Sunday, April 20, 2014

Celebrating Times v. Sullivan, Though Dissent Is Heard

       When the Supreme Court struck down so-called “aggregate” campaign contribution limits earlier this month [April 2], Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. cast the decision as in line with a long series of free-speech rulings. “If the First Amendment protects flag burning, funeral protests, and Nazi parades — despite the profound offense such spectacles cause — it surely protects political campaign speech despite popular opposition,” Roberts wrote.
       Justice Antonin Scalia was not on the court at the time of the Nazi parade decision (National Socialist Party v. Village of Skokie, 1977), but he joined in the two other earlier decisions: Texas v. Johnson, 1989; and Snyder v. Phelps, 2011. Indeed, Scalia often boasts of his vote in the flag-burning case to prove his fidelity to originalist constitutional principles.
       Scalia’s devotion to freedom of speech, however, has its limits. He draws the line at a landmark decision being celebrated this year on the occasion of its fiftieth anniversary: New York Times v. Sullivan. The court’s 1964 decision established the now famous rule that a public official cannot recover damages for libel unless he or she proves that the alleged defamation was made with knowledge that it was false or with reckless disregard as to its truth or falsity.
       Appearing in a joint interview with Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg on The Kalb Report [April 17], Scalia volunteered his disagreement with the decision. “It’s wrong,” Scalia said. “You cannot sue anybody for libel unless you can prove he knew it was a lie,” Scalia declaimed. The Framers “would have been appalled” by the ruling. The court “was revising the Constitution,” he continued, not interpreting it.
       Ginsburg quietly demurred. If the Founding Fathers had been around in the 1960s, they would have approved of the decision, she said. Today, she added, the ruling is “well accepted.”
       Indeed, the precedent is quite secure: no justice has called in a published opinion for reconsidering the ruling since Chief Justice Warren E. Burger and Justice Byron R. White did in separate opinions in a 1985 decision, Dun & Bradstreet, Inc. v. Greenmoss Builders, Inc. But Scalia’s was not the only dissenting voice heard during the 50th anniversary celebration. Writing for Bloomberg View last month [March 27], Harvard law professor Cass Sunstein echoed the complaint heard often from public officials that the ruling has left them with no protection against slanderous lies, especially from the news media.
       Far from promoting democracy, Sunstein opined, the ruling has actually disserved self-government. “Talk show hosts, bloggers and users of social media can spread ugly falsehoods in an instant—exposing citizens to lies that may well cause them to look on their leaders with unjustified suspicion,” he wrote. The decision, he continued, “can claim at least some responsibility for adding to a climate of distrust and political polarization in the U.S.”
       With those complaints in mind, it is well to recall the case itself. The Times was called to answer in an Alabama courtroom, along with four leaders of Martin Luther King’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference, for an advertisement the civil rights group had placed in the newspaper in 1960. Montgomery police commissioner L.B. Sullivan was not named in the ad, but sued for libel on the theory that the criticism of “police” with minor factual discrepancies defamed him personally.
       Sullivan won six-figure judgments against the Times and the civil rights leaders — serious financial penalties for the newspaper, not to mention the civil rights leaders. The Alabama Supreme Court affirmed the judgments, blinking at Sullivan’s implausible theory of the case.
       Unanimously, the Supreme Court reversed the decision and went further to order Sullivan’s suit dismissed altogether. Justice William J. Brennan Jr. rightly noted that Sullivan’s theory would have allowed libel suits for any criticism of government. And he surely captured the Founding Fathers’ spirit when he said the First Amendment reflects “a national commitment to the principle that debate on public issues should be robust, uninhibited, and wide open and that it may well include vehement, caustic, and sometimes unpleasantly sharp attacks on government and public officials.”
       Despite the rhetorical flourish, Brennan actually crafted a compromise of sorts: the so-called “actual malice” test allows a public official to win a libel case by meeting the demanding burden of proof. Three justices — Hugo Black, William O. Douglas, and Arthur J. Goldberg — would have gone further and blocked libel suits by public officials for anything relating to their official duties.
       The court fractured three years later in imposing the same burden of proof on public figures in libel cases. Over the years, the court has limited the impact of that decision by narrowing somewhat the definition of public figures. Still, it is undeniably true that libel cases are daunting for public official and public figure plaintiffs these days.
       Importantly, this free-speech protection for libel defendants extends not just to the institutional press, but to anyone — including the bloggers and social media users that Sunstein referenced. As Roberts acknowledged in the campaign contributions case, freedom of speech does come at a cost. But public officials and public figures know how to defend themselves in public debate without the chilling effect of hauling their critics into court. Fifty years out, Times v. Sullivan rightly deserves its place in the pantheon of First Amendment landmarks.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

For Couples, Marriage Cases Are Verry Personal

       After the arguments in the Utah gay marriage case had ended, the state’s recently appointed attorney general Sean Reyes approached the six plaintiffs in the case to offer sympathy for what they have gone through. “It’s not personal,” Reyes told the three couples, according to the account by Los Angeles Times reporter Jenny Deam.
       Reyes, a Republican and the first Latino to hold statewide office in Utah, elaborated when reporters caught up with him.  “I wish them the best,” said Reyes, son of an immigrant Filipino father. “Their families are as important to them as mine is to me." Reyes continued to strike a conciliatory tone the next day at a rally of gay marriage opponents, urging the crowd to be “respectful” and “empathetic” toward those on the other side.
       For her part, the lawyer for the plaintiffs also took a conciliatory stance during the hour-long arguments in the case before three judges from the Tenth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals [April 10]. When Salt Lake City attorney Peggy Tomsic said the state’s voter-enacted ban on same-sex marriage reflected “animus,” Judge Paul Kelly asked whether she was accusing the people of Utah of being “mean-spirited or bigoted.” Tomsic quickly demurred. Animus, she explained, was merely “a constitutional term of art” used to describe exclusionary laws that had no rational basis.
       Reporters who covered the arguments were naturally tentative in their stories about the likely outcome of the case, but anyone who listens to the audio posted on the court’s web site can hear the outlines of a decision to strike down the Utah measure. Alone among the three judges, Kelly, a Republican appointed to the bench in 1991 by President George H.W. Bush, appeared to defend what the state’s lawyer defined as Utah’s “traditional child-centric vision” of marriage. 
       The other two judges had sharp questions for the state’s lawyer: Gene Schaerr, a high-profile appellate lawyer who resigned from a Washington, D.C., firm to return to his native state to defend the gay marriage ban. Schaerr opened by arguing that the Supreme Court had upheld states’ authority over marriage in its decision in June, United States v. Windsor, to strike down the federal Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), Judge Carlos Lucero, a Democrat appointed by President Bill Clinton in 1995,  pointedly disagreed. The “dispositive language” in Justice Anthony M. Kennedy’s opinion in the case was not about federalism, Lucero said, but about equal protection.
       Judge Jerome Holmes, a conservative African American appointed by President George W. Bush in 2006, asked pointed questions of both lawyers. But he seemed to presage a vote for the plaintiffs by citing the Supreme Court’s decision in 1967 to strike down laws banning interracial marriage. That law “made that mixed-race couple essentially an ‘other’ for the purposes of marriage,” Holmes told Schaerr. “Why is that any different from this situation?”
       Even before the arguments, gay marriage supporters were optimistic about winning Holmes’s vote. He was one of the two Tenth Circuit judges who back in December declined to block gay marriages in Utah while the lower court ruling invalidating the ban was on appeal.
       Schaerr’s decision to pitch the state’s defense on the interests of children led the judges into questions about the social science research on how kids fare in same-sex households. In reply, Schaerr made a telling concession that children of same-sex couples “would likely be better off if their guardians or parents were allowed to be married.” When he continued by saying the same would be true for children of polygamous marriages, Lucero abruptly cut him off. “Let’s talk about gay marriage,” Lucero said.
       The arguments in the Utah case — and arguments before the same panel in a case from Oklahoma later this week [April 17] — mark the first times marriage equality has reached a federal appeals court since the Supreme Court’s decision in Windsor. Since the Supreme Court ruling, gay marriage advocates have won an unbroken string of victories in 11 states from state and federal courts.
       Judges from diverse backgrounds and representing different generations have uniformly interpreted Windsor to undermine the state laws still on the book excluding same-sex couples from marrying. Besides Utah and Oklahoma, state bans have also been struck down by federal judges in Virginia, Texas, and Michigan. The judge in the Virginia case, Arenda Wright Allen, is an African American appointed by President Obama in 2011; the judge in the Michigan case, Bernard Friedman, was appointed by President Ronald Reagan in 1988. In his ruling, Friedman significantly rejected the social science research cited by opponents of same-sex marriage as “unreliable.”
       After Friedman’s ruling, the Detroit Free Press columnist Brian Dickerson recalled that the judge had hired a lesbian law clerk back in 1995 and had taken a grandfatherly interest in her family through her two pregnancies. As the anecdote shows, the court cases now headed toward the Supreme Court may ultimately turn on questions of law, but — despite what Reyes told the Utah plaintiffs — the cases are also unmistakably personal for the couples involved.
       Gay marriage advocates have turned public opinion around by showing Americans the true picture of gay and lesbian families. With those stories before them, judges have been turned around as well, recognizing a right unrecognized as recently as 10 years ago. The only question remaining is what the Supreme Court will do when the first cases arrive there, probably later this year.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Court Opens Door to Yet More Money in Politics

      Through more than 200 years, the Supreme Court invariably included a mix of justices who rose through legal and judicial careers and one or more justices with experience in elective politics. But when former Arizona legislator Sandra Day O’Connor retired in 2005, the court was left for the first time with no one who had ever sought elective office after their days in high school or college.
       It is no mere coincidence that O’Connor’s departure marks the court’s turning point on issues of campaign finance regulation. O’Connor co-authored along with Justice John Paul Stevens what may prove to be the court’s last decision supporting efforts by Congress and state legislators to limit the corrupting influence of uncontrolled money in politics. Her successor, Samuel A. Alito Jr., quickly joined the court’s four other Reagan-era conservatives in what is now the Roberts Court’s string of six decisions striking down federal or state laws aimed at limiting the corrupting influence of unlimited money in political campaigns.
       The Roberts Court claimed its latest victim in a decision last week striking down so-called “aggregate” contribution limits to federal candidates or national parties and political committees. The 5-4 decision in McCutcheon v. Federal Election Commission [April 2] gives any well-heeled campaign donor the right to spread millions of dollars around to congressional candidates and national, state, and local parties in any given election cycle.
       The ruling leaves in place the existing “base” limit on contributions to a single federal candidate: $5,200 per election cycle for a candidate who runs in a party primary and general election and $32,400 to a national party committee. But it wipes out the provision dating from the post-Watergate campaign finance law that established an overall limit on the donor’s contributions.
       For the current election cycle, the limit was $48,600 to candidates and $74,600 to political parties or committees — $123,200 in all. Under the new ruling, a donor theoretically could spread nearly $2.5 million around to 435 House candidates and 33 Senate candidates and perhaps another $1 million or so to party committees and political action committees (PACs).
       The decision, written by Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr., has an appealing logic, but only if one accepts an initial premise that distorts four decades of campaign finance precedents. In Roberts’ reading, those precedents allow campaign contributions to be limited only as necessary to prevent quid pro quo corruption — which he helpfully defined in court as “this for that” — or the appearance of such blatant bribery-like vote buying.
       Roberts acknowledged, at least for now, that federal law could limit the amount a donor could give to an individual candidate for Congress to prevent the corruption of that candidate. But if a donor could give that amount to nine candidates, Roberts asked, where is the harm in giving the same amount to a tenth? Or, under that logic, to a 435th?
       Way back in 1976, the Supreme Court in Buckley v. Valeo (1976) upheld the principle of aggregate contribution limits as a way to prevent circumvention of the base limits. In a passage joined by six of the eight justices to hear the case, the court said the overall ceiling on contributions was needed “to prevent evasion” of the base limit. A donor could contribute additional sums to party committees, the court reasoned then, knowing that they would funnel the money to the specific candidate.
       Roberts dismisses the passage as a single paragraph on an issue not fully briefed and then goes on to pooh-pooh the possibility of circumventing the base contribution limits so readily. The intricate arrangements needed, Roberts says, are speculative and unlikely. In addition, Roberts stresses that the Federal Election Commission (FEC) now has regulations that make it illegal for a donor to “earmark” a contribution to a party committee to benefit a specific candidate.
       Roberts blithely disregards the FEC’s permanent status of partisan gridlock — the inevitable product of the legal requirement for an equal number of Republican and Democratic appointees. Roberts cited one case in which the agency had found impermissible earmarking. In his dissent, Justice Stephen G. Breyer pointed more persuasively to eight cases in which the FEC had failed to enforce earmarking restrictions.
       More broadly, Roberts simply ignores the political reality of campaign finance: influence-buying money, like water, will find its own level.  As Breyer noted, the court in Buckley upheld contribution limits on the ground that they would help prevent “improper influence” on candidates, not merely quid pro quo corruption. And influence is what campaign donors seek to buy — and now will be able to buy in larger and larger amounts.
       The new ruling marks the second time that Roberts, an adherent to judicial restraint in his confirmation hearing in September 2005, has presided over the overruling of a campaign finance precedent to strike down a law passed and reaffirmed by Congress. Four years ago, in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission (2010), the court’s precedent-breaking decision freed corporations or labor unions to spend unlimited amounts on their own in political campaigns.
      In his dissent at the time, Stevens wryly observed that few Americans other than the court’s majority would have worried about “a dearth of corporate money in politics.” It is all the more true that few Americans want more money from well-heeled donors to flow to congressional campaigns. But that is what the Roberts Court, by a single vote, has now allowed — and most assuredly will occur.  

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Death Row Inmates Challenging Lethal Injections

       Tommy Lynn Sells, a self-confessed serial killer on Texas’s death row, wants the state to tell him about the drugs it plans to use to put him on death on Thursday [April 3]. Two lower courts moved to grant his request, but the Texas Supreme Court decided late last week [March 28] that Sells’ interest in a humane execution may be outweighed by the state’s interest in protecting the confidentiality and safety of the companies that supply lethal injection drugs.
       Sells and a second Texas death row inmate, Ramiro Hernandez, are among condemned prisoners in several states waging uphill legal fights against state authorities over the drugs planned for use in lethal injection executions. Death penalty states are in a bind because one of the drugs formerly used in lethal injections, sodium pentothal, is no longer available.
      States have scrambled for a substitute and, according to death penalty critics and lawyers for death row inmates, resorted to drugs of unproven efficacy and put up walls of secrecy to try to hide the problems. “The states are more secret than they’ve ever been,” Deborah Denno, a law professor at Fordham University in New York and a leading authority on methods of execution, remarked to The New York Times’s Adam Liptak.
       Many death penalty supporters may see the inmates’ pleas for a “safe” method of execution as yet another tactic to delay or even avoid their death sentences —and an illogical argument at that. But lethal injection became the nearly universal method of execution in the United States over the past three decades because it came to be seen as the most humane of putting the condemned inmate to death.
      Admittedly, murderers such as Sells show no such solicitude for their victims, but that failing is what distinguishes them from the rest of us. It is not too much to ask that courts make sure that lethal injections, as carried out, are the humane executions they are supposed to be.
      Lethal injections typically proceed with administration of three drugs in sequence: sodium pentothal (also known as sodium thiopental) to render the inmate unconscious; pancuronium bromide, a neuromuscular paralyzing agent, to stop the inmate from breathing; and potassium chloride to induce cardiac arrest and thus death. But sodium pentothal is no longer available because the former U.S. supplier no longer makes it and European companies refuse to provide it for executions.
       As Liptak related in his “Sidebar” column [March 11], reports of executions carried out in two states in January indicate that the substitute drugs used left the inmates conscious and in agonizing pain as the procedure continued. An Oklahoma inmate was heard to say, “I feel my whole body burning.” An Ohio inmate was described by a reporter witness to have struggled, gasped for air, and choked for 10 minutes before succumbing.
       Oklahoma is among the states refusing to tell inmates about the drugs now being used. A trial court judge ruled last week [March 26] that the law prohibiting release of that information violates inmates’ due process rights. A judge in Tennessee, ruling in January in a similar suit, ordered the state to turn over the information requested; the ruling is on appeal. In Texas, Sells had won rulings from a lower court judge and an intermediate appellate court before the state supreme court intervened on Friday to block the release pending further consideration.
       The issue reached the U.S. Supreme Court earlier this year in a plea by a Missouri death row inmate, Michael Taylor, seeking the identities of the physician, pharmacy, and laboratory who prescribed, compounded, and tested the drugs to be used for his execution. The Eighth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals on Jan. 24 flatly rejected the plea in an en banc decision, In re Lombardi. Writing in The Atlantic, legal affairs commentator Andrew Cohen aptly called the ruling “terrible” from either a First Amendment or Eighth Amendment perspective.  A month later, the Supreme Court refused on Feb. 25 to grant a stay of execution, but three justices —Ginsburg, Sotomayor, and Kagan — dissented, citing the dissenting Eighth Circuit judges. Taylor was executed later that day.
       Among the issues confronting inmates in these cases is an earlier Supreme Court decision, Baze v. Rees (2008), that rejected a challenge to lethal injection protocols brought by Kentucky inmates. States are citing Chief Justice Roberts’s plurality opinion in the case as requiring inmates that challenge an execution procedure to propose a valid procedure themselves. Lawyers for inmates argue that is an absurd requirement that would put them in an ethical conflict with their clients.
       Two more cases raising these issues are already at the Supreme Court, as Liptak noted. In Sepulvado v. Jindal, 13-892, Louisiana death row inmate Christopher Sepulvado is claiming a due process right to “timely notice of the method by which he will be executed.” Sepulvado’s plea was to be conferenced by the justices on Friday; a decision whether to hear the case could come on Monday [March 31]. A second Missouri case, Zink v. Lombardi, 13-8435, is scheduled for conference this week.
       For the most part, the Roberts Court majority has shown little sympathy for death penalty challenges. They may turn these pleas aside too, but at a cost to the public’s seeming decision that executions be carried out according to modern views of common humanity.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Supreme Court's Obsession With Secrecy

       Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia was apparently in full Scaliaesque mode when he spoke to the Georgia State Bar this month [March 14] on constitutional originalism. Scalia “ranted and ranted” that the Constitution grants no right to abortion or same-sex marriage, according to one of those in the audience. News accounts quoted Scalia as describing the idea of a “living Constitution” as “idiocy.”
       These days, many people interested in the issue might reflexively log on to You Tube to look for a video of Scalia’s remarks. But don’t bother. In accepting the speaking invitation, Scalia imposed his customary ground rule: no cameras, no tape recording. So you’ll just have to rely on the brief news coverage of the speech or on second-hand accounts like the sharp critique delivered by Eric Segall, a law professor at Georgia State University in Atlanta who helped organize the event.
       Scalia’s ground rule is one of a dozen or so Supreme Court practices that severely limit information for the public about the nation’s highest court and the nine life-tenured justices who serve on it. As Dahlia Lithwick, Supreme Court correspondent for Slate puts it, the court is “completely unknown and unknowable to 99 percent of the public.”
       Lithwick and Segall were among the participants in an hour-long indictment of the court’s obsession with secrecy held last week [March 21] at New York University’s Washington Center. The event was cosponsored by the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press and the newly organized Coalition for Court Transparency, an amalgam of press organizations and legal advocacy groups.
       The program came against the backdrop of a renewed push to get the justices to let cameras into the courtroom for Supreme Court arguments. That issue has been percolating for at least 30 years, with no sign the court is likely to change its mind. To the contrary, the only minds being changed are those of new justices, including Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan. Both were open to the idea during their confirmation hearings but have been voicing doubts since joining the court.
       The court’s obsession with secrecy, however, goes much further. As one inexplicable example, most of the justices do not announce their speaking schedules or release the text of public speeches. Justice Anthony M. Kennedy was the keynote speaker at the American Bar Association’s annual convention in August, but you won’t find the text on the Supreme Court web site under “Speeches.”
       Segall finds it similarly inexplicable that the court does not announce the votes of the justices when it decides whether to review a case from a lower court. It takes four votes to grant certiorari, but the votes in individual cases are disclosed only in the handful of cases each year when one or more of the justices issue a public dissent from the court’s refusal to take up a case.
       The justices are just as opaque in regard to recusals. None of the justices issues an explanation when he or she steps aside in a case. The public is left to guess whether the reason is some financial interest, a familial conflict, or something else. And any efforts to look for financial conflicts in the justices’ financial disclosure forms collides with the limited accessibility of the forms, which are available only in person in Washington, not on line.
       The court is somewhat proud of its web site, relaunched with various improvements a couple of years ago. But there’s not that much to brag about. Decisions are now available on line almost as soon as they are announced, and argument transcripts are posted within hours. But, despite the recent requirement for petitions and briefs to be filed electronically, these are not automatically posted on the court’s web site itself. The best sources for briefs at the Supreme Court are private entities: the ABA and the utterly invaluable SCOTUSblog.
       William Jay, a lawyer and an ex-Scalia clerk, noted one practice that only Supreme Court advocates would notice: the justices’ occasional research outside the record in the case. Jay noted that when the court outlawed the death penalty for juvenile offenders, Kennedy cited in his majority opinion data gathered after briefing and arguments were completed. The parties had no notice of the extra-record research and, obviously, no opportunity to comment.
       Of all the various issues, the question of cameras in the courtroom is easiest to raise in public. High courts in other nations allow video coverage — for example, Brazil, Canada, and the United Kingdom — with no apparent adverse effect. Justices have long warned of the risk of “showboating” by lawyers, but Sonja West, a law professor at the University of Georgia, notes that they are now raising a paternalistic fear that the public simply would not understand what was going on.
       A court answerable to the public could not get away with so many violations of transparency or such attitudes. Segall proposes a radical step to get the court’s attention. He wants Congress to refuse to fund the court until the justices improve their information practices. Congress is unlikely to go that far, so any major changes are likely to have to wait until a generation of post-Internet justices accustomed to instant transparency move into the Marble Palace at One First Street.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Time for CIA to Confess or Be Judged on Torture

       Confession may be good for the soul, but apparently not for the Central Intelligence Agency. Nearly eight years after the supposed end of the CIA’s “enhanced interrogation techniques” era, the agency is resisting coming clean about what it did. And it is blocking the Senate Intelligence Committee from releasing its own report on the now repudiated torture-like practices.
       This is the real import of the she said/he said dispute that erupted last week [March 11] between the CIA and Sen. Diane Feinstein, the California Democrat who has long been a friend of the CIA as chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee. In an astonishing 15-minute floor speech, Feinstein charged that the CIA had illegally — indeed, unconstitutionally — spied on the Intelligence Committee as it prepared what has been described as a harshly critical report.
       Brennan fired back in a matter of hours with a denial of sorts. “When the facts come out on this, I think a lot of people who are claiming that there has been this tremendous sort of spying and monitoring and hacking will be proved wrong,” he said in a passage added to a previously scheduled speech.
       Setting aside the details of this dispute for a moment, here is the most important passage from Feinstein’s speech. The Intelligence Committee’s preliminary report on the CIA’s interrogation practices, conducted by two staffers and completed shortly after Feinstein became chairman of the committee in 2009, was, in her word, “chilling.”
      “The interrogations and the conditions of confinement at the CIA detention sites were far different and far more harsh than the way the CIA had described them to us,” Feinstein declared. Put differently: the CIA lied to us, and we are the Congress of the United States.
       That preliminary report persuaded the committee to approve, on a bipartisan 14-1 vote, a full investigation of the CIA’s role in interrogation techniques that include practices long considered to be torture, such as waterboarding, sleep deprivation and prolonged stress positions. Nearly five years later, the report — described as 6,300 pages long — is still awaiting release.
      The hold-up is at the CIA, which is reviewing the report ostensibly to guard against disclosure of any legitimately classified information (think: intelligence sources and methods). But one need not be a reflexive cynic to suspect that the agency is sitting on the report for more substantive reasons.
      The further news from Feinstein’s speech is that the CIA itself came to very critical conclusions about its conduct in an internal review commissioned by Leon Panetta in 2009 when he was CIA director. As Feinstein put it, “the Internal Panetta Review had documented at least some of the very same troubling matters already uncovered by the committee staff.”
      The committee’s access to the Panetta review is at the heart of the dispute that Feinstein aired — she says reluctantly on the Senate floor. Committee staffers found the review among the mass of documents the CIA provided using search tools also provided by the agency, according to Feinstein’s account. She acknowledges that she does not know whether the review was provided intentionally by the CIA, unintentionally by the CIA, or intentionally by a whistle-blower.
      Regardless, Feinstein insists the committee staffers did nothing wrong in uncovering the Panetta review. But Robert Eatinger, then the agency’s acting general counsel, thought otherwise. He went so far as to refer the matter to the Justice Department for a possible criminal prosecution. And, it would seem, he must have authorized the search of the committee’s computers in January that drove Feinstein first to complain and then, with no apology forthcoming, to take to the Senate floor.
      Eatinger, unnamed in Feinstein’s speech but readily identified from public records, has no clean hands in this dispute. The career CIA lawyer is named more than 1,600 times, often unfavorably, in the Intelligence Committee’s still unreleased study.
      As Feinstein explained, this was not the first access dispute between the committee and the CIA. Back in 2010, the committee staff discovered that the CIA had removed various documents from those it had previously made available. When Feinstein complained, the agency said it was done at the White House’s orders. But the White House denied issuing any such direction, Feinstein said.
      In a credibility contest, anyone who knows the CIA’s history will readily decide whether Feinstein or the agency is most likely to be lying. “The CIA doesn’t do that sort of thing,” former CIA lawyer John Rizzo declared last week on WAMU’s Diane Rehm Show [March 13]. It fell to David Corn, Washington bureau chief of The Nation, to recall for listeners that the CIA indeed lied in the 1970s about Chile and in the 1980s about Iran-contra.
      For observant Catholics, confession — “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” — is the key to absolution: “Te absolvo.” Rather than confessing, the CIA is now disputing some of the conclusions in the Senate committee’s unreleased study even though, according to Feinstein, some of them “are clearly acknowledged in the CIA’s own Internal Panetta Review.”
      The time has come for this controversy to be put to rest and, as Feinstein stressed, “to ensure that an un-American, brutal program of detention and interrogation will never again be considered or permitted.” If it cannot confess, the least the CIA can do is get out of the way for the Senate to render its judgment.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Senate's Shameful Vote on Civil Rights Nominee

       John Adams expected to be criticized when he decided to represent the British soldiers accused of murder for the killings of five colonists in the Boston Massacre in 1770. But he took on their case as defense lawyer because he thought it important as a matter of justice. And he won the acquittals of all of the defendants except for two who were convicted only of the lesser offense of manslaughter.
       Three months after the end of the trial, Adams, then 35, was elected to Massachusetts’ colonial legislature, starting a career that eventually took him to the U.S. presidency. And reflecting on the Boston Massacre trial after his presidency, he described his role it as “one of the most gallant, generous, manly and disinterested Actions of my whole Life.”
       In present-day United States, a lawyer who represented a criminal defendant in a high-profile case would have no chance whatsoever later to be elected president. Indeed, to judge from last week’s shameful vote in the U.S. Senate, a lawyer with even tangential involvement in representing a high-profile defendant cannot even win confirmation to a subcabinet post in the Justice Department.
       Debo Adegbile, President Obama’s nominee to head the Justice Department’s civil rights division, went down to defeat in the Senate last week [March 5] at the hands of a solid Republican bloc and seven cowardly Democrats. The reason: Adegbile’s relatively minimal role in defending the rights of the convicted killer of a Philadelphia policeman.
      The real loser was not Adegbile, however, but a basic principle of American justice. Lawyers must be willing to take on unpopular clients if justice is to be served — and ought to be rewarded, not punished, as long as they stay within the bounds of ethical legal advocacy.
       On paper, Adegbile clearly had the qualifications for the position, including 12 years with the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, the venerable civil rights organization once headed by Thurgood Marshall. Adegbile joined the Legal Defense Fund in 2001, after seven years as an associate with New York City firms, and eventually rose to become acting president in 2012.
       Adegbile believed in and advocated any number of controversial legal positions in his tenure. He was a fervent advocate of race-based admissions policies to ensure diversity in higher education. He was also a strong defender of the federal Voting Rights Act, arguing unsuccessfully to uphold the act as written before the U.S. Supreme Court two years ago.
       Those positions earned Adegbile critics and opponents, but they were not what led to the Senate’s 47-52 vote that killed his nomination. Instead, Adegbile fell victim to his role in LDF’s work in behalf of a high-profile — many would say notorious — death row inmate: Mumia Abu-Jamal. Abu-Jamal was convicted of murder and sentenced to death in 1982 for the fatal shooting of Philadelphia police officer Daniel Faulkner after Faulkner had stopped Abu-Jamal’s younger brother for a traffic citation.
       In 30 years on death row, Abu-Jamal became a celebrated author and commentator, sharply critical of prison conditions and the criminal justice system. He also protested his innocence and challenged the conviction and sentence on various constitutional grounds. Eventually, the federal appeals court in Philadelphia threw out the death sentence in 2011 because of improper jury instructions that wrongly limited jurors’ discretion to consider mitigating circumstances; rather than seek a new death penalty hearing, prosecutors accepted the decision to reduce Abu-Jamal’s sentence to life imprisonment.
       The Legal Defense Fund had begun working on Abu-Jamal before Adegbile joined the organization. Adegbile’s sole personal involvement with the case was to contribute to an amicus brief at the Supreme Court on claims of racial discrimination in jury selection. The court in 2010 rejected those arguments, but sent the jury instruction issue back to the federal appeals court, where LDF directly represented Abu-Jamal.
       Adegbile’s limited role in the case made him persona non grata to the Fraternal Order of Police and other law enforcement groups. Adegbile defended his role in his testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee, but in the hyperpartisan atmosphere on Capitol Hill Republicans predictably joined in lock-step opposition to the nomination. With a Democratic majority, however, the committee on Feb. 6 sent the nomination to the floor on a 10-8 party-line vote.
      With the Senate’s new rules allowing a simple majority to end a filibuster, Adegbile seemed assured of confirmation. On the floor, however, seven Democrats joined Republicans in blocking an up-or-down vote. Two of the seven are from blue states: Pennsylvania’s Bob Casey and Delaware’s Chris Coons. Five others represent red states: Joe Donnolly (Ind.), Heidi Heitkamp (N.D.), Joe Manchin (W.Va.), Mark Pryor (Ark.), and John Walsh (Mont.).
       Casey, the first of the Democrats to oppose the nomination, evidently capitulated to the strong feelings in Pennsylvania about Abu-Jamal’s case, which he said had left “open wounds” in the state. Coons, who voted as a Judiciary Committee member to send the nomination to the floor, explained his decision to turn on the nomination in a tortuous statement that acknowledged Adegbile’s qualifications but worried about the “visceral opposition” he would face from law enforcement if confirmed.
       For lawyers with thoughts of public service, the lesson is clear: Steer clear of cases that can be used against you later on. Gallant service to justice may have worked for John Adams, but not today.