Does the possibility of a Senate conviction after 20th January 2021 mean that President Donald Trump will modify his behaviour for the next few days?

17th January 2021

There is a story from ancient times about a ruler who had installed above their throne a sword that, but for being suspended a single hair, would come down and kill them.

This suspended sword would be a constant reminder to that ruler – or whoever else sat on the throne – of the anxiety of ruling, and of the reality of danger.

The intention was that such a threat would ensure that any person on the throne would always be in exactly the right frame of mind for the challenges of ruling.

This sword of Damocles is now the subject of a familiar phrase – a  phrase so familiar that many will not know the backstory.

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The contemporary relevance of this fable is perhaps obvious.

President Donald Trump has been impeached, but there has not yet been a senate trial for his conviction.

Such a trial is almost certainly not to take place before 20th January 2021 – three days’ time – when this presidential term ends by automatic operation of law.

This delay is unfortunate – as if what Trump did and did not do on 6th January 2021 does not warrant impeachment and removal from office then it is difficult to conceive of what would.

But the delay is not without its advantages.

The first advantage is that it avoids the possibility of an equally swift acquittal – for it cannot  be assumed there would be sufficient support from Republican senators for conviction.

And an acquitted Trump would no doubt be emboldened and perhaps even more dangerous in these last few days of office.

And the second advantage is that the possibility of conviction now hangs over him like a sword suspended by a single hair.

A conviction – or even just a trial trial – after 20th January 2021 could still be consequential for Trump.

This is because there could also be a separate vote to disqualify him from holding office again  – thereby, at a stroke, formally removing the main claim he may have for future political significance.

There could be other votes to remove various benefits that he would have as a former president.

And, for a politician highly conscious of his place in history, he will be the first president ever convicted after impeachment.

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The better behaved Trump is before the 20th January 2021, this argument goes, the less likely such consequences will come to pass.

Alternatively, any recklessness or abuse of powers now will make the sword of a conviction and other sanctions dangle even more precariously.

Of course, this approach assumes Trump to be a rational politician (and this blog has averred previously that Trump’s behaviour can be seen as rational, if taken on its own terms).

But even if there is no rationality, and instead a simple regard of a political bully for the dynamics of political brute force and the power of leverage, the threat of a conviction may still have an effect.

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Perhaps this is wishful thinking – and that there is nothing which can be done in the last three remaining days to prevent whatever abuses and misuses of power that Trump is still capable of.

But if those abuses and misuses of power do come to pass then at least there is the constitutional consolation prize of an increased likelihood of a conviction, even if it too late to make any practical difference to this presidency. 

The sword of Damocles was both literally and metaphorically a suspended threat, intended to concentrate a ruler’s mind.

And over the next three days we shall see whether the possible conviction hanging over Trump will have a similar political effect.

 

 

Why prime ministers and ministers should read the legal texts for which they are responsible – and not leave it to summaries and advisors

16th January 2021

There are news reports that the prime minister has not read the trade and cooperation agreement with the European Union – and nor had the fisheries minister before it was agreed.

And this follows the former Brexit Secretary who once admitted he had not read the thirty-five page Good Friday Agreement – even though that document was of fundamental importance to the shape and outcome of Brexit.

https://twitter.com/EmmandJDeSouza/status/1306319236583903234

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One reaction to these admissions is to say that it is not actually necessary for ministers to read such legal texts – that ministers are usually not specialist lawyers, that such engagement could lead to misunderstandings, and that it would not be an efficient or sensible use of their limited time.

And that it is perfectly reasonable, and indeed preferable, that ministers rely on the advisers to summarise and explain these legal texts instead.

For such reasons, the argument goes, it is not fair to criticise ministers for not reading legal texts for which they are responsible or, in the case of the Good Friday Agreement, fundamental to their ministerial roles.

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Many of those who hold this view are themselves advisers or others who have briefed and summarised such legal texts for ministers and other lay people.

This blogpost avers that this view is not correct and that, for the following three reasons, any minister should be on top of the legal text for which they are responsible or is relevant to their roles, and that ministers should not rely on advisers and their summaries.

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As a preliminary point, however, there is something that this blogpost is not contending.

A minister should not just be left alone with a legal text and be expected to engage with it as an experienced and specialist lawyer.

Even ministers who happen to be lawyers may not be experienced or specialised in the relevant field.

This post is not suggesting that ministers become their own lawyers.

This post instead is putting forward the view about how ministers should approach legal texts as an active (rather than as a passive) client of their legal advisers.

How – in accordance with the old adage – advisers should advise and how ministers decide.

*

The first reason is that any intelligent and diligent lay person (that is, a person who is not a specialised lawyer in a relevant field) can engage with a legal text.

No legal text is so obscure – or sacred – that it requires a solemn priesthood of lawyers to interpret its import to the uncouth.

Although parts of some legal documents can look as impenetrable as a computer screen suddenly full of source code, all legal documents will have basic terms, for example: party [x] shall do [y] and if [y] does not happen, then [z] happens instead.

Legal instruments create rights and obligations, and they provide for consequences of those rights being exercised or of those obligations not being fulfilled, and they provide for allocations of risk of certain things happening or not happening.

This is not mysterious stuff – but the very stuff of relationships and powers and conflicts – indeed, it is the basic stuff of politics itself.

And for a minister, a legal text for which they are responsible will set out in hard form these relationships and powers, and how any conflicts are to be resolved.

A minister should therefore engage with such a text and ask their lawyers and other advisers: What does this provision mean? What is the consequence if [a] happens? What is the consequence if [b] does not happen and so on.

In response, any (genuine) expert will have no difficulty in explaining the answer in plain language – or in admitting that something may be missing.

In my experience, the best lay clients are not the ones who pretend to be lawyers – but the ones who will test their lawyers to explain any instrument or other legal text.

Often the lay client, who will usually be approaching the text in a far more practical, street-wise way than any adviser, will spot many possible imprecisions and omissions.

After all, the lay-client is the one who will have to deal with the consequences of how that instrument works in practice.

And this exercise in active engagement can only be done by direct reference to the legal text – not some summary at one or two stages removed.

Like a decent literature student who knows not to rely on York Notes, and a decent law student who knows not to rely on Nutshells, any intelligent and diligent lay client knows there is no substitute to knowing the primary materials.

And again, this is not the lay person pretending to be a lawyer, but them fulfilling their proper role as a client.

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The second reason is that is that summaries are sometimes not reliable texts, notwithstanding the best intentions and professionalism of the adviser who prepares that summary.

This is the nature of summaries: you are relying on another person to identify and set out all the key issues – and such summarisers are not infallible.

But regardless of fallibility, a summary of any legal instrument does not necessarily deal with all the questions a lay client can have when reviewing the terms of that instrument.

And this is because a legal instrument deals (or may have to deal) with dynamic situations where different parts of the instrument can be engaged at once and interact- and any summary is linear.

For example: a thing could happen which is simultaneously a breach of obligation (a), triggers remedy (b), which is subject to a limitation (c), giving rise to process (d), entitling the party not in breach to options (e), (f) and (g).

Different fairy lights can be flashing all at the same time.

No summary can ever equate to having a practical grasp of how a legal instrument works in foreseeable situations.

And this grasp is perfectly possible for an intelligent and diligent lay client – in dialogue with advisers.

This is not to say summaries are redundant – but that they are inherently limited as a means of conveying a robust understanding of any legal instrument.

(And this assumes the summariser being a professional person with relevant experience the best intentions – advisers with their own biases and interests or lack of experience can make the summaries even less of an adequate substitute.)

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The third reason is political.

The doctrine of ministerial responsibility means that it is the minister – and not the civil servant, government lawyer or other adviser – who is responsible to parliament and to the public for decisions.

This means that parliament and the public look to the minister to be the one who makes decisions.

Many ministerial decisions are necessarily made on the basis of summaries – one or two pages of a recommendation in those famous red boxes.

But when the minister is to bind the United Kingdom in an international agreement, with profound consequences for every citizen and business, that duty cannot be offloaded and outsourced to advisers.

A refusal or unwillingness to engage with the primary materials also can lead a minister to wishful-thinking or even denialism – that such-and-such will not really lead to a trade barrier in the Irish Sea and so on.

Such evasions are far less possible when you see things in their black-and-white typed form, and you have had explained to you what the meaning and consequences are of that black-and-white typed form.

There is also, of course, the natural tendency of people with power to rely on others only then to blame them when things go wrong.

Decisions in respect of the United Kingdom’s obligations are not for advisers and officials to make – ministers have to form their own view, for it is that view for which ministers are responsible.

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A minister – even a prime minister – is just as capable as any intelligent and diligent lay client as engaging directly with a legal instrument, and in forming their own understanding of that instrument.

Summaries and reliance on advisors are not substitutes for knowing your way round the primary materials.

And given the doctrine of ministerial responsibility, and the immense importance of many legal international agreements, ministers have a special responsibility to properly understand what they are signing us up to.

Advisers advise, and ministers decide – but some ministerial decisions require far more than reliance on advisers.

*****

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The reluctance of the Home Office to deny publicly that it is reconsidering the restoration of the death penalty – an example of government-media relations

15th January 2021

On 25th December 2020, of all days, the following was tweeted:

There are three immediate things to observe about this tweet.

First, the content.

This is a sensational claim but it is one which, for some people, would seem plausible.

The home secretary is a past supporter of the death penalty and the home secretary is also known as being willing to use home office policy on ‘law and order’ in a politicised way.

And elsewhere the United States has resumed federal executions in the run-up to a presidential election, and the similarly populist government of Turkey has signalled that it would want to reintroduce capital punishment.

Second, the provenance.

The account is anonymous but it does have a reasonably sized following, including followers from many areas of law and the media.

The account does not link to a site for the organisation named, and nor does a Google search indicate that the organisation has any existence beyond that twitter account.

We therefore do not know who the “us” is in the tweet and how much credibility their claim should have.

As such the claim cannot and should not be accepted without corroboration.

(This is not to diss the named organisation and what they campaign for, but is just a normal exercise in fact-checking.)

Third, the circulation of thee tweet.

As of today, the tweet has had an extraordinarily wide circulation.

It has had around 1,800 retweets and 1,900 quote-tweets – often from accounts that have accepted the claim in the tweet to be true or at least plausible.

This means a considerable number of people will now believe that the claim is correct or at least has some substance to it: that the home secretary has asked civil servants at the home office to scope a policy paper on the restoration of the death penalty.

(I do not have access to the tweet’s analytics, but in my experience, such a widely circulated tweet would have been seen by over one hundred thousand and possibly up to a million other twitter users – for that is the multiplying effect of thousands of retweets and quote-tweets.)

At this stage, now click on and read this magnificent post by Matthew Scott on the legal and practical difficulties of such a restoration of the death penalty, including the range of international legal instruments that prohibit such a restoration by the United Kingdom.

In essence: the United Kingdom could, in principle, restore the death penalty – it is a sovereign nation – but it would be in breach of many international agreements if it did so.

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So either the claim is true – which would be important for us to know – or it is untrue – and, in view of the extraordinarily wide circulation of the tweet, it would be also important for the false claim to be publicly corrected.

(In saying that the claim may be untrue, this again is not to diss the account that tweeted – they may be only as good as their source, and it is possible they heard this from a‘little bird’ in good faith.)

I happen to be in the process of preparing and writing a few things at different titles (and here on this blog) that touch on populism and the use (and misuse and abuse) of law.

I had seen the tweet several times in quote tweets, and so my first step was to find out whether there was any other relevant information in the public domain.

https://twitter.com/davidallengreen/status/1349722281501724673

 

There was none.

And so it seemed that the claim should be put to the home office to ascertain whether it was true.

https://twitter.com/davidallengreen/status/1349725293611606018

My email query was:

“There is a widely circulated assertion that the Home Secretary has asked Civil Service to scope a policy paper on the restoration of the death penalty – source: https://twitter.com/BameFor/status/1342495556732649478 

Can I please have a Home Office statement on this? Normally, and view of UK’s international obligations, one would expect a straight denial, without equivocation.”

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At this stage, I expected to just get an email containing either a bland denial that the claim was untrue or perhaps an equally bland if evasive statement about not commenting on tweets.

What happened instead was a telephone call where I was told that the claim was ‘rubbish’.

Now ‘rubbish’ is one of those press officer words – like ‘nonsense’ and ‘ridiculous’ – that is used instead of a straight denial such as ‘incorrect’.

And any telephone call from a press office is rarely about providing information (that is what emails are for), it is about the press office trying to obtain information about what is to be published and then attempting to shape what is published – and not published.

It was quickly plain that the home office did not want anything published on this at all, notwithstanding the wide circulation of the original tweet.

So I asked for a statement in writing (I never take quotes over the telephone, especially not from government press offices).

The press office’s response to this request was to question its journalistic value (although one would think that a journalist is in a better place than a press office than to make that assessment).

Given the significance and the circulation of the original claim, it seemed to me that there should be a home office statement on the record.

Indeed, you would expect that the home office would be proud and open in stating that the United Kingdom was complying with its international obligations.

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Later yesterday afternoon a statement was emailed:

“This is a completely untrue and unsubstantiated claim from an unverified Twitter account. We are surprised that despite telling [you] this, [you] are still insisting on reporting it.”

The references ‘[you]’ in the statement is to the title they assumed would publish the statement.

The statement is worth unpacking.

The explicit reference to ‘despite telling [you] this’ placed beyond doubt that the telephone conversation was not ‘background’ – the public statement only makes sense if the previous conversation was also on the record.

The ‘completely’ and ‘unsubstantiated’ are both examples of over-emphasis – if the claim is untrue, then that is all that needs to be said.

(Like a politician who says ‘absolutely clear’ instead of ‘clear’, such additional words indicate potential evasion and misdirection.)

The denial is limited to the content and detail of the tweet – there is no general statement such as ‘the home office will not be restoring capital punishment’ and still less ‘the home office is proud to respect and comply with the international obligations of the United Kingdom’

Instead of such statements, there is an explicit attack on the credibility of the source and an implicit attack on the journalistic point of even putting this claim to the home office.

The ‘insisting’ is a perfect touch – and yes, one should insist that the home office should publicly state its position on restoring capital punishment when there is widely circulated claim that such restoration is being considered.

The home office wanted the statement to either be unusable or, if published, to discredit the news title publishing the story.

(I am happy to publish the public statement here, with the appropriate context set out.)

All this, instead of a simple statement that the claim was untrue and a statement that the home office is not seeking to reintroduce capital punishment and the United kingdom will comply with its international obligations.

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There is nothing special about what happened here – this is what happens every day between government press offices and anyone in the media seeking to obtain information which the government does not want to publish.

The only difference is that I am in a position to set out the exchange on this blog.

It is a good thing that, despite their initial reluctance, the home office was able to publicly confirm that a widely circulated claim that restoration of the death penalty was “completely untrue and unsubstantiated”.

It is disappointing that the home office sought to do this with a quote intended to deter the use of the quote and thereby prevent any coverage of that denial.

And it is disappointing, but not surprising, that despite the public interest in such a widely circulated claim being openly denied, the home office insisted on going about it in this way instead.

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The significance of the second impeachment of President Donald Trump is not that so many were in favour but how many were against

14th January 2021

Yesterday the president of the United States was impeached.

That is a sentence that should be neither typed nor read very often, as an impeachment is – and should be – an extraordinary thing.

The power of impeachment exists in a constitution when ordinary political processes are unable to address a particular problem.

This is only the fourth impeachment in the history of the United States, though the second time it has happened to President Donald Trump.

Any impeachment is extraordinary and rare – but what, if any, significance did yesterday’s vote of the house of representatives have?

Did the vote signify either the start or the finish of some thing?

Or was it more an illustration of something already in existence and not likely to go away soon?

Or does it not have any real significance or even illustrative value – and so was just another extraordinary political event to join the clutter of other extraordinary political events of the last four or five years?

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An impeachment vote, of course, is only one step in the constitutional process of removing a president.

There still needs to be a trial before the senate, and the senate will then either convict or acquit.

A conviction would, of course, be significant.

It would be the first conviction of a president, the previous three impeachments each having ended with an acquittal.

And if the conviction happened before the end of this presidential term then it would also be the first removal of a siting president.

Such an outcome would have a profound significance, being the first and only example in the history of the United States of the constitution being exerted so as to expel the holder of the presidential office.

A conviction by the senate would be the first time the deeper magic of the constitution has been used to crack the stone table of the presidency.

But.

For such an outcome there are two further conditions: (1) the senate has to vote to convict and (2) that vote has to happen in the next six days.

Both of these conditions are capable of being fulfilled, but both currently seem unlikely.

Of course, a senate that recently was able to confirm the appointment of a supreme court judge at speed should be able to deal just as urgently with an impeachment trial.

The indications, however, are that the senate will not commence any trial until 19th January 2021, and that would mean any trial would go beyond the inauguration of the new president, Joseph Biden.

And, unless the senate is back in session sooner than the 19th January 2021, the significance of yesterday’s vote will not be that it lead to the removal of a sitting president.

The stone table of the presidency will remain uncracked. 

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But what of a conviction after Trump leaves office?

That could still happen even though his term of office would be unaffected.

Such a conviction would (or could) result in Trump’s disqualification from holding and enjoying ‘any Office of honor, Trust or Profit under the United States’.

And this would have the practical consequence of preventing Trump from being elected ever again as president.

(Though similar outcome could be achieved perhaps by a formal holding of some kind – legislative or judicial – that Trump had engaged in insurrection and was thereby barred under section 3 of the fourteenth amendment.)

Such a conviction would be significant – as it would show that constitutionalism still prevailed over the abuse of presidential power.

It would signify that what Trump did (and did not) do on 6th January 2021 was constitutionally unacceptable, and that there should be serious consequences of that constitutionally unacceptable conduct.

But even this profound outcome still depends on a conviction after a senate trial.

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For both the possibilities set out above, the significance of the impeachment vote is that it has started a process that may, or may not, have a profound outcome.

But what was the significance, if any, of the impeachment vote in and of itself?

What was certainly notable about the vote was that it demonstrated both Democratic unity and Republican division.

Most of the speeches of those on favour of impeachment, and the statements of the ten Republican representatives who voted in favour, matched the gravity of what happened on 6th January 2021.

And that the vote was bipartisan – so bipartisan that Republican support reached double-figures – showed that the president’s misconduct was so serious that it transcended normal partisanship.

This signifies that Trump’s unconstitutional behaviour no longer has the solid support of the Republican party bloc.

But.

At least as significant, if not far more so, was that so many Republican congressmen and congresswomen were steadfast in opposing impeachment, despite the events of last week.

The impression one formed watching the speeches of Republican representatives was that there was nothing – nothing at all – that Trump could do that would be so wrong that it would lead to his impeachment.

That whatever Trump did or not do would always be beyond the reach of constitutional mechanisms.

That when Trump and constitutionalism conflicted, then Trump would prevail.

A number of Republicans expressly dismissed the impeachment as merely an exercise of Democrat partisanship.   

And by doing so, they flipped from partisanship within a constitutional framework to the hyper-partisanship which disregards and denies the primacy of constitutional norms.

This means that rather than the vote signifying either the beginning of a process or the end of a presidency (or of a political career) it was more of a stark illustration of an ongoing problem.

The problem of hyper-partisanship, which is as much a threat to constitutionalism as the storming of the Capitol. 

This hyper-partisanship is, in turn, in the service of populist authoritarian nationalism – the very politics that is perhaps most in need of being constrained by constitutional norms.

And so the ultimate significance of yesterday’s vote to impeach the president may therefore be not so much that there was bipartisan support, but that there were so many in opposition and on what basis.

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Why constitutionalism should be stronger than Trumpism, other populism, and even majoritarianism

13th January 2021

President Donald Trump has never won a national vote.

In 2016 he had about three million fewer votes than Hillary Clinton, and in 2020 he had about seven million fewer votes than Joseph Biden.

What he was able to do in 2016, however, was to win a vote sufficient so as to obtain the majority of the electoral college – and, but for the geographic distribution of the votes in 2020, it is feasible he could have won the electoral college in 2020.

Trump, therefore, is not in this way a majoritarian – his democratic legitimacy does not rest on having obtained a majority of the democratic vote.

His democratic legitimacy rests instead on a device – the electoral college – that is provided for under the constitution of the United States.

And what the constitution of the United States giveth, the constitution can taketh away.

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The removal of an elected head of government should never be done lightly or easily.

But in any constitutional system there will always be the means by which they can be removed, other than at an election.

Ideally, of course, if the complaint about a government is essentially about its politics or policies, then it should always be a matter for an election.

That is what elections are for.

But there are circumstances other than a dispute about politics or policy merits where the removal of a government, or of a head of government, is appropriate between elections.

And in the United States, the constitution expressly provides two mechanisms for the displacement of a sitting president.

One is the the twenty-fifth amendment where, for whatever reason, the sitting president is incapable of exercising their role.

The other is the impeachment and then conviction of a president for high crimes and misdemeanours.

And theses two mechanisms are, in the case of President Trump and any other president, just as ‘constitutional’ than the electoral college that enabled Trump to become president in the first place.

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The house of representatives seems certain, at the time of writing, to vote to impeach President Trump in respect of the violent attack on Congress on 6th January 2021.

President Trump is now thereby destined be the quiz answer to the question: which president was impeached twice?

He will also be the president who was the subject of attempts to use both methods of removal – the twenty-fifth amendment and impeachment, – which also must be some sort of record.

As at the typing of this blogpost, it cannot be predicted whether the senate will vote to convict President Trump.

(Of course, whatever happens, the outcome of that vote will then seem as having been inevitable all along.)

But in one limited way, it does not matter whether there is a conviction – the very fact there will be an impeachment is a reminder that, regardless of Trump’s ability to mobilise millions to vote or to incite hundreds (if not thousands) into political violence, there is something stronger than his populism.

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The priority for constitutionalism should be true even if there was not such a thing as an electoral college and if President Trump had actually won a majority of the popular vote.

For just as constitutionalism should be stronger than populism, it also should be stronger than majoritarianism.

Being able to obtain a vote of [x] + 1 does not, and should not, confer immunity from removal from office whatever the winning candidate or party seeks to do between elections.

Such a majority vote would confer political legitimacy – but that is what it is: political.

Such political legitimacy does not translate to absolute protection against the consequences of wrongs that go further than political or policy disputes.

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Given the events of 6th January 2021, and the role of President Trump in those events, it is difficult to see why he should not be impeached and convicted.

This is the sort of situation that the power of impeachment is there for.

And there are signals (if nothing more) that a sufficient number of Republican senators may be in favour of conviction.

But even if such a vote for conviction does not come to pass, constitutionalism has not gone away.

The senate may or may not vote to convict.

The fact there is such a vote means that constitutionalism – still – is stronger than Trump and his nationalist authoritarian populism.

The challenge is now to keep it this way – for although constitutionalism has not gone away, neither will Trumpism.

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The violent events of 6th January 2021 should be a turning-point, but what if history fails to turn?

12th January 2021

 

Writing of the effects (and lack of effects) of the 1848 ‘revolution’ in Germany, the historian A. J. P. Taylor once wrote:

‘German history reached its turning-point and failed to turn.’

Identifying a moment in time as a potential turning-point is one thing, but it is quite another for it to actually be a turning-point.

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Take, for example, seven days before the 2016 referendum when the British member of parliament Jo Cox was murdered by a person shouting ‘Britain First’.

That incident which took place at the most unpleasant moment of the referendum campaign – the ‘swamped’ poster was about the same time – felt as if it should have been a turning-point. 

That the passions and indeed frenzy unleashed by the referendum campaign were out of control, that things had gone too far.

But it was not a turning-point – the referendum campaign quickly resumed – and the murder had no obvious impact.

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The events in the United States of 6th January 2021 also seem to be a potential turning-point.

In what this blog and others aver was an attempted coup, and what was an insurrection on any view, there was a violent attempt to disrupt an essential constitutional step in the peaceful transfer of power, at the behest of (or at least in the interests of) a defeated politician.

Five people died.

There is currently an attempt, in the last few days of the current presidency to impeach that defeated candidate, President Donald Trump.

At the moment it looks unlikely that the impeachment will result in a conviction in the Senate and that Trump will be removed from office before 20th January 2021, when the presidential term ends by automatic operation of law.

One view is that the events of 6th January 2021 will shock Republican politicians and political supporters of Trump.

That the passions and indeed frenzy unleashed by his attempt to discredit the election result and to hold on to power were out of control, that things had gone too far.

Surely something will be done in response to what happened, in what Der Spiegel regards as a putsch (with Trump as Putschistenführer).

 *

But even if something decisive happens in respect of Trump personally – either that he is impeached or discredited as an individual – this does not directly address the ongoing challenge of Trumpism.

Even after everything in the last four years, 74 million Americans still voted for him to be president.

Indeed, even after the visible manifestation of Trumpism on 6th January 2021, there still seems to be substantial political support for this nationalist authoritarian populism. 

It may not be going away.

*

Contemporaries are often not in a good position to tell whether some dramatic political event is either the end of something, or the start of something, or just an illustration of something.

The quotes in this tweet should be read carefully and in full.

In 1923 many thought that the attempted putsch of the war hero Ludendorff (then a more famous figure than the nationalist authoritarian populist leader who accompanied and then succeeded him) could be dismissed as some delayed after-effect of the great war.

And indeed Ludendorff was to a large extent personally discredited, but the cause for what he stood for certainly was not extinguished, and it was to take power within a decade.

An attempted coup, an insurrection, a putsch – all can be as much a start of something than an end of something.

*

It is easy to warn ‘we should not be complacent’.

(After all, nobody ever says ‘let us be complacent’.)

But liberals and progressives should be careful not to assume that the dramatic violence of 6th January 2021 will convert into some ongoing impediment to Trumpism – even if it converts into an impediment to Trump himself.

Trumpism should be taken just as seriously as a threat to liberal democracy and constitutionalism after 6th January 2021 than before.

The attempted coup, the insurrection, the putsch has not, at a stroke, discredited Trumpism – even if Trump (like Ludendorff) may no longer be the leader of the movement.

All because a tragic event should bring people to their senses, it just as often does not do so.

Sometimes things do meet what should be their turning-point, but things fail to turn.

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Can a presidential pardon be revoked?

11th January 2021

As we enter the last ten days of this presidential term one of the matters being widely discussed is the extent and nature of presidential pardons generally, and the possibility of a ‘self-pardon’ in particular. 

This blog has already looked at the general issue – and on the self-pardon issue in particular, it seems to me to be a logical and legal absurdity.

But this post is about a related issue, which has not yet featured prominently in the debate about pardons: regardless of whether any power to pardon, can a pardon be revoked?

Would it be open to an incoming president to revoke the pardons of President Trump, including any (purported) self-pardon?

*

From first principles, and from a United Kingdom perspective, such a revocation would seem possible.

The power to pardon is, in the United Kingdom, part of the royal prerogative.

And just as no parliament can bind another, it would appear no sovereign can do so either.

The crown can make – and unmake – any treaty whatsoever.

The crown can bestow honours, which in turn can be ‘cancelled and annulled’ by the crown.

And so if these exercises of the royal prerogative are analogous, then it would appear that the sovereign could rescind a pardon – for example if it were wrongly made.

*

Turning to the United States, there are two examples of revoked presidential pardons.

In 1869, we are told by the Congressional Research Service, ‘after outgoing President Andrew Johnson issued but did not deliver a pardon, incoming President Ulysses S. Grant revoked the pardon, and a federal court upheld the revocation’.

The case report is here, where you will see that the judge stated in passing:

The law undoubtedly is, that when a pardon is complete, there is no power to revoke it, any more than there is power to revoke any other completed act.’

More recently, in 2008 President George W. Bush revoked a pardon he had himself granted, because of an outcry.

The New York Times then reported ‘when Mr. Bush granted Isaac Toussie, 37, a pardon earlier this week, the president and his advisers were unaware that the elder Mr. Toussie had recently donated $30,800 to Republicans. Mr. Bush took the extraordinary step of rescinding the pardon on Wednesday after reports about the political contributions.’

Again, the pardon had not been delivered.

*

In both of these precedents the revocation was possible because it had not been completed – the procedural equivalent of dashing to the post room to intercept a letter before it is actually sent out.

Neither of these precedents therefore are directly on the point of whether a pardon, once completed, can be revoked.

The opinion of the judge in 1869 is not binding for, among other things, that was not the issue which the court was being asked to determine.

*

So how would a modern court approach the issue?

In most circumstances, the effect of a pardon would be immediate: a person would be released from their sentence and so on.

And once that person has been relieved from their punishment, then any revocation would raise practical and other issues as to what would happen to the pardoned person.

One can see why it would be unfair that such a pardon was revoked, just as no person should not be punished twice for the same offence.

But what about a (blanket) pardon that is intended to pre-empt any possible prosecution?

Procedurally, the person who (purportedly) received the pardon would (presumably) raise the pardon as a bar to any proceedings.

The court would then (again presumably) examine the (purported) pardon (as in 1869), and if the pardon was valid then there would be would be a bar on the prosecution.

It would be – almost literally – a ‘get out of jail free’ card, which the person would raise in front of a judge.

(Of course, if it were known that a pardon had been given then a prosecution would normally not be brought in the first place – but, if it were brought, this is procedurally how a pardon would act as a bar on any prosecution.)

So, now imagine two fascinating possibilities.

First, imagine a court not accepting such a presented pardon at face value – and applying anxious scrutiny whether such a pardon (even if correct in form) had been within the powers of the president.

And second, imagine a court presented with two formal instruments – one purporting to grant a pardon, and another purporting to rescind it (like the cancellation and annulment of an honour, which reverses an otherwise completed act).

The first of these (delicious) legal puzzles would not be a revocation, of course, but an inquiry as to the legality of an instrument.

The second possibility, however, would require a court to review the possibility of a revocation of a pardon.

We would then see whether the 1869 dictum was a correct statement of the law.

*

The straight answer to the question at the head of the post is, as always with interesting legal questions, ‘we do not know’.

An approach from first principles points (at least for me) in one direction, but the precedent of 1869 (although it is not binding) points firmly in the other direction.

But given the lack of binding authority, it cannot be assumed casually that if a pardon – or self-pardon – is granted by President Trump that it is absolutely beyond the reach of revocation.

We may still get more constitutional excitement from the Trump presidency.

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Why the campaign to ‘rejoin’ the European Union is misconceived – the campaign must make a positive and sustainable case for membership, regardless of Brexit and the past

10th January 2021

For many who were ‘Remainers’ the obvious next step is to become ‘Rejoiners’ with the object of ‘reversing Brexit’.

And in pursuing this object they will understandably point to the many misfortunes and problems that have been – and will be – caused by Brexit.

The hope, if not expectation, seems to be that the sheer accumulation of adverse evidence will mean that a sufficient people will see ‘what we have lost’ and this will lead to political pressure for the United Kingdom to quickly rejoin the European Union.

This approach may work – one lesson from the last five years is just how quickly politics can change, and in any direction.

But.

For the following three reasons, this blog submits that such an approach is misconceived and avers that a different approach should be adopted by those who want the United Kingdom to be a successful applicant for membership of the European Union.

*

The first reason is that the emphasis on the ‘re-‘ in ‘rejoining’ – especially if that is based on relying on the adverse consequences of departure – is not a positive case for membership.

There needs to be more than the simple application of the pleasure-pain principle.

One feature of the United Kingdom’s membership of the European Union was that since at least the completion of the single market in 1992 there was never a positive case made for membership in frontline politics.

Instead, the two biggest political parties competed with each other as to which was the one that secured the more opt-outs, whether it be the Euro, the social chapter, free movement of peoples, justice and home affairs, or so on.

The case, if any, for the United Kingdom’s membership of the European Union was that it was ‘less bad’ than any alternative.

This scepticism and often outright hostility was also a feature of much of the news reporting of the same period – and such was the lack of popular understanding of the role and nature of the European Union that it was easily made to blame for things for which it was not responsible.

And after twenty-five or so years of such negativity, it was perhaps more surprising that the 2016 referendum was so close than that the remain side lost.

It was not so much that the leave side won the 2016 referendum that the remain side lost.

This mistake should not be repeated.

The case for European Union should be a positive one – and that means that it should be a case based on the advantages that membership of the European Union will have for the United Kingdom.

What would be the benefits of membership of the European Union, which could not be attained in any other way?

For, as this blog was previously contended, those in favour of membership have a challenge.

Can you, for example, make out the case for the United Kingdom joining the European Union without reference to the fact that the United Kingdom was a member?

If a compelling case cannot be made for the United Kingdom in the here-and-now to become a member of the European Union then it is difficult, if not impossible. to see how sufficient political support can be achieved for a viable application for membership.

*

The second reason is the United Kingdom is highly unlikely be able to ‘rejoin’ quickly.

The notion that somehow the European Union will gladly accept a United Kingdom quickly bouncing back and pretending nothing had changed is a fantasy.

Indeed, it is just a new variant form of British (or English) exceptionalism.

The new trade and cooperation agreement is structured for the medium to longer-term.

As I set out in this new Financial Times video, the agreement is a ‘broad…framework’ for discrete supplementary agreements over time, with any more significant shifts (either in the the direction of closeness or otherwise) being on a five-year review cycle.

 

And this accords with the five-year cycle on which the European Union conducts its own business.

We can no longer snap our fingers and demand immediate attention, loudly and in English.

The United Kingdom is now on the outside, looking in.

And as this blog has previously averred, the European Union will understandably want to take time to see if the internal politics of the United Kingdom have settled down in favour of membership of the European Union.

The European Union will not want to let the United Kingdom back in only to have to devote time and effort in dealing with another Brexit, like some geo-political Groundhog Day.

The European Union will also want to see what happens to the United Kingdom itself over the next few years: Irish unification? Scottish (or even Welsh) independence?

What will be the situation of the European Union and of the world in 2026? 2031? 

Therefore there not only needs to be a positive case for United Kingdom membership of the European Union, it has to be a sustainable case too.

*

The third reason is that an emphasis on ‘rejoin’ and ‘reversing Brexit’ carries a real risk of campaigners eternally refighting the 2016 referendum.

Like some historical re-enactment society, but for the battle of Brexit rather than the battle of Naseby.

Of course, remainers are right to have grievances about the circumstances of the referendum and the conduct of the campaign(s) for leave.

Remainers also are right to complain about the process (or lack of process) that followed the referendum and which has resulted in the United Kingdom ceasing first to be a member of the European Union and then having the protection of the transition arrangements.

Nothing in this post should be taken to mean that that the politicians who have made serious misjudgments about law and policy should not be held to account – indeed that is one purpose of this blog.

But pointing out problems and failings, either now or back in 2016, is not going to lead to the United Kingdom becoming (again) a member of the European Union.

This is not only because it is difficult to get a sufficient number of voters engaged, and that government supporters and Brexiters are so deft at evasion and misdirection.

It is because there is a fundamental disconnect between problem and solution.

Whether the United Kingdom becomes (again) a member of the European Union in 2026 – or whenever – will not be a logical consequence of redressing the wrongs and of 2016 or even those emerging in 2021.

Membership of the European Union may be a prize, but it will not be a consolation prize.

*

The task ahead for those in favour of the United Kingdom (again) becoming a member of the European Union is immense.

A positive case has to be made over time so that the European Union will seriously consider a fresh application.

But that is not an impossible task.

And at least, unlike the supposedly ‘pro-European’ politicians of the last thirty or forty years, this will be a positive case.

One problem with the politics of the United Kingdom in recent decades is that the positive case for membership of the European Union was rarely made.

Now is the opportunity for that to be put right.

*****

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Impeachment exists for a reason – the arguments for and against the second impeachment of Donald Trump

9th January 2021

‘Impeachment’ and ‘indictment’ are sister words, sharing the suffix ‘-ment’, and they describe two ways by which a person can be tried and then either convicted or acquitted.

One practical difference (at least in modern times) between the two is that impeachment is usually a political process, while a trial on indictment is a matter of criminal law.

And one effect of this distinction is that if a sitting president of the United States is immune from prosecution in the criminal courts, there is always the alternative route of impeachment.

*

There are only eleven days before this presidential term ends, by automatic operation of law, on 20th January 2021.

The electoral college vote has been certified by congress and so there is no constitutional impediment (as far as this English lawyer is aware) to Joseph Biden becoming president on that day.

The question is whether Donald Trump should continue to be president in the meantime, given what he did and what happened on 6th January 2021.

As eleven days is such a short period, there is merit in the view that we should just wait it out – especially as he no longer has access to his Twitter platform (and the implications of such a ban was discussed on this blog yesterday) and the speaker of the house of representatives has has assurances on the president’s access to the nuclear codes.

And there is something also to be said that it would still be wrong, even now, to in effect override the result of the 2016 election – there was a democratic process and Trump as president was the result at the end of it.

*

But.

Impeachment exists in the United States constitution for a reason.

And if a president inciting a mob to invade Congress so as to disrupt the certification of the electoral college vote (in what this blog avers was an attempted coup) does not fulfil the requirement of a high crime and misdemeanour, then it is difficult to imagine what else would do so.

Even with only eleven days to go, such an extraordinary event should not go unmarked and shrugged-off.

Impeachment and conviction can also disqualify Trump from holding office again.

(And so, in respect of the presidency, such disqualification would place Trump in the same position as if he had not been born in the United States.)

On this basis there is a strong – if not compelling – case that Trump should be impeached and convicted – both in terms of what has happened and of the future.

*

Yet.

You do not sustainably solve a problem caused by hyper-partisanship with more partisanship.

And so any impeachment and conviction should ideally be on a genuinely non-partisan basis – and not just the Democratic bloc with a few Republicans.

Here the United States constitution is helpful – as a conviction by the senate has to be with the ‘concurrence of two thirds of the members present’.

Therefore there would have to be a substantial number of Republican senators in favour – but even if there were sixteen or so such Republican senators, it would still savour of partisanship, unless the Republican congressional leadership were also in favour of conviction.

This is not to say that there should not be an impeachment and conviction if enough Republican senators are in favour – sometimes you just have to do the right thing anyway – but a warning that such an exercise will not be the once-and-for-all end of the problem of Trump and Trumpism.

But, then again, there may not be any solution to that problem.

*

There is another way that could be employed to displace Trump.

The twenty-fifth amendment provides an elaborate mechanism by which the vice president and members of the cabinet can declare that the president is unable to discharge the powers and duties of the office.

In these circumstances the vice president will become the acting president.

This approach has the attraction of being inherently non-partisan – as those making the decision are Republican politicians – and also the attraction of pragmatism – as it deftly yanks Trump away from exercising the powers of the president.

The problem, however, is that it is not – at least not directly – a mark against the encouragement of the attempted coup, and nor does it disqualify him from future office.

(Or Trump could – like Nixon – just resign in an attempt to pre-empt any of the above – but it is hard to imagine Trump bringing himself to sign that piece of paper.)

*

Of course, whatever does happen will then look as if it were inevitable all along.

But whether or not Trump is impeached and convicted, there will still be two truths.

First, impeachment is there for a reason.

And second, what the president did on 6th January is such a reason.

*****

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Trump’s social media ban in perspective – the unpalatable difficulties of regulating political and media activity in the internet age

8th January 2021

Once upon a time, and not so long ago, mass political parties and national media organisations were themselves novelties.

Both were responses to the emergence of popular democracy and widespread literacy in the late 1800s.

Political parties and media organisations (for example, ‘Fleet Street’) were ways by which the relationships were mediated between the elite and the governed.

The means of political organisation and of publication – and, later, of broadcasting –  were in the hands of the few.

Indeed, until the 1990s, it was difficult (if not impossible) for any person to publish or broadcast to the world, without going through the ‘gatekeepers’ of a national newspaper, or a publishing house, or a national broadcaster.

Similarly, it would be difficult (if not impossible) for any person or group of people to obtain significant political influence – at least in the United Kingdom as a whole – without going through a national political party.

So – although both politics and the media on a national level had opened up to the population as whole – the ultimate means of political and media control were still quite centralised.

Top-bottom, command-and-control.

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And when power is concentrated it is easier to regulate.

So, just as modern political parties and media organisations emerged at the end of the 1800s, so did the regulation both of political parties and of the media.

Back in October 2019 I set out at Prospect why the electoral law of the United Kingdom that was developed in different circumstances was no longer fit for purpose.

Similar points can be made about media law: for example, there is no real point tightly regulating certain news titles or national broadcasters when the same content can be circulated – often even more widely – on social media platforms by those outside such creaking regulatory regimes.

*

If traditional political parties and media organisations did not already exist as hangovers from the time before modern technology and communications, they probably would not now be invented, at least in a recognisable form.

And that therefore must follow for how political and media activities are regulated.

Just as traditional political parties and media organisations were once novel responses to new social and economic conditions, we need to think afresh about the nature of political and media power and about the extent, if at all, it can be regulated.

For now anyone with an internet connection and access to certain platforms can publish and broadcast to the world, or can seek and obtain significant political influence or power.

*

To ‘regulate’ a thing is to make it possible that the thing would have a different outcome, but for the regulation.

If a regulation can have no effect, then the thing supposedly being regulated carries on regardless, and the regulation is a polite fiction. 

Futility is the enemy of sound regulation.

*

And now we come to President Donald Trump and his recent temporary ban from Twitter and his indefinite ban from Facebook.

Neither Twitter nor Facebook are traditional media organisations – indeed both were formed within the lifetime of anyone reading this post.

But they are not only media organisations – they have also taken on some of the functions of traditional political parties – as the practical means of political organisation, mobilisation and sharing of information.

This is not to say that the social media platforms are beyond the law – they are (in theory) subject to terms and conditions, laws on equality and non-discrimination, laws on data protection and intellectual property, and so on.

It may be that these general laws are not enforced, or perhaps not enforceable – but there are laws which apply.

The issue is that those laws are general laws and not specific legal regimes covering media and political activity.

And so what we have are platforms of immense media and political power – and without any specific media and political regulation.

They are, in effect, private organisations – and (subject to general laws) are entitled to suspend and terminate, or to enable, the accounts of any politician.

They can even suspend the social media account of (arguably) the most powerful politician in the world.

And they have done so.

*

For many, the way to deal with the political and media power of social media platforms is easy.

Regulate!

Something must be done, and so something will be done, and that something that will be done will be to ‘Regulate!’

But asserting that a thing should be regulated is not the same as it being capable of regulation.

One may want the tides of the sea or the weather to be different, but it does not follow that they can be made any different.

So it may be that although social media platforms – huge private corporations – have immense political and media power, it does not follow that they can be easily regulated, or regulated in any meaningful way at all.

And even if regulation was possible, it is almost certain that it cannot be on the same basis of the top-down, command-and-control regulation of political and media activity that we have inherited from previous times.

For example, social media platforms have millions of publishers and broadcasters, not just a handful.

There are no elaborate steps before publication and broadcast as with a Fleet Street title or established book publisher.

They are no limits on how much political propaganda can be published and to whom it can be circulated.

If any of this can be ‘regulated’ then it almost certainty will not be by tweaking old pre-internet regulatory models – and this is because the things being regulated are of a fundamentally different nature.

And – and this will be very hard to accept for those who believe every real-world problem has a neat legal solution – it may be that social media activity can no more be regulated meaningfully than conversations in the street or in the town square.

That the age of specific regulations for media and political activity are over, and all we are now left with are general laws.

Many will not be comfortable with this – and will insist that ‘something must be done’.

Yet futility is the enemy of sound regulation.

*

Perhaps something should have been done in respect of President Donald Trump’s unpleasant, dishonest, reckless and dangerous use of his social media account before this week.

And what has now been done is too little, too late.

Others would say that silencing an elected politician’s means of communication should not be at the fiat of a private social media platform.

Views will differ.

But the wider questions are:

If a thing is to be done about the use and abuse of a social media platform by those with political and media power, who should have the power to do this?

And on what basis should they make that decision? 

And to whom (if anyone) should that decision-maker be accountable?

And if the social media platforms themselves are left to regulate what political and media activity can take place and what content we can read and watch, who (if anyone) can regulate them?

*

‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?‘ – who watches the watchmen? – is one of the oldest and most difficult questions in the history of organised societies, and it is a question that sometimes has no answer.

And now our generation gets to ask and to try and answer this question.

*

POSTSCRIPT

Later on the day of this post, Trump’s Twitter account was permanently suspended.

https://twitter.com/TwitterSafety/status/1347684877634838528

 

*****

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