The Volokh Conspiracy

The government is prosecuting three foreigners for the participating in “combat operations” in a foreign civil war.

The indictment apparently alleges no connection to America, or even foreign commerce (unlike a similar 2011 case that lacked an apparent connection to the U.S.) The defendants are Somalis who fought in Somalia. In a previous post, I discussed why the prosecution exceeds’s Congress’s Define & Punish powers; here we’ll consider other possible Art. I grounds. Today – the Foreign Commerce Clause; later today, War and Treaties. Tomorrow: additional thoughts about American exceptionalism in universal jurisdiction.

Foreign Commerce Clause
My previous post focussed on the Define & Punish Clause as the basis for the MST law; today, we will examine some other suggestions. I addressed the Define & Punish clause first because it is the first Art. I power Congress cited in its “findings” in support of the section. (sec. 301(a)(2) of the public law). Later, the findings do suggest the Commerce powers as a tertiary rationale: terrorism discourages travel from the U.S. to affected country, and vice versa. It also mentions general harm to “market stability.” This sounds a lot like the arguments rejected by the Supreme Court in U.S. v Morrison . Surely Congress’s can’t regulate any crime anywhere in the world just because it upsets things. The commerce argument is even weaker here: if someone moves out of their state because of violence against women, they presumably move to another U.S. state. But if they move from Somalia, they do not presumably move to the U.S.

The connection to U.S. commerce would have to be shown. In the one prior universal jurisdiction “material support” case, Ahmed , the government claimed in the indictment, without providing specifics, that it could show real links to commerce. The district judge accepted that as sufficient for starters [in an unpublished opinion, 2011 WL 5041456]. The present indictment says nothing about foreign commerce.

The Supreme Court has said little about the scope of the power. As a textual matter, the foreign commerce power does not allow Congress to simply regulate “foreign commerce,” but rather that part of it which is “with” the United States. It is not clear that the same kind of “foot-bone-is-connected to the ankle bone” games can be played with the Foreign Commerce clause as with the domestic on. Andrew Colangelo, in the leading article on the subject, argues that it requires a substantial U.S. nexus. Indeed, without that, the Constitution would have incorporated broad universal jurisdiction, without anyone knowing about it until now!

If the Foreign Commerce clause is enough here, it would mean several recent federal cases finding no universal jurisdiction over drug trafficking and piracy conspiracy case were wrongly decided: surely those things are linked to foreign commerce in the most general sense.

One can imagine a broader argument that the terrorist group designation is a regulation of foreign commerce, and the material support statute “necessary and proper” to that. And that would turn on the particular group and executive finding...

Some have suggested that the Foreign Commerce Clause should, on the contrary, be broader than the Interstate clause, because there is no background principle of federalism to protect. I see the point, but am hesitant for two reasons.

First, Congress is a government of limited and delegated powers. It can only have powers to regulate conduct anywhere in the world with no demostrable nexus if these were either preexisting powers of states, or somehow a natural emergent power of national sovereignty. I think neither is the case. The latter point can be seen from the fact that no other country exercises universal jurisdiction over this kind of thing...

Second, while Foreign Commerce authority is not concurrent with states, it is shared with other countries, whose existence and sovereign competency the Framers were aware of. Consider Hamilton’s discussion of the Foreign Commerce power (Camillus XXXVI):

Congress (to pursue still the case of regulating trade) may regulate, by law, our own trade and that which foreigners come to carry on with us; but they cannot regulate the trade which we may go to carry on in foreign countries; they can give to us no rights, no privileges, there. This must depend on the will and regulations of those countries; and, consequently, it is the province of the power of treaty to establish the rules of commercial intercourse between foreign nations and the United States. The
legislative may regulate our own trade, but treaty only can regulate the national trade between our own and another country

In the next few days, I’ll discuss possible sources of Art. I authority for the the federal prosecution of three foreigners for fighting on the side of al-Shabab in Somalia, and brought forcibly to the U.S. for trial. Previously, I’ve argued that this prosecution cannot be sustained under the Offenses Clause. But first lets put this in historical and political context.

The use of the material support statute to prosecute foreign fighters in foreign wars is certainly novel, but it has a a historical cousin, which highlights the unusualness of the present prosecution in Brooklyn.

The Neutrality Proclamation of 1793, and subsequent Act, banned Americans from participating, or providing what we might call material support, to the belligerents in the Napoleonic Wars. The idea was such involvement could drag the U.S. into the war. The measures were extremely controversial, leading to the Pacificus-Helvedius debate between Hamilton and Madison. One of the secondary questions was the source of constitutional authority: it was variously placed in what I’d call the “dormant war power” – violations of neutrality by citizens undermined Congress’s prerogative of choosing our wars – or various treaty obligations to the particular warring states. Foreign commerce would do too. (I discuss the Art. I basis for the law in Part II.D.2 of this new article.)

The extraterritorial application of the Material Support statute to foreigners engaged in foreign wars essentially applies the Neutrality Act to the world. Not only must Americans stay of the of designated conflicts, everyone else must to. Of course, the effect is the opposite of the Neutrality Act: instead of distancing the US from foreign wars, it imports them into U.S. court rooms.

It is interesting to note that two of the men have Swedish citizenship, and the third had British citizenship. He became a news item last year when the U.K. revoked his citizenship shortly before his mysterious disappearance in Africa. He only reappeared in Brooklyn federal district court.

Given the lack of protest by Sweden, and the citizenship-stripping by Britain, one might think they are happy/complicit about the U.S. prosecution. I’ve noted before the process of “Goalization,” how countries transfer pirates to African countries with less cumbersome justice systems – a kind of cheapest-justice-provider. Apparently the European governments were watching these Islamist fighters for a while but couldn’t move against them. So maybe transferring terror suspects to the U.S. for trial is the European version of America’s sending them to Egypt or Iraq...

A few days before Christmas, the U.S. indicted three men at the Federal District courthouse in Brooklyn for plotting suicide bomb attacks. This is an extraordinary, almost unique case: none of the people or conduct has any connection to the U.S. The defendants are foreign nationals, captured by some African government ont their way to join up with al-Shabab, the Somali Islamist group. To be clear, there is no suggestion that they planned to target American nationals or facilities, or had even ever been to this country before.

This is an aggressive – and unconstitutional – assertion of universal jurisdiction. The U.S. is prosecuting foreign nationals for their participation in a foreign civil war. Congress, as the Supreme Court recently reminded us in the Health Care decision, is truly one of limited regulatory powers, and thus the first question about such a case is what Art. I power gives Congress the power to punish entirely foreign conduct with no U.S. nexus.

The men have been charged under the “material support for terrorism” statute, 18 USC 2339B . Apart from the many controversies about the substantive sweep of the law, it casts a very broad jurisdictional net. By its terms, it applies to foreigners who support designated foreign terror groups with no connection to the U.S. In other words, it makes terrorism anywhere a federal offense.

While the statute has previously been used to prosecute extraterritorial conduct by foreigners that conducted significant dealings in the U.S., this is only the second apparently “universal” prosecution.

The Art I. authority for prosecuting conduct under universal jurisdiction is the “Define and Punish” clause. Yet the clause limits universal jurisdiction to crimes, like piracy, that are i) “offenses against the law of nations,” and ii) treated as universally cognizable by the law of nations. Congress cannot “define” something as a universal offense when the law of nations has not done so – not because of any superiority or comity of international law, but because that is the limit place by the Define and Punish Clause.

I have elaborated this theory of the Define and Punish Clause and its implications in a series of recent papers.

More importantly, recently several federal courts have adopted this position.
Thus in U.S. v. Bellaizac-Hurtado, 700 F.3d 1245 (2012), the 11th Circuit held unconstitutional a universal jurisdiction prosecution of drug trafficking in a foreign country. It held that drug trafficking had not been recognized as a “offense against the law of nations,” and thus cannot be reached by Congress under the Offenses Clause. One of the judges added in concurrence that because drug trafficking is not universally cognizable in international law, it cannot be punished universally through the Offenses power.

Similarly, in U.S. v. Ali, the a D.C. federal district court threw out charges of piracy and conspiracy to commit piracy because universal jurisdiction for such acts only ran on the high seas. And the Fourth Circuit in U.S. v. Dire
680 F.3d 446 (2012) agreed in dicta. (And of course, in Kiobel the Supreme Court is reconsidering whether universal jurisdiction exists under the Alien Tort Act.)

Material support for terrorism is a particularly weak case for the Offenses Clause, as the D.C. Circuit had ruled in Hamdan that it was not a war crime (though this does not rule out its being another type of international offense), and terrorism itself does not violate international law, as the Second Circuit has held in Yousef.

Indeed, I know of know other case in the world of material support for terrorism being prosecuted through universal jurisdiction. In prosecutions under the Define and Punish Clause, courts have increasingly (and properly) required actual evidence of past state practice to establish an international norm, as I’ve discussed here before.

The policy behind the material support statute, when applied without a U.S. nexus, is to punish actors whose political actors whose goals and methods the U.S. disapproves of. Al Shabab is a pernicious and destabilizing force, but that does not give the U.S. Congress Art. I power to criminally punish entirely foreign conduct simply because it runs counter to U.S. foreign policy.

There are other ways the U.S. can, consistent with the Constitution, engage and repress Al Shabab and other purely foreign terror groups. It can help local governments that are fighting them. It can even use military force itself. It the beef with Al Shabab is that it is an ally of other forces actively hostile to the U.S., it members (but perhaps not supporters) could perhaps even be detained militarily as co-belligerents.

(Thanks to Jon Bellish for the pointer.)

UPDATE: The defendants seem to be among the folks discussed in today’s Washington Post renditions story:

The three European men with Somali roots were arrested on a murky pretext in August as they passed through the small African country of Djibouti. . . . U.S. agents accused the men — two of them Swedes, the other a longtime resident of Britain — of supporting al-Shabab, an Islamist militia in Somalia that Washington considers a terrorist group. Two months after their arrest, the prisoners were secretly indicted by a federal grand jury in New York, then clandestinely taken into custody by the FBI and flown to the United States to face trial.

In discussions of Kiobel v. Royal Dutch Shell and the Alien Tort Statute, many commentators suggested if the Supreme Court limits corporate liability or extraterritoriality under the ATS, it would eviscerate the statute, and be bad for human rights. More generally, limiting the ATS is thought to serve broadly conservative interests.

These points are only weakly true for the ATS, as I’ll explain below. But more broadly, a limited understanding of the role of universal jurisdiction (UJ) and the Constitution’s Offenses power would have a variety of cross-cutting political valences when applied to other statutes. I have been describing the sources and scope of the constitutional limits on UJ in prior posts. So if reigning in foreign-cubed suits under the ATS can be “scored” as a liberal loss, the logic for doing so would give conservatives a loss under the material support for terrorism law, and both a conservative and liberals loss under the Maritime Drug Law Enforcement Act (but a libertarian win!).

To put it differently, UJ – the exercise of judicial power in foreign-cubed suits – has no inherent political valence; this depends on the norms being universalized. The ATS is one of a few instances of such jurisdiction, and a restriction on it could have several ripples and ramifications in other important contexts.

Moreover, it should be remembered that the ATS itself has other uses besides foreign-cubed suits against companies. Restricting such actions does not make the ATS meaningless, it only stops one particular genre of claims. ATS suits can and have been brought against individual American nationals, even as the new briefs in Kiobel are being written. Also, it should be noted that the ATS suits are not limited to liberal causes, and limiting it could obstruct some more conservative initiatives. Consider two pending ATS suits with rather opposite political valences, none of which involve corporate liability or foreign-cubed situations:

• Japanese whalers are suing Sea Shepherd Conservation Society in federal court for acts of piracy, violations of the SUA Treaty other navigational safety charters. The case raises interesting issues about the availability of injunctions under the ATS, as well as the meaning of “private ends” in the definition of piracy. (H/T: Other Eugene.)

• In recent weeks the Center for Constitutional Rights, which pioneered ATS litigation in Filartiga and many subsequent cases, filed suit against a U.S. preacher for encouraging the Ugandan government to criminalize homosexuality.

An interesting question this case raises is whether the Noerr-Pennington doctrine applies to the ATS generally, and whether it applies extraterritorially. One would think that those who argue corporate liability in ATS cases should be governed by federal common law would find Noerr-Pennington, based as it is on First Amendment considerations, fully applicable in this context. Noerr-Pennington has been extended to a variety of torts and to RICO actions, why not ATS?

One answer could be that antitrust violations are simply not violations when done by governments: indeed, much of what progressive economic policies entail is cartelizing workers and industries. Human rights violations, however, specifically are human rights violations when done by governments. But this just brings us back to the crossroads: do U.S. common law or international norms govern secondary legal issues in ATS cases?

Passover approaches, and with it the end of my rotation here. It has been a pleasure, and thanks to Eugene for having me here.

In my previous post, I argued that the broad interpretation of the Commerce Clause advocated by the government would have the absurd result, when applied to the parallel foreign commerce clause, of allowing Congress to impose mandates on foreigners with no prior contacts with the U.S.

Many commentators fought the hypothetical, saying such a law was stupid, unenforceable, and unlikely, so not a good proof of anything. Two responses. First, one man’s idiotic and unenforceable is another man’s Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, which aside from its merits is itself unlikely (once in a few centuries), and hard to enforce (waivers). Second, arguments from absurd consequences are valid even if the hypothetical law would be ill-advised; indeed, since presumably no one wants absurd consequences, such arguments inherently assume the possibility of legislative error.

A student of mine emailed me to raise a variant hypothetical much closer to home: Can Congress mandate Indians to purchase insurance? They “inevitably” leave their territory at some point in their lives (at least as “inevitably” as the healthy uninsured getting sick), so the arguments would be exactly the same as for the mandate under the Interstate Clause. So why have an Indian Commerce Clause at all? Factual query: does the ACA apply to Indians living on tribal land? (I invite the student to self-identify in the comments.)

Some suggested that Interstate Commerce is regulated “among” the states, whereas foreign and Indian commerce is only “with” other countries or tribes. This could suggest the interstate power is broader: commerce just “among” other nations seems explicitly excluded. But if “among” the states means not actually among but affecting things that are “among,” wouldn’t the same be true of “with”? Again, I think the best reading of the commerce clause is that the interstate power is broader. But the ACA makes this distinction hard to sustain, and that is a criticism of the mandate not the commerce clause text.

One aspect of the ACA litigation that has not received due attention is the effect of the Court’s ruling on the scope Foreign Commerce Clause. An expansive, limitless definition of the scope of “Commerce” would presumably apply to Foreign Commerce as well. If there is no limiting principle for the former, it would be hard to have a limiting principle for the latter.

Under the logic of the government’s approach, Congress could regulate or mandate transactions purely between foreigners with no direct U.S. nexus. This is because these foreigners could have – should have! – engaged in transactions with the U.S instead. Purely foreign transactions affect the price of things in the U.S. If insurance would be cheaper if more people bought it, the same could be said about American cars. It makes no difference if the recalcitrant non-purchaser is foreign or domestic. Can the Japanese be required to buy U.S. cars? Certainly such a law would be closely related a major economic sector, as defenders of the ACA like to put it. (I am of course holding aside issues of enforceability to focus on the Commerce power.)

Or consider a rationale closer to the ACA case. If the mandate falls within Interstate Commerce, why not Foreign Commerce as well? Just as health people may get sick while uninsured, foreigners might come to the U.S. uninsured. At the time they come, no doubt Congress could require purchasing insurance as part of its Immigration powers. But by then it could be too late, they could be sick not insurable. So could Congress require foreigners to buy insurance or broccoli prior to coming to America on the theory that they might at some point come to America? Foreigners from countries where a sizable percentage visit the U.S.? Foreigners who have visited the U.S. in the past?

It is ironic that the liberal interpretation of the Commerce power would allow American exceptionalism and give Congress regulatory powers in excess of what would be allowed by international law. On the other hand, it is hard to doctrinally cabin disrespect for the domestic division of sovereignty from disrespect for the international division of sovereignty.

In Kiobel, the ATS case I have been blogging about, the Supreme Court has shown some skepticism about broad extraterritorial assertions of U.S. law (based proximately on statutory, not constitutional concerns, though in my forthcoming paper, I argue the Offenses Clause of the constitution and foreign commerce clause underpins the statutory issue. The justices might want to consider that a ruling for the government in the ACA case would open a whole world of extraterritorial legislation.

In Schecter Poultry, Justice Cardozo famously wrote:

Here is a view of causation that would obliterate the distinction between what is national and what is local in the activities of commerce. Motion at the outer rim is communicated perceptibly, though minutely, to recording instruments at the center.

The point here is the “periphery” is not just internal; the periphery is also the world. That which obliterates the distinction between the local and national also tends to obliterate the distinction between global and national.

One of the peculiarities of the Alien Tort Statute is its mix of cosmopolitan conceptions of justice with American exceptionalism. Under the ATS the U.S. has been the only nation in the world allowing for universal jurisdiction (“UJ”) in civil suits. So while enforcing international law has been the justification for these suits, it has been a mode of enforcement otherwise unseen around the world.

That changed a tiny bit today with a precedent-setting decision in the Netherlands, that awarded damages in a UJ civil suit brought by a Palestinian man against Libyan officials for torture that took place in Libya – the notorious and bizarre fraudulent persecution of foreign medical workers for infecting patients with AIDs. (And this is when Qaddafi could still be seen in polite company.)

So what does this ruling mean for the ATS, and particularly the extraterritoriality issue to be argued in Kiobel? At first, it would seem to bolster the plaintiff’s case, by making civil UJ seem (very marginally) less anomalous. But it also cuts the other way, perhaps more strongly. The argument that there is no other forum where these serious wrongs can be redressed has underpinned broad notions of the ATS, both with regards to UJ extraterritoriality and corporate liability. Now, the danger of “impunity” has abated. Now a federal judge must now ask in a UJ ATS case – why wasn’t it brought in Holland? What if Holland is actually physically closer to the conduct (as in Kiobel)? Isn’t Holland where all the international lawyers are? Does plaintiff’s presumptive choice of forum apply to UJ cases?

Finally, the Libyan defendants were all sued as individuals (because of sovereign immunity), suggesting an absence of entity liability (like corporate liability) does not make a nullity of international justice and human rights litigation.

UPDATE: This just gets better. I was just reminded (courtesty of twitter, see @EVKontorovich) that the Dutch strongly opposed the exercise of UJ in ATS cases, filing an amicus brief in Kiobel that said:

[T]he lower courts appear to have gone further than the established jurisprudence allows. .. the lower courts have both asserted jurisdiction with regard to a wider category of such violations, and in relation to facts in which a “sufficiently close connection” to the U.S. is entirely absent.

I would think the Dutch ruling would greatly weaken the usefulness of the Dutch/British amicus briefs to the Kiobel defendants. It is particularly embarrassing that the defendant is Royal Dutch Shell – apparently Holland knows “can dish it out, but ...can’t take it no more,” to quote Edward G. Robinson’s Rico character. This all underscores a broader point about UJ – there are several cases of nations exercising UJ, but very few of them submitting to it uncomplainingly.

Lets take a break from the ACA to think about the federal government’s power to to deal with matters that have no connection to the U.S., an issue the Court will take up when it hears the expanded arguments in Kiobel, the ATS case.

Yesterday I talked about how the ATS extraterritoriality at issue in Kiobel is really something rarer and more extreme: universality. Thus the analysis starts with the classic universal crime and obscure constitutional provision – Piracy, which has gotten significant play in the courts of appeals’ extraterritoriality cases like Doe v. Exxon and Rio Tinto (as well as in the Kiobel oral arguments on corporate liability). Because Sosa held that piracy would be actionable under the ATS, it is clear that the battle over extraterritoriality in Kiobel will be a naval engagement. It is true that piracy occurs extraterritorially, and under the current piracy statute, can be prosecuted even with no connection to the U.S. But proponents of foreign-cubed draw precisely the wrong inferences from piracy’s exceptional status.

Piracy is not just any international crime: it has its own separate constitutional provision: Congress can punish “piracies and felonies on the high seas, and Offenses against the law of nations.” Thus whatever is true of “piracy” is not necessarily true of other “Offenses” that can be reached under the ATS: these are separate, though related, Art. I powers. The Constitution’s singling out of piracy is striking and demands explanation, because it creates a double-redundancy. Does anything make piracy different from other high seas felonies and international law offenses? Yes: it was the only universally cognizable offense at the time.

Starting with this textual observation, I have explained that Congress can at most only use universal jurisdiction over offenses that clearly have that status in international law (see The “Define and Punish” Clause and the Limits of Universal Jurisdiction, 103 NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY LAW REVIEW 149 (2009)). There is evidence for this not just in the structure of the clause, but in grand jury instructions of Wilson and Story, the pronouncements of Marshall, and important judicial and Congressional precedents from the early Republic. For example, in U.S. v. Furlong, the Supreme Court in 1820 found that a statute that purported to punish “murder” by “any person” on the high seas does not apply universally because it is not a UJ crime.

Because murder was not universally cognizable, such “an offense committed by a foreign upon a foreign ship” is a matter in which “Congress ha[s] nor right to interfere.” The Court suggested this limitation was Constitutional, noting such universal regulation would exceed “the punishing powers of the body the enacted it,” i.e. go beyond the Define and Punish clause. Or as Marshall put it in 1800: “[T]he people of the United States have no jurisdiction over offenses committed on board a foreign ship against a foreign nation. Of consequence, in framing a Government for themselves, they cannot have passed this jurisdiction to that Government.”

Congress’s failure to Define
Courts in ATS cases have usually skipped the UJ question entirely. As I show in my forthcoming paper, Discretion, Delegation and Defining in the Constitution’s Offenses Clause, 106 NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY LAW REVIEW __ (2012), when Congress exercises its power to “Define” an offence, it gets some degree of deference about the content of the offense, as well as its UJ status. Congress did not “Define” in the ATS, but rather broadly delegated to the courts. Courts do not enjoy any special discretion to “Define.” In the absence of congressional definition, courts must stick closely to well-established international precedent on universal cognizability, an effort they have not even attempted. This is not just because Sosa’s requirements; rather, the Offenses Clause requires it. Indeed, the plurality in Hamdan case rejected conspiracy to commit war crimes because there were no precisely on-point international precedents, a demanding standard equally applicable to the universal cognizability of ATS offenses. Ironically, conservatives favored a loose approach to finding international norms in Hamdan and liberals a highly restrained one; the roles here are gain reversed.

Furthermore, a statute’s mere reference to international law in the ATS does not automatically trigger UJ. Indeed, in U.S. v. Palmer, Chief Justice Marshall read a statute criminalizing “piracy” by “any person” as requiring a U.S. nexus, even though it was clear that Congress could constitutionally apply it universally. The fact that Congress quickly acted to override this construction does not disprove the existence of the presumption as applied to international law offenses: one point of presumptions is to put the burden of clarity on Congress, and this is even more so in foreign relations issues.

[Cross-posted on OpinioJuris]

[Cross-posted on OpinioJuris]

The new issue in Kiobel is not mere extraterritoriality, but rather universality. There are constitutional limits on universal jurisdiction (UJ); at most it can only be used for those “Piracies” and “Offenses” that have UJ status in international law. But Congress has not “defined” any offenses in the ATS. It delegated the task to the courts, but the courts must use this mandate narrowly and cautiously, as the “Define” power was given to Congress precisely because international law was too “deficient and vague” to be a common law rule.

Lower courts have discussed the application of the Alien Tort Statute to so-called “foreign-cubed” cases – where the parties are foreigners and the conduct takes place abroad – as a matter of extraterritoriality, a term that suggests the presumption of statutory construction against extraterritorial application. While there is a presumption against extraterritoriality, the application of U.S. law to conduct abroad is not uncommon. Yet even the most controversial or aggressive use of extraterritoriality typically involves the regulation of American conduct abroad, or at least conduct that has substantial effects in American or on particularly American interests. But this is not the extraterritoriality of Kiobel, which like many ATS cases have no connection to the U.S. whatsoever. Such universally extraterritorial scope is certainly only found in the face of the clearest statement of congressional intent, such as in the unusual Maritime Drug Law Enforcement Act.

Universal jurisdiction, of the kind asserted in Kiobel, is exceedingly rare and poses much greater problems than mere extraterritoriality. It raises the question of where the federal government, supposedly one of limited powers internally, gets the authority to regulate conduct with no domestic nexus, and have federal courts sit as little world courts.

As shall be seen, Supreme Court precedents clearly apply presumptions of extraterritoriality to statutes dealing with international law violations, even universal ones. Some have argued that the Supreme Court implicitly OK’d ATS extraterritoriality in Sosa v. Alvarez-Machain, its previous major encounter with the statute. Sosa itself involved conduct in Mexico –but it was the abduction from that country by the D.E.A. and its local contractors of a man involved in torturing a federal agent to death, so that he could stand trial in the U.S. Foreign-cubed that is not: few cases could have a tighter nexus with America.

In the oral arguments on corporate liability, Justice Ginsburg suggested that Sosa OK’d extraterritoriality by citing favorably Filartiga, the break-out 1980 Second Circuit case that turned to the ATS into a tool for human rights litigation. Sosa quoted Filartiga’s famous analogy between modern human rights UJ and its precursors: “the torturer has become-like the pirate and slave trader before him – hostis humani generis, an enemy of all mankind [a phrase that was law of nations shorthand for piracy’s universal cognizability].” Never mind that piracy serves as poor model for modern UJ; Sosa’s quote from Filartiga is hardly decisive. The issue was not before the Court, and secondly, it could be that the ATS allows for UJ for a few norms like torture, but perhaps not for others like extrajudicial killing.

Today the Supreme Court takes on the scope of the Commerce Clause in the historic healthcare cases. The case raises the question of whether there are any substantive limits to the federal government’s domestic regulatory power. But another case soon to be (re)argued before the Court, Kiobel v. Royal Dutch Shell, manages to raise an even broader question: Are there any substantive limits to the federal government’s power to regulate matters occurring outside and having nothing do with the United States? Surprisingly, the latter question has not been generally regarded as a constitutional one.

The Supreme Court has expanded the issues under consideration in Kiobel, originally about corporate liability under the Alien Tort Statute, to include the extraterritorial application of the law. Like corporate liability, extraterritoriality had for decades just been assumed by the lower courts hearing ATS cases: now it will be fully explored.

This series of posts, also cross-posted on OpinioJuris, will focus on the constitutional/federal courts issues involved, and of course explore the early piracy precedents of the Supreme Court to get traction on the issues. In short: before thinking about the ATS, one must consider the constitutional basis for universal jurisdiction – which is quite narrow. Furthermore, there a some good reasons derived both from the constitution and precedent for interpreting the ATS narrowly, as not exercising whatever UJ power the federal government does have.

Before turning to the merits, it is amusing to note the strange bedfellows ATS doctrine makes. The litigation and accompanying academic debate over the meaning and scope of the Alien Tort Statute has been a marvel of surprising ideological transpositions, and more reversals of traditional roles than All’s Well That Ends Well. On the issue of corporate liability, liberals (crudely speaking) urge the Court look to parochial U.S. law, and conservatives (still crudely speaking) favor the adoption of a rule from international law and practice. Then the Court asks for new arguments on extraterritoriality. Now the conservatives point to U.S. law – the judge-made presumption against extraterritoriality – and liberals point to the international status of the offenses. It is like a game of Twister.

Neither position is fully correct. There may be a place for extraterritoriality in ATS cases, but in a much narrower class of cases then where it is currently applied. The next few posts draw on much of my prior work, and I hope the reader forgives me not recapitulating the entire argument of those articles in these posts.