Campbell on Constitutional Rights Before Realism

Jud Campbell, University of Richmond School of Law, has posted Constitutional Rights Before Realism, which appears in the University of Illinois Law Review 2020: 1433-1454:

Stephen J. Field (LC)

This Essay excavates a forgotten way of thinking about the relationship between state and federal constitutional rights that was prevalent from the Founding through the early twentieth century. Prior to the ascendancy of legal realism, American jurists understood most fundamental rights as a species of general law that applied across jurisdictional lines, regardless of whether these rights were constitutionally enumerated. And like other forms of general law, state and federal courts shared responsibility for interpreting and enforcing these rights. Nor did the Fourteenth Amendment initially disrupt this paradigm in ways that we might expect. Rather than viewing rights secured by the Fourteenth Amendment as distinctively “national,” most early interpreters thought that these rights remained a species of general law. For several decades, debates instead focused on the extent to which these rights were enforceable in federal court, akin to the way that federal courts could hear general-law claims in diversity-jurisdiction cases. It was only with the rise of legal realism that American jurists began to conceptualize fundamental rights distinctively in terms of state (constitutional) law and federal (constitutional) law and to divide interpretive authority into state and federal spheres.

–Dan Ernst

Likhovski on Constitutional Duties in Israel

Assaf Likhovski, Tel Aviv University Buchmann Faculty of Law, has posted The Rise and Demise of Constitutional Duties in Israel, which is forthcoming in the American Journal of Legal History:

In many constitutions, constitutional duties appear alongside constitutional rights. However, the history of constitutional duties, unlike the history of constitutional rights, is a neglected topic. This article is a case-study of the history of constitutional duties in Israel. The article documents the appearance of duties in Israeli constitutional texts and debates in the 1950s and shows that the interest in duties was connected to the view that a major role of constitutions was to serve as educational, rather than legal, texts. The article then analyzes the decline of duties discourse in Israel pointing to the 1960s as the watershed decade in which duties disappeared. Finally, the article discusses a number of possible factors that led to the waning of the notion of constitutional duties, focusing specifically on the juridification of Israeli law and society. Fluctuations in interest in constitutional duties, the article concludes, are connected to changing understandings of the nature of constitutions, and, more broadly, to shifts in the relative importance of law and lawyers in society.

–Dan Ernst.  H/t: Legal Theory Blog

A Symposium on Sullivan's "Church State Corporation"

The symposium Secularism, religion, and the public sphere has recently concluded over at The Immanent Frame, the blog of the Social Science Research Council.  It is devoted to Church State Corporation: Construing Religion in US Law (University of Chicago Press, 2020), by Winnifred Fallers Sullivan, Indian University-Bloomington.

First, here is the publisher’s copy and TOC for Professor Sullivan’s book:

Church and state: a simple phrase that reflects one of the most famous and fraught relationships in the history of the United States. But what exactly is “the church,” and how is it understood in US law today? In Church State Corporation, religion and law scholar Winnifred Fallers Sullivan uncovers the deeply ambiguous and often unacknowledged ways in which Christian theology remains alive and at work in the American legal imagination.

Through readings of the opinions of the US Supreme Court and other legal texts, Sullivan shows how “the church” as a religious collective is granted special privilege in US law. In-depth analyses of Hosanna-Tabor v. EEOC and Burwell v. Hobby Lobby reveal that the law tends to honor the religious rights of the group—whether in the form of a church, as in Hosanna-Tabor, or in corporate form, as in Hobby Lobby—over the rights of the individual, offering corporate religious entities an autonomy denied to their respective members. In discussing the various communities that construct the “church-shaped space” in American law, Sullivan also delves into disputes over church property, the legal exploitation of the black church in the criminal justice system, and the recent case of Masterpiece Cakeshop v. Colorado Civil Rights Commission. Brimming with insight, Church State Corporation provocatively challenges our most basic beliefs about the ties between religion and law in ostensibly secular democracies.

Here’s the TOC:

Introduction. The Definite Article
Chapter 1. The Church Makes an Appearance: Hosanna-Tabor v. EEOC
Chapter 2. “The Mother of Religion”: The Church Property Cases
Chapter 3. Hobby Lobby: The Church, the State, and the Corporation
Chapter 4. The Body of Christ in Blackface
Conclusion. The Church-in-law Otherwise
 
And here is the SSRC symposium:

Introduction:  Mona Oraby (Amherst)
Leora Batnitzky (Princeton):  An American Political Theology?
Samuel Moyn (Yale): Jurisdictions of the Church
Nandini Chatterjee (Univ. of Exeter):  Imagining Community
Linda Greenhouse (Yale and the New York Times):  Why Not Just Abolish the Religion Clauses?
Julian Rivers (Univ. of Bristol Law): "... by law established": A transatlantic dialogue

--Dan Ernst.  H/t: FK

Harrison on the Delegation Problem

John C. Harrison, University of Virginia School of Law, has posted Executive Discretion in Administering the Government's Rights and the Delegation Problem:

Governments regulate private conduct. They also exercise rights of ownership and contract that are like those of private people. From the founding to today, executive officials have exercised substantial policy discretion in managing the government's own resources. That practice is consistent with the text and structure of the Constitution. Administering the government's resources, and making policy judgments in doing so, is at the core of carrying the law into execution. The executive itself does not have power to create programs that employ federal resources such as federal funds, but when Congress creates such a program, it may leave many important choices to the executive. At most, the Constitution requires that Congress provide an intelligible principle to guide that discretion. The non-delegation principle concerning regulation of private conduct may be more demanding than that, but the exercise of the government's own rights is a distinct category of executive activity. The practical scope of this principle is substantial. Federal spending today is a major tool through which Congress affects behavior. Like spending and contracting, federal regulation through licensing takes the form of the administration of the government's resources. Licensing of broadcasting, for example, rests on the principle that the airwaves are public and not private property, and that private people may use that resource only on terms the government sets. Licensing schemes put the government in the position of an owner, able to give licenses that permit conduct that otherwise would violate the owner's rights. Congress therefore may give executive officials substantial discretion when it creates a licensing system. The important question is the extent of Congress's power to put the government in the position of an owner. Two well-known early examples of delegation to the executive, the Indian Commerce Act of 1790, and the regulation of steamboat safety, took the form of licensing. The historical evidence does not indicate that proponents of those systems justified delegation on the grounds suggested here. It does suggest that steamboat licensing was understood to be based on federal control of the public right of navigation of interstate waterways. The executive function of administering the government's resources is a distinct category of executive activity from the standpoint of constitutional structure, and the principles that apply to delegation in other contexts need not apply in that context.

--Dan Ernst

Hamburger on Delegation and the Vesting Clauses

Philip Hamburger, Columbia Law School, has posted Delegating or Divesting? on the website of the Northwestern University Law Review:

A gratifying feature of recent scholarship on administrative power is the resurgence of interest in the Founding. Even the defenders of administrative power hark back to the Constitution’s early history—most frequently to justify delegations of legislative power. But the past offers cold comfort for such delegation.

A case in point is Delegation at the Founding by Professors Julian Davis Mortenson and Nicholas Bagley. Not content to defend the Supreme Court’s current nondelegation doctrine, the article employs history to challenge the doctrine—arguing that the Constitution does not limit Congress’s delegation of legislative power. But the article’s most central historical claims are mistaken. For example, when quoting key eighteenth- century authors, the article makes errors of omission and commission— leaving out passages that contradict its position and misunderstanding the passages it recites. The initial goal of this Essay is therefore to explain the evidentiary mistakes in the attack on nondelegation.

This Essay’s broader aim, however, is conceptual: it points out two basic principles that have thus far received insufficient attention from both the defenders and opponents of administrative power.

First, the delegation problem can be understood more specifically as a question of vesting. To be sure, the nondelegation doctrine should be put aside—not on the grounds offered by Professors Mortenson and Bagley, but because the Constitution speaks instead in stronger terms about vesting. Thus, what are generically depicted as questions of delegation can be understood more specifically in terms of vesting and divesting. It thereby becomes apparent that Congress cannot vest in others, or divest itself of, any power that the Constitution vests in it.

Second, it is necessary to draw attention to a much-neglected idea of executive power. Recent scholarship has debated widely different conceptions of executive power—Mortenson’s view, now echoed by Bagley, being that executive power is an “empty vessel.” But all such scholarship tends to ignore another conception of executive power: that it involves the nation’s action, strength, or force. This understanding of executive power has foundations in eighteenth-century thought—as revealed even by the authors quoted by Mortenson and Bagley. Indeed, it is the conception asserted by Federalist Number 78 and evident in the Constitution itself.

A narrow historical inquiry thus points to broad conceptual lessons. Both delegation and executive power need to be reconsidered on the basis of the Constitution and its history.

–Dan Ernst.  H/t: Legal Theory Blog

Losano on War Prohibitions in Postwar Constitutions of Japan, Italy and Germany

The Max Planck Institute for European Legal History announces a new publication, Three constitutions against war: Japan, Italy, Germany, by Mario G. Losano.  It is Volume 14 of the Open Access series Global Perspectives on Legal History:

The three defeated powers from the Second World War incorporated provisions prohibiting wars of aggression into their post-war constitutions, which are still in force. The first part of the book covers the difficult years for Japan, Italy and Germany between the end of the war and the start of peace (with the Nuremberg and Tokyo Trials, denazification, reparations and the renewal of the school system), analysing the birth of the three constitutions between 1947-49.

The consequences of defeat were different in each of the three countries, and hence each followed its own path in formulating the prohibition on war. However, the division of the world into two hostile blocs required the three countries to rearm, thus launching a process that resulted in the watering down of the original prohibition on war. In fact, the three countries’ involvement in international bodies requires each of them to participate in new wars, which are now branded as “peacekeeping” missions. There have thus been increasingly frequent calls to modify or even revoke these pacifist articles, above all in Japan (due to its geopolitical position).

The second part looks at three extensive annexes of documents that detail a specific aspect of each of the three states’ constitutional pathways. Japanese pacifism is examined with reference to the Allied documents that laid the groundwork for the post-war constitution. This leads to a consideration of current political debates concerning the amendment of the pacifist article, under pressure from Russian and Chinese interests coupled with the threat of North Korean aggression. With regard to Italy, its interest in Japan through the figure of the soldier-poet Gabriele D’Annunzio and his “samurai brother” is considered, alongside the now-forgotten “Partisans for Peace” movement, drawing on two unpublished documents. Germany, on the other hand, was divided into two countries after the World War II, with West Germany adopting a “Basic Law”, which has now been extended to the reunified Germany. The book considers excerpts from the reports of the constituent assembly concerning the adoption of the pacifist article. The equivalent East German legislation is documented in more summary terms, as that legal system is now little more than a historical footnote.

This threefold historical-constitutional inquiry provides an account of the birth and development of the pacifist article imposed by the victorious Allies, thus allowing for a better understanding of current debates concerning its impending modification.

--Dan Ernst

Bowie on the Constitutional Right to Self-Government

 Nikolas Bowie, Harvard Law School, has posted The Constitutional Right of Local Self-Government, which is forthcoming in the Yale Law Journal:

The Assembly Clause is the ugly duckling of the First Amendment. Brooding in the shadow of the heralded Free Speech Clause and the venerated Religion Clauses, the Assembly Clause has been described even by its advocates as “forgotten,” a “historical footnote in American political theory and law.” The clause protects “the right of the people peaceably to assemble” — a phrase the Supreme Court has interpreted only once over the past fifty years despite issuing hundreds of opinions interpreting its First Amendment siblings. From the moment it was included in the proposed federal bill of rights, observers have questioned who would bother turning to the Assembly Clause for assistance given the First Amendment’s other protections of free expression.

This paper offers a surprising answer: local governments. After describing the historical context in which the “right to assemble” was first expressed, it argues that the right could be interpreted not as a narrow right of self-expression but rather as a broad right of self-government.

In the decade preceding the American Revolution, advocates of “the right to assemble” used the phrase in response to attempts by royal and parliamentary officials to subordinate their town meetings and colonial legislatures — or, in the language of the day, to subordinate their local and general “assemblies.” This subordination came in various forms: Parliament passed laws disempowering New York’s general assembly until it enacted certain legislation; Parliament censured and then banned town meetings in Massachusetts from debating international affairs; and governors up and down the continent dissolved, changed the location of, and otherwise coerced general and local assemblies into repealing legislation they regarded as seditious. In response, town officials and colonial representatives complained that all local governments have the inherent right to consult their constituents and seek a redress of their grievances, whether by enacting laws with their constituents’ consent or by petitioning other governments for their assistance. For example, in response to Parliament’s ban on town meetings in Massachusetts, a convention of town representatives resolved that “every people have an absolute right of meeting together to consult upon common grievances, and to petition, remonstrate, and use every legal method for their removal.” A representative of Pennsylvania’s general assembly proposed that the Continental Congress resolve “[t]hat for Redress of all Grievances, and for the amending, strengthening, and preserving of the Laws, Assemblies ought to be held in each of these Colonies frequently . . . . And, that every Dissolution of an Assembly within these Colonies . . . has been arbitrary, and oppressive.” Perhaps unsurprisingly, two of the first three states to adopt assembly clauses in their state constitutions were Pennsylvania in 1776 and Massachusetts in 1780.

The historical context of the assembly clause’s origins suggest that the clause has been interpreted far too narrowly. Once the clause is understood as protecting not only the informal expressions of conventions, marches, and gatherings but also the formal decisions of local governments, the state and federal assembly clauses look like an important, “forgotten" limit on one government’s power to subordinate another.

--Dan Ernst

Ramsey on Originalism and Birthright Citizenship

Michael D. Ramsey, University of San Diego School of Law, has posted Originalism and Birthright Citizenship, which is forthcoming in volume 109 of the Georgetown Law Journal:

The first sentence of the Fourteenth Amendment provides: “All persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” This language raises two substantial questions of scope. First, what does it mean to be born “in” the United States? Does that include birth in U.S. overseas possessions, territories, bases, or places under temporary U.S. occupation? Second, what does it mean to be born “subject to the jurisdiction” of the United States? Does that include persons born in the United States to parents who are only temporary visitors or parents not lawfully present in the United States?

The original meaning of the citizenship clause’s text indicates a broad scope for constitutional birthright citizenship as to both places and persons. At the time of enactment, places subject to the permanent U.S. sovereign authority were considered “in” the United States without regard to whether they were territorially contiguous or culturally integrated into the U.S. political system. In mid-nineteenth-century terminology persons born within U.S. territory were “subject to [its] jurisdiction” unless excluded legally by international rules of immunity or practically by military or political realities.

But these originalist solutions in turn raise a challenge for originalism as a theory of modern constitutional interpretation. There is little evidence that the Amendment’s enactors considered or could have foreseen the modern implications of either question. The United States had no material overseas possessions when the Amendment was drafted and ratified. Restrictive federal immigration laws did not materially take hold in the United States until the late nineteenth century. Application of the citizenship clause thus requires originalism to confront the role (or lack thereof) of intent in modern originalist theory. Modern originalists generally claim to be bound by the original meaning of the text rather than the original intent of the enactors. But in the case of the citizenship clause, the text’s resolution of key questions of its scope appears to be largely accidental. The citizenship clause presses originalism to explain why original meaning should be binding in modern law when it does not reflect the enactors’ policy choices. As the Article will discuss, explanations are available, but they may take originalism away from some of its apparent common ground.

--Dan Ernst

Parrillo on Delegated Rulemaking and Federal Taxation in the 1790s

Nicholas R. Parrillo, Yale Law School, has posted A Critical Assessment of the Originalist Case Against Administrative Regulatory Power: New Evidence from the Federal Tax on Private Real Estate in the 1790s, which is forthcoming in volume 121 of the Yale Law Journal (2021):

The Supreme Court is poised to toughen the nondelegation doctrine to strike down acts of Congress that give broad discretion to administrators, signaling a potential revolution in the separation of powers. A majority of the Justices have suggested they are open to the sweeping theory that all agency rulemaking is unconstitutional insofar as it coerces private parties and is not about foreign affairs. If adopted, this theory would invalidate most of the federal regulatory state. Jurists and scholars critical of rulemaking’s constitutionality base their claims on the original meaning of the Constitution. But these critics face a serious obstacle: early Congresses enacted several broad delegations of administrative rulemaking authority. The critics’ main response has been that these early statutes don’t count, because they fall into areas in which (say the critics) the original nondelegation doctrine did not apply, or applied only weakly: non-coercive legislation (e.g., giving benefits) or foreign-affairs legislation.

This Article finds that the originalist critics of

Oliver Wollcott, Jr. (wiki)

rulemaking are mistaken to say that no early congressional grant of rulemaking power was coercive and domestic. There is a major counter-example missed by the literature on nondelegation, indeed by all of legal scholarship, and not discussed more than briefly even by historians: the rulemaking power under the “direct tax” of 1798. In that legislation, Congress apportioned a federal tax quota to the people of each state, to be paid predominantly by owners of real estate in proportion to their properties’ respective values. Thousands of federal assessors assigned taxable values to literally every house and farm in every state of the Union, deciding what each was “worth in money”—a standard that the legislation stated but did not define. Because assessors in different parts of a state could differ greatly in how they did valuation, Congress established within each state a federal board of tax commissioners with power to divide the state into districts and to raise or lower the assessors’ valuations of all real estate in any district by any proportion “as shall appear to be just and equitable”—a phrase undefined in the statute and not a term of art. The federal boards’ power to revise valuations en masse in each intra-state tax district is identical to the fact pattern in the leading Supreme Court precedent defining rulemaking. Thus, each federal board in 1798 controlled, by rule, the distribution of the federal tax burden within the state it covered.

This Article is the first study of the federal boards’ mass revision power. It establishes that the mass revisions (a) were often aggressive, as when the federal board in Maryland raised the taxable value of all houses in Baltimore, the nation’s fourth-largest city, by 100 percent; (b) involved much discretion, given serious data limitations and the absence of any consensus method; (c) had a major political aspect, as the federal boards were inheriting the contentious land-tax politics that had previously raged within the state legislatures, pitting the typical state’s rich commercial coast against its poor inland farms; (d) were not subject to judicial review; and (e) were accepted as constitutional by the Federalist majority and Jeffersonian opposition in 1798 and also by the Jeffersonians when they later took over, indicating the boards’ power was consistent with original meaning, or, alternatively, with the Constitution’s liquidated meaning. Vesting administrators with discretionary power to make politically-charged rules domestically affecting private rights was not alien to the first generation of lawmakers who put the Constitution into practice.

More broadly, this Article is the first in-depth treatment of the 1798 direct tax’s administration. It shows that the tax, measured by personnel, was the largest federal administrative endeavor, outside the military, of the Constitution’s first two decades. It is remarkable that today’s passionate debate on whether the administrative regulatory state violates the framers’ Constitution has so far made no reckoning with this endeavor.

--Dan Ernst

Nelson on Vested Rights, Franchises, and Separation of Powers

Caleb Nelson, University of Virginia School of Law, has posted Vested Rights, "Franchises," and the Separation of Powers:

Modern courts and commentators have had trouble distinguishing the kinds of decisions that require “judicial” power from the adjudicative tasks that Congress can authorize administrative agencies to perform in the course of “executing” federal law. In a prior article ("Adjudication in the Political Branches," 107 Colum. L. Rev. 559 (2007)), I sought to explain traditional doctrines on that topic. For much of American history, Congress could authorize executive-branch agencies to administer and dispose of “public rights” belonging to the federal government or the people collectively, and Congress also could give agencies conclusive authority with respect to the administration of “privileges” that federal law gave private individuals or entities. But the political branches did not have similar sway over vested private “rights.” Only true courts could conclusively determine either that a private person had forfeited such rights or that the claimed rights had never vested in the person to begin with.

In my earlier article, I referred to the category of “franchises”—special powers or perquisites that the government gave private people who, in turn, did something of value for the public. Because no one had a vested right to be granted a franchise in the first place, I lumped franchises together with privileges. That taxonomy may have influenced the Supreme Court’s analysis of patents in Oil States Energy Services v. Greene’s Energy Group (2018). But the story is actually more complex. In the nineteenth century, once the government granted a franchise, private rights normally were thought to vest in the franchisee. That idea affected constitutional doctrine with respect to a wide array of legal interests, including not only patents but also corporate charters, the power to operate ferries and toll-roads, and more.

This Article explores the concept of franchises and their interaction with American-style separation of powers. In the process, it illuminates historical understandings of the public/private distinction, unearths new evidence about the constitutional status of patents, and sheds light on the traditional roles of each branch of government.

--Dan Ernst

Schwartz on the General Welfare Clause

Former LHB Guest Blogger David S. Schwartz, University of Wisconsin Law School, has posted The Strategic Ambiguity of the General Welfare Clause:

Article I, section 8, Clause 1 enumerates a power "to provide for the common defense and general welfare." Conventional constitutional doctrine interprets this language"called the General Welfare Clause in this article"as conferring "The Spending Power," a power to spend, but not to regulate, for any and all national purposes. Yet on its face, the General Welfare Clause seems to grant a general power to legislate on all matters of national concern. This article argues that the historical rejection of this "general welfare interpretation" in favor of the spending power interpretation is dictated neither by the text nor drafting history of the General Welfare Clause. The General Welfare Clause first appeared during the Philadelphia Constitutional Convention as a proposal, overlooked by scholars, in a second report presented by the Committee of Detail on August 22, 1787 (two weeks after submitting its well-known first draft of the Constitution). The Committee proposed to add an unambiguous legislative authorization to legislate for "the general interests and welfare of the United States" at the end of the Necessary and Proper Clause. Over the next two weeks, that language was ambiguated and relocated to its final placement, at the end of Article I, section 8, Clause 1. The final version of Clause 1 is best understood as a prominent example of "strategic ambiguity," a deliberate choice by the Framers to employ ambiguous language to accommodate differences of opinion without resolving them. Here, the Framers held competing views on three related issues: whether the enumeration of powers was exhaustive or illustrative; whether the taxing power should be limited to identified purposes; and whether the new national government should assume the Revolutionary War debts of the states. The ambiguity of the General Welfare Clause was intended to leave interpretive space for the general welfare interpretation, among others.

–Dan Ernst

Balkin on Lawyers, Historians and Constitutional Argument

Jack M. Balkin, Yale Law School, has posted Lawyers and Historians Argue about the Constitution:

Lawyers and historians often quarrel about how to use history in constitutional interpretation. Although originalists are often involved in these disputes today, the disagreements predate the rise of conservative originalism. Lawyers attempt to escape the criticism of historians through two standard stories that explain the differences between what lawyers and historians do.

According to the first story, lawyers employ specialized skills of legal exegesis that historians lack. According to the second, lawyers require a usable past that historians will not provide. These stories paint a false picture of how historical work is relevant to constitutional argument. And by emphasizing lawyers’ professional differences from historians, they disguise disagreements within the class of lawyers and legal advocates about how to use (and how not to use) history. When lawyers try to stiff-arm professional historians, often they are actually engaged in long-running disputes with other lawyers who disagree with their interpretive theories, their methods, and their conclusions.

To explain how lawyers and historians actually join issue, this article uses a familiar idea in constitutional theory—the modalities of constitutional argument. With respect to most of the modalities, historians are as well-equipped as lawyers. Indeed, many disputes between lawyers and historians do not concern the distinctive skills of lawyers at all, but rather controversial theories of interpretation that many lawyers do not accept either.

The more that lawyers try to assert the methodological autonomy of law from history, the more they will fail, ironically, because of law's distinctively adversarial culture. In order to win arguments, lawyers will search for ever new historical sources and approaches, and they will insist on bringing historians back in to undercut the claims of their opponents. Similarly, the claim that lawyers need a usable past fails because it makes too much of history unusable. Rather, the best way for lawyers to obtain a usable past is to recognize the many modalities of historical argument, and the many different ways to use history in legal argument.

--Dan Ernst