human rights and constitutional conundrums

Consider the following hypothetical scenario: A senior intelligence officer is informed that the CIA has established secret prisons abroad that are holding suspected terrorists. He is further informed that the CIA (with the indirect blessing of the Bush administration) has decided to use waterboarding and other methods commonly deemed to be torture in the process of
interrogation. That same senior intelligence officer is then called on to testify to Congress in closed hearings. Under oath, that officer then reveals this information. The senior intelligence officer also intimates that he cannot reveal such knowledge publicly because it would violate federal law (as in publishing state secrets). Those congressmen and senators had themselves signed a secrecy pledge thus binding themselves not to reveal sensitive information. Should a senator or congressman in possession of such information blow the whistle anyway? Would they risk jail time for doing so?

It would certainly raise an interesting constitutional question. Article I, section 6 grants freedom of speech for national legislators, and this ought to be protection enough
from political or legal threats (hat tip to Marty Lederman on Balkinization for bringing this discourse.net post to our attention). Precisely what sanctions would a member of Congress face for raising these practices in debate?

The constitutional conundrum, though, is not the real issue. As we lead into the 2008 presidential election, the question of the United States' commitment to human rights will be a central matter, particularly where the rest of the world is concerned. Our candidates (repubs and dems) have erred on the side of jingoistic hysteria and like to rehearse "get tough" speeches and soundbites during the debates. Witness, for instance, the immediate negative reaction to Barack Obama when, in debate, he was asked by Brian Williams what the first thing he would do as president if a terrorist organization attacked the United States. Obama's response--that he would have an emergency response ready so we don't get caught in another Katrina--was deemed weak and offensive.

Outright offensive, however, is the shameless behavior of Mitt Romney. He has suggested in debates that we "double" Guantanamo. Shockingly, he refused to denounce waterboarding as torture. Which brings us right back to where we stand in the presidential election of 2008. Although the corporate American media refuses to address the issue of international human rights, we must as a nation force our presidential candidates to account. It is time, for instance, for the Democrats to state plainly where they stand on these important issues. Hillary Clinton has ducked and dodged the question for too long, as has John Edwards.

We should not forget that elections are themselves constitutional procedures. And that it is elections when the people can speak the most forcefully on particular issues. The elections of 1800, 1828, 1860 and 1936 were all such moments when the people gave voice to a particular constitutional vision. Precisely how we treat 2008 has yet to be determined. Perhaps we need more input and voice from the most important, but most oft forgotten, constitutional actors there are: the People.

Boumediene v. Bush

In what may be the most significant constitutional showdown of the twenty-first century thus far, a number of detainees at Guantanamo Bay are suing out a writ of habeas corpus. The writ's practical suspension in the name of the Bush administration's "war on terror" has been one of the most frightening--and least reported upon--issues alive today in the United States.

The Bush administration argues that habeas corpus simply does not apply to enemy aliens captured on the battlefield. Supporters of the administration point out that there is not a single such precedent in American or British law supporting exactly the fact pattern of Boumediene. Lawyers for the detainees have repeatedly pointed out that this is incorrect, if only because the common law writ of habeas corpus was not traditionally restricted to subjects (or in America, to citizens), and that notions of subjectship were simply not as well articulated as they are today.

The argument is of course much bigger than this. Few supporters of habeas corpus would argue that the writ should extend to the Guantanamo detainees if, for instance, the Bush administration treated them as true prisoners of war and extended them the protections of the Geneva Conventions. Supporters of the Bush administration are also forced to argue that the U.S. courts have no jurisdiction because the United States is not sovereign in Cuba and merely holds a lease for the military base. As absurd as this is on its face, the U.S. Congress has attempted to strip the courts of jurisdiction in these matters, which has subsequently forced great separation of powers questions on the Supreme Court.

Oral arguments before the Supreme Court can be found here. The set of consolidated cases that make up Boumediene v. Bush are well worth listening to and considering as a set of very serious historical problems. How far does the writ of habeas corpus apply? To what extent does the U.S. Supreme Court have the ability to countermand the executive and the legislative branches? And to what extent do political divisions on the court itself reflect different judicial outcomes? Oral arguments before the Court are wonderful ways for the justices to signal each other how they intend to vote and what they intend to argue. What kind of politics do we see here? It is an enormously important question as the imperial presidency rolls onward.

One issue, from a constitutional historian's point of view, is about just how much original meaning is controlling and precisely how it is recovered. One doubts that Justice Scalia's continued refrain "you can't find me one case where habeas was extended to an enemy alien" is relevant. It ignores the development of habeas corpus as a writ and, for that matter, fails to deal with the significant problems of today.