George Will’s Natural Rights Judicial Philosophy

George Will has established a reputation for being an idiosyncratic thinker, and in his masterful new tome, The Conservative Sensibility, Will demonstrates this idiosyncrasy in his chapter on judicial philosophy. Will rejects originalism, preferring instead what could be described as libertarian or natural rights activism. Will chides originalists for bowing to legislative majorities – state or federal – unless they have clearly circumvented the constitutional text. Will argues that the judiciary should be active guardians against encroachments of the natural rights of citizens.

Will’s approach is reflected in his discussion of Brown vs. Board of Education. He dismisses the Warren court’s rationale for overturning the separate but equal doctrine established in Plessy vs. Ferguson. The Warren court’s decision was seeped in social psychology, twisting itself to find a justification for its decision.  Brown has been a source of dissension among some conservatives. For instance, Michael McConnell agrees with the outcome but not the rationale, while others think that – lamentably – there really was no originalist justification for the outcome (a point many progressives make in attempting to debunk originalism in toto).

Will casts aside all of these approaches and instead postulates:

The threshold question when evaluating any particular mode of construing the Constitution is whether the mode would dictate declaring public school segregation unconstitutional. No acceptable theory for construing the Constitution can invalidate the Court’s conclusion in Brown; the conclusion invalidates any theory that rejects it. If a theory of constitutional interpretation cannot find in the document’s text, when the text is construed to serve the document’s purpose of framing a government that secures natural rights, grounds for striking down racial segregation in schools, a practice facially inimical to equal enjoyment of the blessings of liberty, then this theory must be discarded.

Will follows up with an important framing of his basic constitutional philosophy: “The phrase the ‘blessings of liberty’ is of course from the Constitution’s Preamble. But the Preamble is not a mere decorative filigree on the Constitution. It is a statement of the objectives of all that follow.”

To Will, the Constitution “is John Locke’s political philosophy translated into institutional architecture.” He thus views the Constitution as the written document making concrete the principles established in the Declaration of Independence. He echoes Abraham Lincoln in calling the Declaration the “apple of gold,” surrounded by the “frame of silver” which is the Constitution.

Will sides with Randy Barnett in professing what Ilan Wurman (A Debt Against the Living: An Introduction to Originalism) describes as “libertarian originialism.” The case which distinguishes Barnett and Will from most originalists is Lochner vs. New York, the 1905 Supreme Court case involving a New York state law limiting worker hours. In a decision Will applauds, the Court overturned New York’s law, invoking the idea of the “liberty of contract.” This is a right that is not enumerated specifically in the Constitution, but which is implied via the Ninth Amendment.

In supporting the Lochner court’s decision, Will accepts a concept anathema to many conservative originalists: substantive due process. Will writes, “The Due Process Clause, properly construed, prohibits arbitrary government actions, particularly actions that unjustifiably restrict individuals’ liberties. The Due Process Clause is not purely about process.”

This reading of the due process clause would animate many Supreme Court decisions over the next three decades. These cases generally centered on economic questions. It was not until FDR appointed an entirely new court over his tenure in office that substantive due process would die a sudden death, only to be revived by the Warren court, only this time generally to protect socially libertarian ideas.

Will also does not completely dismiss the idea of a constitution as a living, breathing document. Will himself uses the term “living originalism,” a term coined by Jack Balkin. He quotes Balkin’s description: “In every generation, We the People of the United States make the Constitution our own by culling upon its text and its principle and arguing about what they mean in our own time.” The prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment is used as an example. What was considered “cruel and unusual” in 1789 America is not the same as what would be considered cruel and unusual in 2019. Each generation can read the constitutional intent in light of new revelations and modes of thinking. This differs from progressive judicial activism because the constitution would still be interpreted to support a Madisonian respect for natural rights, just with a more modern flavor.

Will lambasts the conservative originalist approach because it is far too deferential to majorities. He specifically calls out Antonin Scalia’s dissent in Lawrence v. Texas, where the majority struck down Texas’s anti-sodomy laws. Will accuses Scalia of being a majoritarian, and decries the originalist impulse to defer to legislative majorities.

There are thus two principles which underlay Will’s judicial philosophy: a defense of natural rights, and a suspicion of majoritarianism. While there is some division within conservative circles, both of these ideas are within the mainstream of traditional conservative thought, particularly the anti-majoritarian impulse. Will is on solid ground in citing Madison and the Framers and their distrust of majorities and the damage that unrestrained majorities could wreck on our republic. Neither of the principal authors of the Federalist Papers – Hamilton or Madison – were exactly Jeffersonian democrats. (Madison may have forged a political partnership with Jefferson, but he never shared similar philosophical ground with Jefferson when it came to ideas such as democracy and the permanency of the constitution.)

Will might encounter more resistance to his passionate advocacy of natural rights. Again, though, he is on generally solid ground in interpreting the Framers as being natural rights advocates. Thomas West, in The Political Theory of the American Founding, does a convincing job of demonstrating the Framers’ commitment to natural rights, sorting through varied and various writings to demonstrate this propensity.

Yet there are three fundamental issues with this judicial philosophy. Neither one is perhaps lethal to Will’s argument, though in combination they suggest that it is not an approach conservatives should take.

The first issue with manifests itself is that of states’ rights, a concept Will himself defends in the book. Leaving aside the judiciary’s rulings on federal matters, absent a clear contradiction of the constitutional text and meaning, a philosophy of judicial restraint with regards to state laws would be not only sensible, but in fact would be the correct way to honor the Framers’ intent as Will calls us to do.

Will defends this seeming tension with respect for state sovereignty by noting that states cannot abrogate the constitution. That is certainly true. Obviously no state can take it upon itself to legalize slavery, which is clearly prohibited by the 13th Amendment. Will wants to go a step further to recognize that the Ninth Amendment is not just an empty set of words, and establishes a principle for supporting rights not clearly laid out in the Bill of Rights and the Constitution in general.

The problem for Will is that the Constitution is a document meant to lay out the rules for the federal government, and not the states. As originally drafted and ratified, there was very little in the constitution that directly impacted and/or curtailed state actions. The republican guarantee and commerce clauses, for instance, constrained state actions. Otherwise, the Constitution was meant to enumerate (and limit) the powers of the federal government.

The reluctance to superimpose a federal viewpoint over the states is best demonstrated by the convention’s rejection of Madison’s proposal for Congress to have a veto over state laws, a veto Madison thought to be essential for the Constitution to have any teeth. Initially it was generally supported, but as the convention wore on, more delegates – particularly from the small states – argued against this provision, and it ultimately went down to defeat. Madison greatly lamented this, and he thought the lack of such a provision was one of the severest flaws in the Cconstitution.

But even Madison’s advocacy of a veto over state laws stemmed largely from his fear of state interference with federal laws. He didn’t begrudge the states from passing their own laws per se, but rather worried that certain state laws would contradict federal action. Thus even this proposal is less about protecting natural rights and more about protecting the federal government from state encroachment.

Will would rightly counter that the 14th Amendment changed the relationship of the Constitution to the states, at least in practice. He laments the Court’s Slaughterhouse decision, which practically nullified the privileges or immunities clause. But the due process clause has been used to bring the states to heel on a number of issues, and has essentially federalized the Bill of Rights. The question conservatives have to tackle is: how much power do the states retain?

This leads to the second problem with Will’s approach. Progressives mock originalism by contending that it turns judges into historians. A conservative could contend that Will’s natural rights approach turns judges into philosophers, arguing over the meaning of natural rights.

Many (though not all) on the right would agree with Will about the natural rights inclinations of the Framers. Natural rights advocates also believe that we’re constantly discovering what our natural rights entail. And that’s the rub. While a natural rights reading of the Lochner decision could stand upon the idea of the liberty of contract, it is not implausible to picture a progressive natural rights reading of the New York law as supporting the legislation. FDR’s “four freedoms” should provide insight into how a much different concept of natural rights would lead to outcomes Will – and conservatives – would very much disapprove of. Though I agree with Will’s natural rights reading of the Lochner decision and the liberty of contract, it’s not at all far-fetched to see a much different philosophy of natural rights reaching the opposite conclusions.

It’s commendable that Will recognizes that the Ninth Amendment and the privileges or immunities clause of the 14th Amendment are still parts of the Constitution, but how much power to interpret the meaning of those clauses in light of natural law should we give the courts? That leads us to the final objection. While Will again should be commended for not taking the easy conservative path of bashing the courts and questioning the judicial branch’s legitimacy, and is correct in highlighting the anti-majoritarian impulse of the Framers, this approach tilts the balance far too much towards the judiciary.

Conservatives have an uneasy relationship with democracy. I am certainly guilty of being reflexively anti-majoritarian. But we run the risk of going too far in our – let’s call it suspicion of democracy, or at least the democratic aspects of republicanism.

But it is, nonetheless, a republican form of government the Framers created and we’re trying to keep. And what is a republican government? According to Madison, in Federalist 39:

If we resort for a criterion to the different principles on which different forms of government are established, we may define a republic to be, or at least may bestow that name on, a government which derives all its powers directly or indirectly from the great body of the people, and is administered by persons holding their offices during pleasure, for a limited period, or during good behavior. It is ESSENTIAL to such a government that it be derived from the great body of the society, not from an inconsiderable proportion, or a favored class of it; otherwise a handful of tyrannical nobles, exercising their oppressions by a delegation of their powers, might aspire to the rank of republicans, and claim for their government the honorable title of republic. It is SUFFICIENT for such a government that the persons administering it be appointed, either directly or indirectly, by the people; and that they hold their appointments by either of the tenures just specified; otherwise every government in the United States, as well as every other popular government that has been or can be well organized or well executed, would be degraded from the republican character.

This broad definition doesn’t necessarily lead us to a satisfactory conclusion as to the rightful powers of the judiciary, but it indicates Madison’s frame of mind. Suspicious as he was of democratic majorities and of state power in general, he recognized there had to be an element of popular choice. Ultimately the people of the United States are sovereign. That sovereignty may be expressed in incompletely democratic forms, and the judiciary is itself a tangential product of popular sovereignty, as they are appointed by (indirectly) elected presidents and confirmed by (indirectly, at the time) elected Senators, and served during good behavior (thus subject, theoretically, to impeachment).

Though we created a republican government with limited democratic forms, there is a general sense that the genius (to borrow from Madison) of the people requires some aspect of popular choice and control. An unelected judiciary consistently overturning legislative majorities based on philosophy rather than the constitutional text will only embitter the citizenry, especially if it feels it has no ability whatsoever to undo the judiciary’s actions. This notion of almost complete judicial supremacy over the legislature, one which extends beyond the original concept of what the judicial branch was intended to be, goes well beyond simple anti-majoritarianism and is seemingly at odds with the very core of our national identity.

That’s not to say there isn’t a good deal of merit in Will’s advocacy of greater judicial activism. First of all, the term judicial activism, like so many political terms, has been abused to the point it merely means “Courts rendering decisions I don’t agree with.” And Will is right to urge courts to adjudicate based on the constitution. In other words, judicial restraint can itself be a form of political activism. For example, John Roberts deciding to find a curious rationale for upholding Obamacare was almost certainly motivated by his desire to restrain the Court from becoming involved in a political debate. Yet this decision itself was political, and lacked any defensible constitutional merit. Judges should judge, and then they may let the political chips fall where they may.

In general, Will isn’t far afield of the Famers. Though Will takes his cues from Madison, it is perhaps unsurprisingly Alexander Hamilton who comes closer to providing support for Will’s judicial philosophy. As Hamilton writes in Federalist 78, “[the judicial branch] is a no less excellent barrier to the encroachments and oppressions of the representative body.” Hamilton adds:

Nor does this conclusion by any means suppose a superiority of the judicial to the legislative power. It only supposes that the power of the people is superior to both; and that where the will of the legislature, declared in its statutes, stands in opposition to that of the people, declared in the Constitution, the judges ought to be governed by the latter rather than the former. They ought to regulate their decisions by the fundamental laws, rather than by those which are not fundamental.

This supports Will’s counter majoritarian argument. Hamilton here expresses the idea that judges must rule against democratically elected legislators when the latter act against the Constitution. But only the most ardent majoritarian would dispute that. The question remains: how do we know precisely when legislators have acted in defiance of the Constitution? And which aspects of the Constitution apply to state legislators? Hamilton provides something of an answer in Federalist 80:

It seems scarcely to admit of controversy, that the judicial authority of the Union ought to extend to these several descriptions of cases: 1st, to all those which arise out of the laws of the United States, passed in pursuance of their just and constitutional powers of legislation; 2d, to all those which concern the execution of the provisions expressly contained in the articles of Union; 3d, to all those in which the United States are a party; 4th, to all those which involve the PEACE of the CONFEDERACY, whether they relate to the intercourse between the United States and foreign nations, or to that between the States themselves; 5th, to all those which originate on the high seas, and are of admiralty or maritime jurisdiction; and, lastly, to all those in which the State tribunals cannot be supposed to be impartial and unbiased.

The first point is most relevant here. As Hamilton explains, “What, for instance, would avail restrictions on the authority of the State legislatures, without some constitutional mode of enforcing the observance of them? The States, by the plan of the convention, are prohibited from doing a variety of things, some of which are incompatible with the interests of the Union, and others with the principles of good government.”

It is this last point which resounds: the principles of good government. It is sufficiently vague to countenance a higher degree of judicial interference in state affairs than one would have imagined by the plain text of the Constitution. But again, this doesn’t quite provide a wholly satisfactory answer. State laws that contravene the Constitution should be declared null by the federal judiciary. But what of laws that run amok against “the principles of good government?”

Hamilton even addresses the privileges and immunities clause of Article IV, but here the reference is to states violating the rights of citizens from other states. This does not address internal laws impacting the state’s own citizens.

Will is on solid ground in defending the importance of an independent judiciary. Conservative frustration with court decisions has led many to call for reforms, some of which would strip the courts of their independence, or would limit their jurisdiction. While understandable, it is as true today as it was over two centuries ago that there must be an independent branch of government acting as a barrier against untrammeled majoritarianism.

But Will goes further than that. It would be an exaggeration to suggest Will is proposing the courts act like a council of ephors, but not much of one.

In a sense, Will is contradicting his own philosophy, and not just because this is a nationalistic judicial philosophy disruptive of state’s rights. As a libertarian-conservative, Will understands that human nature cannot be perfected, and that not all social ills can be corrected or cured. His is an anti-utopian philosophy. Will is also rightly at odds with the “post liberal” strand of conservatism which is so much in vogue, precisely because it has the faintest whiff of utopianism. Yet Will’s vision of an omnipotent judiciary acting as the guardian of natural rights is also semi-utopian. States may err in judgment and pass laws offensive to libertarian sensibilities. But just as post-liberals don’t seem to recognize the dangers of giving the government more power to discern “the good,” Will doesn’t seem to fully appreciate the dangers of giving the judiciary the unrestrained authority to declare what does and does not accord with natural rights. A court so fully invested with such a power may not act in strict accordance with libertarian principles. Just as conservatives should appreciate the importance of pluralism in acting as a safeguard for their practice of their values, a “libertarian orginalist” ought to appreciate the necessity of judicial deference. The alternative system may look a lot different than what is hoped for.

George Will has left us what an important contribution to the world of not just conservative thought, but political philosophy in general. His defense of natural rights and an independent judiciary, along with his anti-majoritarian impulse are all important countertrends to what we see in much of the conservative movement today. His judicial philosophy may place too much trust in the Solomonic wisdom of judges, but it is a worthwhile contribution and important guidepost.

The Real History of the Electoral College

Note: I’m reposting this from my old blog thanks to renewed efforts to get rid of the electoral college based on faulty premises.

It would take an act of enormous historical illiteracy to end my blogging hiatus. Congratulations are thus in order to the New York Times for providing me with such an example. In an editorial Jay Caruso has accurately labeled “historically inaccurate garbage,” the Times has called for the abolition of the electoral college. In the process of doing so, the Times’ editors reveal an understanding of American history which calls into question whether they’ve even taken high school-level American history classes.

The Electoral College, which is written into the Constitution, is more than just a vestige of the founding era; it is a living symbol of America’s original sin. When slavery was the law of the land, a direct popular vote would have disadvantaged the Southern states, with their large disenfranchised populations. Counting those men and women as three-fifths of a white person, as the Constitution originally did, gave the slave states more electoral votes.

Let’s address the slavery as the reason behind the electoral college argument. The New York Times links to a Time magazine article written by Akhil Reed Amar in which Amar attributes the electoral college’s existence to the advocacy of the slave states. He begins:

Some claim that the founding fathers chose the Electoral College over direct election in order to balance the interests of high-population and low-population states. But the deepest political divisions in America have always run not between big and small states, but between the north and the south, and between the coasts and the interior.

Some “claim” this because, well, it happens to be true. The divide at the constitutional convention was not between slave states and non-slave states,* but rather between large and small states. Remember, the convention kicked off with a presentation of the Virginia plan. This plan, authored in large part by James Madison but presented by Edmund Randolph, set the framework for much of the debate at the convention. Among other things, the plan proposed a bicameral legislature with representation in both houses based on population. The smaller states objected to it, and put forward their own plan. The New Jersey plan called for each state to have an equal voice in the legislature, a la the Articles of Confederation.

* As Caruso correctly notes, at the time of the convention, only a handful of states had even partially abolished slavery, and only Massachusetts had totally abolished it. That’s not to say that New York and South Carolina were equally vested in the continued propagation of the institution, but in 1787 the north-south divide on this issue was not nearly as intense as it would become in future years.

When it came to the large-small divide, there was a mixture of states. The large states included Massachusetts, Virginia, and Pennsylvania – in other words a mix of predominant slaveholding states and anti-slavery states. The small states included Connecticut, Delaware, New Jersey and Georgia – again, a mix of states with different views on slavery. Thus feelings about slavery had little to do with these respective coalitions. So already Amar is off to a poor start in actually grasping the nuances in early American history. But he’s not done.

One Founding-era argument for the Electoral College stemmed from the fact that ordinary Americans across a vast continent would lack sufficient information to choose directly and intelligently among leading presidential candidates.

This objection rang true in the 1780s, when life was far more local. But the early emergence of national presidential parties rendered the objection obsolete by linking presidential candidates to slates of local candidates and national platforms, which explained to voters who stood for what.

Even if one objects to the notion that political parties made this argument obsolete (they didn’t), it’s a bit anachronism to bring this into the debate over the electoral college, since parties didn’t actually exist at the time of the convention, and several of the Framers had rather deeply set feelings against parties (even if they would eventually spearhead the formation of those parties). So dismissing this objection when the reason for its supposed nullification didn’t yet exist is non-sensical.

Although the Philadelphia framers did not anticipate the rise of a system of national presidential parties, the 12th Amendment—proposed in 1803 and ratified a year later— was framed with such a party system in mind, in the aftermath of the election of 1800-01. In that election, two rudimentary presidential parties—Federalists led by John Adams and Republicans led by Thomas Jefferson—took shape and squared off. Jefferson ultimately prevailed, but only after an extended crisis triggered by several glitches in the Framers’ electoral machinery. In particular, Republican electors had no formal way to designate that they wanted Jefferson for president and Aaron Burr for vice president rather than vice versa. Some politicians then tried to exploit the resulting confusion.

Enter the 12th Amendment, which allowed each party to designate one candidate for president and a separate candidate for vice president. The amendment’s modifications of the electoral process transformed the Framers’ framework, enabling future presidential elections to be openly populist and partisan affairs featuring two competing tickets. It is the 12th Amendment’s Electoral College system, not the Philadelphia Framers’, that remains in place today. If the general citizenry’s lack of knowledge had been the real reason for the Electoral College, this problem was largely solved by 1800. So why wasn’t the entire Electoral College contraption scrapped at that point?

The 12th Amendment merely more carefully delineated the presidential and vice presidential election process. It did not amend the electoral college, nor did it necesssarily eliminate the basic need for the electoral college. But Amar knows the real reason the college wasn’t changed: demon slavery.

Standard civics-class accounts of the Electoral College rarely mention the real demon dooming direct national election in 1787 and 1803: slavery.

This sneering dismissal is ironic, as, if anything, slavery’s role in the formation of the constitution is over-estimated. But don’t worry, Amar has a tool at his disposal that most mere mortals who only have taken standard civics classes don’t: google. So Amar no doubt entered into his search “constitutional convention electoral college slavery” and came back with literally the only result that would have populated – a speech given by James Madison in July of 1787 during the convention.

At the Philadelphia convention, the visionary Pennsylvanian James Wilson proposed direct national election of the president. But the savvy Virginian James Madison responded that such a system would prove unacceptable to the South: “The right of suffrage was much more diffusive [i.e., extensive] in the Northern than the Southern States; and the latter could have no influence in the election on the score of Negroes.” In other words, in a direct election system, the North would outnumber the South, whose many slaves (more than half a million in all) of course could not vote. But the Electoral College—a prototype of which Madison proposed in this same speech—instead let each southern state count its slaves, albeit with a two-fifths discount, in computing its share of the overall count.

As I said, this is literally the only time during the entire convention that slavery came up in the context of the election of the executive. Unfortunately for Amar, an actual reading of the entire convention debate outside of this one quote proves that his magic bullet is not so magical.

First of all, some context is in order. Throughout much of the early part of the convention it was assumed the executive would be chosen by the legislature. It wasn’t until about the second part of the convention that the debate really kicked in over the method of selecting an executive.

There were a couple of intertwined debates. Some argued that if the executive were to be selected by the legislature, then he should not be eligible to serve more than one term. If eligible to serve more than one term, then the executive would be beholden to the legislature, and would therefore not be an independent force.

Amar is correct in pointing out that Wilson advocated a popular selection of the president, and his fellow statesman Gouverneur Morris also advocated for a selection independent of the legislature. Many other delegates – both from small and large states, as well as anti-slavery and slaveholding states – scoffed at the idea of any popular participation in the selection of the executive. Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts insisted on more than one occasion that the general mass of the population were ill-educated and would be easily duped, and as such should have no say in the selection of the executive.

As the debate continued over several days, it was clear that the dividing line was not between slave states and non-slave states, or even large and small states (though that certainly was a part of it), but rather between individuals who had a more populist bent and those whose inclinations were more, shall we say, aristocratic. The debate was in large part a reflection of the general feeling that the mass of citizens did not have the proper qualifications and knowledge to make such a crucial decision. Even those who did not think it proper for the legislature to choose the executive did not openly advocate a popular election.

Enter James Madison. It’s odd, though understandable, that Amar focuses on Madison, as at the time he delivered his speech at the convention cited here he was closer to Wilson than most of the other delegates. The bulk of his speech was actually dedicated to expressing his opposition to the legislative method of choosing the executive. In point of fact, Madison expressed his preference for a popular vote, a preference he repeated at another point in September when the convention made its final determinations. What Amar is quoting is a small section of Madison’s address where he concedes the potential drawbacks to a popular vote. Contrary to Amar’s implication, Madison’s concern was not with how the southern states would be disadvantaged by slavery, but rather the more restrictive franchise requirements that existed in the south. Madison’s argument was that more people would be eligible to vote in the north, irrespective of slavery, thus furthering the imbalance. Madison repeated this point in September, with absolutely no mention of slavery.

Therefore the one and only convention speech Amar points to as proof of his thesis actually contradicts it, at least when read in its entirety.

And that is the entirety of Amar’s argument – this one speech, and the fact that a whole bunch of Virginians were elected president. Nevermind that those Virginians included the man who led our country to independence, the author of the Declaration of Independence, and one of the primary authors of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. No, it’s all about slavery.

There were literally dozens and dozens of speeches made at the constitutional convention regarding the election of the executive, and one of them contained a passing reference to slavery. Yet Amar, and in turn the New York Times, uses this as justification for contending that the electoral college is completely about defending slave interests. Even if one counters that the framers were too wily to openly state their true intentions, a careful reading of the entirety of the debates shows that the delegates were motivated by completely different factors.

And of course there is one of the most elegant defenses of the electoral college ever made – Federalist 68. In it the author celebrated the electoral college for giving the people a voice in the selection of the president while providing an intermediate body of electors whose judgement would presumably be more discerning. As the author states, it’s all about preserving an orderly process:

It was also peculiarly desirable to afford as little opportunity as possible to tumult and disorder. This evil was not least to be dreaded in the election of a magistrate, who was to have so important an agency in the administration of the government as the President of the United States. But the precautions which have been so happily concerted in the system under consideration, promise an effectual security against this mischief. The choice of several, to form an intermediate body of electors, will be much less apt to convulse the community with any extraordinary or violent movements, than the choice of one who was himself to be the final object of the public wishes. And as the electors, chosen in each State, are to assemble and vote in the State in which they are chosen, this detached and divided situation will expose them much less to heats and ferments, which might be communicated from them to the people, than if they were all to be convened at one time, in one place.

Now who was the author of this celebrated piece? Why, none other than the bastard, son of a whore and a Scotsman. Yes, the immigrant, New Yorker, and ardent slavery opponent Alexander Hamilton. Somehow I don’t think he viewed the electoral college as a vestige of slavery. But what did he know?

Amar tries to move the goalposts by arguing that even if the electoral college at inception wasn’t about slavery, later events (which, by the way, he completely exaggerates while relying on dubious methodolgies to determine who really should have won the election of 1800) made it about slavery. Now, it’s curious that the institution which made Abraham Lincoln’s ascendancy to the presidency possible should retroactively be seen as a gatekeeper for the peculiar institution, but so be it.

Now let’s get back to the Times. The editors throw in a whole bunch of other familiar arguments about the folly of the electoral college and its unfairness. Since this is strictly an historical post I won’t get into all that, so I’ll let you read the rest of Jay Caruso’s post. I’ll just note that throwing in the slavery non sequitur is nothing more than an attempt to gloss over the weakness of the Times’s overall argument. By continually parotting the historically inaccurate line that the electoral college is all about protecting slavery – an argument repeated by equally historical illiterate leftists on twitter and other platforms – we are supposed to throw away this “ancient” and “outdated” mode of election. Unfortunately these arguments do nothing more than to reveal that those making them don’t even have the first clue about American history and the debates surrounding the constitution, thus making anything else they have to offer of dubious merit.

At the very least we can take confort in the knowledge that people like Akhil Reed Amar have little influence outside the barely-read pages of Time.

Akhil Reed Amar teaches constitutional law at Yale University. This essay borrows from his recently published book, The Constitution Today.

 To quote Dr. Hibbert, upon learning that Homer is working at a nuclear power plant: Oh Good Lord. Although this picture might be more appropriate.
facepalm

The Emergency Order, Bad Arguments, and Logical Fallacies

Now that President Trump has issued the emergency declaration on the wall, I thought I would reiterate something I said multiple times during the Obama administration: there is no “The President thinks something is really really important but Congress won’t act so the President just gets to do whatever he wants” clause in the constitution. The Veruca Salt standard simply doesn’t exist. While I think the Democrat opposition to the wall is overwrought (and indeed now some have even indicated they want to remove the border barriers that doers exit), President Trump has had ample time to secure additional border wall funding. A changeover in Congressional leadership doesn’t constitute a national emergency.

I wanted to take the bulk of this post to address some of the responses I’ve seen, both in opposition and in defense of this action.

I’ll start with one argument made by opponents of the move that I deem to be overstated. They argue that this will set a precedent for future Democratic presidents to declare national emergencies over, say, climate change and healthcare*. There is a little bit of truth to this – as I said on twitter, each new precedent has a bit of snowball effect. But when looking at the cast of characters which constitutes the current Democratic presidential field, who doesn’t think that one of them will do this anyway? President Obama’s DACA order was arguably even less meritorious than President Trump’s actions here (where exactly was the crisis in not providing legal status to the children of illegal immigrants?), and it was President Obama who uttered his petulant “I’ve got a pen and a phone” threat when he grew frustrated with the constitution’s pesky limitations. If anything, Democrats have grown even more radical, and I don’t think President Trump increases the likelihood of future despotic actions.

* I’ve seen more than a few tweets in recent days about 28 million uninsured Americans being a graver national emergency. But I’m confused: wasn’t Obamacare supposed to solve this problem? I thought Obamacare was a “big fucking deal.” Well if there are still 28 million uninsured, maybe it was really nothing more than a “little useless clusterfuck.”

The flipside of the above is the argument from defenders of the administration is that we already have precedent, so Donald Trump’s actions are not unprecedented. Again, there’s an element of truth here, but that doesn’t make right-wing defenders of the president any less hypocritical. If you were (rightly) crying bloody murder every time President Obama used his pen and picked up his phone, you cannot now defend President Trump doing the same. If the “but daddy I want it” justification for emergency declarations is pathetic, even worse is the “but mommy he did it first” defense of the declaration. Speaking of setting precedents, you now have sent a clear message that the right-side of the political spectrum is cool with unilateral, unconstitutional, and unlawful presidential declarations so long as the end-result is fine by you. That seemingly less than about ten percent of the American public consistently even cares about constitutional law is indeed depressing.

As for the unlawful part of this, defenders say that “hey, Congress set us on this path, and the president is just doing what’s in his legal authority.” I’m not one to shy away from blasting Congress for cowering in fear to assert its rights as the superior  branch of the federal government, but I am not persuaded that the president is acting within the very generous parameters laid out by Congress. As David French explains in National Review, this is an abuse of the statutory authority given away by Congress.

Look at the list carefully. He’s listing criminal challenges. He’s listing humanitarian challenges. He’s listing the problems on the border that have existed for decades and that Congress has enacted comprehensive statutory schemes (including funding civilian wall construction and civilianimmigration authorities) to combat. Gang activity and drug-smuggling are grave problems, but they are crimes, not acts of war. The declaration doesn’t even try to argue that there is a precise, unique challenge that only the military can counter — such as a national disaster that would require the use of the military’s unrivaled heavy-lift capabilities or its immediate access to manpower.

Instead, the declaration cites the wasteful 2018 border deployment, but that is only evidence that the military has been used, not that it must be used. If the mere fact of a deployment were proof of the necessity of military intervention, then there would be no limiting principle on a president’s action. The message is clear — the military is “required” simply because he says it is required.

I was called a “neocon” on Twitter for having the temerity to argue that the president has no constitutional or statutory authority to justify issuing this emergency declaration. It is a sign of the lack of intellectual heft of much of the populist right that they believe defending constitutional norms is a sign of “new” conservative thinking.

I guess I could just sit back and laugh when President Harris issues a presidential emergency declaration shutting down the health insurance industry and forcing all Americans onto Medicare. It could be humorous to see the contortions of the overwhelming majority of Americans suddenly switching their opinions on such declarations. Instead I’ll just weep as our constitution becomes all but a dead letter.

That’s Not How the Constitution Works, Mr. President

Hey guys, do you recall the “if Congress isn’t being reasonable, the President gets to do what he wants” clause of the U.S. Constitution? I don’t, but evidently President Trump has access to the secret Constitution.

President Trump on Wednesday resumed his threat to bypass Congress and fund the construction of a border wall by declaring a national emergency if Democrats maintain their opposition to his funding demands.

“I have the absolute right to do national emergency if I want,” Trump told reporters during a White House pool spray. “My threshold will be if I can’t make a deal with people that are unreasonable.”

As AP reminds us earlier in his post, this is the same exact rationale President Obama employed with DACA. It was outrageous then, and it is outrageous now for President Trump to consider using executive action here.

President Obama threw quite a few presidential tantrums – the equivalent of Veruca Salt saying “But Daddy I want it” – whenever Congress didn’t give him what he wanted, so he acted unilaterally and without constitutional sanction, and fortunately he was slapped down quite a few times, and unanimously so, by the Supreme Court. Sadly, President Obama is not the only president to think that “urgent” matters give him unprecedented authority. Blame Congress both in its dithering and in its unwillingness to slap down presidents if you want – I certainly do – but it takes one to do the unconstitutional tango.

It doesn’t matter how important a given president thinks the issue is. There are clear mechanisms for pursuing a given action, and the president does not just get to act unilaterally in most cases just because Congress can’t agree on a given course. Sometimes executive orders are given under rightful circumstances. No one in their right mind should think we’ve reached such a crisis point of national security that the president should be able to go all Samantha on Bewitched, blink his eyes, and get what he wants.

And if you do think the president would be acting justly in this matter, I hope you take the same position when a future Democrat president declares that climate change is the moral equivalent of war and he can thus shut down all coal and natural gas plants on his say-so.

A Civics Lesson for Our Speaker

So Nancy Pelosi recently had this to say:

When Pelosi was asked whether she considers herself equal to Trump, she said, “The Constitution does,” The New York Times reported.

Pelosi’s position as Speaker makes her the second in line for the presidency should something happen to Trump, after Vice President Pence, according to the Constitution.

There are two ways to intepret Pelosi’s comment, and neither one is flattering regarding her understanding of the constitution. The more charitable interpretation is that she means the legislative branch is co-equal to the executive. In this case, she would be underestimating her own branch’s standing. Jay Cost and Luke Thompson have a done a fantastic job on their Constitutionally Speaking podcast to debunk this long-held cliche about “co-equal” branches. If you have spent any time examining the political thought of the Framers, you’d immediately be disabused of the notion that they thought the three branches were equal. The legislative branch, as the branch representing the people, was held to be the superior branch. One can look at the powers delegated to each branch and recognize the implicit belief in legislative superiority. What the constitution expounded was not “separate but equal,” but rather the idea that each branch had defined roles, with some amount of intermingling powers as a “check” on those powers. But the idea they were equal in weight is not supported by a reading of the constitution or an understanding of the history.

If Pelosi is instead asserting that her position is equal to the presidency itself, well that’s just absurd on its face. That the Speaker comes second in the line of succession is proof not of its equality, but of its inferiority to the presidency. The Speakership is barely mentioned in the constitution other than to define how the Speaker is chosen. The Speaker of the House’s powers are largely a creation of House rules, not of the constitution itself. The Speaker cannot issue executive orders, appoint constitutional officers, make war, or any of the other myriad constitutionally defined powers of the executive. While Congress as a whole may be superior to the Executive, the Speaker of the House alone is not even remotely within the president’s orbit in terms of actual power.

We’re already off to a wonderful start in Nancy Part II.

 

 

What’s a Little Article V Among Friends?

 .  . . and that no State, without its Consent, shall be deprived of its equal Suffrage in the Senate. – Article V, U.S. Constitution

The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, elected by the people thereof, for six years; and each Senator shall have one vote. – 17th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution

Even a curmudgeon like me will concede that not all debates over constitutional meaning are crystal clear. Interpreting original meaning (or intent, if you prefer) can be difficult. Trying to determine whether the freedom of speech clause of the first amendment really applies to political donations, or whether the first amendment even applies to the federal government at all, is not necessarily black and white.

But then there are certain clauses which are really not open to interpretation. There’s no creative way to argue that a 31-year old man born and naturalized in France is eligible for the presidency. Similarly, the equal composition of the Senate is laid out in black and white throughout the constitutional text. More importantly, this is one element of the constitution that cannot simply be amended by the traditional process. As laid out in Article V of the U.S. Constitution, no state can be deprived of equal suffrage in the Senate without its consent. This means that for all practical purposes equal suffrage in the Senate cannot be altered unless every single state assents to this change, which really means that equal suffrage in the Senate cannot be altered. This would seem pretty straightforward.

Not if you’re a writer for the Atlantic with a day job teaching Legal Studies at Business Ethics at Wharton, because Eric Orts has a proposition for you: we’ll just legislate this pesky hindrance away. No, seriously:

There’s a better, more elegant, constitutional way out. Let’s allocate one seat to each state automatically to preserve federalism, but apportion the rest based on population. Here’s how.

Start with the total U.S. population, then divide by 100, since that’s the size of the current, more deliberative upper chamber. Next, allocate senators to each state according to their share of the total; 2/100 equals two senators, 3/100 equals three, etc. Update the apportionment every decade according to the official census.

In the new allocation, the total number of senators would be 110. The total is more than 100 because 10 of the smallest states have much less than 0.5/100 of the U.S. population but are still entitled to one senator each.

So how do you get out of the clear constitutional prohibition against this change? Legislation, of course:

First, consider that Article V applies only to amendments. Congress would adopt the Rule of One Hundred scheme as a statute; let’s call it the Senate Reform Act. Because it’s legislation rather than an amendment, Article V would—arguably—not apply.

Second, the states, through the various voting-rights amendments—the Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Nineteenth, Twenty-Fourth, and Twenty-Sixth—have already given their “consent” by directing Congress to adopt legislation to protect equal voting rights, and this delegated power explicitly applies to “the United States” as well as the states. The Senate Reform Act would simply shift seats according to population. No state or its citizens would lose the franchise.

Note that even states that did not ratify the voting-rights amendments have, functionally, consented to them, and thus also to the constitutional logic supporting a Senate Reform Act. As Justice Clarence Thomas explained in 1995, “The people of each State obviously did trust their fate to the people of the several States when they consented to the Constitution; not only did they empower the governmental institutions of the United States, but they also agreed to be bound by constitutional amendments that they themselves refused to ratify.”

There are so many logical problems with this that you can drive a truck through them, and fortunately Charles Cooke has done the job natural-born Americans won’t do:

Never in the history of the English language has the word “arguably” done as much work to support the sentences around it. And never, ever has it been so cruelly exposed to ridicule. On Orts’s rationale, Congress could amend any part of the Constitution by legislation. Want to abolish the First Amendment? Just pass the repeal through Congress on a simple majority vote. Easy! That the various branches of government are formed by the Constitution itself — and, by extension, that they cannot amend their own structure without that Constitution being amended — is the most elementary rule in all of American law. It cannot be undone by wishful thinking. Indeed, if anything, the Senate’s structure is the most permanent variable in the entire U.S. Constitution, given that it not only enjoys the same protection as everything else, but has an extra layer on top that ensures that any alteration be made with the consent of those directly affected. For Orts to treat the most heavily guarded item within the document as if it were the most easily circumvented is nothing less than extraordinary, and suggests to me that he believes his audience is stupid.

As to point two:

Even for those of us who are accustomed to learning in awe about the many innovative policies the architects of the Reconstruction Amendments intended secretly to mandate in the future, this one is a doozy. Insofar as it can be followed, Orts’s case here is that (a) the Constitution protects equal voting rights, (b) that, in his view, the Senate does not protect equal voting rights, so (c) the Constitution mandates that the Senate be altered — presumably via the “arguable” legislative method outlined above. Historically, legally, and linguistically, this approach is bizarre: If the framers of the “Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Nineteenth, Twenty-Fourth, and Twenty-Sixth” amendments had wanted to abolish or amend the Senate, they would have done so — or, rather, they wouldn’t have done so, because their amendments would have failed spectacularly at the first hurdle. Worse still, it is extremely dangerous, for if Orts’s approach were to be indulged, we would quickly move so far beyond both the security of both stare decisis and plain language as to invite endless, untrammeled chaos. Why? Well, because one can play his game with anything. First, you find a part of the Constitution that guarantees a favored end — say, “establish justice,” “promote general welfare,” or guarantee “freedom of the press”; then you contend that this end is incompatible with any other provision you happen not to like; and, finally, you explain that the provision you dislike is itself unconstitutional. At best, this method represents cheap sophistry. At worst, it represents anarchy. Again: “Our Constitution is more malleable than many imagine” is a euphemism for “We must ignore the law as it is written.”

Now take it home Charles:

But we must not, of course. Rather, we must ignore Orts, and we must push back against people who believe their job is to rewrite history and to misinform on a grand scale. I can see why certain professors feel the need to do this: Absurd as his cases always are, my proverbial Grunton Rabitini of Soiled Woods College has his words repeated widely by the unprincipled and the uninformed. But I cannot see why The Atlantic needs to publish it. We have a civics problem already in this country. Professor Orts and his editors just made it that little bit worse.

Unbelievably, Orts tried to fight back on Twitter, spending most of the time (incorrectly) complaining that Cooke failed to substantively address any of his points, relying instead on personal attacks, even as Orts accuses Cooke of taking his position because of “white privilege.” Even by the usual dumb standards of Twitter it was pretty horrific.

It’s sad to recall that Orts is an actual professor who teaches college students, because his understanding of constitutional law couldn’t be much dimmer than his average student.

Against the Filibuster

There’s a meme that goes around Twitter every now and again: express your unpopular opinion. Based on conversations I’ve had through the years, my views on the filibuster might be unpopular with large swathes of the right and probably even the left.

I’ve never been comfortable with the filibuster. The 60-vote threshold seemed like an especially onerous and unfair threshold when it came to judicial appointments, and I advocated nuking the filibuster long before Harry Reid helpfully did so a few years ago. Therefore, I was happy when Harry Reid and the Democrats abandoned the judicial filibuster, and not just because I knew then it would eventually come back to bite them on the ass.

But the filibuster’s artificial 60-vote threshold seemed unfair even when it came to ordinary legislation. While it is not unconstitutional, it is certainly an extra-constitutional mechanism. Sure, the Senate is free to set its own rules, and the constitution’s language doesn’t prohibit a higher floor either in the context of the Senate’s advice and consent role or for legislation to be deemed as passed by the Senate. Yet it seemed then, and still seems now an extra barrier to getting things done.

Conservatives in particular view the filibuster as a device that works in the interests of limited government. And whichever party happens to be the minority at the moment values the filibuster as a mechanism to help preserve their interests. But the constitution itself is already a document designed to slow the machinery of government. The filibuster is a cheat, and arguably does more to diminish reliance on these other constitutional designs. For instance, the higher threshold to get legislation through the Senate could lead (and has lead) presidents to make end-runs around Congress. In these cases, the filibuster not only doesn’t prevent whatever ill-considered action from going through, it promotes other unconstitutional behavior from the president. It also eliminates the opportunity for compromise that would minimize the potential deleterious effects of ill-advised action.

The filibuster is also unevenly applied. Depending on the specific type of legislation under consideration, it may not even be applicable. Now it no longer is available in the context of judicial nominations. This just leads to more parliamentary maneuvering that further undermines faith in the legislative process.

As alluded to above, reliance on the filibuster draws attention away from other constitutional mechanisms designed to restrain the government. The concentration of power in the executive and judicial branches is a much more serious threat to our constitutional order. If anything, the filibuster might prevent reforms from being enacted to address those concerns. The filibuster, especially if a conservative majority ever emerged in the Senate (I won’t hold my breath), actually would become a tool of the very administrative state we’re supposed to be fighting.

The filibuster is really designed to ensure debate takes place on contentious issues. I would have no problem with a system in which failure to invoke cloture simply meant debate would continue for some amount of time. But real debate would have to take place. Then, after the pre-determined period elapsed, a vote would occur regardless of whether the 60-vote threshold is met.

I thus have no problem with the filibuster as a means of slowing down the process to allow for more debate and potential compromise. It should not be an artificially high upper threshold meaning nothing gets by the Senate without a super-majority.

The Left’s Ill-Gotten Gains

I’m short on time for the next couple of days, so I won’t be able to post anything of substance. In the meantime, here’s a Kevin Williamson post which, as almost always, cuts to the heart of a matter. The left has been far more reliant on the Court to uphold rights it views as intrinsic, and that’s what scares them so much about the future of the Court.

And that is what terrifies the Left about the current direction of the Supreme Court. Roe v. Wadere presents ill-gotten political gains. While the NRA got a big win in the courts a few years back — one entirely in keeping with the actual text of the Constitution as it exists, not as progressives wish it were — it mainly has advanced its agenda and defended its agenda and defended its gains through ordinary democratic politics. It is not, contrary to the myth, a particularly big political donor or spender (not even in the top 100 last I checked) that gets things done by throwing money around. Until its recent (and, in my view, ill-advised) metamorphosis into a full-spectrum culture-war outfit, the NRA was a very disciplined and narrowly focused single-issue outfit, which made it truly bipartisan: Harry Reid may have been a train wreck on 99.99 percent of the issues, but he was solid on guns, and the NRA credited him for that.

NARAL and Planned Parenthood, who together form what we might understand as the NRA of abortion rights, are above all things terrified that they might be reduced to ordinary democratic political activism in a post-Roe world. They want to defend those ill-gotten gains, and they understand that the American consensus on abortion is a lot closer to the thinking of, say, George W. Bush than it is to that of the butchers’ guild. There is volatility in the polling, but by and large Americans take a pretty liberal view of abortion in the first trimester and in cases involving rape, incest, or serious threats to the health of the mother; they are open to many kinds of restriction and take a much more restrictive view as the pregnancy advances. If democratic preferences prevail, it is likely that U.S. abortion regulation will end up looking something more like what prevails in much of Europe. Not as restrictive as pro-lifers would like, but more restrictive than what we have.

Read the rest at the link I provided.

Rethinking Jeff Flake’s Rethinking

John McCormack credits Jeff Flake for helping to clear Brett Kavanaugh’s name through his push for a one week pause in the proceedings.

Shortly after 11 a.m. on Thursday, October 4, Democratic senators Dianne Feinstein and Chuck Schumer spoke to the press following a confidential briefing about the FBI’s supplemental background check. While the senators were limited about what they could say, Feinstein focused first on the fact that neither Kavanaugh nor Ford, who testified publicly for hours last week, were interviewed by the FBI.

If the FBI investigation had turned up some groundbreaking new information, that is not the kind of thing you’d expect the Democratic senators to focus on.

The FBI interviewed all the alleged party attendees—Ford’s lifelong female friend Leland Ingham Keyser, Kavanaugh friend P.J. Smyth, and alleged accomplice Mark Judge. Keyser had previously said she recalls no party at which Kavanaugh was present and does not know Kavanaugh. Schumer and Feinstein gave no indication Keyser has changed her story.

The FBI also interviewed Chris Garrett, a person Ford went out with around the time of the alleged assault in 1982 and Ford’s only known social connection to Kavanaugh and Judge. The FBI also interviewed Tim Gaudette, who hosted a July 1, 1982, party that has been the focus of much speculation. Schumer and Feinstein gave no indication those interviews turned up groundbreaking information.

Senate Judiciary Committee chairman Chuck Grassley said in a statement: “This investigation found no hint of misconduct and the same is true of the six prior FBI background investigations conducted during Judge Kavanaugh’s 25 years of public service.”

Republican senator Susan Collins of Maine, a key undecided vote, said this morning: “It appears to be a very thorough investigation.”

Indeed, the constant goalpost moving is a sure sign that the FBI investigation turned up nothing to corroborate Ford’s allegations, and other developments suggest Ford’s case against Kavanaugh is more suspect than we thought even a week ago.

So, did Flake wind up helping Kavanaugh, or at least did he help engineer something which will at ease some of the bitter feelings against him? I am not sure about that. Susan Collins is set to announce her vote, and Flake has already said he is now a yes (though he’s said that before). If Collins and/or Manchin vote for Kavanaugh, then he will be confirmed despite Lisa Murkowski’s no vote. At the very least, then, this pause didn’t hurt Kavanaugh.

But did it really make a difference? Did the general public’s opinion of the situation change appreciably? McCormack ably lays out the various ways the case against Kavanaugh has crumbled, but how many people are paying close attention and had their opinions change? That may be unknowable.

At the very least, I have been moved enough to delete an earlier post about Flake’s actions from a week ago. It was much too snarky and condescending, and in retrospect I let emotions run away from me.

Oddly, it was listening to Rush Limbaugh that caused me to delete the post. I have listened to Limbaugh only a handful of times in the past three years, and just happened to catch his program for a few minutes today. He was actually very understanding towards Flake, Collins, and Murkowski. The three of them have been inundated with calls, emails, tweets, etc, and they have received vile threats against them and their families. All Republicans have, but these three have borne the brunt of most of the anger. I can’t imagine what it would be like to face that much hate, and to receive credible threats against one’s security.

Buckling to the angry voices – as Flake may have done after being confronted by angry protesters – does embolden those angry voices, but I also haven’t been in his shoes. I’m not totally convinced Flake should receive credit for his seeming change of heart, but I’ll give him enough benefit of the doubt to back off my earlier denunciation.

Orval Faubus Comes to California

Though certainly not nearly a sentiment shared by most conservatives, some have suggested that the proper response to judicial overreach is to simply ignore the courts. In other words, for example, Donald Trump should have made like Andrew Jackson when his travel ban was put on hold and declared that “The Ninth Circuit has made its decision, let them enforce it.”*

More popular on the right – though again, not necessarily a majority opinion – is the concept of nullification. According to this theory, states are within their constitutional rights to ignore federal law that is facially unconstitutional. Thomas Jefferson justified this concept in his draft of the Kentucky Resolutions  (in response to the alien and sedition acts), though Madison did not go so far in the Virginia Resolutions.

Both sentiments are put forward as proof as the recklessness of the right. Furthermore, the intransigence of certain states righters is historically symbolized by the likes of Orval Fauvus, who defied the Supreme Court’s order to desegregate public schools. Thus these concepts are tied with the forces of evil and racism.

So which state is actively engaged in both nullification and defiance of court orders? Alabama? Mississippi? Texas? Look away, look away, look away, it’s California.

That’s right. Not only is California acting in de facto nullification by prohibiting all local governments from cooperating with federal officials to uphold immigration law, the state is now ignoring a court order barring the state from enforcing this statute upon charter cities who refuse to be sanctuary cities.

Despite an Orange County judge’s ruling this week that California’s so-called sanctuary protections for immigrants who are in the country illegally are unconstitutional as they apply to charter cities, state Atty. Gen. Xavier Becerra said Friday that the state would continue to uphold its laws.

“Preserving the safety and constitutional rights of all our people is a statewide imperative which cannot be undermined by contrary local rules,” Becerra said in a statement. “We will continue working to ensure that our values and laws like the California Values Act are upheld throughout our state.”

SB 54 is the law in question here, and I don’t see how it can be viewed as anything but nullification. In essence, California is saying it will not comply with federal law. Or, to put it a bit differently, it will refuse to cooperate with enforcement of federal law. Not only that, but it has prohibited municipalities from even thinking of cooperation.

More troubling, though, is the state’s ostentatious “eff you” to the ruling issued last week exempting charter cities in the state from the law. Not only will the state refuse to comply with the feds, it’s bluntly saying that no court will make it respect the will of resident in any locality which chooses not to participate in California’s defiance.

Most Californians vociferously denounce the supposed tyranny of President Trump, yet he has done nothing even remotely as brazen as this.

I must also chuckle at Becerra go on about “preserving” the “constitutional rights” of all Californians. So the constitutional rights of illegal aliens must be upheld, even though they possess no such rights. As for the lawful citizens of their state, such constitutional guarantees as the right to a republican form of government can safely be ignored.

And people wonder why much of the country looks upon California with disdain.

*It is not certain Andrew Jackson actually said this famous quote about Marshall, but the sentiment was a historical fact.