How to Avert a 2024 Election Disaster in 2023

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

April 24, 2022, in the Wall Street Journal

Pennsylvania lawmakers in 2019 decided to allow mail-in voting for the first time. They enacted a statute providing that “a completed mail-in ballot must be received in the office of the county board of elections no later than eight o’clock P.M. on the day of the primary or election.” In 2020 the state Democratic Party went to court, arguing that in light of the Covid pandemic, the deadline “results in an as-applied infringement” of the right to vote.

The Democrat-dominated Pennsylvania Supreme Court—its members are chosen in partisan elections—sided with the party and ordered a deadline extension, even as it acknowledged the statutory language was clear and unambiguous. The U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear an appeal, so the 2020 election was conducted under this and other new, judge-imposed rules.

Usually there’s no reason for the high court to review a state-court decision about state law. But election law is different. The U.S. Constitution mandates that state legislatures make the laws governing federal elections for Congress and the presidency. The Pennsylvania ruling was therefore unconstitutional. But the justices in Washington, perhaps chastened by the enduring political controversy over Bush v. Gore (2000), seem reluctant to take up such cases close to an election. Fortunately, they will soon have an opportunity to address the issue and to avert the possibility of an electoral meltdown in 2024.

Pennsylvania wasn’t alone in 2020. Faced with Republican control of many state legislatures, the Democrats and their allies took advantage of the pandemic to upend that year’s voting process. Longstanding wish-list items like near-universal voting by mail, ballot “harvesting,” drop boxes, extended deadlines, and loosened identification and signature-match requirements came to pass in much of the country, often by state court order.

The pandemic disruption may be behind us, but litigation over election rules continues. One reason is the success of the Democrats’ 2020 efforts, which their current cases treat as setting a new legal baseline. Returning to ordinary pre-pandemic procedures, they claim, amounts to unlawful “voter suppression.”

But there’s another reason for the state-court litigation explosion: redistricting after the 2020 Census. If state judges are willing to second-guess voting laws, why not the maps too? New maps are often litigated, but what’s different this time is the number of cases asking courts to toss out alleged partisan gerrymanders. The U.S. Supreme Court closed the door to such claims under the federal Constitution in Rucho v. Common Cause (2019), reasoning that there was no “clear, manageable, and politically neutral” standard for courts to apply. The same objection applies to suits brought under state law, but Rucho didn’t address that question.

So they proliferated. Many states where Democrats could pick up House seats with a different map have faced lawsuits based on open-ended state constitutional provisions, such as North Carolina’s proclaiming “all elections shall be free.” Several states’ top courts have tossed out legislature-enacted maps; the North Carolina justices even authorized a lower court to hire its own mapmakers. Republicans won state-court decisions against Democratic gerrymanders in Maryland and New York state.

None of this passes constitutional muster. State courts can interpret and apply laws governing federal elections and consider challenges to them under federal law, including the Constitution. But they have no authority to strike those laws down under state constitutions, let alone a freestanding power to contrive their own voting rules and congressional maps. The U.S. Constitution often assigns powers and duties to the “states” generally, but Article I’s Elections Clause directs that the “times, places and manner” of conducting congressional elections shall “be prescribed in each state by the legislature thereof,” unless overridden by Congress. The Electors Clause similarly vests the “manner” of choosing presidential electors in “the legislature.”

In McPherson v. Blacker (1892), the U.S. Supreme Court recognized that the Electors Clause “leaves it to the legislature exclusively to define the method” of choosing electors and that this power “cannot be taken from them or modified by their state constitutions.” In State Legislature v. Arizona Independent Redistricting Commission (2015), it held that “redistricting is a legislative function, to be performed in accordance with the State’s prescriptions for lawmaking.”

Still, it’s no wonder plaintiffs and state judges have felt emboldened to buck these limitations. The decision of a state supreme court can be appealed only to the U.S. Supreme Court, which has shied away from such cases. Around the same time the justices declined to hear the 2020 Pennsylvania case, they turned back a request to block North Carolina officials from altering legislatively enacted mail-in ballot deadlines. This year, they denied emergency requests to block judge-made maps in North Carolina and Pennsylvania from being used in November.

Election-law cases present unique timing considerations, given the potentially disruptive consequences of changing laws or maps with an election approaching. When courts make changes weeks before a filing deadline or Election Day, the justices’ ability to right the wrong is severely constrained. There’s rarely a serious basis to press the issue after votes have been cast. Those circumstances apply in most election-law cases.

But unlike state-court orders meddling with voting procedures, which typically apply to one election only, congressional maps remain in place until they’re altered, which usually isn’t for a decade. So there’s no timing issue to prevent the court from hearing a redistricting case.

Justices Samuel Alito, Clarence Thomas and Neil Gorsuch dissented from last month’s denial of the North Carolina stay application, arguing that the case was a good vehicle to consider the power of state courts to rework federal-election laws. Justice Brett Kavanaugh wrote separately to say that the court should take a case raising the issue, but this one came too close to the 2022 election. North Carolina’s House speaker has petitioned the court to take the case in its next term. If it does, a decision would likely come next summer, nearly a year and a half before the 2024 election.

The court’s failure to resolve this issue could spell catastrophe. If the 2024 presidential vote is close in decisive states, the result will be an onslaught of litigation combining all the worst features of the 2000 and 2020 election controversies. The court’s precedents in this area all point toward legislature supremacy but leave the door cracked enough for canny litigants, abetted by state judges, to shove it open and seize electoral advantage. To avoid a constitutional crisis, the justices need to articulate with clarity that state courts can’t rely on state constitutions or their own judicial power to alter either congressional redistricting maps or voting rules in federal elections.

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 an adjunct scholar at the Cato Institute. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/how-to-avert-a-2024-election-disaster-supreme-court-mail-in-ballot-drop-box-covid-election-rules-pennsylvania-new-york-north-carolina-11650820394

The Vaccine Mandate Case May Mark the End of the ‘Work-Around’ Era

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

Jan. 6, 2022, in the Wall Street Journal

Hours after President Biden’s Sept. 9 speech announcing a series of vaccine mandates for private-sector employees, his chief of staff, Ron Klain, retweeted an MSNBC anchor’s quip that wielding workplace-safety regulation to force vaccinations was “the ultimate work-around.” Congress has never enacted a law requiring American civilians to be vaccinated—assuming it even has the constitutional authority to do so, which is doubtful. The Supreme Court hears arguments Friday on two of the mandates, which are likely to meet the same fate as other recent attempts to circumvent Congress that the courts have rejected.

The Constitution vests the power to make laws in Congress and charges the president with the duty to execute them. That’s what many in Washington derisively call the “high school civics class” model of government. It’s slow, it’s cumbersome, it rarely approves measures that don’t enjoy widespread public support, and it forces compromise, moderation and tailoring of policies to address the circumstances of a vast and varied nation. The temptation of avoiding it via executive fiat is obvious.

All it seems to take is clever lawyering. The U.S. Code is littered with broadly worded laws, made all the more capacious by judicial deference to agencies’ interpretations of them. Rather than dutifully carry out Congress’s design, a president can set his own policy and then scour the statute books for language that can be contorted to authorize it. In a 2001 Harvard Law Review article, then- Prof. Elena Kagan called the practice “presidential administration.” President Obama put it more plainly when he faced congressional resistance to his agenda: “I’ve got a pen to take executive actions where Congress won’t.”

But it isn’t quite that easy. The Clean Power Plan, Mr. Obama’s signature climate policy, set rigid and unattainable emission limitations for fossil-fuel power plants to force them out of operation and transform the energy market. It relied on an adventuresome interpretation of an obscure provision of the Clean Air Act. In 2016 the Supreme Court blocked it from taking effect, and the Trump administration later repealed it. (We represented Oklahoma in the litigation.)

Mr. Obama’s immigration-reform measures—also taken in the face of congressional opposition—suffered a similar fate. Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals—which allows illegal aliens who were brought to the U.S. as children to work and avoid deportation—remains in legal limbo nearly a decade after it was established, following setbacks in the courts. Its counterpart for parents of U.S. citizens and permanent residents was enjoined before it took force.

Mr. Biden has had a taste of defeat himself, in a case that prefigures the mandate challenges. After Congress declined to extend the Trump administration’s nationwide eviction moratorium, the Biden administration acted on its own, relying on a 1944 statute authorizing the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to undertake clearly delineated disease-prevention measures like fumigation and pest extermination. The justices, however, found it unthinkable that Congress had intended to confer on CDC so “breathtaking” an authority: “We expect Congress to speak clearly when authorizing an agency to exercise powers of vast economic and political significance.”

In other words, loose language in old laws isn’t enough to support a presidential power grab. Yet that’s all the support the administration has been able to muster for the vaccination mandates. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration mandate forcibly enlists all companies with 100 or more employees to administer a vaccination-or-testing requirement that reaches nearly 85 million employees. It relies on a narrow provision addressing workplace-specific hazards that has never been used to require vaccination. The mandate for Medicare and Medicaid providers (covering 10.3 million workers) rests on general provisions authorizing regulations necessary to administer those programs—which, again, have never been used to require vaccinations. None of these statutes contain even a hint that Congress authorized any agency to administer broad-based vaccination mandates touching millions of Americans.

Although the mandates are flawed in other ways, their lack of clear congressional authorization is the most striking defect. Excessive judicial deference to agencies’ statutory interpretations is what enabled Mr. Obama’s “I’ve got a pen” agenda and its revival under Mr. Biden. The result has been to distort the entire federal lawmaking apparatus. Members of Congress now lobby the executive branch to make law through regulation rather than legislate themselves. Agencies enact major policies that have the durability of a presidential term before they’re reversed. And the president would sooner blame the courts for legal defeats than admit he lacks the power to do his allies’ bidding.

The courts share blame for this state of affairs, having lost sight of the basic separation-of-powers principles that should guide questions of agencies’ statutory authority. A decision rejecting the vaccination mandates because they weren’t clearly authorized by Congress would serve as a shot across the bow signaling that the work-around era is over.

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 an adjunct scholar at the Cato Institute. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/end-of-work-arounds-biden-executive-order-vaccine-mandate-covid-omicron-supreme-court-11641505106

This Debt-Ceiling Crisis Threatens Democracy as Well as Solvency

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

7 December 2021 in the Wall Street Journal

Congress is about to begin another debt-ceiling fight, and it threatens the Constitution as well as America’s solvency.

Over the past two years, Uncle Sam has borrowed and spent trillions of dollars to address Covid-19. Coronavirus spending added nearly $3 trillion to the national debt this year alone—and that doesn’t count the recently passed infrastructure bill and the pending Build Back Better Act. The unprecedented growth in federal outlays has contributed to inflation, which has reached a 30-year high, and caused annual budget deficits to soar.

The government is about to reach its statutory federal borrowing limit of $28.4 billion. If Congress doesn’t increase the limit, Washington will run out of money to meet its legal obligations. Republicans and Democrats are at loggerheads over how much to spend and whether to enact what the Democrats call “transformational” legislation—measures that would reshape the American economy and increase government’s role in nearly all aspects of life.

The threat to the Constitution comes from one of the options lawmakers are considering: suspending rather than raising the statutory debt ceiling, thereby authorizing the executive branch to borrow an unlimited amount of money for a limited time. Suspending the debt ceiling would undermine the structure of American democracy—particularly when government spending obligations are in flux, and the future direction of key policies is being fiercely contested.

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell has warned Democrats that if they insist on enacting major and costly policy changes on a partisan basis, they will have to increase the debt ceiling without votes from Republicans. That could be accomplished through budget reconciliation, the means by which the Democrats intend to pass the Build Back Better Act with a simple majority. But Democrats are wary of unilaterally raising the debt ceiling, which isn’t popular.

In October, facing a debt-ceiling stalemate and a possible government shutdown, Republicans reluctantly supplied the votes necessary to increase the debt ceiling by $480 billion. That was constitutionally proper, but it bought only a little time. The increase will be exhausted this month, and Mr. McConnell and Majority Leader Chuck Schumer have again started negotiations on the debt ceiling.

Congress usually raises the statutory debt ceiling to a new specific dollar amount, a core part of its constitutional power of the purse. Occasionally, however, Congress (with both parties in the majority) has “suspended” the debt ceiling. As we argued in these pages during the last debt-ceiling crisis, such delegations of power are constitutional only if, as Justice Elena Kagan put it in Gundy v. U.S. (2019), “Congress lays down by legislative act an intelligible principle to which the person or body authorized to exercise the delegated authority is directed to conform.”

The current unsettled budgetary environment makes the constitutional infirmity of suspending the debt ceiling acute. When suspensions were adopted in the past, there was at least a shared understanding between Congress and the executive about where the dollars were to go and how much spending there would be. Previous suspensions weren’t coupled with open attempts to transform the country’s economy and society—to upend the fundamental relationship of government to the governed.

Today’s spending plans are opaque and unpredictable. The estimated cost of Build Back Better alone ranges from $1.75 trillion to more than $5 trillion. That lack of clarity could also dramatically alter the terms upon which the Treasury can find willing buyers for new U.S. debt, greatly increasing debt-servicing costs. Suspending the debt ceiling in these circumstances would mean the executive branch is entirely unbound.

As another debt-ceiling cliff-hanger emerges, Democratic leaders appear committed to a suspension, which again would require Republican support. Giving bipartisan cover to another unconstitutional suspension would be disastrous. Decisions about the levels of spending, borrowing and taxation now under consideration require democratic accountability. Congress is almost evenly divided between the two major parties, a situation that counsels against transformative political and economic changes negotiated in back rooms.

If Democrats believe their programs are meritorious enough to burden the country with trillions of dollars in additional debt, they should accept the political risk of raising the debt ceiling without Republican votes. If Democrats are right, they’ll benefit and Republicans will pay the political price for intransigence. That’s how American democracy works, and why so many of the Constitution’s most fundamental provisions, such as Congress’s power of the purse, were adopted—to ensure accountability and the consent of the people.

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/debt-ceiling-crisis-threatens-democracy-budget-limit-build-back-better-mcconnell-schumer-11638718728

Biden’s Lawless Vaccine Mandate

OSHA’s job is to promote safe workplaces, not to dictate medical decisions to employees.

By David B. Rivkin Jr. and Robert Alt

Sept. 28, 2021, in the Wall Street Journal

President Biden told unvaccinated Americans this month: “We’ve been patient, but our patience is wearing thin. . . So, please, do the right thing.” He backed up this request with a series of new regulatory mandates, including one from the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, which directs businesses with 100 or more employees to make vaccination a condition of employment.

The Covid vaccine has been widely hailed as a modern scientific miracle. Yet as a means to increase nationwide vaccination rates, the OSHA mandate far exceeds the authority Congress granted the agency, and if the president can order private companies to dictate such terms of employment, his power to coerce citizens in the name of public health might as well be unlimited. This would both be profoundly unconstitutional and fundamentally transform the relationship between the government and the people.

The Occupational Safety and Health Act of 1970 authorizes OSHA to enact rules that are “reasonably necessary or appropriate to provide safe or healthful employment and places of employment.” But the Biden mandate is unreasonably and unnecessarily broad. As announced, it applies to all employees, even those who work at home, as millions have done during the pandemic. It’s simultaneously too narrow, failing to require vaccination for contractors, customers and other nonemployees who may be present at the work site.

It’s overbroad in another way: Previous Covid infection doesn’t excuse employees from the vaccine requirement. Natural immunity tends to be more robust and longer-lasting than vaccinated immunity, according to Marty Makary of the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine. Worse, Dr. Makary says, there is evidence that people who already have natural immunity are at heightened risk of vaccine side effects caused by an augmented inflammatory response. For these reasons, lawsuits have already been filed challenging employer vaccine mandates as applied to employees with natural immunity.

Another concern is that the administration’s interpretation of the OSHA statutory language presents a “delegation” problem. If Congress delegates discretion to an agency without a proper limiting principle, it violates the separation of powers. To avoid this constitutional problem, the courts will have to give the statute a more restrictive reading. Coming up with a meaningful judicially enforceable principle would not be easy.

Additional problems arise from the administration’s urgency. In imposing the vaccination requirement immediately, OSHA will bypass the ordinary notice-and-comment rule-making process and issue what’s known as an Emergency Temporary Standard. OSHA has used that legal authority only 10 times in 50 years. Courts have decided challenges to six of those standards, nixing five and upholding only one.

The OSH Act imposes stringent limits on emergency standards precisely so OSHA can’t easily circumvent the ordinary rule-making process. The government has to prove that “employees are exposed to grave danger from exposure to substances or agents determined to be toxic or physically harmful or from new hazards” and that using the emergency process is “necessary to protect employees from such danger.” Courts subject emergency standards to a what appellate courts call a “hard look” review, a more stringent standard than for ordinary economic regulations.

The White House justifies the mandate as a proportional response to the spread of Covid’s Delta variant, which is straining hospital capacity in some states. But the mandate is nationwide and indefinite, not tied to Covid rates. The administration’s vaccine rhetoric is therefore another reason to regard the standard as legally suspect. In addition to Mr. Biden’s remark about his patience wearing thin, White House chief of staff Ron Klain retweeted a journalist’s comment that “OSHA doing this vaxx mandate as an emergency safety rule is the ultimate work around for the Federal govt to require vaccinations.”

All this suggests that the administration’s statutory reliance on workplace safety is pretextual. OSHA was established to ensure workplace safety, not to act as a “work around” for achieving other political or policy objectives. In Department of Commerce v. New York (2019), the Supreme Court struck down an otherwise defensible census regulation because the Trump administration’s grounds for instituting it were pretextual.

Beyond these statutory issues lie constitutional concerns. Many commentators are under the impression that Jacobson v. Massachusetts (1905), in which the Supreme Court upheld a vaccine mandate, settles all such questions. But that case involved a state law and a local regulation, not any federal action—a crucial distinction. The states have plenary police power to regulate health and safety. Congress has only those limited powers enumerated in the Constitution. That wouldn’t include the authority to impose a $155 fine (today’s equivalent of the $5 at stake in Jacobson) on an individual who declines to be vaccinated, much less to prevent him from earning a livelihood.

Defenders of the Biden mandate surely will justify it as a delegation pursuant to Congress’s power to regulate interstate commerce. But the actual target of the rule is individual medical choices, not commercial ones. If a personal decision not to buy medical insurance can’t be characterized as “commerce”—as the Supreme Court held in NFIB v. Sebelius (2012), the ObamaCare case—how can the decision not to be vaccinated?

Further, if public-health benefits are sufficient to justify an OSHA vaccine mandate, what principle would limit the agency’s authority? Could it ban employees from smoking or consuming foods containing trans fats while working at home? The public-health profession has already characterized everything from gun ownership to social-media use as posing a serious public-health issue. Could OSHA legitimately police these, too, even away from the workplace?

Higher vaccination rates would be a public good. But our nation’s Founders understood that much mischief can be done under the theory of being “for your own good” and provided limits to government authorities accordingly. Even during a pandemic, the Biden administration would do well to respect those limits.

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. Mr. Alt is president and CEO of the Buckeye Institute, a think tank engaged in public-interest litigation and policy.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/biden-lawless-vaccine-mandate-constitution-occupational-safety-11632841737

Can Congress Tax Wealth by ‘Deeming’ It Income?

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

September 2, 2021, in the Wall Street Journal

Charles and Kathleen Moore have done well, but they certainly aren’t billionaires. Yet the couple’s constitutional challenge stands to slam shut the door on a federal wealth tax like the one Sen. Elizabeth Warren wants to enact.

The story is complicated, though less so than the tax code. In the 1990s Mr. Moore, a software engineer, worked at Microsoft on its Office applications and grew close to a fellow programmer, Ravi Agrawal. Mr. Agrawal dreamed of returning to his native India to do something for the small-scale farmers he knew growing up in the state of Chhattisgarh.

On a series of trips to India in the early 2000s, he saw an opportunity. Unlike the massive agricultural operations that feed the U.S., capital-poor farmers working a few acres each serve much of India. What struck Mr. Agrawal is that their tools were plainly inadequate, far less reliable and effective than what any American could buy for a few dollars at Home Depot. His idea was to close the gap by providing India’s poorest farmers with tools that would improve their livelihoods and lives, even in the face of the labor shortages in many rural areas as workers migrated to the cities.

Mr. Agrawal needed capital to get the business off the ground. He approached friends to invest in his new company, KisanKraft, and the Moores put up $40,000. It was a lot of money for them, but they believed in Mr. Agrawal and the mission. They knew they were unlikely to earn much of a financial return on their investment, because the plan was to reinvest any profits in the business and serve more of India’s rural poor.

That was the real return, and it proved massive. Mr. Agrawal had put his finger on an unmet need, and by 2017 KisanKraft had expanded to reach the entire country, with hundreds of employees, thousands of dealers and millions of customers. The Moores have never received a dime from their investment, yet it paid off beyond their greatest hope.

Then the tax bill came. As part of the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act of 2017, Congress reworked the way multinational corporations are taxed, limiting the amount that they had to pay on foreign income. Offsetting part of the cost was a new, one-time tax on earnings that certain foreign corporations had accumulated over the preceding 30 years but not distributed to their shareholders through dividends. The law deemed those earnings as 2017 income to the shareholders and taxed them on it. The Moores’ bill amounted to $15,000. They paid and are now suing for a refund, on grounds that the new tax is unconstitutional.

The Constitution grants Congress the “power to lay and collect taxes,” but with limits. Article I requires that any “direct tax”—one that falls directly on the payer rather than being passed on to someone else, such as the consumer—“be apportioned among the several states” according to population. The idea was that taxation, like representation, should be fairly apportioned so that no state or region could be singled out for disadvantage. Alexander Hamilton explained in Federalist No. 36 that tax apportionment was a key component of federalism, given that direct taxes could disrupt local economies in ways federal lawmakers couldn’t even imagine. By contrast, men of commerce would understand the effects of indirect taxes like tariffs or sales taxes, which the Constitution therefore didn’t subject to apportionment, only uniformity.

The Supreme Court held the first income tax unconstitutional as an unapportioned direct tax in 1895, and Congress eventually responded by proposing the 16th Amendment, ratified in 1913. It authorizes Congress to tax “incomes, from whatever source derived, without apportionment.”

So far as tax law goes, the Moores’ argument is straightforward. The new tax is a direct tax, and it isn’t on income—after all, they haven’t received any from KisanKraft. Instead, they’re being taxed on their property, the KisanKraft shares. The tax is therefore constitutionally invalid because it isn’t apportioned.

The government insists that the Moores are being taxed on income, because KisanKraft could theoretically distribute its accumulated earnings in the future. The courts, however, have consistently defined “income” to require, as the Supreme Court put it in Commissioner v. Glenshaw Glass (1955), “undeniable accessions to wealth, clearly realized, and over which the taxpayers have complete dominion.” As the Moores observe, they haven’t realized a dime in income. The government argues that the courts should abandon the realization requirement, giving the federal government carte blanche to tax “deemed” income without apportionment.

The stakes of the Moores’ case go well beyond their own tax liability. If they prevail, that would confirm that the Supreme Court’s precedents generally requiring apportionment and limiting the exception for taxes on “income” to its common understanding remain good law, clearly barring any kind of federal property tax, including a wealth tax—unless Congress apportions it, which there is no obvious way to do.

What makes the case an especially attractive vehicle to resolve this issue is the simplicity of their situation, a rarity in tax cases. There’s also the timing: If the courts confirm the 16th Amendment’s limited reach now, that would relieve them from having to do so in a politically explosive case directly challenging a wealth tax. The courts would do well to remind Congress at this opportune time that its taxing power is not without limits.

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 an adjunct scholar at the Cato Institute. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington. They represent the Moores in their refund action.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/congress-tax-wealth-courts-constitution-moore-agrawal-kisankraft-elizabeth-warren-11630529642

The Temptation of Judging for ‘Common Good’

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

July 23, 2021, in the Wall Street Journal

As liberals lick their wounds from the recent Supreme Court term, a small but noisy band on the right has launched a dissent against the conservative legal movement that produced the court’s majority. They want a new jurisprudence of “moral substance” that elevates conservative results over legalistic or procedural questions such as individual rights, limited government and separation of powers. Some advocates call this idea “common good originalism,” but it isn’t originalism. It’s no different from the raw-power judicial activism conservatives have railed against for decades as unaccountable, unwise and dangerous.

The “common good” pitch arrived nearly full-born in a 2020 essay by Harvard law professor Adrian Vermeule. A brilliant eccentric, Mr. Vermeule is best known for his advocacy of unchecked presidential and administrative supremacy and for the incorporation of Catholicism into civil law, which he calls integralism and critics call theocracy.

Mr. Vermeule is skeptical of law, restraints on government and the Enlightenment generally. He describes originalism as “an obstacle to the development of a robust, substantively conservative approach to constitutional law and interpretation.” To that end, he would give less emphasis to “particular written instruments” like the Constitution and more to “moral principles that conduce to the common good.” A web link to Thomas Aquinas ’ “Summa Theologica” suggests what he has in mind.

A handful of populist conservatives— Hadley Arkes, Josh Hammer, Matthew Peterson and Garrett Snedeker —took up the “common good” banner in an essay published in March. Frustrated that conservatives can’t seem to win the culture war no matter how many judges they appoint, they fault the conservative justices’ legal formalism as morally denuded and counterproductive to conservative ends. But they part with Mr. Vermeule by avoiding sectarianism in favor of vague references to “moral truth” and in branding their enterprise as a variant of originalism, one centered on the Constitution’s preamble and its reference to “the general welfare.”

As with liberal talk about the “living Constitution,” the high-minded rhetoric conceals an assertion of unbridled power. Liberals, the quartet justly complain, rack up victories because they are unabashed about enforcing their own moral purposes. That’s “a form of tyranny,” to which they urge conservatives to respond in kind by remaining cognizant of results and not splitting hairs (and votes) over arcane matters of legal interpretation.

That is a far cry from originalism, the interpretive philosophy Justice Antonin Scalia championed. Scalia looked to the plain meaning of the words in the Constitution at the time they were enacted. He also championed textualism, which applies the same approach to statutory interpretation. The common gooders, by contrast, would put a thumb on the scale (or, when necessary, a brick) to reach what they believe are conservative ends. They say that anything less is “morally neutered.”

But originalism and textualism defer to the morality wrought in the law by those who enacted it. The duty of a judge in a system of self-government is to exercise “neither Force nor Will, but merely judgment,” Alexander Hamilton wrote in Federalist No. 78. Or as Scalia put it in his dissent from Planned Parenthood v. Casey (1992), “Value judgments . . . should be voted on, not dictated.”

The Constitution doesn’t codify the common good, let alone appoint judges as its inquisitors. The Framers, as students of history, understood that mankind is fallible and that a government powerful enough to prescribe moral truth could achieve only tyranny. Rather than put their faith in the beneficence of statesmen, they established a structure that pits faction against faction to “secure the blessings of liberty,” as the preamble puts it. James Madison thought self-government “presupposes” public virtue, which can’t be dictated, only sown in the soil of freedom.

As in theory, so too in practice. Moral truth isn’t the output of any government program or court decision. It is cultivated by families, communities and civil society. It has long been the progressive tendency to seek a governmental mandate for the perfection of man and the conservative tendency to resist. The court decisions that social conservatives bemoan—from Roe v. Wade on down—can’t be criticized for failing to take a position on moral truth, only for imposing a progressive vision by judicial fiat. A jurisprudence of restraint, one that recognizes the proper limits of government, preserves the space necessary to practice moral values—ask the Little Sisters of the Poor or Catholic Social Services of Philadelphia.

There is no contradiction between the conservative legal movement’s pursuit of limited government and the common-gooders’ substantive ends. Genuine limits on government power protect the dignity and worth of the human person. The court’s history proves the point. When it has traded away constitutional command for popular notions of the common good, the result has been moral tragedy. Buck v. Bell (1927) approved compulsory sterilization of the “manifestly unfit” as a “benefit . . . to society.” Kelo v. New London (2005) regarded government’s taking homes from families for the benefit of a private corporation as “the achievement of a public good.” Yet the common-good quartet deride “the pursuit of limited government” as amoral, a hobbyhorse of the “individual liberty-obsessed.”

One might excuse these objections if a results-oriented jurisprudence promised some practical benefit, but it doesn’t. The success of the conservative legal movement is evident in the five Supreme Court justices, and scores of lower-court judges, who have described themselves as originalists. No jurist to date has claimed the “common good” mantle.

And originalism delivers results. In the past several months, self-consciously originalist decisions have fortified property rights, limited unaccountable bureaucracy, strengthened protections for freedom of association, recognized young adults’ Second Amendment rights, and expanded the freedom of religious practice. What is to be gained from abandoning originalism now, at the apex (at least to date) of its influence?

The critics’ main answer is to assail the court’s decision in Bostock v. Clayton County (2020), which interpreted the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to permit employment-discrimination claims based on sexual orientation or transgender status. Yet the Bostock dissenters, led by Justice Samuel Alito, faulted Justice Neil Gorsuch’s decision not for its embrace of textualism but for doing textualism badly. As Ed Whalen of the Ethics & Public Policy Center observed: “A bungling carpenter should not lead you to condemn the craft of carpentry.”

The high court in recent years has moved away from approaches that often sacrificed the principles of limited government to popular fashion or expert opinion. Fostering division among conservatives threatens that project at a time of special peril, as progressives march through the institutions of power. The chief obstacles to the left’s ambitions are the Constitution and a judiciary that withstands the pressure to read the enthusiasms of the elite into the law. If conservatives seeking easy victories succumb to the allure of facile judicial activism, those barriers will be breached.

For his part, Mr. Vermeule takes inspiration from an 1892 encyclical in which Pope Leo XIII “urged French Catholics to rally to the Third French Republic in order to transform it from within.” He imagines American Catholics will eventually co-opt “executive-type bureaucracies” to effect a “restoration of Christendom.” Such a ralliement seems far less likely in the U.S. than in France, but it failed there too.

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 an adjunct scholar at the Cato Institute. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/articles/supreme-court-conservative-liberal-originalist-vermeule-11627046671