From the summary of Constitutional Authority Statements and the Powers of Congress: An Overview (R44729, Mar. 11, 2019):

On January 5, 2011, the House of Representatives adopted an amendment to House Rule XII to require that Members state the constitutional basis for Congress’s power to enact the proposed legislation when introducing a bill or joint resolution. (The amendment does not pertain to concurrent or simple resolutions). This Constitutional Authority Statement (CAS) rule, found at House Rule XII, clause 7(c), was subsequently adopted by every subsequent Congress.

A CAS is fundamentally a congressional interpretation of the Constitution, in that House Rule XII requires each Member introducing a piece of legislation to attach a statement that cites the power(s) that allows Congress to enact the legislation.

From the introduction to The Emoluments Clauses of the U.S. Constitution (IF11086, Jan. 30, 2019):

Recent litigation involving President Trump has raised a number of legal issues concerning formerly obscure constitutional provisions that prohibit the acceptance or receipt of “emoluments” in certain circumstances. This In Focus provides an overview of these constitutional provisions, highlighting several unsettled legal areas concerning their meaning and scope, and reviewing the status of ongoing litigation against President Trump based on alleged violations of the Emoluments Clauses.

From the abstract for Julian Davis Mortenson, Article II Vests Executive Power, Not the Royal Prerogative, Columbia Law Review, Forthcoming:

Article II of the United States Constitution vests “the executive power” in the President. For more than two hundred years, advocates of presidential power have claimed that this phrase was originally understood to include a bundle of national security and foreign affairs authorities. Their efforts have been highly successful: among constitutional originalists, this so-called Vesting Clause Thesis is now conventional wisdom. But it is also demonstrably wrong.

Based on an exhaustive review of the eighteenth-century bookshelf, this article shows that the ordinary meaning of “executive power” referred unambiguously to a single, discrete, and potent authority: the power to execute law. This enforcement role was constitutionally crucial. Substantively, however, it extended only to the implementation of legal norms created by some other authority. It wasn’t just that the executive power was subject to legislative influence in a crude political sense; rather, the power was conceptually an empty vessel until there were laws or instructions that needed executing.

There was indeed a term of art for the Crown’s non-statutory powers, including its various national security and foreign affairs authorities. But as a matter of well-established legal semantics, that term was “prerogative.” The other elements of prerogative—including those relating to national security and foreign affairs— were possessed in addition to “the executive power” rather than as part of it.

From the abstract for Joel K. Goldstein, Talking Trump and the Twenty-Fifth Amendment: Correcting the Record on Section 4, 21 Journal of Constitutional Law ___ (2018):

The first year of the presidency of Donald J. Trump brought attention to Section 4 of the Twenty-fifth Amendment, the constitutional provision that allows the Vice President and a Cabinet majority to transfer presidential powers and duties from a President who is “unable to discharge the powers and duties” of his office. Although the ensuing media discussion included many thoughtful contributions, it also produced many mistaken assertions by scholars, journalists and other commentators regarding the importance, scope, operation, and effect of Section 4. These mistakes are troubling because they may produce enduring misunderstanding regarding a provision designed to handle some of the most challenging, traumatic and contentious contingencies that might arise involving an incapacitated President and the transfer of presidential powers and duties to the Vice President. The errors also might provide material for political actors and their supporters to cite and use opportunistically to frustrate the proper use of Section 4. This Article exposes and corrects some of the mistaken assertions that have recently appeared in media discussions. It explores a range of textual, originalist, structural, pragmatic, and other constitutional arguments to shed light on significant, but sometimes misunderstood, questions regarding the importance, scope, operation, and effect of Section 4.

From the abstract for Andrew Kent, Ethan J. Leib & Jed Handelsman Shugerman, ‘Faithful Execution’ and Article II, Harvard Law Review, Forthcoming:

Article II of the U.S. Constitution twice imposes a duty of “faithful execution” on the President, who must “take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed,” and take an oath or affirmation to “faithfully execute the Office of President.” These clauses are cited often, but their background and original meaning have never been fully explored. Courts, the executive branch, and many scholars rely on one or both clauses as support for expansive views of presidential power, for example, to go beyond standing law to defend the nation in emergencies; to withhold documents from Congress or the courts; or to refuse to fully execute statutes on grounds of unconstitutionality or for policy reasons.

This Article is the first to explore the textual roots of these clauses from the time of Magna Carta and medieval England, through colonial America, and up to the original meaning in the Philadelphia Convention and ratification debates. We find that the language of “faithful execution” was for centuries before 1787 very commonly associated with the performance of public and private offices—especially those in which the officer had some control over the public fisc. “Faithful execution” language applied not only to senior government officials but also to a vast number of insignificant officers, too. We contend that it imposed three core requirements on officeholders:

(1) diligent, careful, good faith, and impartial execution of law or office;

(2) a duty not to misuse an office’s funds and or take unauthorized profits; and

(3) a duty not to act ultra vires, beyond the scope of one’s office.

These three duties of fidelity look a lot like fiduciary duties in modern private law. This “fiduciary” reading of the original meaning of the Faithful Execution Clauses might have important implications in modern constitutional law. Our history supports readings of Article II of the Constitution that limit presidents to exercise their power in good faith, for the public interest, and not for reasons of self-dealing, self-protection, or other bad faith, personal reasons. So understood, Article II may thus place some limits on the pardon and removal powers, for example. The history we present also supports readings of Article II that tend to subordinate presidential power to congressional direction, limiting presidential non-enforcement of statutes for policy and perhaps even constitutional reasons, and perhaps constraining agencies’ interpretation of statutes to pursue Congress’s objectives. Our conclusions undermines imperial and prerogative claims for the presidency, claims that are sometimes, in our estimation, improperly traced to dimensions of the clauses requiring faithful execution.

From the blurb for Jonathan Gienapp, The Second Creation: Fixing the American Constitution in the Founding Era (Belknap Press, Oct. 2018):

Americans widely believe that the United States Constitution was created when it was drafted in 1787 and ratified in 1788. But in a shrewd rereading of the founding era, Jonathan Gienapp upends this long-held assumption, recovering the unknown story of American constitutional creation in the decade after its adoption—a story with explosive implications for current debates over constitutional originalism and interpretation.

When the Constitution first appeared, it was shrouded in uncertainty. Not only was its meaning unclear, but so too was its essential nature. Was the American Constitution a written text, or something else? Was it a legal text? Was it finished or unfinished? What rules would guide its interpretation? Who would adjudicate competing readings? As political leaders put the Constitution to work, none of these questions had answers. Through vigorous debates they confronted the document’s uncertainty, and—over time—how these leaders imagined the Constitution radically changed. They had begun trying to fix, or resolve, an imperfect document, but they ended up fixing, or cementing, a very particular notion of the Constitution as a distinctively textual and historical artifact circumscribed in space and time. This means that some of the Constitution’s most definitive characteristics, ones which are often treated as innate, were only added later and were thus contingent and optional.

Here’s the abstract for William Baude & Jud Campbell, Early American Constitutional History: A Source Guide (Oct. 31, 2018): “This is a concise guide to source materials relevant to late 18th-century and early 19th-century constitutional history in the United States, often with accompanying reflections about using these sources in historical and legal scholarship. The guide aims to be useful to those who are just entering the field as well as to more established historians and lawyers who want to keep up with newly available sources.” Recommended.

Just in time for President Trump’s attack on birthright citizenship: Ernest A. Young has posted Dying Constitutionalism and the Fourteenth Amendment, which is forthcoming in the Marquette Law Review:

The notion of a “living Constitution” often rests on an implicit assumption that important constitutional values will “grow” in such a way as to make the Constitution more attractive over time. But there are no guarantees: What can grow can also wither and die. This essay, presented as the 2018 Robert F. Boden Lecture at Marquette University Law School, marks the sesquicentennial of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification as a powerful charter of liberty and equality for black Americans. But for much of its early history, the Fourteenth Amendment’s meaning moved in reverse, overwhelmed by the end of Reconstruction, the gradual entrenchment of Jim Crow in the South, and the consolidation of racial discrimination in the North. All of the recognized modalities of living constitutionalism—evolving public mores, social movements, electoral outcomes and landmark legislation, and common law development—contributed to constitutional changes that left the Fourteenth Amendment meaning less in the late 19th and early 20th centuries than it did at its ratification. The Amendment’s early history is thus an instance of dying—not living— constitutionalism. It is far from clear, however, that alternative constitutional approaches—such as originalism—could have prevented this constitutional regression. This essay explores how the Fourteenth Amendment got so off track and whether the theory of living constitutionalism can be modified to help it hang on to the Constitution’s core commitments in the face of social change. Ultimately, the essay suggests that constitutional methodology may be less important than constitutional culture in this regard, and that the culture of living constitutionalism ought to emphasize caution over optimism about the inevitability of moral progress. The Fourteenth Amendment’s “lost years” offer precisely the sense of tragedy that might inspire that cultural shift.

Trump called for ending birthright citizenship in his immigration platform during the presidential campaign. Now he has announced that he can achieve that objective by executive order.

Can Trump ban the right to citizenship for babies of non-citizens and unauthorized immigrants born on U.S. soil? The legal challenges would force the courts to decide on a constitutional debate over the 14th Amendment. The 14th Amendment, ratified in 1868, states: “All persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” For more, see Experts weigh in on Trump’s ability to end birthright citizenship on Axios.

Drawing Trump Naked: Curbing the Right of Publicity to Protect Portrayals of Real People, Maryland Law Review, Forthcoming, by Thomas Kadri “argues that to best protect creators and their expressive works under the First Amendment, we must abandon traditional “educative” listener-based models of the First Amendment and instead adopt an approach that also protects the speaker-creator as a central part of enabling public discourse. Failure to adopt this speaker-focused theory in publicity doctrine will perpetuate confusion in the courts and state legislatures, an outcome that will have a chilling effect on creators who seek to portray real people in their work. Yet we must also recognize the privacy interests that publicity rights may serve. As we move into an era of new technology and innovation — from “deep fakes” to revenge porn — this challenge will only intensify. To address it, courts should apply a different framework when publicity rights face off against expressive rights — a framework that not only empowers free expression, but also considers the narrow privacy-based interests that we should all have in preventing certain uses of our images.”

Here is the abstract for Jack Balkin’s The First Amendment in the Second Gilded Age (Buffalo Law Review, 2019 Forthcoming):

How do we pay for the digital public sphere? In the Second Gilded Age, the answer is primarily through digital surveillance and through finding ever new ways to make money out of personal data. Digital capitalism in the Second Gilded Age features an implicit bargain: a seemingly unlimited freedom to speak in exchange for the right to surveil and manipulate end users.

To protect freedom of speech in the Second Gilded Age we must distinguish the values of free speech from the judicially created doctrines of the First Amendment. That is because the practical freedom to speak online depends on a privately owned and operated infrastructure of digital communication to which the First Amendment does not apply. As a result, the protection of digital free expression has increasingly begun to detach from the judicial doctrines of the First Amendment. This makes the First Amendment increasingly irrelevant to protecting digital speech. Indeed, in the Second Gilded Age, the judicially created doctrines of First Amendment law become most important as potential obstacles to reform. They create constitutional difficulties for attempts to regulate private infrastructure owners in order to protect free speech values and personal privacy.

Protecting freedom of speech in the Second Gilded Age requires us to focus on the political economy of digital speech: how we pay for the digital public sphere, the dangers the digital political economy creates for end users, and the kinds of reforms that would best protect their interests in speech and privacy.

This essay uses the Facebook/Cambridge Analytica scandal of March 2018 to explain how the conditions that make free speech possible have changed from the twentieth to the twenty-first centuries. That controversy is a characteristic scandal of the Second Gilded Age because it centers on how digital infrastructure companies make their money and how they affect the public sphere in the process. The scandal also highlights a central problem for freedom of speech in the Second Gilded Age: Digital privacy undergirds our freedom of expression, but the way we pay for freedom of expression perpetually threatens our digital privacy and subjects us to dangers of manipulation and overreaching.

The great irony is that an era that promised unbounded opportunities for freedom of expression is also an era of increasing digital control and surveillance. The same technological advances allow both results. The essay concludes by briefly introducing a reform proposal advocated in my previous work: that we should consider digital media companies as information fiduciaries who have duties of care, confidentiality, and loyalty toward their end users.

From the abstract for Jane R. Bambauer & Derek E. Bambauer, Information Libertarianism, 105 California Law Review 335 (2017):

Recent First Amendment precedent is widely attacked as unprincipled: a deregulatory judicial agenda disguised as free speech protection. The scholarly consensus is mistaken. Descriptively, free speech protections scrutinize only information regulation, usefully pushing government to employ more direct regulations with fewer collateral consequences. Even an expansive First Amendment is compatible with the regulatory state, rather than being inherently libertarian. Normatively, courts should be skeptical when the state tries to design socially-beneficial censorship.

This Article advances a structural theory that complements classic First Amendment rationales, arguing that information libertarianism has virtues that transcend political ideology. Regulating information is peculiarly difficult to do well. Cognitive biases cause regulators to systematically overstate risks of speech and to discount its benefits. Speech is strong in its capacity to change behavior, yet politically weak. It is a popular scapegoat for larger societal problems and an attractive tool for rent-seeking interest groups. Collective action, public choice, and government entrenchment problems arise frequently. First Amendment safeguards provide a vital counterpressure. Information libertarianism encourages government to regulate conduct directly because when the state censors communication, the results are often counterproductive. A robust First Amendment deserves support regardless of ideology.

From the abstract for Sonja West, Suing the President for First Amendment Violations, 71 Oklahoma Law Review ___ (2018):

On any given day, it seems, President Donald Trump can be found attacking, threatening, or punishing the press and other individuals whose speech he dislikes. His actions, moreover, inevitably raise the question: Do any of these individuals or organizations (or any future ones) have a viable claim against the President for violating their First Amendment rights?

One might think that the ability to sue the President for violation of the First Amendment would be relatively settled. The answer, however, is not quite that straightforward. Due to several unique qualities about the First Amendment and the presidency, it is not entirely clear if or how citizens can hold the President responsible for violating their expressive rights.

This Essay explores some of the potential obstacles facing a person or organization bringing a First Amendment lawsuit against the President such as whether the President can violate the First Amendment at all and how a plaintiff might recover for that violation. It concludes by suggesting a few possible approaches to this problem that could help clarify and secure the rights of all Americans to seek justice—even against the President—if their freedoms of speech and press are violated.

— Joe

The 25th Amendment to the United States Constitution deals with issues related to presidential succession and disability. It was submitted to the states on July 6, 1965, by the 89th Congress and was adopted on February 10, 1967. Did The Caine Mutiny (1954 film) shape the meaning of the 25th Amendment?

This Washington Post article explains that some of the drafters of the 25th Amendment looked to The Caine Mutiny and Captain Queeg as examples of what Section Four of the amendment should not permit because the 25th Amendment was not meant for a case where reasonable people could disagree about whether the leader was mentally ill.

Interesting. — Joe

The Senate unanimously passed a resolution Thursday declaring “the press is not the enemy of the people.” The resolution, introduced by Sen. Brian Schatz (D-HI), Senate Democratic Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY), and Sen. Richard Blumenthal (D-CT), reaffirms the Senate’s commitment to the Constitution’s declaration of the freedom of the press. According to the resolution, the Senate “views efforts to systematically undermine the credibility of the press as an attack on the democratic institutions of the United States.” — Joe

Here’s the abstract for Steven G. Calabresi’s Opinion on the Constitutionality of Robert Mueller’s Appointment (2018):

I argue in this Legal Opinion that Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein’s appointment of Robert Mueller is unconstitutional both under the test for officer inferiority set forth in Justice Scalia’s opinion in Edmond v. United States, which is cited as good authority in Free Enterprise Fund v. PCAOB and also under the test for officer inferiority set forth in Chief Justice Rehnquist’s majority opinion in Morrison v. Olson. Under both tests, Mueller is acting as a principal officer even though he has not been nominated by the President and confirmed by the Senate. Mueller’s appointment is therefore unconstitutional.

H/T Criminal Law Prof Blog. — Joe

Here’s the response to Trump’s White House counsel by a group of prominent ConLawProfs. Their conclusion:

The Office of the President is not a get out of jail free card for lawless behavior. Indeed, our country’s Founders made it clear in the Declaration of Independence that they did not believe that even a king had such powers; they specifically cited King George’s obstruction of justice as among the “injuries and usurpations” that justified independence. Our Founders would not have created–and did not create–a Constitution that would permit the President to use his powers to violate the laws for corrupt and self-interested reasons. In sum, both Article II and the criminal laws of this country forbid the president from engaging in corrupt and self-dealing conduct, even when exercising Article II powers to execute the laws.

H/T Constitutional Law Prof Blog. — Joe

From the abstract for Gregory E. Maggs’ A Critical Guide to Using the Legislative History of the Fourteenth Amendment to Determine the Amendment’s Original Meaning, 49 Conn. L. Rev. 1069 (2017):

Judges, lawyers, and scholars often look to the Fourteenth Amendment’s legislative history for evidence of the Amendment’s original meaning. Members of the Supreme Court, for instance, have cited floor statements, committee records, preliminary proposals, and other documents relating to the drafting and approval of the Fourteenth Amendment in many important cases. The documents containing this legislative history, however, are difficult to use. As explained in this Article, the Amendment came about through a complex process, in which Congress rejected several prior proposals for constitutional amendments before settling on a markedly different proposal that became the Fourteenth Amendment. Although the primary sources containing the legislative history are widely available online, some of them lack useful indexes and are only partially electronically searchable. In addition, statements made during the drafting and debate over the Fourteenth Amendment do not always yield clear answers to modern questions. Aggravating the situation, most lawyers, judges, law clerks, and legal scholars receive little or no instruction on how to use the documents containing the legislative history of the Fourteenth Amendment. Accordingly, they may feel unequipped either to use the legislative history to make claims about the Amendment’s original meaning or to evaluate the claims of others. Even the Supreme Court appears to have difficulty with the details. This Article seeks to improve the situation by providing a critical guide to the Amendment’s legislative history.

— Joe