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Where Congress’s Power to Regulate Immigration Comes From

Where Congress’s Power to Regulate Immigration Comes From

Introduction. Earlier this year, a law journal published an exchange between two respected law professors—a conservative and a libertarian—about whether the Constitution authorizes Congress to regulate immigration. (The Constitution does not mention immigration except to say that Congress cannot ban it before 1808.) The conservative said “Yes,” and supported his position with some extremely liberal (!) readings of parts of the Constitution. The libertarian said, “No”—that except in special circumstances Congress could not restrict immigration (although the states could).

Surprisingly, both contributors missed the actual source of Congress’s immigration authority: the power “To define and punish . . . Offences against the Law of Nations”) (Article I, Section 8, Clause 10).

The law journal already had been published, so it was too late to join the discussion on its pages. Accordingly, I wrote an article in The Hill detailing why the “Define and Punish Clause” applies to immigration. The libertarian replied on the pages of the Volokh Conspiracy, a Washington Post blog to which he regularly contributes, and for which I have occasionally written as well.

I thought this issue was worth a full explanation of why the Define and Punish Clause covers immigration, because its applicability to immigration is not well known, even among legal experts. Accordingly, I prepared the essay below for readers interested in immigration issues. As should be apparent from this essay, I am NOT taking a stand on immigration policy, just on an issue of constitutional interpretation. This essay appeared in Josh Blackman’s Blog.

Links to some of the earlier writings appear in the essay.

Why the Define and Punish Clause Grants Congress Power to Regulate Immigration

By Robert G. Natelson

            In a recent article in The Hill, I wrote that the Constitution’s grant to Congress of power “To define and punish . . . Offences against the Law of Nations” confers authority to restrict immigration. Professor Ilya Somin has responded and argues the contrary.

Before addressing his argument, I should make clear I agree with Professor Somin on several key issues about the Constitution and immigration. I agree that the original meaning of the Commerce Clause does not include a general power to restrict immigration, and that the Naturalization Clause probably does not, either. In company with him, I reject the claim that the federal government possesses extra-constitutional inherent sovereign authority—because that claim is starkly inconsistent with the ratification-era debates, the structure of the Constitution, and the text of the Tenth Amendment.

Where we differ is about whether the power to “define and punish Offences against the Law of Nations” includes authority to restrict immigration.

“The Law of Nations” was the usual 18th century term for international law. Most of the law of nations governed how nations interacted with other nations. However, some aspects governed how they interacted with foreigners and a few aspects—such as the law merchant—regulated how citizens of different countries interacted with each other.

The law of nations was based on natural law, custom, and international agreements. However, the rules were not always clearly defined, and they were not self-executing. For this reason, legislatures adopted implementing statutes. Examples of such statutes were those protecting safe-conduct passes from disrespect and foreign ambassadors from insult. The Define and Punish Clause granted Congress authority to adopt implementing measures.

The law of nations held, as a general principle, that nations should not harm each other. Hence, it provided that nations must refrain from unauthorized incursions into other nations’ territory. To violate international law, the unauthorized entry need not be led by a foreign government. As the Founders’ favorite international law scholar, Emer de Vattel observed, “Private persons, who are members of one nation . . . may injure a foreign sovereign.” Immigration statutes implemented the “no unauthorized entry” norm against “private persons” from other countries.

Professor Somin acknowledges that “the law of nations did indeed assume that each state has the authority to restrict the entry of aliens, largely as it sees fit.” But he notes that the mere fact that the law of nations authorized a sovereign to adopt legislation did not render the legislation part of the law of nations. For example, the law of nations recognized a sovereign’s prerogative to enact statutes forbidding murder. However, most murders were not offenses against the law of nations. Moreover, if it were true that any statute consistent with international jurisprudence were part of international jurisprudence, the Define and Punish Clause would empower Congress to adopt any ordinary police legislation permitted by international law. Such a sweeping grant of power to Congress would be inconsistent with the Founders’ design.

On these points Professor Somin is correct.

On the other hand, some domestic statutes surely did define offences against the law of nations. An example is a statute prohibiting a citizen from insulting or impeding a foreign ambassador. Thus, to state that the Define and Punish Clause does not authorize all domestic laws does not answer the question of which domestic laws it does authorize. Is a statute restricting immigration in the class with ordinary murder laws or in the class with protections for ambassadors? Immigration limits have international implications that ordinary murder laws do not have. So reasoning would seem to place immigration restrictions in the “law of nations” category.

But questions of constitutional meaning cannot be answered through pure reason, however acute. Nor does the constitutional answer lie in what we moderns think international law is or should be—a mistake into which Professor Somin’s essay slips once or twice.

At least to an originalist who follows Founding-Era norms of interpretation, the meaning of a constitutional term is fixed by the understanding of those who ratified it or, in absence of sufficient coherent evidence on that subject, by the original public meaning. When, as here, the constitutional debates provide little relevant evidence on the sense of a legal term, our best evidence of its meaning may be Founding-Era jurisprudence. (I say “may be” because contemporaneous congressional and state records are sometimes more helpful.)

To a modern reader, some of the classifications adopted by 18th century jurisprudence appear arbitrary. Yet those classifications often serve to define constitutional meaning. The framers treated bankruptcy and commerce separately, despite their interrelated nature, because they were distinct legal categories. Similarly, the legal phrase of “to regulate Commerce” encompassed travel by ship but not (most) travel by foot. So under the Constitution’s original legal force, the power to regulate commerce included boat travel from Canada but not (usually) walking across the border.

Helpful to grasping international law jurisprudence as the Founders understood it are three treatises they held in high esteem: Samuel Pufendorf’s 17th century work, Of the Law of Nature and Nations, and two 18th century works: Emer de Vattel’s The Law of Nations and Blackstone’s Commentaries.

Vattel wrote that the law of nations derived from the natural law applicable to individuals, as modified by convention and by the special circumstances of sovereigns: “[C]onsequently, the law of nations is originally no other than the law of nature applied to nations” (emphasis in original). Indeed, both Vattel and Pufendorf frequently drew upon rules of natural law applicable to individuals to deduce or justify substantive rules of international law. By way of illustration, here is how Pufendorf justifies immigration restrictions:

The Case is somewhat like that of a private Man, who in his House or Gardens, possesses some rare Curiosity, or other valuable Sight; such an one does not apprehend himself tied freely to let in all Spectators . . . And this seems the more reasonable, because the Grounds of prudent Caution and Suspicion are so numerous. . . .

And farther, that it seems very gross and absurd, to allow others an indefinite or unlimited Right of traveling and living among us, without reflecting either on their Number, or on the Design of their coming; whether supposing them to pass harmlessly, they intend only to take a short view of our Country, or whether they claim a Right of fixing themselves with us for ever. And that he who will stretch the Duty of Hospitality to this extravagant Extent, ought to be rejected as a most unreasonable, and most improper Judge of the Case.

As to our main Question, it is look’d on by most as the safest way of resolving it, to say, That it is left in the power of all States, to take such Measures about the Admission of Strangers, as they think convenient . . . .

I suppose Professor Somin might respond that Pufendorf was merely asserting the power of nations to exclude foreigners—that Pufendorf was not saying the intrusion violated the law of nations. But this does not seem justified by the context. Pufendorf was engaged in the common methodology of using rules of domestic law to deduce rules of international law. Domestic law not only gives permission to a householder to decide to exclude. Domestic law also makes it an offense to disregard the householder’s decision. I see no reason why international law would not encompass both the decision to exclude and unauthorized disregard of that decision. As noted earlier, immigration laws are not purely domestic in their effect; they have important international implications.

Blackstone understood this passage the same way I do, and for purposes of constitutional interpretation Blackstone’s exposition matters a great deal. Explicitly relying on this passage, Blackstone wrote, “Upon exactly the same reason stands the prerogative of granting safe-conducts, without which by the law of nations no member of one society has a right to intrude into another. (emphasis added).” To Blackstone, then, the law of nations does not merely grant a sovereign the right to exclude. A violation is itself an offence against the law of nations.

Now we turn to Vattel’s treatise. It consists of four books. The first was entitled “Of Nations considered in themselves.” A major theme of this first book is the derivation of rules of governance from natural law principles. Despite the title, the book goes beyond questions of internal governance to deduce conclusions about the law of nations. Among those conclusions:

*          “A nation or state has a right to every thing that can help to ward off imminent danger;”

*          nations may limit or ban imports;

*          they may refuse to trade with others; and

*          they may restrict emigration and immigration, taking into consideration a range of factors, including available land, health concerns, avoiding religious strife, and factors of safety and culture. Indeed, the nation “has a right, and is even obliged, to follow, in this respect, the suggestions of prudence.”

Now, these seem like rules of international law to me. And in respect to immigration at least, they go beyond mere permission: They extend to obligation—for a sovereign “is even obliged” to legislate according to likely consequences.

Vattel further supports the conclusion that the law of nations includes the substance of immigration statutes. In this book, he mentions a rule among some European states denying citizenship to foreigners. Vattel characterizes the rule—not merely the authorization—as “the law of nations, established there by custom.” Professor Somin observes that this custom regulated citizenship rather than immigration. But that distinction actually cuts against his argument: If even an internal citizenship rule dealing with foreigners—a rule central to the life of a polity—is part of the law of nations, then a limit on foreigners crossing the border is one a fortiorari. (As Professor Somin correctly states, Vattel didn’t like the custom of denying citizenship to foreigners. But that is wholly beside the point.)

Yet, perhaps one might object that Vattel’s first book is really only about “Nations considered in themselves,” and that we should therefore be cautious about treating its conclusions as part of the law of nations.

So let us examine Vattel’s second book. Its title tells us it is wholly about the law of nations: “Of a Nation Considered in its Relation to Others.” (The third and fourth books are about war and peace, respectively.) Here are some passages from the second book, presented in order of appearance:

As every thing included in the country belongs to the nation—and as none but the nation, or the person on whom she has devolved her right, is authorised to dispose of those things,— if she has left uncultivated and desert places in the country, no person whatever has a right to take possession of them without her consent. Though she does not make actual use of them, those places still belong to her: she has an interest in preserving them for future use, and is not accountable to any person for the manner in which she makes use of her property.

 * * * *

Since the least encroachment on the territory of another is an act of injustice . . . the limits of territories ought to be marked out with clearness and precision.

 * * * *

We should not only refrain from usurping the territory of others; we should also respect it, and abstain from every act contrary to the rights of the sovereign: for a foreign nation can claim no right in it.

    * * * *

The sovereign may forbid the entrance of his territory either to foreigners in general, or in particular cases, or to certain persons, or for certain particular purposes, according as he may think it advantageous to the state. There is nothing in all this, that does not flow from the rights of domain and sovereignty: every one is obliged to pay respect to the prohibition; and whoever dares to violate it, incurs the penalty decreed to render it effectual. But the prohibition ought to be known, as well as the penalty annexed to disobedience: those who are ignorant of it, ought to be informed of it when they approach to enter the country.

 * * * *

Since the lord of the territory may, whenever he thinks proper, forbid its being entered, he has no doubt a power to annex what conditions he pleases to the permission to enter. This, as we have already said, is a consequence of the right of domain.

Perhaps one might rejoin, “Here again, Vattel says only that the law of nations permits sovereigns to restrict immigration; he does not say that violations are part of the law of nations.” On the contrary, though, Vattel does more than describe the prerogative of the sovereign to exclude. In this book (remember: focusing on international norms) Vattel also prescribes the duty to obey:

*          “We should not only refrain from usurping the territory of others; we should also respect it, and abstain from every act contrary to the rights of the sovereign;” and

*          “[E]very one is obliged to pay respect to the prohibition; and whoever dares to violate it, incurs the penalty decreed to render it effectual.”

Even if these passages of obligation were absent, I don’t think it is the most natural reading of the text to infer that the right to enact a restrictive statute is a component of international law but violation of the statute is not. I doubt many Americans reading Vattel during the Founding Era would think a book entitled “Of a Nation Considered in its Relation to Others” was telling them, “The law of nations authorizes restrictive immigration statutes but is wholly agnostic about their violation.” Certainly Vattel never says that.

One last point—not fully germane, but worth mentioning. Professor Somin writes, “But in the eighteenth century, and even today, states have no international law obligation to prevent the peaceful migration of their citizens to foreign nations that might wish to exclude them.” Vattel, at least, may well have disagreed:

If a sovereign, who might keep his subjects within the rules of justice and peace, suffers them to injure a foreign nation either in its body or its members, he does no less injury to that nation, than if he injured it himself.

* * * *

Finally, there is another case where the nation in general is guilty of the crimes of its members. That is when by its manners and by the maxims of its government it accustoms and authorizes its citizens . . . to make inroads into neighboring countries.

How We Know a National Amendments Convention Is a ‘Convention of the States’

How We Know a National Amendments Convention Is a ‘Convention of the States’

Most state legislatures have filed applications with Congress demanding a national convention for proposing constitutional amendments. Americans are asking just what kind of convention the Constitution requires.Nearly all experts believe an amendments convention is a “convention of the states”—the traditional term for a meeting in which representatives of state legislatures deliberate on the basis of sovereign equality. The rule at a convention of the states is that each state has an equal voice.

This would be a familiar procedure: There have been about 40 conventions of states in American history—although this one would be the first called to propose constitutional amendments under the authority of the Constitution itself.

Other commentators—predominately, but not exclusively, convention opponents—argue an amendments convention should consist of popularly elected delegates, perhaps allocated by population.

The Constitution itself merely refers to the assembly as a “Convention for proposing Amendments.” So we must look at history to understand how the Founders understood the term.

In an 1831 decision, the U.S. Supreme Court said an amendments convention is a convention of the states. My newly-issued research study confirms the Supreme Court was correct.

During the century before the Constitution was drafted, conventions among North American colonies, and later among states, met on average every three or four years. After Independence in 1776, the pace quickened: The Constitutional Convention of 1787 was the 11th interstate gathering in 11 years. All were assemblies of state delegations, operating as ambassadors from their respective states.

The delegates were officially called “commissioners” and the meetings dubbed either “conventions of the states” or by some well-recognized synonym.

The fact that the founders knew only of the “convention of the states” model of interstate meeting suggests strongly they intended an amendments convention to work the same way. The new study shows how the “convention of states” approach fits within the Constitution they drafted and approved.

Additionally, the study collects numerous documents in which Founders specifically labeled an amendments convention a “convention of the states.” All these documents originated when Americans still were debating the new Constitution. Remarkably, everyone seems to have shared the view that an amendments convention would be a “convention of the states,” irrespective of whether he favored the Constitution.

For example, in New York legislative debates, two lawmakers referred to an amendments convention as a “convention of the states.” One was John Lansing Jr., who had served as a framer in Philadelphia. Similarly, in South Carolina, another framer, Charles Cotesworth Pinkney, referred to the amendments convention in much the same way.

Newspaper articles used the same term. Leading founders such as George Washington, James Madison, and Alexander Hamilton made comments that reveal their assumption that an amendments convention is a convention of the states.

Perhaps most persuasive of all are the references to “convention of the states” in state legislative resolutions and other government documents. During 1788 and 1789, several state legislatures debated whether to formally apply to Congress for a convention, primarily to obtain a bill of rights. The very first application, passed by the Virginia legislature, used the term “convention of the states,” and the second (New York’s) used a common synonym.

The study observes: “Within a few months amid the ratification debates, five states in different regions of the country—three in favor, one against, and one neutral—issued seven official documents identifying an amendments convention as a convention of the states.”

For a such a gathering, the state legislatures decide how many commissioners to send to the convention and how they are chosen. Previous experience suggests state legislatures will select most commissioners. That ensures the commissioners are experienced in public policy and official drafting.

When the convention is called to order, each delegation will have an equal voice. Although the assembly theoretically could change that rule, no convention of states ever has.

If delegations from all 50 states attend, then 26 will be able to propose an amendment. Their proposal will, however, be merely a proposal. To become part of the Constitution, three-fourths of the states (38) must approve, thereby assuring the amendment has strong popular support.

This article originally appeared in Townhall.com

First National Convention of States in 150 Years!

First National Convention of States in 150 Years!

Americans finally have a real chance to “clean up the mess in Washington.” That’s the implication of the news that the Arizona legislature has called the first national “convention of states” in over 150 years.

The conclave will meet in Phoenix on September 12. Its purpose is to plan for a later convention to propose a balanced budget amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

Contrary to some histrionic claims, neither the planning assembly nor the subsequent gathering will be constitutional conventions. Each will be a taskforce limited to narrow topics. Any amendment suggested by the later convention would become part of the Constitution only if approved by 38 states.

State lawmakers nationwide have become increasingly frustrated by federal dysfunction. One complaint is Congress’s persistent failure to balance its budget, which has resulted in a skyrocketing national debt.

The Constitution’s chief mechanism for addressing such long-term problems is a special kind of convention of the states the Constitution calls a “convention for proposing amendments.” This assembly must be called if two-thirds of the state legislatures (34 of 50) demand it. Most state legislatures already have done so.

The Arizona legislature is among them, and it apparently believes the 34-state threshold will be crossed soon.

Convention History

Although the last national convention of states was held in 1861, such gatherings — both national and regional — have had prominent roles in American history.

Before American Independence, inter-colony conventions deliberated over defense matters and relations with the Indians and with the British. Examples include the Stamp Act Congress (1765) and the First Continental Congress (1774). After Independence, several interstate conventions addressed defense, as well as such issues as trade and monetary inflation. In 1787, an interstate convention with an unusually broad mandate proposed the U.S. Constitution.

Later conventions of the states have been far more limited than the Constitutional Convention. Gatherings in 1814 and 1861 informally proposed specific constitutional amendments. An 1889 regional convention recommended uniform anti-trust laws. One of its recommendations induced Congress to pass the Sherman Anti-Trust Act the following year.Regional conventions in the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s negotiated interstate water compacts.

The latest call is Arizona House Concurrent Resolution 2022, passed on March 30. It also requires a strictly limited conclave. It provides: “The State of Arizona respectfully calls a planning convention of the states, consisting of commissioners chosen and authorized in the manner that each respective state legislature determines… on September 12, 2017 in Phoenix.”

The planning convention will recommend (1) rules and procedures for the balanced budget convention and (2) a date and location that Congress can use when calling the balanced budget convention.

The resolution also recommends that the planning convention adopt “Mason’s Manual” — the same guide currently used by the legislatures of most states — for its parliamentary procedures.

Convention Procedure Well Understood

Despite some uninformed assertions on the subject, there is no mystery surrounding the protocols governing conventions of states. Those protocols have been firmly established for over two centuries. For example, each state has equal voting power; the convention elects its own officers; and the convention is limited by the scope of its “call.”

The Arizona resolution recognizes all these protocols.

This is the latest in a parade of events showing the state legislatures are becoming serious about addressing problems the feds refuse to face. In 2016, the Assembly of State Legislatures, a national bipartisan group, proposed rules for amendments conventions. In October, representatives from nearly all the state legislatures met in a simulated convention held in Williamsburg, Virginia in October. They adopted rules based on a set I had put together based on prior convention experience.

In addition, 10 states have demanded a convention to propose federal term limits and controls on federal power.

The American Legislative Exchange Council, a state legislative trade group, has published a popular guide to the process, which I authored.

This article first appeared in the American Spectator.

Using a convention of states to bypass Congress

Using a convention of states to bypass Congress

Convinced that Congress is unlikely to cure federal dysfunction, most state legislatures have triggered the Constitution’s most important reform mechanism: They have applied for what the Constitution calls “a convention for proposing amendments”—a kind of convention of states

This year, Wyoming became the 29th state to apply for a convention to propose a balanced budget amendment. The Utah House of Representatives applied for a convention to propose congressional term limits. Arizona became the ninth state to endorse a convention that could do both, and Texas is likely to become the tenth.

Unfortunately, opponents of reform have launched a media disinformation campaign to stop it.

Article V of the Constitution provides that three fourths of the states (now 38 of 50) must ratify an amendment before it becomes effective. Before ratification, however, it must be formally proposed—either by Congress or by a “convention for proposing amendments.” A convention is called when two thirds of state legislatures (34 of 50) adopt overlapping resolutions in favor of one.

The founders inserted the convention procedure so the people, acting through their state legislatures, could propose reforms that Congress would rather block. The founders viewed the procedure as a crucial constitutional right. Without it, the Constitution may not have been adopted.

The Disinformation Campaign Against a Convention of States

Opponents’ disinformation campaign is designed to frighten Americans away from using a convention to bypass the Washington power establishment. In some ways, their campaign resembles efforts to suppress voting among targeted groups. It propagates four central assertions—all of them constitutional junk.

Opponents sometimes cite “experts” or “legal scholars” for these claims. These almost always turn out to be people who know little about the subject and have never published any serious research on it.

The Facts About a Convention of States to Propose Amendments

Why are these four claims false? To begin with, a “convention for proposing amendments” cannot change the Constitution’s ratification procedure or impose amendments unilaterally. It can only propose amendments for ratification. According to the Supreme Court, everyone acting in the amendment process is subject to the Constitution’s rules.

Also, there is no “mystery” about the nature of the convention: Both founding-era documents and the U.S. Supreme Court inform us that it is a “convention of the states.”

Conventions of states (or, before independence, of colonies) have been a recurrent feature in American life for more than three centuries. When the Constitution was ratified, there already had been at least thirty. Subsequent conventions of states met in 1814, 1850, 1861, 1889, and several times during the 1920s and 1930s. For example, the 1861 convention of states met in Washington, D.C.  It was national in scope and it proposed a constitutional amendment. But it was not a “constitutional convention,” and neither is any other convention for proposing amendments.

The courts tell us that Article V of the Constitution is applied according to historical practice.  Convention protocols have been standardized for more than two centuries. When the Constitution was written, those protocols were so familiar there was no need to reproduce them in the document—just as there was no need to explain the phrase “trial by jury.”

Convention of states protocols provide that the state legislatures determine how commissioners are selected. They provide that the convention adopts its internal procedures and elects its officers. Each state has equal voting power. Congress has no authority over these issues. None.

Deliberations are limited to its prescribed subject matter—a limit virtually all conventions of states have respected. The assertion that the 1787 Constitutional Convention exceeded its authority is also false: It derives from failure to read or understand that body’s governing documents.

After deliberation, a convention of states decides whether to recommend solutions to the assigned problems. For example, in 1889, the Kansas state legislature called a regional convention of states to address anti-competitive business practices. The conclave met, deliberated, and issued several recommendations. One of its recommendations induced Congress to pass the Sherman Anti-Trust Act the following year.

Finally, when its business is performed, the convention adjourns.

The convention of states process is well-honed, safe, and effective. Americans need to consider carefully whether the Constitution should be amended. But they should not allow disinformation to influence their choice.

Note: This article first appeared in The Hill.

More 20th Century Conventions of States Discovered—Many More!

More 20th Century Conventions of States Discovered—Many More!

As I have reported previously, there have been many conventions of states (and, before Independence, of colonies). Some of these conventions proposed amendments to the Articles of Confederation or to the Constitution.

Among these gatherings have been more than 20 inter-colonial conventions, eleven interstate conventions held between 1776 and 1787, six during the 19th century, and the Colorado River Compact Commission (CRCC) of 1922. Most of these were regional meetings, but they also included seven “general” or national conclaves—held in 1754, 1765, 1774, 1780, 1786, 1787, and 1861.

Do not confuse the 1922 Colorado River Compact Commission, which negotiated the Colorado River Compact, with a permanent regulatory commission. The CRCC was a temporary body consisting of duly authorized state representatives empowered to propose a solution to a designated problem: in other words, a true convention of states. It met in four different cities, but most of its sessions were held in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

The CRCC gathering in Santa Fe did feature some variations on the convention theme. For one thing, the federal government was invited to send a representative and participate, since under the Constitution Congress would have to approve the resulting agreement. Moreover, the Santa Fe conclave operated pursuant to the respective states’ reserved, Tenth Amendment powers. (An Article V convention, by contrast, derives its authority directly from the Constitution.) The Santa Fe formula was worked out by Delphus Carpenter, a prominent Colorado water lawyer and former state senator who served as his state’s representative in Santa Fe. However, neither variation was unique: Other conventions of states (including those held in 1684, 1754, and 1889) have invited non-state sovereignties to participate, and most of them relied on reserved power rather than direct constitutional authorization.

More Conventions of States!

Now I have learned that the Santa Fe convention was only the foam on the top of the river. In recent days, I have discovered:

* A convention of Colorado River states that met in Salt Lake City in 1920.

* A convention of three states that negotiated the Rio Grande River Compact. The states met informally (without legislative credentialing) in Colorado Springs in 1924. They then broke up and, after all commissioners had been fully credentialed, met again in Santa Fe at the end of 1928. They concluded a temporary compact in early 1929—the basis for the permanent Rio Grande compact that become effective in 1939.

* The North Platte River Commission, also consisting of three states, began meeting in Washington, D.C. in 1924, and then intermittently until negotiations broke down.

* The three lower basin Colorado River states—California, Arizona, and Nevada—apparently met after 1922 to resolve water issues among them, but unsuccessfully.

* Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, and Wyoming, together with a federal representative, convened in Denver beginning December 3, 1929. They successfully negotiated the Upper Colorado River Basin Compact.

* In 2003, Professor Daniel Tyler, Delphus Carpenter’s biographer, wrote: “Of the sixteen water allocation compacts negotiated and approved between 1922 and 1971, all but three followed a similar pattern developed by Carpenter of negotiation by commissioners, participation by a federal representative, and approval by Congress.”

Were All of These True Conventions of States?

Were all of these true conventions of states? I don’t know yet. For an event to qualify historically as a true convention of states, there must be actual meetings, not mere long-range contact, as in some interstate compact negotiations. Participation must be multi-lateral—that is, more than two states must take part. Participation must be authorized by each state legislature, with the legislature designating, or providing for designation, of commissioners. The gathering must be an ad hoc, temporary one, designed to address pre-designated issues.

I don’t yet have sufficient information to identify all of these conclaves as “conventions,” but it is already clear that some of them were.

Why Isn’t This More Widely Known?

You might ask: Why isn’t it more generally known that conventions of states were a regular feature of American life well into the 20th century?

Let me suggest three reasons:

(1) Historically, some conventions have been designated by different labels. Prior to establishment of the federal Congress as a national institution, conventions frequently were called “congresses,” although they were called conventions as well. History books label the 1765 gathering as the “Stamp Act Congress,” not the Stamp Act Convention—even though contemporaries regularly referred to it as a “congress or convention.” Throughout our history, some conventions have been called “commissions” and a few referred to as “committees.” The unintended effect has been to distract people from their common nature.

(2) Most of these gatherings addressed narrow topics not of universal interest. This was true even of the Colorado River Compact Commission. The water was, and is, of supreme importance to many Westerners. But it is of little concern to the Eastern elite that traditionally control the media, the foundations, the federal bureaucracy, and academia—and therefore the national flow of information.

(3) Those who control the flow of information have vested interests in central control of other aspects of life as well. It is certainly against their interest to inform people that states can solve problems without federal direction. Many view a convention of states in particular as a threat to their influence. Hence they try to convince you that it would be an untried, dangerous mechanism.

In fact, conventions of states represent a venerable American tradition—older than the Constitution itself, and extending well into very modern times.