By James Taranto and David B. Rivkin, Jr.

April 28, 2023 in the Wall Street Journal

Justice Samuel Alito was supposed to speak to law students at George Mason University in Arlington, Va., but when they showed up, he wasn’t there. “That Alito was speaking via closed circuit from a room at the Supreme Court seven miles away, rather than in person, was a sign these are not normal times,” the Washington Post reported. The Post didn’t explain what made the “times” abnormal.

It wasn’t a lingering fear of Covid-19. In a mid-April interview in his chambers, Justice Alito fills us in on the May 12, 2022, event: “Our police conferred with the George Mason Police and the Arlington Police and they said, ‘It’s not a good idea. He shouldn’t come here. . . . The security problems will be severe.’ So I ended up giving the speech by Zoom,” he says. “Still, there were so many protesters and they were so loud that you could hear them.”

By now a noisy mob of law students may sound like any other school day, but last May also was a tumultuous time for the court. The preceding week, someone had leaked a draft of Justice Alito’s opinion in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, a landmark abortion case that wouldn’t be decided until late June. The last question at the George Mason event, the Post reported, was about how the justices were getting along in the wake of that unprecedented breach of confidentiality. At the time, Justice Alito said little in response beyond “we’re doing our work.”

He now says that the leak “created an atmosphere of suspicion and distrust. We worked through it, and last year we got our work done. This year, I think, we’re trying to get back to normal operations as much as we can. . . . But it was damaging.” Chief Justice John Roberts directed the marshal of the Supreme Court to investigate the leak. In January she issued her findings: “Investigators have been unable to determine at this time, using a preponderance of the evidence standard, the identity of the person(s) who disclosed the draft majority opinion.”

Justice Alito says the marshal “did a good job with the resources that were available to her” and agrees that the evidence was insufficient for a public accusation. “I personally have a pretty good idea who is responsible, but that’s different from the level of proof that is needed to name somebody,” he says. He’s certain about the motive: “It was a part of an effort to prevent the Dobbs draft . . . from becoming the decision of the court. And that’s how it was used for those six weeks by people on the outside—as part of the campaign to try to intimidate the court.”

That campaign included unlawful assemblies outside justices’ homes, and that wasn’t the worst of it. “Those of us who were thought to be in the majority, thought to have approved my draft opinion, were really targets of assassination,” Justice Alito says. “It was rational for people to believe that they might be able to stop the decision in Dobbs by killing one of us.” On June 8, an armed man was arrested outside the home of Justice Brett Kavanaugh; the suspect was later charged with attempted assassination and has pleaded not guilty.

A few pundits on the left speculated that the leaker might have been a conservative attempting to lock in the five-justice majority and overturn the constitutional right to abortion. “That’s infuriating to me,” Justice Alito says of the theory. “Look, this made us targets of assassination. Would I do that to myself? Would the five of us have done that to ourselves? It’s quite implausible.”

He adds that “I don’t feel physically unsafe, because we now have a lot of protection.” He is “driven around in basically a tank, and I’m not really supposed to go anyplace by myself without the tank and my members of the police force.” Deputy U.S. marshals guard the justices’ homes 24/7. (The U.S. Marshals Service, a bureau of the Justice Department, is distinct from the marshal of the court, who reports to the justices and oversees the Supreme Court Police.)

A federal law called Section 1507 makes it a crime to picket or parade “in or near” a federal judge’s residence “with the intent of influencing” him “in the discharge of his duty.” During a hearing last month, Attorney General Merrick Garland told Sen. Mike Lee (R., Utah) that the marshals have “full authority to arrest” violators of Section 1507. But according to training slides obtained by Sen. Katie Britt (R., Ala.), deputies on the justices’ residential details are told to enforce the law only as “a last resort to prevent physical harm to the Justices and/or their families.”

Although the Supreme Court has held that the Constitution allows for reasonable restrictions on the time, place and manner of speech, the training slides indicate that the Justice Department believes it is unconstitutional to enforce Section 1507 absent “criminal threats and intimidation.” Regular protests outside the justices’ homes continue.

In some ways this is an old story. Each side of the abortion debate has featured a vigorous protest culture since at least the 1970s, when the court decided Roe v. Wade. The last time it reconsidered Roe, the three-justice plurality opinion in Planned Parenthood v. Casey (1992) asserted that it would “subvert the Court’s legitimacy” to overturn a precedent while “under fire,” meaning subjected to public criticism. The losing side has even resorted to violence before: Antiabortion extremists assassinated four abortion doctors between 1993 and 2009.

But as the court has grown more conservative in recent years, the left has stepped up the attacks on the court’s “legitimacy,” including character assassination of individual justices, with little objection from mainstream Democrats and plenty of help from the media.

Justice Alito says “this type of concerted attack on the court and on individual justices” is “new during my lifetime. . . . We are being hammered daily, and I think quite unfairly in a lot of instances. And nobody, practically nobody, is defending us. The idea has always been that judges are not supposed to respond to criticisms, but if the courts are being unfairly attacked, the organized bar will come to their defense.” Instead, “if anything, they’ve participated to some degree in these attacks.”

Judges are in a double bind: If they don’t respond, the attacks stand. If they do, they diminish the mystique on which judicial authority depends. Justice Alito demurs when we ask about “ethics” accusations against Justice Clarence Thomas from partisan media: “I’ll stay away from that.” But he does address a less-recent drama: “After Justice Kavanaugh was accused of being a rapist during his Senate confirmation hearings, he made an impassioned speech, made an impassioned scene, and he was criticized because it was supposedly not judicious, not the proper behavior for a judge to speak in those terms. I don’t know—if somebody calls you a rapist?”

Those who throw the mud then disparage the justices for being dirty. “We’re being bombarded with this,” Justice Alito says, “and then those who are attacking us say, ‘Look how unpopular they are. Look how low their approval rating has sunk.’ Well, yeah, what do you expect when you’re—day in and day out, ‘They’re illegitimate. They’re engaging in all sorts of unethical conduct. They’re doing this, they’re doing that’?”

It “undermines confidence in the government,” Justice Alito says. “It’s one thing to say the court is wrong; it’s another thing to say it’s an illegitimate institution. You could say the same thing about Congress and the president. . . . When you say that they’re illegitimate, any of the three branches of government, you’re really striking at something that’s essential to self-government.”

Some of the attacks are more technical, such as those involving the “shadow docket.” That term, coined by a law professor less than a decade ago, refers to applications for emergency orders and summary decisions, which the justices handle quickly and without full briefing. Such matters often provoke disagreement within the court, such as a 2022 Alabama congressional redistricting case in which Justice Elena Kagan, joined by two colleagues, complained of “the scanty review this Court gives matters on its shadow docket.”

Justice Alito finds these applications a nuisance. “They’re very disruptive. But what are we supposed to do? They are brought to us. The last administration brought a lot of them to us because a lot of its programs were enjoined. This administration is doing the same thing right now. The solicitor general has said that she’s likely to file an application here to stay the Fifth Circuit’s order in the case involving the—mifestiprone? However you pronounce the word.” It’s mifepristone, an abortion drug that a lower court had said the Food and Drug Administration erred in approving.

It’s April 13 when Justice Alito tells us: “I have to prepare for a sitting next week. The next two weeks we have arguments. I have to prepare for all of those cases. But when this comes in, I’m going to have to put all that aside and deal with it.” On April 14 the application reached Justice Alito in his capacity as circuit justice for the Fifth Circuit. He issued a temporary stay immediately and extended it on April 19. On April 21 the full court granted the stay, so that mifepristone will remain on the market pending further litigation.

Justice Alito filed a written dissent from the order granting the stay. He cited past complaints about the shadow docket from Justices Kagan, Sonia Sotomayor and Amy Coney Barrett. “I did not agree with these criticisms at the time,” he wrote, “but if they were warranted in the cases in which they were made, they are emphatically true here.”

The court’s attackers clearly seek to poison the well, but to what end? They sometimes proclaim unrealistic goals such as pressuring a disfavored justice to retire or removing him from office through impeachment. Sometimes they speak of packing or “expanding” the court—enacting legislation to create new seats that would immediately be filled by a Democratic president and Senate.

That might become possible if the Democrats have a good election in 2024, although Franklin D. Roosevelt failed in 1937 with enormous majorities, and Joe Biden, with narrow ones in 2021, punted the idea to a committee. It also would open the door to retaliatory packing by a future Republican president and Congress. Justice Alito finds the whole notion appalling: “To change the size of the court just because you want to change the result in cases—that would destroy it. You want to talk about our legitimacy? That would destroy the perception that we’re anything other than a political body.”

The threat to politicize the court can tempt justices to rule defensively—to take account of political ramifications and thereby politicize their own institution. The plurality explicitly did that in Casey, and some sitting justices have been accused of it in recent years. Justice Alito isn’t one of them.

“This is not a situation in which the right thing to do is different from the expedient thing to do, at least in the long term,” he says. The public “will have reason to question our legitimacy if they see that what we are doing is not following the Constitution and the laws, but we’ve got our finger to the wind”—he lofts a digit—“and we’re issuing decisions that nobody really believes represent our sincere thinking about the law, but are structured in a way to curry favor, avoid controversy or something like that.”

Justice Antonin Scalia said something similar in his dissent in Casey: “The notion that we would decide a case differently from the way we otherwise would have in order to show that we can stand firm against public disapproval is frightening.”

The careers of Justices Scalia and Alito, whose high-court service overlapped by slightly more than a decade, demonstrate the increasing aggressiveness of the left’s approach to the court. Scalia was confirmed 98-0 in 1986; Justice Alito’s 2006 vote was 58-42, with only four Democratic ayes. The former, the first Italian-American justice, was celebrated as an ethnic pioneer; the latter’s opponents belittled him with the bigoted portmanteau “Scalito,” which appears on a framed bumper sticker on his bookshelf, a confirmation keepsake.

How did Scalia escape the opprobrium to which his younger colleagues and successors have been subjected? In part by dissenting often. “Nobody can say for sure,” Justice Alito says, “but I’m willing to bet he would have been on the side that has been so heavily criticized in all the controversial cases. His vote would have been there, and he would have been subjected to the same kind of criticism.”

There’s little doubt that would have been true of Dobbs. “Some decisions,” Justice Alito says, “and I think that Roe and Casey fell in this category, are so egregiously wrong, so clearly wrong, that that’s a very strong factor in support of overruling them.” Scalia was even blunter in Casey: “We should get out of this area, where we have no right to be, and where we do neither ourselves nor the country any good by remaining.”

“When you’re in dissent,” Justice Alito observes, “well, his ideas were amusing and interesting. He spoke at a lot of law schools and he was honored at law schools, but he wasn’t a threat, because those views were not prevailing on issues that really hit home.”

Soon after Scalia’s death in 2016, one of those law schools even took his name—Antonin Scalia Law School at George Mason University. That’s where Justice Alito was unable to set foot six years later because “the security problems will be severe.”

Mr. Taranto is the Journal’s editorial features editor. Mr. Rivkin practices appellate and constitutional law in Washington. He served at the Justice Department and the White House Counsel’s Office in the Reagan and George H.W. Bush administrations.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/justice-samuel-alito-this-made-us-targets-of-assassination-dobbs-leak-abortion-court-74624ef9

By David B. Rivkin Jr. and Kristin A. Shapiro

April 17, 2023, in the Wall Street Journal

Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg’s indictment of Donald Trump could mean trouble down the road for Joe Biden. “I think our Republican AGs and DAs”—attorneys general and district attorneys—“should get creative,” Mike Davis, a Republican former Senate staffer, told the New York Post. Rep. James Comer told Fox that he’s heard from at least two prosecutors who “want to know if there are ways they can go after the Bidens now.”

Mr. Biden himself is currently safe under the accepted view that sitting presidents are immune from prosecution. But under the Trump precedent, what’s to stop an ambitious Republican prosecutor somewhere from bringing dubious state charges against him before a hostile jury after he leaves office? Likewise for his successors of either party. Every four to eight years, prosecutors would order up a presidential ham sandwich. Presidents might end up having to flee the country when they leave office.

But there’s a way Mr. Trump could stop the madness that would serve his own interests as well as his successors’. His lawyers should file a notice in the Southern District of New York to remove the case to federal court under a unique legal defense: immunity under the U.S. Constitution’s Supremacy Clause.

The clause provides that federal laws, including the Constitution, “shall be the supreme law of the land; and the judges in every state shall be bound thereby, any thing in the constitution or laws of any state to the contrary notwithstanding.” The Supreme Court stated in McCulloch v. Maryland (1819) that “it is of the very essence” of the federal government’s supremacy “to remove all obstacles to its action within its own sphere, and so to modify every power vested in subordinate governments, as to exempt its own operations from their own influence.” The justices invalidated Maryland’s tax on the Bank of the United States on grounds that the power to tax the federal government would make a state “capable of arresting all the measures of the government, and of prostrating it at the foot of the states.”

One pivotal aspect of the Supremacy Clause is its provision of immunity to federal officers from state criminal prosecution for actions relating to their federal duties. The seminal case is In re Neagle (1890), in which the justices held that California couldn’t criminally prosecute a federal marshal for killing a man in defense of Justice Stephen Field. If a federal officer “can be arrested and brought to trial in a state court for an alleged offense against the law of the state, yet warranted by the federal authority they possess,” the court found, “the operations of the general government may at any time be arrested at the will of one of its members.”

To be sure, the case against Mr. Trump involves conduct that wasn’t “warranted by the federal authority” he possessed. But there is a strong argument that Supremacy Clause immunity should extend to any state criminal prosecutions of federal officers undertaken because of their federal service, even if the charged conduct is unrelated to their federal duties. Permitting states to burden former federal officers on account of their federal services offends the Supremacy Clause’s core principles and makes it easy for aggressive state prosecutors to circumvent. As the Supreme Court warned in Neagle, “unfriendly” states could administer the law “in such a manner as to paralyze the operations of the government.” That threat exists anytime former or current federal officers are targeted for criminal prosecution because of their federal service. A president or other official can’t lead effectively under constant threat of retaliatory prosecution.

Mr. Trump’s foes like to say that no one is above the law; and Mr. Biden’s enemies would no doubt adopt the same slogan. But Supremacy Clause immunity wouldn’t vitiate that principle. It wouldn’t prevent federal prosecutions, and it would protect against state criminal prosecutions only when the prosecutor targeted the defendant for his federal service. Mr. Trump could still be prosecuted if he shot a passerby on Fifth Avenue.

A recognition of Supremacy Clause immunity in this context would involve an inquiry into a prosecutor’s state of mind, something courts are reluctant to undertake in most contexts. But not all—courts are regularly required to determine, for example, whether a prosecutor has engaged in racial discrimination in jury selection, or whether a state criminal prosecution is motivated by a desire to harass the defendant.

First Amendment case law also recognizes, in the context of protecting core constitutional rights, the impermissibility of disparate law-enforcement treatment. In Nieves v. Bartlett (2019), the high court held that probable cause isn’t sufficient to block a retaliatory-arrest claim “when a plaintiff presents objective evidence that he was arrested when otherwise similarly situated individuals not engaged in the same sort of protected speech had not been.”

An inquiry into whether a state criminal prosecution was undertaken because of the defendant’s federal service would involve judicially manageable questions such as whether a reasonable prosecutor would bring the charges and whether there are indicia of political retribution. Mr. Trump has a strong argument here. Does anyone believe he’d be prosecuted for anything having to do with Stormy Daniels if he hadn’t become president?

Federal officers, including former officers, have a statutory right to remove state civil or criminal cases against them “for or relating to any act under color of such office” to federal court (emphasis added). The U.S. Supreme Court has interpreted this language broadly, explaining in Willingham v. Morgan (1969) that “the test for removal should be broader, not narrower, than the test for official immunity” because the purpose of the statute “is to have the validity of the defense of official immunity tried in a federal court.”

In Jefferson County v. Acker (1999), the justices permitted removal of state actions against two federal judges seeking collection of a state occupational tax. The court explained that, even though the tax was imposed on the judges personally, it was effectively a tax on the performance of their federal duties, thereby providing the “essential nexus” between their official duties and the state prosecution.

Mr. Trump has 30 days after his arraignment—until May 4—to invoke the federal-officer removal statute. Because a novel and important constitutional issue would be at stake, the case could easily reach the Supreme Court, and it would be wise for the federal courts to delay any state trial until Mr. Trump’s immunity defense is resolved. With only 21 months remaining in his term, Mr. Biden might find himself quietly rooting for a decision in his predecessor’s favor.

Mr. Rivkin served at the Justice Department and the White House Counsel’s Office in the Reagan and George H.W. Bush administrations. Ms. Shapiro served as an attorney-adviser at the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel during the Trump and Biden administrations and is a senior fellow at the Independent Women’s Forum. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/is-braggs-case-against-trump-constitutional-supremacy-clause-indictment-federal-state-court-new-york-6adffbaa

By David B. Rivkin, Jr.

February 27, 2023, in the Wall Street Journal

Your editorial “Putin Buries Nuclear Arms Control” (Feb. 22) correctly discounts the significance of Vladimir Putin’s withdrawal from the New Start Treaty, explaining that nuclear deterrence is buttressed by U.S. nuclear force deployments and not by arms-control treaties, particularly given Moscow’s frequent noncompliance. Given America’s demanding extended deterrence commitments to defend numerous allies from conventional and nuclear attacks, however, Washington should take several additional deterrence-enhancing steps.

First, deterrence is bolstered by a nuclear-use policy, targeting enemy assets based on the enemy’s own values and weaknesses. This is why the U.S. moved from a “assured mutual destruction” policy, targeting Soviet cities in the 1960s, toward hitting the Soviets where it mattered to them the most. The final iteration of this strategy, adopted during Jimmy Carter’s presidency, targeted Communist Party headquarters and railways linking European Russia with Siberia. Given Mr. Putin’s highly personalized regime, the U.S. contingency plan should be to target Russian leaders and their close associates, as well as the key transportation facilities connecting Russia proper with restive Muslim and Asian regions.

Second, robust U.S. declaratory policy, describing how we view nuclear weapons, enhances deterrence. Unfortunately, visions of a nuke-free world have been overly embraced by numerous administrations of both parties. Given Russia’s embrace of its ability to prevail in a nuclear war, the U.S. must give up on nuclear abolitionism and refocus on a credible nuclear war-fighting strategy.

Today’s challenges require the U.S. to re-emphasize the first-use policy (already embraced by Russian military doctrine) and stress that a properly prosecuted nuclear war can be won. We need to respond robustly to Mr. Putin’s nuclear taunts, stating that any use of Russian nuclear weapons against Ukraine would so malignantly change the post-World War II global security environment that it would be met by a vigorous U.S. response.

Facilitating Russian defeat in Ukraine would also discourage Beijing’s attack on Taiwan. China is rapidly building its nuclear forces but won’t approach nuclear parity with the U.S. until 2030 at the earliest (it’s during these years that U.S. conventional force vulnerabilities in any conflict with China loom largest.) Discounting Mr. Putin’s nuclear threats, abandoning self-deterrence and returning the U.S. to a muscular nuclear policy would bolster deterrence of Beijing, too.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/new-us-nuclear-weapons-deterrence-russia-china-643649ab

By David B. Rivkin, Jr., and Lee A. Casey

20 February 2023 in the Wall Street Journal

Headlines last week claimed that the Congressional Budget Office had warned the U.S. “could default on its debt” as early as July if Congress didn’t raise the statutory debt limit. What the CBO director actually said was that “the government would have to delay making payments for some activities, default on its debt obligations, or both.” In reality, the U.S. can’t default on its debt.

Section 4 of the 14th Amendment is unequivocal on that point: “The validity of the public debt of the United States, authorized by law, . . . shall not be questioned.” This provision was adopted to ensure that the federal debts incurred to fight the Civil War couldn’t be dishonored by a Congress that included members from the former Confederate states.

The Public Debt Clause isn’t limited to Civil War debts. As the Supreme Court held in Perry v. U.S. (1935), it covers all sovereign federal debt, past, present and future. The case resulted from Congress’s decision during the Great Depression to begin paying federal bonds in currency, including those that promised payment in gold. Bondholders brought an action in the Court of Claims demanding payment in currency equal to the current gold value of the notes. The justices concluded that Congress had violated the Public Debt Clause and that its reference to “the validity of the public debt” was broad enough that it “embraces whatever concerns the integrity of the public obligations.”

That means the federal government can’t legally default. The Constitution commands that creditors be paid. If they aren’t, they can sue for relief, and the government will lose and pay up.

Those who warn of default confuse debt payments with other spending obligations. “A failure on the part of the United States to meet any obligation, whether it’s to debt holders, to members of our military or to Social Security recipients, is effectively a default,” Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen said in January.

That’s nonsense. Authorized and even appropriated spending isn’t “the public debt.” For constitutional purposes, promised benefits from Social Security, Medicare and other entitlements aren’t even property, as the Supreme Court held in Flemming v. Nestor (1960), and Congress has as much authority to reduce them as to increase them. When lawmakers were drafting the 14th Amendment, they revised Section 4’s language to replace the term “obligations” with “debts.” If the Treasury ran out of money, the constitutional obligation to pay bondholders would trump all statutory obligations to spend.

Ms. Yellen also said that “Treasury’s systems have all been built to pay all of our bills when they’re due and on time, and not to prioritize one form of spending over another.” But as the Journal has reported, department officials conceded in 2011 that the government’s fiscal machinery certainly could prioritize payments to bondholders, and the Federal Reserve prepared for such a contingency. There’s no question enough money would be available: The government collects roughly $450 billion a month in tax revenue, more than enough to cover the $55 billion or so in monthly debt service.

These basic facts should inform decisions by credit-rating agencies in establishing the U.S. government’s creditworthiness. Those agencies have traditionally acted favorably when heavily indebted countries have significantly cut public spending rather than default on their debt.

Like Ulysses binding himself to the mast, the Public Debt Clause ties the government’s hands in a way that ultimately serves its interests. Around the world, public defaults are ubiquitous. Since 1960, 147 governments, including some Western democracies, have defaulted—many repeatedly—on their sovereign debt. The U.S. isn’t among them, in large part because of the Constitution’s restriction, buttressed by the rule of law. That’s why the nation is able to borrow so easily, and so much, at such favorable rates. If the Biden administration and other default doomsayers convince the world that U.S. debt isn’t secure, they will drive up the cost of borrowing—at least until the courts set things straight.

Rather than issue baseless warnings of default, the Treasury should tout the Public Debt Clause as a reason why investments in U.S. bonds are rock solid and entail no meaningful risk of default. That could help secure more-favorable credit terms for Treasury instruments than those paid by other Western countries. The strategy is well worth pursuing, given the sharp increase in rates at which Treasury is currently selling its benchmark 10-year notes—from 2% to 3.6% over a single year—resulting in a major escalation in U.S. debt-servicing obligations.

The real risk we face is out-of-control federal spending, not default. But spending cuts and tax hikes are politically unpopular. That leaves borrowing, which explains the recurring tumult over the debt ceiling. How the U.S. covers its spending tab is a debate worth having, as is whether that tab should be so high. Fear-mongering about default is a way to avoid these debates and avoid confronting the hard choices we face as a result of decades’ worth of overspending.

Those who vote against raising the debt ceiling will take a political risk, perhaps a substantial one, as payments many Americans reasonably anticipate may not arrive. Whether to proceed with this strategy if the Biden administration persists in refusing to accept any deal on future federal spending is a difficult question. But it should be debated honestly, unclouded by specious warnings of default.

Messrs. Rivkin and Casey practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington. They served at the Justice Department and the White House Counsel’s Office in the Reagan and George H.W. Bush administrations.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/default-on-u-s-debt-is-impossible-deficit-treasury-cbo-janet-yellen-supreme-court-constitution-public-debt-clause-federal-reserve-328dafe5

By David B. Rivkin, Jr., and Andrew M. Grossman

December 27, 2022, in the Wall Street Journal

It’s the classic threat of B-movie mobsters: Nice business you got there, it’d be a shame if something happened to it. Government shouldn’t operate like that, but it too often does, sometimes to evade the Constitution’s limits on its power. A recent decision by the Second U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the practice and provided a road map for officials to circumvent the First Amendment’s protection for freedom of speech.

Maria Vullo led the New York State Department of Financial Services, which has broad power to regulate almost every major financial player in the U.S. After the February 2018 school shooting in Parkland, Fla., Ms. Vullo and then-Gov. Andrew Cuomo issued a press release stating that the department would “urge” the insurers, banks and companies it regulates “to review any relationships they may have with the National Rifle Association” for “reputational risk.”

The goal was to punish the NRA for its gun-rights advocacy. The press release quoted Ms. Vullo as saying that corporations need to “lead the way” on “positive social change . . . to minimize the chance” of future shootings. “DFS urges all insurance companies and banks doing business in New York to join the companies that have already discontinued their arrangements with the NRA.”

Ms. Vullo followed through with official guidance to regulated entities. Citing “the social backlash against the National Rifle Association” and society’s “responsibility to act,” the guidance directed insurers and banks to evaluate the “reputational risks” of “dealings with the NRA or similar gun promotion organizations.”

Behind the scenes, Ms. Vullo was pressuring senior executives of the insurance syndicate Lloyd’s of London. In 2017 she had launched an investigation of insurers that formed partnerships with the NRA to sell “affinity” insurance, including gun-owner policies. The basis was twofold: technical violations of disclosure rules and alleged violation of state law by covering losses, including criminal-defense costs, even when policyholders were found to have illegally discharged their weapons.

The NRA alleges in a lawsuit that, in a meeting with Lloyd’s, Ms. Vullo acknowledged that these problems were widespread in the marketplace but made clear that her focus was the NRA policies. The key to minimizing liability, she emphasized, was joining the department’s efforts to combat the availability of firearms by weakening the NRA.

Lloyd’s got the message. Despite its reputation for insuring even the most controversial risks, it understood that its regulator considered working with one of the nation’s most broadly supported advocacy organizations to be off-limits. Lloyd’s publicly announced that it was terminating all business with the NRA. It signed a consent decree with DFS permanently barring it from participating in any insurance program with the NRA—rather than the usual remedy of bringing policies into compliance and possibly paying a fine. The decree didn’t cover the non-NRA policies that ran afoul of the same New York laws. The NRA says its corporate insurer refused to renew its policy because it feared similar reprisals after seeing DFS target Lloyd’s and another NRA-affinity insurer.

In Bantam Books v. Sullivan (1963), officials from the Rhode Island Commission to Encourage Morality in Youth sent letters to booksellers informing them that it had identified certain books and magazines as “objectionable” and noting its power to recommend obscenity prosecutions. The U.S. Supreme Court held that this “informal censorship” violated the First Amendment. Although the government didn’t seize or ban any books, it “deliberately set about to achieve the suppression” of protected speech.

So did Ms. Vullo. As the Second Circuit observed, she “plainly favored gun control over gun promotion” and therefore “sought to convince DFS-regulated entitles to sever business relationships with gun promotion groups.” Yet the judges concluded that was reasonable.

Their logic is circular: The NRA’s advocacy led to a “backlash” that could “affect the New York financial markets,” given that “a business’s response to social issues can directly affect its financial stability in this age of enhanced corporate social responsibility.” So Ms. Vullo’s entreaties to drop the NRA weren’t threats, but actions “to protect DFS-regulated entities and New York residents from financial harm and to preserve stability in the state’s financial system.”

It’s fanciful to suggest that selling insurance to, or in partnership with, the NRA poses a threat to New York’s financial system. More important, the Constitution’s protections don’t amount to much if government officials can censor disfavored opinions simply by labeling them “reputational risk.” And even if such risk is real, empowering government officials to engage in censorship on that basis creates a heckler’s veto over controversial speech: Gin up enough online outrage or disagreement by officials or purported experts, and you can justify censoring anything or anyone.

The Biden White House successfully pressed Twitter to shut down accounts, including journalist Alex Berenson’s , for bucking the expert consensus on Covid vaccines. The FBI and Twitter cooperated in 2020 to censor humorous tweets about the election and voting. The Cato Institute’s Will Duffield has identified 62 recent instances of government officials making specific demands to censor speech on social-media platforms. This kind of “jawboning” by government officials usually occurs in the shadows and rarely comes to light. It can be difficult to identify when official encouragement crosses the line into coercion.

The Supreme Court will have to take up the question sooner or later, and an NRA appeal would present a strong opportunity to do so. The DFS has broad discretionary power to regulate industries on which almost everybody depends. That makes it all the more crucial to ensure that it respects the Constitution.

Mr. Rivkin served at the Justice Department and the White House Counsel’s Office in the Reagan and George H.W. Bush administrations. Mr. Grossman is a senior legal fellow at the Buckeye Institute. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/the-nra-vs-the-censorship-mob-national-rifle-association-weapons-shootings-rules-defense-banks-insurers-11672176818

By David B. Rivkin, Jr., and Andrew M. Grossman

7 December 2022 in the Wall Street Journal

The Supreme Court considers on Wednesday whether the Constitution’s Elections Clause means what it says—that “the times, places and manner of holding elections for senators and representatives, shall be prescribed in each state by the legislature thereof.” That question arises from a litigation blitz seeking to override state election laws. Unless the justices get the answer right, elections for Congress and president could become a free-for-all with judges being the ultimate deciders.

At issue in Moore v. Harper is North Carolina’s congressional map. In 2021 the state legislature—the General Assembly—enacted a redistricting plan. Lawmakers expressly rejected partisan considerations in drawing district lines. Nonetheless, groups aligned with the Democratic Party sued, arguing that the map was a partisan gerrymander and violated the state constitution.

The precise nature of that violation is an interesting question. Unlike some state constitutions, North Carolina’s doesn’t forbid partisan redistricting. Lacking any textual hook for their claim, the challengers cited a potpourri of state constitutional clauses, including ones guaranteeing “free elections,” equal protection and even free speech. The North Carolina Supreme Court ruled in their favor, despite having rejected a similar claim a few years earlier, and ultimately a court-imposed congressional map was used for this year’s elections.

The U.S. Supreme Court’s task in Moore is straightforward. The Elections Clause directs “the legislature” to regulate congressional elections, which includes drawing district maps. State courts aren’t part of the legislative process, and thus the North Carolina Supreme Court was obligated to uphold the General Assembly’s map.

It really is that simple. Many other constitutional clauses refer to a “state,” but the Elections Clause singles out a state “legislature.” In so doing, it conveys a unique legislative power to make a type of federal law. Like all federal laws, these can’t be trumped by state constitutional provisions. State courts have the power to interpret election regulations, but they can’t override the legislature’s handiwork unless it conflicts with the U.S. Constitution or a statute enacted by Congress.

The historical record of litigation involving federal election laws is straightforward, too. Of the bushels of briefs supporting the Moore plaintiffs, not one identifies a state-court decision striking down a law governing federal elections until 70 years after the founding. When disputes arose during the Civil War over whether state legislatures could permit absent Union soldiers to vote by mail despite in-person voting requirements in state constitutions, state supreme courts split on the question. The U.S. Supreme Court never heard an appeal in these cases.

Not until this century did state judges presume to override federal-election legislation when it violated their notions of how best to conduct “free,” “fair” or “equal” elections, in litigation brought mostly by Democrats. The Pennsylvania Supreme Court, for instance, in 2018 imposed its own congressional redistricting plan (drawn in secret) and held in 2020 that a Tuesday statutory ballot-receipt deadline could become a Friday deadline, viewing Friday as more “free” and “equal” than Tuesday.

The Moore plaintiffs cite Supreme Court precedents that read “the legislature” to mean “the state’s lawmaking process.” In Smiley v. Holm (1932), the justices held that a congressional redistricting plan didn’t take legal effect without the governor’s signature because the governor had “a part in the making of state laws” through the veto power. In Arizona State Legislature v. Arizona Independent Redistricting Commission (2015), the court approved of an independent redistricting commission adopted in a ballot initiative by the people as citizen-legislators.

Yet neither of these cases read the word “legislature” as a mere synonym for “state.” While the former term may be broader than state houses and senates, it is narrow enough to encompass only those people and institutions involved in making laws. The job of North Carolina’s courts is to interpret the laws; they have no role in the legislative process.

The Moore plaintiffs also argue that Election Clause legislation is subject to state-court review because Congress is subject to federal judicial review when it acts under the Elections Clause to “make or alter” congressional election laws. That’s a faulty analogy. Acts of Congress are always subject to review for compliance with the U.S. Constitution, but never under state constitutions. The U.S. Constitution’s Supremacy Clause privileges the Constitution over federal statutes and federal statutes over all state laws, including state constitutions. Importantly, that clause defines “the laws of the United States” as those “made in pursuance” of “this Constitution,” which includes the Elections Clause and its delegation to “the Legislature” of each state. By logical consequence, the U.S. Constitution constrains state legislatures exercising their authority under the Elections Clause, but state constitutions don’t.

The Moore plaintiffs also make political arguments. They contend that a plain-text reading of the Elections Clause would be “damaging for American democracy.” Legal commentators pillory state legislatures as partisan bodies and lionize state courts as guardians of democracy—even in states like North Carolina and Pennsylvania, where judges are selected in partisan elections. They also insist that it would jeopardize minority voting rights, which are protected under federal law that won’t be affected by Moore.

The core of American democracy is rule by the people through their elected representatives—not by judges, whether elected or appointed. Legislation can be good, and court decisions can be bad, as easily as the reverse. No one would contend that legislation permitting deployed Union soldiers to vote in federal elections was harmful to democracy, yet fidelity to the Elections Clause made that possible in some states while a theory of state-court supremacy disfranchised them in others. Those who loudly profess the need to “save” democracy are dead-set against it when it stands in the way of their partisan objectives.

Mr. Rivkin served at the Justice Department and the White House Counsel’s Office in the Reagan and George H.W. Bush administrations. Mr. Grossman is a senior legal fellow at the Buckeye Institute. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington. They filed an amicus brief on behalf of state legislators supporting Moore challengers.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/judges-arent-part-of-the-legislature-supreme-court-gerrymandering-redistricting-partisan-map-sue-constitution-11670351278