An Access Advertising EconBrief:
How and Why Did ObamaCare Become SCOTUSCare?
On June 25, 2015, the Supreme Court of the United States delivered its most consequential opinion in recent years in King v. Burwell. King was David King, one of various Plaintiffs opposing Sylvia Burwell, Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare. The case might more colloquially be called “ObamaCare II,” since it dealt with the second major attempt to overturn the Obama administration’s signature legislative achievement.
The Obama administration has been bragging about its success in attracting signups for the program. Not surprisingly, it fails to mention two facts that make this apparent victory Pyrrhic. First, most of the signups are people who lost their previous health insurance due to the law’s provisions, not people who lacked insurance to begin with. Second, a large chunk of enrollees are being subsidized by the federal government in the form of a tax credit for the amount of the insurance.
The point at issue in King v. Burwell is the legality of this subsidy. The original legislation provides for health-care exchanges established by state governments, and proponents have been quick to cite these provisions to pooh-pooh the contention that the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (PPACA) ushered in a federally-run, socialist system of health care. The specific language used by PPAACA in Section 1401 is that the IRS can provide tax credits for insurance purchased on “exchanges run by the State.” That phrase appears 14 times in Section 1401 and each time it clearly refers to state governments, not the federal government. But in actual practice, states have found it excruciatingly difficult to establish these exchanges and many states have refused to do so. Thus, people in those states have turned to the federal-government website for health insurance and have nevertheless received a tax credit under the IRS’s interpretation of statute 1401. That interpretation has come to light in various lawsuits heard by lower courts, some of which have ruled for plaintiffs and against attempts by the IRS and the Obama administration to award the tax credits.
Without the tax credits, many people on both sides of the political spectrum agree, PPACA will crash and burn. Not enough healthy people will sign up for the insurance to subsidize those with pre-existing medical conditions for whom PPACA is the only source of external funding for medical treatment.
To a figurative roll of drums, the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) released its opinion on June 25, 2015. It upheld the legality of the IRS interpretation in a 6-3 decision, finding for the government and the Obama administration for the second time. And for the second time, the opinion for the majority was written by Chief Justice John Roberts.
Roberts’ Rules of Constitutional Disorder
Given that Justice Roberts had previously written the opinion upholding the constitutionality of the law, his vote here cannot be considered a complete shock. As before, the shock was in the reasoning he used to reach his conclusion. In the first case (National Federation of Independent Businesses v. Sebelius, 2012), Roberts interpreted a key provision of the law in a way that its supporters had categorically and angrily rejected during the legislative debate prior to enactment and subsequently. He referred to the “individual mandate” that uninsured citizens must purchase health insurance as a tax. This rescued it from the otherwise untenable status of a coercive consumer directive – something not allowed under the Constitution.
Now Justice Roberts addressed the meaning of the phrase “established by the State.” He did not agree with one interpretation previously made by the government’s Solicitor General, that the term was an undefined term of art. He disdained to apply a precedent established by the Court in a previous case involving interpretation of law by administration agencies, the Chevron case. The precedent said that in cases where a phrase was ambiguous, a reasonable interpretation by the agency charged with administering the law would rule. In this case, though, Roberts claimed that since “the IRS…has no expertise in crafting health-insurance policy of this sort,” Congress could not possibly have intended to grant the agency this kind of discretion.
No, Roberts is prepared to believe that “established by the State” does not mean “established by the federal government,” all right. But he says that the Supreme Court cannot interpret the law this way because it will cause the law to fail to achieve its intended purpose. So, the Court must treat the wording as ambiguous and interpret it in such a way as to advance the goals intended by Congress and the administration. Hence, his decision for defendant and against plaintiffs.
In other words, he rejected the ability of the IRS to interpret the meaning of the phrase “established by the State” because of that agency’s lack of health-care-policy expertise, but is sufficiently confident of his own expertise in that area to interpret its meaning himself; it is his assessment of the market consequences that drives his decision to uphold the tax credits.
Roberts’ opinion prompted one of the most scathing, incredulous dissents in the history of the Court, by Justice Antonin Scalia. “This case requires us to decide whether someone who buys insurance on an exchange established by the Secretary gets tax credits,” begins Scalia. “You would think the answer would be obvious – so obvious that there would hardly be a need for the Supreme Court to hear a case about it… Under all the usual rules of interpretation… the government should lose this case. But normal rules of interpretation seem always to yield to the overriding principle of the present Court – the Affordable Care Act must be saved.”
The reader can sense Scalia’s mounting indignation and disbelief. “The Court interprets [Section 1401] to award tax credits on both federal and state exchanges. It accepts that the most natural sense of the phrase ‘an exchange established by the State’ is an exchange established by a state. (Understatement, thy name is an opinion on the Affordable Care Act!) Yet the opinion continues, with no semblance of shame, that ‘it is also possible that the phrase refers to all exchanges.’ (Impossible possibility, thy name is an opinion on the Affordable Care Act!)”
“Perhaps sensing the dismal failure of its efforts to show that ‘established by the State’ means ‘established by the State and the federal government,’ the Court tries to palm off the pertinent statutory phrase as ‘inartful drafting.’ The Court, however, has no free-floating power to rescue Congress from their drafting errors.” In other words, Justice Roberts has rewritten the law to suit himself.
To reinforce his conclusion, Scalia concludes with “…the Court forgets that ours is a government of laws and not of men. That means we are governed by the terms of our laws and not by the unenacted will of our lawmakers. If Congress enacted into law something different from what it intended, then it should amend to law to conform to its intent. In the meantime, Congress has no roving license …to disregard clear language on the view that … ‘Congress must have intended’ something broader.”
“Rather than rewriting the law under the pretense of interpreting it, the Court should have left it to Congress to decide what to do… [the] Court’s two cases on the law will be remembered through the years. And the cases will publish the discouraging truth that the Supreme Court favors some laws over others and is prepared to do whatever it takes to uphold and assist its favorites… We should start calling this law SCOTUSCare.”
Jonathan Adler of the much-respected and quoted law blog Volokh Conspiracy put it this way: “The umpire has decided that it’s okay to pinch-hit to ensure that the right team wins.”
And indeed, what most stands out about Roberts’ opinion is its contravention of ordinary constitutional thought. It is not the product of a mind that began at square one and worked its way methodically to a logical conclusion. The reader senses a reversal of procedure; the Chief Justice started out with a desired conclusion and worked backwards to figure out how to justify reaching it. Justice Scalia says as much in his dissent. But Scalia does not tell us why Roberts is behaving in this manner.
If we are honest with ourselves, we must admit that we do not know why Roberts is saying what he is saying. Beyond question, it is arbitrary and indefensible. Certainly it is inconsistent with his past decisions. There are various reasons why a man might do this.
One obvious motivation might be that Roberts is being blackmailed by political supporters of the PPACA, within or outside of the Obama administration. Since blackmail is not only a crime but also a distasteful allegation to make, nobody will advance it without concrete supporting evidence – not only evidence against the blackmailer but also an indication of his or her ammunition. The opposite side of the blackmail coin is bribery. Once again, nobody will allege this publicly without concrete evidence, such as letters, tapes, e-mails, bank account or bank-transfer information. These possibilities deserve mention because they lie at the head of a short list of motives for betrayal of deeply held principles.
Since nobody has come forward with evidence of malfeasance – or is likely to – suppose we disregard that category of possibility. What else could explain Roberts’ actions? (Note the plural; this is the second time he has sustained PPACA at the cost of his own integrity.)
Lord Acton Revisited
To explain John Roberts’ actions, we must develop a model of political economy. That requires a short side trip into the realm of political philosophy.
Lord Acton’s famous maxim is: “Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely.” We are used to thinking of it in the context of a dictatorship or of an individual or institution temporarily or unjustly wielding power. But it is highly applicable within the context of today’s welfare-state democracies.
All of the Western industrialized nations have evolved into what F. A. Hayek called “absolute democracies.” They are democratic because popular vote determines the composition of representative governments. But they are absolute in scope and degree because the administrative agencies staffing those governments are answerable to no voter. And increasingly the executive, legislative and judicial branches of the governments wield powers that are virtually unlimited. In practical effect, voters vote on which party will wield nominal executive control over the agencies and dominate the legislature. Instead of a single dictator, voters elect a government body with revolving and rotating dictatorial powers.
As the power of government has grown, the power at stake in elections has grown commensurately. This explains the burgeoning amounts of money spent on elections. It also explains the growing rancor between opposing parties, since ordinary citizens perceive the loss of electoral dominance to be subjugation akin to living under a dictatorship. But instead of viewing this phenomenon from the perspective of John Q. Public, view it from within the brain of a policymaker or decisionmaker.
For example, suppose you are a completely fictional Chairman of a completely hypothetical Federal Reserve Board. We will call you “Bernanke.” During a long period of absurdly low interest rates, a huge speculative boom has produced unprecedented levels of real-estate investment by banks and near-banks. After stoutly insisting for years on the benign nature of this activity, you suddenly perceive the likelihood that this speculative boom will go bust and some indeterminate number of these financial institutions will become insolvent. What do you do?
Actually, the question is really more “What do you say?” The actions of the Federal Reserve in regulating banks, including those threatened with or undergoing insolvency, are theoretically set down on paper, not conjured up extemporaneously by the Fed Chairman every time a crisis looms. These days, though, the duties of a Fed Chairman involve verbal reassurance and massage as much as policy implementation. Placing those duties in their proper light requires that our side trip be interrupted with a historical flashback.
Let us cast our minds back to 1929 and the onset of the Great Depression in the United States. At that time, virtually nobody foresaw the coming of the Depression – nobody in authority, that is. For many decades afterwards, the conventional narrative was that President Herbert Hoover adopted a laissez faire economic policy, stubbornly waiting for the economy to recover rather than quickly ramping up government spending in response to the collapse of the private sector. Hoover’s name became synonymous with government passivity in the face of adversity. Makeshift shanties and villages of the homeless and dispossessed became known as “Hoovervilles.”
It took many years to dispel this myth. The first truthteller was economist Murray Rothbard in his 1962 book America’s Great Depression, who pointed out that Hoover had spent his entire term in a frenzy of activism. Far from remaining a pillar of fiscal rectitude, Hoover had presided over federal deficit spending so large that his successor, Democrat Franklin Delano Roosevelt, campaigned on a platform of balancing the federal-government budget. Hoover sternly warned corporate executives not to lower wages and officially adopted an official stance in favor of inflation.
Professional economists ignored Rothbard’s book in droves, as did reviewers throughout the mass media. Apparently the fact that Hoover’s policies failed to achieve their intended effects persuaded everybody that he couldn’t have actually followed the policies he did – since his actual policies were the very policies recommended by mainstream economists to counteract the effects of recession and Depression and were largely indistinguishable in kind, if not in degree, from those followed later by Roosevelt.
The anathematization of Herbert Hoover drover Hoover himself to distraction. The former President lived another thirty years, to age ninety, stoutly maintaining his innocence of the crime of insensitivity to the misery of the poor and unemployed. Prior to his presidency, Hoover had built reputation as one of the great humanitarians of the 20th century by deploying his engineering and organizational skills in the cause of disaster relief across the globe. The trashing of his reputation as President is one of history’s towering ironies. As it happened, his economic policies were disastrous, but not because he didn’t care about the people. His failure was ignorance of economics – the same sin committed by his critics.
Worse than the effects of his policies, though, was the effect his demonization has had on subsequent policymakers. We do not remember the name of the captain of the California, the ship that lay anchored within sight of the Titanic but failed to answer distress calls and go to the rescue. But the name of Hoover is still synonymous with inaction and defeat. In politics, the unforgivable sin became not to act in the face of any crisis, regardless of the consequences.
Today, unlike in Hoover’s day, the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board is the quarterback of economic policy. This is so despite the Fed’s ambiguous status as a quasi-government body, owned by its member banks with a leader appointed by the President. Returning to our hypothetical, we ponder the dilemma faced by the Chairman, “Bernanke.”
Bernanke only directly controls monetary policy and bank regulation. But he receives information about every aspect of the U.S. economy in order to formulate Fed policy. The Fed also issues forecasts and recommendations for fiscal and regulatory policies. Even though the Federal Reserve is nominally independent of politics and from the Treasury department of the federal government, the Fed’s policies affect and are affected by government policies.
It might be tempting to assume that Fed Chairmen know what is going to happen in the economic future. But there is no reason to believe that is true. All we need do is examine their past statements to disabuse ourselves of that notion. Perhaps the popping of the speculative bubble that Bernanke now anticipates will produce an economic recession. Perhaps it will even topple the U.S. banking system like a row of dominoes and produce another Great Depression, a la 1929. But we cannot assume that either. The fact that we had one (1) Great Depression is no guarantee that we will have another one. After all, we have had 36 other recessions that did not turn into Great Depressions. There is nothing like a general consensus on what caused the Depression of the 1920s and 30s. (The reader is invited to peruse the many volumes written by historians, economic and non-, on the subject.) About the only point of agreement among commentators is that a large number of things went wrong more or less simultaneously and all of them contributed in varying degrees to the magnitude of the Depression.
Of course, a good case might be made that it doesn’t matter whether Fed Chairman can foresee a coming Great Depression or not. Until recently, one of the few things that united contemporary commentators was their conviction that another Great Depression was impossible. The safeguards put in place in response to the first one had foreclosed that possibility. First, “automatic stabilizers” would cause government spending to rise in response to any downturn in private-sector spending, thereby heading off any cumulative downward movement in investment and consumption in response to failures in the banking sector. Second, the Federal Reserve could and would act quickly in response to bank failures to prevent the resulting reverse-multiplier effect on the money supply, thereby heading off that threat at the pass. Third, bank regulations were modified and tightened to prevent failures from occurring or restrict them to isolated cases.
Yet despite everything written above, we can predict confidently that our fictional “Bernanke” would respond to a hypothetical crisis exactly as the real Ben Bernanke did respond to the crisis he faced and later described in the book he wrote about it. The actual and predicted responses are the same: Scare the daylights out of the public by predicting an imminent Depression of cataclysmic proportions and calling for massive government spending and regulation to counteract it. Of course, the real-life Bernanke claimed that he and Treasury Secretary Henry O’Neill correctly foresaw the economic future and were heroically calling for preventive measures before it was too late. But the logic we have carefully developed suggests otherwise.
Nobody – not Federal Reserve Chairmen or Treasury Secretaries or California psychics – can foresee Great Depressions. Predicting a recession is only possible if the cyclical process underlying it is correctly understood, and there is no generally accepted theory of the business cycle. No, Bernanke and O’Neill were not protecting America with their warning; they were protecting themselves. They didn’t know that a Great Depression was in the works – but they did know that they would be blamed for anything bad that did happen to the economy. Their only way of insuring against that outcome – of buying insurance against the loss of their jobs, their professional reputations and the possibility of historical “Hooverization” – was to scream for the biggest possible government action as soon as possible.
Ben Bernanke had been blasé about the effects of ultra-low interest rates; he had pooh-poohed the possibility that the housing boom was a bubble that would burst like a sonic boom with reverberations that would flatten the economy. Suddenly he was confronted with a possibility that threatened to make him look like a fool. Was he icy cool, detached, above all personal considerations? Thinking only about banking regulations, national-income multipliers and the money supply? Or was he thinking the same thought that would occur to any normal human being in his place: “Oh, my God, my name will go down in history as the Herbert Hoover of Fed chairmen”?
Since the reasoning he claims as his inspiration is so obviously bogus, it is logical to classify his motives as personal rather than professional. He was protecting himself, not saving the country. And that brings us to the case of Chief Justice John Roberts.
Chief Justice John Roberts: Selfless, Self-Interested or Self-Preservationist?
For centuries, economists have identified self-interest as the driving force behind human behavior. This has exasperated and even angered outside observers, who have mistaken self-interest for greed or money-obsession. It is neither. Rather, it merely recognizes that the structure of the human mind gives each of us a comparative advantage in the promotion of our own welfare above that of others. Because I know more about me than you do, I can make myself happier than you can; because you know more about you than I do, you can make yourself happier than I can. And by cooperating to share our knowledge with each other, we can make each other happier through trade than we could be if we acted in isolation – but that cooperation must preserve the principle of self-interest in order to operate efficiently.
Strangely, economists long assumed that the same people who function well under the guidance of self-interest throw that principle to the winds when they take up the mantle of government. Government officials and representatives, according to traditional economics textbooks, become selfless instead of self-interested when they take office. Selflessness demands that they put the public welfare ahead of any personal considerations. And just what is the “public welfare,” exactly? Textbooks avoided grappling with this murky question by hiding behind notions like a “social welfare function” or a “community indifference curve.” These are examples of what the late F. A. Hayek called “the pretense of knowledge.”
Beginning in the 1950s, the “public choice” school of economics and political science was founded by James Buchanan and Gordon Tullock. This school of thought treated people in government just like people outside of government. It assumed that politicians, government bureaucrats and agency employees were trying to maximize their utility and operating under the principle of self-interest. Because the incentives they faced were radically different than those faced by those in the private sector, outcomes within government differed radically from those outside of government – usually for the worse.
If we apply this reasoning to members of the Supreme Court, we are confronted by a special kind of self-interest exercised by people in a unique position of power and authority. Members of the Court have climbed their career ladder to the top; in law, there are no higher rungs. This has special economic significance.
When economists speak of “competition” among input-suppliers, we normally speak of people competing with others doing the same job for promotion, raises and advancement. None of these are possible in this context. What about more elevated kinds of recognition? Well, there is certainly scope for that, but only for the best of the best. On the current court, positive recognition goes to those who write notable opinions. Only Judge Scalia has the special talent necessary to stand out as a legal scholar for the ages. In this sense, Judge Scalia is “competing” with other judges in a self-interested way when he writes his decisions, but he is not competing with his fellow judges. He is competing with the great judges of history – John Marshall, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Louis Brandeis, and Learned Hand – against whom his work is measured. Otherwise, a judge can stand out from the herd by providing the deciding or “swing” vote in close decisions. In other words, he can become politically popular or unpopular with groups that agree or disagree with his vote. Usually, that results in transitory notoriety.
But in historic cases, there is the possibility that it might lead to “Hooverization.”
The bigger government gets, the more power it wields. More government power leads to more disagreement about its role, which leads to more demand to arbitration by the Supreme Court. This puts the Court in the position of deciding the legality of enactments that claim to do great things for people while putting their freedoms and livelihoods in jeopardy. Any judge who casts a deciding vote against such a measure will go down in history as “the man who shot down” the Great Bailout/the Great Health Care/the Great Stimulus/the Great Reproductive Choice, ad infinitum.
Almost all Supreme Court justices have little to gain but a lot to lose from opposing a measure that promotes government power. They have little to gain because they cannot advance further or make more money and they do not compete with J. Marshall, Holmes, Brandeis or Hand. They have a lot to lose because they fear being anathematized by history, snubbed by colleagues, picketed or assassinated in the present day, and seeing their children brutalized by classmates or the news media. True, they might get satisfaction from adhering to the Constitution and their personal conception of justice – if they are sheltered under the umbrella of another justice’s opinion or they can fly under the radar of media scrutiny in a relatively low-profile case.
Let us attach a name to the status occupied by most Supreme Court justices and to the spirit that animates them. It is neither self-interest nor selflessness in their purest forms; we shall call it self-preservation. They want to preserve the exalted status they enjoy and they are not willing to risk it; they are willing to obey the Constitution, observe the law and speak the truth but only if and when they can preserve their position by doing so. When they are threatened, their principles and convictions suddenly go out the window and they will say and do whatever it takes to preserve what they perceive as their “self.” That “self” is the collection of real income, perks, immunities and prestige that go with the status of Supreme Court Justice.
Supreme Court Justice John Roberts is an example of the model of self-preservation. In both of the ObamaCare decisions, his opinions for the majority completely abdicated his previous conservative positions. They plumbed new depths of logical absurdity – legal absurdity in the first decision and semantic absurdity in the second one. Yet one day after the release of King v. Burwell, Justice Roberts dissented in the Obergefell case by chiding the majority for “converting personal preferences into constitutional law” and disregarding clear meaning of language in the laws being considered. In other words, he condemned precisely those sins he had himself committed the previous day in his majority opinion in King v. Burwell.
For decades, conservatives have watched in amazement, scratching their heads and wracking their brains as ostensibly conservative justices appointed by Republican presidents unexpectedly betrayed their principles when the chips were down, in high-profile cases. The economic model developed here lays out a systematic explanation for those previously inexplicable defections. David Souter, Anthony Kennedy, John Paul Stevens and Sandra Day O’Connor were the precursors to John Roberts. These were not random cases. They were the systematic workings of the self-preservationist principle in action.