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May 11, 2012

What Does the Pew Research Center’s Recent Survey Showing an Historically Low Favorability Rating of the Supreme Court Tell Us?

This entry is cross-posted from Justia.com.

Last week, the Pew Research Center released results of new polling data showing the percentage of adult Americans who hold a favorable view of the Supreme Court (52%) is at a 25-year low.  In the space below, I drill into the numbers a bit more deeply, and offer some speculative explanations for the diminishing public assessment of the Court.

Details of the Pew Survey

There are at least three noteworthy, and related, numerical trends imbedded in the Pew data about reduced respect for the Court.  First, although a graph of attitudes does not depict a straight line-but instead features some zigzagging from year to year-a significant general downward drift has been taking place for over a decade.  Between 2001 (when the approval rating was around 70%) and the present, the direction has been decidedly negative.  In the seven periodic survey readings from early 2001 until the middle of 2006, the rating was in the 50s only once; in the seven survey readings since, it has been in the 50s four times, including in each of the last three readings since early 2009.  So what we see is a descendent trend over the last 10 or 11 years, with a further pronounced drop-off over the last three years.

Second, and somewhat unexpectedly, today there are, as the survey press release says, "virtually no partisan differences in the views of the Supreme Court:  56% of Republicans, and 52% of both Democrats and independents rate the Supreme Court favorably."  And it is really a drop in Republican approval numbers that has closed the partisan gap (and accounted for the low overall numbers); while favorability among Democrats has bounced around over the last decade, the decline in approval by Republicans has been particularly sharp and salient.

Third, and relatedly, the Court is no longer necessarily viewed more favorably by the party that controls the White House.  During the Clinton years, Democrats viewed the Court more favorably than did Republicans.  During the George W. Bush years, Republicans viewed the Court more favorably than did Democrats.  (And this partisan correlation between respondent attitudes and control of the White House was also present during the Reagan and George H. W. Bush years.)  But during the Obama years, neither Democrats nor Republicans have registered a consistently higher view of the Court.

What are we to make of all this?  It's hard to know, since the survey asks only bottom-line questions about the degree of a respondent's favorable impression of the Court, and not questions about what the respondent thinks is driving the bottom-line impression.  To be sure, part of the downhill slope may be explained by a dislike and distrust of government at all levels and in all forms, and perhaps also by an even broader angst about whether America and its economic, social and legal institutions are still worthy of our faith.

One Possible Partial Explanation for the Survey Results:  The Perception That the Court is No Different, and No Better, Than (the Dreaded) Congress

But beyond this general distrust of powerful American institutions, I think there are a number of other factors at play over the last decade or so that bear on the observed trends.  First, the Supreme Court has been thrust (or sometimes inserted itself) into particularly high-profile partisan disputes in a way that makes it hard for some observers to see how the Court is different from the more overtly partisan actors on Capitol Hill.  Bush v. Gore (resolving the 2000 presidential election) is one important example, and the challenges to the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare) is another.  The fact that all five Justices in the majority in Bush v. Gore were Republican appointees, and the possibility that the Obamacare cases might split 5-4 perfectly along Republican appointee/Democratic appointee lines (although I very much hope that doesn't come to pass), serve to reinforce the notion that the Court is no different from, and no more principled than, Congress.  Even if Bush v. Gore didn't seem to do long-lasting harm to the Court's image in 2001 and 2002, when people today are reminded of it in connection with the Obamacare cases, the bad feelings that it generated come rushing back.

Of course, most of the Court's cases are not resolved 5-4 along partisan lines (and, indeed, a big percentage of Court rulings are unanimous).  But the cases that (rightly) get enormous play in the media-the cases on which momentous things (like Presidential election results and the fate of the most significant statute to be passed in a generation) turn-do tend to break down 5-4 along these lines.  It's hard for my constitutional law students, let alone non-lawyers, to believe me when I tell them that elegant ideas, lofty principles and doctrinal niceties matter when what folks observe is a very high percentage of monster cases getting resolved along partisan lines.

And this super-partisan perception may be more acute today than in recent decades, because currently all the Justices on the Court who were appointed by a Republican President are markedly more conservative than all the Justices who were appointed by Democrats.  (That wasn't true when Justices White, Blackmun, Souter or Stevens were still on the Court.)

Interestingly enough, when the Court seems no less partisan and outcome-driven than Congress, even the "winners" in the Court in the overwhelming majority of big cases (Republicans) may come to disrespect the Court, since they so disrespect the Congress to which the Court is likened.  (Much ink has been spilled on the historically abysmal approval ratings for Congress.)

A Second (Related) Partial Explanation for the Survey Results:  The Court has Done Itself No Favors in the Confirmation Process

Related to this first observation is the way the Justices have come across publicly when they have gone through the Senate confirmation processes over the last decade.  After 11 years of personnel stability, the Court received two new members (Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Alito) during the 2005-2006 Term, and two more (Justices Sotomayor and Kagan) since then.  These confirmation processes included widely televised proceedings and featured some self-inflicted wounds by the nominees.  For Chief Justice Roberts, it was his roundly denounced and overly simplistic baseball umpire metaphor, and for Justice Sotomayor, it was her having to deal with an ill-phrased reference in a past speech to the virtues of decisions made by a "wise Latina."

Perhaps more damaging than these inapt analogies or careless phrases, though, is the fact that the nominees have largely avoided answering most of the meaningful questions posed by Senators in the hearings-specific questions about specific cases in specific areas of the law.  The record of recent confirmations shows innumerable instances of the Senate allowing the nominees simply not to answer because a question asks for specific views on specific matters.  I have elsewhere written at length that such specific questions are necessary and proper to educate the Senate and the nation about whether a nominee ought to be confirmed, but when nominees bob and weave and end up coming off no different than the politicians who are asking the questions, or any other politician called to testify before a committee, the public can't help but lump everyone together for purposes of poxes on houses.

Some Other Reasons for the Survey Results, Having to Do with Republican Respondents in Particular

None of what I've said above fully and directly addresses the somewhat puzzling displeasure of Republican respondents in particular.  After all, the Supreme Court over the last dozen years has exhibited a track record that is solidly conservative when compared to most eras of American history.  When one thinks about the blockbuster rulings of recent years-Bush v. Gore, the Citizens United ruling invalidating campaign finance reform, the Heller ruling recognizing individual gun rights, the Van Orden v. Perry case permitting explicitly scriptural (10 Commandments) displays in public places-one has the general sense that the Supreme Court has for Republicans been somewhat like Burger King, a place where they have had it their way.

Why, then, the Republican negativity?  I think the answer is at least twofold.  First, it is human nature to remember losses, sometimes more than victories.  And Republicans may feel frustrated by the decisions the Court has issued in some key social-issue-cases over the last decade-e.g., Lawrence v. Texas (upholding liberty to engage in homosexual activity), Grutter v. Bollinger (permitting race-based affirmative action), Stenberg v. Carhart (continuing to recognize abortion rights), and Roper v. Simmons (invalidating the death penalty for 17-year-old wrongdoers)-in which the five-member conservative majority didn't quite hold (because Justice O'Connor and/or Justice Kennedy went the other way.)

Second, victory is itself, of course, a relative concept.  The reality may be that the Republican Party's movement to the Right has been faster and more consistent than even the Supreme Court's.  So, for example, the Republican reaction to Heller may not have been "Hurray," so much as "What took so long?" and "Exactly how many gun regulations does this strike down?"  As savvy veteran political scientists Thomas Mann and Norman Ornstein have recently put the point, albeit in stronger and more colorful terms than I would:  "The GOP has become an insurgent outlier in American politics. It is ideologically extreme; scornful of compromise; unmoved by conventional understanding of facts, evidence and science; and dismissive of the legitimacy of its . . . opposition."  If Mann and Ornstein's characterization is remotely descriptive of the attitude held by even a significant minority of Republicans (and the percentage of Republicans in some states who say they believe the President is not a citizen, or not a Christian, suggests Mann and Ornstein do have a point), then no conservative victories at the Court are going to seem to be enough:  Striking down Obamacare on reasoning that leaves Romneycare, or the Fed, for that matter,  intact would result in a half-empty glass at best.

In the end, then, the most striking aspect of the Pew survey on the Court-the fall from Republican grace-may say as much about the Republican party today as it does about the Court.

May 10, 2012

Madhavi Sunder's Important New Book Now Available for Pre-Order

Most scholarship on intellectual property considers this law from the standpoint of law and economics. Under this conventional wisdom, intellectual property is simply a tool for promoting innovative products, from iPods to R2D2. In this highly original book Madhavi Sunder calls for a richer understanding of intellectual property law’s effects on social and cultural life. Intellectual property does more than incentivize the production of more goods. This law fundamentally affects the ability of citizens to live a good life. Intellectual property law governs the abilities of human beings to make and share culture, and to profit from this enterprise in a global Knowledge economy. This book turns to social and cultural theory to more fully explore the deep connections between cultural production and human freedom.

Should be available on May 21, 2012--Order here.


May 5, 2012

Overlooking (even seemingly high profile) rural crimes

Americans are often said to have a love-hate relationship with rural America. On the one hand, many wax nostalgic about the good old days, simpler times, the bond of "rural community" that many of our grandparents once lived, even if most of "us" grew up in the city. Plus, most everyone enjoys a bit of time spent in "nature," and some even realize--the urban ag craze aside--that most of our food is grown "in the country." On the other hand, urbanites often hold rural people in disdain, mocking them for their attachment to place, their regressive politics and culture and, yes, even for their nostalgia.

One particular aspect of the "love" (more precisely, nostalgia) with which we may regard rural America is the tendency to think that bad things associated with cities--most notably crime--are largely absent in smaller towns, in nonmetropolitan areas. That's hardly accurate, as I've discussed here and here. I wonder, though, if these rural myths are the reason that even more shocking crimes in rural settings--crimes involving, for example, racial or ethnic animus--don't get national attention. For crimes like these, I would think that urban Americans might be anxious to publicize the crimes, to hold these acts up as justification for the "hate" (that is, disdain, contempt) part of the relationship.

I was reminded of all this last week when the New York Times ran a story headlined, "Black Man's Killing in Georgia Eludes Spotlight," dateline Lyons, Georgia, population 4,169. Kim Severson's story tells of a white man, Norman Neesmith, killing a black man, Justin Patterson, in Lyons last year "on a rural farm road, here in in onion country." Neesmith was arrested and charged with seven crimes, but he is expected to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter and reckless conduct, for which he might be sentenced to just a year in "special detention," which means no jail time. Severson goes on to compare the rural Georgia case to that of Trayvon Martin, which has attracted national and international attention:

In both cases, an unarmed young black man died at the hands of someone of a different race.

And [Justin Patterson's parents] began to wonder why no one was marching for their son, why people like Rev. Al Sharpton had not booked a ticket to Toombs County. The local chapter of the N.A.A.C.P has not gotten involved, although Mr. Patterson's farther approached them.

* * *

Why some cases with perceived racial implications catch the national consciousness and others do not is as much about the combined power of social and traditional media as it is about happenstance, said Ta-Nehisi Coates, a senior editor at The Atlantic who writes about racial issues.

Several events coalesced to push the Martin case forward: an apparently incomplete police investigation, no immediate arrest and Florida's expansive self-defense law.

The New York Times' highlighting the overlooked Patterson case reminded me of another pair of cases last year that received grossly disparate media attention.

I learned quite by accident last summer of a federal conviction based on a 2010 hate crime in Carroll County, Arkansas. It was especially odd to learn of the conviction by coincidence (from a UC Davis colleague whose distant relative in Arkansas sat on the jury!) because this was the first ever conviction ever under the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act, a federal law passed in 2009. Here's what happened: After encountering each other at a gas station in Alpena, Arkansas (population 371) in the early morning hours in June 2010, three white men allegedly hurled racial epithets at five Latinos and then chased the Latinos in their car, while the white driver of the truck chasing them waved a tire wrench out his vehicle's window. The truck driven by the white men eventually ran the Latinos' car off the road, where it rolled over and burst into flames. All of the Latinos were injured, one very seriously, but all survived. Less than a year later, a jury in a federal courthouse in Harrison, Arkansas--(population 12,943, about 20 miles from the events, and with a reputation as a long-time bastion of KKK activity) took less than an hour (!) to convict the driver of the truck, 20-year-old Frankie Maybee, of "five counts of committing a federal hate crime and one count of conspiring to commit a federal hate crime." One of his companions, 19-year-old Sean Popejoy, had already pleaded guilty to a single hate crime and a conspiracy count; he turned state's witness. The third man was not charged, apparently because of a lack of evidence that he was part of the conspiracy. (In an effort to learn more about Carroll County matter last summer, I interviewed the Arkansas State Trooper who had helped investigate it, as well as the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette journalist who reported on it. They provided some back story, which I'll take up in a subsequent post.)

Several months after the convictions in this case, it had not yet been discussed anywhere except in local media. The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette ran about half a dozen stories, starting in April, 2011, when the men were indicted, running through the trial itself, and ending with Maybee's sentencing to 11 years in prison, in September, 2011. Television stations in nearby Springfield, Missouri covered only the sentencing, and Reuters, too, had finally found the story by then. In that way, the Arkansas case is similar to another Shepard/Byrd Act indictment that preceded the Arkansas conviction, this one in Farmington, New Mexico involving the torture of a developmentally disabled Native American by white men. That case resulted in a guilty plea and was mentioned, along with other Shepard/Byrd cases, in this NPR story a few days ago. (Other NPR coverage of the Shepard/Byrd law, which also mentions the New Mexico case post-guilty plea, is here and here).

Contrast that with the Shepard/Byrd charges against the three young white men who recently pleaded guilty in the death of James C. Anderson, a black man in Jackson, Mississippi. New York Times coverage of that crime is here, here, here and here. The Mississippi story is, of course, a huge one and deserves all the attention it got. But the Carroll County story seems like a pretty big one, too (did I mention that it was the first Shepard/Byrd conviction!?!), as does the case out of Farmington, New Mexico.

What explains the disparate and decidedly after-the-fact media attention to these cases? Perhaps coincidence. Perhaps differences in the Department of Justice's efforts to publicize the charges. Perhaps the fact that the Mississippi crime resulted in death whereas the Arkansas and New Mexico crimes did not. But as a ruralist, I can help wonder if the rural-ish settings of these crimes also obscured them from the national media?

Carroll County has a population of just 27,446, of which 12.7% are of Latino or Hispanic origin. I know the area quite well because I grew up in a contiguous county, and I wrote a lot about Carroll County's three-decade history of Latina/o migration in my 2009 article, Latina/os, Locality and Law in the Rural South. In 2003, MALDEF entered into a settlement with the Rogers, Arkansas Police Department, in neighboring Benton County, to prevent racial profiling.

Farmington, New Mexico has a population of just over 45,000, but surrounding San Juan county is technically metropolitan, with a population of just over 130,000. Indian reservations comprise more than 60% of San Juan County's land area, and 36.6% of its populace are Native American. Farmington has been the subject of major civil rights investigations over the course of four decades.

Like the relations between blacks and whites in Mississippi, then, both Carroll County, Arkansas and San Juan County, New Mexico have histories of racial and ethnic tensions. I would think the racial/ethnic contexts of these two incidents would make them interesting to a national audience--as would they way they illustrate widely held perceptions of the "best" and "worst" of rural America. The "worst" is that the hate crimes occurred--which confirms the image of rural folks as small-minded and bigoted. The "best"--at least in the Arkansas case--is that a local jury of the defendant's peers convicted the small-minded bigot--and they did so in no time flat.

Cross posted to Legal Ruralism and SALTLaw Blog.

April 30, 2012

Public Perception and the Law in Arizona v. United States

Cross-posted from JURIST.com.

Last Wednesday, the US Supreme Court heard oral arguments in Arizona v. United States, the case challenging the constitutionality of the controversial Arizona immigration enforcement law known as SB 1070 [PDF]. This article will hazard a prediction about the outcome of the case, which might well be one of the Court's most significant immigration decisions in many years. It also will demonstrate how divergent the public debate is from the legal discourse about state immigration enforcement laws.

A Prediction

The US government filed suit to challenge Arizona's SB 1070, as it did with respect to Alabama and South Carolina copycats, on the grounds that it violates the Supremacy Clause of the US Constitution, which makes federal law the "supreme law of the land." The claim is that SB 1070 impermissibly intrudes on the federal power to regulate immigration and therefore is unconstitutional.

The US Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit agreed with the US government in striking down four provisions of SB 1070:

  1. Section 2(B), which requires state and local law enforcement to verify the immigration status of persons subject to a lawful stop, detention or arrest when the officers have a "reasonable suspicion ... that the person is an alien and is unlawfully present in the United States";
  2. Section 3, which would make it a crime under Arizona law, in addition to federal law, to fail to complete or carry an "alien registration document";
  3. Section 5(C), which would make it a crime for a person to apply for, solicit or perform work without proper immigration authorization; and
  4. Section 6, which would allow a police officer to arrest a person without a warrant if the officer has "probable cause to believe ... [t]he person ... has committed any public offense that makes the person removable from the United States."

The Ninth Circuit was unanimous in invalidating Section 3, which is directly contrary to Supreme Court precedent, see Hines v. Davidowitz. It also unanimously struck down Section 5(C), which criminalizes the conduct of undocumented employees and goes well beyond the civil sanctions that US immigration law allows to be imposed on undocumented workers. However, Judge Carlos Bea dissented from the majority's holding invalidating Sections 2(B) and 6, the two provisions involving state and local police enforcement of the US immigration laws.

Before the oral argument in Arizona v. United States, I suggested that a majority of the Supreme Court just might agree with Judge Bea and uphold two of the four provisions before it. The oral arguments have convinced me that a majority of the Court will in fact agree with Judge Bea. During the arguments, almost all of the eight justices participating in the case expressed agreement in whole or in part with his approach (Justice Elena Kagan recused herself from the case).

Surprisingly little questioning in the arguments centered on the Court's recent preemption decisions involving the US immigration laws. In De Canas v. Bica, the Court stated that the "[p]ower to regulate immigration is unquestionably exclusively a federal power." Although that language sounds clear, the Court proceeded to uphold a California law allowing for the imposition of sanctions on the employers of undocumented immigrants. Last year, in Chamber of Commerce v. Whiting, the Court reiterated federal supremacy over immigration ("Power to regulate immigration is unquestionably ... a federal power") but refused to disturb an Arizona law that allowed the state to strip the licenses of businesses that employ undocumented immigrants.

Rather than ask how its precedents applied to the case at hand, the justices' questions focused primarily on the operation of Section 2(B) of SB 1070, particularly how quickly Arizona police could check with US immigration authorities about the immigration status of a person. Appearing persuaded that such a check by local police would not be too time-consuming, the justices expressed skepticism about the US government's claim that Sections 2(B) and 6 were preempted by federal law. There was little discussion of Sections 3 and 5(C), but what limited discussion there was hinted that the justices believed that these sections were, as a unanimous Ninth Circuit concluded, unconstitutional.

Public Debate v. Legal Debate

While the Supreme Court argument centered on the power of the states to assist in the enforcement of the US immigration laws, many critics of the state immigration laws are less worried about state intrusion on federal power over immigration and much more concerned that the laws would encourage discrimination against Latinos, including lawful immigrants and US citizens. Specifically, the Arizona law (like many of the others) requires state and local law enforcement officers to verify the immigration status of person who they have a "reasonable suspicion" are undocumented.

Some observers claimed that SB 1070 would increase racial profiling of Latinos. The key question was how police would decide whether there was, as Section 2(B) provides, a "reasonable suspicion ... that the person is an alien and is unlawfully present in the United States." The fear is that "foreign-looking" people, especially Latinos, will bear the brunt of the mandatory immigration checks. Concerns with racial profiling contributed to the considerable public attention received by SB 1070 and Arizona v. United States.

As discussed above, the oral arguments focused on federal preemption law, not racial profiling. Counsel for the US government emphatically denied that racial profiling was at issue in the case. Counsel for the state of Arizona, as well as the justices, eagerly accepted that denial. The justices therefore did not ask questions about whether Section 2(B) of SB 1070 might result in the racial profiling of Latinos.

Unlike some of the other plaintiffs in related cases challenging the Arizona law, the US government had not made any claims that SB 1070 violates the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment because it was adopted with some kind of invidious discriminatory intent. Claims of discrimination will likely have to wait another day, with the issues possibly addressed in the other cases challenging SB 1070 or in a new challenge based on the application of Section 2(B) by police.

It should be readily apparent that there is a serious disconnect between the public debate over Arizona's SB 1070, as well as similar state immigration enforcement laws, and the legal arguments in the Court. This is not entirely surprising. Indeed, I predicted this outcome even before the Court granted certiorari in the case.

Despite the Court's focus on federal versus state power in the realm of immigration, serious civil rights concerns lurk in the background of the legal arguments in Arizona v. United States. Namely, Latinos and immigrants fear that SB 1070's mandate that state and local police check the immigration status of persons whom they "reasonably suspect" are undocumented, will result in racial profiling at levels never before seen. Those familiar with the civil rights record of Maricopa County, Arizona, Sheriff Joe Arpaio, who according to news reports may soon be indicted for criminal civil rights violations, know that this fear is real.

Unfortunately, if the Supreme Court decides the case as I predict, the public concerns will go unaddressed as a matter of law — at least for the time being. Still, the discontent with the ruling among some segments of the public will likely be palpable and result in sharp criticism.

Conclusion

The Supreme Court will likely reverse the Ninth Circuit and uphold two of the four provisions of Arizona's SB 1070 before it. The two that will be upheld will allow the state to require local police to check the immigration status of persons about whom they have a "reasonable suspicion" are undocumented. The Court's ruling will likely draw the ire of civil rights advocates and make clear the wide gulf between the federal and state power issues addressed by the Court and the civil rights concerns of certain segments of the public.

However the Court decides, Congress has the power to address the issues raised by Arizona v. United States. To justify SB 1070, Arizona political leaders contend that the US government is failing to enforce the immigration laws. It is hard to contend, however, that the Obama administration is not enforcing the law when it has deported more immigrants than any other administration in US history, including nearly 400,000 last year. In any event, the frustration with the current immigration system ultimately is for Congress, not the states, to address through comprehensive — and national — immigration reform, which could make clear the role, if any, of the states in immigration enforcement.

 

April 27, 2012

Five Free Speech Myths of Which College Demonstrators and Protestors Should Be Aware to Avoid Unexpected Trouble

Cross-posted from Justia's Verdict.

’Tis the season to be a college protestor.  With a momentous presidential election on the horizon, the Occupy Movement promising to kick into high gear again, and young adults facing uncertain job prospects and ever-increasing higher education costs and debt loads, students at campuses across the country are understandably seeking ways of demonstrating their deep discontent and anxiety about the status quo.

My own university—the University of California—has seen its share of unrest.  Protests at UC Berkeley, the birthplace of the so-called “free speech movement” in the 1960s, got ugly last fall, with police who were ostensibly trying to remove encampments using batons against students.  Things got out of hand here at UC Davis last fall too, with a campus police officer employing pepper spray against seated student protestors.

And more recently here at UC Davis, protestors—objecting to what they, at least, viewed as an example of the unhealthy privatization of higher education—obstructed access to a branch of a bank located on campus. (Many ardent advocates of higher education had no objection to the bank; the bank had leased space from the University to serve the campus community, and the lease would have provided two million dollars or more to the university over a 10-year period.)

After the blockades took place, notwithstanding repeated warnings from authorities that blockaders risked serious punishment, the university administration and campus police identified several students who had participated in the obstructive protests for prosecution by the County District Attorney, under state penal code sections making it a misdemeanor to willfully obstruct public walkways and places or to intentionally interfere with any lawful business. The bank provided evidence to the District Attorney’s office as well. Last month, 11 students and one faculty member were ordered to appear for booking and arraignment on misdemeanor charges of obstruction and conspiracy to commit a misdemeanor.

One of the things that has surprised me most about this episode and its aftermath is how many people—many of them sophisticated, well-educated folks—mistakenly believe that because the blockaders were obstructing the bank’s business for what they viewed as a righteous political reason, their actions were legally protected under constitutional principles of free speech.  In other words, many people are surprised to learn that the First Amendment permits punishment of this kind of expressive demonstration.  So in order to help students and other would-be protestors know when their activities will likely get them punished (so that protestors may then weigh, in an informed manner, the costs and benefits of proceeding), I offer five First Amendment myths that apparently need debunking:

Myth No. 1:  The Expressive Intent or Motive of the Protestor Is the Most Important Factor in Determining Whether His/Her Speech Can Constitutionally Be Prohibited

On rare occasions, people who are doing something to express a message—especially a political message—are immune from a regulatory law on account of their message and the particular place and time at which they need to express that message in order to be effective in communicating it.  And the Supreme Court has often said (for example, in last year’s funeral protestors case, Snyder v. Phelps) that speech about “matters of public concern” (e.g., public policies, elections, etc.) receives the highest level of First Amendment protection.

But just because you are involved in an expressive activity about something you think is important does not mean you have an automatic exemption from generally applicable laws that were passed, and are enforced, for reasons that are unrelated to the suppression of expression.  As one commentator (my brother, Yale Law Professor Akhil Amar) has put the point, The New York Times has no First Amendment license to ignore air pollution regulations.   And the U.S. Supreme Court itself has made the same kind of observation in a number of cases, perhaps most famously in United States v. O’Brien, where the Court upheld the prosecution of a Vietnam War protester who intentionally burned his government-issued official draft card, because the law prohibiting destruction of draft cards was designed not to censor, but rather to facilitate the administration of the Selective Service System.

In another seminal case, this one involving cross burning, a majority of the Court repeated the same essential idea:  “[N]onverbal expressive activity can be banned because of the action it entails, but not because of the ideas it expresses—so that burning a flag in violation of an ordinance against outdoor fires could be punishable, whereas burning a flag in violation of an ordinance against dishonoring the flag is not.”

Even some of the Justices who did not join the majority concurred on this point:  “It is true that loud speech in favor of the Republican Party can be regulated because it is loud, but not because it is pro-Republican; and it is true that the public burning of the American flag can be regulated because it involves public burning and not because it involves the flag.”

So it turns out that motive or intent does matter in First Amendment cases—but it is the government’s motive or intent, not the would-be speaker’s, that largely determines whether the First Amendment permits government punishment of an activity that someone is undertaking in order to send a message.

Myth No. 2:  Laws Regulating the “Time, Place and Manner” of Speech in a Content-Neutral Way Are Unimportant or Are a Pretext for Speech Suppression, and Thus Do Not Really Need to Be Enforced

Rules that govern the time, place and manner in which speech occur often serve weighty purposes, including the creation of an environment where those who shout the loudest are not the only ones whose speech gets to be heard. Unsurprisingly, then, the idea that no one need ever obey such rules because the rules are pretextual or unimportant finds no support in court decisions.

As the Supreme Court of California stated in an oft-cited free speech case, In Re Kay:

[T]he state retains a legitimate concern in ensuring that some individuals’ unruly assertion of their rights of free expression does not imperil other citizen’s rights of free association and discussion. … Freedom of everyone to talk at once can destroy the right of anyone effectively to talk at all. Free expression can expire as tragically in the tumult of license as in the silence of censorship.

So things like physical obstruction and blockades are conduct that government has always had the legitimate authority to proscribe, because the conduct so obviously obstructs the liberty and the lawful pursuits of others. Government prohibition of blockades or obstruction has been held to be permissible under the First Amendment too many times to count. To cite just one example, a federal law, the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances Act (FACE), that prohibits anyone from physically obstructing any person from obtaining or providing reproductive health services, has been upheld repeatedly against constitutional challenge, and that statute raises harder questions than do generic obstruction laws (like the kind at issue at UC Davis) because FACE targets specific places where protestors with particular messages may be expected to gather.

To see an easy example of why anti-obstruction laws are necessary and proper, consider what would otherwise happen when two groups of opposing protestors both want to blockade a facility (say, the US Supreme Court, the day of the Affordable Care Act arguments) at the same time, or two opposing political groups want to blockade each other’s protests.  Without valid and enforceable time, place, and manner rules applicable to political protestors, political protests could easily and literally devolve into melees.

One critical reason why blockades and similar obstructions can be prohibited is that they are not intended to, and do not, persuade anyone of the merits of the protestors’ position.  They are employed to coerce third parties to change their behavior, not their minds. As such, blockades and the like are in some respects actually antithetical to, rather than in furtherance of, the values on which freedom of speech and academic freedom are grounded—a commitment to the power of ideas, rather than the use of force, to change the way that people act.

Myth Number 3:  Expressive Conduct Is Treated No Differently Than Pure Speech Is

There is a kernel of truth to this statement, in that courts often do rule in favor of people who act, rather than utter words, to get their message across.  So, for example, a few decades ago the Supreme Court twice ruled in favor of protestors in striking down laws that tried to prohibit flag burning.  And it often makes sense to downplay the speech/conduct distinction, in that all speech requires conduct or action—moving the muscles in one’s fingers or arms to make a point shouldn’t be categorically different than using the muscles in one’s jaw.  So the government’s regulation of conduct can certainly raise free speech concerns.

Yet, crucially, these free speech concerns in the conduct setting arise when the government’s regulation of conduct is intended to suppress the message that the conduct is attempting to communicate. In those instances, government is not punishing protestors in order to protect the rights of third parties.  Rather, it is regulating protestors’ expressive conduct in order to censor the protestors’ message.  So, on closer inspection, the notion that expressive conduct is protected is simply a restatement of the idea discussed above in connection with Myth No. 1—that is, the idea that the government’s motive is important.  If government regulates your expressive conduct because it is expressive, then that is a problem.  A censorial government purpose is always illicit, whether the government is targeting your words or your actions.

That is the theoretical frame.  But in practice, when the government regulates your conduct, it often can point to many non-censorial motives, such as keeping good order, preventing violence, facilitating access to public space for everyone, and so on.  As a result, the government in the real world has a much easier time regulating conduct that is mixed with speech than regulating pure speech.  Put another way, the inference of problematic government censorship is easier to generate when the government regulates pure speech, rather than speech mixed with conduct, because the government doesn’t have as many plausible innocent objectives to which it can point when speech alone is at issue.

Myth Number 4:  The Authorities Could, if They So Chose, Cut Protestors a Break When the Protestors Are Trying to Speak Out on Important Issues to Accomplish Just Results

Some have suggested that authorities should excuse violations of time, place, and manner rules when the violations are politically motivated.  If the meaning of the word “political” here is understood expansively, then this argument would seem to reject the enforcement of all content-neutral time, place and manner rules.  After all, every intentional refusal to obey a rule can be understood to express the “political” message that the actor considers his or her conduct to be more important than any obligation he or she might have to comply with the rule.

Nor does the problem go away if we define the term “political” more narrowly. Perhaps some believe that obstruction and other violations of law should be excused whenever individuals are acting in the furtherance of politically salient beliefs, that is, beliefs concerning the big issues of the day.  Obstruction and blockades that protest things like government privatization, under this analysis, should be treated as permissible expressive activities.

If this is the argument, it too has costly consequences. Presumably, under this view, laws like FACE, which protect women attempting to enter medical clinics to obtain abortion services, also could not be enforced against “political” anti-abortion activists who obstruct the entrances to clinics; anti-abortion protestors (or military funeral protestors, etc.) are assuredly expressing themselves on salient public policy questions.

And even if we could stomach the costs of permitting all protestors who are addressing big issues to do as they please, a government’s decision to prohibit all blockades except those maintained in order to express a limited class of political messages would itself likely violate the First Amendment.  That is because government cannot constitutionally discriminate on the basis of the subject matter of speech when it regulates expressive activity.

In Carey v. Brown, for example, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down a law prohibiting residential picketing that excluded labor picketing that was connected to a place of employment from its coverage.  Similarly, if government were to treat obstruction as permitted speech, it could not permit some blockades and not others based on the government’s (contested) sense of the political salience of the protestors’ message.

Some people may try to define the desirable exceptions more narrowly still.  For example, in the UC Davis bank episode, some have suggested that participants in the blockade of the bank should not be punished because they are promoting a political cause that is just. But, of course, treating one political perspective more favorably than another constitutes viewpoint discrimination.  And a public agency that engaged in viewpoint discrimination in regulating expressive conduct would blatantly violate the core principles on which the First Amendment is based.  So the narrower the exception from enforcement is, the larger the First Amendment problem becomes.

Government can make enforcement decisions based on things unrelated to the content or viewpoint of the expression that is involved.  So enforcement decisions based on the extent of harm actually caused or threatened by the protestors, or based on how repetitive the violations of law are, etc., are permissible.  But enforcement agencies can get into First Amendment trouble if their enforcement pattern suggests any favoritism based on particular messages; as a result (and in order to avoid being unable to enforce laws when the laws are violated in the future), many government enforcement decisionmakers tend to act more mechanically than would otherwise be expected.

Myth Number 5:  Even if Rules Have to Be Enforced By Ordinary Governments, University Campuses Are Special Places Where More Expressive Conduct Should Be Permitted

As with some of the other propositions I’ve discussed, there is a grain of truth to this statement; universities are indeed dedicated to promoting free speech, and what counts as “disruption,” or “obstruction” might be different in the context of a university quad than in the context of, say, a post office parking lot.  So, provided that public universities do not treat protestors differently based on the subject matter or viewpoint of their message (which would violate the First Amendment), they may permit a bit more operational inefficiency than do other government actors, in the name of promoting free speech.

But the problems of governing a community with tens of thousands of residents who have conflicting desires to access services and use scarce property do not disappear simply because the community is also an institution of higher education.   Again, any relaxed enforcement stance by public universities with respect to liberal protests would necessarily mean that campus authorities could not step in when on-campus student health facilities providing contraceptive services or advice about abortion are blockaded by politically motivated students who oppose the use of their student fee dollars to subsidize such services.  And you always have the problem of managing the use of limited property among competing protestors; when protestors want to counter-blockade each other’s protests, then enforcement of neutral time, place and manner rules are the only way to keep order.

One might think that private universities would be free to pick and choose how to enforce their rules, because they are not bound by the content- and viewpoint-neutrality norms of the First Amendment.  But in California, there is a statute that subjects private universities to the same constraints that the First Amendment imposes on public actors.  As long as this statute is not invalidated itself (and I do think it is open to some constitutional challenge), Stanford is no freer to selectively enforce its rules than is the UC.

Finally, I note that there is one other respect in which universities may be different (as least with regard to their students) than are other communities.  Namely, universities often have an administrative disciplinary system of enforcement (e.g., academic suspension, expulsion, etc.) at their disposal.  For this reason, criminal prosecution may not always be an appropriate or supportable response to protests that violate campus regulations or even penal laws governing on-campus conduct. In some cases, in-house discipline imposed by the university itself may be adequate and preferable, so long as decisions about which mode of enforcement to pursue are not made on the basis of the content or viewpoint of expression.

So the issue of what kind of sanction makes sense is an important one to keep in mind in the university setting.  So, too, are the related questions of how much, and what kinds of, force are appropriately used against students who violate university rules.  These two questions are beyond the scope of my column today, but obviously deserve careful attention.

April 26, 2012

PolicyMic Debate on Arizona Immigration: A State Cannot Have its Own Immigration Policy

Earlier this week, I was invited to participate in an online debate on PolicyMic.com over the legal issues surrounding Arizona SB 1070.  PolicyMic hosted the discussion with several legal scholars and think-tank scholars on how the Supreme Court should decide the case. 

Here is my essay, cross-posted from PolicyMic.com:

The Supreme Court should affirm the court of appeal’s decision striking down four provisions of the Arizona immigration enforcement law known as S.B. 1070. The Arizona legislature’s stated – and impermissible – purpose is to pursue a state immigration policy of “attrition through enforcement” that both conflicts with, and undermines, U.S. immigration law and policy. S.B. 1070 therefore violates the constitutional mandate that federal law is the supreme law of the land.

Supreme Court precedent requires the affirmance of the Ninth Circuit’s ruling. For well over a century when Congress first passed comprehensive immigration legislation, it has been firmly established that the federal government has the exclusive reigns over immigration and nationality law. That makes perfect sense given that the regulation of immigration can have national impacts and foreign policy repercussions. As the Court stated unequivocally in De Canas v. Bica (1976), “[p]ower to regulate immigration is unquestionably exclusively a federal power.”

Federal preemption of state immigration enforcement laws like Arizona’s S.B. 1070 makes perfect sense. The U.S. government should be able to enforce the immigration laws without interference from the states. A state cannot, as Arizona sought to do, pursue its own state immigration enforcement policy. Such a patchwork approach to immigration law, with possibly 50 different policy variations, can allow the nation’s relationships with foreign countries to be held hostage to a rogue state or states.

Upholding the court of appeals ruling is consistent with the Supreme Court’s 2011 decision in Chamber of Commerce v. Whiting, which rejected a challenge to an Arizona law allowing the state to strip the licenses of business that employ undocumented immigrants. Federal immigration law expressly allows the states to use its licensing schemes in the manner that Arizona did in the law at issue in Whiting. S.B. 1070 is much broader in scope than a mere licensing law and claims to create an entire state immigration policy law. In addition, in Whiting, the Chamber of Commerce, not the U.S. government, claimed that the state had infringed on the federal power to regulate immigration.  Here, the U.S. government claims that Arizona’s law intrudes on federal power – and has damaged national interests by provoking protests made by the Mexican government as well as governments across Latin America. Needless to say, a claim of the infringement on federal power is more powerfully made by the federal government than the Chamber of Commerce.

Serious civil rights concerns lurk in the background of the legal arguments in Arizona v. United States. Namely, Latina/os and immigrants fear that S.B. 1070’s mandate that state and local police check the immigration status of persons whom they “reasonably suspect” are undocumented, will result in racial profiling at levels never before seen. Those familiar with the civil rights record of Maricopa County (Arizona) Sheriff Joe Arpaio know that this fear is real.

To justify S.B. 1070, Arizona political leaders contend that the U.S. government is failing to enforce the immigration laws. It is hard to contend, however, that the Obama administration is not enforcing the law when it has deported more immigrants than any other President in U.S. history (nearly 400,000 last year). In any event, the frustration with the current immigration system is for Congress, not the states, to address through comprehensive – and national – immigration reform.

(King Hall's Professor Gabriel "Jack" Chin and Professor Emeritus Bill O. Hing contributed to the debate, as well.  You can read their entries, respectively, here and here.)

 

April 23, 2012

Of Law and Self-Loathing

By Angela Harris.  Cross-posted from Concurring Opinions.

“I’m a self-loathing law student,” confessed one of the students in my Critical Race Theory seminar this week. Several others immediately owned up to the same affliction. I will stipulate that self-loathing is probably not an affect we all should strive to achieve. But I was heartened anyway.

Twenty-five years ago when I began teaching law, my social-justice-minded students regularly veered from rage and tears at moral wrongs to a defiant hope. They sustained themselves and one another with a faith that the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice, as Dr. King is thought to have said. And they ultimately placed their trust in law and especially the courts.

My students were not alone. Even by the mid-1980s, many of us lawyers and law professors were still recovering from the collective daze of delight induced by the Second Reconstruction and the Warren and Burger Court eras. Of course, we were already in the throes of affirmative-action backlash and judicial retrenchment; colorblind constitutionalism was shaped before our very eyes; and even as a law student I had studied Harris v. McRae in my equal protection class and learned that the formal declaration of a constitutional right is not the same as the economic security needed to exercise it. Yet the romance, the belief that getting the courts to pronounce a legal right was a mighty blow for justice, lingered on.

Maybe it was the continued influence of the post-war “idea of America as a normative concept,” as Edward Purcell  put it in 1973: the incorporation throughout social and political debate of “terms that were analytically confused but morally coercive – patriotism, Americanism, free enterprise system, mission, and, most grossly, ‘we’re number one.’” In the culture of legal academia, this logic translated into a faith in the jurisprudence of legal process. In my little corner of the world we were all reading Democracy and Distrust and trying to locate neutral principles. The faith that procedural fairness, at least, could be achieved despite a lack of consensus about the good life reinforced a belief in the American rule of law as an unshakable bulwark of democratic fairness. That sentiment was entwined with a professional loyalty to the law: to have gone to law school was in itself a statement about one’s commitment to the law as the royal (I mean ”democratic”) road to justice.

So when critical legal studies, feminist legal theory, and then critical race theory hit the academy around this time, the crits (like the Legal Realists before them) were accused of “nihilism” and shown the door. Critical legal theory was not just a disloyalty to the civil rights movement but to the rule of law itself. It was subversive, in those mid-1980s days, to pass around The Hollow Hope  and to insist, as the crits were loudly doing, that “reification” and “legitimation” were basic functions of legal reasoning. The trust that the system works – or, at least, could work if we got it right – was now being dubbed “legal liberalism” by the crits, and being skewered in massively long and ponderous articles about fundamental contradictions. But the critics could be challenged by asking them where their “positive program” was. And they could (sometimes) be silenced by demands that they leave the law altogether.

For the crit project seemed deeply and radically anti-law. We junior professors, reading their work and sometimes contributing to it, felt like outlaws (which brought with it a sense of being dangerous and cool, along with a sense of vulnerability heightened by our lack of tenure and the material consequences of being perceived as a nihilist). At the same time, interestingly, the practice of teaching was not too different for us as it was for our older Legal Process colleagues. It was all about puncturing our students’ illusions, showing them the indeterminacy of legal reasoning and teaching them how to surf on it, questioning the use of words like “fairness.” It was just that we had no shining neutral-principles machine to lift from the bottom of Pandora’s box at the end of the day.

I don’t mean to suggest that legal liberalism and faith in the rule of law as central to the American way ever died. At a conference at Santa Clara Law School last week on race and sexuality, some of the lawyers and academics gathered there bemoaned a “politics of civil rights” that has somehow placed marriage equality at the top of the LGBT agenda. The charge was familiar: too many lawyers and non-lawyers alike believe that “gay is the new black;” that the civil rights movement brought about racial equality and “now it’s our turn;” that if we prove we are just like them, we’ll all be free. The rush to assimilate to mainstream institutions and practices throws under the bus, as usual, those most vulnerable to premature death – those without the racial, economic, and bodily privileges (and/or the desire) to get married, move to the suburbs, and blend in.

What was different was that an alternative position, the “politics of dispossession” as Marc Spindelman named it, was also on the table – not as a stance that made one’s commitment to the law suspect from the get-go, but as an accepted ground for lawyering. When thinking about sexuality we might want to begin, under this politics, not with marriage but with the kids doing sex work on International Boulevard in Oakland, as Margaret Russell pointed out. And, after decades of critical theory, it was taken as a truth in that room — if an inconvenient one — that to do this would mean instantly coming up against poverty, racism, and violence, forms of suffering law is not well positioned to ameliorate.

In this way, lawyering for social justice is a contradiction. Not in the “nihilist” sense, the law-as-a-tool-of-the-ruling-class notion that those who want justice ought to give up their bar cards and go protest in the streets. (My friend Norma Alarcón once identified this romantic position as the desire to “be out in the jungle with Che.”) Rather, the politics of dispossession begins with recognizing that the law is not designed to go to root causes; that fundamental changes in the ground rules, which is what the most vulnerable need, come from organizing;  and that lawyering isn’t useless, but that it looks different if it is prison abolition you want and not a marriage license.

More abstractly, the understanding in that room was that, as Patricia Williams said to the crits in one of the founding texts of critical race theory, law is both inadequate and indispensable in the struggle for justice. Post-legal-liberalism lawyering begins here.

What’s also new is that this commitment to living in the contradiction — accepting the tension between law and justice as a place to work rather than as a source of despair — is increasingly expressed not only by battle-scarred veterans at academic conferences but by law students. The desire to make positive social change has not gone away among my students. They still hope and expect that law can be used in the service of justice. But along with a waning of faith in the courts, they express an increasingly sophisticated awareness of the limits of the law more generally. They know, already, that justice and law are not the same. The task is no longer disillusioning them, but helping them develop the skills for finding what works and what doesn’t.

Okay, so “self-loathing” is probably not the best way to say it. But this wry recognition of the imperfection of law seems to me nevertheless an improvement over the wounded attachment to law as a portal to justice that seemed to mark so many progressive law students a generation ago. As the same student said later in the conversation that day, “That’s my contradiction, and I’m sticking to it.” There’s a wisdom there that’s heartening.

April 23, 2012

SB1070 in the Supreme Court

By Gabriel "Jack" Chin and Marc Miller.  Cross-posted from ACS Blog.

Arizona v. United States, being argued Wednesday, will decide whether SB1070 is preempted by federal law.  We have previously co-authored papers about its complex provisions, and various legal doctrines that might be brought to bear on it, from the non-delegation doctrine to double jeopardy. But Arizona v. United States is, ultimately, a simple case.  Here is what we hope the Supreme Court understands.

SB1070 is preempted -- it is unconstitutional -- because it usurps powers that the Constitution, the Immigration and Nationality Act, and other federal statutes assign exclusively to the federal government. The Framers, Congress and the Court have consistently recognized that the security of the nation and fairness to non-citizens require that decisions and enforcement be under federal direction and control.

Four provisions of SB1070 are at issue. Three provisions involve direct immigration enforcement.

  • Section 2 requires that state and local police investigate the status of suspected undocumented non-citizens who have been detained;
  • Section 6 authorizes police to arrest non-citizens believed to be deportable; and
  • Section 3 criminalizes the presence of non-citizens in Arizona if they have not registered under federal law.

The fourth provision (§ 5) criminalizes working in Arizona without authorization, which is not a crime under federal law.

The first three provisions are invalid because they assume powers that Congress granted exclusively to the executive branch.  8 U.S.C. § 1103(a)(1) provides:

The Secretary of Homeland Security shall be charged with the administration and enforcement of this chapter and all other laws relating to the immigration and naturalization of aliens, except insofar as [they] relate to the powers, functions, and duties conferred upon the President, Attorney General, the Secretary of State, the officers of the Department of State, or diplomatic or consular officers: Provided, however, That determination and ruling by the Attorney General with respect to all questions of law shall be controlling.

Section 1103's breadth and clarity is striking. It makes federal authorities responsible for the Immigration and Nationality Act (INA) “and all other laws relating to the immigration and naturalization of aliens." That is, Congress decided that there would be no laws relating to the immigration and naturalization of aliens not administered and enforced by the executive branch. 

In addition, the Attorney General's views "with respect to all questions of law shall be controlling." That is, Congress intended that there would be no circumstances that immigration laws could be applied or construed contrary to the views of the Attorney General.

The powers and duties granted to the Executive Branch "under the chapter" include precisely the powers Arizona arrogated to its own officers in SB1070: investigating suspected undocumented non-citizens (8 U.S.C. § 1357(a)(1)), arresting them if they are believed to be civilly deportable (8 U.S.C. § 1357(a)(2)), and regulating the presence of undocumented non-citizens in the United States without registering (8 U.S.C. § 1306(a)). Indeed, the overall purpose of SB1070--inducement of self-deportation and "attrition through enforcement" (§ 1)--is similar  to the procedure of "voluntary departure" under the INA, which is a power Congress granted to the Attorney General. (8 U.S.C. § 1229C)

There is no reason for a state to take these actions other than in the hope or expectation of putting the targets into the INA's removal process, or punishing them for violating requirements of the INA. That is, Arizona has no independent state purpose, other than in achieving what might be accomplished through administration and enforcement of the INA. 

The expressio unius principle suggests that powers granted in 8 U.S.C. §1103(a)(1) are exclusive. Further, the INA makes sense only as an exclusive regime; it cannot be that Congress intended unspecified others to be allowed to issue visas, grant asylum, or carry out deportations.  

In any event, there is a clear textual refutation to Arizona’s claim that Congress intended to share direct enforcement authority under the INA. Congress described the powers of state law enforcement officers in precisely this context as restricted to working with federal authorities: They have the power to "cooperate with the Attorney General in the identification, apprehension, detention, or removal of aliens not lawfully present in the United States." (8 U.S.C. § 1357(g)(10)(B)). States may "cooperate," not overrule, with regard to "identification" covered by SB1070 § 2, "apprehension," covered by § 6, and registration provisions like § 3 designed to facilitate identification and apprehension.

These limitations differentiate SB1070 from the employer sanctions law upheld last term and similar cases such as De Canas v. Bica. Unlike SB1070, the laws upheld in those cases did not directly regulate immigrants themselves, did not purport to exercise powers given to federal officials or enforce or administer the INA, and, as the Court last term emphatically noted, operated in an area where Congress explicitly left room for independent state action.

The powers granted to investigate and arrest non-citizens would be perfectly consistent with § 1357(g)(10)(B) if they were exercised by request and under the direction of the Attorney General. But because the Attorney General has instead asked Arizona not to exercise them, Arizona is not "cooperating" and instead is attempting to exercise authority not delegated to them. For these reasons, §§ 2, 3 and 6 are preempted. 

Admittedly it would have been easy for Congress to insert an express preemption provision. Why did Congress not just say states cannot issue visas, grant asylum, deport non-citizens, create their own immigration crimes, or investigate and arrest for civil immigration violations contrary to the direction of the Attorney General? 

The answer is that the principle of federal exclusivity has been so well established for so long that it would be akin to wondering why the Constitution is silent on, say, the effect of the EPA Administrator's signature on a bill passed by Congress. For example, in 1954 -- a year in which the Court was clearly open to reconsidering old verities -- the Court ruled: "Policies pertaining to the entry of aliens and their right to remain here are peculiarly concerned with the political conduct of government.  . . .  that the formulation of these policies is entrusted exclusively to Congress has become about as firmly imbedded in the legislative and judicial tissues of our body politic as any aspect of our government."

Congress, not the Arizona legislature, has the exclusive power to create immigration policy. This is why § 5 is invalid; just as Arizona cannot overrule the enforcement decisions of the Attorney General, it cannot overrule the policy decisions of Congress.

This principle dates back to 1876, when the Court's unanimous decision in Chy Lung v. Freeman squelched California's effort to prohibit Chinese immigration. The Court concluded that the state laws interfered with an exclusive power of the federal government; “the responsibility for the character of those regulations, and for the manner of their execution, belongs solely to the national government. If it be otherwise, a single State can, at her pleasure, embroil us in disastrous quarrels with other nations.” 

Importantly, this principle goes beyond preemption; in 1876, the era of open borders, there was no existing federal law with which the California could conflict. While the Court recognized the state's  broad police powers, it held in a companion case that "no definition of [the police power], and no urgency for its use, can authorize a State to exercise it in regard to a subject-matter which has been confided exclusively to the discretion of Congress by the Constitution."

Chy Lung made clear that "the manner of the [] execution" of immigration laws was as much part of federal power as drafting them. Conservative members of the modern Court have explained why: Administration as well as creation of immigration policy is tied to foreign policy and national security.

Thus, in Reno v. American-ArabAnti-Discrimination Committee,  the Court, in an opinion by Justice Scalia, rejected a claim of selective prosecution in the immigration context, because of the surpassing importance of executive authority. The Court recognized particular difficulties with “invad[ing] a special province of the Executive -- its prosecutorial discretion.”  "What will be involved in deportation cases is not merely the disclosure of normal domestic law enforcement priorities and techniques, but often the disclosure of foreign-policy objectives and … foreign-intelligence products and techniques."  This conclusion is consistent with the Constitution's general decision to keep states out of foreign policy (U.S. Const. Art. 1, § 10).

Congress had made clear in other laws that Congress, rather than the states, is where distinctions between aliens and citizens are to be made. 42 U.S.C. § 1981(a),  as Justice White famously explained in Runyon v. McCrary, was intended to protect Chinese immigrants, the very group targeted in Chy Lung

All persons within the jurisdiction of the United States shall have the same right in every State and Territory to make and enforce contracts, to sue, be parties, give evidence, and to the full and equal benefit of all laws and proceedings for the security of persons and property as is enjoyed by white citizens, and shall be subject to like punishment, pains, penalties, taxes, licenses, and exactions of every kind, and to no other.

Congress decided to keep the states out of the business of discriminating against non-citizens. This is consistent with, for example, the Framers’ decision to grant non-citizens access to the federal courts in Article III; human nature being what it is, the risk of local prejudice was too high.       

If the Supreme Court applies the plain language of the INA and follows its precedents, SB1070 will be resoundingly invalidated.  It should not be a close case.

April 17, 2012

The Context Surrounding Arizona v. United States

Cross-posted from ImmigrationProf Blog.

Commentators have remarked that the Court’s decision in Arizona v. United States could be one of the most significant immigration decisions in decades. Oral arguments are scheduled for April 25. It is difficult to predict the outcome, especially with Justice Kagan recusing herself. In any event, some context is necessary to understand the possible ripple effects of a decision in the case.

For several years, Congress has at various times considered proposals for comprehensive immigration reform. Reform proposals have failed on a number of occasions, even though both Democrats and Republicans agree that the current immigration system is nothing less than “broken.” The Immigration Nationality Act of 1952 (INA), forged in the era of the Cold War, understandably reflected Cold War concerns. Although amended regularly by Congress in the last half-century, including in a major overhaul in 1986 (the Immigration Reform and Control Act), the INA remains the foundation of the current immigration system.

President Obama has advocated “comprehensive immigration reform.” Such reform by most accounts includes increased enforcement measures, a path to legalization for undocumented immigrants, a possible guest worker program, and the so-called DREAM Act to allow undocumented college students access to a public university education. To convince nay-sayers of their good faith, the Obama administration has aggressively pressed immigration enforcement, annually setting all-time records – nearly 400,000 last year -- for the removal of noncitizens from the United States. Some of the programs, such as Secure Communities, which requires state and local law enforcement to cooperate with federal authorities in immigration enforcement, have contributed to the deportation records and has generated considerable controversy.

With Congress unable to enact reform, state legislatures have passed immigration enforcement laws at a record-setting pace. The stated aim has been to encourage undocumented immigrants in no uncertain terms to “self-deport.” Political leaders who support such laws claim that the U.S. government has “failed” to enforce the immigration laws.

Arizona’s S.B. 1070, passed in 2010, struck a raw nerve, receiving worldwide attention (including protests by the Mexican government) and even calls for an economic boycott of the state. In 2011, Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina all passed strict immigration enforcement laws. See United States v. Bentley, 813 F. Supp. 2d 1282 (N.D. Ala. 2011), appeal pending; Georgia Latino Alliance for Human Rights v. Deal, 793 F. Supp. 2d 1317 (N.D. Ga. 2011), appeal pending; Complaint, United States v. Haley, No. 2:11-CV-02779 (D.S.C. filed Oct. 31, 2011).

Besides reacting to Congress’s failure to enact reform, the states were responding in part to unsettling demographic change. In the pursuit of agricultural and other jobs, Mexican migrants were moving into states that previously had seen relatively few of them. Critics contend that the laws had nothing to do with immigrants and everything to do with increasing numbers of people of Mexican ancestry moving into the states.

The U.S. government challenged the Arizona’s S.B. 1070 as well as its Alabama and South Carolina counterparts. The challenges are primarily founded on the U.S. Constitution’s Supremacy Clause, which makes federal law the “supreme law of the land.” U.S. CONST., ART. VI, cl. 2. The U.S. government specifically claims that the state immigration laws impermissibly intrude on the federal power to regulate immigration. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit (641 F.3d 339, 346-54 (9th Cir. 2011)) struck down four core immigration enforcement provisions of Arizona’s S.B. 1070.

Many critics of the state immigration laws are less worried about state intrusion on federal power over immigration and more concerned that the laws would allow encourage discrimination against Latinos, including lawful immigrants and U.S. citizens. Specifically, the Arizona law (as well as the others) would require state and local law enforcement officers to verify the immigration status of person who they had “reasonable suspicion” were undocumented. Some observers claimed that it would increase racial profiling of Latinos. Reaching a different conclusion from the Ninth Circuit in United States v. Arizona, a district court in Alabama upheld the Alabama immigration enforcement law’s requirement that state and local police check the immigration status of persons, United States v. Bentley, 813 F. Supp. 2d 1282 (N.D. Ala. 2011). The obvious question posed by civil rights advocates is whether “foreign-looking” people, especially Latinos, will bear the brunt of the mandatory immigration checks. Racial profiling in law enforcement, including immigration enforcement, is an evil that the nation has long sought to remedy, but has proven extremely difficult to eradicate.

To this point, the Supreme Court has not been altogether clear on the role that states can play in the enforcement of the federal immigration laws. In De Canas v. Bica, 424 U.S. 351, 354 (1976), the Court stated that the “[p]ower to regulate immigration is unquestionably exclusively a federal power”; although that language sounds clear, the Court proceeded to uphold a California law allowing for the imposition of sanctions on the employers of undocumented immigrants. (emphasis added). More recently, in Chamber of Commerce v. Whiting, 131 S. Ct. 1968, 1974 (2011), the Court reiterated federal supremacy (“Power to regulate immigration is unquestionably . . . a federal power.”) over immigration regulation but refused to disturb an Arizona law that allowed the state to strip the licenses of businesses that employ undocumented immigrants.

In sum, there is considerable uncertainty today about the extent of the power of the states to participate in immigration enforcement. Despite the uncertainty, states have not been inhibited from passing their own immigration enforcement legislation.

The Supreme Court in Arizona v. United States has the opportunity to provide guidance to the nation on the contours of state power over immigration. The Court’s decision thus could affect the efforts of many states to “assist” the U.S. government in enforcing the immigration laws. Besides addressing issues concerning federal versus state power over immigration, Arizona v. United States could directly or indirectly address the potential civil rights consequences on Latinos and immigrants of the state immigration enforcement laws. It is both sets of concerns that have contributed to dozens of amicus briefs filed in the case as well as the considerable public attention that the case has – and will – receive.

April 16, 2012

The Preacher and the Pragmatist: Remembering Derrick Bell

By Professor Angela Harris.  Cross-posted from Concurring Opinions.

I’m now old enough to have lived through several moral panics over critical race theory. There was that culture-wars-era (remember those days?) one over whether critical race theorists were destroying the legacy of the Enlightenment by publishing first-person anecdotes; there was the one about whether critical race theorists were anti-Asian and anti-Semitic for criticizing extant standards of “merit” in the context of affirmative action in higher education; connected with that, there was that flap over whether Richard Delgado’s skin was the same color as Richard Posner’s (young people, I swear I am not making this up! Google it!); and, of course, there was that time Jeffrey Rosen blamed O.J. Simpson’s acquittal on, you guessed it, critical race theory.

These are reduced days, and the most recent moral panic over CRT cannot compare in either grandeur or silliness. Still, I experienced a moment of nostalgia when video recently surfaced on YouTube of a sweetly young Barack Obama, then a student at Harvard Law School, introducing Professor Derrick Bell at what appears to be a rally. The tagline attached to the video refers to “radical racist Derrick Bell,” and a related video shows Soledad O’Brien frantically riffing off some clearly inadequate notes as she tries to defend critical race theory as a mainstream academic literature (watching her, I had the urge to shout encouragingly, “EPA!”). The “gotcha” moment that follows shows Bell explaining to an interviewer his sympathy with W.E.B. DuBois’s concept of “the wages of whiteness”: the idea that anti-black sentiment has been so hard to eradicate in American society because it serves the function of keeping poor and disempowered white people content with their lot, willing to identify with elite whites based on the symbolic community of race rather than making common cause with poor folks of other backgrounds based on economic interest.

Seeing Bell explaining this argument in his characteristically soft, courtly voice, and thinking about the juxtaposition of Bell and Obama, made me think about the preacher and the pragmatist. Not Bell as preacher and Obama as pragmatist, but the preacher and the pragmatist within Bell himself.

What’s true in the characterization of Bell as a radical is, of course, his thoroughgoing rejection of America’s official liberal pieties about race, the most important of these being the faith that racism either has already disappeared or could very soon, probably in our grandchildren’s generation (if we could just get rid of affirmative action, or fully implement it, depending on whether you skew right or left).  Bell is probably most famous for two concepts: the idea of “interest convergence” and the conviction that “racism is permanent,” and both – especially the second – were and continue to be deeply emotionally upsetting to many. Interest convergence is the idea that black people (about and to whom Bell largely spoke) will only experience improvement in their material condition to the extent that white people as a group believe that it serves their own interests. The idea that racism is permanent links back to DuBois and undermines another liberal faith: the idea that racism is peripheral rather than central to American society. The Bell who believed racism is permanent also believed that the American social contract is founded on racial identity, that Americanness and whiteness are too bound up in one another to ever be teased apart.

This side of Bell counseled pragmatism rather than idealism, rejecting King’s “I Have a Dream” speech in the most brutal terms. Under this view, the best strategy for black people is to appeal to white self-interest for moderate reforms; and we will never be post-racial as long as there is an America. Bell was accused of nihilism for taking this position. Yet there was another Bell too, a preacher in addition to a pragmatist.

Re-reading his book Confronting Authority, I get the sense that Bell was not an easy colleague, and not because of his personal style. Bell was always warm, gentle and mild-mannered, funny, and dedicated to dialogue even with those with whom he bitterly disagreed. He never came across as the stereotypical Angry Black Man. But he had the discomfiting habit of trying to live up to his principles and expecting everyone else to, too. His account of his personal strike against Harvard Law School – his decision to take leave unless and until a qualified black woman was hired to the full-time tenure-track faculty – is the best example. Like Peter Singer, the philosopher who tries to get affluent people to use their money and privilege on behalf of the worst-off instead of benefitting their friends and family, Bell was always taking an uncomfortable but principled stand and making you have to explain to yourself why you couldn’t do the same. This Bell was an idealist, not a realist. His answer to those who criticized his “permanence of racism” thesis was similarly disconcertingly idealistic: One fights against racism, even though we know it to be permanent, simply because it is the right thing to do, because we have a moral responsibility to do so. Preachers’ kids sometimes grow up to be odd people in this way: trying to live as God wants us to live rather than making the accommodations to social norms and physical and mental comfort that the rest of us do. I have no idea whether Professor Bell was a preacher’s kid, or whether he considered himself religious, but this aspect of his thought and life has that same unnerving quality.

In his book A Secular Age,  Charles Taylor argues that a signal social division of our time is between those who feel that the pleasures and pains of this world are all there is, and those who feel that there is something more. Derrick Bell placed himself on both sides of the divide. He was both a preacher and a pragmatist, deeply principled and deeply strategic. Both sides of him were uncompromising. People like that are seldom easy company, but they challenge us in a useful way: not only with their ideas, but with the shape of their lives.