I am happy to publish this guest post from my frequent co-author Seth Barrett Tillman, which is cross-posted at Seth’s blog.
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If you ask me about whether or not the President has an implied constitutionally-granted power to remove high-level Executive Branch officers subject to his (the President’s) appointment power, my answer is basically that I do not have a dog in that fight. Last August, in response to an inquiry by e-mail, I responded: “I have always avoided taking any position on this issue: [the scope of presidential] removal [powers]. I think [any interpreter taking a position] is at the far edge of the construction zone . . . where policy is driving legal conclusions. I do not think [the question] answerable as an originalist matter.”
Contra Tillman, Professor Shugerman and Professor Prakash do have positions on this issue.
Shugerman believes the answer is: No, the President has no such power impliedly granted by the Constitution. And Prakash believes: Yes, the President does have such a power. For the reasons I elaborated above and others, I am not going to judge between these two views, and I am not going to judge between these two academics. At least, between Shugerman and Prakash, I can honestly say that I am unbiased: Shugerman and Prakash have offered something less than effusive praise for my publications—as they are entirely entitled to do.
But now something has changed. The terms of this debate, indeed, of legal academic debate, are being changed. Prakash et al wrote a 2023 Harvard Law Review article. See Aditya Bamzai & Saikrishna Bangalore Prakash, The Executive Power of Removal, 136 Harv. L. Rev. 1756 (2023), <https://harvardlawreview.org/print/vol-136/the-executive-power-of-removal/>. Prakash made certain arguments in support of his position—he relied on certain documents, and he put forward his interpretation of those documents. Shugerman has taken the position that Prakash has seriously erred—i.e., that Prakash’s interpretations have been wrong all along, and that he (Shugerman) has demonstrated that wrongness, and that Prakash has refused to retract or to sufficiently respond. For this alleged wrong, Shugerman put forward:
If “originalism” is a serious academic enterprise, are there any consequences for originalist scholarship that repeatedly misused, misrepresented, or made false claims about the historical record?
…. Is there accountability for originalists who make false historical claims?
Jed Shugerman, The Misuse of Ratification-Era Documents by Unitary Executive Theorists, Mich. J. L. Reform (2025) (manuscript at 25), <https://ssrn.com/abstract=5070241>; id. at 1 (same).
Let’s assume that Shugerman is correct, and that Prakash is wrong.
What does Shugerman have in mind by way of “accountability” where Prakash remains unmoved and unwilling to voluntarily concede error? What would Shugerman have third parties do? Should third parties convene a tribunal or board of inquiry? Who would be the judges? Would the finders-of-fact be generalists off the street or specialist academics, and if so, in what field(s)?
Moreover, what punishments would the tribunal be empowered to impose?
Assuming lethal injection and a custodial sentence are out, does Shugerman want to see Prakash “removed” from his academic post?
Should Prakash be held in stocks and forced to read Gienapp and Rakove?
Or Should Prakash be denied access to his university’s library and interlibrary loan service?
Or—God forbid—should Prakash be asked to suffer the Amy Wax treatment—i.e., denied teaching duties involving impressionable 1Ls?
Is the punishment to be shunning by on-campus peers, or to be denied a spot, by distant faculty, at some off-campus conference?
What does Shugerman mean by “accountability”?
I am a traditionalist. Let me suggest that we stick with the traditional norm for legal academics. What is the norm? When Academic-A publishes an article, then Academic-B can write a response. If people are persuaded by Academic-B’s publication, then Academic-A’s reputation will take a hit. And that is “accountability.” Likewise, Academic-A can reply to Academic-B’s response. And that’s “accountability” too. Critics can be critiqued. A university built on free inquiry allows third parties to judge among publications, responses, and replies (and sometimes sur-replies)—along with the absence of such responses and replies. An interlocutor is not owed a response. Where an interlocutor writes a response, the initial proponent can reply or he can stand on his original publication. But the interlocutor is not owed a reply.
Now you might say: Seth—why do you think that is the norm? The answer is tu quoque. Let me explain:
In 2017, as briefing began involving litigation against Trump-45 based on the Foreign Emoluments Clause the Domestic (Presidential) Emoluments Clause, Professor Shugerman wrote an article appearing on Slate. He wrote:
Ultimately, the central piece of documentary evidence for this emoluments argument is a manuscript version of a 1792 document by Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton. That document omitted President George Washington from a list of “Persons Holding Civil Offices or Employments Under the United States.” Yet the same document, when it was actually printed in official records of the early U.S. government, listed the president and vice president under the heading of “persons holding civil offices or employments under the United States.” In every subsequent report of the Treasury Department listing the employees and offices “under the United States”—from Treasury Secretary Hamilton himself and his successors—the president is included . . . .
Jed Handelsman Shugerman & Ors, Presidential Revisionism, Slate (July 17, 2017, 5:42 PM), <http://tinyurl.com/y7qaabr4> (emphases added).
Leaving aside Shugerman’s claims about the 1792 document and its subsequent reproduction, here, Shugerman is saying that there were other Treasury Department circulars—that is, “every subsequent report”—listing offices “under the United States.” Shugerman has this language in quotation marks. But he fails to identify any such documents using office “under the United States”-language. I put Shugerman et al on notice of my concerns long ago.
To date, roughly eight years later . . .
- Shugerman has not published copies of the documents he claimed existed in his 2017 Slate publication. Nor has he privately sent me copies;
- Shugerman has not published full bibliographic information identifying where these documents can be found. Nor has he privately sent me this information.
- Shugerman has not published links to these documents. Nor has he privately sent me such links.
My own belief is that, in 2017, Shugerman erred, and that no such documents exist. But he has not responded, and he has not retracted. And that is within norms. Indeed, I suggest that it is the norm.
Shugerman does not owe Slate, its readers, or me a reply regarding my critique—then or now. Why Shugerman has not responded is difficult to say. Perhaps he adheres to his original claims, and he leaves it to third parties (such as me) to go out and find the documents he claims exist. Or, maybe, he thinks the issue unimportant, and that his basic argument stands, even if this lone set of related documentary-claims fails. Or, perhaps, he is just too busy.
And the same applies to Prakash. Prakash does not owe the world and Shugerman a reply just because Shugerman is 101% sure Prakash is wrong. A failure to reply simply means that Shugerman gets the last word, and people have to decide who has the better argument.
Even now, at this late date, Shugerman might reply to my critique. But if he does so now, that is some eight years after-the-fact, that is a tell. Moreover, the Foreign Emoluments Clause and the Domestic (Presidential) Emoluments Clause are likely to be in the news again very soon. Perhaps as early as Monday, January 20, 2025, at noon. Given that Shugerman’s Slate article is likely to be cited in renewed scholarship and renewed briefing, there is good reason for him to consider addressing the difficulties which I have flagged in this blog post. But “good reason” does not amount to an academic duty or other moral obligation. After all, if you are the sort who will rely on an article in Slate, absent footnotes and links justifying ambitious documentary claims, that is on you. What I can say is that if Shugerman revises his position in light of my critique, and he does so some eight years after the fact, that leaves Prakash with some time to reassess his position in a similar fashion. After all, Shugerman was responding to a 2023 Prakash publication in Harvard Law Review—so that leaves Prakash with a good seven years to decide what to do.
Fair is fair.
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