Profiting off the Presidency: Trump’s Violations of the Emoluments Clauses

This blog is one in a series of blogs in a symposium examining different legal aspects of the impeachment inquiry of President Trump. View the entire Impeachment Blog Symposium.

President Donald Trump has been violating the Constitution since noon on January 20, 2017. His decision in the months prior to his inauguration to retain ownership and control of his sprawling business empire—a move that went against both long-standing historical practice and the advice of career government ethics officials—put him at odds with the Constitution’s original anti-corruption provisions the moment he was sworn in. Generally, these anti-corruption provisions, the so-called Emoluments Clauses, prohibit the president from receiving any profit, gain, or advantage from any foreign or domestic government. Impeachment, as outlined by Alexander Hamilton in Federalist 65, is a political remedy (though not the only remedy) for a president’s egregious violations of these prohibitions.

The Framers of the Constitution were acutely aware of the dangers presented by foreign influence on the president—even in situations subtler than quid pro quo bribery. This is why they created a broad prophylactic rule to prevent foreign governments from essentially purchasing undue influence. Specifically, this rule prohibits anyone holding any “Office of Profit or Trust under the United States” from receiving any “emolument” from foreign powers. An emolument, for purposes of the Constitution, according to two courts and scholarly historical review of contemporaneous usage, is any “profit, gain or advantage.” This rule is what has become known as the Foreign Emoluments Clause, and is located at Article I, Section 9, Clause 8.

In addition, the Framers were very worried about undue influence from the individual states in the union, and by officials profiteering from new federal offices. They were writing the Constitution in part as a response to the problems that had arisen due to the very weak central government outlined in the Articles of Confederation, which predate the Constitution. Under the government outlined in the Articles, the states had much more power than the federal government. Consequently, the Framers were concerned that a powerful state like Virginia might sway the president’s decisionmaking to its own benefit. Further, they confronted concerns that officials in the new government were corruptly blending public and private ventures. For example, Robert Morris, the superintendent of finance under the Confederation, was routinely accused of corruption, accusations that risked weakening public support for the Union. To prevent against these types of abuses, the Framers developed the Domestic Emoluments Clause, at Article II, Section 1, Clause 7, which is a blanket prohibition against the president receiving any sort of advantage from any state government, or from the new federal government.

View our frequently updated Impeachment Resources for analysis by legal experts in the ACS network.

It is worth reiterating that the emoluments clauses are our country’s original anti-corruption laws. They are written into the document that created our government and defined our system of law. President Trump’s corruption has been one of the defining stories of his presidency and has begun to normalize levels of corrupt and unethical behavior that we have not seen in decades—if ever.

As such, while Trump’s specific constitutional violations are critical to determining his legal liability, an impeachment investigation can and should go beyond the specific letter of the law to other areas that violate the basic anti-corruption spirit of the clauses. So, for example, during the bombshell July 25, 2019, conversation that catalyzed the current impeachment inquiry, the president of Ukraine tried to curry favor with President Trump by mentioning that he patronized Trump’s business. While this incident itself might not rise to the level of a strict constitutional violation because Zelensky was not elected when he spent money at Trump’s property, it, and other similar incidents, should still be part of an impeachment investigation as they represent significant violations of the spirit of the Constitution. This particular incident—where a foreign power is using a private connection to the president’s finances to curry favor—is a perfect encapsulation of the type of threat the Framers had in mind when they wrote the Foreign Emoluments Clause.

This brings us back to the original sin of this administration—the president’s decision not to divest from the ownership of his businesses. None of these issues, whether it’s the president of Ukraine trying to curry favor with the president in order to buy more missiles, the government of Saudi Arabia funding hundreds of thousands of dollars in spending at his D.C. hotel prior to murdering a U.S. journalist, or the Romanian president patronizing the Trump Hotel in Washington the day before meeting with the president, would have been a problem if he had fully divested from his businesses.

In every prior presidential impeachment proceeding in our country’s history, a central element of the charges was that the president—be it Johnson, Nixon or Clinton—acted in a manner contrary to his position of trust as president. The remedy for egregious violations of the public trust is impeachment. Throughout his tenure in office, President Trump’s conduct has undermined public faith that the government acts only for the good of the American people rather than for his own self-enrichment. This belief in an impartial, neutral government is critical for democracy to function; once the integrity of government institutions comes into question, the faith in the entire government superstructure breaks down.

The Framers were unambiguous in this respect. Impeachment is a proper remedy for egregious violations of the emoluments clauses’ prohibitions on accepting things of value from prohibited sources. Edmund Randolph, one of Virginia’s delegates to the Constitutional Convention, noted pointedly that there was “another provision against the danger . . . of the President receiving emoluments from foreign powers. If discovered he may be impeached.” Undermining the legitimacy of our democratic institutions to make private profit off of the office of the presidency strikes at the heart of what Alexander Hamilton described as “injuries done immediately to the society itself.”

This type of harm, he argued, can only be remedied by impeachment.

Don't Forget the Cover-Up(s): On Trump's Abuse of the Executive's Secret-Keeping Powers

This blog is one in a series of blogs in a symposium examining different legal aspects of the impeachment inquiry of President Trump. View the entire Impeachment Blog Symposium.

In Federalist 65, Alexander Hamilton described impeachment as directed toward “the abuse or violation of some public trust.” It is hard to envision acts more squarely within that definition than those that entail leveraging the awesome powers of the presidency solely for the president’s own personal or political gain. A number of commentators have argued – convincingly, in my view – that the President’s efforts to pressure Ukraine to take actions harmful to a political rival may well constitute such an abuse. In this post, however, I wish to focus on a related issue that is also shaping up to be part of the House’s impeachment inquiry: President Trump’s misuse of the executive’s secret-keeping tools to keep Congress and the American people in the dark about his actions toward Ukraine. As I explain below, the House of Representatives must include in its impeachment inquiries at least two such abuses: First, the President’s alleged misuse of the classification system to hide records of his communications with world leaders in order to protect himself personally and politically, and second, the President’s possible role in attempting to keep the August 2019 whistleblower complaint from the congressional intelligence committees and to intimidate the whistleblower, his or her sources, and other potential whistleblowers. Finally, should the House include these transgressions in one or more articles of impeachment, they would be wise to situate them within President Trump’s broader pattern of abusing the executive’s vast secret-keeping powers not to protect the national interest, but to keep from the American people and their representatives information that might embarrass him or otherwise harm him personally.

To find a potential abuse of the classification system, we need look no further than the now-famous whistleblower complaint. After describing the July 25th phone call between President Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, the whistleblower recounts having been told by White House officials that White House lawyers directed them to “remove the electronic transcript [of the call] from the computer system in which such transcripts are typically stored.” Instead, writes the whistleblower,

 

the transcript was loaded into a separate system that is otherwise used to store and handle classified information of an especially sensitive nature. One White House official described this act as an abuse of this electronic system because the call did not contain anything remotely sensitive from a national security perspective.

 

White House officials also told the whistleblower that “this was ‘not the first time’ under this Administration that a Presidential transcript was placed into this codeword-level system solely for the purpose of protecting politically sensitive – rather than national security sensitive – information.”

As part of their impeachment inquiry, House members must investigate whether the President himself ordered or encouraged such abuses of the classification system. Such presidential involvement would hardly be a surprise. Readers might recall that, among the earliest targets of President Trump’s wrath toward “deep state” subterfuge, were whoever leaked embarrassing details of his phone calls with world leaders. The New York Times recently reported that these early leaks indeed inspired the White House to curtail access to call records.

Apart from the contents of the whistleblower’s complaint, the President’s reaction to the complaint itself warrants investigation as a possible abuse of power. We know from a now-public recording that the President told a crowd of staff and families of the U.S. delegation to the United Nations that whoever “gave the whistleblower the information” is “close to a spy,” and asked, “You know what we used to do in the old days when we were smart? Right? With spies and treason, right? We used to handle them a little differently than we do now.” Although this could be written off as Trump’s trademark political bluster, it could also be seen as part of a larger attempt to intimidate the whistleblower, his or her sources, and future whistleblowers. This is particularly so when the statement is considered alongside Trump’s many other efforts throughout his presidency to intimidate potential whistleblowers.

In probing the President’s response to the whistleblower complaint, it is also essential that House members determine what role, if any, the President played in trying to circumvent the requirements of the Intelligence Community Whistleblower Protection Act (ICWPA) to keep the complaint from the congressional intelligence committees.  As the (Acting) Director of National Intelligence (DNI) himself concluded, the whistleblower followed the ICWPA’s requirements by presenting his complaint to the Inspector General (IG) for the intelligence community. The IG determined that the complaint was credible and raised an “urgent concern.” Under the ICWPA, the IG was required at that point to transmit the complaint to the DNI. Although the IG did just that, the DNI did not follow the statutory command that, at that point, he “shall, within 7 calendar days . . . forward [the complaint] to the congressional intelligence committees.” Rather, the DNI acknowledges that he brought the complaint to the White House and the Department of Justice. The Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel – despite serious questions as to whether it had a legitimate role in this process at all and the selectivity of its analysis – wrote an opinion concluding that the complaint did not state an urgent concern and did not need to be transmitted to members of Congress. Congressional investigators must determine what role, if any, President Trump played in attempting to bypass the ICWPA’s requirements and to keep the intelligence committees in the dark.

Finally, the House should situate any articles of impeachment regarding these abuses within President Trump’s wider pattern of exploiting the presidency’s secret-keeping capacities not to protect the national interest, but to bury information that might harm him personally. The House’s inquiry into classification system abuses to lock down embarrassing phone call records surely will include episodes beyond the Ukraine phone call, given indications that this or similar practices date back to the administration’s earliest days and cover multiple phone calls and in-person conversations. Other possible abuses extend to the administration’s repeated, extraordinarily broad invocations of executive privilege – or even of the possibility that the privilege might at some point be invoked – to block congressional fact-finding, and the White House’s wielding of almost-certainly unenforceable non-disclosure and non-disparagement agreements to threaten employees who might speak to the press. Although these are far from the only examples, they sharply illustrate the President’s broader pattern of abusing his powers to keep damning information about himself from the American people and from those who work for them.

Why Obstruction of Congressional Investigations Could Be Grounds for Impeachment

This blog is one in a series of blogs in a symposium examining different legal aspects of the impeachment inquiry of President Trump. View the entire Impeachment Blog Symposium.

Overseeing the executive branch is one of Congress's most important responsibilities, with impeachment being the most solemn and severe form. The power of Congress to investigate is fundamental to our system of checks and balances. When a president broadly obstructs Congress’s oversight function, especially during an impeachment investigation, it undermines that system and may violate the president’s constitutional obligation to “take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed.” Accordingly, in grave cases, that obstruction can qualify as an independent basis for impeachment.

In our daily politics, congressional oversight can often look like squabbling between political rivals in Congress and the White House. Dueling letters and rhetorical performances at hearings look a lot like all our other political fights.

But congressional oversight is rooted in the Constitution and our system of co-equal branches of government, and it is often how the separation of powers is manifested. The Supreme Court has held that Congress’s power to investigate is “essential and appropriate” and that it must be backed by “means of compulsion ... to obtain what is needed.” The power is penetrating and far-reaching” and is at its zenith when used to inquire into and publicize corruption [and] maladministration in government. When a president improperly obstructs valid congressional oversight, Congress has several means of recourse, from holding officials in contempt and seeking judicial intervention, to using the power of the purse to compel cooperation, to — at least historically — detaining or fining officials under its inherent contempt powers.

Impeachment is perhaps Congress’s most potent way to hold government officials accountable. And in the past, Congress has cited obstruction of congressional oversight as a basis for impeaching a president. The second article of impeachment against President Richard Nixon included the allegation that he failed to act “when he knew or had reason to know that his close subordinates endeavoured to impede and frustrate lawful inquiries by duly constituted ... legislative entities.” The third article of impeachment cited Nixon for having failed “without lawful cause or excuse to produce papers and things as directed by duly authorized subpoenas issued by the Committee on the Judiciary of the House of Representatives ... and willfully disobeyed such subpoenas.” In other words, the House Judiciary Committee approved articles of impeachment against Nixon for obstructing congressional oversight.

The fourth article of impeachment against President Bill Clinton — passed by the Judiciary Committee but not adopted by the full House — claimed Clinton “impaired the due and proper administration of justice and the conduct of lawful inquiries, and contravened the authority of the legislative branch and the truth seeking purpose of a coordinate investigative proceeding.” It cited Clinton for failing to respond to certain written requests and for making false and misleading sworn statements in response to congressional requests.

It is clear, however, from historical practice, constitutional design, and politics that impeachment is not appropriate every time Congress’s efforts to investigate a president are stymied. Not all noncompliance with oversight is impeachable or even wrong. The separation of powers contemplates a struggle between the executive and legislative branches. Legitimate volleys in that struggle should not be impeachable — the difference between negotiation and obstruction in the context of congressional oversight is often in the eye of the beholder. Many members of Congress have described accommodation efforts as obstruction.

Whether a president’s refusal to cooperate with congressional investigations rises to the level of an impeachable offense should turn, at least, on two factors. First, drawing from the law of obstruction of justice, Congress should find the president has acted with corrupt intent vis-à-vis oversight requests. Not all acts that could “obstruct” a criminal case are appropriately charged as obstruction of justice, such as filing a good faith motion to quash a subpoena or validly asserting one’s Fifth Amendment rights. In contrast, tampering with witnesses or destroying evidence can warrant a criminal charge.

Likewise, to rise to an impeachable offense, obstruction of congressional oversight should include some level of corrupt mens rea. Professors Daniel Hemel and Eric Posner argue for a meaningful mens rea standard when analyzing when a president, who runs the Department of Justice, can be said to have engaged in obstruction of justice. They argue a president may commit obstruction of justice if he or she “significantly interferes with an investigation, prosecution, or other law enforcement action to advance narrowly personal, pecuniary, or partisan interests.” They contrast that with a decision to stop a prosecution that might expose a covert operative.

A similar standard is appropriate in the congressional oversight context. If the president blocks inquiries to protect his personal, pecuniary, or partisan interests — as opposed to the public interest — he or she may be said to be “obstructing.” Likewise if the president refuses to turn over information based on invalid legal theories or in defiance of a court order. For example, the articles of impeachment against Nixon asserted he thwarted congressional requests for information “without lawful cause or excuse,” to protect himself based on improper assertions of privilege.

Trump’s total war on oversight presents a challenging question for impeachment. On matters grave and small, he has directed his administration to resist all scrutiny, famously saying he was “fighting all the subpoenas” and pledging to adopt a “warlike posture” to investigations. While many of the issues at stake do not implicate the president’s personal interests — many do, of course — the aggregate level of defiance is unprecedented and highly problematic. Impeachment for such conduct would be equally unprecedented but not necessarily improper. Congress would need to tie the aggregate defiance to a corrupt intent. For example, evidence that Trump ordered the blockade of all oversight to lend cover to one area in which he needed to protect himself would show the blockade is self-interested. And conceivably Congress could make the case that the total scale of the blockade reflects a corrupt approach to governance and a violation of Trump’s presidential obligations. But the case would need to be very compelling or it would risk turning routine oversight negotiations into scandals, which historically they are not.

The second factor in determining whether a president’s actions rise to the level of impeachment is the severity of the obstruction. Routine separation-of-powers struggles over oversight should not be sufficient. Impeachment is most appropriate where the obstruction (a) substantially thwarts (b) a legitimate congressional inquiry (c) into a matter of significant constitutional or legal importance.

When the president crosses this line is always going to be a matter of debate. With Nixon and Clinton, the alleged obstruction came in the context of impeachment proceedings, meaning that the House had already determined that the subject matter of its investigations met the threshold for impeachment. If, as with the Trump administration, obstruction of an impeachment inquiry is part of a consistent pattern of obstruction of all oversight, then that broader narrative could serve as atmospheric evidence in support of impeachment.

Finally, as with the crime of obstruction of justice, obstruction of oversight could conceivably offer a stand-alone basis for impeachment. In the criminal context, many obstruction of justice charges are brought without also charging the underlying crime. It would be a terrible incentive if a president could immunize himself from impeachment by thwarting all requests for information from Congress.

Nevertheless, impeachment for obstruction of oversight is probably best paired with a substantive basis for impeachment. Demonstrating the severity of the underlying conduct that is being investigated would help show why the obstruction of congressional oversight is also severe. In addition, before pursuing impeachment for obstruction of oversight as a stand-alone charge, Congress should also consider whether its other tools, such as the power of the purse or enforcement of a subpoena in court, provide an alternative mechanism to obtain compliance with its demands.

Our constitutional system depends on checks and balances. Thwarting Congress’s ability to check the president undermines that system and makes our government less accountable. It is no surprise that Congress has previously found obstruction of oversight to be an impeachable offense. The current administration’s wholesale blockade of oversight presents an unprecedented fact pattern for potential impeachment. But as of this writing, it appears Congress will not be faced with the question of whether to pursue obstruction as a stand-alone basis for impeachment. Instead, the administration’s posture toward accountability will be considered alongside alleged cases of brazen misconduct.

Congress Has Used Campaign Finance for Impeachment Before: Here’s How To Do It Now

This blog is one in a series of blogs in a symposium examining different legal aspects of the impeachment inquiry of President Trump. View the entire Impeachment Blog Symposium.

The Trump 2020 campaign started the day he was inaugurated, which placed him under federal campaign finance regulations for his entire presidency. He was also subject to federal campaign finance laws from the moment he started his campaign in 2015 through his inauguration. From both the 2016 Trump campaign and the 2020 Trump campaign, Congress has several instances of evidence of violations of federal campaign finance laws by Donald Trump. These campaign finance abuses could well lead to impeachment.

The President Nixon Precedent

There is historical precedent for Congress considering campaign finance violations as grounds for impeachment. For example, the Articles of Impeachment against President Richard Nixon included:

He has failed to take care that the laws were faithfully executed by failing to act when he knew or had reason to know that his close subordinates endeavoured to impede and frustrate lawful inquiries by duly constituted executive, judicial and legislative entities concerning the unlawful entry into the headquarters of the Democratic National Committee, and the cover-up thereof, and concerning other unlawful activities including … the campaign financing practices of the Committee to Re-elect the President.

This Nixon precedent takes on added urgency now that the House of Representatives has opened a formal impeachment inquiry.

The 2016 Trump Campaign

As I explain in my book Political Brands, President Trump has been named by federal prosecutors as Individual 1 in the charging documents relating to Michael Cohen, Trump’s former lawyer. Cohen pleaded guilty in 2018 to violating federal campaign finance laws in two distinct ways to help secure the silence of two women who alleged that Trump had had affairs with them right before the 2016 election.

Cohen’s first campaign finance crime was paying adult film actress Stormy Daniels (nee Stephanie Clifford) $130,000 for her silence on the eve of the 2016 election. This payment was considered an in-kind donation to the 2016 Trump campaign. It violated the law because it was too large. Cohen could only lawfully give $5400 to support Trump’s candidacy at the time.

The second campaign finance violation that Cohen pleaded guilty to was with respect to facilitating a payment by the National Enquirer to a Playboy model named Karen McDougal of $150,000 to catch and kill her story about her alleged affair with Trump. This violated a federal law called the Tillman Act, which bars corporations from spending in federal elections since its enactment in 1907. The parent company of the National Enquirer, American Media Inc., entered into a non-prosecution agreement with the DOJ to avoid liability for its illegal role in this payment.

According to Mr. Cohen’s statements to his sentencing judge in his criminal case, he executed both money in politics crimes at the direction of then-candidate Donald Trump. If true, this would make Donald Trump an unindicted co-conspirator in Cohen’s campaign finance crimes. Presumably, the only thing preventing the SDNY prosecutors from pursuing Individual 1, was a DOJ memo which states that a sitting president cannot be indicted. Meanwhile as President Trump remains free, Mr. Cohen is presently in federal prison for three years.

The 2020 Trump Campaign

According to statements by President Trump in television appearances and his lawyer Rudy Giuliani in other television appearances including one on CNN with Chris Cuomo, as well as the White House released notes of a call between Mr. Trump and the President of the Ukraine Volodymyr Zelensky, Mr. Trump asked the Ukrainian president for help digging up opposition research on Hunter Biden, the son of Joe Biden, who is running for the Democratic nomination for president. If accurate, this would be an additional instance of violating federal campaign finance law.

Ever since 1966 foreign nationals have been barred from giving contributions of money or things of value to federal candidates including candidates for the presidency. In 2002, this campaign finance law was revised by the McCain-Feingold Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act to make the ban on foreign influence even broader. The 2002 law expanded the foreign ban to political expenditures as well as direct contributions to candidates.

The 2002 law (52 U.S.C. §30121 formerly 2 U.S.C. § 441e) also made it clear that violations involving foreign governments would merit even harsher consequences compared to mere foreign citizens who violated the ban. In the first post-McCain Feingold sentencing guidelines, in 2003, penalties listed were enhanced if the campaign finance offense involved a foreign national (two levels) or a foreign government (four levels).  Thus, there is more prison time for a person working with a foreign government than one who is simply a run-of-the-mill foreign national.

The federal ban doesn’t just bar federal candidates from receiving money and things of value from foreign nationals, the law also bans the solicitation of foreign goods or money in U.S. elections.

The notes released from the White House of the Trump/Zelensky phone call indicate that President Trump, a candidate for federal office, was soliciting information about the Biden family from a foreign government—the Ukrainians. This is another violation of federal campaign finance law and could provide additional grounds for impeachment on top of the actions allegedly taken by Mr. Trump during the 2016 campaign to illegally benefit his campaign.

American campaign finance laws are meant to keep corruption at bay and to bolster voters’ faith in the integrity of democracy. The evidence in the public domain seems to indicate that Trump cheated in the 2016 election and, troublingly, he appears to be cheating in the 2020 reelection campaign while sitting in the Oval Office. The Congress is well within historical precedents in holding the president accountable through the Constitutional process of impeachment for these alleged violations of campaign finance law.

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Ciara Torres-Spelliscy is a Professor of Law at Stetson University College of Law, a Fellow at the Brennan Center for Justice at NYU School of Law and the author of the book, Political Brands (2019).

 

AB5: Regulating the Gig Economy is Good for Workers and Democracy

Poverty is not a suspect classification under our Constitution, but it is an affront to life and dignity and to democracy more broadly.  With the evisceration of the U.S. welfare state and the judiciary’s deference to political outcomes in the area of “economics and social welfare,” employment is the primary legal and political means to address economic inequality. In turn, employment is—for better or for worse—key to our democracy.  It provides access to the tools for basic sustenance in modern America: the minimum wage, health insurance, safety net protections, and even the right to organize and collectively bargain. Our capacity to participate in life and partake in politics, depends, in no small part, on our employee status. In the words of political theorist Judith Shklar, We are citizens if we ‘earn.’”  To this observation, I might add that we are citizens if we earn enough.

AB5—a bill which was just signed into law in California—is the first state law in the country to push back against an alarming trend of the last half decade: the use of app-based technology to proliferate work outside the regulatory framework of “employment.”  The potential for labor platforms relying on non-employee labor to exacerbate poverty looms large in debates about the future of work and of workers.  While the number of app-based workers remains comparatively small, the potential for this sector to grow and for industries to reproduce this model across the service economy looms large.

AB5 is the first significant step in pulling these workers back under the “employee” umbrella. It codifies the presumption of employee status under state law and puts forth an exacting, conjunctive test that hiring entities must meet if they wish to engage workers as non-employees.  Because labor platforms have posed risks to employment regimes and the security of workers the world over, the bill has been internationally lauded and states across the U.S. seek to replicate it.

How did California manage to pass this law, and what implications might AB5 hold for the relationship between work, poverty, and democracy more broadly?

I. Sharing or Taking? The Emergence of Precarious Platform Labor

To understand the significance of AB5 in the broader political and economic context, we must understand how the precarious labor trends it addresses initially proliferated.

Labor platform companies Uber and Lyft first appeared on the streets of San Francisco in the shadows of the Great Recession.  They operated under the guise of sharing and trust-building and launched to a captive audience. In a period of heightened unemployment and distrust in government (on both the left and the right), the companies capitalized on the public appetite for easily accessible jobs and economic re-making to introduce “disruptive” business models built on unregulated, independent contractor labor.  Uber and Lyft (which paved the ideological way for numerous gig companies that followed in their suit) provided traditional taxi services outside of traditional regulatory frameworks at rock-bottom, subsidized prices.  They argued that their technology platforms produced not work—but community.  And their public relations message was that they did not employ people; they empowered them.

Belying this seductive narrative were anticompetitive business practices and insecure work.  The labor platforms set fares, controlled worker behavior through algorithms, and unilaterally (and sometimes inexplicably) terminated workers from the app.  The companies, meanwhile, claimed to facilitate micro-entrepreneurship. In reality, individual workers bore all the traditional risks of business—providing their own car, phone, hybrid car insurance, and gas—but had very little control over the business itself.

II. From Failures to Regulate to Dynamite Dynamex

Despite growing complaints from workers and organized driver protests, regulators in states across the country failed to enforce existing employment laws against labor platform companies, and in some states legalized their independent contractor business models.

This political acquiescence began at ground zero in San Francisco.  When Lyft hit the streets of San Francisco in 2012, the California Public Utilities Commission (CPUC) issued a cease and desist order, arguing that the company was operating illegally. With this order in effect, then-Mayor Ed Lee took a different approach, commending the emergence of Lyft and Uber, launching a Sharing Economy Working Group, and pronouncing June 13, 2013 “Lyft Day.”

The CPUC eventually changed course and began a rule-making process to legalize the companies, noting that the agency sought to “foster innovation.” By regulating this industry state-wide, the agency effectively pre-empted California cities from enacting local regulations.

Hoping that the courts would address the misclassification concern, the CPUC wrote laissez faire rules that were silent on labor issues.  Beginning late in 2013, a number of class action lawsuits were indeed filed alleging the misclassification of workers by Uber and Lyft. But the class actions’ effectiveness as enforcement mechanisms were stymied by arbitration clauses and the Supreme Court’s decision in Epic Systems v. Lewis.

One month before Epic Systems, however, the California Supreme Court decided Dynamex v. Superior Court of Los Angeles.  Dynamex changed California law and the conversation around employee rights in the gig economy.  In Dynamex, which addressed the classification of drivers for an offline delivery company, the Court wrote that the purpose of California wage laws was to “raise living standards” for California workers and their families.  The decision noted how easy it was for companies to manipulate their business models to avoid responsibility to workers under the existing legal test for employment. To address this, the Court revised the state’s analysis of employee status under wage orders.

While Epic Systems hinders the private enforcement of Dynamex, the implications of the Dynamex decision were immediately apparent to the labor platform companies and to drivers. Under the ABC test (under which workers are only independent contractors if they perform work outside the usual course of the hiring entity’s business), analysts agree, there is little wiggle room; labor platform workers are very likely employees.  Gig companies scrambled to leverage their significant structural and instrumental power to create a legal carveout for themselves through legislation.

Rather than wait for the companies to regulate themselves out of employment, California Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez introduced AB5 in the 2019 legislative session.  The bill extended the legal precedent in Dynamex beyond wage orders to all California employment laws—including those in the Labor Code and the Unemployment Insurance Code.  It also gave city attorneys the power to enforce the law through injunction.

Given California’s tech-friendly political environment, however, few thought the bill could pass without an exemption for labor platform companies.

III. Drivers take the Lead: Unprecedented Organizing in the Gig Economy

During the earlier failure to regulate by courts and legislatures, I interviewed a number of labor platform drivers who lived in their cars or who couch-surfed.  They didn’t make enough to afford rent.  Some of them had—at Uber’s urging—purchased vehicles to work and were trapped in predatory auto loans.  Other drivers I met—migrant workers—came up from Southern California and the Central Valley to drive where fares were higher.  They were all tired of laboring under uncertain conditions.  While not everyone wanted the control that they feared came with employee status, everyone wanted basic benefits like a wage floor and workers’ compensation.

Tired of relying on state actors to fight on their behalf, a number of frustrated drivers started to organize.  Drivers in Los Angeles, for example, founded the Ride-share Drivers United (RDU) in 2018.  Doing what some trade unionists thought was impossible in the atomized and dispersed gig economy, RDU built relationships through one-on-one conversations and weekly meetings.  They orchestrated  actions to pressure state actors and even planned an unprecedented global strike against Uber and Lyft.  In a remarkably short period of time and without funding, the RDU by May 2019 had grown their membership to over 5,000 workers and inspired affiliated grassroots groups in San Diego and San Francisco.

RDU and other drivers groups—including those sponsored by unions and worker centers like the Mobile Workers Alliance and Gig Workers Rising—readily endorsed AB5 and fought passionately to get it passed.  Newly minted Governor Newsom encouraged organized labor to meet with the gig companies to “hammer out a compromise,” but the workers felt strongly that Uber and Lyft’s proposed compromise legislation was unsatisfactory.  RDU members told me, for example, that they were appalled and alarmed that the companies’ proposal required them to exchange basic employee rights for a company-funded “worker association” and portable benefits.

IV. Using Employment to Organize for a Democratic Workplace

Two weeks ago, against powerful odds and powerful actors, the California legislature passed AB5 without a carveout for the labor platform companies.  Last week, Governor Newsom signed the bill, indicating that he wanted to see a pathway to unionization in the gig economy.  (Due to a recent 9th circuit decision stemming from a challenged Seattle collective bargaining law, a state law facilitating collective bargaining may be possible.)

While workers in California await enforcement of AB5 against the company’s threatened intransigence (Uber claims both that it is exempt from the law and that they will fight the law with a referendum), they feel emboldened by this significant victory.  Many believe their organizing potential will grow exponentially under an employment regime; workers who earn a living wage and benefits have time and energy to build power together.

But AB5 itself does not give workers the legal authority to engage in protected concerted activity, and it certainly doesn’t force the companies to collectively bargain with them.  So, what’s next?  What might the road to a union and workplace democracy look like for California’s labor platform workers?

One promising path may be for drivers’ groups like RDU to continue to build collective power and to eventually file for union recognition under federal labor law.  While Trump’s NLRB General Counsel has issued a non-binding advisory opinion calling Uber drivers independent contractors, carved out of the NLRA, federal analysis on the issue might change with business model changes brought on by AB5 and would certainly change under a different administration.

Yet another path may be for drivers’ groups to fight for a radically bold state labor law for all excluded workers. Such a law would not erode—but grow—the hard-won rights under AB5 and allow anyone excluded from federal law to organize to improve their conditions.  The NLRA—since Taft-Hartley—has been decried as being in need of reform, especially for the “new economy.”   As the most progressive state with the highest poverty rate, California could build on the momentum of AB5 and create a state pathway to union recognition that resolves the many hurdles posed by federal law.  A new California collective bargaining law, for example, could make it easier for workers to secure union recognition and better protect their rights to picket, strike, and engage in concerted activity.

In an ironic twist, the so-called “gig economy” may be a political catalyst for both worker-led organizing and the revitalization of labor law.  Under the employment regime authorized by AB5, California’s precarious platform workers will have the power to effectively fight poverty while building a just and vibrant democracy—in the workplace and beyond.

A Tale of Two Election Law Standards

In April 2019, Tennessee enacted a law that would make it harder for individuals and organizations to register people to vote. On September 12, 2019, a federal district court granted a preliminary injunction against the law, finding that the law would unconstitutionally infringe on the rights of those who conduct registration drives.

That’s good news; the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals should affirm the decision if the state appeals. Imposing arduous rules—such as requirements that groups register with the state before conducting voter registration drives, take a government-provided training, and seek consent before retaining a voters’ information to use in get-out-the-vote efforts—places unnecessary barriers on the constitutional right to vote. Moreover, the law would criminalize groups who turn in too many incomplete voter registration forms while imposing a strict timing requirement on when forms must be turned in. None of these rules are necessary to fix any problems with Tennessee’s elections.

But for legal nerds and those who care about the scope of election law litigation, the path the court took to find the law (likely) unconstitutional was particularly interesting.

Any constitutional challenge to a particular governmental practice includes a threshold question: what level of scrutiny applies? The level of scrutiny, as most lawyers know, essentially dictates the lens through which the court will analyze the governmental action: strict scrutiny means that the court will not defer to the government for its purpose or method at all, while a lower level of scrutiny will give the government greater leeway.

The Supreme Court has been somewhat fickle on the level of scrutiny to apply when it comes to the fundamental right to vote. Although in the 1960s the Court often employed strict scrutiny, the Court subsequently adopted a balancing test, frequently referred to as “Anderson-Burdick” balancing after the two main cases that set out the standard, Anderson v. Celebrezze and Burdick v. Takushi. If the Court determines that an election law imposes a “severe burden,” then strict scrutiny applies and the government must carefully justify its practice without receiving any deference. But if the burden the law imposes is not severe, then a lower-level balancing test applies in which the Court weighs the burdens the law imposes against the state’s interest in its electoral practice. Of course, the threshold question—does a law impose a severe burden—is vitally important, but the Court has failed to define that term with any clarity.

Yet there is another strand of constitutional law often at play in these cases, and the Tennessee court latched on to that standard to consider these registration rules. Many election laws also implicate core First Amendment rights of free speech and free association. A regulation on the way in which an organization conducts its registration drives impacts the right to vote but it also may infringe on that group’s ability to speak and associate freely in the political world.

The court explained, citing a case from Florida, that “encouraging others to register to vote is pure speech, and because that speech is political in nature, it is a core First Amendment activity.” (cleaned up). The court also noted that “organizing between individuals in support of registration efforts involves political association that is, itself, protected under the First Amendment.” Thus, the court employed “exacting” scrutiny, which is essentially the same as strict scrutiny, in which it carefully considered the state’s need for the new law and whether the law would actually achieve any valid state interests.

To justify using a First Amendment exacting scrutiny standard, and not Anderson-Burdick balancing, the court noted that registering new voters is part and parcel of political change. “[I]n the American system of governance, every decision to grant, preserve, or take away a right can be traced, in at least some partial way, back to an election. . . . [A] change in the composition of the electorate can lead to the change of any law.”

The court found Tennessee’s justification for the new law sorely lacking. For example, the court explained that although there is a strong governmental interest in ensuring that groups conduct their voter registration activities properly, the state had “offered no evidence” to support the requirements that groups register ahead of time or take a government training. Moreover, these burdens would make it much harder for groups like the League of Women Voters to conduct voter registration drives given that they rely on volunteers. Instead, the rules—including the criminal penalties for filing too many incomplete registration forms—would create a chilling effect on voter registration.

The court also noted that the law would still fail Anderson-Burdick balancing if it employed that standard. But it cast that test aside in favor of a more robust First Amendment inquiry under exacting scrutiny. The court said that Anderson-Burdick balancing is better suited for issues involving the election mechanics itself that do not implicate core First Amendment rights.

Yet that formulation itself begs the question: are there any electoral activities that do not also implicate the First Amendment rights of speech and association? Perhaps, then, this case could stand for a broader proposition: Anderson-Burdick balancing is itself flawed, and the courts must recognize the centrality of the right to vote to our democratic system and impose stringent rules on governments that try to infringe on that right. This decision from Tennessee, striking down onerous rules on voter registration, does exactly that.

Today, on National Voter Registration Day, we must double down on our commitment to ensure that the courts robustly protect the fundamental right to vote, as this court just did. But we also must register to vote and ensure our family and friends are registered, too. Here’s a link.

 

Joshua A. Douglas is a law professor at the University of Kentucky College of Law. He is the author of Vote for US: How to Take Back Our Elections and Change the Future of Voting. Find him at www.joshuaadouglas.com and follow him on Twitter @JoshuaADouglas.