Balkinization  

Monday, December 23, 2019

A Very Strange Debate

David Super


     Even before last week’s impeachment vote in the House, a strange debate had begun about how the House should proceed with its articles of impeachment.  Some have suggested that the House should never send those articles to the Senate to trigger a trial on whether President Trump should remain in office.  Others have suggested that the House should wait until later in the year or somehow hold those articles hostage until Senator McConnell agrees to trial procedures to the Democrats’ liking.  Some have suggested that the Senate could go ahead and hold an impeachment trial without the House forwarding its articles of impeachment.  In the course of this debate, scholars have opined on such esoteric questions as when is a president truly impeached. 

     Many of the commentators participating in this debate rely on misunderstandings of congressional procedure.  Others operate on rather fanciful understandings of politics.  And all too many are trying to find a clear legalistic answer to a question that is essentially one of public perceptions.  I believe that the House should present its articles of impeachment to the Senate as soon as possible after Congress returns in January and that failing to do so is likely to undermine the very purposes the House has sought to serve through impeachment. 

     Any analysis must, of course, start with the question of what those purposes are or should be.  It is not, as some Republicans like to claim, reversing the result of the 2016 election.  The most impeachment could possibly achieve would be to install Vice President Pence, who prevailed in that same election and has enthusiastically supported President Trump’s policies without exception.  And even if the indications of Vice President Pence’s involvement in extorting Ukraine blossomed into something worthy of impeachment, the Republican Senate would never remove him from office before he had had the chance to appoint, and Congress to confirm, a new Republican vice president. 

     The realistic goal also cannot be removal of Donald Trump from office before the expiration of his current term.  We have absolutely no indications that anything like twenty Republican senators would even consider removing him from office.  Some have suggested that postponing the trial until after the Senate primaries will free Republican senators to vote to remove President Trump.  That is unrealistic for several reasons.  First, many of the primaries are quite late:  more than half are during or after August.  Holding an impeachment trial in the summer to foreshorten presidency subject to the voters’ review a few months later will strike many voters, including plenty who are skeptical of President Trump, as gratuitous.  Second, even apart from primaries, Republican senators in contested races will fear dampened enthusiasm among the President’s base should they vote to remove the President could dampen general election turn-out.  Third, the numbers are wrong:  the number of Republican senators up for re-election is just barely enough to supply the votes needed to convict, and that is counting some of the President’s biggest congressional supporters.  Finally, and most crucially, very, very few Republican senators have given even the slightest indication that they have any interest in removing the President.  This Trump exceptionalism – the delusion that the President is an aberrational figure in a largely wholesome Republican Party – is one of the greatest impediments to thoughtful responses to the current situation.  I have yet to hear a plausible list of potential removal-voting Republican senators with even a dozen names, much less twenty. 

     The Democrats’ plausible goals for impeachment are, and have always been, considerably more modest:  to better inform the U.S. electorate of some of the unlawful and unethical actions taken in their name, to compel congressional Republicans to choose between defending the Constitution and defending the President, and to deter this sort of behavior in the future.  The cost of achieving these goals has always been steep:  forcing Democrats in pro-Trump districts to cast difficult, perhaps lethal, votes and increasing the cynicism of relatively apolitical voters who condemn “squabbling” without looking thoughtfully at the merits. 

     For many months after last year’s election, Speaker Nancy Pelosi took the view that this price was too high, that congressional Democrats would damage themselves more than they would the President by pursuing impeachment.  As one of the most successful politicians of our era – one who led Democrats to a House majority not once but twice and who has remained true to Democratic priorities throughout her career – the Speaker’s voice bears careful consideration. 

     The combination of the President’s brazenness in seeking to extort Ukraine into helping his re-election and ceaseless pressure from Democratic activists persuaded her to reverse course.  In the process, she brought along every Democrat except Rep. Colin Peterson, whose Minnesota district is deeply conservative, Rep. Jeff Van Drew, who turned out not to really want to be a Democrat, and Rep. Tulsi Gabbard, who long ago demonstrated that she has a very different agenda.  Forcing Democrats in conservative districts to cast votes that their opponents will portray as ultra-partisan and mean-spirited could cost Democrats enough seats to lose control of the House in the next Congress; even if it does not, it could leave them with a bare majority but little ability to win controversial votes. 

     It seems quite remarkable that some voices are now suggesting that the House Democrats, having paid this price for impeachment, should give up the benefits of holding a Senate trial to further educate the electorate and to force Republican senators to decide whether to declare the President’s conduct acceptable.  (Until the House “exhibit[s]” authenticated articles of impeachment to the Senate, Senate rules make no provision for holding an impeachment trial – and Senate Republicans clearly would not want to do so in any event.)  If House Democrats did not want a Senate trial, they should have passed a resolution of censure instead, putting their endangered Members in much less of a bind.  Playing arcane procedural games that few voters will understand seems likely only to exacerbate public cynicism and the difficulties of endangered House Democrats. 

     The notion that, by withholding the articles of impeachment, House Democrats can extract procedural concessions from Senator McConnell, is preposterous.  As Senator McConnell has pointed out repeatedly, threatening to withhold something he does not want provides little leverage.  It is like my saying I will refuse to dump a thousand gallons of toxic sludge on your lawn unless you give me a million dollars.  On the other hand, as I previously explained here and further elaborated in the Washington Post, permanent Senate rules and the decisions of Chief Justice Roberts, not Senator McConnell, will set the rules for a Senate trial and are likely to give the House’s impeachment managers ample opportunity to subpoena Administration officials.  Senator McConnell clearly knows this; the Democrats would do well to tailor their strategy accordingly. 

     As for the questions of whether President Trump really has been impeached if the House never sends articles of impeachment to the Senate and whether the President would prefer to prevail in a Senate trial or to never have one, I do not know and I do not care.  The former is a question of empty symbolism:  the President’s place in history will not be determined by such technicalities but rather by his unprecedented relationship with Russia, by his transformation of the mores of the presidency, and by his throwing sobbing immigrant children into cages.  The second question represents an unhealthy substitution of personal concerns for advancing the well-being of the country:  we should be focusing on restoring our political institutions – which includes in part communicating with voters in ways they understand – and on ending our shameful treatment of immigrants rather than on the vanity of one man. 

     A Senate trial is no panacea.  It will end with acquittal.  But voters who discounted the House hearings as a partisan spectacle may find a Senate trial, with the President fully represented and the Chief Justice presiding, much more persuasive.  And establishing once and for all which senators are willing to accept what the President has done may play an important role in reforming or replacing the Republican Party. 



@davidasuper1

Saturday, December 21, 2019

The Impeachment Oath and the Article VI Oath

David Pozen


Pursuant to Rule XXV of the Rules of Procedure and Practice in the Senate When Sitting on Impeachment Trials, every senator will soon swear or affirm to “do impartial justice according to the Constitution and laws” “in all things appertaining to the trial of the impeachment” of President Trump.  This rule implements the instruction in Article I, Section 3, Clause 6 of the Constitution that senators “shall be on Oath or Affirmation” when trying impeachments.  Historians have suggested that having a special impeachment oath was meant to reinforce the solemnity of the affair; Rule XXV links that solemnity to an ideal of adjudicative impartiality.

The senators have, of course, already taken another constitutional oath.  Pursuant to Rule III of the Standing Rules of the Senate, which implements the Oath Clause of Article VI, every senator swears or affirms before assuming office to “support and defend the Constitution.”  As Richard Re observes, this ritual is the most prominent social practice through which American officials promise adherence to our supreme law.

These two oaths must be reconciled.  The promise to support and defend the Constitution binds senators in all that they do on the job.  There is no lex specialis governing impeachment trials that could displace that general duty.

The interaction of these oaths suggests a potential complication I have not seen noted in the flurry of recent commentary on the impeachment one.  Given sky-high levels of constitutional polarization as well as the “existential” bent of contemporary GOP constitutional politics, a number of Republican senators may have convinced themselves, at least on some level, that protecting President Trump from their fundamentally lawless and un-American Democratic colleagues is precisely what “supporting and defending” the Constitution entails—no matter what the evidence might show about Trump’s abuses of power.  (If this sounds extreme, recall that both the 2012 and 2016 Republican presidential platforms declare the GOP, and only the GOP, to be “the party of the Constitution.”)  And so, for these senators, the Article VI oath seems to demand a kind of partiality toward the president that the impeachment oath seems to forbid.

These senators probably won’t be so brazen as to stand up and announce that, in this instance, their impeachment-specific duty to do impartial justice must be overridden by their larger duty to support and defend the Constitution.  More likely, they will try to minimize any tension between these two duties in their judgments of law and fact through various “strategies of reconciliation.”   For instance, they might conclude, for the sorts of reasons Marty Lederman has discussed on this blog, that “impartiality” must be understood loosely, perhaps even aspirationally, in the inherently politicized impeachment context.  Or they might read Rule XXV’s “according to the Constitution” clause to tie the meaning of impartial justice to a broader assessment of constitutional fidelity (which, again, in their minds may counsel doing whatever it takes to thwart the diabolical Democrats).  Or they might construe the command of impartial justice in light of what they see as the larger injustice of the Democratic effort to whitewash Joe Biden’s corruption and to undermine the Trump presidency.  Enabling all such strategies, they might also enlist some good old-fashioned motivated reasoning to deny the validity or to discount the significance of any apparent proof of presidential misconduct.

All of which is to say, narrow inquiries into the impeachment oath may mislead.  For this is one more area in which the belief that your political rivals are themselves a threat to the Constitution has enormous power to rationalize—not necessarily justify, but rationalize—conduct that would otherwise clearly run afoul of controlling legal directives.

Friday, December 20, 2019

Invisible Workers on the Global Assembly Line: Behind the Screen

Guest Blogger

Catherine Powell and Abigail Van Buren

During a recent Council on Foreign Relations roundtable we hosted, Dr. Sarah T. Roberts spoke about a global digital workforce that is largely hidden from consumers—content moderation. Content moderators determine whether user-generated content should remain online or be removed, based on a set of rules established by each digital platform that screens for content. Because tech companies often outsource content moderation to workers who can work informally from home, at first blush, these jobs seem particularly well-suited to women who are caring for young children and other workers seeking flexible work schedules. In her newly published book, Behind the Screen: Content Moderation in the Shadows of Social Media, Roberts tells a less sanguine story about the world of content moderation, which increasingly plays a major role in keeping social media firms functioning.

Dr. Roberts outlined two concerns that have emerged in the context of this largely invisible workforce: (1) the harsh conditions inherent in this type of work, and (2) the fact that the relative invisibility of this workforce helps sustain the myth that what we see online is an unmediated space of free speech and open markets. In fact, with the commercialization of the internet, content moderation is part and parcel of maintaining the brand integrity of social media platforms and maintaining norms of civility on the web. Essentially, content moderators shield us as users from hateful, violent, traumatizing content to keep us coming back to digital platforms. The volume of misogynist—and often violently misogynist—materials online makes the work of female content moderators particularly traumatizing.

As users, we experience what appears to be a free exchange of ideas, free speech, and unrestricted movement of economic transactions. In fact, “behind the screen,” content moderators face an almost impossible mandate to filter through what not only should be taken off platforms, but what should be left on. Users of social media can post content from anywhere in the world, at any time. With access to a global workforce in multiple time zones (with literacy in multiple languages), platforms can enlist content moderators in a range of sites to continuously and seamlessly maintain constant vigilance in screening and taking down offensive content.

The stress and psychological damage of appraising thousands of the worst images and texts humanity can conjure up creates an ecosystem of harm for those who moderate content. Given what is at stake for platforms, one would expect a comparable wage to match. However, this is not the case. The workforce is not only low-waged, but low-valued. As one of us has previously written, while tech sector jobs could provide tremendous opportunities for women, women are often concentrated in low-skilled tech jobs like call centers, or work in isolated environments where they cannot advocate for themselves (or with others) as workers. Companies often outsource content moderation to workers who can work informally from home at hours in which their work is needed. However, as Roberts remarked, tech companies have intentionally designed an alienating experience for content moderators to prevent organizing and whistleblowing. Like other workers along the global assembly line one of us has written about previously, content moderators face systemic hurdles to protesting conditions, which makes these workers particularly vulnerable.

Read more »

Thursday, December 19, 2019

Obamacare, Separation of Powers, and Accountability

Abbe Gluck

Yesterday, the Fifth Circuit finally issued a decision Texas v. U.S, the latest existential challenge to the Affordable Care Act---which many forget was entirely struck off the books last year by a federal judge in Texas known for his anti-ACA rulings.  Rather than reverse the lower court outright, however, the Fifth Circuit sent it back down, effectively kicking the case--and the Trump Administration's accountability for its efforts to destroy the law--until after the election, just as the Administration had hoped.

The opinion is important because it correctly chides the lower court for ignoring the position of the 2017 Congress when the court decided that the entire ACA must fall simply because Congress zeroed out the penalty that was to enforce the ACA's insurance-purchase requirement. The case also illustrates the very important role that severability doctrine plays in separation of powers-- the  lower court substituted its own policy judgment about the ACA for the clearly expressed position of the 2017 Congress (a position notably taken after more than 60 failed attempts to repeal the law) that the ACA should remain in place.   I have more to say about it in this op-ed,  just published in the NY Times, which begins as follows.

Who will Americans blame when they lose their health care?
Almost exactly a year ago, a federal judge in Texas who is widely known for his anti-Affordable Care Act rulings wiped the entire health care law off the books. That’s right. Not only the quality-control measures and the requirements of coverage for pre-existing-conditions and that young adults can remain on their parents’ plans but also the Medicaid expansion, Medicare’s new drug benefits and countless other reforms. Many Americans don’t realize how many benefits they currently enjoy come from the Affordable Care Act, which has given tens of millions access to health care over the past decade.
On Wednesday, the federal appellate court reviewing the case finally issued its decision. It refused to reverse the lower court outright. Instead, it did President Trump and Republicans a big favor and sent the case back down to the same judge and in so doing all but ensured that there would be no ruling on the law’s fate until after the 2020 election. The court has enabled Mr. Trump to escape accountability to the voters for his efforts to destroy the law.

More here

The problem isn't GOP Senators' lack of "impartiality"--it's that they're all insisting the President did nothing wrong

Marty Lederman

As my colleague David Super points out in his recent must-read post, in the forthcoming impeachment trial the Senate Rules will require each Senator to swear an oath "that in all things appertaining to the trial of the impeachment of Donald Trump . . . I will do impartial justice according to the Constitution and laws."  

David suggests this could present a problem for Lindsey Graham, who's already declared he's "not trying to pretend to be a fair juror here” and will vote against removing the President.  Perhaps.  But I'm not sure the absence of "impartiality" is the crux of the real concern here.

Read more »

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Withholding the Articles of Impeachment

Gerard N. Magliocca

The question on the table now that President Trump is impeached is when the trial might occur. I say "might" because some members of the House are arguing that managers should not be appointed to prosecute the case until the Senate gives some assurances about the trial process. Taking that point one step further, others are claiming that the House can refuse to appoint managers and that (if none are selected) no trial can occur and no acquittal can be rendered.

I don't think that this latter claim this is correct. The Constitution grants the Senate the sole power to try impeachments, subject to only the requirements listed in Article One, Section Three. The House can choose to boycott a Senate trial, I suppose. But I don't see why the Senate cannot hold a trial based on the articles of impeachment themselves and the existing written record. Granted, trials in absentia invariably involve defendants who boycott the proceedings, not prosecutors. To hold that the House's presence at the trial is constitutionally required, though, strikes me as an infringement upon the Senate's exclusive power over impeachment trials.

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

How Will the Senate Proceed on Impeachment?

David Super


     With Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell declaring that there is no daylight between his and the White House’s plans for an impeachment trial, many Democrats have begun raising the specter of a sham trial that leaves the President’s conduct all but unexamined.  Senate Minority Leader Charles Schumer drew headlines with a letter to Senator McConnell setting out his caucus’s desires for how a trial should proceed.  Sen. McConnell’s negative response brought Democratic charges of a cover-up.

     Strikingly missing from this coverage is a realization that Sens. McConnell and Schumer are, in fact, two of the least-important figures in determining how an impeachment trial would occur.  This trial, like most trials, will be governed by standing procedural rules, the presiding judge, and the initiatives of the parties to the proceedings.  Those will be Chief Justice Roberts, the impeachment managers appointed by the House, and President Trump.  Senator McConnell is little more than the equivalent of the foreman of the jury. 

Read more »

Monday, December 16, 2019

The Good Ol' Days of Solicitor General Humility (and Reconsideration): Some Things You Probably Didn't Know About Myers v. United States [UPDATED]

Marty Lederman

I was just rereading the briefs and arguments in the landmark Myers v. United States (1926) case, and ran across a small thing I thought some readers might appreciate, reflecting how very different Supreme Court practice is today than it was a century ago.

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Saturday, December 14, 2019

Symposium on Mary Anne Franks, The Cult of the Constitution: Collected Posts

JB


Here are the collected posts for our Balkinization symposium on Mary Anne Franks' new book, The Cult of the Constitution (Stanford University Press, 2019).


Frank Pasquale and Danielle Keats Citron, Introduction to the Symposium

Anupam Chander, Mary Anne Franks as Constitutional Truth-Teller

Joseph Blocher, The Second Amendment of Things (and Grievances)

Claudia Haupt, First Amendment Fundamentalism and Doctrinal Disarray

Jack Balkin, An Anti-fundamentalist Believer in the Church of the American Constitution

Leslie Kendrick, A Tale of Two Cities: Mary Anne Franks’s The Cult of the Constitution

Jeff Kosseff, The View from the Cult

Frank Pasquale and Danielle Keats Citron, Making a Virtue Out of Neglect: How Laissez-Faire Constitutionalism Exacerbates Big Tech’s Absentee Ownership Problem

Sanford Levinson, It's So Difficult to Break Free of a Cult

Mary Anne Franks, Constitutional Reckoning



Thursday, December 12, 2019

Involving Orcs

Andrew Koppelman



Our adversaries are irredeemably evil. They are animated by malice and greed. They want to enslave us, to make us mere instruments of their unworthy desires. We have nothing to discuss with them. The task of clear-eyed writers is not to engage sympathetically with their ideas, but to expose them for what they are so that the people can unite to defeat them. 

This is the narrative offered by Ayn Rand, whose mid-twentieth century work still commands a huge audience. She advocates, as the only politics decent people can embrace, an extreme and harsh libertarianism. Those who fail to perceive the moral necessity of unregulated capitalism are evil or stupid, probably both. All social insurance and regulation, from Social Security to the prohibition of pollution, is a step toward Stalinist tyranny.  

The blogger John Rogers famously observed

"There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old’s life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other, of course, involves orcs."

Actually they both involve orcs—inherently demonic creatures, irretrievably evil. And so does Lisa Duggan’s new book Mean Girl: Ayn Rand and the Culture of Greed. Duggan capably shows how Rand’s story rationalizes plutocracy and cruelty.  In her depiction, Rand is an orc and so are her fans. 

Duggan is a careful and honest scholar, and everything she says about Rand is true. But she is selling a different version of the same Manichean narrative. Her portrait of the libertarian right is as one-sided as Rand’s portrait of the redistributive left. Duggan fails to grasp some of the deepest sources of Rand’s appeal to otherwise decent people—the value of individual creativity, the benefits of capitalism, and the possibility of state overreach—and so misses opportunities to find common ground with many who are drawn to Rand’s minimal-state dogma. Drawing people, particularly young people, away from that dogma is morally urgent, but it won’t happen unless Rand’s legitimate attractions are understood. 

That is the beginning of my newly published review of Duggan’s book at the New Rambler, here.



Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Analyzing the Articles of Impeachment

Stephen Griffin


Before diving into the details of the two articles submitted today by House Democrats, I will make two points about the Trump impeachment that have been overlooked by most observers, especially (ahem) journalists.

The articles of impeachment submitted today are arguably the first in American history not to be grounded ultimately in allegations that the president committed a federal crime or other violation of law.  This single fact creates unique opportunities and challenges for both parties going forward.  For Democrats, it means they do not have to worry about whether the established facts satisfy the technicalities of a crime such as bribery or obstruction of justice.  For Republicans, it creates the opportunity to respond by demanding clear criteria for the somewhat abstract offense of “abuse of power.”  For example, haven’t all presidents abused their power to some extent?  Democrats have the corresponding challenge of defending their criteria as specific and arguing that Trump is different from past presidents.  They go some distance toward doing this in the first article by referring to “the integrity of the United States democratic process.”

A second aspect of this impeachment missed so far by many political observers is that in terms of the 2020 presidential election, it matters at least as much whether President Trump is checked by the impeachment process as whether he is removed and disqualified from holding office.
Read more »

Constitutional Reckoning

Guest Blogger

For the Symposium on Mary Anne Franks, The Cult of the Constitution (Stanford University Press, 2019).

Mary Anne Franks

On July 25, 1974, Representative Barbara Jordan of Texas opened her argument for impeaching the President the of the United States by reflecting on the preamble to the Constitution. Jordan, the first African-American Congresswoman elected from the South, noted that when those words were written, she was not included in the Constitution's protections.  But “through the process of amendment, interpretation and court decision I have finally been included in 'We, the people.’” Congresswoman Jordan continued, "My faith in the Constitution is whole, it is complete, it is total. I am not going to sit here and be an idle spectator to the diminution, the subversion, the destruction of the Constitution.”

It was an extraordinary moment: a black woman calling the most powerful white man in the country to account by invoking a document intended to enshrine white male supremacy. It is a moment that captures many of the themes of The Cult of the Constitution: the hard-fought struggle to turn “we the people” from legal fiction into reality; the exploitation of the Constitution to serve the interests of a powerful elite; and the power of the Constitution to halt this abuse. I am grateful to the organizers of this symposium, Danielle Citron and Frank Pasquale, as well as all of the contributors, for their thoughtful engagement with my work and the questions and critiques they have provided. While I cannot hope to do justice to the nuance and range of these contributions, I offer here a limited reflection on one thread that runs through many of them as well as through my book: the question of who “we” are.  

The final words of Leslie Kendrick's eloquent contribution are "we are all living in Charlottesville.” But, as her invitation to ponder Frederick Schauer’s article Uncoupling Free Speech underscores, the consequences of this depend very much on who “we” are. According to Schauer, “existing understandings of the First Amendment are based on the assumption that, because a price must be paid for free speech, it must be the victims of harmful speech who are to pay it.” That is, the cost of free speech does not burden “us” equally, but is disproportionately borne by those, to borrow the words of Mari Matsuda, “least able to pay.” Schauer seeks to resist this assumption, arguing that "if free speech benefits us all, then ideally we all ought to pay for it, not only those who are the victims of harmful speech.” 

Schauer’s article brings into focus how the concept of “we the people” - with regard to the First Amendment and beyond - continues to promote a false universalism even after it no longer formally excludes women and nonwhite persons. First Amendment fundamentalists speak of the cost of free speech as a price “we” all must pay, which disguises how the victims of harmful speech suffer far more than those who are not targeted. Jeff Kosseff’s contribution candidly acknowledges this disparity, encouraging his "fellow free speech cultists -- the civil liberties groups, the journalists, the media lawyers, the technology companies” to “consider nuanced solutions that preserve our extraordinary free speech rights while minimizing harms to others and allowing everyone to have a voice.  ... [C]onsider how we can work together to open avenues to speech for all Americans, and not just the privileged.” Anupam Chander worries, however, that regulation of online content “will inevitably suppress the speech of not only white male supremacists, but also marginalized groups.” 

How restricting the powerful may also restrict the vulnerable is a significant concern, but one of the most disturbing tendencies of constitutional fundamentalism is the way it allows the powerful to cast themselves as the vulnerable, a tactic I call “victim-claiming." As Joseph Blocher notes in his contribution, this tactic is used to great effect by Second Amendment fundamentalists, who successfully leverage the nonexistent threat to gun rights to “protect guns in ways that extend ‘the right to keep and bear arms’ far beyond the right articulated in Heller.” That extension includes the attempt to curtail First Amendment rights for the sake of the Second, as illustrated in a case that Claudia Haupt sharply criticizes in her contribution, Wollschlaeger v. Governor of Florida (also known as “Docs v Glocks”).

In my book, I write that while Charlottesville is who we are, it is also not all we are. In my view, the equal protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment offers a way to make good on the promise of “we the people.” This is not to fetishize the equal protection clause, but rather to leverage it against selective uses of other parts of the Constitution. Adhering to the imperative of equal protection, which I read as an expression of the principle of reciprocity expressed in numerous philosophical and religious traditions, is how we can most effectively guard against self-interest and the division between “us” and “them." Jack Balkin and Sandy Levinson both take issue with this, emphasizing the decidedly inegalitarian realities of the Fourteenth Amendment as well as of the religious and philosophical traditions underpinning the principle of reciprocity. Their takeaways from this diverge: Balkin suggests that what I am really advocating for is constitutional redemption; Levinson indicates that what I really should be advocating for is constitutional revolution. 

But my goal is neither constitutional redemption nor constitutional revolution, but constitutional reckoning. The primary target of The Cult of the Constitution is bad faith, or the selective appropriation of the Constitution for self-interested ends. It is a project that calls for judgment - of texts, yes, but even more importantly, of people. It is vital, in my view, to openly and accurately credit those who have truly struggled to make “we the people” mean what it says, while condemning those who use it to promote “us over them.” As Thurgood Marshall observed in “Reflections on the Bicentennial of the United States Constitution,” “’We the People’ no longer enslave, but the credit does not belong to the framers. It belongs to those who refused to acquiesce in outdated notions of ‘liberty,’ ‘justice,’ and ‘equality,’ and who strived to better them.”

As Frank Pasquale and Danielle Citron note, “law’s halo” has a powerful effect on the perceived legitimacy of particular acts and omissions. The Constitution’s halo, for better or for worse, remains incredibly potent. One can wish we had a better Constitution, or hope that this one will be abolished, or strive to amend it, but anyone not solely confined within the legal professoriate must also contend with it as it is.

Forty-five years after Congresswoman Jordan’s speech, another woman invoked the preamble to the Constitution and her faith in the document to call for the President of the United States to be impeached. On December 4, 2019, Professor Pam Karlan of Stanford Law School told Congress, "Our Constitution begins with the words 'We the People’ for a reason. Our government, in James Madison's words, 'derives all its powers directly or indirectly from the great body of the people.’” Karlan, like Jordan before her, denounced the President’s violation of his duty to protect and defend the Constitution. "If we are to keep faith with the Constitution and our Republic,” Professor Karlan stated, "President Trump must be held to account.” The stakes of a constitutional reckoning could not be higher. 



Mary Anne Franks is Professor of Law & Dean's Distinguished Scholar at the University of Miami School of Law. You can reach her by e-mail at mafranks at law.miami.edu

Friday, December 06, 2019

Fairness for All, a good idea nearly everyone hates

Andrew Koppelman



America is now so politically polarized that it’s hard to get both sides of any major issue into the same room to talk to one another.  That’s why the Fairness for All Act, which was introduced today, is such a major accomplishment.

The Act, the product of intense negotiation between advocates of the religious right and of the gay rights movement, offers a compromise in the bitter gay rights/religious liberty conflict.  It provides LGBT people with nationwide protection against discrimination in employment, housing, public accommodations, adoption and foster care, and education.  But it also protects religious institutions’ right to organize themselves around their distinctive sexual morality.

Predictably, it has almost no friends and is being denounced by both sides.  Some prominent outlets, such as Buzzfeed, are attributing it to “House Republicans,” not mentioning that most Republicans oppose it because of the broad protections it gives to gay people.

This issue has taken on an importance far beyond the tiny number who have made such claims.  Gay rights advocates fear that exempting even a few religious dissenters would unleash a devastating wave of discrimination.  Conservative Christians fear that the law will treat them like racists and drive them to the margins of American society.

I’ve been an advocate of LGBT rights for more than thirty years.  The bill is cause for celebration.  The present paralysis is good for no one, gay people least of all.  In most of the US, there is no antidiscrimination protection at all.  Twenty-nine states have no such laws, and no new ones have been enacted since 2008. 

Read more »

The Constitutional Politics of Impeachment

Mark Graber

My thoughts over on Jurist

Wednesday, December 04, 2019

Fair Play or the Rule of Law?

Gerard N. Magliocca

The rule of law is at the center of modern constitutional thought. The phrase "rule of law" was coined in the late nineteenth century by A.V. Dicey, the influential British constitutional scholar. People have different views about what this ideal means today, but the importance of the rule of law is not denied. Indeed, we often hear worries that government actions pose a threat to the rule of law or are vital to  protecting that principle.

If you look back at the leading democratic leaders of the twentieth century, though, they said little about the rule of law. Instead, they emphasized the importance of "fair play." For instance, in his 1937 Constitution Day Address, President Franklin D. Roosevelt said: "The surest protection of the individual and of minorities is that fundamental tolerance and feeling for fair play which the Bill of Rights assumes. But tolerance and fair play would disappear here as it has in some other lands if the great mass of people were denied confidence in their justice, their security and their self-respect." In 1946, Winston Churchill told a Dutch audience that one of his tests for a successful democracy was whether independent courts “administer public and well-established laws associated in the human mind with the broad principles of fair play and justice? Will there be fair play for the poor as well as the rich? Will there be fair play for private persons as well as for Government officials?"

I do not know why fair play fell into decline as a democratic principle or why the rule of law became the slogan of choice. There is, though, an important difference between the two. The rule of law says  nothing about the substance of the law or about governmental norms. By contrast, fair play is a test that governs all official actions and does speak to the substance of what they do. One might say that the rule of law is a necessary, but not a sufficient, condition for constitutional democracy. 

Consider the current impeachment inquiry. When people allege that the President abused his power, they do not mean that he violated a statute or a court order. They are saying instead that he was being deeply unfair to the other party--it was not fair play. There are many legal actions that can be seen as not fair play (including FDR's own Court-packing plan, defeated in 1937). But how should fair play be defined? How did these past leaders define that idea? These are important questions worth asking.  
    

Tuesday, December 03, 2019

Drafting Articles of Impeachment

Stephen Griffin


Now that many (though certainly not all) of the relevant facts concerning President Trump’s Ukraine affair are in, House Democrats face crucial choices.  Drafting articles of impeachment is no boilerplate task.  How the Judiciary Committee chooses to define Trump’s transgressions may have far-reaching consequences.  In drafting articles of impeachment Democrats are not merely determining their trial strategy in the Senate.  They are also setting the boundaries of public debate, laying the foundation for how the impeachment will be assessed, win or lose, in the 2020 presidential campaign, as well as how it will be regarded as a “precedent” for future presidents (including Trump himself if he wins a second term). 

Yet Democrats are about to encounter an issue which so far has been little discussed.  What is coming down the pike is arguably the first presidential impeachment in American history to be centered around an abuse of power not strongly connected with a crime or, for that matter, any violation of law.  This is potentially a game-changing constitutional moment.

Many commentators have the impression that past presidential impeachments have also involved non-criminal charges.  I detail why I believe this is mistaken in this article, which I will not further summarize.  For purposes of argument, let’s entertain the idea that there is something profoundly different about the Trump impeachment compared to the Nixon and Clinton impeachments – and Iran-contra, the scandal in which the impeachment of President Reagan was contemplated seriously.  We will then be able to see that the task facing Democrats is harder than they may believe.
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Burying McCulloch?

Guest Blogger

For the symposium on David S. Schwartz, The Spirit of the Constitution: John Marshall and the 200-Year Odyssey of McCulloch v. Maryland (Oxford University Press, 2019).

David Schwartz

Kurt Lash is a superb constitutional historian trapped inside the body of an originalist. He is one of the few originalists bold enough to acknowledge that McCulloch v. Maryland needs to be ejected from the (conservative) originalist canon of great constitutional cases. While he attributes to me an intention “not to praise the mythological McCulloch, but to bury it,” it is Lash who seeks to bury McCulloch, which he views as a fraudulent “story of our constitutional origins.”

Characteristically, Lash’s debatable conclusions and interpretations are accompanied by keen and erudite historical insight. The centerpiece of Lash’s post is an implicit debate between John Marshall and St. George Tucker, the William and Mary law professor, judge, and author of the first major treatise on American constitutional law. For Lash, Marshall channels the nationalist view of broadly construed national powers, whereas Tucker advocates “Tucker’s rule,” requiring that the Constitution “be construed strictly, in all cases where the antecedent rights of a state may be drawn in question.”

In McCulloch, of course, Marshall prefaces his analysis of implied powers with a brief rejection of “compact theory,” the view that the Constitution was, like the Articles of Confederation, essentially a treaty among sovereign states. Marshall instead embraces a “nationalist” vision of the Constitution’s essence in which the people of the United States, rather than the states, ratified the Constitution,  meeting in state conventions solely for convenience. As Marshall asked rhetorically, “Where else should they have assembled?”

Every Con Law professor who teaches McCulloch explains this conflict between nationalist and compact theory, so that much is well known. But Lash adds a new layer. Marshall claims that he only mentions compact theory because Maryland’s counsel “deemed it of some importance.” Lash argues that Marshall thereby “feigned ignorance” both of the true expositor of compact theory (Tucker), and of its true importance to the case. “Tucker’s rule” would presumably have required a robust application of the Tenth Amendment by construing congressional powers narrowly in all cases where the states’ reserved powers “may be drawn in question”—that is to say, all cases of implied powers. “Tucker’s rule” was not therefore “of some importance,” to the McCulloch decision, but of central importance: Tucker’s rule is the antithesis of “McCulloch’s rule” that implied powers should be broadly construed to promote the effective operation of the national government.

Lash convincingly argues that Marshall felt compelled to address and reject Tucker’s rule in McCulloch and that Marshall used “Maryland’s counsel” as a stand-in for Tucker, who was an influential constitutional theorist. Moreover, as Lash points out, Madison came around to views similar to Tucker’s by the time of the Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions of 1798. When Marshall penned the McCulloch opinion in 1819, Lash astutely observes, “It would have been politically scandalous to directly criticize the work of James Madison and his influential 1800 Report on the Virginia Resolutions.” Lash provides no direct evidence of Marshall’s motivation to rebut Tucker beyond the fact that Marshall and Tucker were “fellow Virginian[s].” But Lash’s inference has to be right. Marshall had studied law at William & Mary with Tucker’s predecessor, the renowned George Wythe, and it would be a simple matter to show personal and professional connections between Marshall and Tucker in the small circle of Virginia political and legal elites. As I show in my book, Marshall was deeply concerned, if not obsessive, about answering the views of his Virginia opponents—hence his pseudonymous editorials defending McCulloch in the spring of 1819.

Lash thus enriches our understanding of McCulloch and its context in intellectual history. Lash shows that the Jeffersonian “strict necessity” test for implied powers had more substantial backing than that of Maryland’s counsel Luther Martin, the cantankerous old anti-federalist. (The “strict necessity” test held that implied powers were limited to those without which the enumerated power would be “nugatory.”) Lash’s post can also shed new light on Gibbons v. Ogden, where Marshall again seemed to tangle with an unnamed Tucker. There, Marshall oddly changed his tune about the Constitution’s source, describing it, not as the product of the people themselves, but of the states—“these allied sovereigns [who] converted their league into a government.” While more compatible with Tucker, this version of an origin story did not entail that the powers of Congress “ought to be construed strictly.” Rather, Marshall argued, there was not “one sentence in the constitution which gives countenance to this rule.” Gibbons v. Ogden, 22 U.S. 1, 187 (1824). Thanks to Lash, we can infer that “this rule” rejected by Marshall is Tucker’s rule.

Lash is less convincing when he takes off his historian hat and puts on his originalist hat. Lash chides me for being “never completely clear” on what I think is “the correct reading of the Constitution.” But I take it as praise, rather than criticism, that I did not reduce the ongoing 230-year conflict over federalism to a single “correct reading of the Constitution.” I certainly believe that there is a “better” reading.  That the Constitution empowers the national government to address all national problems is both historically justifiable and normatively superior to its alternative. That alternative, “enumerationism,” is the Jefferson-Jackson-Taney-Carter Coal-Morrison-NFIB view that we must on occasion let national problems go unaddressed in order to demonstrate to ourselves that we are more committed to the ideology of limited enumerated national powers than we are to the preamble’s purposes of promoting justice and the general welfare of the nation.

Lash insists that Tucker’s rule supplies the “correct” (originalist) reading of the Constitution, requiring that federal powers be narrowly construed whenever they touch on reserved state powers. By rejecting Tucker’s rule and compact theory, Lash argues, Marshall tries to “reshape the story of our constitutional origins” by turning it into a mythical, nationalist one. But at this point, Lash offers a competing myth of his own. He relies heavily on James Madison’s mythical reputation as “father of the Constitution” to claim that Madison’s belated, politically motivated adoption of compact theory in the late 1790s is the true “original meaning” of the Constitution. In doing so, Lash ignores Madison’s earlier views in the Framing and ratification periods, that the national government’s powers were not ceded by the states, but were instead derived directly from the people, who redistributed powers from the states to create a national government with supremacy over the states. (Recall Madison’s cherished proposal at the Convention for a national legislative veto over all state laws.) Lash’s constitutional origin story also asks us to ignore the views of George Washington, James Wilson, Gouverneur Morris, and indeed the dominant majority of the 1787 Convention; the ratification debates over federal power, the Federalist party, Daniel Webster, Henry Clay and the national Republicans -- in short, one entire side of the debate over national powers that began with the founding and has been, in Marshall’s words, “perpetually arising.” To read Tucker’s rule as the sole “original” and therefore “correct” interpretation of the Constitution’s grant of powers to the national government is to read half of constitutional history out of history.

Lash argues that my “almost single-minded focus on implied power” somehow feeds a particular “myth of McCulloch”—presumably the New Dealers’ sometime insistence that broad federal power was the correct original meaning of the Constitution. Of course, Tucker’s rule is also primarily, if not single-mindedly, focused on the theory of implied powers, which is indeed the centerpiece of McCulloch. But, importantly, McCulloch didn’t invent the theory of implied powers, which was the subject of heated debate during ratification and was relied on heavily in the First Congress and in the debates over the First Bank of the United States. Marshall was not “reshaping” this aspect of the Constitution’s origins, as Lash asserts, but merely recapitulating it.

Historian Lash knows this, and it’s hard, even for Originalist Lash, to keep a good historian down. Tucker’s rule, Lash admits, became “the dominant theory of the Constitution” only at “the election of 1800”—not at the founding. And Lash concedes that “One could, of course, argue that Madison and Tucker were spinning myths when they described the Constitution as a dual-federalist compact.” Yes, one could. They were. And originalists are spinning myths when they claim that there is a simple “origin story” of the Constitution that can compel a single “correct” reading of the Constitution’s most contested elements.


David S. Schwartz is Foley & Lardner-Bascom Professor of Law at the University of Wisconsin Law School. You can reach him by e-mail at dsschwartz at wisc.edu 



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