Executive power

  • April 6, 2015
    Guest Post

    by Alan B. Morrison, the Lerner Family Associate Dean for Public Interest and Public Service Law; Professional Lecturer in Law, George Washington University Law School

    The area near the border between Texas and Mexico is a dangerous one, especially if you are a liberal Democrat from the North trying to deal with about 11.3 million individuals who are not lawfully in the United States, when the budget and the personnel to operate existing systems will not enable you to deport more than 400,000 a year. And judging from the February 16 opinion in Texas v. United States by District Judge Andrew Hanen, who sits in the Brownsville Federal Court located there, the courthouse is not a safe place to be either.

    Judge Hanen’s ruling, which runs 123 pages and was followed by a three-page preliminary injunction, has so much in it that it is impossible to do more in an essay like this than to summarize the key points. Meanwhile, the Federal Government has appealed and is seeking a stay in the Fifth Circuit, which will be heard on April 17. But first, let’s start with what Judge Hanen did and then take a look at the appellate posture. 

    The first step is to recognize who in the Executive Branch did what that precipitated the lawsuit. Although the popular notion is that it was a decision of President Obama that was being challenged, the President did not issue an executive order or anything else to bring about these changes: he left those to the Secretary of Homeland Security, Jeb Johnson.  This choice may actually matter here because the flaw that Judge Hanen identified – failure to comply with the Administrative Procedure Act (APA) – applies only to agency officials, which excludes the President. 

    Secretary Johnson, acting with at least the president’s blessing, if not at his direction, created a new program for parents of children lawfully in the United States – Deferred Action for Parents of Americans and Lawful Aliens (DAPA) – and expanded the existing program for children – Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA).  Each has two major components.  First, they direct agency officials not to deport otherwise deportable aliens who fall into certain categories whose presence in the U.S. does not present significant dangers to the country, mainly parents of others authorized to be in the U.S. Second, they authorize the estimated 4.3 million individuals who fall in each category to receive federal work authorizations, which aliens need to obtain a legal job, as well as other benefits that flow from being authorized to work. The legal issues for the two parts are different, but before turning to those questions, there is the ever-present and often devilish issue of standing or, in lay language, what says you have a right to sue over this claim?

  • March 16, 2015
    Guest Post

    by Peter M. Shane, the Jacob E. Davis and Jacob E. Davis II Chair in Law, Moritz College of Law, Ohio State University

    Decades ago, the late constitutional scholar Charles Black offered an important functional justification for giving federal courts the power to say “no” to unconstitutional laws and executive actions: It is the judicial power to say “no” that gives the judicial power to say “yes” its legitimating force. Government benefits mightily when a judicial opinion upholding official action puts at rest, if not an underlying policy debate, then at least the public’s interest in prolonging a constitutional battle about whether the challenged action is at least lawful.  Such seems to have been the result in 2011when the Supreme Court upheld the Affordable Care Act.  A judicial imprimatur can have this beneficial impact, however, only if the public understands that courts make independent judgments.

    For this reason, despite powerful legal arguments that U.S. District Court Judge Andrew Hanen should not have reached the merits of any issue regarding the Department of Homeland Security’s program of “Deferred Action for Parents of Americans and Lawful Permanent Residents” (DAPA), the country may be better off once a court does so. My difficulty with Judge Hanen’s massively overwritten 123-page opinion in Texas v. United States is not that Texas got past threshold procedural barriers to judicial review. It is that, in an ideologically driven opinion, Judge Hanen simply gets the law wrong.

    As a formal matter, Judge Hanen grants Texas the preliminary injunction it seeks because he deems Texas likely to succeed in challenging the DAPA policy on a procedural basis, namely, publication of the policy without an opportunity for public comment under the Administrative Procedure Act. His conclusion on this point is wrong, as I discuss below, but perhaps foreordained by a more glaring error. Although Judge Hanen purports to rule only on procedural grounds, his opinion makes crystal clear that he thinks DAPA exceeds the DHS Secretary’s legal authority. His analysis is framed by an overarching narrative about how a supposedly feckless federal government is victimizing the helpless states by simultaneously hoarding to itself all authority over immigration and then abandoning a constitutional duty to protect the states from the burdens imposed by the presence in the U.S. of millions of undocumented immigrants. (If you want to see what judicial empathy for a plaintiff looks like, reading Judge Hanen’s 47-page analysis of Texas’s standing to sue would make a good start.) 

    Judge Hanen’s framing is doubly unfortunate. First, it ignores the ways in which the DAPA program would boost state economies and accompanying tax revenues. As 14 states and the District of Columbia have argued in an amicus brief supporting DAPA: “When immigrants are able to work legally—even for a limited time—their wages increase, they seek work compatible with their skill level, and they enhance their skills to obtain higher wages, all of which benefits State economies by increasing income and growing the tax base.” Moreover, Judge Hanen’s narrative of states as victims leads him to four outright mischaracterizations of DAPA.

    To see these misconceptions starkly, it is helpful to consider that the measures DHS Secretary Jeh Johnson implemented through two memoranda on November 20, 2014 effectively accomplish three things. First, they establish national immigration enforcement priorities, instructing all immigration agencies within DHS as to the highest priorities for detention and removal, as well as the criteria for a new program of deferred action for parents of U.S. citizens and other legally permanent residents. With or without DAPA, DHS’s immigration components would be free to follow these priorities in their law enforcement activities.

  • January 14, 2015
    BookTalk
    Reclaiming Accountability
    Transparency, Executive Power, and the U.S. Constitution
    By: 
    Heidi Kitrosser

    by Heidi Kitrosser, Professor of Law, University of Minnesota Law School

    It is fairly well known by now that the Obama administration has prosecuted more persons for allegedly leaking classified information to journalists than all previous administrations combined.  Yet much less attention has been paid to the legal justifications offered for these prosecutions. 

    Like its predecessors, the Obama administration has consistently maintained in litigation that communications conveying classified information to journalists are “wholly unprotected by the First Amendment.”  This argument, which has been largely successful in the handful of prosecutions to reach courts over the years, rests on the notion that speech about government activities – speech that ordinarily would be deeply protected from content-based prosecution under the First Amendment – loses all protection once marked by the classification stamp.  That stamp is wielded by the millions of persons with some form of classification authority, authority that stems primarily from presidential executive order.

  • December 12, 2014
    Guest Post

    by Chris Edelson is an assistant professor of government in American University's School of Public Affairs. He is the author of Emergency Presidential Power: From the Drafting of the Constitution to the War on Terror, published in 2013 by the University of Wisconsin Press.

    In his piece, “Torture Is Who We Are,” Peter Beinart rightly exposes the Pollyanish mindset that would describe the United States as “intrinsically moral” with torture that has occurred since 9/11 “represent[ing] an aberration.” Beinart is of course right to point out that post-9/11 waterboarding is hardly the first time in U.S. history that Americans have been guilty of torture -- he cites slavery, waterboarding of Filipino prisoners during the Spanish-American War and electric shocks delivered to the genitals of prisoners during the Vietnam War as some grotesque examples. There are others. Civilian law enforcement authorities used waterboarding and sleep deprivation on domestic criminal suspects decades before 9/11. A U.S. soldier waterboarded a Vietnamese prisoner in 1968

    So Beinart is right in one sense -- torture is not something new in American history. It cannot be seen as an aberration from a previously morally upright, torture-free history. But there is one important difference that he misses, that makes his analysis more pessimistic than it need be.  Torture by Americans is not new. The idea that Americans can torture with impunity, however, is new. In each of the examples I listed, there were consequences for the torturers. A Texas sheriff and his deputies who waterboarded a criminal suspect were themselves convicted and sentenced to prison. The U.S. soldier who waterboarded a Vietnamese prisoner was court-martialed. When law enforcement authorities subjected a suspect to questioning for 36 hours without sleep, the Supreme Court threw out a conviction based on the coerced confession that had been extracted.  The same is true for one of Beinart’s examples.  A U.S. military officer who waterboarded Filipino prisoners was court-martialed, suspended from command for one month and fined $50.  Moreover, before 9/11, even when torture was not punished, no one proudly defended it or attempted to justify it -- instead, it was swept under the rug, as often happened during the Vietnam War. There is one essential exception to emphasize: slavery.  Slaveowners openly tortured slaves with impunity.  This is of course a central fact of American history, not truly an “exception”, except in the limited sense that it varies from the other examples I have given where torture before 9/11 was either punished or else covered up.  What has changed since 9/11 as compared with most of the examples noted is that there are now people willing, even proud, to defiantly defend torture

    Beinart is correct that “America has tortured throughout its history.” Before 9/11, however, there were usually consequences for torture: torturers faced prosecution and punishment in the criminal justice system. This is part of what it means to be true to the rule of law: when the law is violated, offenders are punished. No country can guarantee that all of its law enforcement officials, soldiers, or government officials, will refrain from torture. But countries that uphold the rule of law can guarantee that torturers will be prosecuted. 

  • December 10, 2014
    Guest Post

    by Chris Edelson, an assistant professor of government in American University's School of Public Affairs. He is the author of Emergency Presidential Power: From the Drafting of the Constitution to the War on Terror, published in 2013 by the University of Wisconsin Press.

    Following release of the redacted Senate Intelligence Committee's majority report on torture, critics are insisting that the report overlooks the value of waterboarding, sleep deprivation and other interrogation methods better suited to the Spanish Inquisition than a constitutional republic. Those who defend torture tend to emphasize its supposed efficacy in extracting intelligence that prevents terrorist attacks.  In fact, those who insist torture saves lives have never identified evidence that proves their case.

    More importantly, however, arguing about the efficacy of torture point obscures two essential points: (1) torture, by definition, is illegal and (2) the argument in defense of torture is a rejection of the rule of law.

    Defenders of the Bush administration’s tactics have helped make these points clear. For example, on yesterday's “Morning Joe,” former Bush communications chief Nicolle Wallace declared that she “pray[s] to god that until the end of time, we do whatever we have to do to find out what’s happening [in terms of planned terrorist attacks].” She suggested that we must trust the government to do whatever it believes is necessary to protect the nation -- in her words, “I don’t care what [the government] did” after 9/11 to prevent another terrorist attack -- as long as it works.                                         

    Wallace is an effective and powerful speaker, and I thought her bombastic approach caught her sparring partner, Howard Dean, off guard and made for good TV. But it's worth taking more time than cable TV allows in considering the implications of what she said.

    Wallace's argument is a case for handing over power to the executive branch, assigning it complete power to defend the nation, unrestrained by law. That is, of course, not what the framers of the U.S. Constitution had in mind when they created a system of checks and balances designed to give government enough power to carry out is responsibilities but also to set definable limits on that power. It is, however, precisely how government officials who authorized torture justified their actions. In once-secret memos written on August 1, 2002, former Justice Department lawyers John Yoo and Jay Bybee concluded that waterboarding, sleep deprivation and other methods CIA interrogators wanted to use on suspected al Qaeda leader Abu Zubaydah could not be defined as torture. Their view depended on the preposterous notion that severe physical pain necessary to constitute torture under U.S. criminal law could be defined by reference to health care statutes. But it is the backup argument that Yoo and Bybee relied on that is most chilling: they concluded that President George W. Bush could authorize any interrogation methods he deemed necessary, even if such methods violated U.S. criminal law. The president, they said, could not be constrained by Congress in this area.  

    That is the language of an executive branch above the law, the same language Wallace uses when she says that she doesn't care what the government did to prevent terrorist attacks after 9/11, that it must do whatever is necessary. Bush administration lawyers agreed, concluding that the executive branch is not constrained by law.