Balkinization  

Thursday, July 31, 2008

This is Really Quite Amazing

Marty Lederman

In a 93-page opinion in the Miers/Bolten contempt case, Judge Bates not only rejects all of the various Administration arguments against justiciability, but goes so far as to reach the merits and hold that there is no basis for the DOJ argument that close presidential advisers are absolutely immune from compelled congressional testimony:
There are powerful reasons supporting the rejection of absolute immunity as asserted by the Executive here. If the Court held otherwise, the presumptive presidential privilege could be transformed into an absolute privilege and Congress’s legitimate interest in inquiry could be easily thwarted. . . . [I]f the Executive’s absolute immunity argument were to prevail, Congress could be left with no recourse to obtain information that is plainly not subject to any colorable claim of executive privilege. For instance, surely at least some of the questions that the Committee intends to ask Ms. Miers would not elicit a response subject to an assertion of privilege; so, too, for responsive documents, many of which may even have been produced already. The Executive’s proposed absolute immunity would thus deprive Congress of even non-privileged information. That is an unacceptable result.

A landmark decision, I think. More, perhaps, after I have had time to consider it more carefully.

UPDATE: It is an extraordinarily thorough, scholarly and thoughtful opinion -- surely one of the best opinions ever written on questions relating to executive/congressional disputes. It is also, IMHO, correct on the merits, of virtually all of the many legal questions it discusses. It is important not only for its holding on the immunity question, but also for its holding and analysis on congressional standing, and for its unequivocal rejection (pp. 39-41) of one of the Administration's principal arguments with respect to all of these privilege disputes in the U.S. Attorney matter -- the notion that because the subject matter of the investigations is presidential removal of the U.S. Attorneys, Congress has no legitimate oversight function at all. The court quite correctly rejects this view: Having earlier pointedly suggested that the undisputed facts "fueled speculations that improper criteria had motivated the dismissals" [see here, Judge Bates explained:

Simply put, the Executive characterizes the Committee’s investigation far too narrowly. It is not merely an investigation into the Executive’s use of his removal power but rather a broader inquiry into whether improper partisan considerations have influenced prosecutorial discretion. Similarly, in Nixon v. Adm’r Gen. Services, the Supreme Court indicated that Congress’s “need to understand how . . . political processes had in fact operated in order to gauge the necessity for remedial legislation” was a legitimate topic for investigation. 433 U.S. at 453. Once again, the same can be said of the Committee’s investigation. It defies both reason and precedent to say that the Committee, which is charged with oversight of DOJ generally, cannot permissibly employ its investigative resources on this subject. Indeed, given its “unique ability to address improper partisan influence in the prosecutorial process . . . [n]o other institution will fill the vacuum if Congress is unable to investigate and respond to this evil.” [quoting Brief of Former United States Attorneys at 10-11]
The court does not, of course, reach the question of whether any particular communications in the White House were privileged and, if so, whether the House's needs outweigh the privilege. (Those questions were not teed up in the motions for partial summary judgment.) But in his analysis, Judge Bates does reach at least three subsidiary questions that will have a substantial bearing on the privilege disputes (and remember that it will be Judge Bates himself who would adjudicate those disputes):

1. First, as noted above, he unequivocally rejects the centerpiece of the Administration's privilege argument: the notion that the House has no legitimate interest in inquiring with respect to why the U.S. Attorneys were fired. At pages 39-41, Judge Bates explains why Congress does have a legitimate and important interest in getting to the bottom of what happened to the U.S. Attorneys, and why, and then at page 89 he adds, for good measure, that "[n]otwithstanding its best efforts, the Committee has been unable to discover the underlying causes of the forced terminations of the U.S. Attorneys. The Committee has legitimate reasons to believe that Ms. Miers's testimony can remedy that deficiency. There is no evidence that the Committee is merely seeking to harass Ms. Miers by calling her to testify."

2. Second, the court recognizes that the principal argument in favor of the Administration's absolute immunity claim was the theory that communications of close presidential advisers are categorically privileged, at least as against congressional inquiry: Why should such an advisor have to appear, reasoned DOJ, if she could legitimately assert privilege as to every question involving what she did and her communications with others? Judge Bates rejects this notion, too, at pages 83-86: "At bottom," Judge Bates explains, "the Executive's interest in 'autonomy' rests upon a discretited notion of executive power and privilege." Even the President himself "is entitled only to a presumptive privilege," and therefore "his close advisers cannot hold the superior card of absolute immunity. . . . Presidential autonomy, such as it is, cannot mean that the Executive's actions are totally insulated from scrutiny by Congress. That would eviscerate Congress's historical oversight function."

3. Third, the court does not resolve the factual dispute about whether and to what extent President Bush himself was involved in the decisions to fire the U.S. Attorneys. The court does pointedly note, however (note 37), that to the extent the President was not involved, any privilege clams will be on decidedly weaker ground.

* * * *

I should emphasize something here: This is not the first Administration to have articulated the view that certain presidential advisers are immune from congressional process: It has been a mantra in Administrations of both parties for some time, which often have permitted close presidential advisors to testify before Congress while at the same time claiming to "preserve" a right to object to compulsory process. And in 1999, Attorney General Reno memorialized such an argument in Part II of this formal opinion; and that opinion became the basis for an an even broader assertion of such immunity in an opinion by Steven Bradbury last year. Judge Bates today concludes -- quite understandably, in my view -- that he is "not at all persuaded by the Reno and Bradbury opinions," because unlike other controversial OLC opinions on privilege authored by Ted Olson and Chuck Cooper, "which are exhaustive efforts of sophisticated legal reasoning, bolstered by extensive citation to judicial authority, the Reno and Bradbury OLC opinions are for the most part conclusory and recursive."

So the argument itself was not new. But the Bush Administration pushed the argument much more aggressively than any Administration before it: It claimed for the first time that such immunity extends even to former officials, because everything they did was absolutely privileged; it played hardball with Congress on the question where other Administrations have acceded to such testimony; and for the first time ever, the Executive had the gumption to ask a court to ratify its immunity claims.

Quite frankly, it would not have been difficult for Judge Bates to find ways to avoid reaching the merits question -- either by adopting one of the Executive's standing, cause-of-action or prudential arguments, or by simply delaying his decision until January, when the posture of the dispute might well be changed by the new Congress and President. He did not do so, evidently in part because he so strongly believed that the acceptance of the immunity argument would be "an unacceptable result," and would so fundamentally and improperly shift the balance of powers between the political branches.

It bears mentioning that the judge who so ruled is a Republican jurist who worked on the Starr Whitewater team, and who was appointed to the bench by the sitting President Bush. And he ruled with the Bush Administration's claims to executive secrecy in the Cheney Task Force case (see note 38 of today's opinion, distinguishing it) -- he is, in other words, very solicitous of the legitimate needs of executive confidentiality. Which makes today's decision all the more remarkable. Judge Bates was not only taken aback by the Administration's theory of immunity; it is also fair to assume, as his opinion suggests, that he (a former prosecutor) was alarmed by the U.S. Attorney dismissals themselves.

When the history of the Bush Administration's executive aggrandizement campaign is finally written, a very large and important part of that story -- a central theme in Jane Mayer's new book, for instance -- is just how many very strongly conservative Republicans resisted the Cheney/Addington/Gonzales/Rove agenda. That includes not only officials within the Executive branch who are very strong defenders of executive prerogatives, such as Jim Comey, Jack Goldsmith, Pat Philbin, Peter Keisler, numerous JAG lawyers, including Alberto Mora and Tom Romig, various Republican U.S. Attorneys who resisted Karl Rove (and paid the price), Will Taft, John Bellinger, etc., but also Republican jurists such as Sandra Day O'Connor (Hamdi and Rasul), Anthony Kennedy, David Souter and John Paul Stevens (those, plus Hamdan and Boumediene), Antonin Scalia, at least as to U.S. citizens (Hamdi), Michael Luttig (Padilla), Douglas Ginsburg (Bismullah), and in recent days Judges Sentelle (Parhat), Wilkinson, Williams and the other Republicans on the Fourth Circuit (al-Marri), and Bates (Miers). Many of these executive and judicial officials did not, of course, hesitate to defend or uphold strong assertions of executive power or statutory construction in many instances -- suffice it to say that I've strongly disagreed with many of them on some such questions. But they -- and apparently many more like them, some of whom remain anonymous -- also all took quite extraordinary steps to reject some of the most extreme views of the Bush/Cheney Administration, to stand in the way of some of the more outrageous things that the Administration has tried to do, and, as in today's decision by Judge Bates, to treat the rule of law with rigor and respect.

[DISCLOSURE: I provided very modest assistance to the House Judiciary Committee on the case -- principally by participating in a moot court.]

Ending the "War" on Terrorism

JB

A RAND corporation report released on Tuesday argues that "Current U.S. strategy against the terrorist group al Qaida has not been successful in significantly undermining the group's capabilities" and that military force is rarely effective at stopping terrorist groups. Instead, a combination of local law enforcement and intelligence operations are most likely to succeed:
By analyzing a comprehensive roster of terrorist groups that existed worldwide between 1968 and 2006, the authors found that most groups ended because of operations carried out by local police or intelligence agencies or because they negotiated a settlement with their governments. Military force was rarely the primary reason a terrorist group ended, and few groups within this time frame achieved victory.

These findings suggest that the U.S. approach to countering al Qa'ida has focused far too much on the use of military force. Instead, policing and intelligence should be the backbone of U.S. efforts.
. . . .

What does this mean for counterterrorism efforts against al Qa'ida? After September 11, 2001, U.S. strategy against al Qa'ida concentrated on the use of military force. Although the United States has employed nonmilitary instruments — cutting off terrorist financing or providing foreign assistance, for example — U.S. policymakers continue to refer to the strategy as a “war on terrorism.”

But military force has not undermined al Qa'ida. As of 2008, al Qa'ida has remained a strong and competent organization. Its goal is intact: to establish a pan-Islamic caliphate in the Middle East by uniting Muslims to fight infidels and overthrow West-friendly regimes. It continues to employ terrorism and has been involved in more terrorist attacks around the world in the years since September 11, 2001, than in prior years, though engaging in no successful attacks of a comparable magnitude to the attacks on New York and Washington.

Al Qa'ida's resilience should trigger a fundamental rethinking of U.S. strategy. Its goal of a pan-Islamic caliphate leaves little room for a negotiated political settlement with governments in the Middle East. A more effective U.S. approach would involve a two-front strategy:

  • Make policing and intelligence the backbone of U.S. efforts. Al Qa'ida consists of a network of individuals who need to be tracked and arrested. This requires careful involvement of the Central Intelligence Agency and Federal Bureau of Investigation, as well as their cooperation with foreign police and intelligence agencies.
  • Minimize the use of U.S. military force. In most operations against al Qa'ida, local military forces frequently have more legitimacy to operate and a better understanding of the operating environment than U.S. forces have. This means a light U.S. military footprint or none at all.
Key to this strategy is replacing the war-on-terrorism orientation with the kind of counterterrorism approach that is employed by most governments facing significant terrorist threats today. Calling the efforts a war on terrorism raises public expectations — both in the United States and elsewhere — that there is a battlefield solution. It also tends to legitimize the terrorists' view that they are conducting a jihad (holy war) against the United States and elevates them to the status of holy warriors. Terrorists should be perceived as criminals, not holy warriors.
It is worth noting that for the past seven years the Bush Administration has criticized its opponents for advocating a law enforcement solution to terrorism, which it argues, is inadequate to meet the threat. The RAND study, suggests, to the contrary, that the Administration's military approach has been inadequate. It is worth remembering that the United States has not suffered an attack on its own soil since 9/11 but also that Al Qaeda has not been eliminated. This result is consistent with the RAND report's conclusions: Within American borders, law enforcement agencies assisted by intelligence agencies have been able to prevent terrorist attacks, but beyond our borders, we have not succeeded in wiping out Al Qaeda through military campaigns.

The Rand report also argues that American military presence in Muslim countries should be very light, largely confined to training and expertise. One reason for this is that military presence in Muslim countries makes American military force salient and increases recruiting efforts for terrorist groups. Indeed, it may well turn out to be the case that the greatest mistake of George H.W. Bush's presidency was the decision to increase American military presence in Saudi Arabia. This decision, premised on on America's long alliance with the Saudi rulers, may have stoked resentments among the population and led to the growth of Al Qaeda there. Bin Laden himself and many of the 9/11 conspirators were from Saudi Arabia; they objected to American military presence in the same country as some of Islam's holiest sites.

If this is so, it suggests that the Bush Administration's preference for permanent military bases in Iraq is a terrible idea, one that, far from helping prevent terrorism in the Middle East, may actually exacerbate it.

The irony is that the Bush Administration has devoted itself to eliminating the threat of terrorism using as much military force as it can muster, by refusing to characterize the problem as one of law enforcement, and by perpetuating and even increasing the American military presence in the Middle East. If the RAND report is to be believed, the Bush Administration has systematically chosen the worst policies in the last seven years.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Rubin: Should Law Schools Support Faculty Research?

Mary L. Dudziak

Should Law Schools Support Faculty Research? is a provocative new article by Dean Edward L. Rubin, Vanderbilt University School of Law. It appears in the Journal of Contemporary Legal Issues (2008). Hat tip to Lawrence Solum. Here's the abstract:

Law schools are predominantly financed by student tuition payments, yet a significant proportion of their expenditures do not directly benefit students, but rather support faculty research. Moreover, faculty research increasingly tends to be remote from law schools' pedagogic role. Thus that great bete noir of economists the cross-subsidy seems to be operating in force - students are paying for something that does not benefit them, and they are being compelled to do so by means of an intra-institutional transfer that they cannot control. This would appear to correspond to most people's notion of unfairness.

This article has two purposes. The first is to identify the nature of the cross-subsidy with more precision, and the second is to explore the question of its possible justification or correction. It turns out that the cross-subsidy is a good deal more complex than it initially appears, and, as a result, a good deal less unfair. There is nonetheless a residual unfairness toward students that should be remedied. The remedy, however, does not involve reducing research costs or altering research to relate more closely to the curriculum, but rather lies in altering the curriculum to correspond more closely to existing faculty research.
What does this mean for interdisciplinary scholars? Rubin's curricular reform ideas might, at first glance, seem in tension with scholarship that doesn't have an immediate, practical pay-off. But this is not the case.

For Rubin, in spite of 20th century innovations in legal thought,

the Langdellian curriculum has staggered on...despite ongoing criticism, like a figure, whether hero or villain, from an action movie who keeps fighting on after absorbing an inconceivable number of apparently mortal injuries. As a result, scholarship and teaching have increasingly diverged.
The solution is not to steer researchers toward traditional common law subjects, but instead to "change in the curriculum so that it corresponds more closely to the up-to-date, intellectually stimulating research that faculty members are pursuing." While much curricular reform focuses on the first year, Rubin would instead focus on the third year, recommending an innovation that I think many legal historians and other JD/Ph.D. scholars would find compelling. He reimagines the third year, when many students have become bored with law school, as legal education's

pinnacle or capstone, the peak experience toward which the first two years of the program are directed. In the case of law school, this means that the third year at a research oriented institution should engage the students in research. Each student should be enrolled in a course that is organized around, or at least inspired by, the research program of the faculty member who is teaching the course. They should carry out their own research program as part of their participation in this course. To begin with, this would bring students into contact with some contemporary developments in law and legal practice. While such courses would necessarily be limited to a relatively narrow subject, the student would at least be given a sense of current developments in the field. Second, and probably more important, courses of this sort would provide students with active learning opportunities. Rather than sitting in large lecture halls, or even around a seminar table, for one more year, students would be conceiving, organizing, and carrying out a sustained project under the supervision of the faculty member and within the ambit of the faculty member’s
own research agenda.
This may sound self-indulgent for faculty, but Rubin argues that it would provide students with a more "engaged, interactive educational experience" than traditional large courses. Further,

there is a vast range of other skills that a good lawyer must possess and that cannot be taught in a lecture format. Lawyers need to be able to gather facts, to organize large bodies of material, and to analyze this material in accordance with some theme or purpose. They need to be able to present the material, and their analysis of it, to their colleagues in an effective manner. They need to be able to critique a colleague’s work in a searching, rigorous manner, while remaining on good terms with that colleague. These are all skills that can be taught in a seminar format where students do a serious research project and present it in the class.

This is a reform agenda that legal historians and other interdisciplinary scholars need not be afraid of. Instead, Rubin aims to bring to legal education just the intensive sort of educational experience we enjoyed in our Ph.D. programs.

More details are in the article, which can be downloaded here.

Cross-posted from the Legal History Blog.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

"OLC Told Me I Could Do It"

Marty Lederman

That's a popular defense, of course, in the recent torture and surveillance scandals. But as I noted here a year ago, it was also an excuse offered in the DOJ political hiring affair: Monica Goodling testified that Kyle Sampson had told her that OLC (Dan Levin, in particular) had advised him that Immigration Judges were not subject to civil service protections and thus could be hired on a partisan basis.

Turns out, in this case, it just ain't true: The DOJ Inspector General looked into Sampson's account, and there's nothing to it. See pages 77-81, 117-118 of the Report. There's no evidence that Dan Levin, or Jack Goldsmith, or Ed Whelan (the three heads of the office during the pertinent period), nor any other OLC attorney, ever gave Sampson any such (erroneous) advice.

Monday, July 28, 2008

al-Marri and the Vexing Question of Indefinite Military Detention II (minus Mukasey)

Guest Blogger

Gabor Rona
Human Rights First

Marty Lederman does a terrific job of laying out the al Marri landscape. Still, his measured praise of Judge Wilkinson’s opinion might contain more measure and less praise were it to give applicable international law its due.

Yes, it is praiseworthy that Judge Wilkinson looks to “traditional law of war principles” to determine the constitutional ambit of detention authority. But he gets it wrong because he misconstrues the law of war and neglects applicable international human rights law.

First, Judge Wilkinson makes no reference to the distinction in the international laws of war between detention powers in wars between states and detention powers in wars that are not between states. In wars between states, members of armed forces and civilians can be detained without reference to habeas-type review under the authority of the 3d and 4th Geneva Conventions, respectively. These detainees get certain rights: in the case of combatants, a hearing to determine entitlement to Prisoner of War status and in the case of civilians, bi-annual administrative review.

But in armed conflicts that are not between states, namely those covered by Common Article 3 of, and Additional Protocol II to, the Geneva Conventions, there is no explicit detention authority similar to what is detailed in the Conventions’ provisions for state-to-state armed conflict. This is no accident. The drafters presumed that in such conflicts, domestic law would govern. This makes sense because in state-to-state conflicts, combatants are exempt from the operation of domestic criminal law for their mere participation in hostilities (but not for war crimes). In other armed conflicts, however, fighters are not “combatants” but rather, criminals under domestic law, even if the conflict transcends national boundaries.

Judge Wilkinson’s “test” for who may be constitutionally detained as an “enemy combatant” confuses matters by using the term “combatant” to include unprivileged belligerents. A combatant is, by definition under the laws of war, a person privileged to participate in hostilities. Thus, the term “lawful combatant” is redundant and the term “unlawful combatant” is an oxymoron.

In this respect, Marty’s mention of the recent Israeli Supreme Court decision upholding the domestic “detention of enemy combatants” law is relevant. It shows that states can regulate the detention of persons that the laws of war consider to be “unprivileged belligerents.” But just as relevant, if not more so, is another recent Israeli Supreme Court decision rejecting the concept of “unlawful combatant” as a status under the laws of war.

Second, Judge Wilkinson’s test is under-inclusive, as it fails to account for the detention authority contained in the Geneva Conventions for state-to-state armed conflict. He opines that among other criteria, a Congressional declaration of war or authorization for the use of military force is required. However, the Conventions make clear that declarations are immaterial to the application of the laws of war. What is material is the fact of armed conflict. It is doubtful that, in the event of a U.S. attack on another country, the U.S. Constitution would be read to prohibit detention authorized by the Geneva Conventions, simply because Congress has not spoken. (Do I underestimate the strength of the War Powers Resolution?)

Third, Judge Wilkinson fails to acknowledge the role of international human rights law in the matter of detention powers. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), to which the U.S. is a party, does not categorically prohibit administrative detention, but does prohibit arbitrary detention and provides for a mechanism, akin to habeas corpus, to remedy it.

Anytime one mentions the ICCPR in connection with U.S. terrorism detention policy, it is first necessary to dismiss two patently incorrect U.S. positions. The first is that human rights law has no bearing in armed conflict situations. This overbroad application of the concept of
lex specialis is rejected by the overwhelming majority of international jurisprudence and scholars. The U.S. theory goes that since the laws of war are specialized laws applicable in wartime, the more general law of human rights does not apply. But the laws of war do not cover everything. They do not, for example, cover questions about the power to detain and the right to challenge detention in armed conflicts that are not state-to-state. (See first point, above). This is only the most relevant example of many that highlight the true meaning of the lex specialis doctrine. Lex specialis does not mean that when a specific legal framework applies, all other more general ones are irrelevant. It does mean that when a specific legal framework applies, its rules trump inconsistent rules of other applicable frameworks. The application of human rights law at all times, even in armed conflict, has been confirmed by the International Court of Justice ICJ), the Yugoslavia Tribunal (ICTY), the Human Rights Committee (HRC), the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) and numerous scholars. It is even referenced in law of war treaties. For example, Common Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions requires trials to be conducted by “a regularly constituted court, affording all the judicial guarantees which are recognized as indispensible by civilized peoples.” Where is the laundry list of such judicial guarantees to be found? In the ICCPR. Another example of reference to human rights law in a law-of-war treaty is found in the preamble of Additional Protocol II to the Geneva Conventions: “Recalling furthermore that international instruments relating to human rights offer a basic protection to the human person . . .”

The second patently incorrect position taken by the U.S. is that the ICCPR has no bearing on extraterritorial conduct. The United States asserts that Article 2(1) of the ICCPR, which obliges each State to respect and to ensure to all individuals “within its territory and subject to its jurisdiction” the rights recognized in the Covenant, was intended, according to the negotiating history of the Covenant, to have no application to the conduct of a State beyond its territory. The record of negotiations, held when U.S. presence in foreign territory was a major fact of life in the aftermath of WW II, tells a different story. It indicates that in describing the scope of application of the ICCPR, the United States was motivated to add the words “within its territory” to the words “subject to its jurisdiction” for a limited purpose: to prevent a state from becoming responsible for violations committed against persons over whom that state has nominal jurisdiction, such as its own citizens or persons in territory under its occupation, but where the violations are actually committed by another state. There was no indication of intent to shield a state from responsibility for its own conduct.

This position of the U.S. has also been rejected by the vast majority of authorities, including the ICJ, the HRC and the IACHR. The ICJ notes, in particular, the ambiguity of the subject language, namely the possibility of reading the word “and” as either conjunctive or disjunctive. Ambiguity raises the need for interpretation, which, in accordance with customary provisions of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, is to be done in light of a treaty’s “object and purpose.” The Preamble to the ICCPR speaks of the inherent dignity and equal and inalienable rights of “all members of the human family” and conditions under which “everyone may enjoy” their rights. (Emphasis added). It can hardly be claimed that it is within the object and purpose of the ICCPR for a state party to be permitted to operate with impunity for human rights so long as it does so beyond its own borders.

But before addressing what the ICCPR demands in connection with the prohibition of arbitrary detention, I would acknowledge its inapplicability to detention questions in state-to-state armed conflict, since that field is occupied by the Geneva Conventions. This would be a correct application of the lex specialis doctrine – see above.

For all other situations, be they in armed conflict or in peacetime, human rights law requires not only that a detainee be afforded a mechanism to challenge detention (procedural due process), but that the decision to detain be grounded in a properly circumscribed law (substantive due process?) That law can be a criminal law provision or an administrative detention provision. Some experts think that administrative detention can only be used as an alternative to criminal charge when conditions permitting derogation from the obligations of the ICCPR exist (a threat to the life of the nation, etc.) Even absent that restriction, administrative detention must be established in domestic law that affords procedural due process and is rationally related to a serious risk sought to be addressed.

The vast majority of ink that has been spilled on differences between the administration and the Supreme Court on “enemy combatants” concerns questions of process. So far, there has been little confrontation over the definition of who may be detained. Perhaps this is proper – the Court deciding no more than is necessary to resolve the controversy at hand.

In al Marri, we have, perhaps, come to the point where, if Certiorari is granted, the Supreme Court will confront the ultimate question of who may be detained. If it does so in a manner consistent with the international law framework that, by virtue of the Constitution, is “part of our law,” it will need to drill down quite a bit more deeply than did Judge Wilkinson. Hopefully, that exercise will result in the realization, first of all, that the battlefield/no battlefield distinction proposed by some as a measure of who may be subjected to military/administrative detention is both under-inclusive and over-inclusive, for the reasons mentioned above. A second hope is that the Court, while giving the administration its due in situations of state-to-state armed conflict, will, in other situations, draw the line in a manner that keeps faith with American constitutional traditions. Such faith would require a rejection of administrative detention in favor of criminal charge.

We at Human Rights First were gratified by Judge Motz’s reference in al Marri to our recently published study of the criminal justice system’s experience in over 100 international terrorism cases. That study, conducted by former prosecutors, found that federal prosecutors have at their disposal a broad selection of substantive law to cover preparatory as well as completed acts and conduct occurring abroad, that courts make use of an array of laws and procedures designed to protect national security information from disclosure, and that they can exercise the flexibility necessary to meet the challenges such cases present. The study concedes that criminal prosecution is not the single answer to terrorism. Intelligence gathering, financial controls, diplomacy and the use of military force all have their place. But when the question is how best to incapacitate and hold accountable those who threaten and commit terrorist acts, the answer is staring out at us from our own Constitution.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Mukasey, al-Marri, and the Vexing Question of Indefinite Military Detention

Marty Lederman

The Attorney General attracted a great deal of attention last week by delivering an address to the American Enterprise Institute in which he urged Congress to do something about the habeas corpus proceedings that are now underway as a result of the Boumediene decision. That is to say, after ignoring Congress for almost eight years, and insisting all along that detention decisions can accurately and fairly be made by the Pentagon itself, without any judicial review, meaningful adversarial process, or public transparency, the Administration is now all-of-a-sudden desperate for statutory guidance -- just at the very moment, not coincidentally, that the federal courts are beginning finally to make some sense of the whole affair, to address the substantive question of who can be militarily detained, and to provide a semblance of due process to the hundreds of GTMO detainees.

There's very good reason, in other words, why there's no prospect Congress will take up the Attorney General's call before the election: The legislature quite properly thinks that now is the time to give the federal courts a chance to handle the problem deliberately and comprehensively, after which Congress can decide whether it is necessary to supplement the judiciary on any outstanding, vexing questions.

The AG's speech was important, nevertheless, because of what it reveals: for if one looks closely, one can see the areas of real vulnerability for the Administration now that its detention practices are being examined by courts in the cold light of day.

For example, it struck me as odd that the very first thing the AG insists upon as a "critical[]" element of new legislation is a provision prohibiting habeas courts from ordering "that an alien captured or detained during wartime be admitted and released into the United States." Why? If the government cannot demonstrate that the person is an enemy combatant, and there is no way to send the detainee back to their home country (such as in the case of the Uighurs, who would be persecuted if sent back to China), why is it so "critical" that courts not be able to order their release into the United States? [UPDATE: Of course in some cases -- such as where the detainee is a terrorist unconnected to al Qaeda and there is not sufficient evidence to try the person criminally -- release into the U.S. should be foreclosed. But courts are unlikely to issue such orders, anyway, and it's not clear why they should be categorically prohibited from ordering such release, even in cases where there is no established threat of dangerousness.]

The AG also wants Congress to expressly foreclose "challenges to conditions of confinement." As far as I know, there haven't been very many such cases, so again, it's not clear exactly what the worry is. Is the Administration, perhaps, concerned about judicial review of whether, say, its interrogation methods violate the law?

The most important sentence in the AG's speech, however, was a nugget buried deep within it. Strangely, Mukasey urges Congress to "acknowledge again and explicitly that this nation remains engaged in an armed conflict with al Qaeda, the Taliban, and associated organizations." As one observer has noted, this is a very perplexing request to make as a centerpiece of the Administration proposal, because Congress has already authorized the use of military force against the perpetrators of the 9/11 attacks by a 518-1 vote -- and so to "acknowledge again" the armed conflict would, indeed, be "a bit redundant." The real action, however, is in the next sentence of the speech: "Congress should reaffirm that for the duration of the conflict the United States may detain as enemy combatants those who have engaged in hostilities or purposefully supported al Qaeda, the Taliban, and associated organizations."

What the Attorney General is truly interested in is post-hoc statutory authorization of the Administration's detention policy. Note carefully the breadth of the categories of persons concerning whom the Administration is asking Congress to authorize indefinite military detention:

1. "those who have engaged in hostilities" -- apparently anyone, anywhere, who has engaged in "hostilities" (perhaps only against the United States and its coalition partners, but the AG's speech does not suggest such a qualification), without regard to whether the hostilities were on behalf of al Qaeda or the Taliban, or whether the detainees have any other connection to the 9/11 attacks.
and
2. those who have "purposely supported al Qaeda, the Taliban, and associated organizations."
"Support" for an organization "associated" with the Taliban, on this view, would justify indefinite military detention, without regard to whether the organization or the detainee has any connection to al Qaeda or to the 9/11 attacks, without regard to whether the detainee has committed any hostile acts, and without regard to whether the detainee presents any future risk of violence that would warrant indefinite incapacitation.

This one crucial sentence does, I think, fairly reflect the remarkable breadth of the theory of military detention power under which the Bush Administration has been operating for the past seven years, something I recently discussed in connection with the Parhat case. But if Congress were to codify this definition of "enemy combatant," it would not be "reaffirming" an authority that it has previously provided; it would, instead, be greatly expanding the authority conveyed in the AUMF, and in effect providing post hoc cover for the Administration's substantial overreading of that authority.

The reason Judge Mukasey is so eager for such a statute is that the federal courts are now beginning to call the Administration's bluff on its theory of detention authority. I've already discussed one of the most egregious cases, that of the Uighurs. But even where the government ostensibly "wins" a detention case, the judges ruling on its behalf are at pains to greatly circumscribe the category of persons who may be militarily detained.

A case in point is the extraordinarily interesting and important al-Marri decision that the en banc U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit issued last week. That case involves the question of whether Congress has given the President the authority to order the indefinite detention of someone (i) who resides in the United States; (ii) who was arrested in the United States; and (iii) who was already incapacitated by virtue of being detained within the ordinary criminal justice system.

The court split 5-4 on two distinct questions. Five of the judges held that if the government proves its allegations, then it does have the power to militarily detain al-Marri. One of those five judges, however (Judge Traxler) also joined with the other four judges in deciding that al-Marri was entitled to greater procedural due process protections in the habeas case testing those government allegations.

I have previously explained the principal reason why I think President Bush was not authorized to order al-Marri's indefinite military detention: President Bush "found" that al-Marri "represents a continuing, present, and grave danger to the national security of the United States," and that therefore military detention "is necessary to prevent him from aiding al Qaeda in its efforts to attack the United States or its armed forces, other governmental personnel, or citizens." This is, in a word, nonsense. Even if everything the government alleges about al-Marri's ties to al Qaeda are true, he did not "represent a continuing, present, and grave danger to the national security of the United States" at the time of the President's order, because he was already incapacitated -- imprisoned -- within the criminal justice system, where his trial was pending. It appears plain that al-Marri was transferred from the criminal justice system to indefinite military detention not for the one reason that justifies such detention (incapacitation), but instead in order to subject him to coercive, possibly abusive, interrogation. (See my previous post, linked above, and page 38, note 19 of Judge Motz's opinion in last week's decision.) If that is correct, then in my view the transfer was fundamentally illegitimate, unauthorized by Congress, and already proscribed by the Supreme Court.

For present purposes, however, what is most important about the al-Marri case is that even the five judges of this very conservative court who ruled in favor of the Administration on the detention question did so based on a theory of detention authority far narrower than that urged (and implemented) by the Bush Administration and reflected in AG Mukasey's legislative proposal. The details are below the fold, but the summary is this:

al-Marri has been understandably advertised as a decision of a hopelessly splintered court. And, it is true, on the precise questions before the court, there were deep splits -- not only as to the precise level of due process that is required in a habeas proceeding of this sort, but also on the question of what the government has to show in order to justify the indefinite administrative detention of a U.S. person interdicted in the United States. This is a very important question, one perhaps even cert.-worthy . . . but it's important to keep in mind that, thus far, it is a question at the periphery of the war-on-terror detention regime, because only two such persons (al-Marri and Padilla) have been detained here in the U.S.

Much more significant than these divisions on the Fourth Circuit, however, is the remarkable degree of consensus on this ideologically polarized court with respect to a much more pressing, more common problem -- namely, the outer limits of the President's noncriminal detention authority where the arrest is made outside the United States. That is the central question relevant to thousands of current detainees, including the hundreds with habeas cases now pending in the District Court in D.C. And on that question, the judges of the Fourth Circuit, ranging across the political spectrum, agreed that the detention authority is much more circumscribed than what the Bush Administration has argued and implemented: Indeed, the most pro-Executive opinion of the bunch, that of Judge Wilkinson, goes so far as to conclude that the Constitution itself imposes significant limits on the detention power -- limits that are necessary lest the political branches "breach this country’s most fundamental values."

The governing opinion by Judge Traxler (joined by Judge Niemeyer) concludes (p.73) that Congress has authorized the military detention of "individuals who are dispatched [to the United States] by al Qaeda, the organization known to have carried out the 9/11 attacks upon our country, as sleeper agents and terrorist operatives charged with the task of committing additional attacks upon our homeland." In other words (p.76), "operatives who associate with the enemy, be that the al Qaeda organization or the Taliban government, "'and with its aid, guidance and direction enter this country bent on hostile acts'" (quoting Quirin).

Beyond that category of persons who are bent on hostile acts under the direction of al Qaeda or the Taliban, Judge Traxler does not further examine the scope of the military detention authority, except to intriguingly hint (p.76) that Congress has not authorized the President to indefinitely detain "a civilian who became sympathetic to al-Qaeda’s mission and sought to support it in indirect ways."

Judge Williams, joined by Judge Duncan, more precisely (p.116) defines "an enemy combatant subject to detention pursuant to Congressional authorizations as an individual who meets two criteria: (1) he attempts or engages in belligerent acts against the United States, either domestically or in a foreign combat zone; (2) on behalf of an enemy force." If a detainee does not meet these criteria, Judge Williams concludes, then not only isn't the detention authorized by Congress, but "the Constitution forbids such detention" (p.115).

This is very similar to the conclusion reached by Judge Wilkinson in his remarkable solo opinion. I disagree with important aspects of that opinion that bear on al-Marri's case: In particular, I question Judge Wilkinson's assumption that Congress did not intend to put the government to a higher burden of proof if it wishes to use military detention with respect to U.S. persons who are (i) detained in the United States and who (ii) can be tried for crimes. Our tradition, and that of other nations, is to use the criminal justice system in such cases, lest we give the executive too broad a detention power with regard to domestic activities and persons. Unless and until Congress speaks clearly, I think it fair to assume that the legislature did not intend to depart from this historical tradition in the dramatic way suggested by Judge Wilkinson. Moreover, I think Judge Wilkinson is fundamentally mistaken in arguing (pp. 148-149) that one sufficient reason for transferring such a detainee out of the criminal justice system and into military detention is that it is easier to squeeze information out of a suspect who is held "incommunicado." The very characteristics of such "incommunicado" detention that make it attractive to Judge Wilkinson -- the fear, disorientation and absence of legal assistance that might lead such detainees to reveal valuable intelligence information -- not to mention the severe risk of abusive cruel treatment in such a legal black hole, make this rationale an illegitimate basis for eschewing the criminal justice system, in my view (and I think it's fair to read the Supreme Court as having said likewise in Hamdi). The singular legitimate justification for such detention is to incapacitate dangerous enemies who would otherwise pose a threat to the safety of our troops or citizens.

Those important differences noted, however, I think it is fair to say that Judge Wilkinson's very long and detailed opinion is by far the most thoughtful and thorough attempt by any American jurist thus far to examine the very difficult question of just who may be militarily detained under the AUMF and the Constitution. He makes a valiant effort to construct a "principled [legal] framework" for drawing the important lines between who can be administratively detained and who must be criminally prosecuted, based on careful readings of congressional intent, the laws of war, Supreme Court precedents, and constitutional limits. Even if, like me, you do not agree with Judge Wilkinson's argument in full (see the previous paragraph), he should be applauded for advancing the ball so significantly. Along with the thoughtful alternative views of his colleagues in al-Marri, the recent, grounbreaking Israeli Supreme Court decision on this subject, and Judge Garland's extraordinary opinion in Parhat (which I discussed here), we are now much father along than we ever were pre-Boumediene in finally figuring out just who may be detained, and how far astray the Bush Administration has gone in its indiscriminate, interrogation-based detention policy.

Judge Wilkinson begins with important fundamental premises, largely ignored by the Executive:
While the ability to detain eliminates many of the problems associated with criminal prosecution, open-ended detention is not an acceptable way to conform our historic commitments to liberty to the exigencies of this different kind of conflict. Under the military detention model, the President may detain enemy combatants without trying them in the criminal justice system. This is an awesome power and, as such, must be properly circumscribed. Detainees are not afforded the full protections of the Bill of Rights or the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure, and the executive’s actions are not subject to the accountability that is inherent in the criminal justice system. To turn every crime that might be tenuously linked to terrorism into a military matter would breach this country’s most fundamental values.
Judge Wilkinson then searches for "a set of criteria that enable us to identify when military detention is a constitutionally permissible option," and finds such criteria predominantly in "traditional law of war principles" that he (correctly) concludes should guide not only our interpretation of congressional intent, but that also, and more fundamentally, "inform our understanding of the war powers in Articles I and II [of the Constitution] and of the enemy combatant category." (In thus suggesting that the laws of war should inform our understanding of the political branches' constitutional war powers, Judge Wilkinson here is sounding a theme similar to that recently pressed by David Golove.)

Judge Wilkinson concludes, in particular, that "traditional law of war principles are consistent with the belief that indiscriminate detention is antithetical to constitutional norms and cannot be tolerated under our system of justice." His discussion thereafter is built upon what he calls "the cardinal principle of discrimination, which seeks to minimize the unnecessary destruction of life and property that results from purposeless or wanton violence." This principle of discrimination "allows warring nations to detain those who do represent a military threat, ensuring that such persons, but only those persons, are removed from the field of conflict. . . . This principle of discrimination is effectuated through the category of 'enemy combatant.' Only 'enemy combatants' may be the intended targets of military force or militarily detained."

Judge Wilkinson then develops the following three-criteria test as a constitutional limit (reflecting also the laws of war as "translated" to this new sort of conflict, as well as presumed congressional intent) on who may be administratively detained as an enemy combatant:
[T]the person must (1) be a member of (2) an organization or nation against whom Congress has declared war or authorized the use of military force, and (3) knowingly plans or engages in conduct that harms or aims to harm persons or property for the purpose of furthering the military goals of the enemy nation or organization.
As I've explained above, I think that there are other limits, as well, at least for those persons detained in the United States who may be incapacitated within the criminal justice system. But even if we were to limit ourselves to Judge Wilkinson's three-part test, it is easy to see why that test provides a much more circumscribed authority than that the Bush Administration has exercised and Judge Mukasey has asked Congress to codify:

The first criterion, the membership requirement, distinguishes those who are the enemy "from those who merely sympathize with the enemy." The second criterion ensures what Judge Wilkinson describes as "a significant political check": Although it "recognizes that Congress may authorize the use of military force against nonstate actors, such as terrorist organizations," it also "appropriately excludes from the category of 'enemy' those persons or groups against whom Congress has not authorized the use of military force." "For certain," Judge Wilkinson emphasizes, "there are many individuals and organizations engaged in unlawful conduct, and even terrorism. But most of these individuals and organizations have nothing to do with al Qaeda, its affiliates, or the September 11 attacks. Under this criterion, such persons would not be eligible for military detention under the AUMF. This is . . . appropriate in light of the constitutional imperative that military detention be the exception and not the rule." (Judge Wilkinson emphasizes, appropriately, that such persons may, of course, be punished for their violent conduct in the ordinary criminal justice system.)

Most important, perhaps, is the third Wilkinson criterion:

If the first two criteria address who in modern warfare is the enemy, the third criterion addresses who is the combatant. Historically, this distinction has separated those with military aims from those who do not present a threat to opposing forces. Though yesterday’s soldier has been replaced, at least in part, by those who eschew the conventions of lawful warfare, the purpose underlying this distinction remains unchanged. In light of today’s realities, a "combatant" is a person who knowingly plans or engages in conduct that harms or aims to harm persons or property for the purpose of furthering the military goals of an enemy nation or organization. Like the first two criteria, this requirement closely tracks the relevant traditional law of war rules.

Under this criterion, those who use military-like force against American soldiers or civilians obviously qualify as combatants. Similarly, members of an enemy sleeper terrorist cell that have taken steps, even if preliminary in nature, toward an act of destruction are also considered combatants. Conversely, persons traditionally considered civilians, such as members of the enemy organization who do not possess hostile or military designs, are non-combatants and may not be detained by the military. This includes persons who would clearly be non-combatants, such as a "physician who treated a member of al Qaeda," because they intend no harm to persons or property. Such persons would not be subject to military detention.
If these three criteria were to be applied, it would mean that the Bush Administration lacks authority for the military detention of a great number of its detainees -- not only those it has already released, but also many of those remaining at GTMO, at Bagram, and elsewhere. For example, as I've discussed with respect to the Parhat case, the Bush Administration has detained several Uighurs for more than six years, even though such persons are not even affiliated with, let alone members of, the governments and organizations that Congress identified in the AUMF. They, and many other detainees, do not even satisfy the first two of the Wilkinson criteria. As Ben Wittes points out in his new book Law and the Long War (see pages 79-80), even on the government's own explanations of the detainability of the GTMO detainess, the majority of such prisoners are not members of al Qaeda or the Taliban, let alone members who have engaged in or planned belligerent actions: ""Ultimately, the government labeled more than twice as many detainees as associated with the groups than it branded as 'members' of them--and it branbded almost four times as many detainees 'members' as it did 'fighters.'"

A significant number of other detainees might even be members of al Qaeda or the Taliban, but have not "knowingly plan[ned] or engage[d] in conduct that harms or aims to harm persons or property for the purpose of furthering [al Qaeda's or the Taliban's] military goals." Those detainees would not satisfy the third Wilkinson criterion.

The Administration's policy and practice has been, in effect, to track the rationale in John Yoo's war powers opinion of September 25, 2001, which asserted the power of the President to disregard any limitations or limited authorizations contained in Congress's AUMF: Under the theory of that opinion, the Bush Administration has asserted and exercised the power to indefinitely detain any persons who the Executive branch has determined to be a terrorist threat of any sort (without regard to membership in al Qaeda or the Taliban) -- to (in Yoo's words) "reach other terrorist individuals, groups, or states, which cannot be determined to have links to the September 11 attacks" -- or who are "affiliated with" terrorist organizations in virtually any indirect way. Such is the inevitable, indiscriminate result of a detention policy designed to procure actionable intelligence from any potential source, rather than one designed to incapacitate the command and control structure of a legislatively identified enemy.

Judge Mukasey is now asking Congress to ratify this policy -- to allow indefinite detention of anyone who has "engaged in hostilities" and of anyone who has "supported" not only al Qaeda and the Taliban, but all (undefined) "associated organizations," as well.

But not only has Congress not previously authorized such a vast power -- if Judge Wilkinson and his quite pro-executive colleagues on the Fourth Circuit are to be believed, it would be unconstitutional to do so.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Revisting Hart v. Fuller: "No Vehicles in the Park"

Brian Tamanaha

In these dog days of summer, I thought it might be entertaining (?) for readers of the blog to revisit the classic 1958 Hart-Fuller debate over the interpretation of rules. Hart asserted that rules have a core literal meaning that is determined without consideration of the purposes behind the rule. Fuller countered that purpose always factors into the interpretation of rules (though often implicitly). They fought it out using this example: “No vehicles in the park.” This debate has been rehashed innumerable times by legal theorists (most recently by Fred Schauer here), with what looks like a strong consensus on Hart’s side.

I have always thought that Hart had the better of the debate. But after reading Schauer’s defense of Hart’s position, I became convinced that Fuller was correct (yes, that is what I meant to say). A simple example occurred to me that I think clinches the point. Read the argument below--it's just a few paragraphs--and tell me what you think.


To repeat: Hart insisted that “No vehicles in the park” has a core meaning conveyed by the conventional meaning of its terms (automobiles prohibited), although its application at the penumbra (to bicycles and roller skates, he suggested) is ambiguous and must be decided by the judge (often by reference to purpose). In response, Fuller argued that the interpretation of rules unavoidably involves consideration of underlying purposes, even with respect to core meaning.

To illustrate his point, Fuller postulated the placement of a World War II truck in the park as a war memorial. He asked whether this is within the core or the penumbra of the “No vehicles in the park” rule, and what places it there. The standard riposte to Fuller’s argument is that a functional truck, even if intended as a memorial, is clearly prohibited by the rule because it is a “vehicle.” Theorists say that Fuller’s example doe not refute Hart’s position, but merely serves to illustrate that rules, when applied literally, can have unintended or undesirable results. That is Schauer’s view of the debate as well.

But Fuller cannot be dismissed so easily. To see why he might be right, read these standard definitions of “vehicle:” “1) any means in or by which someone travels or something is carried or conveyed…; 2) a conveyance moving on wheels, runners, tracks, or the like, as a cart, sled, automobile, or tractor.” Now ask: What in the literal (conventional) meaning of “No vehicles in the park” determines that automobiles are in the obviously prohibited core, while bicycles and roller skates, as Hart claimed, are in the ambiguous penumbra?

A limitless number of possible conveyances come with the definition of “vehicle” (wheelchair, skateboard, child’s wagon), none distinguished by the literal terms of the rule. Hart thought it obvious that an automobile is a paradigm example of a vehicle, which is correct, but no more so than a bicycle. Perhaps Hart thought that application of the rule to bicycles was ambiguous because he had in mind a sedate city park where people ambled along in conversation, an atmosphere that bicycles would disrupt. But that involves consideration of purpose to determine what is (and is not) in the core meaning of the rule, which goes against his own position.

Consider a more evocative example. Only by knowing what parks are for and by having in mind what this rule aims at achieving would one say that “No vehicles in the park” prohibits automobiles but not baby strollers, which easily fall within the definition of “vehicle.” (Core meaning covers what is included in the rule’s coverage as well as what is excluded.). No member of the community, no park enforcement officer, no judge, would even conceive that this rule prohibits baby strollers, which are normal in parks.

Hart’s argument can perhaps be saved by asserting that all conveyances are within the core meaning of the rule, so every application that might be considered problematic—including baby strollers and wheelchairs—is not an ambiguity but just another undesirable result. But that does not seem accurate. It goes without saying that a baby stroller is not prohibited by “No vehicles in the park”—no ambiguity about it.

Assumptions about underlying purposes restrict (constrain, shape) and rank the possible meanings that occur to interpreters of a rule. It is within the “core meaning” of this rule that automobiles are included but baby strollers are not because the implicitly understood purpose, not literal meaning of the terms alone, makes it so. Purpose and literal meaning are intertwined in interpretation, neither dictating but both in play.

Fuller was right.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Thinking about the next regime

JB

I haven't been writing much about the day to day features of the political campaign this year. There are three reasons for this.

One is that it isn't central to this blog's purpose, which is to provide a serious academic discussion of legal and constitutional issues, with a little philosophy and political theory on the side.

The second is that I find most of the day-by-day elements of the campaign unbelievably mindless and trivial.

The third reason is that I have every reason to think that the outcome is already decided. Obama wins, the Dems pick up several seats in the Senate-- to somewhere around 55 seats (give or take a few)-- and the Republicans maintain the ability to filibuster.

In recent days, Kevin Drum and Dan Drezner have pointed to this essay by Clive Crook about macro-factors that tend to decide most presidential elections. They could also have cited to Ray Fair's simple model of presidential elections
. These models, and others like them, suggest that we need to pay attention to the big picture, which has only a few important elements. In particular, because (1) Bush is very very unpopular, (2) the economy is not doing so well, and (3) the Republicans have held the White House for eight years, the Democrats will almost certainly win the Presidency. As Dan puts it, "if, given the current structural conditions, the Democratic Party fails to win in November, the party should simply disband." (I recognize that for some readers this is a consummation devoutly to be wished.)

However, as Dan also points out, you can't make a living as a political pundit (or really any kind of pundit) by announcing that the race is already over, and that the latest brouhaha, controversy, or feigned outrage, is irrelevant, mindless and trivial, because "[p]undits who say, `it doesn’t make a difference' are not invited back to do more punditry."

Fortunately for me, however, I have a day job.

Now when I say the outcome of the 2008 election is pretty much predetermined, I don't mean that Obama and McCain should stop raising money or giving speeches. I assume that they will keep raising money and running their campaigns. I also
do not mean that there is *nothing* that could happen that could change the outcome. For there are in fact some things that could change the outcome.

Here are some things that could happen:

1. The U.S. is attacked by terrorists on our own soil.
2. Senator Obama is assassinated or seriously wounded in an assassination attempt and is unable to continue the race.
3. A major, major scandal essentially destroys the Obama campaign.

Any of these things could happen, any of them would be major news, and worth paying attention to. Believe me, I would pay attention to any of them.

But none of them have happened yet. Instead, people are worrying over the cover of the New Yorker, who McCain will pick as Vice-President, and whether Hillary's supporters will ever stop being disgruntled about her loss.

The questions that interest me at this point concern the larger meaning of the election. Is the conservative coalition that has dominated American politics since 1980 essentially gone, like the New Deal coalition before it? (I think it is). Has the constitutional revolution of the conservative movement crested, and are we on the verge of a new constitutional regime? (Possibly). Or, to the contrary, will Obama be like Bill Clinton, a Democrat who works in opposition to the dominant trends of politics and tries to coopt some of its themes? (Also possible, but less likely).

If, as I think Obama's victory means the end of the political era defined by Ronald Reagan and the conservative movement, the question is what this new constitutional/political era looks like, what are its main themes and preoccupations? These are by no means settled yet. It's worth noting that when Roosevelt took office in 1932 nobody knew that the Republican regime of 1897-1932 was over or what the future would look like. Despite Brown v. Board of Education and the early civil rights movement, few people saw the civil rights revolution or the Great Society coming in 1960, when John F. Kennedy took office. And few Democrats understood in 1980, when Ronald Reagan was elected, that their day of hegemony was over. (They tended to assume that Jimmy Carter had been done in by inflation and the hostage crisis, that they still controlled the House, and that they would be back.).

So we have a pretty good idea that the next President will be a Democrat, and that the Reagan coalition has fallen apart, but what we don't know is what the next regime looks like. That's something well worth speculating about, even though most of what we guess will turn out to be wide of the mark.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

UK Parliament report: The U.S. tortures and cannot be trusted when it denies it

JB

The Human Rights Annual Report 2007 released Sunday by the UK House of Commons Foreign Affairs Committee states that "the UK can no longer rely on US assurances that it does not use torture, and we recommend that the Government does not rely on such assurances in the future." (Hat tip: Jurist)

From the report at p. 25:

52. There appears to be a striking inconsistency in the Government’s approach to this matter. As noted above, it has relied on assurances by the US Government that it does not use torture. However, it is evident that, in the case of water-boarding and perhaps other techniques, what the UK considers to be torture is viewed as a legal interrogation technique by the US Administration. With the divergence in definitions, it is difficult to see how the UK can rely on US assurances that it does not torture. As Amnesty International argues, “what the USA considers torture does not match international law”.86 Human Rights Watch adds that “President Bush’s statements on torture need to be considered in the light of the memoranda from his legal advisers that re-defined torture so narrowly as to make the prohibition virtually meaningless.”87

53. We conclude that the Foreign Secretary’s view that water-boarding is an instrument of torture is to be welcomed. However, given the recent practice of water-boarding by the US, there are serious implications arising from the Foreign Secretary’s stated position. We conclude that, given the clear differences in definition, the UK can no longer rely on US assurances that it does not use torture, and we recommend that the Government does not rely on such assurances in the future. We also recommend that the Government should immediately carry out an exhaustive analysis of current US interrogation techniques on the basis of such information as is publicly available or which can be supplied by the US. We further recommend that, once its analysis is completed, the Government should inform this Committee and Parliament as to its view on whether there are any other interrogation techniques that may be approved for use by the US Administration which it considers to constitute torture.


Friday, July 18, 2008

Media Access in the Age of the Internet

JB

I've just posted a short essay, Media Access: A Question of Design on SSRN. Here is the abstract:

This essay, written for a symposium in honor of Jerome Barron, asks what media access means in the age of the Internet. Twentieth century debates about media access presupposed a relatively small group of private media owners who tightly controlled access and who combined content delivery with content production. Today a central element of many telecommunications business models is providing widespread access to content delivery systems and encouraging mass participation in content production. That is because many business models increasingly depend on attracting user-generated content.

In 1967, Jerome Barron argued that First Amendment doctrines created by courts could help secure media access and promote public participation in mass media. Although First Amendment *values* remain important in shaping public policy and technological design, the First Amendment itself, at least as interpreted by courts, will do relatively little to promote these goals.

When people debate whether the First Amendment guarantees positive rights enforceable by courts, or rights of access to private media, they have probably already assumed a particular kind of media ecology, and taken existing business models and technology as a given. This is a mistake. Technology policy is prior to these rights questions. It is not prior logically or jurisprudentially, but practically. If the system of mass communications is designed correctly, better media access is already built into the system and into the existing models of business competition. The Internet by itself does not guarantee effective media access. It has to be built in a certain way: to facilitate openness and participation. Judges are not particularly good at this task.

The basic problem of media access is not constitutional in the legal sense, i.e., what the U.S. Constitution demands or forbids. Rather, it is "constitutional" in a technological and social sense: what kinds of technologies, business models, social formations, and user practices constitute the media ecology. To promote media access today, we must look beyond the boundaries of judicially created First Amendment rights; we must look instead to issues of technological design and to law's role in shaping and regulating technologies, business models, and end-user practices.


Thursday, July 17, 2008

This Tells You Basically Everything You Need to Know . . .

Marty Lederman

. . . about legal interpretation in the Bush Administration:

When Jay Bybee was confirmed to the federal bench in early 2003, Attorney General John Ashcroft sent no fewer than five names to the White House as possible replacements to be Assistant AG for the Office of Legal Counsel:

Adam Ciongoli, Paul Clement, Brett Kavanaugh, Dan Levin and Ed Whelan.

From the White House's perspective, none of these five very accomplished lawyers -- each of whom, I think, it is fair to describe as very conservative and committed to the Bush Administration -- was acceptable, because none was sufficiently reliable. (That is to say: Each might have been expected to think for themselves and interpret the law in ways that diverged from the John Yoo opinions.)

The impasse led to the hiring of Jack Goldsmith, who the White House assumed would be a "safer" choice. Oops.

Jack lasted eight months, during which time he repudiated a series of earlier OLC opinions concerning the war on terror. He was succeeded by Dan Levin, and when Dan began to question the legality of the TSP and the CIA's interrogation techniques, he was jettisoned.

Before he left, Levin issued his replacement torture opinion, on December 30, 2004. Much has been made (including by John Ashcroft this morning in House testimony) about footnote 8 of that memo, which is said to have reconfirmed the legality of the CIA interrogation techniques that OLC had previously approved. But as Levin recently testified, the footnote in question merely indicated that the writers of the 2002 memos -- i.e., John Yoo -- would not have changed their conclusions, even if they had employed Levin's analysis. Levin himself, however, was uncertain about the legality of some of the CIA techniques, and was in the process of reviewing them when he was effectively removed from OLC.

Jane Mayer's new book provides further telling details:

"The footnote [8 of the Levin memo -- the one suggesting that he was approving all the CIA techniques] had a contorted, forced quality. Although few knew it,
there was a reason why." Levin had already antagonized David Addington by adopting the Goldsmith view on the NSA program, and by initiating a reconsideration of whether the CIA interrogation techniques were lawful. At this point, according to Mayer, Alberto Gonzales (then awaiting confirmation as Attorney General) "made clear to Levin that unless he included language in his new legal memo declaring that nothing in the Bush Administration had done in earlier interrogations was illegal, the Justice Department would not accept his opinion." Levin "was worried that unless he gave Gonzales what he wanted, the Bush Administration would scrap his memo, abandoning the whole effort to reform interrogation practices. Under these extraordinary circumstances, Levin agreed to put in the cryptic footnote whitewashing previous practices. He reasoned that if he wrote it carefully enough, it would accurately reflect his thinking."

This is fairly amazing: The White House insisted that OLC include a footnote that would (inaccurately) suggest that the CIA techniques were legal, on the threat that the opinion would not be accepted. (Mayer also notes that the footnote referred only to written OLC advice, not oral -- because Dan Levin had heard rumors that John Yoo had orally approved the use of mind-altering drugs and mock burials, which Levin thought were plainly unlawful.)

Under such pressure, Levin included the footnote, even though he did not believe that the CIA techniques were necessarily lawful, writing the note carefully so that it also could bear his own intended meaning.

To his great credit, Levin then began preparing the follow-up OLC opinion in which he would reconsider the CIA techniques -- at which point he was effectively fired. Mayer reports that Levin warned Gonzales not to choose Stephen Bradbury as head of OLC, because "he won't give you independent advice."

Which they viewed as the best possible recommendation of Steve Bradbury for the job. Nonetheless, they wanted to make sure Bradbury wouldn't be another Goldsmith (or Ciongoli, or Clement, or Kavanaugh, or Levin, or Whelan), so they put Bradbury "on probation," waiting to see if his work product was acceptable before nominating him. Of course, he gave them what they were looking for . . . advice that the CIA could engage many of the previously approved techniques in combination . . . and here we are.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Dodging the Death Penalty Bullet On Child Rape

Guest Blogger

John J. Donohue III

Daniel Schuker


The recent Supreme Court decision striking down the Louisiana death sentence of a man convicted of raping an eight-year-old girl was marred by at least two factual errors. Nonetheless, the ruling managed to reach the correct result of saving the state and the country from a major, and almost certainly harmful, expansion in the use of capital punishment.

The first error, relatively minor but still embarrassing, was revealed in a New York Times report just seven days after the decision’s release. The article identified an incorrect statement about federal death penalty law.

In his opinion declaring the death penalty an unconstitutional punishment for child rape, Justice Anthony M. Kennedy observed that only six states allowed executions for this heinous crime. The Court asserted, erroneously, that no such punishment was permitted under federal law.

In fact, Congress in 2006 had added child rape to the crimes eligible for the military death penalty, and President Bush later incorporated the changes into this year’s edition of the Manual for Courts-Martial.

Lawyers unhappy with the Court’s decision might hope that this legal error will provide a basis for reversing the decision. Justice Kennedy’s finding of a “national consensus” among state and federal jurisdictions provided a foundation for his conclusion that permitting the death penalty for child rape is inconsistent with the “evolving standards of decency” by which the Court interprets the Eighth Amendment. The error on federal law is taken to suggest that electoral rejection of such statutes is not as comprehensive as Justice Kennedy believed. But the fact that even the Court and the Solicitor General did not know of this arcane aspect of military justice suggests that the recent legislative and executive changes are closer to stealth lobbyist insertions into the tax code than an important expression of the public’s support for a widening application of this extreme sanction.

One can begin to grasp why the Court was reluctant to broaden the reach of capital punishment beyond cases involving murder by looking at the recent operation of the death penalty in the United States.

Over the last three decades, about 600,000 Americans have been murdered and roughly 1,100 have been executed. The Court has emphasized that the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition of cruel and unusual punishment requires that the death penalty be limited to the most egregious cases, but it is readily apparent that a tremendous number of egregious murders do not lead to executions.

Those in favor of adding child rape to the list of capital crimes probably were unaware of how pervasive the crime is, which brings us to the second and far more serious factual oversight in the Court’s June 25 opinion in Kennedy v. Louisiana. While the U.S. spends tens or hundreds of millions trying to select the handful of murderers who will receive death sentences, a contrary decision in Kennedy would have vastly complicated the task of death penalty administration. Anyone who raped and murdered a child could still be put to death, but the justice system would now have to sift through the much larger number of child rapes that did not result in death—isolating the handful thought to be worse than all but the very worst murders. The Court implicitly recognized that the added millions of dollars invested in such a fruitless effort might well be spent on measures that could reduce the numbers of these horrible crimes or ease the pain of their victims.

But while Justice Kennedy’s intuitions were correct on this point, the numbers were far more compelling than those he presented. Kennedy cited a survey finding that approximately 5,702 instances of rape of a child under age 12 had been reported nationwide in 2005. In all likelihood, he considerably understated the true numbers.

Based on a survey of a dozen states, the Department of Justice has calculated that some 16 percent of rape victims are younger than 12. (The department does not routinely collect statistics for victims under 12, chiefly because children at such ages “cannot be reliably interviewed,” but the states in the survey reported in sufficient detail to distinguish juvenile from adult rape victims.) Coupling that estimate to findings in the 2005 National Crime Victimization Survey implies that roughly 36,500 children under 12 were victims of rape. By comparison, 16,740 murders took place that year.

If we include both reported and unreported incidents, the annual number of child rapes may thus exceed Justice Kennedy’s estimate by at least a factor of six.

The Court’s decision, consequently, forestalls the costly and ultimately ineffectual legal haggling that would take place over an immense new body of death-eligible cases.

Since 1976, when the death penalty was revived after a four-year moratorium, the U.S. has averaged roughly 20,000 homicides per year. In whittling down to the 50 to 100 of that group who will be executed—a process that entails years and perhaps decades of legal wrangling—prosecutors and juries engage in highly discretionary decision-making, and there is much evidence that the process is marred by arbitrariness and racial discrimination.

Louisiana’s previous history with executing rapists bears such markings of discrimination. Between 1930 and 1967, Louisiana put 14 rapists to death. All 14 were black. (Before last month’s Supreme Court ruling, Louisiana was the only state since 1964 to have issued a death sentence for the rape of a child.)

While the opponents of the Supreme Court decision in Kennedy are heartened by the 2006 change in the military code concerning child rape, the case of the last person to die for this crime by military execution is not encouraging. Pvt. John Arthur Bennett, a black man, had raped a white girl in Austria, which had all but outlawed the death penalty. Despite pleas from the victim and her family to spare his life, Bennett was hanged in 1961. His case stands as the only military execution for rape during peacetime. During his six years on military death row, ten others were also awaiting military execution: all six black soldiers were hanged; all four of the white men, some of whom had committed multiple murders, were spared the death penalty.

When thousands of criminals who rape and murder—or those who commit multiple killings—do not receive the death penalty, how can rape alone, as terrible and unconscionable as it is, constitute the worst of the worst? Should severe cases of violence toward children be included among death-eligible cases as well? (As Justice Samuel A. Alito Jr. noted in his dissenting opinion, there were approximately 90,000 substantiated cases of child sexual abuse in 2003.) In the early 1980s, a Wisconsin father repeatedly beat his young son so brutally that the boy suffered severe brain damage, partial paralysis, and profound mental retardation. (The lax supervision of the state’s social workers in the face of this abuse led to a civil suit eventually by the Supreme Court.) The father, Randy DeShaney, was sentenced to two to four years in prison and is now a free man. The son, Joshua, is still alive and is confined to an adult care facility. The disparity between Randy DeShaney’s brief prison stay and the death sentence leveled in Kennedy v. Louisiana is, to say the least, striking.

More than four decades have passed since the last U.S. execution for rape or any other non-homicide offense, and cultural attitudes toward race and toward the death penalty have no doubt changed. But arbitrariness and racial discrimination continue to dog the administration of capital punishment. Small wonder that the Court majority was not enthusiastic about creating an even larger class of death-eligible cases.

Even if we executed as many child rapists as we did murderers—there were 98 executions in 1999, the most in any year in more than half a century—narrowing down some 36,000 incidents of child rape to the 100 most egregious would prove a taxing and largely ineffective gesture. The number of death-eligible cases would conceivably grow even larger if legislators in states such as Louisiana moved to expand the reach of their rape statutes beyond age 12 (as Louisiana did in 2006 when it raised the age ceiling to 13). If the death penalty is not reserved strictly for the very worst murders, where else might demagoguing state legislatures ultimately decide to extend it? Defining such a vast array of crimes as death eligible will in practice be little more than a costly, standardless, and highly unusual exercise in lethal sentencing.

Conceivably, the concerns about discrimination, arbitrariness, and the waste of scarce judicial resources could be overcome if the death penalty lessened the incidence of child rape, but there is no reason to believe that capital punishment will be any more successful in reducing child rapes than it is in deterring murder. As Justice John Paul Stevens noted earlier this year in his concurrence to Baze v. Rees, “Despite 30 years of empirical research in the area, there remains no reliable statistical evidence that capital pun­ishment in fact deters potential offenders.” Sadly, Justice Antonin Scalia, who seems to value empirical claims not according to their foundation in credible social science but rather by their conformity to his ideological beliefs, disputed Justice Stevens’s unquestionably accurate statement, mis-citing a paper by Cass R. Sunstein and Adrian Vermeule. Sunstein has now responded, in an article co-authored with Justin Wolfers, that “the best reading of the accumulated data is that they do not establish a deterrent effect of the death penalty.”

In last month’s opinion, Justice Kennedy raised an additional concern about the Louisiana statute that, again, proves still more troubling once we consider the problem’s full statistical extent. He worried that enlisting a child victim in a years-long capital punishment prosecution “forces a moral choice on the child, who is not of mature age to make that choice.” The dilemma may often be even more pressing than Justice Kennedy imagines:roughly 20 percent of child rape victims under age 12 are raped by their own father. Do we want these poor young victims to carry the weight not only of their traumatic experiences, but also of their legal involvement with the death of a parent? Untold resources are spent deciding which vile crimes merit the death penalty, when equally serious crimes avoid this sanction. A wiser choice could be to invest those resources in providing aid to victims and working to prevent repetitions of these awful crimes.

Having avoided the legal mayhem of adding a new realm of death penalty prosecutions, the country can now focus its efforts on solving, instead of creating, vexing social problems. The Court’s ruling should encourage legislators to take serious steps to address the abuse of children in all its many tragic and damaging forms, rather than to grandstand with death penalty laws whose implementation will certainly be highly unusual if not cruel.

John J. Donohue III is the Leighton Homer Surbeck Professor of Law at Yale Law School and a research associate at the National Bureau of Economic Research. Daniel Schuker is a researcher at Yale Law School.

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