Archive for the 'The Supreme Court' Category
To defend the post-McCain-Feingold version of campaign finance reform, proponents have taken special pains to say that it did not really hurt the political parties. They bounced back, engineered new ways to raise money, became perhaps even stronger. The soft-money the 2002 law took away from them has been replaced by other sources of funding. Online contributions have helped, and so has special new party fundraising authority enacted by Congress in the “Cromnibus.”
But even more important, according to this line of argument, is understanding what a political party is. It is not correct, on this view, to point to the formal institutional party organizations, but parties should be viewed instead as “networks” of allied entities. That would include, for example, interest groups sympathetic to Democrats or Republicans, Super PACs aligned with either major party (sometimes referred to as “shadow parties”), and even Fox or MSNBC.
Now the Campaign Finance Institute has put out new research and commentary in support of this picture of the parties. Having assembled data to show that Super PACs aligned with party interests spent large sums of money in 2016, the CFI declares that there is no cause to “bemoan” the weakness of parties. Parties have “rebounded”: they “have found a way to fight back” after the reforms and Citizens United.
And how did this happen? On this point, CFI words its position delicately. The parties’ recovery can be attributed in part to the “law’s permeability.” The unrestricted funding and spending of Super PACs "looks much like the soft-money the formal parties accepted before the Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act of 2002 (BCRA).” There are advantages and disadvantages to this development. On the plus side, the "shadow party" PACs don’t have to pretend to be “issue advertising” and can spend on direct advocacy of their candidates. But, more negatively, they have to set up as “independent” of candidates or the institutional parties and cannot coordinate their spending with them.
It is difficult to follow Linda Greenhouse’s reasoning that the Court has been “broken” because it has been made into an electoral “prize.” Presidential candidates campaign on promises to support the nomination and confirmation of Justices who will move the Court’s jurisprudence in a desired direction. Why should they not? The Court does not decide only abstruse legal issues of interest primarily to learned commentators. If electoral competition necessarily features arguments about--to name a few-- reproductive rights, or voting rights, or the role of money in politics, then it will require candidates to take a stand on the Court. And in some elections, the issue will be right in the thick of the fight.
Donald Trump made as much as he could of the critical importance to Republicans of a Court molded in the image of the late Justice Scalia. Secretary Clinton told the Democratic Convention that: “We need to appoint Supreme Court justices who will get money out of politics and expand voting rights, not restrict them. And we’ll pass a constitutional amendment to overturn Citizens United.” No one doubted that the election would be consequential for the Court. Voters were entitled to know how much of a priority each party attached to the issue and what the candidates would look for in their nominees. The parties and their candidates obliged--as they should have.
None of this excuses the Republican refusal to provide a hearing for and allow a vote on the Garland nomination. But it is mistake to confuse this escalation in the struggle over the Court with the larger point about the central importance in national political conflicts of the Court’s composition. The Senate has an obligation to attend to the procedures and norms consistent with institutional interests and its governing responsibility in the long run. One aspect of this obligation is managing and translating political pressures, not giving entirely into them, in order to preserve the capacity of the body to function as a creditable legislature. If Senator McConnell were to announce that the Senate majority will closely coordinate legislative priorities with the RNC and that the RNC Chair will attend, to this end, the weekly Senate Republican Caucus lunches, there would be an outcry.
The Garland maneuver is an abuse close to this in kind. The Republican Senate majority decided to shape a process---in effect, to invent one--to enable the party’s Presidential candidate to campaign on a pledge to nominate the appropriate successor to Scalia, and to turn the nomination into electoral prize. The Senate subordinated its “advice and consent” function to Republican electoral objectives. Never before had the Senate taken the position that a duly elected President in an election year had no call on the Senate to advise and consent on a Court nomination. As Robin Bradley Kar and Jason Mazzone have shown, the Senate has “transferred” to the next administration the power to nominate to fill a vacancy only when the president had assumed office on the death of a predecessor, or a nomination was made by one president after another had been elected but not yet taken the oath.
There is bidding underway for the right to declare what is “precedent-shattering” in the votes ahead on the Gorsuch nomination. Democrats, The Wall Street Journal opines, may disregard institutional tradition by launching a full partisan filibuster. But the Republicans may answer with the nuclear option. In the one way or the other, there is the fear--or pretense--that ruin will have been brought to Senate practice.
But the process question is secondary, and only as important as what preceded it: the confirmation process. And that process is understood to have become a torpid affair. Whether it is characterized as “hollow” or, worse, “dishonest,” it now consists of a series of rituals with little substance. The process opens with the one-on-one "courtesy calls," proceeds to public testimony supplemented by written questions and answers for the record, and then comes the predictable finale on the floor of the Senate. No one expects anything useful to come of any of it.
It is not realistic to hope that a nominee will embrace candor and risk a 40 or more year position on the most Supreme of all courts. And the party whose president made the nomination will not urge the prospective Justice to take that risk. It has gotten to the point that, with other few measures available, nominees are judged on personality characteristics on display during the testimony: “seems nice,” v. “too smug.”
The de Blasio campaign finance investigation ended with explanations from federal and state authorities of their decision not to pursue charges. The Manhattan District Attorney Cyrus Vance, Jr. chose to give the lengthier account: ten pages of conclusions of law and facts in a letter to the State Board of Elections, which had referred the matter for investigation. Yet again in recent legal history, the prosecutor declines to prosecute but does not stop there, adding his disapproval of the conduct he would not indict. He also suggests how the law could be improved so that it more directly, clearly prohibited the actions he does not approve of. The letter is something less than a model for productive prosecutorial encounters with the political process.
The District Attorney is passing on a case that involves a coordinated campaign of candidates, party leaders and party organizations to deliver support to targeted State Senate races. The question was whether party county committees became conduits for contributions to candidates that were larger in amount than what the candidates could accept directly. Donors were solicited for contributions to the parties, and the parties promptly provided the money to the campaigns for immediate use in paying their consultants. The coordinated campaign drew up plans for this arrangement with the county committees and submitted them to legal counsel for review. Counsel then approved of what the prosecutors refer to as an “end run” around the candidate contribution limits. The lawyer put his advice in writing and stayed in close contact with the client, providing “consistent advice” from planning to execution. The DA found no evidence of “bad faith” in the way the advice was sought or delivered.
Now with the Gorsuch nomination there is another round of largely fruitless argument about the standards that Senators should use in advising and consenting on Supreme Court nominations – – or whether they should simply refuse to consent at all. It goes like this: each party has an obligation to put up for a vote or even consent to the confirmation of a nominee whose views are “mainstream.” The only exception is an election year, or so now say the Republicans to defend their refusal to take up the Garland nomination. This alleged election-year proviso has turned into volleys of “you did it, too”/ “no I did not,” with the Republicans implausibly insisting that they only refused to consider Judge Garland because they were exquisitely sensitive to an election-year precedent they claim that Joe Biden established.
Other than in an election year, and when the qualifications of the nominee are unchallenged, the disagreement is then mostly redirected into one about what constitutes “mainstream.” Given the choice facing them, Senators are virtually compelled to split on this question. Because the true problem here, discussed only obliquely, is the extraordinary power and ambitions of the Court whose members may, and typically now do, serve for many decades. Elections must have consequences, as the saying goes, but it useful to retain some common sense grip on how far the point has to be taken. Each opposition party will be hard-pressed to accept that, with its generously provided "consent," a president can strive to recast the constitutional law of the land for the next generation and beyond. Acceptance may be harder if the opposition is smarting from a “stolen seat,” or if it is concerned that a nominee is too much of an ideologue, or if the Court's balance will be immediately "tilted," but it is enough that the appointment is for a lifetime.
It’s conceivable that there is someone somewhere available for nomination who both parties would believe to be reliably moderate in his or her views--a difference-splitter whose decisions would please progressives one day and conservatives the next. But neither party will most of the time be inclined to take the chance. The moderate today could turn out tomorrow to have preferences that run more consistently in one direction. It cannot be known for that matter whether in a decade or more the nominee’s jurisprudential disposition will shift or undergo major transformation.
To imagine that moderation suffices as a standard is also to ignore the probability that a president has campaigned on a promise to nominate a candidate with dependable jurisprudential or ideological commitments. The very reason that he or she is moved to make such a promise returns the argument to the fundamental issue: voters perceive that the Court has an outsized role in the resolution of major and highly contested issues--that it is activist on issues they care deeply about, whether or not the activism is inspired by originalism or belief in a living constitution. A president, but also political opponents, will balk at urging supporters to have faith in a nominee identified as moderate and just hope it turns out all right. There is no chance of persuading them to take Alexander Hamilton’s stated view of the Court’s “comparative weakness,” or to share in his confidence that impeachment would be available to correct a mistake.