Charting a way forward? Post-juristocracy, democratic decay, and the limits of Gardbaum’s valuable theory

Abstract

Gardbaum’s comparative political process theory (CPPT) arrives at an odd juncture in world history. Positing a role for courts to remedy representative democracy’s defects, especially given the ascendance of authoritarian populism, it was completed just before the global COVID-19 pandemic hit and places courts center-stage just when they have suddenly receded into the background. Exceptions include the US Supreme Court’s refusal to extend the deadline for absentee ballots in the Wisconsin presidential primary on April 7, 2020—decried by Justice Bader Ginsburg as generating “massive disenfranchisement.”1 Even before the pandemic, it appeared increasingly untenable to cleave to a view of courts as strong bulwarks for threatened democratic systems. A growing literature frames the US Supreme Court as degrading democracy due to the substance of its decisions, not the mere fact that it enjoys constitutional supremacy.2 The Constitutional Tribunal has been captured and pressed into service as a “government enabler” in Poland.3 The Israeli government is said to have retained the “judicial revolution” empowering the courts while rolling back its liberal dimensions.4 The Indian Supreme Court has appeared more interested in self-preservation than guarding the democratic system threatened by Modi, and has undermined the functioning of parliament.5 It is a profoundly different global reality compared to just a decade ago, when the international juggernaut of juristocracy still seemed unstoppable. We are potentially entering the era of “post-juristocracy,” where courts’ decades-long accretion of governance power—and the accompanying obsession with, and faith in, courts—is waning. While courts remain a core preoccupation, many in the global comparative constitutional law community seemed to be moving on to new obsessions, such as political parties, citizens’ assemblies, and other deliberative innovations.6 Yet, Gardbaum’s theory remains acutely relevant. The pandemic has laid barer than ever deficiencies in governance worldwide and re-emphasized the centrality of effective political processes to what Schmitter calls “real-existing democracy.”7 As recent high-profile cases attest, courts play an irreplaceable role in supporting the role of other systemic actors—not least the UK Supreme Court’s stunning riposte to the government’s prorogation of Parliament.8 Gardbaum’s theory presents a laudable project to go beyond zero-sum, excessively abstracted debates on judicial review’s democratic legitimacy, and a patchwork of single-country analyses, by crafting a framework for understanding how courts worldwide can offer a targeted democracy-supporting role. This article responds to Gardbaum’s theory on the theoretical and empirical planes. Section 2 addresses how CPPT relates to existing theories not addressed in his account. Section 3 addresses contextual factors that complicate, frustrate, and limit the application of his theory. The main argument is that CPPT can be more fully integrated with existing frameworks, and that the assumed universality of its application should be reconsidered against today’s global reality. In constructing his theory Gardbaum draws, beyond Ely, on the work of theorists such as Sam Issacharoff, but does not engage with a range of relevant frameworks.9 This section places his account in a fuller context, drawing out its connections and resonances with existing theories. First, a brief summary. Gardbaum’s theory builds on Ely’s “participation-oriented, representation-reinforcing” approach to judicial review across three dimensions: (i) expanding Ely’s binary focus on incumbents’ suppression of democratic participation and systematic disempowerment of minorities to encompass additional malfunctions, including legislative failure to hold government accountable, executive capture of independent institutions, special interests’ capture of the political process, and outright dysfunction of one or multiple institutions; (ii) shifting the focus from outputs (especially legislation) to process; and (iii) seeking a more universal theory than Ely’s “self-consciously parochial” approach. For Gardbaum, like Ely, policing against erosion and distortion of the political process cannot be left to the elected branches alone, as vividly underscored in today’s era of “abusive constitutionalism” where the primary targets of errant executives are the structures of democratic government, rather than rights, and where policing legislation alone will leave much dysfunction and manipulation unremedied. CPPT seeks to provide a framework for grouping together issues that may otherwise not be analyzed as variants of the same problem, and a standard for when courts should intervene. For Gardbaum, courts should assist the democratic system to function “as it is supposed to,” support the functioning of other systemic actors and guard institutional pluralism, block attempts to stymie deliberation, contain and prevent manipulation (even if it cannot be fully remedied), and do so through a mix of mostly weak-form review, but also strong-form review when necessary: policing electoral processes and rules; lawmaking processes; mechanisms for executive accountability between elections; and rules and procedures of the executive and legislative branches, and the administrative state more widely. This departs from Gardbaum’s long-held position focused exclusively on weak-form review as the best universal option, allowing courts to adjudicate boldly and guard the coherence of the constitution without antagonizing the other branches, raising the risk of political attacks, and undermining the principle of judicial independence.10 The return to Ely’s theory, as well as moving past the longstanding US debate between interpretivists and non-interpretivists, serves to reanimate the well-worn debate hammered out in the context of long-established Western democracies, where the Waldronian and Dworkinian camps for and against strong judicial review (i.e. the ability to strike down legislation, and judicial supremacy more broadly) had argued to a stalemate by the early 2000s. Gardbaum’s theory also resonates with a parallel debate encompassing a broader suite of theories on judicial roles in young and Global South democracies which, as explained in Section 2, has increasing relevance to all democracies in the era of global “democratic decay.” This debate can be characterized as containing five principal, partially overlapping, arguments: Gardbaum’s “weak review” argument, discussed above, and what may be dubbed the “mirror,” “Global South,” “surrogate,” and “scaffolding” arguments.11 The “mirror” argument holds that constitutional courts in young democracies should approximate the role carried out by courts in mature democracies; playing an active part in democratic governance, but acting strategically to avoid addressing matters that will trench unduly upon other government branches’ sphere of action. For Sadurski and Ginsburg, discussing younger democracies in Europe and Asia, the main contribution courts can make is protecting rights,12 and constraining state authority.13 Ginsburg suggests caution is warranted regarding intervention “on core issues of the political process,” albeit in the context of extreme cases in Mongolia, South Korea, and Thailand concerning impeachment, the formation of government, and appointment of the prime minister.14 Daniel Bonilla Maldonado has argued that the jurisprudence of non-Western constitutional courts, including the Colombian and Indian apex courts’ assumption of more expansive governance functions across both substance and process, should be viewed as a legitimate “constitutionalism of the Global South” constructed in response to starkly different socio-political contexts and governance challenges—including political violence, high rates of poverty and inequality, cultural and religious diversity, and “consolidation of the rule of law”—which should not be discounted simply because it departs from the approaches taken by leading Western apex courts.15 The “surrogate” argument pushed this logic to the extreme, contending that courts could drive democratic development where the existing political party and wider political systems are unequal to the task. Scheppele described the stunningly assertive role of the Hungarian Constitutional Court in the 1990s as “democracy by judiciary.”16 The Court not only intervened strongly regarding outputs—striking down a third of all laws passed by parliament in its first six years, for instance—but also weighed heavily in the legislative process, especially by issuing advisory opinions during parliamentary deliberations and ordering the legislature to enact laws mandated by the Constitution.17 Approaching the “separation of powers as a contact sport,” the Court assumed an expansively interventionist role.18 The “scaffolding” argument adopts a much more targeted approach, focused on actively mitigating the worst deficiencies of young democracies and preventing elected organs from overwhelming the basic structure of democratic governance. For Issacharoff, in states such as South Africa, where the democratic transition leads to single-party dominance, the courts’ central role—which constitutes legitimate intervention in the political process—is protecting the “vitality of democratic competition for electoral office and the ability of the political process to dislodge incumbents”; to prevent the transition souring into a new autocracy through hobbling of the opposition, partisan capture of all state power, and control of elections and the media.19 Courts thereby shore up the “weakness of not only political institutions, but the ancillary civil-society participants in democratic life”—especially political parties.20 In the Latin American context, Gargarella’s concept of “democratic justice” has similarly argued for targeted judicial assertiveness, especially to counter excessive concentration of power through hyperpresidentialism.21 My own position aligns with the scaffolding argument, on the basis that it respects the principle of popular government, avoids the trap of overloading courts, provides a sense of core mission, and expects courage when fundamental democratic functioning is at stake—not merely staying within the political branches’ “tolerance levels.”22 More recently, David Prendergast has revisited Ely’s theory in arguing for a “suitably restrained” judicial approach to protecting any kind of democracy from populism, through specific, modulated, and often prophylactic intervention in political processes “to correct them when they have gone awry and to help prevent them going awry in the first place,” by policing the fairness of processes and procedures, and upholding institutional pluralism.23 Placed within this broader theoretical landscape, Gardbaum’s theory clearly pursues a scaffolding argument in its delineation of a sphere of robust judicial intervention without according courts uncabined discretion. However, he augments existing frameworks by providing a more granular theory of how targeted intervention may play out in practice, and the issues it would address. Gardbaum’s self-consciously global theory provides an illuminating analytical lens for a variety of states. It adds to our understanding of the UK Supreme Court’s reasoning in its prorogation judgment that judicial intervention “will not offend against . . . [but] be giving effect to the separation of powers.”24 It provides a clear framework for judicial protection of representative democracy in states still considered to enjoy good governance and independent courts—the Canadas, Germanies, and South Koreas of the world—as well as states in which, despite significant challenges, the democratic system has not degraded beyond targeted judicial intervention, such as South Africa. It may be instructive for states undergoing democratic transition, such as the Gambia, where both draft constitutions envisage a rather powerful supreme court.25 However, in the global climate of democratic decay, various factors complicate and limit CPPT’s universal application. Recall here that Waldron’s core argument against strong judicial review made a distinction between “well-functioning democracies” and other states. For Waldron, in the former—with adequately functioning representative and judicial organs, most officials and citizens committed to the idea of individual and minority rights, and “persisting, substantial and good faith disagreement” concerning the implications and meaning of such rights commitments—strong judicial review cannot be justified.26 In the latter, by implication, more extensive judicial action might be justified, suggesting the democratic legitimacy of judicial review, and its ambit, is context-sensitive. Of course, Waldron never specified what states counted as well functioning, but we could surmise his inner circle as comprising Global North democracies in North America and northern Europe, and perhaps states such as Japan and Costa Rica. The “parallel debate” on young and Global South democracies discussed in Section 2, while interesting from a comparative angle, was intuited to be of limited relevance to well-functioning democracies. The global phenomenon of democratic decay has significantly softened this dividing line. With many long-established democracies experiencing authoritarian populist leadership, dysfunctional governance, weakened parliaments, hyper-partisanship, sweeping negative transformation of the political-party system, and society-wide polarization, the parallel debate has become more broadly relevant.27 The pandemic has revealed this political dysfunction in its most alarming detail: Scheppele, for instance, has described the Trump administration as acting like the government of an “(almost) failed state.”28 However, this is not an argument for untrammeled expansion of judicial power. Indeed, even with the most independent, learned, perceptive, and strategically nimble court, the assumption of an overweening tutelary role could never be justified in democratic terms: indeed, arguments casting Brazil’s Supreme Court as a “moderating power” beyond the reach of any democratic control, as a response to the perceived failures of democratic politics, have been sharply criticized.29 Yet, even within the narrower confines of CPPT, it is contested that the current US Supreme Court could meet its apparent starting preconditions of independence, impartiality, and institutional legitimacy. Responding to the Kavanaugh nomination debacle, Epstein and Posner have offered that the Court, “[f]or the first time in living memory, . . . will be seen by the public as a party-dominated institution, one whose votes on controversial issues are essentially determined by the party affiliation of recent presidents.”30 Recent decisions have fueled the arguments of both the Court’s supporters and detractors: the landmark six-to-three judgment of June 15, confirming that the antidiscrimination protections of Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 apply to gay and transgender workers, can be argued as proof of its independence;31 while just two weeks later a judgment significantly freeing the President’s power to remove senior officials in the executive branch has raised serious fears.32 Many see the rot as much deeper than the Kavanaugh era, perceiving the Court as, not just a victim of authoritarian populist leaders, but itself an engine of democratic decay, having starkly degraded the structural functioning of the democratic system—including its watershed 2010 Citizens United decision on campaign financing and its weak response to gerrymandering.33 This view sees the present as merely a continuation, albeit intensified, of past practice—including the Court’s refusal to extend the deadline for absentee ballots in Wisconsin’s presidential primary in April 2020, which left citizens in the position of pitting their health and lives against exercising their democratic rights.34 Greenhouse described the decision as an exercise in “raw partisanship,”35 while Justice Bader Ginsburg’s dissent characterized the majority’s judgment as not only permitting “massive disenfranchisement” but endangering “the health of the Nation.”36 What might have happened with a stronger decision in line with CPPT? Had the Court extended the date for absentee ballots, raising the risk of a Republican loss and setting a precedent that could vastly transform the electorate for the November presidential elections, might it have unleashed serious political attacks—or even non-compliance? With increasing political pressure on courts, claims of absolute presidential power, and denial of the existence of any objective institution outside the realm of partisan contestation,37 we have strayed far from the “waspish civilities”38 of yesteryear, where (despite serious deficiencies in the democratic system) US governments could still be trusted to comply with rulings they bitterly opposed. Yet, it is not merely about this government. Perhaps more problematic is that CPPT tends to characterize problems as isolated, aberrant, or limited malfunctions, when the US political process as a whole faces multiple deeply rooted challenges arguably beyond judicial remedy. For instance, in response to the Supreme Court’s 2019 decision in Rucho v. Common Cause39 that partisan gerrymandering is “incompatible with democratic principles” but non-justiciable, Levinson argued that even adopting Justice Kagan’s (minority) solution would not have provided “a genuine cure for what ails us as a political system.” The only remedy would be for a democratic movement to “rise up” and push for a constitutional convention.40 Even this may be insufficient. Gardbaum’s framing of the 2017 tax law, for example, as an instance of “undue influence and corruption of the lawmaking process”41 elides the structural symbiosis of Americans for Prosperity (AFP) and the Republican Party, which blurs the division between the two, and leaves a form of “shadow party” in place, distorting the political process, which even constitutional reform would not address.42 That said, even if CPPT faces clear limitations, it remains a valuable yardstick. For instance, we can see the legitimacy of the Polish Supreme Court’s pushback against government and (captured) Constitutional Tribunal actions to end judicial independence as the institutional at the core of the democratic system by In the Gardbaum’s theory may more robust protection where degraded democracies courts as a central for threatened democracies, recent have been a reality about how we might reform courts, or even democratic through institutional However, as global juristocracy its we also guard against out the with the is any from the recent it is to avoid of any as courts never as or as they have so often been the is not While CPPT deeper about the of universal theories of judicial review, or at least the to more up their limitations, for to the democratic role of courts in our constitutional or more theory, a for courts to in guarding us all on which to and