressional or judicial) immunity from criminal process.  Such immunity might make common sense and might be consistent with purposive interpretation, but then we are discussing judicial discretion rather than calling balls and strikes.

Monday, July 09, 2018

The 150th Anniversary of the Fourteenth Amendment

Gerard N. Magliocca

On July 9th 1868, the Fourteenth Amendment became part of the Constitution. Abraham Lincoln once said that the Constitution is the silver frame that surrounds the golden apple of the Declaration of Independence. Since Section 1 of the Fourteenth Amendment put Jefferson's language on equality into our higher law, I often wonder whether we should think of John Bingham's text as the golden apple and the rest of the Constitution as the silver frame.

On this anniversary, the President will make his next nomination to the Supreme Court. Tonight and in the coming weeks we will hear a great deal about keeping faith with the Founders. Unfortunately, when many people refer to the Founders they mean only the drafters of the flawed document ratified in 1788. They are either unaware or dismissive of the people who saved the Constitution in 1868. We should keep faith with them as well.

In describing Section One of the Fourteenth Amendment to voters in Ohio, Bingham said this:

No state shall deny to any person, no matter whence he comes, or how poor, how weak, how simple--no matter how friendless--no State shall deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws. If there be any man here who objects to a proposition so just as that, I would like him to rise in his place and let his neighbors look at him and see what manner of man he is. [Nobody stood.]

Thursday, July 05, 2018

Treating Republicans like...

Mark Tushnet

I'm uncertain about whether the following is unworthy of me, but I find it irresistible: Max Boot, in the Washington Post -- "Like postwar Germany and Japan, the Republican Party must be destroyed before it can be rebuilt." My position was not about "destroying" anyone, but about a stance progressives should take in negotiating over culture war issues.We'll see if Boot's op ed attracts the same response as my "take a hard line in negotiating" post did. (Probably not, because it won't generate the anti-semitic and "he's senile" reactions.)

Wednesday, July 04, 2018

The Political Economy of Freedom of Speech in the Second Gilded Age

JB

We are now well into America’s Second Gilded Age. The First Gilded Age was the era of industrial capitalism that begins in the 1870s and 1880s and continued through the first years of the 20th century, ultimately giving way to the reforms of the Progressive Era. The First Gilded Age produced huge fortunes, political corruption, and vast inequalities of wealth, so much so that people became concerned that they would endanger American democracy.

The Second Gilded Age begins, more or less, with the beginning of the digital revolution in the mid-1980s, but it really takes off in the early years of the Internet Age in the mid to late 1990s, and it continues to the present day--characterized by the rise of social media, and the development and implementation of algorithms, artificial intelligence, and robotics. For this reason I call our present era the Algorithmic Society.

If the First Gilded Age is the age of industrial capitalism, the Second Gilded Age is the age of digital or informational capitalism. It too has produced great fortunes and led to concerns that increasing concentrations of wealth and economic inequality are endangering American democracy.  Like the First Gilded Age, it is also a time of deep political corruption and despair about the future of American democracy. It has not yet produced a second Progressive Era, yet every day I see signs that this is where we are headed.

There is a large literature criticizing the judicial doctrines of the First Amendment, and how they are slanted toward the interests of corporations (and capital generally) in the Second Gilded Age. The most obvious examples are the federal courts’ recent decisions on commercial speech and campaign finance regulation. These are interesting and important topics, but they are not the subject of this blog post.

My focus here is on the political economy of free speech in the digital age.  The basic question is this: How does our political and economic system pay for a digital public sphere? It pays for it largely through digital surveillance and through finding ever new ways to make money out of personal data.  Digital capitalism in the Second Gilded Age features an implicit bargain: a seemingly unbounded freedom to speak in exchange for the right to surveil, govern,  and manipulate end-users.

The recent Facebook/Cambridge Analytica controversy is a characteristic scandal of the Second Gilded Age. That is because it laid bare how social media companies make their money and how they shape the public sphere in the process. The scandal also reveals a basic problem of freedom of speech in the Second Gilded Age: Digital privacy undergirds our freedom of expression, but the way we pay for freedom of expression perpetually threatens our digital privacy.  This is the irony of the digital era: An era that promised unbounded opportunities for freedom of expression is also an era of increasing digital control and surveillance. The same technological advances allow both results. The infrastructure of digital free expression is also the infrastructure of digital surveillance.
Read more »

Tuesday, July 03, 2018

"Orthodox" Catholic Judges and Roe v. Wade: A Comment on Coney & Garvey

Mark Tushnet


The following is exceptionally long and likely to be somewhere between controversial and incendiary, though I really don't take a position on the questions I attempt to lay out.

Twenty years ago Amy Coney, then a law clerk soon enter the legal academy, co-authored an article with her soon-to-be colleague John Garvey (now the President of Catholic University) concluding that “Catholic judges (if they are faithful to the teaching of their church) are morally precluded from enforcing the death penalty.” (The article is available at https://scholarship.law.nd.edu/law_faculty_scholarship/527/; I commented on the article at the time, calling it “splendid.” My comment is available at scholarship.law.marquette.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1445&context=mulr.) The article became the focus of some quite misleading discussion during Coney-Barrett’s confirmation hearings, and I think it worth attempting to lay out both the article’s argument and the questions one might legitimately raise based on the analysis. (Until re-reading my comment on the article, I didn’t remember that I had actually made a version of the argument that follows twenty years ago – so at least I can’t be accused of coming up with the argument for this very occasion. [Actually, I have to confess that, though I remembered attending the conference at which the article was initially presented, I hadn’t remembered that I published a comment on the article!])

Read more »

Interviewing Potential Supreme Court Nominees

Mark Tushnet

Apparently, these days an important part of the process by which a President chooses among potential Supreme Court nominees is a personal interview with the President. This "development" is interesting and worth some analysis, I think. I say "development" because it's reasonably clear to me that "the interview" is a relatively recent innovation (though how recent I don't know). Here are some thoughts, in my mind at least relatively a-political, about "the interview."

First, for a long time (I think) an interview would be unnecessary because the President would already know, personally, the potential nominees. The pool consisted of politicians well-known on the national scene (Franklin Roosevelt knew Hugo Black, Dwight Eisenhower knew Earl Warren, George W.Bush knew Clarence Thomas), prominent judges who moved in presidential circles giving speeches and the like (Warren Burger), and prominent members of the bar who moved in those same circles (Owen Roberts, Lewis F. Powell). The development of "the interview" might then reflect changes on both sides of the table: on the President's side, weaker screening before the President's nomination and election, reducing the President's exposure to people in the pool; and on the potential nominees' side, an increasing institutional differentiation between the judiciary and the executive branch -- or, perhaps, the hiving off of expertise within the executive branch of knowledge about who should be in the pool.

Second, most processes involving personal interviews involve a "selector" who knows the qualities sought in a candidate and, importantly, has some reason to think that s/he has the ability to rank candidates along the relevant dimensions (sometimes with input from others in the executive suite). It's not obvious to me that Presidents have that ability, as is suggested by news reports and retrospective interviewing that stress whether the President felt a personal chemistry with the nominee. That makes sense to me. There's no reason to think that a President can do a good job of ranking candidates according to their legal ability, for example (and any decent screening process will whittle down the field to people who get over some "basic ability" hurdle -- including, I have to say, Harriet Miers and others sometimes listed as "unqualified" in news and historical accounts.) A candidate's ability to generate personal chemistry is a relevant characteristic to the extent that it bears on the way in which the person will interact with future colleagues on the Court. But the social group that is the Court is very different from any social group with which a President will be familiar, and (even discounting for the highly artificial nature of "the interview," which characterizes all interview processes) an ability to generate personal chemistry with the President has, I suspect, almost no predictive value about the candidate's potential role inside the Court.

So, third, my sense is that the interview is a combination of the theatricalization of the Presidency, demonstrating to an observing world that the President and not his staff is indeed the real decision-maker, and a sort of Weberian bureaucratization of the selection process, just another box to tick off. (There may well be some scholarly work on "the interview," though the most important work on how lists are generated and winnowed down doesn't deal with it.)

Monday, July 02, 2018

Contrary to Popular Belief, the Court Did Not Hold that the Travel Ban is Lawful—Anything But. (Which Makes Its Ruling, Justice Kennedy’s Deference, and the President’s Enforcement of the Ban Even More Indefensible.)

Marty Lederman


Cross-posted at Just Security.

Not surprisingly, most early reports of the Supreme Court’s decision last Tuesday in Trump v. Hawaii dramatically pronounced that the Supreme Court had declared President Trump’s “Travel Ban III” to be “valid” or “lawful” or “constitutional.”  The President himself excitedly tweeted:  “SUPREME COURT UPHOLDS TRUMP TRAVEL BAN. Wow!”

Don’t believe the hype.

In fact, not a single Justice on the Court decided—or even suggested—that Proclamation 9645’s exclusion of entry of nationals from five Muslim-majority countries (Iran, Libya, Somalia, Syria and Yemen) is lawful.  More importantly still, five of the Justices actually concluded that it violates the First Amendment (although, as I’ll discuss shortly, Justice Kennedy inexplicably chose to be a bit indirect, and sheepish, about that conclusion). 

But if that’s the case—if the only five Justices who opined on the merits concluded that the Travel Ban is unconstitutional—then why did the Court rule for Trump? 

Because the Court applied a highly deferential standard of review.  A 5-4 majority of the Justices held, in effect, that even if the Proclamation is unconstitutional there’s nothing the Court can do about it. 

That disposition, as I’ll explain, is indefensible on a couple of grounds—(i) that the Court does not adequately defend its deferential posture and, more importantly, (ii) that the Travel Ban fails even the “rational basis review” the Court applied, because its only effect is to exclude entry into the U.S. of individuals who can demonstrate that they are not dangerous (or otherwise inadmissible).  Accordingly, the Travel Ban is “inexplicable by anything but animus” (slip op. at 33 (quoting Romer v. Evans)), and therefore is unconstitutional.    

The majority’s resolution is especially unfortunate because this is a case in which the Court’s conclusion—that the President conceivably might have promulgated the Travel Ban for independent reasons of national security—is belied by a fundamental thing that virtually everyone knows (and that the Court does not deny): namely, that the Travel Ban would not exist but for its foreseeable effect in excluding Muslims from entry, and the fact that it makes good on the President’s campaign promises to his constituency that he’d impose a “total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States” because “we can’t allow people coming into this country who have this hatred of the United States . . . [a]nd of people that are not Muslim.”

It’s especially disappointing that Justice Kennedy went along with this charade, because his vote to reverse the preliminary injunction—the vote that decided the case—betrayed each one of the core principles that Jack Goldsmith rightly describes as the pillars of his jurisprudence over the past 30 years and his (desired) legacy:  honoring the dignity of all persons; preserving liberty; and enshrining a “robust conception of judicial power” to check the constitutional errors of political actors.  (More on this below.)

Make no mistake, however:  As Justice Kennedy himself unambiguously signals in his separate opinion, the President is, indeed, “disregard[ing] the Constitution and the rights it proclaims and protects” (Kennedy op. at 1), and thereby violating his oath of office, by continuing to enforce the Travel Ban.  And those officials who are assisting him in doing so, or advising him that he may continue to do so despite knowing full well that there is no national security basis for the ban and that it therefore is unconstitutional for the reasons expressed by a majority of the Court in Trump v. Hawaii, are violating their own oaths, and ignoring the “imperative . . . to adhere to the Constitution and to its meaning and its promise” (id.).  This case thus illustrates an important lesson that's often overlooked:  The political branches have a duty to comply with the Constitution even in cases where the Court is, for institutional reasons, unwilling or unable to enforce constitutional norms.  

* * * *

I.  A Court Majority Rejected the Mythical Plenary Power Doctrine and Held that the First Amendment Bars Religious Discrimination in the Admission of Foreign Nationals

Let’s start with a very important and remarkable thing about Trump v. Hawaii that most reports and observers have, perhaps understandably, overlooked in the tumult of the past few days:  A majority of the Court rejected, for the first time, the “strong” version of the so-called “plenary power doctrine” of immigration law, i.e., the proposition that the political branches are wholly unconstrained by the Constitution in choosing who can and cannot enter the United States.
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