Supreme Court

Resisting arrest

Six decades before Guantanamo, Fred Korematsu refused to go quietly when the government tried to put him in a prison camp because of his race.

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Resisting arrest

On Monday, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that “enemy combatants” — prisoners seized in the “war on terror” who the Bush administration argued had no legal recourse — have the right to challenge their detention in American courts. Writing for the majority, Justice Sandra Day O’Connor wrote, “A state of war is not a blank check for the President when it comes to the rights of the Nation’s citizens.”

Somewhere in the San Francisco Bay Area, a soft-spoken man named Fred Korematsu is smiling.

Americans assume that their civil rights are sacrosanct, that civic tradition and the Constitution are a sure bulwark against the state’s power to treat them without due process. They’re wrong. Civil rights are only as strong as the nation’s commitment to defending them. And the grim truth is that during wartime, that commitment often fails — especially when the gasoline of racism is poured onto the flames of fear.

That is true today, as the dark-skinned prisoners in Guantánamo and the thousands of harmless Arabs and Muslims deported or harassed after 9/11 can attest. And it was true in 1942, when Fred Korematsu, along with 120,000 other law-abiding Americans of Japanese ancestry — two-thirds of them American citizens — were forcibly removed from their homes, farms, businesses and communities and sent into imprisonment in desolate camps throughout the West. Their crime? Being of Japanese descent. It was the greatest mass violation of civil rights in 20th century American history.

Fred Korematsu resisted the order. He took his case to the Supreme Court. Of the four Supreme Court cases brought by Japanese-Americans involving the internment order, his was the only one in which the court directly ruled on the constitutionality of the relocation order. In what is now regarded as one of the most disgraceful rulings in the court’s history, he lost — and to this day, the right of the government to act as it did in 1942 has never been overturned. But his defeat carried within it the seeds of a larger victory. Forty-one years later, a legal team made up of mostly young Japanese-American lawyers — many of whose parents had been in the camps — brought suit to bring justice not just to Korematsu, but also to all those who had been wronged by the internment orders. In a stunned and tearful California courtroom, his conviction for refusing to report to an “assembly center” was overturned, and the shame of a dark moment in American history was finally washed away.

Five years later, President Bill Clinton awarded Korematsu the nation’s highest civilian award, the Presidential Medal of Freedom. That award recognized that the unassuming young welder had stood up for something larger than himself. Fred Korematsu, who would not go into the camps, had joined Rosa Parks, who would not give up her seat, in the most exclusive, yet most universal, American club: the club of ordinary heroes.

“We should be vigilant to make sure this will never happen again,” Korematsu said upon receiving the Medal of Freedom. And he has practiced that vigilance himself. Last October, he joined a friend-of-the-court brief to the Supreme Court, arguing that the extended executive detentions of “enemy combatants” are unconstitutional. Few amicus petitioners have carried more moral authority.

The event that was to change Fred Korematsu’s life forever took place on Feb. 19, 1942, a little more than two months after Pearl Harbor. That was the day that President Franklin Delano Roosevelt — acting under pressure from military authorities, the media and West Coast political leaders — signed Executive Order 9066, authorizing the mass evacuation of 120,000 Americans of Japanese ancestry from the West Coast. The reason given was that the Japanese constituted a military threat. No evidence was ever presented for this claim. Roosevelt did not discuss the order with his cabinet, nor did he ask for justification.

Among the thousands of those affected was the Korematsu family, which ran a nursery in Oakland. The elder Korematsus, like almost all other Americans of Japanese descent, planned to obey without protest. But their son, 22-year-old Fred Korematsu, took a different view. He thought it was wrong and unfair that he should be forced to abandon his home and be sent to a far-off prison camp simply because of his race. After talking things over with his parents and his Italian-American girlfriend, he decided not to go. He was one of only a handful of Japanese-Americans who refused to comply with the internment order.

Korematsu, who had been working as a welder in a shipyard, changed his name and had minor plastic surgery to make himself look less Japanese. He succeeded in avoiding the authorities for about three months, but on May 30, 1942, someone recognized him in a San Leandro store and called police. He was arrested and sent to Tanforan Race Track, where Japanese-Americans were processed (sleeping in horse stalls reeking of manure) before being shipped off to various desolate camps on the wind-swept plateaus of the West. Korematsu was sent to the internment camp at Topaz, Utah.

Before he departed, however, he was visited in jail by a man named Ernest Besig, the executive director of the Northern California chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union. He had read about Korematsu in the paper. He had been looking for a Japanese-American who would challenge the legality of the internment order — a test case. Besig was acting without institutional sanction: the national ACLU, intimidated by war fervor, had decided not to challenge the constitutionality of the internment. He asked the young man if he would agree to go to court.

Korematsu was utterly alone. His family was already gone. His girlfriend was, too — in fact, he never saw her again. His community was scattered. The conservative Japanese American Citizens League, the sole group representing both Issei (Japan-born Americans, forbidden by racist U.S. law from becoming citizens) and Nisei (their American-born children) had decided for strategic reasons to go along quietly with whatever the authorities ordered. By fighting the government, Korematsu risked alienating himself from his peers, many of whom had decided that the only way to prove their loyalty was to keep their heads down.

Korematsu agreed to fight the government in court. In October 1944, with World War II heading into its brutal final winter, Korematsu’s case reached the Supreme Court. The government’s lawyers argued that in wartime, the military was required to take all steps necessary to protect the national security. It cited a report by General DeWitt, the officer responsible for the defense of the West Coast (and whose recommendation was responsible for Executive Order 9066), claiming that many people of Japanese ancestry were disloyal and that there was no time to figure out which of them were loyal and which were not.

Korematsu’s lawyers charged that the evacuation orders were transparently racist and denied an entire class of people due process and equal protection under the law. They pointed out that not a single episode of espionage or sabotage had taken place during the four months between Pearl Harbor and General DeWitt’s first evacuation order. (This fact did not faze DeWitt, who in his “Final Report: Japanese Evacuation From the West Coast” boldly made the Orwellian argument that “the very fact that no sabotage or espionage has taken place to date is disturbing and confirming indication that such action will take place.”) They argued that DeWitt was himself a racist, citing this statement he made in 1943 before a congressional committee:

“A Jap’s a Jap. It makes no difference whether he is an American citizen or not. I don’t want any of them … They are a dangerous element, whether loyal or not.”

DeWitt’s viewpoint was probably shared in some form by most Americans. At bottom, the fear was of a racially tinged “clash of civilizations”: the Japanese were mysterious and opaque, not “real” Americans, and when the chips were down they were likely to betray their new nation in favor of their race. This belief was eloquently expressed by none other than Earl Warren, the California attorney general who was later to become the famously liberal chief justice of the United States. Testifying in 1942 before a House committee, Warren said, “the consensus of opinion among the law-enforcement officers of this State is that there is more potential danger among the group of Japanese who are born in this country than from the alien Japanese who were born in Japan. We believe that when we are dealing with the Caucasian race we have methods that will test the loyalty of them, and we believe that we can, in dealing with the Germans and Italians, arrive at some fairly sound conclusions because of our knowledge of the way they live in the community and have lived for many years. But when we deal with the Japanese we are in an entirely different field and we can not form any opinion that we believe to be sound.”

This, then, was the intellectual climate in which the Supreme Court heard the case. On Dec. 18, 1944, the court handed down its decision. The divided court (6-3) ruled against Korematsu. In his majority opinion, Justice Hugo Black essentially deferred to the military authorities and Congress, who had stated that the presence of an uncertain number of disloyal Japanese made it necessary to remove all of them from the coast. Quoting the Court’s opinion in Hirabayashi, an earlier case involving a Japanese-American who knowingly violated a curfew, Black wrote, “We cannot reject as unfounded the judgment of the military authorities and of Congress that there were disloyal members of that population, whose number and strength could not be precisely and quickly ascertained. We cannot say that the war-making branches of the Government did not have ground for believing that in a critical hour such persons could not readily be isolated and separately dealt with, and constituted a menace to the national defense and safety, which demanded that prompt and adequate measures be taken to guard against it.”

Black denied that racism lay behind the relocation order, only military necessity. But neither he nor the rest of the majority seemed interested in trying to find out just what that military necessity was. Certainly little evidence, and no convincing evidence, was advanced of Japanese-American disloyalty. (In fact, not a single case of sabotage or espionage by Japanese-Americans ever took place during the entire war.) Black cited the fact that 5,000 internees refused to swear unqualified allegiance to the United States, overlooking the fact that their forcible removal from their homes and businesses without legal recourse might have had something to do with their refusal. Nor did he deal with the uncomfortable fact that neither Italian-Americans nor German-Americans were evacuated from their homes and forced into prison camps.

It is difficult to escape the conclusion that Black, who was a former member of the Ku Klux Klan, subscribed at some level to the same racist beliefs that infected so many other Americans. Why else would he have so uncritically accepted the feeble national-security arguments advanced by the government?

Whatever his motivations, it was a decision that was reportedly to haunt Black for the rest of his life. After all, Black was one of the court’s greatest defenders of civil liberties, author of the now-classic decision in the landmark Pentagon Papers case. (Ironically, the most towering civil liberties advocate in court history, Justice William O. Douglas, concurred with the majority in Korematsu.) But though troubled by the ruling, Black was never able to bring himself to admit he was wrong. In a 1967 interview, Black said, “I would do precisely the same thing today, in any part of the country. I would probably issue the same order were I President. We had a situation where we were at war. People were rightly fearful of the Japanese in Los Angeles, many loyal to the United States, many undoubtedly not, having dual citizenship — lots of them. They all look alike to a person not a Jap. Had they [the Japanese] attacked our shores you’d have a large number fighting with the Japanese troops. And a lot of innocent Japanese-Americans would have been shot in the panic. Under these circumstances I saw nothing wrong in moving them away from the danger area.”

In a biting dissent, Justice Frank Murphy called the ruling “a legalization of racism.” But Korematsu had lost.

The war ended and Korematsu, along with thousands of other internees, got out of the camps and on with his life. He did not like to talk about his Supreme Court case; in fact, his own daughter only learned about it in class. He wanted to reopen his case but didn’t know how. It was not until 1983 that his now-ancient legal battle stirred again.

As recounted in Eric Paul Fournier’s moving 2000 documentary “Of Civil Rights and Wrongs,” which with Steven Okazaki’s “Unfinished Business” offers a powerful account of Korematsu’s fight, a San Diego historian and law professor named Peter Irons made the kind of discovery that historians, lawyers and journalists can only dream about: He came upon documentary evidence proving that the government had knowingly lied to the Supreme Court in the original Korematsu case.

In researching a book on the internment cases, Irons made a request to the National Archives for the actual case files, which had been misfiled. “It was just by chance that one slip of paper survived stating where the cases were,” Irons says in the film. “In fact, they were sitting in three cardboard boxes that were covered with dust, tied up with string. And it was obvious that I was the first person in more than 40 years who’d looked at these files. I knew that there would be a lot of case material, the kind of stuff that lawyers produce — memos, briefs, things like that. What I did not expect to find was literally on the top of the first file, a document from one of the Justice Department lawyers to the Solicitor General of the United States saying we are telling lies to the Supreme Court. We have an obligation to tell the truth to the court.”

The documents showed that the solicitor-general of the United States, Charles Fahey, knew that all of the military’s arguments that Japanese-Americans were engaging in subversive behavior were contradicted by reports from the FBI and military intelligence — and failed to share that information with the court. Smoking guns don’t get much more billowing.

Irons visited Korematsu at his San Leandro home and showed him the documents. Korematsu sat in silence for 15 or 20 minutes, puffing on his pipe, reading the documents. Then he asked Irons, “Are you a lawyer?” Irons said he was. “Would you be my lawyer?”

And so the battle was joined again. This time, Korematsu would win.

A legal team led by Irons and a young Sansei (third-generation Japanese-American) lawyer named Dale Minami filed a coram nobis petition on Korematsu’s behalf in a San Francisco district court. “Coram nobis” is Latin for “before us”: Like the related writ of habeas corpus, which protects against illegal detention, coram nobis applies to those individuals who have been convicted wrongfully and have served their sentence. To prove coram nobis, the petitioner must show that a fundamental error or manifest injustice has been committed. Only egregious errors of fact or prosecutorial misconduct, not interpretations of the law, will result in a successful coram nobis writ.

Fortunately, that is exactly what Korematsu’s attorneys had. In fact, so incendiary were the documents that the lawyers feared they would “disappear”; they met in secret for many months. The team made a tactical decision to file in the District Court, rather than to the high court, because there was a much greater chance they would lose in the Supreme Court.

The government, clearly aware that it was doomed, stalled, arguing about procedure. It offered Korematsu a pardon — which of course implies guilt. Korematsu refused.

Finally the judge hearing the case, Marilyn Hall Patel, grew impatient with the government’s delaying tactics. She asked the lead government attorney whether the government was going to oppose the petition or agree to it. The attorney said he didn’t have the authority to make that decision. She told him to go call someone “right now” who did have that authority. He came back and said he still couldn’t make that decision. At this point, Patel decided that the government had in effect confessed error, “even though they don’t say in those magic incantation words ‘we confess error.’ They had done substantially the same thing.” She prepared a substantive decision to read in the courtroom the next day, knowing that it would be packed with people.

The next day, the government made its arguments. It argued that the case should not be reopened because to do so would be to reopen old wounds. There was no reason to go back and try to find out what actually happened back then, the government said — why not just let bygones be bygones?

Minami responded by pointing out that the only “old wounds” that would be reopened would be those of a government that had lied to the Supreme Court, not those of people who had already lost their homes and livelihood. Then he asked if Fred Korematsu could make a short statement.

Korematsu said that 41 years ago, he entered this courtroom in handcuffs and was sent to a camp that was not fit for human habitation. Horse stalls are for horses, not people. He asked the court to overturn his conviction, saying, in Minami’s recollection, “that what happened to him could happen to any American citizen who looks different or who comes from a different country and that it was important for this court to understand that the relief given to him was not just for him personally, but in a sense, for the benefit of the whole country.”

When Korematsu finished, Patel read her ruling to the courtroom right from the bench. She said that there was sufficient evidence of governmental misconduct to overturn the conviction. Evidence had been suppressed. The policies of the U.S. government were infected with racism. She said that the Constitution had to be protected at all times for all people. Then she got up and left the court.

For a moment, after she left, the entire audience was stunned. History had been made in front of their eyes: a great injustice had been legally expunged. But it was too big to take in. Korematsu asked someone, “What happened?” He was told, “You won.” Then it sank in. The crowd, many of them camp survivors, was overcome with emotion. They swarmed Korematsu, hugged him. Tears flowed — but this time they were tears of vindication. The young shipyard welder’s long odyssey had finally ended. He had carried not just himself, but also his people, into the safe harbor of belated justice. That justice did not make up for lives shattered, property lost, hopes blighted. But it helped.

Korematsu’s victory was not complete. The Supreme Court ruling in his case has never been overturned; it remains on the books, like a malignant virus, waiting to be activated when racist paranoia and war hysteria sweep aside Americans’ commitment to civil rights. Every generation seems condemned to fight the same battles on different grounds: Guantánamo is today’s Heart Mountain. But the knowledge that ordinary people like Fred Korematsu are there, willing to stand quietly up for their rights, makes it possible to dream that one day the battle will be won.

Gary Kamiya is a Salon contributing writer.

John Roberts’ Gilded Age SCOTUS

Jeffrey Toobin shows how the Citizens United ruling challenged a century of efforts to rein in corporate power

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John Roberts' Gilded Age SCOTUSJohn Roberts (Credit: AP/Pablo Martinez Monsivais)

The most important revelation in Jeffrey Toobin’s 10,000-word New Yorker piece on Chief Justice John Roberts’ takedown of campaign finance laws in the Citizens United case is the extent to which modern conservatism is trying to restore the Gilded Age. That was a time when corporations had more rights than individuals, when a conservative Supreme Court did its best to protect those corporate rights, and wealth and corruption ran unchecked. Of course, we live in a neo-Gilded Age, when income inequality is more pronounced than at any time since the Great Depression, and the Roberts court’s decisions in the Citizens United case helps bring us all the way back to those bad old days.

Much is being made of Toobin’s revelations about the dramatic internal political divisions and infighting within the court triggered by the CU decision (more on that later). But what I think is most politically significant in Toobin’s piece is that it shows the dramatic rightward – and backward — march of Republicanism over the last 30 years. In January 1982, Ronald Reagan famously wrote in his diary, “The press is trying to paint me as trying to undo the New Deal … I’m trying to undo the Great Society.” Reagan was anxious to unravel the anti-poverty programs Lyndon Johnson pushed into place (though not Medicare), but he collaborated with House Speaker Tip O’Neill to pass payroll tax increases to stabilize Social Security for the next 50 to 60 years.

Today’s Tea Party, of course, is going after what’s left of the Great Society and the New Deal too, trying to privatize Medicare and Social Security and undo the labor protections passed by Congress and many states in the wake of the Great Depression. But the Roberts court wants to go back even further, to the Progressive Era, when some politicians in both parties recognized that the omnipotence of Gilded Age robber barons had to be curbed – and that campaign finance regulation was a good place to start.

Back then a conservative Supreme Court majority also disagreed with that Progressive reform push. In an 1886 tax case it first held that the 14th Amendment’s equal protection laws applied to corporations. In its 1905 Lochner ruling, striking down a New York law limiting bakery workers to a six-day 60-hour week, it declared such regulations a breach of contract rights, an “unreasonable, unnecessary and arbitrary interference with the right of the individual to his personal liberty or to enter into those contracts in relation to labor which may seem to him appropriate or necessary for the support of himself and his family.” As Toobin observes, “In simple terms, the majority in Lochner turned the Fourteenth Amendment, which was enacted to protect the rights of newly freed slaves, into a mechanism to advance the interest of business owners.”

Progressive era reform also included campaign finance regulation, starting with the 1907 Tillman Act, which prevented corporations from directly contributing to campaigns. The Court let the act stand, but over the years a series of rulings by conservative majorities have managed to establish that money is “speech,” and though contributions could be regulated, expenditures – speech – could not.

Toobin shows decisively that the court could have kept its decision on Citizens United quite narrow. Attorney Theodore Olson wasn’t seeking to strike down McCain-Feingold, but to clarify that it applied to television commercials, not to 90-minute political “documentaries” such as “Hillary: The Movie” (a shriekingly negative “documentary” on the woman who was expected to be the 2008 Democratic presidential nominee). But in oral arguments the conservative justices sought to broaden their purview, and Roberts helped them along. “As the Chief Justice chose how broadly to change the law in this area, the real question for him, it seems, was how much he wanted to help the Republican Party,” Toobin writes. “Roberts’s choice was: a lot.”

After taking a shot at drafting the CU ruling himself, he later assigned it to “swing vote” Anthony Kennedy, whose views on campaign finance regulation reliably put him with the conservative majority. Assigned to write the dissent, outgoing Justice David Souter accused Roberts “of violating the Court’s own procedures to engineer the result he wanted,” Toobin says. That’s when Roberts took the extraordinary step of asking that CU be re-argued – though with five justices already committed to a sweeping attack on McCain-Feingold, the outcome of those re-arguments were never really in doubt.

And indeed, Kennedy again wound up writing the majority opinion, which found that “The Court has recognized that First Amendment protection extends to corporations” since 1886, and that in McCain-Feingold “the Government has muffled the voices that best represent the most significant segments of the economy.” It’s unclear from the context whether Kennedy is saying what he seems to be – that corporations “best represent the most significant segments of the economy.”

Justice John Paul Stevens, a moderate Republican once on the court’s more conservative end, wrote in his dissenting opinion, “Five Justices were unhappy with the limited nature of the case before us, so they changed the case to give themselves an opportunity to change the law.” Stevens’s dissent continued for a record 90 pages.

At bottom, the Court’s opinion is thus a rejection of the common sense of the American people, who have recognized a need to prevent corporations from undermining self-government since the founding, and who have fought against the distinctive corrupting potential of corporate electioneering since the days of Theodore Roosevelt. It is a strange time to repudiate that common sense. While American democracy is imperfect, few outside the majority of this Court would have thought its flaws included a dearth of corporate money in politics.

Toobin’s conclusion is no less scathing: “The Roberts Court, it appears, will guarantee moneyed interests the freedom to raise and spend any amount, from any source, at any time, in order to win elections.”

It’s worth noting that the most spirited opposition to Citizens United is coming from Montana, where the ties between Gilded Age corporate abuse and campaign finance regulation are perhaps the most explicit. Copper mining interests essentially owned the state in the late 19th and early 20th century, but Montana Progressives pushed a tough campaign finance law as a way of clawing back control of their state from the “copper kings,” who Mark Twain wrote “bought judges and legislatures as other men buy food and raiment.” Montana’s state Supreme Court upheld that 1912 “Corrupt Practices Act” in January, putting the state on a collision course with SCOTUS. Gov. Brian Schweitzer has been one of the most articulate voices against Citizens United, and supports a state ballot initiative that would ban corporate money in politics and make it state policy that corporations are not people.

“Montana’s going first, but we have before,” Schweitzer told the Huffington Post earlier this month. “It was Montana in 1912 that banned corporate money from our elections. We don’t mind leading and we believe it has to start somewhere. This business of allowing corporations to bribe their way into government has got to stop.”

But in a world where the Citizens United decision is precedent, it’s hard to imagine that ballot measure surviving a legal challenge. Toobin’s piece makes clear the stakes in the 2012 presidential race as vividly as anything else does: American democracy can’t survive the appointment of more justices like Roberts, Sam Alito and Antonin Scalia, who mainly serve the interests of corporate America. Mitt “Corporations are people, too, my friend” Romney can be expected to give them company in the years to come if he wins the White House.

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Joan Walsh

Joan Walsh is Salon's editor at large.

Obama destroys Constitution with mild Supreme Court criticism

Conservatives and moderates declare SCOTUS-bashing to be "intimidation"

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Obama destroys Constitution with mild Supreme Court criticism (Credit: AP)

Ruth Marcus is unsettled. Maybe even queasy. There is probably some light nausea. What has her worried for the future of the nation, today? President Obama’s shameful, horrific, vicious attacks on those nice people in the Supreme Court.

Obama said that the court overturning Congress’ healthcare reform law would be a textbook example of “judicial activism” as “conservative commentators” define it: “that an unelected group of people would somehow overturn a duly constituted and passed law.” And hey, that seems like an eminently defensible and not particularly unsettling point! Conservatives made “judicial activism” into a talking point and rallying cry and defined it vaguely enough to encompass judges striking down basically any law or statute.

Marcus, though, is stopped cold.

And yet, Obama’s assault on “an unelected group of people” stopped me cold. Because, as the former constitutional law professor certainly understands, it is the essence of our governmental system to vest in the court the ultimate power to decide the meaning of the constitution. Even if, as the president said, it means overturning “a duly constituted and passed law.”

Judicial review, as a former constitutional law professor certainly understands, is not in the Constitution — an unelected activist judge made it up! — and the founders themselves disagreed on the wisdom of the principle. (They tended, in fact, to decide whether or not they liked judicial review based on whether or not the judges ruled in a way that they approved of.) The history of the Supreme Court is replete with nakedly political and mostly conservative rulings until very recently, when we had a brief period of liberal-leaning rulings from a marginally more diverse group followed by a return to status quo conservatism.

As long as the Supreme Court has been making awful and indefensible rulings based on ideology or racism, presidents and politicians have been criticizing the court. Abraham Lincoln attacked the Supreme Court in his first inaugural address, in a passage that conservatives love to quote when they’re attacking “activist judges.”

At the same time the candid citizen must confess that if the policy of the government, upon vital questions, affecting the whole people, is to be irrevocably fixed by decisions of the Supreme Court, the instant they are made, in ordinary litigation between parties, in personal actions, the people will have ceased, to be their own rulers, having, to that extent, practically resigned their government, into the hands of that eminent tribunal.

I am stopped cold and unsettled!

Marcus, hilariously enough, supports the healthcare law and the mandate — she is the world’s most sensitive milquetoast moderate liberal newspaper columnist, after all — which theoretically means she thinks it’s constitutional, which would mean that declaring it unconstitutional should maybe upset her more than criticizing the court for being political, but on the other hand those judges seem very smart and our entire system of government could collapse if we aren’t all super polite to one another and constantly deferential to authority.

I would lament a ruling striking down the individual mandate, but I would not denounce it as conservative justices run amok. Listening to the arguments and reading the transcript, the justices struck me as a group wrestling with a legitimate, even difficult, constitutional question. For the president to imply that the only explanation for a constitutional conclusion contrary to his own would be out-of-control conservative justices does the court a disservice.

Yes, I could tell they were very seriously wrestling with a difficult constitutional question when Scalia began joking around about broccoli mandates and the legendary “Cornhusker Kickback.”

I’m not sure what more the Supreme Court could do before moderates like Ruth Marcus finally acknowledged that it’s a partisan body with a right-wing majority. If Bush v. Gore didn’t do it, maybe nothing could. But as a partisan body it is open to partisan attacks, and our fragile democracy will not descend into anarchy if people think as poorly of the Court as they currently do of Congress.

Of course, the Republican talking point is that the president is attempting to bully the Court into ruling the way he wants. (Because if they strike down the law, he’ll … yell at them during the State of the Union again? No one seriously predicts an arrest warrant for Chief Justice Roberts here.) Mitch McConnell: “This president’s attempt to intimidate the Supreme Court falls well beyond distasteful politics; it demonstrates a fundamental lack of respect for our system of checks and balances.” Lamar Smith: “What is unprecedented is for the president of the United States trying to intimidate the Supreme Court.” Mike Johanns: “”What President Obama is doing here isn’t right. It is threatening, it is intimidating.” (Did you notice how everyone used the word “intimidate”? That’s because they got their language from a memo.)

The only time, besides Lincoln’s suspension of habeas corpus, that any president has seriously threatened the independence of the Supreme Court was when Franklin Roosevelt tried to amend the law to give the president the power to appoint more justices. And Roosevelt, frankly, was right on the merits of his proposal. The court is completely unaccountable and ridiculously powerful, it always has been, and pointing that out does not a constitutional crisis provoke.

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Alex Pareene

Alex Pareene writes about politics for Salon and is the author of "The Rude Guide to Mitt." Email him at apareene@salon.com and follow him on Twitter @pareene

Justices run amok: Fixing the Supreme Court

Judges on the right and left legislate from the bench. So why don't we just elect them?

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Justices run amok: Fixing the Supreme CourtAntonin Scalia, John Roberts and Clarence Thomas

On Monday, we had another example of the Supreme Court’s ideological division: a 5-4 ruling, along partisan lines, giving police the right to conduct strip searches for any offense. This came on the heels of last week’s oral arguments before the Supreme Court about the constitutionality of the individual mandate provision of the Affordable Care Act, which led many observers to predict that the nation’s highest judicial body will strike down part or all of the controversial healthcare reform package. But the hearings were instructive in other ways. They showed once again that political partisanship is closely correlated to a justice’s view of the law. And they proved that the Supreme Court once again is functioning, not as a court, but as a third house of the federal legislature.

The U.S. Constitution, like many state constitutions, really is two constitutions in one. There is the black-letter constitution, which consists of rules about which there is little or no dispute. Most of these have to do with qualifications for representatives, like Article I, Section 3, Clause 1, as amended: “The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, for six Years; and each Senator shall have one Vote.” Not a whole lot of room for interpretation there.

The other constitution, embedded in the same document, is the Blank Constitution. It is not so much a limit on power as an assignment of the power to fill in blanks left in the text, like the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition of “cruel and unusual punishment.” The need to fill in the blank is admitted even by champions of the “original intent theory,” who must dig up historical evidence of what the drafters and ratifiers might have thought was cruel and unusual punishment at the time of the Constitution’s adoption. The answer is not contained in the text.

Even the basic definitions of powers assigned to different branches of government are blanks that must be filled in. The basic issue in the case of the Affordable Care Act is whether Congress had the power to compel individuals to purchase private health insurance, under the Commerce Clause and the Necessary and Proper Clause of the Constitution. Article I, Section 8, Clause 3 of the Constitution gives Congress the power “to regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States, and with the Indian Tribes.” Article I, Section 8, Clause 18 gives Congress the power “to make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Officer thereof.”

Is the power to prescribe an individual health insurance purchase mandate included in these powers granted by the Constitution to Congress? The Constitution does not specifically say. If the Constitution were easy to amend, like some state constitutions, then it could be more specific — at the cost of having hundreds of amendments, like an imaginary Amendment Number 873: “Congress shall have power to impose an individual mandate to purchase health insurance.” But the federal constitution, for better or worse, was designed to be difficult to amend.

There is therefore no escaping acts of interpretation that are really acts of legislation: filling in the blanks in the text of the Constitution. The only real question, therefore, is how much latitude the federal judiciary should give Congress when Congress fills in the blanks by passing laws.

The Whig Party between the 1830s and the 1860s thought that the federal judiciary should defer to Congress. The Whigs favored a strong, competent federal government and opposed restrictions on federal power in the name of the states. Opposed to the administration of Andrew Jackson, the Whig Party also wanted the powers of the presidency strictly limited. In the Whig view, the federal judiciary should defend congressional power against encroachments by the states and the executive branch, while deferring to the decisions of Congress on matters of federal legislation.

The Whig theory of the Constitution strikes me as a pretty good one. But it rules out judicial activism, which has been embraced at different times by different factions in American politics. Between the Civil War and the New Deal, a pro-business federal judiciary persecuted unions and struck down federal, state and local restraints on corporations. In the civil rights era, liberal federal judges went beyond striking down racist laws to discovering a “right to privacy” in the Constitution that has been used to eliminate or restrict laws against abortion and homosexuality. Whatever you think about the outcomes of these cases, it is clear that the courts in all of them were just making things up.

In the case of the “right to privacy” they weren’t even filling in a blank in the Constitution, because the term does not exist in the text. In Griswold v. Connecticut, the 1965 case on which all subsequent federal law involving sex and reproductive rights including Roe v. Wade has been built, Justice William O. Douglas wrote that while the Constitution said nothing about contraceptives the “specific guarantees in the Bill of Rights have penumbras, formed by emanations from those guarantees that help give them life and substance.” The right to privacy is a penumbra from an emanation — in other words, it is whatever a majority of the Supreme Court says it is at any given moment.

Liberals applaud the federal judiciary when it pretends to find constitutional restrictions on the ability of states to ban abortion or gay sex, and conservatives and libertarians applaud the federal judiciary when it pretends to find constitutional restrictions on the ability of Congress to regulate the national economy. The left and the right endorse judicial activism when it works in their favor and denounce it when it produces what they think are the wrong results.

For my part, I think the Whigs with their theory of judicial deference to Congress got it right. The states have usually been a greater threat to personal liberty and economic growth than the federal government. Yes, the federal government interned Japanese-Americans during World War II and has abused civil liberties in other ways, and before the Civil War some Northern states were more protective of freedom than the slaveholder-dominated federal government. But throughout American history national majorities, acting through the federal government, have more often checked the illiberalism of local majorities.

Economic policy, too, is best carried out at the federal level in a nation with a continental market. The Balkanization of the U.S. economy into 50 separate state economies by state regulations — even good regulations — is something that should be avoided. And as corrupt and partisan as it is, Congress is better equipped to make public policy than judges.

But wouldn’t judicial deference toward Congress and a broad interpretation of congressional power run the risk of majoritarian tyranny over minorities at the national level? The historical record suggests otherwise. The Supreme Court has almost never been ahead of the political branches when it comes to minority rights or individual freedom. The Court intervened in Brown v. Board only when the civil rights revolution was well underway in the streets and in legislatures, and it intervened in Roe v. Wade and recent gay rights cases only when waves of reform were making progress in federal, state and local legislatures. The federal judiciary has often run out with its surfboard to ride a wave of liberation, but it has never caused the wave. Indeed, in the last half-century the same reforms — anti-racism, the liberalization of abortion laws and the rise of gay rights — have taken place at roughly the same time in all advanced industrial democracies, including Britain, which has no written constitution at all.

When they try to fill in the blanks in the Constitution themselves, instead of letting Congress do the job, federal judges cease to be judges and start acting as legislators — incompetent legislators, like the Supreme Court justices who wrestled with issues like adverse selection in insurance policies in last week’s hearings. A number of state constitutions provide for the direct election of state Supreme Court justices by the people. Perhaps the federal Constitution should be amended along similar lines. Why not? If our laws are to be made by a tricameral federal legislature with three branches of the legislature — the House, the Senate and the Supreme Court — we the people might as well be empowered to elect the lawmakers in all three.

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Michael Lind’s new book, "Land of Promise: An Economic History of the United States", will be published in April and can be pre-ordered at Amazon.com.

Why I need Obamacare

I'm sick, and I will be for the rest of my life. Knowing I won't be denied the insurance I need matters

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Why I need ObamacareSupporters of health care reform stand in front of the Supreme Court in Washington, Wednesday, March 28, 2012, on the final day of arguments regarding the health care law signed by President Barack Obama. (AP Photo/Charles Dharapak)(Credit: AP)
This originally appeared on Cedar Burnett's Open Salon blog. It was written in a response to a call for essays about people's personal experiences with the Affordable Care Act. Have an Obamacare story of your own? Blog about it on Open Salon.

Dear healthy people,

It’s great that you’re deriving intellectual pleasure from debating Obamacare. I love that this theoretical dance you’re engaged in has no repercussions to you, a healthy individual. I would love to join you some evening for a spirited discussion on the pros and cons of healthcare reform. Maybe over a glass of wine? Heck — over two or three glasses of wine. I’d love to lean forward, my arched brows furrowed, my full lips purple with the stain of a good Zinfandel, and throw out statistics and well-crafted one-liners about the plight of the uninsured, the underinsured, the sick. Those poor, poor sick.

But I can’t.

I can’t because it isn’t theoretical. I am sick. I’m so sick I can’t drink. I can’t drink and I can’t eat half the things a normal person eats and when I hear the word “Obamacare” hissed in snide derision I want to put a golf club through the windshield of the nearest Mercedes-Benz.

I’m 33 years old. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called ulcerative colitis when I was 26.

Ulcerative colitis isn’t a disease people like to discuss. Most of what we experience is so embarrassing that many of us don’t tell people what we’re going through. We might tell you we’re “sick,” or “under the weather,” but we won’t tell you how bad it is. We won’t tell you we’ve had constant diarrhea for days, weeks, months on end, that we’ve been throwing up stomach acid, that we can’t eat anything but bagels, and that our joints ache so badly it’s hard to sleep. We won’t tell you how we’re wearing adult diapers under our clothes. We won’t tell you that getting in the car and driving three blocks away is the only activity we can do in an entire day.

But you know what we will tell you? We have to have insurance. We need healthcare and support because ulcerative colitis is a lifetime sentence. You know what else it is? A preexisting condition. Since receiving my diagnosis I have lived in fear of losing my insurance because if I let my insurance lapse, and Obamacare fails, I won’t be able to get it again. Ulcerative colitis and her sister, Crohn’s disease, are up there in the echelons of Scary Diseases Insurance Doesn’t Like to Cover.

I get it, I do. Some of our drugs cost a ton. It’s likely we’ll be hospitalized here and there. And many of us can look forward to bowel resection surgery or colon cancer. We’re expensive and we stay expensive for our entire lives. That’s the sticking point with chronic illness like Crohn’s and colitis: We’re sick but we just keep on living. We just don’t die fast enough.

If the health mandate stays, then the preexisting condition clause goes away. Insurance companies have to take everyone — even me. Lose the mandate and I’m right back to worrying about my care.

In truth, I think Obamacare doesn’t go far enough. My family is still coughing up $900 a month to insure the three of us, since my husband and I are self-employed. That’s pretty unsustainable. But at least the current plan includes a provision that insurance companies have to take me. I may have to pay ridiculous sums to keep my insurance, but I’m not going to live in fear of being dropped.

The last thing a sick person should have to worry about is how to pay for their care. The last thing the parent of a sick child or the child of a sick parent should have to worry about is how to pay for care. People should not have to choose between food and medicine, losing their house or losing their loved one. Let’s hold onto Obamacare as a stopgap, but let’s also work toward the goal of universal coverage.

For those of you who think of the healthcare reform debate in theoretical terms, I warn you: Your day is coming. Sure, you and your family are healthy now, but you might not be tomorrow. Sickness can come out of nowhere and knock your world upside down.

You’d better hope you have decent coverage. You’d better hope you’ve won the genetic lottery and you’ll never find yourself sitting in a flimsy hospital gown on a sheet of wax paper, staring down at your unshaven legs while a doctor tells you you have a golf ball-size tumor in your head or ulcers lining your intestines. You’d better hope Obamacare covers your theoretical ass.

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Cedar Burnett is a freelance writer and toddler wrangler living in Seattle. She is currently working on a book about living with ulcerative colitis.

The conservative grip on power

A ruthless GOP power grab, centered around the Supreme Court, has cemented conservative control in Washington

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The conservative grip on powerClarence Thomas, George W. Bush and Antonin Scalia (Credit: AP)

Writing in Salon, Natasha Lennard proposes that with the warm weather we can again expect the Occupy movement to shoot up. Arab Spring, American Spring. She’s right about one thing: Like in the decades before the Arab Spring, it has been a long, cold, American winter. In the 30 years since coming to power here, Republicans have used their initial ascent to power to seal themselves into office as tightly as the pharaohs. Smart commentators have noted how lawless the conservatives are in making substantive decisions, but that’s not the worst of it. The worst of it is how they use their tenure to make it increasingly impossible to oust them.

With this week’s Supreme Court hearings — which will end, liberals worry, with the justices overturning healthcare reform — we are nearing the apotheosis of conservative power. Let us recount how we got here: In 2000, a mob of conservative thugs stopped the vote recount in Florida. And that was before the court got involved, the five conservative justices seizing the election and handing the White House to George W. Bush. Secure in the tenure of their undemocratically selected president, the two older conservative justices, William Rehnquist and Sandra Day O’Connor, retired from the bench. Bush replaced them with two young conservatives, destined, by constitutional design and the miracles of modern medicine, to dominate the court into the foreseeable future. At the Supreme Court, it’s always winter (and never Christmas).

The stunningly inept performance by the Bush administration unforeseeably produced the first Democratic federal government since 1994. Immediately thereafter, the conservative Supreme Court majority ruled that the GOP’s wealthy sponsors could spend an unlimited amount of the money putting conservatives in office. Now, the conservative majority on the Supreme Court, appointed, in part, by the conservative president they put in the White House, is preparing to wipe from the statute books the only piece of meaningful progressive legislation in the last half century, passed during the brief Indian summer of a two-year Democratic majority.

And it’s not just the federal government. In 2010, fueled, in part, by the money the conservative justices unleashed, the conservatives took over state legislatures across the country. In power, they enacted a series of measures that should make Hosni Mubarak blush. They redrew the legislative maps to guarantee that they would hold a majority of the legislatures, state and federal, regardless of whether they failed to gain a majority of actual votes. (The design of the Senate, favoring sparsely populated rural states, already way overrepresents the Republicans.) Using a panoply of legislative strategies, they made it infinitely harder for the Democrats to register their supporters and for the Democratic voters, even if registered, to vote. Voters must be reported within 24 hours of being registered or penalties will be levied on the laggard registrars. Would-be voters must produce a fistful of identity documents, notoriously more common among old white (Republican) voters than the youthful and nonwhite Americans likely to support the Democrats. If they run the registration gauntlet, they must again verify their identity on Election Day, with the same culturally skewed set of papers. In the swing state of Florida, the New York Times reports, the activists have given up registering new voters: Too perilous.

True, the Democrats have not been models of political virtue. Cowardly when confronted by their powerful adversaries, confused about the moral grounding of their political vision, faithless to their allies, racketing from one trendy policy initiative to another, without anything resembling long-term planning — with enemies like the Democrats, who needs friends? But blaming the victim is way too easy. Democrats made the mistake of behaving as if the American rules of representative government still applied. Confronted with the lawless conservative Republicans, their fate was sealed.

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Linda Hirshman is the author of “Victory: The Triumphant Gay Revolution,” forthcoming in June 2012. Follow her on Twitter @LindaHirshman1

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