I talked with Armstrong & Getty this morning about how the EPA and other regulatory agencies rule our lives without any meaningful democratic oversight. We also talked about PLF's Obamacare lawsuit and my upcoming events in Sacramento. You can listen to the podcast here.
I'll be speaking to the Sacramento Federalist Society on April 22 at noon about my new book, The Conscience of The Constitution. The event'll be held at the California Chamber of Commerce, 1215 K Street, 14th Floor (the "California Room"). You don't have to be a member to come--it just costs $5 more if you're not a member. But most importantly, it's catered by Griselda’s Tex Mex Buffet, which is fantastic.
Then on April 29, at 6pm, I'll be speaking to the Bastiat Society at Piatti Italian Restaurant and Bar, at 571 Pavilions Lane. For more info contact Erik Andresen (916) 928-6506.
Justice Breyer, in his dissent in McCutcheon this morning:
The Framers...both...requir[ed] frequent elections to federal office, and...enact[ed] a First Amendment that would facilitate a "chain of communication between the people, and those, to whom they have committed the exercise of the powers of government." J. Wilson, Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States of America 30–31 (1792). This "chain" would establish the necessary "communion of interests and sympathy of sentiments" between the people and their representatives, so that public opinion could be channeled into effective governmental action. The Federalist No. 57, p. 386 (J. Cooke ed. 1961) (J. Madison).... Accordingly, the First Amendment advances not only the individual's right to engage in political speech, but also the public’s interest in preserving a democratic order in which collective speech matters.
Actually, the framers devised the constitutional structure to prevent public opinion from being channeled into effective government action. One cannot honestly read The Federalist without understanding that the system was designed in order to ensure that public opinion would only be translated into government action when it had been sufficiently challenged, weighed, and considered for its correspondence to principles of justice. "Collective speech" was a part, but only a part, of this process. Had every Athenian been a Socrates, every assembly would still have been a mob, the Federalist tells us. If the First Amendment had been designed to help discover the Rousseauian General Will (as Breyer implies in another paragraph), it would not have taken the form "Congress shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or of the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and petition the government for a redress of grievances." For one thing, the petition right would then be redundant to the speech right. For another, this provision protects "the" right of speech--not some newfangled "collective speech" notion established by the Constitution for the purpose of furthering democratic interests. Most importantly, the "chain of communication" was established to bind down the political process--to restrain it, not to animate it--to protect individuals, not the collective. One simply cannot read the Federalist, or any other writing of the framing period, and not understand this.
In The Conscience of The Constitution, I argue that Justice Breyer is at the forefront of the Progressive effort to re-design protections for the individual's right to free speech into a privilege government gives us when such a privilege suits the collective. Here we see it right from the horse's mouth.
President Obama’s press conference about the Affordable Care Act was one of the most remarkable statements I’ve ever seen a President make. Virtually every sentence of it was the opposite of the truth—and it was full of not just ordinary lies, but a particular brand of hoary old sunfaded tried-and-failed lies. They’re the kind of lie that political leaders utter when everything behind them is crumbling to the ground and everybody else knows it. They’re an Emperor’s New Clothes kind of lies. They’re a Bagdad Bob kind of lies. They’re a Five Year Plan kind of lies. They’re an I Am Not A Crook kind of lies. They’re the kind of lies that failures say when they feel the failure so deep in their bones that they can’t come up with really clever lies. Let’s take a closer look.
The Washington Times has published my op-ed about the Hobby Lobby case, in which I filed a friend o the court brief for the Pacific Legal Foundation and the Reason Foundation. You can read my brief here, and you can read the article here. Excerpt:
The concept of corporate personhood is a perfectly sensible idea, and crucial to our constitutional freedom.
There is no more mystery to the notion that corporations are considered “persons” than there is when we speak of a sports team as a single unit. We say the Seahawks won the Superbowl, but there’s no such thing, really, as the Seahawks — it’s just shorthand for a group of people who compete together. The same is true of other corporations: They are groups of people who act together as a unit — a “body” of people. “Body” is the right term, since the word “corporate” comes from the Latin word for body — and the law has regarded corporations as “persons” since the days of ancient Rome.
Corporations exercise many constitutional rights. Government cannot take corporate property without paying just compensation, or search corporate offices without a warrant. In all these cases, the law speaks of the “rights of the corporation” as shorthand for the rights of the people who make up the corporation. In the same way, corporations can exercise religious freedom rights. After all, many churches are organized as corporations. Perhaps the oldest corporations known to our legal system are churches....
Moreover, shareholders also often exercise their voting rights for religious purposes. The Interfaith Center on Corporate Responsibility, which encourages shareholders to influence corporate activities in light of their faith, reports that more than $2 trillion in corporate assets are dedicated to “socially responsible investing.” These investors view their participation in for-profit enterprises as expressing their religious beliefs.
I listened in today to a Federalist Society Teleforum featuring Michael Rappaport and his coauthor John McGinnis discussing their theory of Originalism, set forth in their new book, Originalism And The Good Constitution (which I have not read). Unfortunately, it ran long, and I didn’t get a chance to ask my question. But I’m really curious to know their answer and I thought I’d ask it here, since readers might enjoy it as well.
Rappaport and McGinnis’s argument for Originalism seeks to show that the proper way to read the Constitution is to seek to understand its original meaning—its meaning at the time it was written—and that we are bound to that understanding as a matter of law. The alternative, of course, is Living Constitutionalism or other varieties of interpretation whereby judges interpret the Constitution in light of contemporary needs or values, which Rappaport and McGinnis find subjective and dangerous and so forth.
What, then, do we do about existing precedent that diverges from the original meaning? For example, existing Eleventh Amendment precedent, which simply bears no relation to what the Amendment actually says or meant when enacted. A die hard Originalist might say, Jettison this precedent. But Rappaport and McGinnis don’t. They argue that where precedent diverges from the original meaning, we should continue to follow such precedent if overruling it would impose “enormous costs,” and where the existing precedent is “entrenched,” meaning that a strong consensus supports that precedent today.
My question is this: this escape hatch from the apparent requirements of Originalism is not based on anything intrinsic to the Originalist commitment. It’s ordinary cost-benefit analysis, and notably contemporary in its focus. What connection is there between the Originalist notion of fidelity to the original language, and this apparent permission to escape from that commitment? Is it your view that the framers believed this was the proper approach, and that justifies such a cost-benefit analysis? Without some such connection, it seems arbitrary—it seems as though the argument is “follow original meaning…except when you don’t.”
Rappaport and McGinnis appear to have answered this question in an article in the Northwestern Law Review Colloquy, in an article entitled “A Pragmatic Defense of Originalism.” There, they argue in favor of Originalism, not from the premise that we’re obligated to follow the original meaning, but because doing so produces the best results, overall. “Provisions created through the strict procedures of constitutional lawmaking are likely to have good consequences,” they argue. “Sustaining these good consequences, however, depends on adhering to the Constitution’s meaning when it was ratified. Justified in this manner, Originalism allows judges to achieve good consequences through formal legal interpretation without having to make policy case by case.”
This appears to say that Rappaport and McGinnis aren’t really arguing for Originalism, but for what they consider to be pragmatism—Originalism is only a useful tool for reaching the best results. They are therefore not really categorically distinct from their Living Constitution opponents, but instead stand in relation to those opponents as the Rule Utilitarian stands in relation to the Act Utilitarian. The Living Constitutionalist says to reach a decision based on the best outcome—like the Act Utilitarian—while Rappaport and McGinnis say to follow an interpretive methodology that will tend to reach the best outcomes—like the Rule Utilitarian. They aren’t really normative originalists at all. My question: is that correct? Or have I missed something?
Three follow-up questions: what about “precedents” other than court decisions? That is, what about precedents in political practice or mere habit? Do only Supreme Court precedents count? Rappaport and McGinnis don’t say so, and I see no reason why it should be so. Then what about social practices from time immemorial which (a) would impose enormous costs to change and (b) around which a strong consensus appears to have grown? For example, blue laws, or school segregation?
Second, what about desuetude? The law against adultery in Measure for Measure, for example? Or the Logan Act? Or the Privileges or Immunities Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment? In these cases the law or constitutional provision—which presumably originally satisfied Rappaport and McGinnis’ procedural criteria and are therefore more likely to be good laws—have nevertheless simply been ignored, flouted, or left silent for long periods of time. Does desuetude count as a “precedent”? If so, how do we know that that produces better outcomes?
Third, if my Rule Utilitarian analogy is correct, how do you respond to the typical objections to Rule Utilitarianism? Which are, that what constitutes the “rule” in question is an undefined category which can be stretched or cut arbitrarily—and that in the end, Rule Utilitarianism really ignores the important questions about what we’re obligated to do. To clarify: Rappaport and McGinnis tell the judge to follow the original meaning (except where path depenendence and entrenchment counsel otherwise) because that approach is likely to lead to the best outcome. So if I’m deciding Kelo v. New London, and I rule in favor of Susette Kelo, am I following the original meaning of the “public use” clause, and thus leading to the best outcome overall? Or am I making a value-based, contemporary decision that prevents rent-seeking and arbitrary deprivations of property, and that’s the best outcome? Or am I overthrowing entrenched existing precedent (which allows virtually any seizure of property sanctioned by the legislature), and this is a good outcome? Or is it a bad outcome? Or is overthrowing entrenched precedent a good outcome even if I am wrong on the merits, because it sparks a needed national debate on a subject the public has too long ignored? (Something some judges appear willing to do.) It seems that my decision could be characterized as following a large number of different kinds of interpretive “rules.” How then do I analyize the social consequences? And if I could somehow prove that Living Constitutionalism—or, heck, deciding cases by throwing dice—really resulted in a happier and more prosperous society than does Originalism, would that really persuade you to abandon Originalism? Or do you not think that there is some deeper reason why following the original meaning is an obligation to us?
I emphasize that these are not “gotcha” questions.
C and I had the good fortune of seeing these three play together yesterday at the Arizona Aloha Festival. They're great, especially Montero. This video was taken on a different day, and the audio isn't great quality, but it gives you a good taste. Check out especially the song beginning at about 9:00.
Jonathan Turley has an excellent editorial in the L.A. Times about the Obama Administration’s repeated re-writes of Obamacare by executive fiat. As Turley observes, this is part of the Administration’s pattern of Legislation By Press Release—and even if you are a Democrat or otherwise support Pres. Obama’s policy goals, you should be concerned about the precedent that these rewrites of the law are setting, which might be exploited by the next person to occupy the Oval Office. “In our system, it is often more important how we do something than what we do. Priorities and policies and presidents change. Democrats will rue the day of their acquiescence to this shift of power when a future president negates an environmental law, or an anti-discrimination law, or tax laws.”
But there’s an important additional point Turley doesn’t make. As we’ve noted on this blog, you must keep in mind that the President is not actually changing the law when he issues these dictates; he’s simply saying his deputies will decline to enforce the law for a certain period of time. And the problem with that is, it allows those in charge to demand certain concessions in exchange for these executive orders. “If you give me X,” the President can say, “I will order my deputies not to enforce the law against you.” If the President can grant waivers, he can demand things in exchange for those waivers—as, in fact, President Obama did when granting “waivers” of the No Child Left Behind Act.
Cato Unbound has an excellent essay by Mark S. Weiner arguing that whatever its shortcomings, the state as a political entity is better than its likely alternative: clan rule. I remember having similar thoughts when Christina and I got married. As atheists, we occasionally face various forms of discrimination (fortunately only rarely, and typically minor) but we were still able to get married because we could obtain a civil marriage through the state. Lucky us. In centuries past, that alternative might not have been open to us. In this way, the state provided us with a service that in other times and places has not been available: secular marriage.
Obviously, if it were permitted, secular marriage could be provided by private institutions in today's America. That's not my point here. My point is that this experience brought to mind how the state often provides us with real benefits by offering institutions that are "atomistic" instead of being based on "the whole person." This, as Weiner states, is exactly why those who romanticize hierarchy and tradition are often found opposing the existence of the state, or arguing for its minimalization. Good examples include Russell Kirk, Robert Nisbet, Richard Weaver, Richard Reinsch, and other agrarian, communitarian, anti-individualist conservatives. And this is why I think that it is not enough to simply be "anti-state."
For a long time, I’ve agreed with Justice Breyer* that cameras shouldn’t be put in the U.S. Supreme Court. Cameras change things in a qualitative way, in our fame-obsessed culture, and in addition to altering the dynamic of the legal process, I think it would increase the security risk. It would encourage grandstanding, discourage honest questions and answers, and nudge the Supreme Court in the direction that Congress and the Executive Branch have already gone—pushing all substantive proceedings into the background and fostering the development of a stylistic façade. Many find these arguments weak, and they’ve got pretty strong arguments: much of what the Court already does is stylistic façade, they say, and the Court has always done its really substantive proceedings in secret anyway. Still, on this subject, I’ve always tended to traditionalism.
By that I mean, the transcript and recording purport to be accurate descriptions of what was uttered in the courtroom, but prior to being issued, at least one of those records was altered on the orders of Court personnel to delete material that the personnel decided to withhold, and then released without any acknowledgement of alteration. Only later did the Court admit that this had occurred—although the records still lack any acknowledgement of their alteration.
You may think this is a minor matter, and of course the episode itself is rather trivial. The “protestor” is pretty obviously wrong on the substance (Citizens United was clearly correctly decided) and his form of protest was childish, unproductive, and offensive.
Nevertheless, it occurred. It occurred during a hearing and was recorded by the official recorders. The Court’s rewriting of an official government record of proceedings, without acknowledgment of that alteration, is without justification or authority, and the underlying principle is absolutely critical.
[Update: To be clear, the Court's spokesman said the recording had been "redacted." It was not. A redacted document makes clear to the reader that certain parts are withheld. Here, the record was falsified, meaning, altered in a way so as to disguise the fact that material was removed. Redacted would be bad enough. Here the record was secretly altered.].
This is my personal blog. The opinions expressed here are my own, and in no way represent those of the staff, management, or clients of the Pacific Legal Foundation, the Cato Institute, or the McGeorge School of Law.