Wednesday, August 31, 2022

Eric Segall: : Originalism, Deference, and Judicial Hypocrisy // Dorf on Law

Dorf on Law: Originalism, Deference, and Judicial Hypocrisy
by Eric Segall

Today’s Originalist judges want to use text and history to evaluate a law’s meaning and/or its application to the facts at issue but discard the overarching originalist premise of judicial review-that it be modest, rare, and only exercised upon a showing of clear error.

In other words, Originalist judges aren't really originalist because truly adhering to the original nature of judicial review would not allow them to as freely impose their personal values on the rest of us, and government officials do not like to give up their power. That hypocrisy is currently the coin of the realm of so-called originalist judges and justices.

Thursday, August 25, 2022

District Judge Mark Timothy Pittman voids Texas law limiting 18-20 y.o.'s right to a gun|


In a Twitter thread Jacob Charles makes important points about the consequences of the Supreme Court's New York State Rifle and Pistol Association decision [commonly referred to for convenience by the defendant's name BRUEN].
Rather than engage in the sort of balancing test - weighing whether the ends are achieved by rational means.  Instead, writes Clarence Thomas for the majority,  a judge reviewing state firearms regulations must "assess whether modern firearms regulations are consistent with the Second Amendment's text and historical understanding".  Only if the regulation meets that test will it not run afoul of the Amendment's "unqualified command".
Deference to a state's historical practice and to the elected leaders judgment is nowhere to be found.  Instead defenders of a gun regulation must prove that it is consistent with historical practice.  Public health assessments, such as by the Centers for Disease Control, play no part.  The matter will be decided not by an assessment of whether a state has acted rationally in exercise of its "police power" to protect the public health.  Historical practice, not contemporary nor even a state's longstanding judgments but rather consistency with "the Nation's historical tradition of firearm regulation" will determine the constitutional permissibility of a regulation.

Undeterred by the May 2022  slaughter of nineteen at an Uvalde, Texas elementary school by eighteen year old Salvador Ramos,  U.S. District Judge Mark Pittman in Fort Worth Texas has ruled that the Second Amendment bars Texas's prohibition of 18 - 21 years olds from carrying a pistol in public.

- GWC  8/27/2022

FIREARMS POLICY COALITION, INC. ETAL., v.  STEVEN C. MCCRAW, IN HIS OFFICIAL CAPACITY AS DIRECTOR OF THE TEXAS DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC SAFETY, ET AL., Defendants.
4:21-cv-1245-P
UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT FOR THE NORTHERN DISTRICT OF TEXAS FORT WORTH DIVISION 
The Second Amendment protects the right of “the people” to keep and bear arms for self-defense.1 Yet Texas prohibits law-abiding 18-to-20- year-olds from carrying a handgun for self-defense outside the home. Does the Second Amendment allow this blanket prohibition?
***
Accordingly, the Court ORDERS that: 1. To the extent that Texas’s statutory scheme, TEX. PENAL CODE § 46.02(a) and TEX. GOV’T CODE §§ 411.172(a)(2), (g), (h), (i), prohibits law-abiding 18-to-20-year-olds from carrying handguns for self-defense outside the home based solely on their age, this statutory scheme violates the Second Amendment, as incorporated against the States via the Fourteenth Amendment. 2. Defendants and all their officers, agents, servants, employees, attorneys, and other persons who are in active concert or participation with them are hereby ENJOINED and RESTRAINED from enforcing Texas’s statutory scheme against law-abiding 18-to-20-year-olds based solely on their age. 3. This injunction is hereby STAYED for thirty days, or pending appeal, for the duration of the appellate process. SO ORDERED on this 25th day of August 2022. Mark T. Pittman UNITED STATES DISTRICT JUDGE 

Loan Forgiveness: MEMORANDUM OPINION FOR THE GENERAL COUNSEL DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION

 

Use of the HEROES Act of 2003 to Cancel the Principal Amounts of Student Loans The Higher Education Relief Opportunities for Students Act of 2003, Pub. L. No. 108-76, 117 Stat. 904, grants the Secretary of Education authority to reduce or eliminate the obligation to repay the principal balance of federal student loan debt, including on a class-wide basis in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, provided all other requirements of the statute are satisfied

MEMORANDUM OPINION FOR THE GENERAL COUNSEL DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION The Higher Education Relief Opportunities for Students Act of 2003, Pub. L. No. 108-76, 117 Stat. 904 (2003) (codified at 20 U.S.C. §§ 1098aa–1098ee) (“HEROES Act of 2003,” or “HEROES Act”), vests the Secretary of Education (“Secretary”) with expansive authority to alleviate the hardship that federal student loan recipients may suffer as a result of national emergencies. 
The Act provides that the Secretary may “waive or modify any statutory or regulatory provision applicable to” federal student loan programs if the Secretary “deems” such actions “necessary to ensure that” certain statutory objectives are achieved. 20 U.S.C. § 1098bb(a)(1)–(2). 

One of those objectives is to ensure that “recipients of student financial assistance . . . are not placed in a worse position financially in relation to that financial assistance because of” a national emergency. Id. § 1098bb(a)(2)(A). In 2020, the Secretary invoked this authority in response to the COVID-19 pandemic to suspend the repayment obligation and to waive interest payments on student loans for every borrower in the United States with a loan held by the federal government. See Federal Student Aid Programs, 85 Fed. Reg. 79,856, 79,862 (Dec. 11, 2020). 

Prior Secretaries have exercised the same authority to categorically waive statutory and regulatory obligations for borrowers residing or working in a disaster area in connection with a national emergency and for borrowers who suffered economic hardship as a result of a national emergency. See, e.g., Federal Student Aid Programs, 77 Fed. Reg. 59,311, 59,314 (Sept. 27, 2012); Federal Student Aid Programs, 68 Fed. Reg. 69,312, 69,313–14 (Dec. 12, 2003).

Tuesday, August 23, 2022

Segall: Dobbs Footnote 48, Precedent, and why the Supreme Court is not a Court //Dorf on Law:

Eric Segall has long argued - see his 2012 book Supreme Myths - that the Supreme Court is not a court and its justices are not judges.  That facially preposterous proposition expresses the core insight that if changing personnel changes law, then the court has not been bound by law, but by personal ideological preferences of its members.  The core of the argument - as you will see below - is that if judges are not bound by original meaning or intention then judges cannot claim they are following the law's commands - unless they make their principles clear and demonstrate themselves to be bound by identifiable meaning and logic.

The dominant constitutional jurisprudence - originalism - is hopelessly bankrupt.  It either binds us to unacceptable meanings (women cannot be voters, African slaves are chattel without rights) or we must turn to the "original public meaning" - itself a highly manipulable search which leaves us bound by the understanding of a prior era.  Even the 14th Amendment's promise of equal protection did not stop the Congress which drafted it from establishing separate and unequal public schools in the District of Columbia.

Segall summarizes his long-developed argument below.
Welcome to the fall semester.
- GWC 
Dorf on Law: Dobbs Footnote 48, Precedent, and why the Supreme Court is not a Court

By Eric Segall (Georgia State) [Host of Supreme Myths Podcast]

Readers of this blog likely know that I wrote a book in 2012 arguing that the Supreme Court is not a court and its Justices are not judges. My thesis was and is based on a perfect storm of factors, including the institutional design of the Court and our country, historical practices, and human nature. Taking these factors together, I concluded that the Supreme Court in practice makes all- things-considered decisions, not legal decisions, with the only real constraint being the Justices’  own views on what the American people and the elected branches will tolerate or accept. Here is a quick summary of those factors:

1) Most of the Constitution's litigated clauses are hopelessly imprecise;

2) Our Constitution is virtually impossible to amend and extremely old;

3) The people who serve on this institution hold their offices for life;

4) We have a strong tradition of aggressive judicial review dating back to at least 1857 (Dred Scott);

5) The Court's decisions are effectively unreviewable; and

6) The Justices do not now and never have taken positive law sources, including their own prior decisions, even minimally seriously when deciding cases (as opposed to explaining their own decisions, thus leading to a huge transparency gap).

Now let's examine each factor in turn.

1) The Supreme Court rarely hears constitutional cases involving clear text such as the President must be at least 35 years old or there must be two Senators from every state. The litigated cases involve texts like "freedom of speech," "due process," "equal protection," "cruel and unusual punishment," "free exercise of religion," "unreasonable searches and seizures," and similar aspirations we all agree with in principle but disagree about in practice. I do not find this claim to be reasonably arguable.

2) It takes a super-majority of Congress and the states to amend the Constitution. After the Bill of Rights was added in 1791, our Constitution has been amended 17 times in 232 years (someone check my math, I'm a law professor). That our Constitution is old and extremely difficult to amend are not debatable propositions.

3) Our Justices have life tenure unless they commit a crime.

4) We can reasonably debate what aggressive judicial review means but there is no doubt the Court has invalidated hundreds of important state and federal laws defining who we are as a people and a country.

5) The only way to legally or formally reverse a Supreme Court constitutional decision is to pass a constitutional amendment, which is incredibly unlikely (see factor 2) or for the Court to reverse itself. These points are not reasonably debatable.

6) The Court does not take prior positive law minimally seriously enough for that law to act as a constraint. This factor is obviously the most important and contestable and is discussed below. But first we have to agree that, if tomorrow, the Justices issued a statement that they will in the future make all-things-considered decisions and prior positive law was non-binding on them, we would not consider such an institution a court of law. If you disagree with that statement in the abstract, then you might want to stop reading.

What do I mean by prior positive law? For our purposes it is enough to oversimply a bit and list constitutional text and prior cases. An institution that is bound by neither is simply not a court of law. 

In the Harvard Law Review and this blog, I have detailed the many ways the Supreme Court does not care about text. I will not repeat the legions of cases I discuss in both places. For now it is enough to note that in the text of the Constitution there is no federal equal protection clause, no dormant commerce clause, no text barring Congress from employing state legislatures and executives to enforce and implement federal law, no text barring states from being sued by their own citizens, no right to travel, use contraception, raise one's children as they see fit, send their kids to private school, or refuse unwarranted medical treatment. Yet, the Court has announced all of the above and lots more that is not in the Constitution, leading major scholars to write books like our "Invisible Constitution," and  "America's Unwritten Constitution." .

The more contestable point is how much, if at all, the Court cares about its own prior case law. This factor leads us to the very lengthy footnote 48 in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health, and what Justice Angry Alito called a "partial list" of the times when the Court reversed itself. I strongly suggest you read it. I predict it will leave you breathless. Here are representative samples (please forgive the absence of hyper-links). Most of these reversals are in footnote 48, a few are not:

First the Court held (by summary affirmance) that there was no right to same sex-marriage, now there is such a right.

First the Court held there was a fundamental right to abortion, then it was a protected right, now there's no right to an abortion.

First the Court held formal legal segregation under state law did not violate the Constitution, now it does.

First the Court held that private consensual sexual relations between two people of the same sex was not constitutionally protected, now it is.

First the Court held that most generally available government aid to religious schools violated the Establishment Clause, then the Court held that such aid was constitutional, and now such aid is constitutionally required under the free exercise clause.

First the Court held that the 11th Amendment could be abrogated by Congress under its commerce clause authority, now Congress lacks that power.

First the Court held Congress could require the states to help it implement its federal enumerated powers, then the Court held Congress could not do so, then the Court held Congress could do so, and now Congress again can't do so unless the law applies to both the public and private sectors or, oddly, if the law applies to state judges.

First the Court held that most gender distinctions were constitutional under a rational basis test, now most gender classifications are unconstitutional under something very close to strict scrutiny.

First the Court held that indigents charged with crimes under state law had no right to a government funded attorney, now there is such a right.

First the Court held that paper money was not legal tender for prior debts. A year and two new Justices later, paper money was held to be proper legal tender.

First the Court held that Congress could not regulate child labor under the commerce clause, now it can.

First the Court held the Second Amendment only applied to militia type weapons, now it applies to all arms in common use.

I could go on and on and on and on and on.

An institution that is not bound by text or precedent is not a court of law....

KEEP READING

Prosecuting Trump: A Reply to Josh Marshall - Jack Goldsmith - Lawfare

Prosecuting Trump: A Reply to Josh Marshall - Lawfare

By Jack Goldsmith [Harvard Law School; Assistant Attorney General, Office of Legal Counsel from 2003-2004, and Special Counsel to the Department of Defense from 2002-2003]

Josh Marshall has a thoughtful response to my Aug. 14 piece on the Mar-a-Lago raid. Below I try to engage with his points.

Where We Agree

Marshall says that I am right to insist that “it is dangerous for a President’s administration to pursue criminal charges against a predecessor.” But he adds that “[w]hat’s lacking in [my] discussion is any real grappling with the opposite side of the equation.” The opposite side of the equation is “the line past which a President’s lawlessness becomes so pervasive, persistent and dangerous that the risks of acting are outweighed by those of failing to do so.” 

I agree that there is such a line. Indeed, I said so in the piece he responds to:

There obviously must be a point where information is so sensitive, and Trump’s disregard for law so extreme, to justify legal process against Trump, even in the current milieu. Otherwise the law is entirely hostage to a former president’s (and his supporters’) self-serving veto—something no legal system can tolerate. 

I then explained how I think one should assess whether that point had been reached with the Mar-a-Lago documents episode, without taking a position.

As for my “grappling with the opposite side of the equation,” I have tried to acknowledge very clearly the consequences of giving Trump a pass for convictable crimes:

If Mr. Garland concludes that Mr. Trump has committed convictable crimes, he would face the third and hardest decision: whether the national interest would be served by prosecuting Mr. Trump. This is not a question that lawyerly analysis alone can resolve. It is a judgment call about the nature, and fate, of our democracy.

A failure to indict Mr. Trump in these circumstances would imply that a president—who cannot be indicted while in office—is literally above the law, in defiance of the very notion of constitutional government. It would encourage lawlessness by future presidents, none more so than Mr. Trump should he win the next election. By contrast, the rule of law would be vindicated by a Trump conviction.

I agree with Marshall about the dangers of not prosecuting Trump for convictable crimes. They are extremely high.     

I also agree with Marshall that Trump’s criminal activity after office warrants less prosecutorial caution than those committed in office. I made this point in “After Trump,” where I “argue[d] for extreme caution in a criminal investigation of a prior president for acts done in office” (emphasis added), and added that for non-official acts outside the presidency, the calculus is very different. I also made the point implicitly in this post, which emphasized that “[o]nce Trump leaves office, his criminal exposure for selling secrets broadens.” 

Grappling With the Dangers of Not Prosecuting Trump

 All that said, Marshall is right about my allocation of grappling: I have devoted more words to the dangers of the Biden administration using criminal process against Trump than to the dangers of it not doing so. In part that is because most of the commentary that I have read focuses on the dangers of not pursuing Trump. And in part it is because I still believe many people unduly discount the difficulties and possible costs of prosecuting Trump. I will not re-catalogue all of the difficulties and costs here. The narrow point I want to make is that the difficulties and costs should substantially inform the rule-of-law concerns that Marshall raises. I can make the point in two steps.

 1. Convictable Offenses

The first step goes to whether, as Marshall says, “Trump’s violations of law are pervasive.” To the extent that Marshall is referring to criminal law, I am far from convinced, based on the public evidence to date, that Trump has committed convictable crimes. (Recall that the standard to bring a case against Trump is that his acts constitute a federal offense and “the admissible evidence will probably be sufficient to obtain and sustain a conviction.”)

Marshall says: “Quite apart from potentially conspiring with a foreign power, the Mueller Report contains ample and convincing evidence of obstruction of justice.” I am not sure which of Trump’s many acts Marshall has in mind when he talks about “conspiring with a foreign power.” But absent a clearly venal quid pro quo, it will be practically impossible to nail a president—who has enormous constitutional discretion to direct foreign policy and define U.S. foreign policy interests and conduct diplomacy—for “conspiring with a foreign power” while in office. Which is why that issue does not now seem to be on the table.

And while Trump did seem in office to engage in “obstruction of justice as a way of life,” in John Bolton’s memorable words, that does not mean that there is “ample and convincing evidence” that he has committed convictable obstruction of justice crimes. (I know this seems inane to many people; more on this issue below.) I have explained why I am skeptical that Trump committed convictable obstruction of justice crimes at great length here and here and here, and will not repeat those arguments. Some of the episodes recounted in Volume II of the Mueller report would face fewer Article II problems than others, but all would have been heavy lifts to convict Trump for obstruction of justice.

And then there is what Marshall describes as “the multifaceted and multi-jurisdictional plot to corrupt and then overturn the 2020 election all culminating in the violent assault on the seat of government.” This was all atrocious, unpatriotic, impeachable, and unforgivable. But I am still not convinced, based on current public evidence, that it meets the standard for federal prosecution. 

The numerous criminal statutes that different people say Trump supposedly violated by his Jan. 6 and related actions makes this claim hard to assess, and the breadth of the statutes invoked are some indication that none of them apply straightforwardly to Trump’s actions. The public hasn’t yet seen a smoking gun, and any prosecution here will face intent and Article II problems. I do not rule out that the Justice Department can make out a winnable case here—we do not know what Merrick Garland knows. I just have not yet seen a convincing analysis, based on the public evidence, that grapples with all of the difficulties.  

(To get a flavor of how hard the legal issues will be, independent of the intent and Article II problems, read this opinion by Judge Rudolph Contreras in a criminal case against Kyle Fitzsimons, who allegedly breached the Capitol on Jan. 6 and “engaged in physical violence” that injured police officers. The case involves one of the statutes most frequently invoked by commentators against Trump—corrupt obstruction of an official proceeding, 18 U.S.C. § 1512. Contreras denied Fitzsimons’s motion to dismiss the charges under § 1512. But as the opinion makes clear, there are uncertainties about whether that statute applies even to someone who actually engaged in violence in the Capitol on Jan. 6—all of which will be contested on appeal. The legal issues will be harder in a prosecution under this statute against a president who did not breach the Capitol or engage in violence.) 

Next is what Marshall says “appears to be a concerted and deliberate effort to maintain possession not only of government property but significant state secrets for reasons unknown.” I agree that post-presidency criminal actions face a lower bar, and I have outlined (in the context of the warrant) what I see as the legal issues here. Not enough information has yet surfaced on this one, in my opinion.  

As for the “evidence that Trump [after he left office] personally contacted potential witnesses against him and tried to ensure their silence with a mix of inducements and threats,” if the evidence ends up supporting that description, the Department of Justice should face none of the legal hurdles to prosecution identified above. We will see.

2. The Danger in a Failed Prosecution

The second factor builds on the first. The absence of an obvious convictable crime (based on public evidence thus far) underscores the dangers of a failed prosecution.  

“A trial of a president following years of battle and ending in acquittal will cause the country tremendous pain for no good end and will likely create numerous unfortunate precedents along the way,” I once wrote. And in assessing the possibility of failure, one must consider “how any charges against Mr. Trump would fare in an adversarial criminal proceeding administered by an independent judge, where Mr. Trump’s lawyers will contest the government’s factual and legal contentions, tell his side of events, raise many defenses and appeal every important adverse legal decision to the Supreme Court.”

In calculating costs and benefits, in other words, one cannot assume that a prosecution will succeed. One must discount all of the dangers of not prosecuting (and the benefits of a prosecution) by the likelihood of the prosecution failing.  

Would a failed prosecution be good on balance for the rule of law, broadly conceived—for the idea that no person, including a former president, is above the law; for the incentives it would create for Trump and others going forward; and for the devastating impact it would have on Justice Department legitimacy, beyond the legitimacy hit the department would suffer for going after the president’s political rival? I don’t think so. To be sure, some people believe, as I once put it, that the rule of law “might be enhanced by a full judicial airing of Mr. Trump’s possible crimes in office, even if it ultimately fails.” But I think that is very unlikely. Since I think that the likelihood of a conviction of Trump based on publicly available evidence is low, I do not think the rule of law would be advanced by prosecuting him.

KEEP READING


Moyn and Doerfler: | The Constitution Is Broken and Should Not Be Reclaimed - The New York Times

Opinion | The Constitution Is Broken and Should Not Be Reclaimed - The New York Times
Ryan D. Doerfler and 

When liberals lose in the Supreme Court — as they increasingly have over the past half-century — they usually say that the justices got the Constitution wrong. But struggling over the Constitution has proved a dead end. The real need is not to reclaim the Constitution, as many would have it, but instead to reclaim America from constitutionalism.

The idea of constitutionalism is that there needs to be some higher law that is more difficult to change than the rest of the legal order. Having a constitution is about setting more sacrosanct rules than the ones the legislature can pass day to day. Our Constitution’s guarantee of two senators to each state is an example. And ever since the American founders were forced to add a Bill of Rights to get their handiwork passed, national constitutions have been associated with some set of basic freedoms and values that transient majorities might otherwise trample.

But constitutions — especially the broken one we have now — inevitably orient us to the past and misdirect the present into a dispute over what people agreed on once upon a time, not on what the present and future demand for and from those who live now. This aids the right, which insists on sticking with what it claims to be the original meaning of the past.


Arming for war over the Constitution concedes in advance that the left must translate its politics into something consistent with the past. But liberals have been attempting to reclaim the Constitution for 50 years — with agonizingly little to show for it. It’s time for them to radically alter the basic rules of the game.



In making calls to regain ownership of our founding charter, progressives have disagreed about strategy and tactics more than about this crucial goal. Proposals to increase the number of justices, strip the Supreme Court’s jurisdiction to invalidate federal law or otherwise soften the blow of judicial review frequently come together with the assurance that the problem is not the Constitution; only the Supreme Court’s hijacking of it is. And even when progressives concede that the Constitution is at the root of our situation, typically the call is for some new constitutionalism.

Since the Supreme Court began to drift right in the 1970s, liberals have proposed better ways of reading the Constitution. The conservative Federalist Society engaged in a successful attempt to remake constitutional law by brainstorming ideas, creating networks of potential judges and eventually helping to guide the selection of President Donald Trump’s nominees. It was revealing that liberals responded by founding (in 2001) an organization called the American Constitution Society, which produced the book “Keeping Faith With the Constitution.” And when liberal law professors got together in the mid-2000s to dream of a different America, that yielded the book “The Constitution in 2020.” But since then — with the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the consolidation of right-wing control of constitutional law and the overturning of Roe and other disasters this term — the damage has only worsened.

One reason for these woeful outcomes is that our current Constitution is inadequate, which is why it serves reactionaries so well. Starting with a text that is famously undemocratic, progressives are forced to navigate hard-wired features, like the Electoral College and the Senate, designed as impediments to redistributive change while drawing on much vaguer and more malleable resources like commitments to due process and equal protection — resources that a conservative Supreme Court has used over the years to invalidate things like abortion rights and child labor laws and might use in the coming term to prohibit affirmative action.

Sometimes reclaiming the Constitution is presented as a much-needed step toward empowering the people and their elected representatives. In a new book, the law professors Joseph Fishkin and William Forbath urge progressives to stop treating constitutional law as an “autonomous” domain, “separate from politics.” In contrast with earlier efforts among liberals, which, as Jedediah Purdy put it in a 2018 Times guest essay, put forward a “vivid picture of what judges should do with the power of the courts,” such exercises in progressive constitutionalism call on Congress and other nonjudicial actors to claim some amount of authority to interpret the Constitution for themselves.


It is a breath of fresh air to witness progressives offering bold new proposals to reform courts and shift power to elected officials. But even such proposals raise the question: Why justify our politics by the Constitution or by calls for some renovated constitutional tradition? It has exacted a terrible price in distortion and distraction to transform our national life into a contest over reinterpreting our founding charter consistently with what majorities believe now.


No matter how openly political it may purport to be, reclaiming the Constitution remains a kind of antipolitics. It requires the substitution of claims about the best reading of some centuries-old text or about promises said to be already in our traditions for direct arguments about what fairness or justice demands.

It’s difficult to find a constitutional basis for abortion or labor unions in a document written by largely affluent men more than two centuries ago. It would be far better if liberal legislators could simply make a case for abortion and labor rights on their own merits without having to bother with the Constitution.

By leaving democracy hostage to constraints that are harder to change than the rest of the legal order, constitutionalism of any sort demands extraordinary consensus for meaningful progress. It conditions democracy in which majority rule always must matter most on surviving vetoes from powerful minorities that invoke the constitutional past to obstruct a new future.

After failing to get the Constitution interpreted in an egalitarian way for so long, the way to seek real freedom will be to use procedures consistent with popular rule. It will not be easy, but a new way of fighting within American democracy must start with a more open politics of altering our fundamental law, perhaps in the first place by making the Constitution more amendable than it is now.

In a second stage, though, Americans could learn simply to do politics through ordinary statute rather than staging constant wars over who controls the heavy weaponry of constitutional law from the past. If legislatures just passed rules and protected values majorities believe in, the distinction between “higher law” and everyday politics effectively disappears.

One way to get to this more democratic world is to pack the Union with new states. Doing so would allow Americans to then use the formal amendment process to alter the basic rules of the politics and break the false deadlock that the Constitution imposes through the Electoral College and Senate on the country, in which substantial majorities are foiled on issue after issue.


More aggressively, Congress could simply pass a Congress Act, reorganizing our legislature in ways that are more fairly representative of where people actually live and vote, and perhaps even reducing the Senate to a mere “council of revision” (a term Jamelle Bouie used to describe the Canadian Senate), without the power to obstruct laws.



In so doing, Congress would be pretty openly defying the Constitution to get to a more democratic order — and for that reason would need to insulate the law from judicial review. Fundamental values like racial equality or environmental justice would be protected not by law that stands apart from politics but — as they typically are — by ordinary expressions of popular will. And the basic structure of government, like whether to elect the president by majority vote or to limit judges to fixed terms, would be decided by the present electorate, as opposed to one from some foggy past.

A politics of the American future like this would make clear our ability to engage in the constant reinvention of our society under our own power, without the illusion that the past stands in the way.

Ryan D. Doerfler of Harvard and Samuel Moyn of Yale are law professors.

Monday, August 22, 2022

Congress's Article III Power and the Process of Constitutional Change by Christopher Jon Sprigman :: SSRN



In the popular imagination the courts, particularly the federal courts, and preeminently the Supreme Court of the United States are the interpreters of the national Constitution and the police of the legislatures - state and national.
But in fact every branch is a participant and guardian of the ground rules of the polity. In the 1950s the Supreme Court came to be identified with a progressive vision - limiting the greatest excesses of the anti-communist panic of the time as we confronted our former ally - the USSR which was not only armed with a nuclear bombs but demonstrated its rocketry via the Sputnik satellites and intercontinental missiles.
But more to the point was the high court's determination to confront the failure of the national government to realize the objectives of the post-Civil War Amendments which barred slavery, promised equal protection of the laws, and gave the vote to African American men.  The Court itself had undermined those promises in the 1883 Civil Rights Cases which voided the Civil Rights Act of 1875.  That measure  by which Congress exercised its power under the 14th Amendment to enforce the Amendment's promises was stripped by the Court of the federal government's power to bar private acts of discrimination, limiting the national government's authority to actions by a state.  In Plessy v. Ferguson the Court ratified a state law which demanded separate rail cars even for persons travelling interstate.  Even laws criminalizing integrated education such as that of Kentucky were OK'd by the Supreme Court in the Berea College case of 1908.

The 13th Amendment barring "involuntary servitude" inspired the nascent labor movement.  But the high Court broke new ground in 1895 when in the In re Debs case it authorized a strike-breaking injunction, and the jailing of rail worker union leader Eugene V. Debs.  Not until the 1932 Norris-LaGuardia Act did the Congress act to strip the courts of their strike-breaking inunction powers.

So when the Supreme Court voided the laws compelling or permitting racial segregation of schools  it was treated by the southern states as aggrandizement and usurpation of their traditional powers.  Southern massive resistance only began to crack with the 1964 Civil Rights Act, 42 USC 2000 et seq.  Frustrated and emboldened the Court acted to protect people from abusive police practices and sought t assure effective defense to criminal charges by promising in Gideon v. Wainwright that even impecunious defendants were entitled to a defense attorney.

So Congressional passivity of a century left many with the understanding and expectation that  those aggrieved by denial of rights could look to the courts.  But in fact from 1883 to 1954 the single most protective action to protect the civil frights of Americans had been Congress's stripping the federal courts of jurisdiction over labor disputes.
To correct the residual warmth of progressives toward the Supreme Court NYU's Christopher Sprigman presents an expansive view of how Congress, by jurisdiction stripping, can practically amend the Constitution and perhaps stem the current conservative super-majority's pursuit of its anti-civil rights and anti-administrative state agenda.

- GWC August 22, 2022

Congress's Article III Power and the Process of Constitutional Change

72 Pages Posted: 16 Sep 2020

Christopher Jon Sprigman

New York University School of Law; New York University (NYU) - Engelberg Center on Innovation Law & Policy

Date Written: August 8, 2020

Abstract

Text in Article III of the U.S. Constitution appears to give to Congress authority to make incursions into judicial supremacy, by restricting (or, less neutrally, “stripping”) the jurisdiction of federal courts. Article III gives Congress authority to make “exceptions” to the Supreme Court’s appellate jurisdiction. Article III also gives Congress discretion whether to “ordain and establish” lower federal courts. Congress’s power to create or abolish these courts would seem to include the power to create them but to limit their jurisdiction, and that has how the power has historically been understood.

Is Congress’s power to remove the jurisdiction of federal courts in effect a legislative power to choose the occasions on which federal courts may, and may not, have the final word on the meaning of the Constitution? That is a question on which Supreme Court has never spoken definitively.

In this Article, I argue that Congress’s Article III power can be understood as a means by which Congress may change the Constitution without amending it. I argue, further, that we should welcome it as such. Working through the ordinary legislative process, Congress may remove the jurisdiction of federal courts to hear cases involving most questions of federal law, including cases that raise questions under the federal Constitution. To be clear, I am not arguing that the Constitution unambiguously establishes this congressional power. As on so many important issues, the Constitution is indeterminate: Article III provides a textual foundation for the power, and neither history nor precedent rule it out. In this matter, however, what Congress does is more important than anything the Constitution says. The Constitution’s indeterminacy opens a space for Congress to reclaim authority, in particular cases, over constitutional interpretation. If a determined Congress acts to fill that space, courts will have little power to resist. Correction, if it comes at all, will come from voters.

Understood this way, the implications of Congress’s Article III power are potentially transformative. Congress may prescribe, by ordinary legislation, constitutional rules in areas where the meaning of the Constitution is unsettled. Or it may displace otherwise settled constitutional rules by ordinary legislation. In either case, Congress may remove the jurisdiction of federal courts to hear constitutional challenges to its interventions. And Congress may do the same with respect to state courts.

To be clear, Article III does not permit Congress to escape accountability. Rather, Article III gives to Congress the power to choose whether it must answer, in a particular instance, to judges or to voters. In the push-and-pull between judicially-enforced constitutional rules and the desires of current democratic majorities, the potential for Congress’s exercise of its Article III power helps legitimate both constitutionalism and judicial review.

Keywords: constitutional law, constitutionalism, democracy, judicial review, federal courts

Sprigman, Christopher Jon, Congress's Article III Power and the Process of Constitutional Change (August 8, 2020). New York University Law Review, Vol. 95, No. 6, 2020, Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=3669954

The Senate debate over how to codify Roe v Wade, explained - Vox

The Senate debate over how to codify Roe v Wade, explained - Vox''
Amid threats over the last year that the Supreme Court might abolish the right to an abortion, Democrats and advocacy groups have used an imperfect but popular phrase as a synonym for protecting reproductive freedom: “codify Roe.”

“When we go back to Washington, we will be putting Roe v. Wade codification on the floor of the House to make sure that women everywhere have access to the reproductive health that they need,” House Speaker Nancy Pelosi pledged last September. When a draft of the Dobbs v. Jackson decision leaked in May, President Joe Biden stressed the need for “legislation that codifies Roe, which I will work to pass and sign into law.”

bill introduced earlier this month aims to do exactly that, writing into law the holdings of Supreme Court decisions that guaranteed the right to contraception and to abortion before fetal viability, usually in the 22nd to 24th week of pregnancy.

But translating abortion-related court decisions into legislative language that everyone can agree on has turned out to be more difficult and controversial than lawmakers have publicly acknowledged.The bill, known as the Reproductive Freedom for All Act, is a bipartisan effort, sponsored by Republican Sens. Susan Collins and Lisa Murkowski and Democratic Sens. Tim Kaine and Kyrsten Sinema. It has sparked outrage among the leaders of abortion rights groups: They argue it would not actually codify key Supreme Court decisions and could even be a step backward from what Americans had before Dobbs. The measure does much less to protect abortion rights than the Women’s Health Protection Act, abortion rights groups’ favored bill, which passed the House but has failed twice in the Senate.

Their reaction underscores a key debate over Democrats’ legislative strategy in post-Roe America. Even as Democrats say they want to codify Roe, national reproductive rights groups and their allies in Congress see a political window to move beyond Roe’s weak framework and more meaningfully protect abortion access.

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