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 Thomas Cribbins
Thomas Cribbins is a junior at the University of Michigan studying political science. From the very beginning, Americans have been wary of the power of the federal government. The Framers tried to hedge this concern by creating a “government of laws, not men.”. [1] The Federalist Papers echo reassurance to pre-Constitutional America by promising to protect the government from ambitious, self-interested politicians and factions. [2] In Federalist 45, Madison again addressed the fears of an almighty central government by announcing: “The powers delegated by the proposed Constitution to the federal government are few and defined. Those which are to remain in the State governments are numerous and indefinite.” [3] However, the federal government’s power has certainly expanded in the intervening centuries, particularly in the last few decades. Pushing the limits of the enumerated powers has employed many people in and outside the federal government. However, the issue stems when stretching an enumerated power cannot get the job done. What is Congress, the President or any other part of the federal government to do when the puzzle simply will not come together? This brings to the curious case of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, the Supreme Court case Missouri v. Holland (1920), and what seems to amount to the new powers the federal government assumed because they were granted by Canada. Until 1918, states were granted almost all authority over the taking of game animals within their state.In turn, every state had radically different ideas about game management and this dynamic generated a moral hazard with several states competing to take a larger share of game. This included inflating bag limits to prevent more southern states from being able to take a larger share of the waterfowl or other migratory birds that routinely crossed state lines. [4] Congress decided to stop the madness and protect the common-pool resource that the states all intended to desecrate. The result was the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, a treaty with Canada that granted the Secretary of the Interior the broad, redundant and superfluous powers to regulate migratory birds. The treaty was eventually signed onto by Mexico, Russia and Japan, but the point still remains: who said Congress or the federal government at large should be in charge of regulating migratory birds? [5] Who even said they should have any part at all?
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 By Thomas Cribbins
Thomas Cribbins is a junior at the University of Michigan studying political science. The terms “national forest” and “national park,” usually evoke pleasant summer memories or, at the very least, a postcard-worthy image. That’s how the overwhelming majority of us think about public lands. For a select few, however, they provide an impenetrable haven from law enforcement in which to perpetrate crime. That is why the federal government employs specialized law enforcement officers to protect these unique lands. However, the U.S. House’s Local Enforcement for Local Lands Act of 2016 jeopardizes all federal policing of Forest Service (USFS) and Bureau of Land Management (BLM) lands. This is a terrible, terrible idea. The bill, if passed, would completely eliminate the law enforcement divisions of the USFS and BLM agencies. The gap in spending would then be allocated to the states or directly to the local government specifically for law enforcement of federal lands. The money would be allocated based on the percentage of all federal land contained in that state or locality, with an exception for highly visited areas. I at least applaud that small, plastic policy exception. The federal government also retains the right to investigate crimes on its own lands. Other than that, there must be reporting of how the grant money was spent. [1]  By Thomas Cribbins
Thomas Cribbins is a junior at the University of Michigan studying political science. Public corruption stories are fascinating. With TV shows, movies and a general pop culture fixation right now, public corruption is popular. I dedicate a lot of time to studying and investigating corruption. By public corruption I generally refer to using public office for personal gain at the expense of the public welfare. In my research, I have come across countless statistics about how states compare in some facet of corruption, whether the ranking of their prevention of malfeasance or actual convictions of those caught. In poring over these reports, one state stood out: Oregon. In the most recent report from the Center for Public Integrity in 2015, Oregon grades out with a score of 59 out of 100, good for 42nd among the 50 states. The only section of its report that offers a respectable grade is state budget processes, which scored an 84, good enough for a B and a rank of 13 out of 50. [1] But that is in no way consistent with public corruption crime statistics. From 2001-2010, Oregon had only 37 public corruption convictions, which is 1 for every 100,000 people in Oregon. That’s solidly in the lowest tier of corruption convictions. In fact, that’s the lowest conviction rate per capita and the 41st in total convictions. [2] That’s remarkable if it is truly representative of how much corruption there is in Oregon, because according to some statistics, it seems like corruption should be rampant in Oregon. According to others, corruption is barely noticeable. Recent attention turned to Oregon when its governor asked for his fiancee and himself to be investigated by the state ethics commission. However, there is still almost no criminal corruption activity. What is going on? It certainly can’t be both. |
