Trump defying a Supreme Court order is a constitutional crisis. The crisis comes to a head with Congress derelict in its duty. The only one with the power to enforce limits on the president’s power is Congress through its power of impeachment and a little bit through passing legislation that restrains the president.
“Legally, the answer is complicated and untested. No Fed chair has ever been removed by a President.
The Federal Reserve Act allows for the dismissal of Board members, including the chair, “for cause.” But that has historically been interpreted as misconduct or incapacity, not policy disagreements. “The court would typically not see disagreements over interest rates settings as ‘for-cause,’” Binder says.”
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“Still, the Trump Administration appears to be laying the groundwork for a potential confrontation. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent recently told Bloomberg that he expects to begin interviewing possible replacements for Powell in the fall.”
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“At the heart of that debate is a nearly century-old legal precedent: Humphrey’s Executor v. United States, a 1935 Supreme Court ruling that limited the President’s ability to remove leaders of independent agencies without cause. The ruling has long shielded Fed chairs from political dismissal, but could soon be tested by a conservative Supreme Court.”
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“Trump has blamed Powell for failing to act aggressively enough to support economic growth, saying the Fed chair is “playing politics” by keeping interest rates steady. But central bankers—and many economists—argue the opposite: that an independent Fed is essential to managing inflation and stewarding the economy, and that caving to political demands could damage the economy and global trust in U.S. institutions.”
“President Donald Trump claims that the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 grants him the power to deport certain Venezuelan-born aliens without due process based on the mere allegation of membership in a criminal street gang.
But the text of the Alien Enemies Act does not allow the president to do anything of the sort. “Whenever there shall be a declared war between the United States and any foreign nation or government, or any invasion or predatory incursion shall be perpetrated, attempted, or threatened against the territory of the United States, by any foreign nation or government,” the act states, the president may direct the “removal” of “all natives, citizens, denizens, or subjects of the hostile nation or government, being males of the age of fourteen years and upwards, who shall be within the United States, and not actually naturalized.”
The alleged crimes of the alleged members of the street gang Tren de Aragua do not meet this legal standard. There is no “declared war” between the United States and Venezuela, and there is no “invasion or predatory incursion” of the U.S. by “any foreign nation or government.” The gang is not a foreign state, and the gang’s alleged crimes, as heinous as they may be, do not qualify as acts of war by a foreign state. Trump’s frequent talk about a rhetorical “invasion” of the U.S. by undocumented immigrants utterly fails to satisfy the law’s requirements.
The fatal defects of Trump’s position are further illuminated when you compare Trump’s stance with James Madison’s 1800 “Report on the Alien and Sedition Acts.” (The Alien Enemies Act was one of the three laws that comprised the Alien and Sedition Acts.)
As Madison explained, there are two categories of “offences for which aliens within the jurisdiction” of the United States “are punishable.” The first category involves “offences committed by the nation of which they make a part, and in whose offences they are involved.” In this case, “the offending nation can no otherwise be punished than by war.” In other words, the offending nation in this case has committed an act of war against the United States. The aliens who fall within this category are “alien enemies.”
The second category involves offenses committed by aliens “themselves alone, without any charge against the nation to which they belong.” In this case, “the offence being committed by the individual, not by his nation, and against the municipal law, not against the law of nations; the individual only, and not the nation is punishable; and the punishment must be conducted according to the municipal law, not according to the law of nations.” The aliens who fall within this second category are “alien friends.”
Notice that “alien friends” may certainly be punished by the normal U.S. legal system for whatever crimes they commit while on U.S. soil. They may be deprived of their life, their liberty, and their property. But—and this is a big but—they may only be deprived of life, liberty, or property after they have received due process of law, which is what the Constitution guarantees to all persons, not just to all citizens.”
Republicans in Congress are not acting like a co-equal branch designed to be a check on power grabs from the president. They are acting like a non-person character, or a non-person Congress.
“The Constitution’s text is clear that Congress must authorize appropriations and the president must “take Care” that those laws are “faithfully executed.” There is no basis in constitutional text or history for the president to claim open-ended power to impound funds in the manner of the OMB memo. In 1975, the Supreme Court rejected former President Richard Nixon’s claim to be able to spend less than Congress had appropriated. That ruling would have had to come out the other way if the president had a constitutional power to impound. (Perhaps aware of this reality, OMB issued a later memo claiming the freeze was not, in fact, an “impoundment.” But this is just a semantic sleight of hand: For entities that need federal funds this or next week in particular, there is no meaningful difference.)”
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“If anything, the Supreme Court has tightened the constitutional leash on such unilateral claims of executive authority untethered from a statutory anchor. With Justice Neil Gorsuch leading the charge, it has stressed instead the need for clear authority from Congress for the exercise of any delegated power, including the power to write regulations. The OMB memo makes a mockery of those decisions by allowing the president to do with money what now isn’t allowed with regulations.
It is true that there is a scattering of past instances of impoundment. But these isolated cases largely concern foreign affairs and national security matters. In 1803, for example, Thomas Jefferson declined to spend funds for 15 gunboats for fear that they would upend secret talks with a foreign sovereign, Napoleonic France. Whatever unilateral presidential authority exists over foreign affairs cannot constitutionally be spread with reckless abandon to cover any or all domestic spending.
Past presidents have also confronted conflicts between a legislative command and Congress’ failure to appropriate funds to execute that command. There, presidents are forced to make a choice between dueling statutory orders. Courts rarely address these conflicts. But it is striking to note that in a 2012 case involving competing mandates, the Supreme Court rejected the executive’s claim to be able to withhold promised funds.”
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“The impoundment power Trump’s White House asserts would drive a stake through Congress’ constitutional authority.
Exactly like the line-item veto invalidated by the Supreme Court in 1998, the claimed impoundment power is de facto power to selectively edit duly enacted laws. This claimed nonenforcement should elicit whiplash among conservatives. After all, it was red states such as Texas, aided by Trump’s adviser Stephen Miller, that once excoriated the Biden administration for negating federal laws on immigration via nonenforcement. (The Biden administration, however, could point to statutory conflicts that don’t exist in this case.)”
“When the Supreme Court endorsed broad presidential immunity from criminal charges last month, it raised troubling questions about whether and how former occupants of the White House can be held accountable for abusing their powers. In an initial attempt to answer those questions, Special Counsel Jack Smith this week unveiled a superseding indictment in the federal election interference case against former President Donald Trump—the same case that prompted the Court’s ruling.
The viability of United States v. Trump is unclear at this point. The Supreme Court charged U.S. District Judge Tanya Chutkan with reviewing the charges against Trump in light of its ruling, and any decisions she makes will be subject to appeal. There is no chance that the case will go to trial before this year’s presidential election, and if Trump wins, we can be sure he will find a way to make it disappear. Smith’s revisions nevertheless suggest what it might take to successfully prosecute a former president despite the obstacles that the Supreme Court has erected.
The most notable change from the original indictment is the excision of any reference to Trump’s interactions with the Department of Justice (DOJ). The government initially portrayed those conversations, in which Trump pressured DOJ officials to investigate his baseless claims of systematic election fraud, as part of a criminal scheme to overturn President Joe Biden’s victory. But the Supreme Court explicitly ruled out criminal liability based on such contacts.
Trump was exercising his “conclusive and preclusive” authority as president when he urged the DOJ to validate his stolen-election fantasy, Chief Justice John Roberts wrote in the majority opinion. The executive branch has “‘exclusive authority and absolute discretion’ to decide which crimes to investigate and prosecute,” he wrote, “including with respect to allegations of election crime.”
As Justice Sonya Sotomayor noted in a dissent joined by Justices Elena Kagan and Ketanji Brown Jackson, that holding seems to give presidents a lot of leeway to wield the federal government’s daunting prosecutorial powers against their political or personal enemies. Under the majority’s “view of core powers,” she said, “even fabricating evidence and insisting the [Justice] Department use it in a criminal case could be covered.”
Sotomayor also noted other possible implications of the majority’s position. When a president “uses his official powers in any way, under the majority’s reasoning, he now will be insulated from criminal prosecution,” she warned. “Orders the Navy’s Seal Team 6 to assassinate a political rival? Immune. Organizes a military coup to hold onto power? Immune. Takes a bribe in exchange for a pardon? Immune. Immune, immune, immune.”
Roberts faulted Sotomayor for “fear mongering on the basis of extreme hypotheticals.” But we do not need imaginary scenarios to understand the perils of assuring presidents that they need not worry about the threat of criminal prosecution as long as they are exercising their “core powers.”
The proposed articles of impeachment against Richard Nixon alleged, among other things, that he made “false or misleading statements to lawfully authorized investigative officers and employees of the United States” and that he interfered with “the conduct of investigations by the Department of Justice of the United States, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, [and] the office of Watergate Special Prosecution Force.” The issue of whether Nixon could have faced criminal charges based on those allegations was never litigated, because he resigned before he could be impeached, and his successor, Gerald Ford, granted him a pardon that covered any federal offenses he might have committed in office. But according to the Supreme Court’s reasoning in Trump v. United States, Nixon’s corrupt interactions with the DOJ would have been off limits for federal prosecutors.
Beyond that specific instruction, the Court was hazy about the extent of presidential immunity. “We conclude that under our constitutional structure of separated powers, the nature of Presidential power requires that a former President have some immunity from criminal prosecution for official acts during his tenure in office,” Roberts wrote. “At least with respect to the President’s exercise of his core constitutional powers, this immunity must be absolute. As for his remaining official actions, he is also entitled to immunity. At the current stage of proceedings in this case, however, we need not and do not decide whether that immunity must be absolute, or instead whether a presumptive immunity is sufficient.”
What about Trump’s interactions with Vice President Mike Pence? Trump persistently pressured Pence, in private and in public, to intervene on his behalf during the congressional ratification of the election results by rejecting electoral votes for Biden. Citing the “contingent” electors that his campaign had recruited in several battleground states, Trump urged Pence to send both sets of slates “back to the states” so that legislators could resolve a nonexistent controversy about the actual results. Pence repeatedly resisted, saying he had no authority to do what Trump asked.
The original indictment portrayed those interactions as a key part of a criminal conspiracy to change the outcome of the election. That aspect of the indictment presented “difficult questions,” according to the Supreme Court. “Whenever the President and Vice President discuss their official responsibilities, they engage in official conduct,” Roberts wrote. “Presiding over the January 6 certification proceeding at which Members of Congress count the electoral votes is a constitutional and statutory duty of the Vice President. The indictment’s allegations that Trump attempted to pressure the Vice President to take particular acts in connection with his role at the certification proceeding thus involve official conduct, and Trump is at least presumptively immune from prosecution for such conduct.”
The question, Roberts said, is “whether that presumption of immunity is rebutted under the circumstances.” He noted that the vice president is acting “in his capacity as President of the Senate,” part of the legislative branch, when he oversees the electoral vote count. The government therefore “may argue that consideration of the President’s communications with the Vice President concerning the certification proceeding does not pose ‘dangers of intrusion on the authority and functions of the Executive Branch.'”
Would that argument be correct? Maybe not, Roberts suggested: “The President may frequently rely on the Vice President in his capacity as President of the Senate to advance the President’s agenda in Congress. When the Senate is closely divided, for instance, the Vice President’s tiebreaking vote may be crucial for confirming the President’s nominees and passing laws that align with the President’s policies. Applying a criminal prohibition to the President’s conversations discussing such matters with the Vice President—even though they concern his role as President of the Senate—may well hinder the President’s ability to perform his constitutional functions. It is ultimately the Government’s burden to rebut the presumption of immunity.”
The new indictment tries to do that in several ways. It notes that Pence was Trump’s “own running mate,” meaning the intervention that Trump demanded would personally benefit both of them. It adds that “all of the conversations between [Trump] and [Pence] described below focused on [Trump] maintaining power.” The indictment points out that Trump “had no official responsibilities related to the certification proceeding, but he did have a personal interest as a candidate in being named the winner of the election.” It later reiterates that Trump “had no official role” in the certification process.
The indictment also emphasizes the private character of other conduct that might be construed as “official acts.” Regarding Trump’s pressure on state officials to reverse Biden’s victories, for example, the indictment notes that Trump “had no official responsibilities related to any state’s certification of the election results.” Discussing Trump’s “fake electors” scheme, the indictment likewise notes that he “had no official responsibilities related to the convening of legitimate electors or their signing and mailing of their certificates of vote.”
Like the original indictment, the revised version describes the notorious telephone conversation in which Trump leaned on Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger to “find” the votes necessary to reverse the election outcome in that state. But the indictment makes a point of noting that the participants in that call included “private attorneys” and White House Chief of Staff Mark Meadows, who “sometimes handled private and Campaign-related logistics” for Trump.
The indictment still relies on Trump’s social media posts to make the case that he pushed a phony grievance aimed at preventing Biden from taking office. But it argues that such communications should not be viewed as “official acts.”
Although Trump “sometimes used his Twitter account to communicate with the public, as President, about official actions and policies,” the indictment says, “he also regularly used it for personal purposes—including to spread knowingly false claims of election fraud, exhort his supporters to travel to Washington, D.C. on January 6, pressure the Vice President to misuse his ceremonial role in the certification proceeding, and leverage the events at the Capitol on January 6 to unlawfully retain power.” And when Trump riled up his supporters that day, stoking their outrage at the prospect that Congress was about to recognize Biden’s supposedly fraudulent victory, he was speaking at “a privately-funded, privately-organized political rally.”
The indictment lists five alleged co-conspirators, “none of whom were government officials during the conspiracies and all of whom were acting in a private capacity.” It describes four as “private attorney[s]” and one as “a private political consultant.””
“The claims that Republicans have made about Walz focus on three issues: his decision to retire from the Army National Guard in 2005, his rank upon retirement, and a comment he made about carrying weapons “in war.””
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“Walz retired in May 2005, two months prior to his unit receiving an official deployment order to Iraq. He stated in 2009 that his reasons for retiring were to pursue a run for the House of Representatives, which he won the following year, and to avoid conflicts under the Hatch Act, which bars federal employees from engaging in certain political activities.
Walz filed for his run for office before the National Guard had notified his unit of the possibility of a deployment to Iraq. It’s unclear if, at the time, he already knew that a deployment could be a possibility.”
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“Walz did, in fact, attain the position of Command Sergeant Major. However, after he retired, his title was changed to Master Sergeant, because he did not finish the coursework required to retire under the promoted title.
As a result, it’s accurate to say that he was once a Command Sergeant Major, but not that he was a “retired Command Sergeant Major.””
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““We can make sure that those weapons of war, that I carried in war, is the only place where those weapons are at,” Walz said in remarks about an assault weapons ban in 2018.”
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“Walz was deployed as part of the National Guard to Vicenza, Italy, in August 2003 as part of Operation Enduring Freedom but was not in a combat zone.
The phrasing of the statement in his gun control remarks, suggesting that he carried the weapons “in war,” was imprecise. While technically correct given the operation he was part of, it appears to suggest an experience he didn’t have. Walz has openly acknowledged in other interviews that he hadn’t seen combat while deployed.
The Harris campaign has stressed Walz’s training with firearms in response. “In his 24 years of service, the Governor carried, fired and trained others to use weapons of war innumerable times,” the Harris campaign told Vox in a statement.”