A rumble can be heard emanating from assemblies and governor’s mansions across these fruited plains. It is a sound reminiscent of by-gone days that echo down through centuries of constitutional thought. Prompted by everything from unfunded Congressional mandates to the new omnibus healthcare bill, (See here and here) these reverberations strike cords of distant legal memory that are, for most of us, only imperfectly recalled.
For many, talk of state’s rights, interposition, and even nullification brings forth unsavory recollections of illiberal and tyrannical state and local institutions of chattel slavery, Jim Crow and the color bar. That association is understandable given the prevailing interpretation presented in classrooms, but very unfortunate if we stop there.
One of the most essential roles of states in any federal system is to act as counterweights to centralization. For this reason all power is not assigned to the national authority. In the original constitutional design of the American federation, what was not given was reserved to the states or to the people thereof, and it is from this perspective that the check to central power, the bite of Federalism, was to be derived in its most essential forms.
The idea of states as checks to national concentration pushes the bounds of constitutionalism, but it was understood that however approached, and by whatever means undertaken, this role was not to be pursued for light or transient reasons.
The idea of interposition took many forms. It could embrace official expressions of disapproval by the legislature or governor of a state. It might entail simple, non-cooperation with federal authorities, such as a refusal to enforce a federal law, or acknowledge a mandate. Or, it might take the form of an unofficial understanding on the part of local groups and institutions, usually operating under the tacit approval of the state, not to comply with federal measures. In its most extreme form, interposition could assert the right to interdict the enforcement of an offending provision through an act of outright nullification. How far a state might go in pursuit of this last line of interposing itself is a question of some delicacy.
Preventing by official policy or action the enforcement of a federal measure stresses the limits of constitutionality. If either of the contending powers moves from peaceful toleration or acquiescence to violence, the episode takes us from the realm of the legal to the revolutionary. For this reason, nullification has always been the most dangerous and the most controversial form of interposition.
The basis for the authority of all these options, however, remains rooted in the constitutional ideal itself. It was not the product of a mean or unnecessary political expediency. On the contrary, the idea of interposition was an attempt to sort out a vital constitutional principle and was first articulated, not to defend slavery, but to support free speech, free trade, peace and the liberty of fugitive slaves.
Federalism in all its various forms can be an instrument for good as well as ill. Like any political order, its quality is determined by the people who compose it. To really understand why the states are again making noises of interposition, we need to understand something of the history of our federal structure of government. The reason new life is breathed into old thoughts has everything to do with what rests at the center of our political existence.
Why do we have states? Lincoln made the claim that the Union preceded the states. What he could not say, however, was that the federal government as constituted in 1787 preceded them, because clearly it had not. The main thrust of Lincoln’s reasoning was that the Revolution and the move for independence began as a united effort. The implications of that claim are still debated and one need only recall the exchanges between Mel Bradford and Harry Jaffa on this point. What is certain, however, is that the federal government did not create the states. What then is the role of states in our federal order?
The authors and advocates of the Constitution, whatever they may have thought privately, were not free to assert any desired construction, but had to contend for the support of the peoples of their various former colonies. They needed to address directly the concerns of liberty that had animated the move to independence, and more specifically they had to allay the fears raised by their critics, the Antifederalists. In this way, whatever hidden motives might have existed, it is the stated intentions of the Federalist advocates that must bear legal weight.
Among the primary objects of the Revolution was to secure the liberty of the colonies to determine the disposition of their own properties, free from arbitrary imperial commands. American anxieties of the late eighteenth century grew in direct proportion to the growth of imperial designs by King and Parliament.
The Antifederalists are often called the old revolutionaries as much for their actual age as for their adherence to older ideas about colonial liberties. The list of such advocates is long and venerable: Brutus, Federal Farmer, Cato and Centinel. My favorite, however, is one not so generally recognized, but to my mind, gave the reasons for decentralization and the existence of states most succinctly and eloquently: Maryland Farmer. He took a long range perspective based on some very ancient precedents.
Edward Gibbon’s first volume of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire came out in 1776, and like other important works of its time, Americans were eager to read it. By the time of the Constitution, Maryland Farmer had imbibed its central lessons and recognized how closely its themes complimented American experience. He disputed the charge often heard that the states, if not united under one supreme head, would soon be at each others throats. No, he said, citing Gibbon, real terror is to be found where there is no hope of escape, no exit.
Anticipating the role of competing jurisdictions, Maryland Farmer cautioned against rejecting the Articles of Confederation, observing that “In small independent States contiguous to each other, the people run away and leave despotism to wreak its vengeance on itself; and thus it is that moderation becomes with them the law of self preservation.”
The referenced passages of Gibbon illustrated that understanding nicely. Noting the ease with which a person onerous to power could escape in the Europe of his day to the safety of a rival state, Gibbon pointed to the very different reality of the ancient empire: Rome, he observed, came to fill the world, “and when that empire fell into the hands of a single person, the world became a safe and dreary prison for his enemies.”
Maryland Farmer took that point to heart and asked Americans, who had just fought a war to resist the imperial designs of England, was it all simply to consolidate power in your own hands? He hoped not.
So strong were these sentiments in favor of decentralization, Federalists had no choice but to address them. Some of the most eloquent passages of the Federalist Papers were set out with the explicit aim of refuting the consolidationist claims of the nature of the Constitution. Indeed, more than one of those pieces by Publius was penned by that arch purveyor of centralized authority himself, Alexander Hamilton. In the next part we will examine how Publius attempted to negotiate the question of a federal check to national power, and look at the roots of interposition as they were presented by the supporters of the Constitution.
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