The debate over the jurisdiction-stripping bill passed by the House last week (
H.R.3313), is actually three debates: first, a debate over the meaning of marriage, second, a professional debate over the constitutionality of jurisdiction-stripping measures in general, and, third, a debate over the relative powers of Congress and the courts.
1)
Marriage. Most Republicans seem to want marriage to be defined as the "union of one man and one woman," and most Republicans also want this to be an invariable definition embedded in national rules -- localized consent to alternate understandings are not permissible, on this view. (There may be some exceptions among Republicans, but they haven't been talking a lot recently.)
My view is that Republicans are wrong on this score. Marriage does not require a uniform rule, and same-sex partners should be allowed to marry. And it will eventually happen.
2) The
professional debate is nicely summarized by an outline
provided by Eugene Volokh. For an eloquent explanation of "VI. Major Theory #2: Dissenting View -- Mandatory Federal Jurisdiction Theory," see Josh Chafetz's posts
here and
here.
I don't really have an opinion on the professional controversy as such, for reasons that should be obvious from what I write below. One response to Josh's point about the Eleventh Amendment (which he knows more about than I) is that the existence of a constitutional amendment is not necessarily a judgment on the constitutionality of an identical statute. It's at least possible that the appeal to an amendment process is an attempt to enforce a rule that members of Congress, say, believe is constitutional, but that a recalcitrant and overreaching judiciary might declare unconstitutional. It's an empirical (or historical) question whether or not the Eleventh Amendment fits that category, though.
3) But the professional debate doesn't really matter all that much, at least in the following respect. Jurisdiction-stripping bills should be celebrated as an
attempt by members of Congress to engage in substantive constitutional lawmaking. Jurisdiction-stripping is an attempt by Congress to claim more authority over certain areas of legislation. It shouldn’t trouble Congress all that much whether or not the professional legal culture produces more and better arguments that say that such actions are unconstitutional.
Contrast this action with, for example, congressional and executive punting on the question of campaign finance reform. By this I mean: congress passed a big listing steamship of a law and forced a court to take a look at it right away; President Bush signed the law and many Republicans voted for it even though they believed it was unconstitutional; they probably hoped that a free-speech friendly Supreme Court would invalidate it, and they didn't want to spend too much political capital on defending the role of money in politics. Ask yourself: is it better, in general, for Congress to
claim responsibility or to
abdicate it?
On a more mundane level, imagine a world in which there was a definitive and authoritative resolution – in the negative -- to the question of the constitutionality of jurisdiction-stripping (not that hard to imagine from this Court, at least). Congress would be deprived of one of its very few powers to signal courts that they are treading on dangerous ground.
Perhaps the loss of the jurisdiction-stripping threat wouldn't matter all that much. After all, if members of Congress are really serious about something, they can tinker with judicial administration, vote to impeach offending judges, and go public with their concerns. But in the current institutional environment, Congress probably needs all the help it can get.*
Right now, it is pretty uncontroversial to say that jurisdiction-stripping is
"irresponsible [,] reckless and unconstitutional". I'm not so sure that any of these descriptions are correct, and it seems to me that the really interesting puzzle
if is figuring out the genesis of this widespread view.
It probably results from such high-school civics tropes as the division of labor theory of constitutionality: Congress passes laws, the President signs them (and implements them), and the Court determines whether or not they are constitutional. Professional legal opinion also helps out here, as does the experience of the Warren Court (for folks on the left) and the Rehnquist Court (for folks on the right).
One might also add that belief in the interpretive superiority of courts could be an unintended consequence of Reaganite government-bashing. For Reaganites, "government" can't be trusted to make good decisions, but courts can somehow be above the political fray, as long as judges possess the requisite virtues (which, amazingly enough, Republicans are better able than Democrats to perceive in judicial candidates). It's a nice, self-reinforcing argument. For folks on the left, the Republican takeover of Congress in 1994 probably didn't do much to sustain their faith in Congress as a constitutional interpreter. H.R. 3313 doesn't help much, either.
Nonetheless, Democrats shouldn't be too harsh in their criticism of jurisdiction-stripping as such. When they're in charge of Congress again, their time will come as well. It probably won't be too long, either.
For more on the debate, see Will Baude
here, and see a nice post by Larry Sullivan on an earlier jurisdiction-stripping proposal,
here.
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*MORE: I say these even though, as I've noted before, I think that one shouldn't overstate the extent to which the Supreme Court is more powerful than Congress. Republican court-bashing often proceeds from faulty empirical assumptions that actually rest on claims of judicial supremacy. There are always lots of ways to respond to court rulings, and other actors need only to avail themselves of those options.
MORE, AGAIN:
Thomas Nephew has some additional thoughts
here, and he points to a brilliant Fafblog post that comes to different conclusions than I do here. And Fafblog is a lot funnier than I am. Go read
Fafblog. I think that Thomas and Fafblog are wrong, though, to say or imply that jurisdiction-stripping is an end run around the amendment process. The nice thing about jurisdiction stripping is that it is, in fact, ordinary legislation that can be repealed by Congress. Congress doesn't repeal many laws, to be sure, and one shouldn't overstate the ease with which it does so (but going eastward on Capitol Hill, neither should one overestimate the staying power of Supreme Court decisions). It's an extraordinary power, one that is not likely to be used all that often, and its effectiveness both as a threat and as a legislative device is already clouded by doubts about its constitutionality. Obviously I want to think through this some more, but as I note above, to the extent that jurisdiction-stripping forces Congress to take responsibility for the development of constitutional norms, it should be celebrated, even if this particular instance is a bad idea for policy reasons. The question is, what would be the effect of jurisdiction-stripping as a legislative device over the long term and used by both political parties for ends that you find alternately good and bad?