Balkinization  

Monday, February 25, 2019

Balkanization on Balkinization: A Skeptical View of Information Fiduciaries

David Pozen


As readers of this blog know, Jack Balkin has been developing a theory of “information fiduciaries” for the past five years or so. The theory is motivated by the observation that ordinary people are enormously vulnerable to and dependent on the leading online platforms—Facebook, Google, Twitter, Uber, and the like. To mitigate this vulnerability and ensure these companies do not betray the trust people place in them, Balkin urges that we draw on principles of fiduciary obligation. Just as the law imposes special duties of care, confidentiality, and loyalty on doctors, lawyers, accountants, and estate managers vis-Ă -vis their patients and clients, so too should it impose such duties on Facebook, Google, Twitter, and Uber vis-Ă -vis their end users.

Balkin’s theory has been enormously influential. Scholars, advocates, and journalists have hailed it as a solution that can “make Facebook and Google behave” without crushing the tech industry. Mark Zuckerberg has sounded supportive notes. Lawmakers from both parties have expressed increasing interest; the Data Care Act would inscribe Balkin’s scholarship in the U.S. Code. The conventional wisdom, as Frank Pasquale expressed it in a recent essay, is that the information-fiduciary proposal is not just a much-needed breakthrough but “hard to challenge.”

This Balkinization contributor dissents. Uneasy about the fiduciary turn that Balkin has inspired, Lina Khan and I have written an essay arguing that the information-fiduciary proposal is flawed—likely beyond repair—on conceptual, legal, and normative grounds. A first draft of our essay is available here.* As Khan and I summarize our argument in the abstract:

This Essay seeks to disrupt the emerging consensus by identifying a number of lurking tensions and ambiguities in the theory of information fiduciaries, as well as a number of reasons to doubt the theory’s capacity to resolve them satisfactorily. Although we agree with Balkin that the harms stemming from dominant online platforms call for legal intervention, we question whether the concept of information fiduciaries is an adequate or apt response to the problems of information insecurity that he stresses, much less to more fundamental problems associated with outsized market share and business models built on pervasive surveillance. We also call attention to the potential costs of adopting an information-fiduciary framework—a framework that, we fear, invites an enervating complacency toward online platforms’ structural power and a premature abandonment of more robust visions of public regulation.

Balkin kindly invited me to write on this blog a while back, and he has been nothing but gracious to me as an editor (of sorts) and colleague. He is also a famously generous mentor to scores of younger scholars. It is a mark of my esteem for Balkin that I feel completely confident he will not be upset by this pushback, and on the contrary will relish the critical engagement with his ideas.


* For readers who would prefer an extremely condensed graphic-novel-style rendering of our paper to the densely footnoted version, Cornell Tech’s Strategic Designer in Residence Gary Zamchick created this image following a talk I gave there recently. For the record, I did not wear a purple top hat at the talk itself; otherwise, this is pretty much how it went down.



Illustration by Gary Zamchick

Three Things About the "Peace Cross" Case that Everyone Should--But Not Quite Everyone Does--Agree Upon

Marty Lederman

On Wednesday, the Supreme Court will hear argument in American Legion v. American Humanist Association, Nos. 17-1717 & 18-18, the case involving the constitutionality of the Bladensburg “Peace Cross.”  (See Adam Liptak's story in the Times today.)

If you’re in the D.C. area and you haven’t seen it, do yourself a favor:  take a visit.  It’s only five miles from the Court—just a twelve-minute drive if it’s not rush hour.  And you should go in the evening.  Approaching from the south on Bladensburg Road (or probably from any other direction), the illuminated concrete Latin cross, forty-feet tall, dominates the landscape like a beacon.  It appears unexpectedly, seemingly out of nowhere and lacking any evident context, and as you approach the oddity of it will only deepen, as you come to see that it stands alone on a grassy, crescent-shaped traffic island at the intersection of two very busy thoroughfares, U.S. Route 1 (Baltimore Avenue) and Maryland Route 450 (Bladensburg Road), surrounded by fast-moving vehicles.  There’s no parking nearby for those who’d be interested in visiting the Cross, nor even a crosswalk to facilitate a closer look.

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Sunday, February 24, 2019

AOC and Constitutional Workarounds: A Frivolous (?) Analysis

Mark Tushnet

On Saturday the Washington Post published its update on the race for the Democratic nomination. The top three are Harris, Sanders, and Warren. Assume (as I think likely) that AOC might well displace one or more of those were she to be a candidate. But, "of course," she can't be a candidate because she won't have "attained to the Age of thirty five Years" by January 2021.

Why the scare quotes? Maybe there's a workaround she could use. Suppose she found a loyal but pretty schlumpy supporter, Joe or Jane Smith, who's thirty-six years old and living in an apartment in Brooklyn while working as a barista at (why not?) Starbucks. AOC and Smith announce that Smith is running for President on a platform with a single but broad plank: If elected Smith will appoint AOC White House Chief of Staff and do whatever she says on everything other than the purely formal things a president has to do (physically signing bills and pardons, receiving ambassadors, and the like). Suppose Smith wins the election and follows through on the platform's pledge. Is there anything constitutionally impermissible here?

Would following through on the pledge violate Smith's oath of office? Would delegating everything other than the purely formal roles of the president amount to a failure to "faithfully execute the Office of the President," for example? (I think it would take a fairly elaborate argument to explain why this delegation might be a violation of the oath while others, well-settled in practice, aren't.)

Isn't this violating "the spirit" if not the letter of the age requirement? Once we're in "spirit" or policy-land, though, the counterargument is straight-forward: The age requirement is an admittedly imperfect proxy for substantive qualifications like experience, etc. With the letter of the law satisfied we can argue about AOC's substantive qualifications.

Obviously practical questions might arise. The most interesting of those I've been able to think of are these: Maybe Smith would find the lure of power so intoxicating that s/he would break the pledge and actually try to do some of the president-ing. Or maybe AOC's supporters would decide not to vote for Smith/AOC because of that possibility. (That's why AOC should -- in this imaginary world -- pick a complete nonentity as her Smith. And, note that the risk-averse AOC supporters would have to think that she made a mistake in picking this particular Smith.) Or maybe a number worth worrying about of AOC's supporters wouldn't get the message that voting for Smith was really voting for AOC.

There are less interesting practical issues. Smith doesn't actually campaign -- just stays in the apartment and goes to work every day; AOC is the one out campaigning. Does Smith or AOC get Secret Service protection? (I'd have to read the relevant statutes and regulations, but I'd bet that they are susceptible of a reading that would allow the Secret Service to protect either or both [Smith on the theory that assassinating Smith is the kind of threat to elections that Secret Service protection is designed to guard against].) The "State of the Union" clause doesn't require an in-person delivery of the information, and even if practice has developed into a convention that an in-person presentation is required, maybe the "Smith" State of the Union address would be like the Queen's Speech opening parliament -- a recitation by Smith of words written by AOC.

What about candidate debates? Well, either AOC is invited to participate or Smith is. If the latter, to every question Smith responds, "Beats me. You should ask AOC because she's the one who's going to be doing the president-ing." (For a brilliant execution of a similar strategy, see this candidate debate.) [If AOC actually polls well, I would expect the organizers of the candidate debates to ignore the fact that Smith doesn't poll well in her/his own name. If they didn't I expect they'd face a lot of criticism for rigging the system.]

The Constitution's age requirements are routinely cited as provisions that can't be evaded by creative interpretation. Can they be worked around?

Saturday, February 23, 2019

Justice Thomas's Attack on New York Times v. Sullivan: Old Originalism in New Originalist Garb

Marty Lederman



Earlier today, Mark Tushnet posted about Justice Thomas’s recent eye-opening concurrence in the Court’s denial of cert. in McKee v. Cosby.  In that solo opinion, Thomas argued that the Court should abandon New York Times v. Sullivan and its progeny and revert to its earlier understanding that the First Amendment does not limit state libel law . . . at all. 

Justice Thomas's proposal is, of course, alarming in its own right, as Steve Vladeck explains.  And his insouciance about its implications are startlingly ahistorical, to say the least.  The first 175 years of practice after the First Amendment's ratification, Thomas assures us, show that "[t]he States are perfectly capable of striking an acceptable balance between encouraging robust public discourse and providing a meaningful remedy for reputational harm."  That passage echoes Robert Nagel's acerbic attack on Sullivan a generation earlier:  "For most of our history, reasonably vigorous public debate somehow coexisted with traditional defamation rules, but in 1964 it was discovered that the first amendment required significant alterations in these rules in order to foster vigorous public debate."  As Doug Laycock explained then, however, what Nagel's (and thus Thomas's) pollyannaish account of a benign history of defamation law conveniently overlooked was that it was only in 1960 that Alabama officials discovered that traditional defamation rules could be used to destroy the civil rights movement.  

My focus in this post is different, however--namely, to offer some observations about what Thomas's separate concurrence illustrates about modern trends in "originalist" theory and practice (and the gulf between them).
   
In his opinion, Justice Thomas repeatedly upbraids the post-1964 Court for constructing a doctrine without regard to the “original meaning” of the First Amendment.  Here’s a flavor of his incessant theme:  "We should not continue to reflexively apply [the Court's] policy-driven approach to the Constitution.  Instead, we should carefully examine the original meaning of the First and Fourteenth Amendments.”  "[B]eginning with New York Times, the Court “federalized major aspects of libel law . . . .  These decisions made little effort to ground their holdings in the original meaning of the Constitution."  "None of [the] decisions [in the NYT v. Sullivan line] made a sustained effort to ground their holdings in the Constitution’s original meaning."

Justice Thomas's mantra of fidelity to "original meaning" appears to be an effort to portray himself as a practitioner of the “New Originalism,” a school of thought that (in theory) has abandoned the old-fashioned, discredited “old originalism” ideas (associated with Robert Bork, et al.) that the Constitution should be interpreted according to the Framers’ intentions or expectations in favor of the idea that “constitutional interpretation is the discovery of the linguistic meaning of the constitutional text.”

For all his talk about original “meaning,” however, in his McKee opinion Justice Thomas never once discusses what the actual semantic meaning (public or otherwise) of the words of the First and Fourteenth Amendments might have been in 1789 and 1868.  Indeed, he pays virtually no attention to the text at all.  Instead, Thomas’s entire critique consists of describing the common law of libel and defamation when the Amendments (especially the First Amendment) were ratified; apparently applying an (unstated) presumption that the framers didn’t intend or foresee that the Constitution would upend that common law (as Steve Sachs might put it, that they intended to preserve a “constitutional backdrop”—but cf. my discussion at pages 1589-92 here); and then concluding that the "original understanding was that the common law would be unaffected."

It’s not until page 10 of his opinion that Thomas even quotes the text of the Free Speech Clause—and then, instead of trying to discern its “meaning,” he simply invokes with approval Justice White’s dissent in Gertz, which was expressly based upon a view of original “intent,” not textual meaning.  (Thomas even goes so far as to emphasize White's argument that “[s]cant, if any, evidence exists that the First Amendment was intended to abolish the common law of libel, at least to the extent of depriving ordinary citizens of meaningful redress against their defamers.”)

Justice Thomas’s opinion, then, is a classic example of “original intent” and “original expected applications” originalism, of the sort the “New Originalism” had, in theory, rejected and interred forever—draped in the garments of the new “original public meaning” originalism. 


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