The Roundtable
Welcome to the Roundtable, a forum for incisive commentary and analysis
on cases and developments in law and the legal system.
on cases and developments in law and the legal system.
 By Rachel Pomerantz Rachel Pomerantz is a sophomore at the University of Pennsylvania studying mathematical economics. For anyone who grew up learning about the legislative process through the Schoolhouse Rock! song “I’m Just a Bill,” it might seem that contention over whether certain policies should be implemented and how they should be enforced in American society ends with the president’s decision to sign or veto the bill (save for the possible veto override vote or legal action in court). However, the action has just begun once a bill becomes a law. Though little understood, the current way in which regulatory processes are created in effect disincentivizes citizen participation while favoring interest groups that do not represent the general population. First, a primer on what happens after a bill becomes a law: Agencies will initially submit an“Advanced Notice of Proposed Rulemaking” and a “Notice of Proposed Rulemaking,” which are then open to the public to comment upon for a specified amount of time. [1] Then, the agency will decide on the rules they wish to implement. The Office of the Federal Register (OFR) dictates what factors and interests an agency may consider in creating a rule.
0 Comments
 By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a rising sophomore at the University of Pennsylvania Louis XIV once said, “Laws are the sovereigns of sovereigns.” No matter who you are, the law applies to you. But that is not an automatic process: Judges and justices oversee the judicial process along and are crucial stewards of the impartiality of that process. Over the past few months, the court of public opinion considered two cases that pondered the judgement of the judges making decisions. On the one hand, politicians began the familiar dance of distancing themselves from presumptive Republican nominee Donald Trump’s recent spat of word vomit: In relation to the class-action lawsuit against Trump University, a for-profit company that defrauded thousands of customers, Donald Trump accused the judge presiding over the case, Gonzalo Curiel, of biasing his decisions (or, in Trump vernacular, of being “a hater of Donald Trump”) because he is Mexican. [1]  By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a rising sophomore at the University of Pennsylvania. Ben Franklin famously said, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” While the existence of taxes is certainly a certainty, how much you will pay is anything but. Taxes are but one of the many areas that the issue of inflation impacts at both a federal and state level. The federal government and some state governments adjust monetary amounts to compensate for inflation. As defined by the Bureau of Labor Statistics, inflation is “a process of continuously rising prices or equivalently falling value of money.” [1] For example, if the annual inflation rate is 5%, then $100 in one year is worth the same amount as $105 the next year. Since most countries formulate public policy to combat positive inflation, policymakers are thus concerned with combatting the decreasing value of money it causes.  By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. When the Supreme Court protected voting rights in Evenwel v. Abbott, they protected the rights of many at-risk communities. However, the current eight-person bench dealt a blow to one group in particular: the Project on Fair Representation, a small but powerful legal defense fund based out of Texas. They describe themselves as supporting “litigation that challenges racial and ethnic classifications and preferences in state and federal courts.” [1] However, upon closer analysis, their name and description are not entirely accurate. Their primary goal is to eradicate radical race-based preferences such as provisions of the Voting Rights Act, affirmative action, and congressional districts drawn to ensure minority groups can be heard in the political process. Furthermore, the use of “they/their” as pronouns for this group is also inaccurate; the Project on Fair Representation is made up of one man who has no legal or scholarly education, not to mention a law degree: Edward Blum.  By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. June 26, 2015 was a momentous day for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) rights activists. The Supreme Court handed down its decision in Obergefell v. Hodges, striking down bans on same-sex marriage across the country. [1] The steps of the Supreme Court and social media pages were filled with pictures and filters of joyous celebration and relief. What does this mean? Can activists and allies pack up their bags and go home to enjoy their newfound rights? Surely, the days of relegating Americans to second class citizenship on the basis of sexual orientation are over. Wrong.  By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. Since Saturday, February 13, one federal judicial vacancy has dominated all news circles, both judicial and lay: the Supreme Court seat held by conservative lion, Antonin Scalia. However, the number of federal judicial vacancies at the district and appeals court level represents a growing crisis that has flown under the radar and will become even more significant due to the vacancy on the highest court in the land. Simply put, there is an unacceptable number of empty seats on federal benches. There are 81 current vacancies, one-third of which have lasted for more than 18 months. In fact, the Judicial Conference, the policy-making arm of the federal courts, has designated 31 of these vacancies as “judicial emergencies.” [1] The system is designed to have a certain number of judges, not empty seats for years on end.  By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. Politicians slap the label of “judicial activism” on any court case that does not agree with their ideologies. Both recently and historically, conservatives have been quite vocal in criticizing the court for making decisions based on personal opinion over the law. Liberal rulings on issues ranging from abortion to criminal justice are swiftly followed by calls to curtail judges run amok who are legislating from the bench. [1] After the Supreme Court legalized gay marriage nationally this past summer, instead of debating the virtues of the decision, those on the political right decried the political motivations of the “five unelected justices.” [2] Republican presidential candidate Senator Ted Cruz called for judicial retention elections as a “means for throwing off judicial tyrants.” [3] Chief Justice John Roberts, a conservative appointed to the court by President George W. Bush, stated that the court’s decision was based in the morals of the majority justices and not the Constitution. [4] While it may be tempting to point to conservatives as the sole perpetrators of this political accusation, the pendulum swings both ways. After the Supreme Court virtually made the final decision that a Republican would occupy the White House in Bush v. Gore (2000), liberals began to find their own language to argue for judicial restraint. More recently, in 2012, while still reeling from their loss in the Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission (2010) and facing the possibility of the court castrating the Affordable Care Act, liberal voices proposed the following reforms: packing the court (harkening back to FDR’s battle with the third branch of federal government), setting term limits, and requiring a “6-3 supermajority for overturning an act of Congress.” [5]  By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. A basic role of criminal legal codes is to define illegal, or societally unacceptable, behaviors. The prohibition of murder is one of the most basic examples of this. Surprisingly, the German legal code currently does not define the act of murder, but instead states that a murderer is, “someone who causes the death of another person out of certain specified unacceptable motives, such as ‘murderous lust’ or the satisfaction of sexual desires, ‘greed or otherwise base motives,’ through treacherous or cruel methods or in order to cover up another crime.” [1] Someone convicted of murder, or Mord, must receive a life sentence. In the same section, Tötung, a crime that loosely translates to manslaughter, is described as murder without the aforementioned motives and carries a minimum sentence of 5 years. It does not describe murder as an unjust act but instead as certain acts that reveal someone’s defective character. Yes, this phrasing seems odd and out of line with most modern legal definitions of murder. In fact, the origins of the definition reinforce this anomaly in the German legal system. The current definition of murder was written in 1941 by the infamous Nazi judge Roland Freisler. [2] After the war, the definition was accepted by West Germany while, like most European countries, East Germany defined murder in terms of an action. Upon reunification, the Nazi language applied to the entirety of Germany. [3]  By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. Donald Trump, the billionaire real estate mogul and Penn alum currently leading in the Republican primary polls, has focused on immigration as a main issue of his campaign. Specifically, he has drawn his attention to ending the phenomenon of “anchor babies.” [1] Derided by immigration advocates as derogatory, this term usually refers to the American-born children of those immigrants in the United States who do not possess visas or green cards. Since these children are born on American soil, they receive citizenship automatically and, upon turning 21, can help their parents gain legal status. [2] The legal heart of this situation is the concept of birthright citizenship, which is guaranteed by the 14th Amendment to the Constitution. The so-called “citizenship clause” of Section 1 states, “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” [3] Though not originally devised with immigration in mind, Section 1 contains a fascinating legislative history.  By Rachel Pomerantz
Rachel Pomerantz is a rising freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. In the 24 states where Republicans control both the legislature and governorship, the casual political observer might expect consensus on important legislative initiatives. [1] However, no such consensus exists in Raleigh, North Carolina, where disagreement between the legislature and the governorship has led to the case currently being decided by the state Supreme Court in McCrory v. Berger. The case began when the state legislature established the Coal Ash Management Commission in the aftermath of the 2014 coal ash spill into the Dan River from a retired Duke Energy power plant. [2] The legislature gave itself the power to appoint the majority of the members of the commission, just as it did for the Oil and Gas Commission and Mining Commission. Joined by former North Carolina governors James Hunt and James Martin, Republican Governor Pat McCrory sued the Republican-controlled General Assembly in part because the legislature tasked itself with appointing people to these commissions that perform “executive functions.” [3] A three judge panel sided with the governors in March, and the North Carolina Supreme Court heard the case on appeal earlier this summer. [4] |
