The REINS Act presents an opportunity for those interested in administrative law to look into their assumptions and values. A few ideas immediately come to mind: efficiency, accountability, expertise, and good government. The prospect of a process in which the political branch passes a law, then passes it along to agencies to promulgate rules, then brings back in those rules for approval before agencies may start enforcing them presents a shift in the administrative process, the fascination of which I’m not sure either side in the debate really trumpets.

The supporters seem to think the rulemaking process is a part of process of making the statute in the first place; so it makes perfect sense that Congress should sign off on the rules promulgated pursuant to its own initiatives. Supporters also assume the elected representatives’ quick votes on the rules provide a measure of democratic accountability. They are generally skeptical of the competence and accountability of bureaucrats.

Objectors seem to think rulemaking is a function by which Presidents impose policy and assert power as a useful opposing branch to Congress. Objectors assume voters can hold agencies accountable every four years during the Presidential elections. They are generally skeptical of the political motivations and monetary capture of Congresspeople.

I haven’t seen as much discussion on what REINS means for the process of governing, and the values we attach to the various actors within government. So, below are a few questions.

Should a current Congress be able to prevent the promulgation of statutes passed by a prior Congress, without actually repealing the statute?

Say the GOP won both houses in 2010 with a veto proof majority and promptly passed laws requiring the Occupational Safety & Health Administration to revise its regulations to prevent only the workplace hazards causing “severe or frequent injuries.” OSHA works on the new rule for a few years, researching the severity and frequency of each occupation’s injuries, and finally produces the rule to Congress in 2013. Meanwhile, Democrats swept back into control of the House in 2012. The Democrats don’t have the votes to repeal the 2010 “NOSHA Act,” but when presented with OSHA’s rule, reject it by resolution. And they do so on every revised rule.

Is it desirable to allow a representative to vote in favor of a popular bill, but against its implementation?

Obstruction by resolution might not be by a later Congress against its predecessor. As I mentioned in a prior post, a representative might vote for the “Everyone Likes it in Theory” Act, but against the “Actually Putting it into Practice” regulation. REINS, then, might afford our elected officials another tool in the trickery of campaign ads.

Certainly it is possible that a representative will sincerely believe an agency got something wrong in its rule, and want to send it back for revision. That presents its own danger–the sometimes endlessness of noodling in minutia. Until now, we’ve left it for agencies to do the fine tuning, which takes years. REINS invites politicians into that process.

What does it mean to interpret a vague piece of legislation; when agencies add the necessarily tremendously detailed rules to statutes, are they in fact legislating or implementing existing legislation?

On one end of the spectrum, if a court believes that an agency actually changed a statute through rulemaking, the rule will be overturned. On the other end, a rule carrying out a specific statutory directive will stand.

In between are those rules that inspire the most written about doctrine in administrative law, Chevron, in which the statute was a little fuzzy and the agency decided on a particular interpretation.

Or rules that apply expertise where Congress asked for such expertise: like, Congress instructing the EPA Administrator to prescribe emission standards for air pollutants “which in his judgment cause, or contribute to, air pollution which may reasonably be anticipated to endanger public health or welfare.” 42 U.S.C. 7521(a)(1).

Is a rule an executive or legislative function?
Writers commonly describe agencies as performing quasi-legislative (rulemaking) and quasi-judicial (enforcing, adjudicating) tasks. I’ve wondered whether it’s appropriate to allow the “quasi-legislative” description to place agencies within the legislative branch in a separation of powers argument. Indeed, in my mind, rulemaking is neither an executive nor legislative function.

Rulemaking is simply an agency’s placing into executable rules already existing legislation. If an agency changes the legislation in the process of making a rule, the rule is invalid.

Execution, I think, is better left to those activities that enforce rules in effect. Note, of course, that a great deal of interpretation (guidance, decisions on when to enforce, allocation of resources) goes on in the act of enforcing.

Rulemaking, though, involves an effort to take a law and apply a framework with which it will apply to the real world. The idea has long been that Congress is institutionally unable to prescribe every detailed rule, so it delegates to experts that last step, teeing up one more question for now:

What is the best structure for, and by what process can we assure, an appropriate balance of expertise and accountability in the final rules governing our day-today lives?

The Constitution failed to provide a framework for the administrative state, even though (thanks to Professor Mashaw we know that) the framers should have seen it coming. Thus, statutory law (the APA) provides our structure, and that is what REINS aims to alter.

Far more than the canards of jobs, red tape, or the benefit of having regulations generally, the discussion REINS should be inspiring is of the basic processes of lawmaking and rulemaking. Will better (whether your opinion of “better” means fewer, more, or more effective) regulations result from providing Congress an up or down vote on every promulgated rule?

Will that process add significantly to the time it takes to put any given rule into effect, and is that good or bad? Will that process push agency rulemaking staff to work with Congressional staff and lobbyists far more while drafting rules, and is that good? Will they pay more attention to politics and less to economists and scientists? Will the need to pass Congressional approval become a response to public comments?

I tend to think REINS allows for political cover and massive regualtory delay. I doubt it will ever make the President’s desk, and if it does it’ll be vetoed. However, in another time, if such a change indeed comes along, I will dream of a world in which voters pay attention to how their representatives vote (on both the bill and the rule); in which every representative has the philosophical capacity to vote for or against general principles and the technocratic capacity to vote for or against the subsequent rule; and in which every representative can speed read sufficiently to fully understand and give a fair assessment of a rule within 15 to 30 days.

Finally, a correction: when I first posted on REINS I’d only read Section 1. REINS requires both houses of Congress to approve by joint resolution any new major rule. I thought a vote wasn’t required, which would have problematically allowed Congress to kill rules through inaction. That’s not the case, but the actual provisions, which do require an up or down vote, pose some problems.

The process is roughly this, for major rules: an agency submits to Congress its rule; the majority leaders of the House and Senate introduce resolutions accepting the rule, and then pass it on to the relevant committee; that committee then has 15 days to allow the joint resolution to stand, or propose amendments to the underlying statute; the joint resolution then goes tot he calendar for an up or down vote that must happen within 15 session days, with debate limited to 2 hours.

Jonathan Adler praises REINS’ expedited review and mandatory vote, but it is a strange comfort. Agencies take several years to develop major rules, and Congress is to vote on the thing in about 30 days. If one house plays more safe than sorry, and rejects the rule, it is back to the perdurable drawing board.

This is a quick, and as all things coming of the top of my head potentially embarrassing, post on the constitutionality of the Affordable Care Act:

Most commentary I’ve read argues that the commerce clause does/does not provide authority to Congress to implement the individual mandate.  The tax and spending clause tends to get mentioned as the mandate being a type of tax.

I haven’t seen much debate on what would seem an easier route to Congressional authority: attaching the mandate a conditional string to health-related funding to the states.  Is that out there and I’ve just missed it?

A policy in which we choose not to have fully private health care and insurance–in other words, one in which we have chosen not to simply let those die that cannot pay for coverage–requires some government spending.  States and the federal government do most of that spending.  I suppose it could be possible for the federal government to get out of the game, and allow that basically moral decision to occur within each state–do we, as a state, wish to create programs like mandatory emergency room coverage, social security, medicare, and medicaid to help prevent death by empty pocket? For now, though, the federal government has a major role in that prevention.  Why can’t it attach conditions to its health-related spending just as the conditions of the drinking age attach to highway funds?

The condition couldn’t be the individual mandate – but could require states accepting funds to implement something that achieves the same goal, which in my mind is getting rid of the incentive to not getting insurance until sick.

Jeff: My problem is that your plan gives Congress control of our state militias, the very things that prevent federal tyranny.  Without them, what power do the states have if the federal government should attempt to effect by force of arms what by law or right it could never effect?

Alex: We don’t propose to disband the militia.  I’m not sure if you read the proposed document, or just the horror stories from the collection of folks that reason only so far as required to prevent honest discourse.

Jeff: The word “militia” sits there in the text, but it clearly does not refer to those bodies that have, up to now, been composed of men willing to fight for their home country, the state within which they live and work and raise families.  The “militia” of the proposed Constitution are bodies controlled by the federal Congress.  They might continue to live in their respective states,  but with whom will their loyalties abide?  The federal Congress demands their attention, and regulates their training.

Alex: It’s not like they’ll be swept up and taken to some federal brainwashing camp whereat they’ll forget all familial and community affections.  The whole nature of the militia is that they are local, and can be gathered where they already are, if need be.  They’ll still be living and working in their home country.  It stands to reason, then, that their loyalties will remain local.

Jeff: And I expect, then, that the Federalists will be sure to establish a standing army to whup up on my local militia.

Alex: But that’s where. . .

Jeff: And thus the federal power can freely ascend to tyranny. . .

Alex: Hold on, the militia. . .

Jeff: …because you will march your professional armies clear over the countryside.  I know my liberty tree cries ‘feed me Seymour,’ but its appetite is for both sides of a fight – the patriots and tyrants.  Liberty requires a credible threat to the powers that be.

Alex: Let me in here, Jeff.  That exact fear is precisely what I’m trying to address.  It is what the proposed Constitution, written by men with just your concern, intends to guard against.  In the first Article, five subsections address the federal land and naval forces, and our state-based militias.  The last of those, section 8.16, grants Congress power to organize, arm, and discipline the militia.

Jeff: Oh, great relief!  Why should that provision calm my concern?  The power to regulate our local militias is the power to do so poorly – to set them up to fail against the federal army.

Alex: And, if I may continue, section 8.15 allows Congress to call on the militias to execute laws, suppress insurrections, and repel invasions.

Jeff: You’re making me no more comfortable.

Alex: Now, you know a standing army could not march from one part of the continent to another when little emergencies require execution, suppression, or repulsion.  You know, full well, that the federal government will rely on local forces that can be whipped up and brought to action instantly and locally.  Don’t you see, then, that the federal government will have an incentive to train the militia units to the highest standard?  If a small band of troublemakers would cause damage to their neighbors and ignore duly enacted laws, the general government would be much more disposed to call up local forces to quiet the situation than to send a central army to remote wildernesses.  Further, using local militia will assure the remaining community that such needful force is against a common enemy, and not the result of federal whim. Remember your reflections after the militia responded to Mr. Shays?  “The interposition of the people themselves on the side of government has had a great effect on the opinion here.”  For all these benefits, the general government will have an interest in assuring the high quality of those militias, and will well regulate them to do so.

Jeff: And I’m supposed to just assume the federal government won’t just co-opt the militiamen into the central army?

Alex: You don’t have to assume it.  Section 8.16 lays it clearly out that the states will appoint officers to their respective militias.  Besides, we haven’t even formed an army.  But let me quote what I wrote before:

“. . .if circumstances should at any time oblige the government to form an army of any magnitude that army can never be formidable to the liberties of the people while there is a large body of citizens, little, if at all, inferior to them in discipline and the use of arms, who stand ready to defend their own rights and those of their fellow-citizens. This appears to me the only substitute that can be devised for a standing army, and the best possible security against it, if it should exist.”

Jeff: Well and good.  I’ll take your point.  But training is not, really, all there is to it.  In our own day we’ve seen the progress of military machinery.  What inequity in force should happen if the citizens that join militias are denied the same arms available to your federal army?  What prevents Congress from disarming the militia?

Alex: Everything I’ve said should explain why Congress would never disarm the militia.  And, again, those very same, well regulated militiamen are the surest prevention to a standing army.

Jeff: Well, you need to put that in a . . .

Alex: I know, I know, a bill of rights.  I’m telling you, though, you are not going to get your way with an amendment against standing armies.  General Washington can publically praise the militias all he wants; we both know he will have his professional army too.  But I’m willing to work with you, assuring that the first Congress will propose an amendment that the militia will, indeed, be well regulated, and not a sloppy ragtag of ill-prepared and off-target amateurs.

Jeff: That will never be disarmed?

Alex: And never disarmed.  For the purpose of a well regulated militia, the people’s right to bear arms shall not be infringed.

Jeff: I still want language that emphasizes the purpose of the militia.  Look, our republican government requires that people, belonging to a state, have a unit of force that is, in the end, loyal to that state and those people.  If the federal government should ever begin to act outside the dictates of our law or reason, that force is the last protection for these states that consented to the general government.  It ought be clear, then, what these militia, and the arms we secure, are purported to protect.

Alex: Ok, fine.  A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

Jeff: Alright, I’m thirsty. Fraunces Tavern?

Alex: My turn to buy.  I want to hear your thoughts on how bare a right it will be if bearing arms is, one day, akin to the mere sword today.


Funnily enough, right after we got done pooh-poohing Hamilton’s idealism in F27, he opens F28 with a proclamation against being overly idealistic.  He himself denigrates “those political doctors, whose sagacity disdains the admonitions of experimental instruction.”  He must have gotten some negative emails between December 25, 1787, and December 26, 1787 (the dates of F27 and F28, respectively).*

Anyway, F28 picks up on F27’s themes by addressing worries about Shay’s Rebellion and its ilk.  The rule of law in America has apparently come a long way between 1787 and 2010, as Publius is very emphatic that armed insurrections are an inevitable part of life—just like “tumours and eruptions from the natural body.”  (Ew.)  Today we are obviously far more worried about lone actors or small terrorist sleeper cells than we are about armed rebellion by a sizeable minority.  In the 1780s, though, everyone was more freaked out about a Civil War-type scenario than they were about some random person losing it and shooting up the local post office.  As events turned out, of course, these civil war worries were well-founded.

The most interesting and relevant part of F28 to us modern readers is where Publius is discussing the relationship between the federal and state governments.  In addition to the brilliant system of horizontal checks and balances among the branches of the federal government, the balance of power runs vertically in our country, too.  Hamilton’s theory is that anytime the federal government “invades the public liberty,” the state governments will be ready and waiting to jump in and stand up for the people’s rights.  That’s kinda-sorta applicable today, I guess; but historically more often it’s the federal government who has had to stand up to the states to induce them to respect the public liberty (ala the civil rights movement in the 1960s).

That aside, I wonder how Publius thought his theory would play out?  By what means, exactly, could the state governments defend their citizens against perceived encroachments of the federal government (both then and today)?  Any way besides armed rebellion?

* Publius churned out the Fed Papers a tad quicker than we are managing to blog our way through them.  [Sorry to take so long on this one, APO]

So you think Griswold taught judicial reviewers to read between the lines?  It seems, rather, to’ve been Demosthenes.

Textualists, intentionalists, and spiritualists (of the law) have long debated how we ought apply the lines of our Constitution and statues to specific cases.  Can we, for instance, infer a basic privacy right from the first ten amendments.

Here’s a glimpse of our American debate, via an exchange at the Ashbrook Center:

Peter W. Schramm: Another question. Justice Thomas, could you comment on the reasoning of Griswald, and tell us what you believe it could lead to in terms of the expansion of privacy rights?

Justice Thomas: Griswald has been around a long time. I will comment on it only to this extent. Of course you know that there the rights were supposedly emanated from these penumbras. So when I got to the court, a friend of mine, who will remain nameless, sent me a custom made sign that’s on display in my office that says, “Please do not emanate into the penumbra.” And I’ve tried to steadfastly avoid doing that.

I don’t know what it would lead to. I think that the scholars have reached different conclusions, but we of course know that that was one of the precursor decisions for Roe v. Wade. And of course, we’ve changed that reasoning a bit inCasey. But we’re already beginning to get, and I’m just talking about a class of cases–I’m moving a little bit away from privacy a second–we’re already beginning to get the reliance in the right to die cases, on some of those cases, certainly on Casey, and language in Casey. So I think you can begin to see that the big cases, and I’ve said this to others, that you’re going to begin to see, I think, some cases now talking about who gets to live, who gets to die, who gets to be born and all sorts of things like that. And that’s going to be hard, and I think they’re going to rely on some of these precursor cases. And how we come out, I don’t know.

So it was neat tonight to read Adriaan Lanni’s article on judicial review in ancient Athens.  The article describes the legal arguments that Athenians made against newly passed decrees and laws.  Mostly, the arguments used two lines of reasoning – (1) the law’s inception violated the process through which laws are supposed to come about; and (2) the law directly violates a previous law.  But then there was this:

Wolff’s landmark study, “Normenkontrolle” und Gesetzesbegriff in der attischen Demokratie, added a third category of legal argument: the statute under review contravened general principles that could be logically derived from existing statutes, as opposed to directly contradicting a specific provision.  Wolff viewed this third category of argument as most central to Athenian notions of constitutionality, and carefully traced the Athenians’ increasing sophistication at extracting fundamental principles from statutes over time. Two additional aspects of Wolff’s theory are important for our purposes: first, the fundamental principles involve moral and social values and institutions … as well as democratic political and legal norms … and, second, the general principles are always derived from statutes and are never appealed to as independent, abstract values.
Got that?  It seems to me Justice Douglas might have just as well phrased his penumbra as “general principles logically derived” from the Bill of Rights.
Another thing’s interesting here – note this about the Athenian principles and the penumbra: both avoid Natural Law, as Lanni points out at the end of the above quote.  It is a judicial review based on text and construction, rather than divining meaning from without.

F26 continues Publius’s argument against restraining the federal government’s ability to provide for the national defense (principally by means of maintaining a standing army). He focuses in this essay on how the Constitution provides checks and balances within the federal government itself, which he argues are sufficient in and of themselves to restrain the army’s power—thus, no need to restrict such power by tipping the balance of federalism more towards the states.

I haven’t thought a lot about the connection between the Constitution’s checks and balances and the Aristotleian concept of the Golden Mean, but F26 draws the parallel pretty explicitly. The first paragraph mentions that war (specifically, in this case, the Revolutionary War) rarely gives rise to moderation in the public mind. “That happy mean” between “the energy of government” and the “security of private rights” is a “delicate and important point.” And war is a blunt instrument. It is bound to land us too far on one side or the other of the delicate balance. Publius offers a scary anti-vision where the USA bounces from one failed Articles-of-Confederation-like governmental structure to another, and then to another (as he puts it, “one chimerical project to another”), never actually settling in the felicitous middle.

Aristotle says that the virtues are those qualities which are warped by either deficiency or excess.  E.g. courage: someone who lacks all courage and constantly runs away is a coward, while someone who fears nothing is rash.  In this way the virtue of courage depends on a “mean” between two extremes.  (See Nichomachean Ethics, Chapter 2.)  Similarly, F26 seems to argue that if we have too little governmental power on the one hand, our social contract breaks down, and we may as well dispense with the states and nations completely and govern on the county level. The evils of the other extreme, too much governmental power, hardly need to be described, since the audience has only recently emerged from a war against what they perceived to be absolute monarchy. Constitutionally forcing Congress to re-evaluate military funding every two years, Publius argues at length, strikes the perfect balance in the standing army debate, because “it is impossible that the people could be long deceived; and the destruction of [a project to undermine the civil government] would quickly follow the discovery.”

It’ll be fun to watch future Federalist Papers for other instances of such “golden means” being struck by the proposed Constitution.  No question the ancient Greeks were a big influence on the Founding.

Hamilton continues the national army argument with F25.  Perhaps it is his romantic attachment to arms (see, below, the last lines of his letter, at age 15, to his buddy Ned), but he really brings out the gems when arguing for the army, beginning with some projections on the lack of a national army.

As some states, facing threats in greater proportion, would ramp up defenses; other states might ramp up simply not to be outdone by their neighbors.  I imagined a cold war of muskets and canons among the early American states while reading Hamilton’s column:

The States, to whose lot it might fall to support the necessary establishments, would be as little able as willing, for a considerable time to come, to bear the burden of competent provisions. The security of all would thus be subjected to the parsimony, improvidence, or inability of a part. If the resources of such part becoming more abundant and extensive, its provisions should be proportionally enlarged, the other States would quickly take the alarm at seeing the whole military force of the Union in the hands of two or three of its members, and those probably amongst the most powerful. They would each choose to have some counterpoise, and pretenses could easily be contrived. In this situation, military establishments, nourished by mutual jealousy, would be apt to swell beyond their natural or proper size; and being at the separate disposal of the members, they would be engines for the abridgment or demolition of the national authority.

On the notion that a national army is preferable to several state forces, the following is exemplary of Hamilton’s rhetoric of what would seem common sense (I’m reminded of Lincoln, here).  Isn’t it better to have an army against which we are guarded?

As far as an army may be considered as a dangerous weapon of power, it had better be in those hands of which the people are most likely to be jealous than in those of which they are least likely to be jealous. For it is a truth, which the experience of ages has attested, that the people are always most in danger when the means of injuring their rights are in the possession of those of whom they entertain the least suspicion.

Apparently the anti-feds argued that we should perhaps only allow a standing army in time of conflict; or to not allow the Nation to raise an army during peace.  To the former, Hamilton figures it will always be possible to plead conflict (Hamilton: “Indian hostilities, instigated by Spain or Britain, would always be at hand.” He’s probably right – think of post-WWII defense-spending rhetoric.)  To the latter, Hamilton wonders why America ought to be the only nation “incapacitated by its Constitution to prepare for defense.”

I was interested to read the following bit about a standing army as opposed to the militia.  Still a novice in American history, I didn’t know much about the revolutionary-period militias.  I reckoned they were what made up our army.  Nope.

I’m about through with another Modern Scholar lecture series – this one is Joseph Ellis’ lectures on “founding brothers,” riffing from his well-regarded book.  Just this morning, I listened to Ellis’ lecture on the war.  One of his takeaway points was that we didn’t need to win, we just needed the British lose (the lecture also analogizes the strategic character of the Revolutionary War to that of Vietnam); and the British lost because they didn’t realize soon enough what they needed to go after.  Rather than seize any geographical spot, they needed to destroy the revolutionary army.  And, perhaps because Howe didn’t pursue Washington across New Jersey, the British lost their chance to really crush the American army.

Ellis urges that it is a myth (and was an early developed myth) that rag-tag militias won the war.  The specifics of military history and strategic lessons aside, it was interesting to learn that there was a politics to the militia/army distinction; and to whom the credit for winning belonged.  Connecting the dots, it makes sense: the army was national, the militias were state-mustered.  I suppose I should have been a bit more on top of that history after Heller.

In any event, Ellis argues that Washington and Hamilton certainly embraced the conclusion that the army, not the militia, won the war (by not getting crushed; thus, by existing).

Which all makes this fit right in:

Here I expect we shall be told that the militia of the country is its natural bulwark, and would be at all times equal to the national defense. This doctrine, in substance, had like to have lost us our independence. It cost millions to the United States that might have been saved. The facts which, from our own experience, forbid a reliance of this kind, are too recent to permit us to be the dupes of such a suggestion. The steady operations of war against a regular and disciplined army can only be successfully conducted by a force of the same kind.

Finally, Hamilton argues that it does not matter what we put down as rules.  Pointing to Shays’ Rebellion, he figures that the states will produce armed forces regardless of processes dictated by law: “how unequal parchment provisions are to a struggle with public necessity.”

Perhaps I’m feeling easily moved, but Hamilton seems to have really put out some solid rhetoric with F25.

…I’m confident, Ned that my Youth excludes me from any hopes of immediate Perferment, nor do I desire it, but I mean to prepare the way for futurity, I’m no Philosopher you see and may be justly said to Build Castles in the Air, my Folly makes me ashamed and beg youll conceal it, yet Neddy we have seen such schemes successful when the Projector is Constant. I shall Conclude saying I wish there was a war.

As noted a few days ago, Lily’s post on partisan rhetoric brought to mind the antebellic gem of a speech, delivered by Edward Livingston during the heat of nullification debates.  Having now read through most of the speech, I can attest to several themes that make reading the thing entirely worthwhile.

- 40 years after the Constitution went into practice, the leading figures in the Senate, over the period of a couple months, delivered what must have been several-hours-long speeches on the very nature of the Constitutional government.

- The questions of federalism, and the energy of our National government that so split Hamilton’s audience splat also these Senators in 1830, as they split us today.

- Livingston manages to bring us within the passionate debate on the structure of the Union, while providing still poignant warnings against passionate rhetoric.

- And he does that while delivering sometimes hysterical hyperbole.

In the last post, I quoted some of his language on blown-out rhetoric.  Here, I’ll quote his summary of the debate’s heart: nullification.  A few things to note.  Nullification was the notion that a state could basically veto a federal law, which, to then pass, the Nation would then need to ratify as a Constitutional amendment.   That political issue was the manifestation of the debate that raged (has raged) since the Nation’s inception: to what extent are the federal government and state governments sovereign?  Livingston begins this segment with some hyperbole, but I suppose it is deserved hyperbole:

I now approach a graver subject, one, on the true understanding of which the Union, and of course the happiness of our country, depends. The question presented is that of the true sense of that Constitution which it is made our first duty to preserve in its purity. Its true construction is put in doubt—not on a question of power between its several departments, but on the very basis upon which the whole rests; and which, if erroneously decided, must topple down the fabric, raised with so much pain, framed with so much wisdom, established with so much persevering labor, and for more than forty years the shelter and protection of our liberties, the proud monument of the patriotism and talent of those who devised it, and which, we fondly hoped, would remain to after ages as a model for the imitation of every nation that wished to be free. Is that, Sir, to be its destiny? The answer to that question may be influenced by this debate. How strong the motive, then, to conduct it calmly; when the mind is not heated by opposition, depressed by defeat, or elate with fancied victory, to discuss it with a sincere desire, not to obtain a paltry triumph in argument, to gain applause by tart reply, to carry away the victory by addressing the passions, or gain proselytes by specious fallacies, but, with a mind open to conviction, seriously to search after truth, earnestly, when found, to impress it on others. What we say on this subject will remain; it is not an every day question; it will remain for good or for evil. As our views are correct or erroneous; as they tend to promote the lasting welfare, or accelerate the dissolution of our Union; so will our opinions be cited as those which placed the Constitution on a firm basis, when it was shaken or deprecated, if they should have formed doctrines which led to its destruction.

With this temper, and these impressions of the importance of the subject, I have given it the most profound, the most anxious and painful attention; and differing, as I have the misfortune to do, in a greater or less degree, from all the Senators who have preceded me, I feel an obligation to give my views of the subject. Could I have coincided in the opinions given by my friends, I should most certainly have been silent; from a conviction, that neither my authority nor my expositions could add any weight to the arguments they have delivered.

My learned and honorable friend, the Senator near me, from South Carolina, (Mr. Hayne) comes, in the eloquent arguments he has made, to the conclusion, that whenever, in the language of the Virginia resolutions, (which he adopts) there is, in the opinion of any one State, “a palpable, deliberate, and dangerous violation of the Constitution by a law of Congress,” such State may, without ceasing to be a member of the Union, declare the law to be unconstitutional, and prevent its execution within the State; that this is a constitutional right, and that its exercise will produce a constitutional remedy, by obliging Congress either to repeal the law, or to obtain an explicit grant of the power which is denied by the State, by submitting an amendment to the several States; and that, by the decision of the requisite number, the State, as well as the Union, would be bound. It would be doing injustice, both to my friend and to his argument, if I did not add, that this resort to the nullifying power, as it has been termed, ought to be had only in the last resort, where the grievance was intolerable, and all other means of remonstrance and appeal to the other States had failed.

In this opinion I understand the honorable and learned chairman of the Judiciary Committee substantially to agree, particularly in the constitutional right of preventing the execution of the obnoxious law.

The Senator from Tennessee, in his speech, which was listened to with so much attention and pleasure, very justly denies the right of declaring the nullity of a law, and preventing its execution, to the ordinary Legislature, but erroneously, in my opinion, gives it to a Convention.

My friend from New Hampshire, of whose luminous argument I cannot speak too highly, and to the greatest part of which I accord, does not coincide in the assertion of a constitutional right of preventing the execution of a law believed to be unconstitutional, but refers opposition to the unalienable right of resistance to oppression.

All these Senators consider the Constitution as a compact between the States in their sovereign capacity; and one of them, (Mr. Rowan) has contended that sovereignty cannot be divided, from which it may be inferred that no part of the sovereign power has been transferred to the General Government.

The Senator from Massachusetts, in his very eloquent and justly admired address on this subject, considers the Federal Constitution as entirely popular, and not created by compact, and, from this position, very naturally shows, that there can be no constitutional right of actual resistance to a law of that Government, but that intolerable and illegal acts may justify it on first principles.

However these opinions may differ, there is one consolatory reflection, that none of them justify a violent opposition given to an unconstitutional law, until an extreme case of suffering has occurred. Still less do any of them suppose the actual existence of such a case.

“The man who reproves another for a fault, should be careful that he himself be not guilty of it.”  — Brutus,  Essay IX, 17 January 1788, in a rebuttal of Federalist Paper 24

Some off-blog discussions with Andrew got me curious about whether the Anti-Federalists truly deserved F24’s bile.  Purely as rhetoric for its own sake, the Paper’s strong language could serve as a check to current political discourse – but if Publius’s criticism was actually warranted, it would pack even more of a punch.  So I dusted off my copy of The Anti-Federalist, which is actually an abridged version of The Complete Anti-Federalist, edited by Herbert J. Strong.  Even within the constraints of the abridged version, the Anti-Federalists have lots and lots to say about the evil of standing armies!  Interestingly enough, the majority of anti-standing army essays seem to have been written after F24.  Apparently Publius’s angry expostulations set off quite the firestorm of reaction on this particular topic.

But I’m getting ahead of myself:  first, as to whether the cold rage of F24 fell upon deserving heads:  I would say, in the end, no.  Of the Anti-Fed writings that predate F24’s 12/21/87 publication, consider the following:

In despotic governments, as well as in all the monarchies of Europe, standing armies are kept up to execute the commands of the prince or the magistrate, and are employed for this purpose when occasion requires:  But they have always proved the destruction of liberty, and [are] abhorrent to the spirit of a free republic. . . .  A free republic will never keep a standing army to execute its laws.  It must depend upon the support of its citizens.

– Brutus, Essay I, 18 October 1787, writing, as Publius does, “To the Citizens of the State of New-York”

Patrick Henry also weighed in, somewhat less coherently (but we forgive him, since this is only the transcription of a speech rather than a considered piece of writing):

Did you ever read of any revolution in any nation, brought about by the punishment of those in power, inflicted by those who had no power at all?  You read of a riot act in a country which is called one of the freest in the world, where a few neighbours cannot assemble without the risk of being shot by a hired soldiery, the engines of despotism.  We may see such an act in America.  A standing army we shall have also, to execute the execrable demands of tyranny:  And how are you to punish them?  Will you order them to be punished?  Who shall obey these orders?

– Speech to the Virginia State Ratifying Convention, 5 June 1788

There is anger and fear here, but both Brutus (whoever he was) and P. Henry also appeal to reason and to a sober consideration of the examples of history, as Publius himself loves to do in his more didactic moments.  Even more tellingly, the United States has historically always refused (and continues to refuse to this very day) to deploy its military on American soil.  So in that sense, the Anti-Feds have won out.  In short, Brutus and Henry voice entirely legitimate objections, and it is hardly fair of Publius to label them unprincipled or disingenuous or sinister.

Brutus was apparently of the same opinion, because in a mid-January 1788 address to the New York citizenry, he devotes a good bit of space to laying out a blow-by-blow refutation of F24, which he prefaces with the following:

A writer, who is the boast of the advocates of this new constitution [take that, Hamilton!], has taken great pains to shew, that this power [of maintaining a standing army] was proper and necessary to be vested in the general government.  He sets out with calling in question the candour and integrity of those who advance the objection, and with insinuating, that it is their intention to mislead the people, by alarming their passions, rather than to convince them by arguments addressed to their understandings.  The man who reproves another for a fault, should be careful that he himself be not guilty of it.  How far this writer has manifested a spirit of candour, and has pursued fair reasoning on this subject, the impartial public will judge, when his arguments pass before them in review.

– Brutus, Essay IX

Hamilton, unlike the Anti-Feds, pretty much deserved this kind of dressing down.  And what is more, Publius really set himself up for a hypocrite’s fall with F24’s over-reaction.

All that said, The Ham still can’t be beat for pure rhetorical beauty.  And even if the words of F24 weren’t entirely disingenuous, I still wish more of today’s politicians and talking heads would take them to heart.

About a week before Publius’ 24th Federalist column appeared in the December 19 1797 edition of ___ , Thomas Jefferson wrote to his fellow foreign minister, John Adams.  The two wrote to each other frequently, at least once or twice a month.
They were fellow diplomats – Jefferson in Paris, and Adams mainly in London – and the less-experienced Jefferson frequently solicited Adams’ council.  Thus, the letters read a bit like the dialogue down a hallway between a new accountant and his appointed mentor.  Do you think we ought to pay the principal on this loan to avoid bad credit with other nations?  And, because it is Adams and Jefferson, the work-talk is interspersed with things like, “How do you like our new consitution?”
That was how Jefferson ended a letter on November 13, 1787, and then he answered his question: some problematic items “stagger all [his] dispositions to subscribe” to it.
Specifically, (1) the House of Representatives seemed to Jefferson inadequate to manage the new country and its foreign affairs; (2) the Presidency appeared set to become a perpetually reelected postition; and (3) even if not reelected, the President might grab perpetual power with his Constitutionally granted force of the military.  Generally, wrote Jefferson, “all the good of this new constitution might have been couched in three or four new articles to be added to the good, old, and venerable fabrick …”  (Jefferson to Adams, Paris, November 13, 1787)
1787 and Jefferson already shared talking points, from across the Atlantic, with those naysayers that Hamilton blasted a few weeks later in F24.
On December 6, 1787, Adams answered Jefferson’s last paragraph (he answered the work-related questions a few days later).  First, he disagreed with Jefferson’s take on the Articles of Confederation.  That aside, Adams well summarizes for we later readers his debate with Jefferson: “You are afraid of the one – I, of the few.  We agree perfectly that the many should have a full fair and perfect Representation. – You are Apprehensive of Monarchy; I, of Aristocracy.  I would therefore have given more power to the President and less to the Senate.”
Indeed, this is a powerful summary of a major early debate in American government: what better preserves the people’s voice, a strong legislature or stong executive?  And what of the notion that Andrew Jackson was the first popular President (in that he transformed the Presidency into that office that best represents the people).  It appears that Adams has seen that possibility.
Adams counters Jefferson’s fear that a President might be perpetually reelected with “so much the better.”  Elections, he writes, “have been so often tryed, and so universallyt found productive of Horrors, that there is great Reason to dread them.”

About a week before Publius’ 24th Federalist column appeared in the December 19 1797 New York newspapers, Thomas Jefferson sat down to write his fellow foreign minister, John Adams.

The two wrote to each other frequently, at least once or twice a month.  They were fellow diplomats — Jefferson in Paris, and Adams mainly in London — the less-experienced Jefferson frequently soliciting Adams’ council.  Thus, the letters read a bit like the hallway  dialogue  between a newly hired accountant and his appointed mentor.  A typical subject: Do you think we ought to pay the principal on this loan to avoid bad credit with other nations?  But, because it is Adams and Jefferson, the work-talk is interspersed with things like, So, “How do you like our new consitution?”

That was how Jefferson ended a letter on November 13, 1787.  He answered his question: some problematic items “stagger all my dispositions to subscribe” to it.

Specifically, (1) the House of Representatives seemed to Jefferson inadequate to manage the new country and its foreign affairs; (2) the Presidency appeared set to become a perpetually reelected postition; and, proving that opposition taking points spread like LA wildfires even before the internets, (3) even if not reelected, the President might grab perpetual power with his Constitutionally granted force of the military. Did the line perk Hamilton’s ears across the Atlantic, and spur the young and prolific essayist into Federalist 24?

Generally, wrote Jefferson, “all the good of this new constitution might have been couched in three or four new articles to be added to the good, old, and venerable fabrick …”

On December 6, 1787, Adams answered Jefferson’s last paragraph (he answered the work-related questions a few days later).  First, he disagreed with Jefferson’s take on the Articles of Confederation.  That aside, Adams well summarizes for we later readers his debate with Jefferson: “You are afraid of the one – I, of the few.  We agree perfectly that the many should have a full fair and perfect Representation. – You are Apprehensive of Monarchy; I, of Aristocracy.  I would therefore have given more power to the President and less to the Senate.”

Indeed, this is a powerful summary of a major early debate in American government: what better preserves the people’s voice, a strong legislature or stong executive?  (And what of the notion that Andrew Jackson was the first popular President, in that he transformed the Presidency into that office that best represents the people.  It appears that Adams had already contemplated seen that possibility.)

Adams counters Jefferson’s fear that a President might be perpetually reelected with “so much the better.”  Elections, he writes, “have been so often tryed, and so universallyt found productive of Horrors, that there is great Reason to dread them.”

In light of Lily’s post below, I’m interested in the civic debate between these two.  As we know, they became biter enemies a decade later.  Or did they?  Sure, they didn’t talk – but was their division really between them, as individuals, or between the parties (factions, in Madison’s phraseology) that formed about them?  One wishes that they continued to write to each other through the election of 1800.  Perhaps, had they, we would have an example of intelligent, political debate; three words that so rarely fall together.

Letters: Jefferson to Adams, Paris, November 13, 1787; Adams wrote back about three weeks later.

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