Source: http://reformclub.blogspot.com/2015/10/
Timestamp: 2019-04-22 06:41:57+00:00

Document:
He believed that through the wisdom and examples of the Holy Scriptures, specifically by serving one another in the active Christian love found in the Gospels, and the guidance by the universal Church and its doctrines, society could better itself until the time that Christ returned to earth.
That brief summary of More's key convictions explains how the Man for All Seasons pivoted from being a Church reformer in the period prior to the outbreak of the Reformation to such a staunch defender of Catholic orthodoxy & papal primacy during the Reformation -- a transformation that ultimately led to his martyrdom at the hands of Henry VIII. Both before the Reformation & in that movement's early stages, More sought to defend the purity of the Catholic faith, first from the abuses present within the pre-Reformation Church & then from the destruction of the Catholic faith at the hands of a government seeking to impose Protestantism in England.
In that work, More is an almost perfect example of a conservative reformer. He was no radical; rather he sought to retain essential truths of the faith while working to correct abuses in the Church's way of life. Unlike his opponents, he was not a doctrinal innovator; he sought reform for the Church instead of its replacement. Once this is understood, More's actions during the early Reformation can be understood to be a continuation of his efforts to improve the Church prior to the Reformation. As such, More's basic approach to the question of reform stands well within the conservative approach to societal change set out by men such as Edmund Burke (himself a practicing Anglican who was married to a Catholic & sympathetic to Catholic freedom in England & Ireland). Far from being a reactionary, a fundamentalist or religious fanatic (as he has been portrayed recently by the historical fiction Wolf Hall), More stands as a conservative voice for both reform of and fidelity to the Catholic Church, of necessary change within the constraints of substantive continuity.
Paralleling this understanding of More, Cambridge historian and Reformation scholar Eamon Duffy has noted, "More was neither blood-soaked nor a hypocrite, but he was a man of his times, not of ours." And in that, More reflects one of the key characteristics of a conservative reformer: he was a man of his day, living not by abstraction but by the customs and the mores of hist time, tempered by prudential application of principle.
- John Adams, Letter to F.A. Van der Kemp, dated Feb. 16, 1808.
Of the three pillars supporting western civilization -- Greco-Roman culture, the legacy of Judaism, and the prudential insights of the Enlightenment -- the most important is the legacy of Judaism.
The Federalist solution: judicial review. Federalist constitutional theory posited that the Supreme Court had the power to judicially review legislation enacted by Congress and signed by the president in order to determine its constitutionality.
In a nutshell, if the Court found that the legislation in question was not constitutional, the legislation would be regarded as null and void. This approach to judicial review was advocated by Alexander Hamilton in The Federalist Papers, specifically No. 78. It also is the theory that was embraced by Federalist Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall in the landmark Supreme Court case of Marbury v. Madison, 5 US 137 (1803). That case has long been considered the key Supreme Court case in the development of the doctrine of judicial review, although it built off earlier case law acknowledging the principle. One of those cases is the 1789 case of Ware v. Hylton. In that case, the Supreme Court struck down a state law under the Supremacy Clause because the state law violated the requirements of a treaty to which the United States was a party.
Jefferson's radicalism and nullification under Calhoun. Jefferson was highly skeptical of the idea of judicial review, and Madison, while originally supporting the idea at the Constitutional Convention, eventually grew skeptical of judicial review as well. During the controversy over the Alien and Sedition Acts, both Jefferson and Madison proposed a different mechanism by which the Constitution's protections could be vindicated in the face of possible abuse by the general government: the doctrine of nullification. Under that theory, a state could nullify constitutionally problematic federal legislation within that state's boundaries, effectively shielding its own state citizens from federal overreach. Sometimes referred to as interposition (from the idea that the state would position itself between its own citizens and the federal government), the Jeffersonian-Madisonian view lived on in American polity well into the 19th century.
As the Jeffersonian Republicans morphed into the Jacksonian Democrats, the new Democratic Party's southern wing's leader, John C. Calhoun, was an ardent proponent of the idea, and much of Southern constitutional theory, both prior to the Civil War and during the Confederate period, was dominated by the idea. Interestingly enough, prior to the emergence of the Jacksonian Democrats there was a strong view within the Jeffersonian Republican Party in support of the idea of judicial review, despite Jefferson and Madison's misgivings about the doctrine.
The obligation which the constitution imposes upon the judiciary department to support the constitution of the United States, would be nugatory, if it were dependent upon either of the other branches of the government, or in any manner subject to their control, since such control might operate to the destruction, instead of the support, of the constitution. Nor can it escape observation, that to require such an oath on the part of the judges, on the one hand, and yet suppose them bound by acts of the legislature, which may violate the constitution which they have sworn to support, carries with it such a degree of impiety, as well as absurdity, as no man who pays any regard to the obligations of an oath can be supposed either to contend for, or to defend.
If we consider the nature of the judicial authority, and the manner in which it operates, we shall discover that it cannot, of itself, oppress any individual; for the executive authority must lend it's aid in every instance where oppression can ensue from it's decisions: whilst on the contrary, it's decisions in favour of the citizen are carried into instantaneous effect, by delivering him from the custody and restraint of the executive officer, the moment that an acquittal is pronounced. And herein consists one of the great excellencies of our constitution: that no individual can be oppressed whilst this branch of the government remains independent, and uncorrupted; it being a necessary check upon the encroachments, or usurpations of power, by either of the other. Thus, if the legislature should pass a law dangerous to the liberties of the people, the judiciary are bound to pronounce, not only whether the party accused hath been guilty of any violation of it, but whether such a law be permitted by the constitution. If, for example, a law be passed by congress, prohibiting the free exercise of religion, according to the dictates, or persuasions of a man's own conscience or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people to assemble peaceably, or to keep and bear arms; it would, in any of these cases, be the province of the judiciary to pronounce whether any such act were constitutional, or not; and if not, to acquit the accused from any penalty which might be annexed to the breach of such unconstitutional act. If an individual be persecuted by the executive authority, (as if any alien, the subject of a nation with whom the United States were at that time at peace, had been imprisoned by order of the president under the authority of the alien act, 5 Cong. c. 75) it is then the province of the judiciary to decide whether there be any law that authorises the proceedings against him, and if there be none, to acquit him, not only of the present, but of all future prosecutions for the same cause: or if there be, then to examine it's validity under the constitution, as before-mentioned.
While some of the top-tier Founders within the Republican fold argued for a constitutional theory that would ultimately tear the Union apart, Tucker defended the idea of liberty under, rather than in opposition to, the Union of the States and the federalist system of government established by the Constitution. While Tucker did support the right of States to secede from the Union, that power did not justify nullification or efforts to abandon the role of the federal judiciary as defender of constitutional order.
For Tucker, the Union was grounded in the supremacy of the Constitution and protected by the glory of Anglo-American government: a truly independent judiciary. Tucker's constitutional vision was thus broadly consonant with the Federalist vision enunciated by Marshall. Unlike Jefferson and Madison's proposed solution, which set the stage for a Southern jurisprudence that would eventually justify an illegal attempt at succession, St. George Tucker sought to preserve both liberty and the Union. And did so through the principle of constitutional government & the mechanism of judicial review.
Recently, I wrote a paper on Ex parte Merryman (1861) (Taney, C.J.). Merryman was not a Supreme Court decision; rather, it was a Taney decision “in chambers,” or, possibly, a single-judge decision of the Circuit Court for the District of Maryland (where Taney, a native Marylander, had circuit-riding duty). Merryman dealt with, among other things, the validity of Lincoln’s suspension of habeas corpus at the outbreak of Civil War hostilities.
One of the interesting things about Merryman is that many commentators (including judges and academics in law, history, etc.) misstate the case’s facts, reasoning, and final disposition. For example, several academics have written that “martial law” was an issue in Merryman. See, e.g., Richard H. Fallon, Jr., Executive Power and the Political Constitution, 2007 Utah Law Review 1, 2 (“At stake in Merryman was the constitutional authority of the President to declare martial law . . . .”). Some even suggest that Merryman involved both martial law and the suspension of habeas corpus: a position which, although wrong, at least has the merit of distinguishing these two legal concepts. See, e.g., Geoffrey R. Stone, Civil Liberties in Wartime, 28(3) Journal of Supreme Court History 215, 220 (Nov. 2003) (“On April 27, to restore order in Baltimore and to enable Union forces to protect Washington, Lincoln suspended the writ of habeas corpus and declared martial law in Maryland.”) (peer reviewed). All of this is quite puzzling: neither Taney’s opinion, nor the party’s (extant) filings, nor Lincoln’s suspension order from April 27, 1861 mention martial law at all. Merryman’s facts—as far as I know—relate only to suspension issues, not to martial law.
I suspect that there may be a reason why this has happened. A large swathe of our modern academic elite is now so removed from the martial aspect of American history and American law that understanding the past (in its own terms) poses real challenges for them (and, perhaps, for us too and the Nation as a whole). Query: What percentage of our academic class is composed of veterans, and how does that compare to our population as a whole?
To understand the historically broad scope and egalitarian reach of American military service one need only consider: Alexander Hamilton (born abroad); Ulysses S. Grant (West Point educated, but not in the active military at the outbreak of the Civil War); Ely S. Parker (a Native American who rose to the rank of general during the Civil War and drafted the surrender terms at Gettysburg Appomattox Court House); and Walter Bedell Smith (who started his military service as a private in Indiana’s National Guard, but rose quickly through the officer ranks of the regular Army in World War I and World War II). All four had significant careers after their military service. This world—their world—has been replaced by an elite permanent full-time careerist officers corps, and a body of enlisted persons who (it appears) have not been drawn from the children of the aspiring upper middle and professional classes. My primary concern here is that if those with military careers are not drawn from all walks of American life, and, concomitantly, if the largest part of the officers corps serve for life, which was not the case in the 18th and 19th centuries, then it is likely that wider civil society will lack needful knowledge about the realities of war and military life.
If this disconnect between wider American society and an ever more specialized military exists as I describe it, then it is not really surprising that academics (outside the military) do not know the difference between martial law and the suspension of habeas corpus. (Query: Do you?) But if that is where American high culture is today, then that might mean that (what should be) the useful past cannot (easily) serve to educate our people when confronted by today’s problems. If the past has truly become a foreign country, it can throw little light on today’s world and today’s problems, and perhaps it supplies only misinformation, thereby adding noise, confusion, and delay.
Thank you Instapundit readers! See Glenn Reynolds, SETH BARRETT TILLMAN on the decline of American martial culture, Instapundit (Oct. 26, 2015, 1:00 PM), http://pjmedia.com/instapundit/217264/.
 See generally Seth Barrett Tillman, Ex parte Merryman: Myth, History, and Scholarship, Military Law Review (forthcoming circa Summer 2016) (peer reviewed), available at http://ssrn.com/abstract=2646888, also available at http://works.bepress.com/seth_barrett_tillman/561/.
 Is it a substantial problem that our military is now composed of an elite permanent full-time careerist officers corps, and a body of enlisted persons who (it appears) have not been drawn from the children of the aspiring upper middle and professional classes? In terms of actual military competence, my claim here—assuming it is correct—might be a feature, and not a bug.
Franklin's views on religious belief & the necessity of works are thus remarkably consistent over time, and far from evidencing a hostility or apathy towards religious life, manifests a concern that religion -- belief in a God who is an active creator & governor of the world -- must manifest itself in the life of the individual. While Franklin's creed is not expressly Christian (and was not intended to be), it certainly is not incompatible with orthodox Christianity. Franklin's creed could be affirmed, with perhaps only a minor quibble, by a Roman Catholic, for example, who steadfastly held to the decrees of the Council of Trent. And it would be completely consonant with the faith of Christian unitarians like John & Abigail Adams.
Franklin's statement of belief should put to rest any talk of him not being a theist. His God is no absentee landlord, but is an active presence in the world, who not only creates but "governs the World" via divine Providence. This God is worthy of worship -- including prayer and thanksgiving, indicating that Franklin believed that God acted in the lives of individual people -- hence the benefit of asking God for help (through prayer) and thanking Him for His blessings. Most touchingly to me, Franklin insists on the importance of good works in human life. The best way to serve this God is through good works, and that the judgment of each person's immortal soul will be based on what he or she has done in this life.
While not a regular churchgoer like Washington, or a Hebrew scholar like Madison, Franklin -- who attended no church regularly nor could read any biblical languages -- left a far clearer statement of faith than virtually any of the other major founders, Jefferson included. And it was a statement of faith that affirmed an active, providential Creator deity, a deity who would sit in judgment upon all human beings, rewarding and punishing them according to the deeds they did in this life.
Freemasonry was a surrogate religion for enlightened men suspicious of traditional Christianity. It offered ritual, mystery, and communality without the enthusiasm and sectarian bigotry of organized religion. But Masonry was not only an enlightened institution; with the Revolution, it became a republican one as well. As George Washington said, it was "a lodge for the virtues." As Masonic lodges had always been places where men who differed in everyday affairs -- politically, socially, even religiously -- could "all meet amicably, and converse sociably together." There in the lodges, the Masons told themselves, "we discover no estrangement of behavior, nor alienation of affection." Masonry had alway sought unity and harmony in a society increasingly diverse and fragmented. It traditionally had prided itself on being, as one Mason put it, "the Center of Union and the means of conciliating friendship among men that might otherwise have remained at perpetual distance."
As Wood makes clear, Masonry served a religious as well as a civic function. Its importance in the Founding Period was not simply social or political. It stood alongside Christianity as a source of religious values and perspective for many of the Founders.
When reading Hamilton on the Constitution, it is a good idea to recall the wise observation of Russell Kirk that original intent does not always = strict construction. On this point, most modern conservatives part ways with both Kirk & Hamilton when it comes to reading our nation's fundamental charter.
[T]he powers contained in a constitution of government, especially those which concern the general administration of the affairs of a country, its finances, trade, defense, etc., ought to be construed liberally in advancement of the public good. This rule does not depend on the particular form of a government, or on the particular demarcation of the boundaries of its powers, but on the nature and object of government itself. The means by which national exigencies are to be provided for, national inconveniences obviated, national prosperity promoted, are of such infinite variety, extent, and complexity, that there must of necessity be great latitude of discretion in the selection and application of those means. Hence, consequently, the necessity and propriety of exercising the authorities intrusted [sic] to a government on principles of liberal construction.
- Alexander Hamilton (1755-1804), Opinion as to the Constitutionality of the Bank of the United States, 1791.
A new year. “A new age: of hope, and peace, and spiritual growth, et cetera. And I am still here for my sins.” See Prime Minister Francis Urquhart, To Play the King [YouTube, (at 1:47ff)]. And another year for the European Parliament to award the Sakharov Prize for Freedom of Thought.
This year’s nominees include: Raif Badawi (Saudi Arabia); Democratic opposition in Venezuela embodied by the Mesa de la Unidad Democratica and political prisoners; and Boris Nemtsov (Russian Federation). I do not have much to say about the absolute or relative merits of the three nominees for this great European prize.
The Russian physicist Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov (1921-1989), who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1975, first came to prominence as the father of the Soviet hydrogen bomb.
Concerned at the implications his work had for the future of humankind, he sought to raise awareness of the dangers of the nuclear arms race. His efforts proved partially successful with the signing of the 1963 nuclear test ban treaty.
This is pretty thin gruel. Let me add a few details: Andrei Sakharov devoted the major part of his professional life towards developing thermonuclear weapons for the Soviet Union. He did this work under Stalin and under his successors. Sakharov’s work made it more difficult for the United States and the world’s other democracies to press for human rights reforms in the Soviet Union and the countries in its orbit—just as his work made it easier for the Soviet Union to threaten its neighbours and the countries of the world.
It is true, by the late 1950s, Sakharov had some second thoughts. He stood for human rights and arms control. And, I do not doubt that in doing so, he put his career, and indeed, his very life, at some real risk.
I guess the prize is associated with his deeds during the second phase of his life, not the first. General Longstreet killed a lot of Union troops, but after the Civil War, he broke with his former Confederate colleagues, led an integrated militia in battle in the 1870s, and even became a Republican! Is there a James Longstreet Prize somewhere? I suspect there is not. Rommel was part of the conspiracy to kill Hitler, and he was killed for his (failed) efforts. Is there a Rommel Prize somewhere? I doubt it.
I do not suggest that Sakharov, Longstreet, or Rommel were evil men, but they did serve bad causes. I do not say that the good they did (or attempted to do) during their lives is made void by the bad. But I do say it is wrong to suggest that the bad is outweighed by the good. Cf. Edmund Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790) (“I do not say [God forbid], I do not say that the virtues of such men were to be taken as a balance to their crimes; but they were some corrective to their effects.” (language in brackets is Burke's)). Such a moral quantification of right and wrong is not possible by mere mortals, and those who attempt such a calculus only callous our consciences.
PPS: Thank you Instapundit. See Glenn Reynolds, A NEW YEAR, A NEW AGE: The European Parliament’s Sakharov Prize for Freedom of Thought 2015, Instapundit (Oct. 18, 2015, 9:56 PM), http://pjmedia.com/instapundit/216797/.
In the 19th century Brazil, like the United States, was a commodity producer tied to the British market. Britain was the leading investor in both the US and Brazil, and Britain ate up the lion’s share of their exports. But there was a difference: the United States did some things that Brazil did not. We established manufacturing and financial sectors in our economy that could ultimately rival Great Britain in those fields, and we became a producer of new technologies and world-class companies.
19th century Brazil never managed to build those additional dimensions of a strong market economy. In a sense, all of Brazil continued to develop like the American South: a commodity exporting economy based on slavery (not abolished until the 1880s) and peonage. And like the Confederacy, Brazilians long favored a decentralized form of government in which states largely ignored the central government in Rio.
Decentralization spared Brazil some of the bitter social conflicts that shook countries like Mexico and Argentina in the first century of independence, but there was nobody like Alexander Hamilton, Henry Clay and Daniel Webster with the power and the will to turn Brazil into a cutting edge economic power.
Read it all. It cannot be emphasized enought that the prosperity of the United States is built not on an agrarian Jeffersonian vision -- the kind of economic policy that lead Brazil into over a century of economic malaise -- but on the vision of men like Alexander Hamilton.
However paradoxical it may appear at first sight, we find when we examine actual cases that communities create a shared sentiment, a oneness, and a loyalty through selective differentiation of the persons who make them up. A society is a structure with many levels, offices, and roles, and the reason we feel grateful to the idea of society is that one man's filling his role makes it possible for another to fill his role, and so on. Because the policeman is doing his policeman's job, the owner of the bakery can sleep well at night. Because plumbers and electricians are performing their functions, doctors and lawyers are free to perform theirs, and the reverse. This is a truistic observation, no doubt, but too little attention is given to the fact that society exists in and through it variegation and multiplicity, and when we speak of a society's "breaking down," we mean exactly a confusing of these roles, a loss of differentiation, and a consequent waning of the feeling of loyalty. Society makes possible the idea of vocation, which is the primary source of distinctions.
- Richard M. Weaver (1910-1963), Life without Prejudice, reprinted in In Defense of Tradition: Collected Shorter Writings of Richard M. Weaver, 1929-1963, ed. by Ted. J. Smith III (Liberty Fund: 2000), pg. 89.
Weaver was one of the authors who helped me to understand that we come to know who we are, and we find our path in life, through community. Any philosophy or political movement that seeks to undermine community and substitute it with either a totalist collectivism or atomized individualism can never serve as a vehicle for authentic humanism. To be human is to live in community with others.
Why do human beings have laws?
Man has a natural aptitude for virtue; but the perfection of virtue must be acquired by man by means of some kind of training. Thus we observe that man is helped by industry in his necessities, for instance, in food and clothing. Certain beginnings of these he has from nature, viz. his reason and his hands; but he has not the full complement, as other animals have, to whom nature has given sufficiency of clothing and food. Now it is difficult to see how man could suffice for himself in the matter of this training: since the perfection of virtue consists chiefly in withdrawing man from undue pleasures, to which above all man is inclined, and especially the young, who are more capable of being trained.
Consequently a man needs to receive this training from another, whereby to arrive at the perfection of virtue. And as to those young people who are inclined to acts of virtue, by their good natural disposition, or by custom, or rather by the gift of God, paternal training suffices, which is by admonitions. But since some are found to be depraved, and prone to vice, and not easily amenable to words, it was necessary for such to be restrained from evil by force and fear, in order that, at least, they might desist from evil-doing, and leave others in peace, and that they themselves, by being habituated in this way, might be brought to do willingly what hitherto they did from fear, and thus become virtuous. Now this kind of training, which compels through fear of punishment, is the discipline of laws. Therefore in order that man might have peace and virtue, it was necessary for laws to be framed: for, as the Philosopher [Aristotle] says (Politics. i, 2), "as man is the most noble of animals if he be perfect in virtue, so is he the lowest of all, if he be severed from law and righteousness"; because man can use his reason to devise means of satisfying his lusts and evil passions, which other animals are unable to do.
—St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), Summa Theologica/Treatise on Law, I, II, Q. 95, Art. 1, translated by the Fathers of the English Dominican Province (Benzinger Bros., 1947).
The basis of the Union: judicial doctrine or common agreement of the States?
The wise lawyer from frontier Illinois had a sophisticated and compelling argument, grounded both in history and in legal theory, regarding the nature of the Union. It is often salutary to return to first principles from time to time, and Lincoln's theory of the Union, expressed in his First Inaugural Address, is one that bears close reading. For Lincoln, the embodiment of the nation's character was not a judicially-created reading of the Constitution, but the fundamental agreement of the States themselves, an agreement reflected by the Constitution but one that also pre-existed the current Constitution and the Articles of Confederation that preceded it.
I hold that, in contemplation of universal law and of the Constitution, the Union of these States is perpetual. Perpetuity is implied, if not expressed, in the fundamental law of all national governments. It is safe to assert that no government proper ever had a provision in its organic law for its own termination. Continue to execute all the express provisions of our National Constitution, and the Union will endure forever—it being impossible to destroy it except by some action not provided for in the instrument itself. Again, if the United States be not a government proper, but an association of States in the nature of contract merely, can it, as a contract, be peaceably unmade by less than all the parties who made it? One party to a contract may violate it—break it, so to speak; but does it not require all to lawfully rescind it? Descending from these general principles, we find the proposition that, in legal contemplation the Union is perpetual confirmed by the history of the Union itself. The Union is much older than the Constitution. It was formed, in fact, by the Articles of Association in 1774. It was matured and continued by the Declaration of Independence in 1776. It was further matured, and the faith of all the then thirteen States expressly plighted and engaged that it should be perpetual, by the Articles of Confederation in 1778. And, finally, in 1787 one of the declared objects for ordaining and establishing the Constitution was "to form a more perfect Union." But if the destruction of the Union by one or by a part only of the States be lawfully possible, the Union is less perfect than before the Constitution, having lost the vital element of perpetuity.
- Russell Kirk (1918-1994), American historian and conservative writer, Enemies of the Permanent Things (1969).
Read the statement for the rationale. Read Robert George and Ryan Anderson for the merits of marriage [but agreement is not a prerequisite to supporting the statement].
The peculiar power of the Court – “hav[ing] neither FORCE nor WILL, but merely judgment” (Federalist #78) – must support itself, if at all, by haunting the mind of the governed: we have nothing for judgment but judgment itself. Well that we might finally exercise good judgment, so that we might exorcise the bad.
If the policy of the Government upon vital questions affecting the whole people is to be irrevocably fixed by decisions of the Supreme Court, . . . the people will have ceased to be their own rulers, having to that extent practically resigned their Government into the hands of that eminent tribunal.
As Matthew Franck adds: Lincoln also "instructed the Department of State to issue passports on request to free black Americans, ignoring the holding of the Taney Court that blacks were not considered citizens of the United States by the language of the Constitution. For another, he encouraged and signed legislation in 1862 banning slavery in all western territories, in direct contradiction of the Dred Scott holding that such legislation was unconstitutional."
The doctrine of judicial review – the power of the courts to review the acts of its coordinate branches of government – was unharmed by Lincoln. The "duty...to say what the law is,” the mantra devolved from that hoary old Marbury v. Madison, is not, as the incautious modern reader is wont to assume, an assertion of any exclusive authority to dictate the substance of Constitutional meaning. It simply makes the point that one branch may not dictate hermeneutics to another. Writing from a more familiar century, Adkins v. Children's Hospital in 1927 explained the power as simply to “declare and enforce the rule of the supreme law and reject that of an inferior act of legislation . . . . This is not the exercise of a substantive power to review and nullify acts of Congress, for no such substantive power exists."
Well that these scholars are standing against the myth of judicial supremacy.
The core problem, I think, is that Supreme Court doctrine has strayed far from the original meaning of the scope of federal power granted by the Constitution. Today’s constitutional doctrine permits a scope of federal power that is much broader than the original meaning of the Commerce Clause and Necessary and Proper clause would allow. When interpreting the scope of federal power, then, you need to decide what you will follow: The original meaning or case precedents. As I read Judge Vinson’s opinion, he mixes the two. Judge Vinson jumps back and forth between purporting to apply Supreme Court precedents and purporting to interpret the Commerce Clause and Necessary and Proper clause in light of its original meaning. Judge Vinson spends about half of the legal analysis on original meaning and about half of the legal analysis on precedent, and he seems to treat both as important.
[T]here’s a technical problem here that I want to draw out: Judge Vinson is only a District Court judge. Under the principle of vertical stare decisis, he is bound by Supreme Court precedent. See, e.g, Winslow v. F.E.R.C., 587 F.3d 1133. 1135 (D.C. Cir. 2009) (Kavanaugh, J.) (“Vertical stare decisis — both in letter and in spirit — is a critical aspect of our hierarchical Judiciary headed by ‘one supreme Court.’”) (citing U.S. Const. art. III, § 1). And when Supreme Court precedent conflicts with original meaning, Judge Vinson is bound to follow the former. Of course, that doesn’t mean a District Court can’t discuss the original meaning of a constitutional provision in his opinion. But where the original meaning and case precedents conflict, the judge is stuck: Because he is bound by Supreme Court doctrine, the judge has to apply the doctrine established by the Supreme Court and has to ignore the original meaning.
I think Kerr is on to something here, as far as the practicalities of how trial courts are supposed to rule in light of precedent from appellate courts within the trial court's jurisdiction (and the Supreme Court's jurisdiction covers the entire country). The trial court judge is bound by those precedents and cannot disregard them, even if he or she thinks that the precedents are wrongly decided. So long as the precedents are on point to the relevant issues in the case, the judge is, as Kerr puts it, "stuck." He or she has to follow those precedents. The judge is certainly at liberty to point out where he or she thinks the Supreme Court has gotten it wrong and why, but the trial court judge isn't free to decline to apply Supreme Court precedent. As long as that precedent stands, the trial court is bound to follow it.
Related item: Clinical law professor William Jacobson over at Legal Insurrection provides an overview of Judge Vinson's ruling here. Well worth a read. A strong case can be made that the judge was substantively correct in his originalist analysis. The question is, was that the kind of analysis he should have been making in light of the relevant Supreme Court case law?
One of the most frustrating things about participating in debate about the meaning of the Constitution is dealing with the standard originalist narrative (“SON”). The SON is powerful. A good part of its power lies in the fact that those who are under its spell have never considered its correctness. Alternatively, if they continue to adhere to the SON after having considered its correctness, there are many who nevertheless fail to let their readers know that the narrative is contested. Debate takes place infrequently if at all. Only one voice is regularly heard. The counter-position is a voice confined to the margins of academia and to the margins of high culture (including high judicial culture).
Let me give you my favourite example. You will find repeated statements in judicial opinions and academic articles (in law and other fields) to the effect that oaths (or affirmations) were central to the Framers’ constitutional vision. So central, in fact, that all government officials, federal and state, are required by the text of the Constitution to take an oath (or affirmation) to support the Constitution. See, e.g., Eakin v. Raub, 12 Serg. & Rawle 330, 353 (Pa. 1825) (Gibson, J., dissenting) (“The oath to support the constitution is not peculiar to the judges, but is taken indiscriminately by every officer of the government, and is designed rather as a test of the political principles of the man, than to bind the officer in the discharge of his duty . . . .”); Michael Stokes Paulsen, The Constitution of Necessity, 79 Notre Dame L. Rev. 1257, 1261 (2004) (describing the Article VI oath as “universal” and applying to “all federal and state officers”); Diana Schaub, Dysfunction Is No Excuse for Misreading the Constitution, Library of Law & Liberty (Oct. 9, 2015), (“A non-member Speaker would be the only office-holder in our system not bound by [the Article VI] oath.” (emphasis added)); see also, e.g., Paul Horwitz, Honor’s Constitutional Moment: The Oath and Presidential Transitions, 103 Nw. U. L. Rev. 1067, 1069 (2009) (“Under Article VI of the Constitution, every federal and state officer takes an oath or affirmation to ‘support this Constitution.’” (citing Article VI, Clause 3) (emphasis in the original)); Michael Stokes Paulsen, Does the Constitution Prescribe Rules for Its Own Interpretation?, 103 Nw. U. L. Rev. 857, 920 (2009) (“It is ‘this Constitution’—a specific written text—that all officers of government swear to support and to be bound by, according to its written terms.” (emphasis added)); Judge William H. Pryor, Jr., The Religious Faith and Judicial Duty of an American Catholic Judge, 24 Yale L. & Pol’y Rev. 347, 350 (2006) (“The Framers required in Article VI of the Constitution that all the officers of our government, including judges, ‘be bound by oath or affirmation, to support th[e] Constitution.’” (emphasis added)).
The Senators and Representatives . . . and the members of the several state legislatures, and all executive and judicial officers, both of the United States and of the several states, shall be bound by oath or affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States.
Why the changed language? We do not usually suppose that neighbouring text—in the very same sentence—which varies has identical meaning. Rather, different language implies different meaning. So the two clauses probably do not both extend to all federal positions. It seems to follow that only one of the two clauses may have that meaning (i.e., extending to all federal positions) and that the other clause reaches only a subset of all federal positions. If only one clause could reach all federal positions, is not the better choice the RTC? Can we come up with any likely choice of a federal position which the Framers would have willingly extended a religious test to? In fact, during ratification, was it not pellucidly clear that the RTC reached any and all federal positions?
If the RTC reaches all federal positions, then the OAC does not. What federal positions, if any, were left out and beyond the reach of the OAC?
Again, this is a puzzle, but it is not a difficult one. The OAC’s “judicial officer” language includes the federal judges at every level and their staffs (e.g., the clerks of the courts). The “executive officers” language includes the President’s subordinates (e.g., the cabinet), and the President’s oath is separately provided for in Article II. But when it comes to Congress, the OAC only includes elected officials, e.g., Senators and Representatives. Non-member congressional staff (e.g., Clerk of the House and Secretary of the Senate) are not included. See, e.g., Steven G. Calabresi, Response, The Political Question of Presidential Succession, 48 Stan. L. Rev. 155, 162 (1995) (“No constitutional oath is required of [non-member subordinate] legislative officers, like the Clerk of the House or the Secretary of the Senate . . . .”). We could have a conversation about why these congressional positions were left out. I have some theories on this matter, but we do not need to have that conversation because the text is clear.
But the problem goes deeper. It is not just congressional staff which are beyond the aegis of this OAC.
Consider these elected positions: (1) presidential electors; (2) elected territorial officials (including the members of its legislature); (3) elected national constitutional convention members meeting under the authority of Article V for the purpose of proposing amendments to the federal constitution; (4) elected state constitutional convention members meeting under the authority of Article V for the purpose of ratifying or rejecting proposed amendments to the federal constitution; (5) elected state (or territorial) constitutional convention members meeting under the authority of a state (or territorial) constitution for the purpose of amending the state (or territorial) constitution; and, (6) the Vice President of the United States (albeit, this has been and remains a matter of debate). Why? All elected positions are beyond the scope of Article VI's “officer of the United States” language. See United States v. Mouat, 124 U.S. 303, 307 (1888) (Miller, J.) (“Unless a person in the service of the Government, therefore holds his place by virtue of an appointment by the President, or of one of the courts of justice or heads of Departments authorized by law to make such an appointment, he is not strictly speaking, an officer of the United States.” (emphasis added)).
Consider these appointed positions: (1) all House, Senate, and congressional staff (e.g., Clerk of the House, Secretary of the Senate, sergeants at arms of each house, door keepers of each house, the Architect of the Capitol, and members’ chiefs of staff); (2) advisors to the President—even those situated in the White House—who lack individualized legal discretion or power to affect binding legal relations; (3) territorial officers appointed by elected nonjudicial territorial officials; (4) American nominees or appointees to treaty-created offices; (5) multistate compact officials; (6) holders of letters of marque and reprisal; and, (7) trustees, directors, members, and officers (and, perhaps, employees, and other agents) of federally chartered trusts, corporations, and other private entities with legal personality.
Other positions beyond the scope of the OAC include: (1) voters in federal elections; (2) jurors on federal juries (and federal grand juries); (3) attorneys admitted to practice before the bar of a federal court; (4) enlisted federal (or state) military personnel (including the modern National Guard); (5) permanent or ad hoc federal civil servants; (6) federal contractors (including private jailors); (7) qui tam plaintiffs asserting a federal cause of action in a federal forum; (8) individuals affiliated with private entities created under state (or federal, or even foreign) law in which significant equity (or, possibly, debt) is held by the United States government; (9) individuals serving in an ad hoc common law posse comitatus under a United States marshal or under a United States attorney (or under a state or territorial Executive Branch official where federal law or a federal writ is being enforced); and, (10) individuals serving in private bodies authorized by federal law to create codes of conduct for members, to adjudicate disputes involving members, and/or to enforce such codes in proceedings involving members (albeit the constitutionality of such delegations to private bodies has been and remains contested).
To the extent these functionaries are subject to an oath to uphold the Constitution, it is because of a statute, not because of Article VI. Moreover, where such an oath is imposed, it is imposed wholly at the discretion of Congress—these oaths are not mandatory in the sense that they are constitutionally commanded.
But the standard originalist narrative survives.
PPS: If you liked this post, you may also want to read: A Non-member Speaker, the Debate, and its Lessons, The Originalism Blog (October 12, 2015, 6:04 AM).

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