“the lawsuit argues — in often dramatic terms — that the Appointments Clause of the Constitution calls for someone with such significant and “expansive authority” as Musk to be formally nominated by the president and confirmed by the U.S. Senate.
“There is no greater threat to democracy than the accumulation of state power in the hands of a single, unelected individual,” says the lawsuit, filed by New Mexico Attorney General Raul Torrez and officials from Arizona, Michigan, Maryland, Minnesota, California, Nevada, Vermont, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Oregon, Washington and Hawaii. “Although our constitutional system was designed to prevent the abuses of an 18th century monarch, the instruments of unchecked power are no less dangerous in the hands of a 21st century tech baron.” Two of the 14 states are led by Republican governors.”
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“The suit filed by the 14 states says the Constitution blocks the president from overriding “existing laws concerning the structure of the Executive Branch and federal spending.” As a result, the suit says, the commander-in-chief from is forbidden from creating — or even “extinguishing” — federal agencies, and from “slashing federal programs or offering lengthy severance packages as a means of radically winnowing the federal workforce,” in a nod to the Trump administration’s “deferred retirement” offer to government employees.”
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“”[T]he President does not have the constitutional authority to unilaterally dismantle the government. Nor could he delegate such expansive authority to an unelected, unconfirmed individual,” Thursday’s lawsuit says.”
“When Trump imposed tariffs during his first term, he cited authority under other laws, like the Trade Act of 1974 and the Trade Expansion Act of 1962. At one point he threatened to invoke the IEEPA to impose tariffs on Mexican goods, but he never followed through, perhaps amid concern it would have been seen as legally dubious.
That’s because the IEEPA is typically used to impose sanctions — not tariffs — on other countries.
But Trump’s decision to use the IEEPA this time, when he’s aggressively flexing his executive authority, may be no accident: Unlike other trade laws, the IEEPA has the fewest procedural requirements and safeguards.
It gives the president the power to regulate or prohibit a broad swath of economic activity in order “to deal with any unusual and extraordinary threat” that is based largely outside the United States and concerns “the national security, foreign policy, or economy of the United States.” In the executive orders that announced the tariffs on Canada, Mexico and China, Trump invoked the opioid crisis, as well as illegal immigration from Canada and Mexico.”
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“No president has ever used the IEEPA to impose tariffs before. In fact, the IEEPA was passed as part of a broader effort by Congress in the 1970s to limit the president’s ability to exercise emergency economic powers. The framework ultimately created, however, completely fails to rein in the president, according to Timothy Meyer, a law professor and expert on international trade law. And Trump is taking advantage of that failure by pushing beyond what the Constitution intended.
“This strikes me as unconstitutional,” Meyer told me. “It’s very difficult to see how the framers would’ve thought that it was constitutional for the president to simply have the power on the drop of a hat to impose an across-the-board 25 percent tariff on our major trading partners.”
The Constitution gives Congress the authority to “lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises.” Between Trump’s tariffs and his unilateral effort to halt federal spending, he has now effectively claimed that he has both taxing and spending authority — a government all his own. Congress barely even needs to exist in this framework.”
“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.)”
“as a historical matter, the critics are dead wrong when they insist that the Hunter Biden pardon is a unique and uniquely polarizing use of the pardon power. Presidents since George Washington have wielded that power, often in extraordinarily controversial ways.
The question isn’t whether Biden’s action was somehow singular in its offensiveness — history shows us that it is not. It’s whether the pardon power, a constitutional holdover from the divine rights of kings, is a power worth removing altogether from the Constitution.
Here are four earlier examples of controversial uses of the pardon power, from Washington to Bill Clinton. Together, they make Biden’s pardon look almost quaint.”
“Check the U.S. Constitution, and you’ll see that Article 1, Section 8 clearly gives Congress sole authority over “Taxes, Duties, Imposts, and Excises.” Unfortunately, Congress traded away much of that power during the 20th century, beginning in the aftermath of the Great Depression—which was considerably worsened by a series of tariffs passed by Congress—and continuing with various laws passed in the 1960s and 1970s, as the Cato report details.
In theory, handing over those powers made sense. Lawmakers were more likely to be influenced by parochial interests and would favor protectionism that benefited some local industry, even if it came at the expense of the nation’s economy as a whole. Presidents, it was assumed, would take a more expansive view of the benefits of trade and would use those powers to reduce barriers like tariffs.
For a long time, that was true. It no longer is. Both Trump and President Joe Biden have favored protectionism, and have faced scant opposition from Congress or the courts.
If Trump returns to the White House in 2025, he would assume huge power over the flow of goods into the United States “without substantial procedural or institutional safeguards” due to the “broad and ambiguous language” included in many of those trade laws passed decades ago, Packard and Lincicome write.
The tariffs that Trump imposed during his term in office took advantage of many of those same powers.”
“In reality, Project 2025, an initiative put together last year by the right-wing Heritage Foundation to plan for the next GOP administration, was shaped by longtime close allies of Trump. Detailed planning for a second Trump term agenda along these lines is very real, and though the Project 2025 initiative itself has seemingly fizzled out, other groups have picked up the slack.
Furthermore, many of Project 2025’s key proposals — to centralize presidential power, crack down on unauthorized immigrants, deprioritize fighting climate change, and eliminate the Department of Education — are fully and openly supported by Trump.
Yet Trump’s intentions are less clear on a vitally important issue where Project 2025 made some particularly extreme proposals: abortion.
The project’s plan called for using presidential power to aggressively restrict abortions in several ways. Trump, wary of these proposals’ unpopularity, has said during the campaign that he won’t support some of them. He also evidently feels hesitant to outright disavow the social conservatives who have long been a key part of his base.”
“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.””
“Broadly speaking, Chief Justice John Roberts’s majority opinion reaches three conclusions. The first is that when the president takes any action under the authority given to him by the Constitution itself, his authority is “conclusive and preclusive” and thus he cannot be prosecuted. Thus, for example, a president could not be prosecuted for pardoning someone, because the Constitution explicitly gives the chief executive the “Power to Grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offences against the United States.”
One question that has loomed over this case for months is whether presidential immunity is so broad that the president could order the military to assassinate a political rival. While this case was before a lower court, one judge asked if Trump could be prosecuted if he’d ordered “SEAL Team 6 to assassinate a political rival” and Trump’s lawyer answered that he could not unless Trump had previously been successfully impeached and convicted for doing so.
Roberts’s opinion in Trump, however, seems to go even further than Trump’s lawyer did. The Constitution, after all, states that the president “shall be commander in chief of the Army and Navy of the United States.” So, if presidential authority is “conclusive and preclusive” when presidents exercise their constitutionally granted powers, the Court appears to have ruled that yes, Trump could order the military to assassinate one of his political opponents. And nothing can be done to him for it.”
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“Roberts’s second conclusion is that presidents also enjoy “at least a presumptive immunity from criminal prosecution for a President’s acts within the outer perimeter of his official responsibility.” Thus, if a president’s action even touches on his official authority (the “outer perimeter” of that authority), then the president enjoys a strong presumption of immunity from prosecution.
This second form of immunity applies when the president uses authority that is not specifically mentioned in the Constitution, and it is quite broad — most likely extending even to mere conversations between the president and one of his subordinates.
The Court also says that this second form of immunity is exceptionally strong. As Roberts writes, “the President must therefore be immune from prosecution for an official act unless the Government can show that applying a criminal prohibition to that act would pose no ‘dangers of intrusion on the authority and functions of the Executive Branch.’”
Much of Roberts’s opinion, moreover, details just how broad this immunity will be in practice. Roberts claims, for example, that Trump is immune from prosecution for conversations between himself and high-ranking Justice Department officials, where he allegedly urged them to pressure states to “replace their legitimate electors” with fraudulent members of the Electoral College who would vote to install Trump for a second term.
Roberts writes that “the Executive Branch has ‘exclusive authority and absolute discretion’ to decide which crimes to investigate and prosecute,” and thus Trump’s conversations with Justice Department officials fall within his “conclusive and preclusive authority.” Following that logic, Trump could not have been charged with a crime if he had ordered the Justice Department to arrest every Democrat who holds elective office.
Elsewhere in his opinion, moreover, Roberts suggests that any conversation between Trump and one of his advisers or subordinates could not be the basis for a prosecution. In explaining why Trump’s attempts to pressure Vice President Mike Pence to “fraudulently alter the election results” likely cannot be prosecuted, for example, Roberts points to the fact that the vice president frequently serves “as one of the President’s closest advisers.”
Finally, Roberts does concede that the president may be prosecuted for “unofficial” acts. So, for example, if Trump had personally attempted to shoot and kill then-presidential candidate Joe Biden in the lead-up to the 2020 election, rather than ordering a subordinate to do so, then Trump could probably be prosecuted for murder.
But even this caveat to Roberts’s sweeping immunity decision is not very strong. Roberts writes that “in dividing official from unofficial conduct, courts may not inquire into the President’s motives.” And Roberts even limits the ability of prosecutors to pursue a president who accepts a bribe in return for committing an official act, such as pardoning a criminal who pays off the president. In Roberts’s words, a prosecutor may not “admit testimony or private records of the President or his advisers probing the official act itself.”
That means that, while the president can be prosecuted for an “unofficial” act, the prosecutors may not prove that he committed this crime using evidence drawn from the president’s “official” actions.
The practical implications of this ruling are astounding. As Justice Sonia Sotomayor writes in a dissenting opinion, “imagine a President states in an official speech that he intends to stop a political rival from passing legislation that he opposes, no matter what it takes to do so,” it follows from Roberts’s opinion that the ensuing murder indictment “could include no allegation of the President’s public admission of premeditated intent to support” the proposition that the president intended to commit murder.
Monday’s decision, in other words, ensures that, should Trump return to power, he will do so with hardly any legal checks. Under the Republican justices’ decision in Trump, a future president can almost certainly order the assassination of his rivals. He can wield the authority of the presidency to commit countless crimes. And he can order a subordinate to do virtually anything.