Lesser Solution: Well-meant Window Dressing?

Against two direct means of undoing Roe's usurper mischief – Supreme Court repentance and self-correction or constitutional amendment – the House of Representatives proposes a federal statute banning many abortions after 20 weeks gestation (but not most abortions because, after all, most abortions occur before 20 weeks, and not all abortions after 20 weeks).

Congress has previously considered significant abortion legislation, and adopted a few significant abortion-related bills. Among those bills, there have been ones finding that human life begins at conception and that conceived humans are persons under the Constitution, and others have been proposed limiting the jurisdiction of federal trial and appellate courts to hear challenges to state laws imposing restrictions on abortion. Those proposed bills never passed Congress.

Congress has also entertained the possibility of propounding constitutional amendments to the States on the topic. No amendment has passed out from the Congress to the States for ratification.

That Congress could act to restrict, to restrain, to reduce, abortion funding, international abortion services, and the like, is obvious. The Hyde Amendment, for example, has been part of federal law for nearly four decades, and prevents Medicaid funding of most abortions. In addition to the Hyde Amendment funding restriction, Congress also imposed a restriction on abortion referrals by contractors participating in Title X Family Planning programs.

Congress has also imposed a restriction on the barbaric "intact dilation and extraction" abortion, the so called "partial birth abortion." That ban survived constitutional scrutiny when the Supreme Court considered challenges to it in Gonzales v. Carhart.

Now, with Roe having remained a viable decision of the Court for four decades, we might be inclined to forget that killing children before birth has not always been legal in the United States. Harry Blackmun's phony history of abortion regulation, painfully misstated in Roe v. Wade notwithstanding, abortion always was a criminal enterprise in the United States. When the colonies declared their independence from Britain, they immediately adopted English Common Law as the rule of decision for such matters. In turn, at least since the publication of the Fleet Street Commentaries on the Law, around the end of the thirteen century, English Common Law treated abortions performed after "quickening" as felonies. (In fact, in the Christian West, since the time of the Apostles, abortion was always taught to be a moral wrong; in the Didache, or the Teaching of the Twelve, the teaching is precise: "you shall not murder a child by abortion nor kill that which is born").

Once the States began enacting statute law to modify the English Common Law, they simply transformed the criminal prohibition of abortion from the common law framework to a statutory framework. Missouri, for example, which was admitted into the Union in 1821, included a criminal prohibition of abortion virtually immediately, with the Legislature's enactment of its first criminal code. States that had not adopted criminal codes prohibiting abortion continued to treat abortion under their common law as a crime until criminal abortion statutes were adopted.

It was not until Roe v. Wade that the Supreme Court usurped to the federal leviathan the power of the States to regulate the crime of abortion. Until then, there was no reasonable question but that the States had, when drafting and ratifying the Constitution, retained to themselves plenary power to enact criminal laws for the regulation of public health, safety and morals. In fact, until Roe v. Wade, it would have been thought, by legal theorists, a queer notion to ask by what right the States enacted a criminal code restriction on abortion. Indeed, until the newspeak of the radical abortion legalization movement dominated the Supreme Court, the odd notion would have been that Congress had power to regulate and criminalize conduct historically within the exclusive province of State regulation.

And that last, my friends, is the disconcerting rub of the PCUCPA. By what power, by what right, does Congress enact a criminal statute regulating conduct that, until Roe v. Wade, was certainly the sole prerogative of the States to regulate or to prohibit? If there are legitimate methods for the federal Congress to do so, those methods arise from specific powers granted to Congress in the Constitution. In the PCUCPA, the pre-ambulatory matter expressly states that Congress relies on its Commerce Clause power and its Enforcement Clause power. Section Five of the Fourteenth Amendment -- the Enforcement Clause -- expressly grants to Congress the power to enforce the provisions of the Amendment.

Historically, Congress has employed its Commerce Clause power in certain cases of clear interstate criminal activity. The Mann Act prohibits interstate transportation for the purposes of prostitution. Such a restriction states clearly the connection between the harm to be addressed and the power of Congress to address it. The harm Congress addressed in the Mann Act was transporting women across State lines to put them to work as prostitutes in the early 20th Century American sex trade.

The PCUCPA, other than the assertion in its preamble that Congress relies on its Commerce Clause power, does not use language typical of enactments that depend on a nexus with interstate commerce sufficient to justify a federal legislative solution.

Consider, for example, the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act of 2000. Following the Supreme Court’s decision striking down a provision of an earlier Act, the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, that created a cause of action against States and localities in certain cases arising from conflicts from demands of government inconsistent with private religious duty, Congress passed, and President Clinton signed RLUIPA into law. To anchor this new law to a clearly permissible base of power, Congress rested its authority on the Spending Clause and the Commerce Clause. In each case, Congress used language quite typical to such exercises.

Here is the relevant portion of RLUIPA:

Title 42 USC § 2000cc—Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act(a) SUBSTANTIAL BURDENS.— 

(1) GENERAL RULE.—No government shall impose or implement a land use regulation in a manner that imposes a substantial burden on the religious exercise of a person, including a religious assembly or institution, unless the government demonstrates that imposition of the burden on that person, assembly, or institution— 

(A) is in furtherance of a compelling governmental interest; and  

(B) is the least restrictive means of furthering that compelling governmental interest. 

(2) SCOPE OF APPLICATION.—This subsection applies in any case in which— 

(A) the substantial burden is imposed in a program or activity that receives Federal financial assistance, even if the burden results from a rule of general applicability;  

(B) the substantial burden affects, or removal of that substantial burden would affect, commerce with foreign nations, among the several States, or with Indian tribes, even if the burden results from a rule of general applicability; or  

(C) the substantial burden is imposed in the implementation of a land use regulation or system of land use regulations, under which a government makes, or has in place formal or informal procedures or practices that permit the government to make, individualized assessments of the proposed uses for the property involved.

Notice the language underlined in paragraph (a)(2)(A)?

That language ties the statutory duty to federal funding. It is typical of exercises of the Spending Clause. The notion is probably familiar to you. You may recall a time when the legal drinking age in virtually every State was 18 years of age. Congress tied receipt of federal funds to a raised drinking age of 21 and virtually every State followed along. In like vein, when the campaign to reduce highway driving speeds to 55 miles per hour needed an assist, Congress tied receipt of federal highway funds to the enactment of a State maximum speed limit of 55 miles per hour, and again, the States went along.

No violation of State sovereignty prohibited by the Constitution occurs when Congress entices States to adopt laws by offering funding or other benefits; these are not cases of the carrot and the stick, but of the carrot being offered to entice desired behavior from the 50 “horses.”

Now, notice the language italicized language in paragraph (a)(2)(B)?

That language ties the statutory duty to interstate commerce. That kind of language insures that Congress is not overreaching when it acts under the Commerce Clause. It is the typical and usual language in such cases.

As passed by the House, however, the PCUCPA does not, for example, limit itself to those abortions in, or affecting, interstate commerce. Such language is more than typical, it is a significant precursor to any judicial evaluation of whether the PCUCPA can survive scrutiny as an exercise of the Commerce Power. Merely asserting that a power of Congress justifies a particular statute does not resolve the question. If the PCUCPA is to survive such scrutiny, then this bill need substantial buttressing in the form of more formal language regarding the nexus to interstate commerce powers of Congress.

I doubt, as well, that a claim that the PCUCPA is an exercise of the Enforcement Clause power of Congress under the Fourteenth Amendment. The Fourteenth Amendment, in Section Five, grants to Congress the power to enact legislation enforcing the Amendment:

The Congress shall have power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article.

If the PCUCPA advances in Congress, questions will arise about the basis on which Congress acts. In fact, those questions are already being raised. Professor Jonathan Adler, of Case Western Reserve University School of Law, tweeted:

“Q for conservatives upset about pulling of abortion bill: Where's the enumerated power that lets Congress do such a thing?”

While that puts the question rather broadly, rather than providing a tight focus on Congress’ Enforcement Clause power, it does show that some are keeping their eye on the ball, even if it is not yet clear which power, enumerated or imagined, upon which the PCUCPA may be enacted.

Questions related to the Enforcement Clause basis for the PCUCPA cannot be gainsaid, ignored, or whistled past as though such questions were the tombstones of a cemetery on moonless night. Particularly where the Congress so seldom addresses the problem of legalized abortion, we should have a reasoned discussion on such questions as whether the PCUCPA constitutes an exercise of the Congress' Section 5 power, whether that exercise is a legitimate one, and whether the Supreme Court would sustain the Act in a challenge to its constitutionality.

For my part, having given the questions some thought, and the law related to them some consideration, I am not convinced that the PCUCPA constitutes a legitimate exercise of the Enforcement Clause power. At least, I am fairly convinced that the Supreme Court will not, without a sea change, hold that the PCUCPA is a constitutionally valid exercise of that power.

We are not without guidance from the Supreme Court regarding its views on legitimacy of Congress’ invocation of the Enforcement Clause power.When the Religious Freedom Restoration Act came before the Supreme Court, the Court examined the claim that Congress exercised its Enforcement Clause powers in enacting RFRA. Under RFRA, Congress imposed on both the federal government and the States certain duties when confronted with claims that government action imposed a substantial burden on the exercise of religion. In City of Boerne v. Flores, the Supreme Court considered a Texas city’s argument that Congress had overreached when it imposed such duties on States and localities as an exercise of its Enforcement Clause power.

The Supreme Court has used a fairly straightforward explanation of when Congress has properly invoked its Enforcement Clause power. Because of the language of Section Five, the Court evaluates Congressional actions to discern whether its actions are remedial in nature – curing past wrongs – or whether they are substantive in nature – creating new rights or obligations not previously embodied in law. To clarify, a doctor gives you antibiotics to cure or remedy a bacterial infection; she gives you a vaccination to prevent a new or different infection.

In City of Boerne, the answer to the question whether the duty Congress imposed on States and localities was remedial or substantive ultimately came down to Justice Kennedy’s conclusion that RFRA created a new statutory legal obligation for States and localities and granted a new, statutory cause of action or defense to religious claimants. For that reason, the Court concluded that RFRA constituted a substantive enactment was beyond the scope of the Enforcement Clause power of Congress. Here is the central passage on this point:

Regardless of the state of the legislative record, RFRA cannot be considered remedial, preventive legislation, if those terms are to have any meaning. RFRA is so out of proportion to a supposed remedial or preventive object that it cannot be understood as responsive to, or designed to prevent, unconstitutional behavior. It appears, instead, to attempt a substantive change in constitutional protections.

To fully grasp why RFRA’s application to the States worked a “substantive change in constitutional protections,” it must be remembered that RFRA was, itself, an effort by Congress to undo the harms it associated with a prior Supreme Court decision. America’s religious communities and many religious liberties experts viewed that decision, Employment Division v. Smith, as having struck a terrible blow against religious freedom, making a nullity of the Free Exercise Clause.

Smith addressed unemployment compensation claims by two drug counselors dismissed from private employment when it was learned that they used peyote as part of Native American religious rituals. Earlier Supreme Court cases had provided a more genial construction of the Free Exercise Clause, under which the denial of such benefits would be subject to a severe form of constitutional review usually associated with rejection of the State’s position. In Smith, however, Justice Scalia set out a greatly narrowed interpretation of the Clause and of the Court’s own prior cases, leaving the unemployed drug counselors high and dry as to their compensation claims.

Three years after Smith, Congress responded by enacting RFRA. President Clinton signed RFRA into law. RFRA bound the federal government and the States to the pre-Smith law and decisions, essentially rejecting the Court’s decision there. RFRA, in fact, created a statutory cause of action that had not previously existed as a means of vindicating religious freedom rights against the federal government, States and localities. It was the application of RFRA to the States that the Court found to be an overreach, based on its conclusion that it was a substantive enactment, rather than a remedial one.

Turning back to the PCUCPA, the questions asked in City of Boerne about RFRA must be asked about the House’s bill. Is it merely remedial? Or, does it create a new substantive right.

To ask the question is to answer it.

The Supreme Court has stuck fastidiously to its “central holding in Roe.” Justices O’Connor, Kennedy and Souter summarized that central holding this way:

It must be stated at the outset and with clarity that Roe's essential holding, the holding we reaffirm, has three parts. First is a recognition of the right of the woman to choose to have an abortion before viability and to obtain it without undue interference from the State. Before viability, the State's interests are not strong enough to support a prohibition of abortion or the imposition of a substantial obstacle to the woman's effective right to elect the procedure. Second is a confirmation of the State's power to restrict abortions after fetal viability, if the law contains exceptions for pregnancies which endanger a woman's life or health. And third is the principle that the State has legitimate interests from the outset of the pregnancy in protecting the health of the woman and the life of the fetus that may become a child. These principles do not contradict one another; and we adhere to each.

If the PCUCPA is to be sustained by the Supreme Court, and if the Court will sift the Act and its purposes for a basis in the Enforcement Clause power of Congress, then the Court will, unless it abandons Planned Parenthood v. Casey (a development that I would welcome), evaluate the PCUCPA in light of Roe’s central holding. If it does, the Court will confront the contentious dispute over viability.

Viability at 22 weeks, with appropriate medical treatment, was noted in a recent study covered by the New York Times here. (Lower federal courts continue to follow Casey and its Roe centrality reasoning. On May 27, 2015, the US Court of Appeals for the Eighth Circuit agreed with a federal trial court that a ban on abortions later than 12 weeks gestation violated Casey’s viability of the fetus holding. In fact, on May 29, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals issued a decision affirming a trial court injunction preventing enforcement of an Idaho statute banning most abortions after 20 weeks. That statute, as with the one we are examining, was a Pain-Capable Unborn Child Protection Act.)

If the Court does as its own cases and history teaches us it will, then the Court is not likely to agree that Congress – by adopting the 20 week framework – is adhering to Roe’s central holding as to viability. On that basis alone, the Court would likely find the PCUCPA an overreach. To do otherwise would be to blink at Congress making a close judgment call on viability in an area of the law where the Court has acted the jealous guardian of the essential holdings of Roe.

More to the point, why does Congress think that we should engage in tangential maneuvering? Why make this about the possibility -- the reality -- that when white coated technicians with medical licenses hack limbs, sever heads, disembowel abdomens, there is not merely sensation, but the inexplicable unbearable overwhelming pain of the Freddy Krueger-ed to death by a State-licensed physician. Why, if this is about the Enforcement of the rights of equal protection and due process of fetal children, why not squarely set the question. Let's not be the kind of dishonest brokers of our ideas that too often have been the voice of abortion support at the Supreme Court and in the Congress. If Congress contends that this is an effort to provide a remedial solution to a problem experienced by fetal children in equal protection and in their rights, we should straight up declare that fetal children are persons under the Constitution, and that, as persons, they are entitled to this remedial action by Congress.

While the Act, if it were to become law, would be a welcome stopgap provision of law in respect of its protection for one class of fetal children, it could no more be sufficient as a complete solution than could a different Thirteenth Amendment, one that prohibited slavery only among those Africans aged 30 or older. Our history as a People tells us that what is needed to rebuke an error of Supreme proportions is more than stopgaps.

Cruz, McCain, George Romney, Ineligible Candidates for President: Drilling Down into the Natural Born Citizen Qualification for the Presidency

If an officer of the general government of the United States were inclined to comport her conduct with the requirements of the Constitution, how could she do so? Among possibilities, reliance on instinct about what the Constitution forbids and allows is an option; another would be a bit more arduous, tasking the would-be upright constitutional officer more than instinct. She could study the Constitution. She could contemplate the Constitution. She could discuss the Constitution with others, including those who shared her views and those who were amused by her views. She could hide the Constitution in her heart, so that she might not sin against it.

That approach might now guarantee success in her venture. It seems, however, better suited to an honest intention to comport with the metes and bounds of the Constitution. Our Nation’s Founders understood a mindset like that. They saw it in the Psalmist.

The Psalmist wrote, “Your words I have hid in my heart, so I might not sin against you.” This is more than placing a verse of God’s Word on the doorpost of the home, more than tucking a copy of it in the folds of his garment. Instead, he has learned God’s Word. He has read and studied it, meditated on it, considered it, incorporated it into his way of thinking. The approach he took suggests that he viewed God’s word much the same way that Jesus’ disciples would later view it. Many that came out to see Jesus, listened to His teaching, and marveled at the wonders that came to pass at His hand, departed from Him because of His saying that unless they ate of his flesh and drank of his blood they would not have life in them. Jesus, when they departed, turned to his closest followers, the disciples, and asked if they too would depart, and they responded:  “Where would we go, Master, only you have the words of life.”

With his understanding enlivened by his study and incorporation of God’s Word, David sought to live a life in accord with God’s design. Such a life, truly lived, would be one free from sin. David imperfectly approached that true living of God’s Word. His affair with Bathsheba, his murder of Bathsheba’s husband, proved that he approached perfection of life asymptotically at best.

Now, our American government officer, and we Americans alike, can and should study, understand, and enliven the Constitution. For the functionary, she must do so to comport with its requirements and limitations. For the citizen, we should do so to hold the general government accountable to the Constitution.

Picking up the Constitution and reading it through is less work than reading Psalm 119. Understanding the Constitution is less work than untangling the “begets” of the Old Testament, or the mysteries of the Book of Revelations. One good technique for acquiring a facility with the Constitution is contextual understanding. Drilling down into constitutional text, meaning and application as the needs of particular moments arise, when addressing either a constitutional crisis or a mere kerfluffle.

Mocked by many, a stalwart ragtag band of activists have pressed their contention that Barack Obama was not constitutionally eligible to be elected President. Beginning in advance of the 2008 general election, and continuing virtually to today, so called “birthers” have challenged Obama’s eligibility to be President. Their arguments are premised on either of two theories that suggest he could not meet the requirement that the President be a “natural born citizen.”

One line of attack against his eligibility, the one most often played in the media, alleges that Obama was not born in the United States. Being born in another country might, in the right circumstances, prevent the child of an American citizen from claiming US citizenship. These “foreign born birthers” are the ones who have fought for the release of the long form birth certificate that Hawaii’s Secretary of State says is located in their documentary vaults.

The other line of attack is more sophisticated. The “foreign father birthers” do not contend that Obama was born in Kenya or anywhere else other than Hawaii. For these “birthers,” including Clinton supporter Phil Berg, Obama cannot be a natural born citizen because his father was a British subject at the time of Obama’s birth, and owed allegiance to a foreign sovereign.

The questions raised by these two groups of birthers, the constitutional contentions upon which their arguments depend – coupled with the high likelihood that questions about constitutional qualifications will continue into the 2016 Presidential season – makes an evaluation of the Qualifications Clause and the Natural Born Citizen provision of it a worthwhile subject of study.

When they ratified the Constitution, the States established a tripartite general government, consisting of a Legislative Branch, an Executive Branch, and a Judicial Branch. These branches the Framers devised in Articles I, II, and III, respectively, of the Constitution. The Executive Branch, the Presidency, is set up in Article II of the Constitution. Included in that Article are a short, frankly disturbingly short, set of constitutional qualifications for election to the Presidency:

"No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States."

As you see, only Natural Born Citizens are eligible to be elected President. Love for this land, sacrifice in its service, lifetime devotion to its preservation, none of these highly significant characteristics suffices, in the absence of one being a “Natural Born Citizen.” Uncertainties on the question of what is a “Natural Born Citizen” have previously moved the United States Senate to action (more on that in a bit) and launched the cottage industry of challenges to Barack Obama’s qualification to be President.

While the waning days of the Obama presidency might mark the end of an era of pressing consideration of eligibility challenges, quite the opposite is true. First, at least two potential contenders for the 2016 Republican nomination for President face the contention of ineligibility based on questions about their status as “Natural Born Citizens:”  Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio. Second, the disputes over Obama’s eligibility reveals continuing uncertainty about the term “natural born citizen,” its meaning within the Constitution, and the power of the federal government to define – or redefine – that term.

With the 2008 presidential candidacy of John McCain, the United States Senate quietly addressed the question whether McCain was eligible, under the Constitution, to be elected president. Eligibility questions have arisen previously. For example, in 2000, some contended that the Bush-Cheney ticket was ineligible based the fact that Both Bush and Cheney resided in Texas. Contentions about McCain’s eligibility rested on other grounds. McCain was born to an American mother in the Panama Canal Zone during his American father’s naval tour of duty there. The Senate expressed its sense on the question, adopting a nonbinding resolution concluding that McCain was, in fact, a natural born citizen.

Was the Senate, correct? Was John McCain a "natural born citizen” of the United States at the time of his birth? The Senate concluded that he was. As it turns out, the question, although simply stated, does not seem to have an easily identifiable analysis and answer.

We seem to presume that questioned American citizenship is resolved simply by asking whether a person was born in America or became an American through the legal process of naturalization. At a high level of generality, that assumption holds true. Closer inspection of particular cases, however, proves that the presumption does not arise from an always binding principle.

For example, suppose a woman serves as an ambassador to the United States from another nation. During her service, and while present in the United States, suppose she gives birth to a daughter. Customarily, although she is “present” in the United States, that is, physically she is within the territory of the United States, she is not “subject to the jurisdiction” of the United States. This conclusion reflects the Law of Nations by which the exchange of emissaries – ambassadors, consuls, and special representatives – is possible. That customary rule clothes such individuals with immunity to the law of the nation to which they have been dispatched.

So, then, what is the citizenship of a child born to a foreign ambassador present in a foreign land? Again, while state simply, the question is not necessarily answered simply. As it turns out, the answer depends on which of two approaches to citizenship the ambassador’s home country has adopted. Some nations follow a legal principle called jus sanguinus; others follow a contrary principle called jus soli.

Nations that follow the jus sanguinus rule tie citizenship to blood relationships. Nations that follow the jus soli rule tie citizenship to the soil on which one is born. Essentially, the rule of jus sanguinus states that what is important is not where one is born, but who one’s father is. To the contrary, the rule of jus soli states that what is important is not who one’s father is, but, instead, where one is born.

Putting aside the special circumstances of the ambassador’s baby, determining citizenship by birth, has long required clarifying the choice of law in the relevant country. To answer this question for persons claiming status as natural born citizens of the United States, we must discover the rule followed an American law, as well as address any subtleties or variations thereof.

To answer the question, we should consider what rule applied in colonial America to resolve citizenship questions and then discover whether that rule changed with America’s independence from England. We should also consider the adoption of State Constitutions and the United States Constitution: did the Constitution itself, change the governing rules for citizenship? Did the Constitution adopt a definition for “natural born citizen?”  Of course, we should also consider subsequent changes in the law – including, for example, amendments to the Constitution and judicial decisions.

The original thirteen States arose when those thirteen colonies severed their ties to the British Crown. Prior to independence, the colonies lived under the laws of England. In turn, English law derived from two sources: the long accumulation of judicial decisions extending back nearly a millennium, a body of law identified as English Common Law; and statute law, imposed by the Crown or enacted by Parliament, which we can call English Statute Law.

At independence, the Founders in every one of the thirteen newly independent States adopted English Common Law as the law for the determination of legal questions until altered or amended by State Legislatures. So, although the tyranny of England’s Crown so burdened the Founding Generation that they engaged in open rebellion and warfare, their essential identity at the time, as Englishmen, was reflected in their decision to retain the familiar body of decisional law called the English Common Law in their new, independent States. (In fact, as additional States joined the Union, virtually every State, except Louisiana, also adopted English Common Law as the body of decisional law for the determination of legal questions.)

As a historical oddity, some elements in the “foreign father birther” crowd will cite a remark by George Mason, made by him during the Virginia Ratification Convention, to the effect that we are not a common law nation. Mason helped to frame the Constitution. He shepherded the Virginia plan through the 1787 Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia. True, he did say, in a moment of rhetorical flourish, that we were not a common law country.

Mason’s flight of rhetorical flourish has to be taken in its context. When he said this, the thirteen independent States had already existed for 11 years under adopted English Common Law. His flourish cannot undo historical fact, and the Reception of English Common Law was just that, historical fact.

Under English Common Law, there was not a status of “natural born citizen.” Civil roles were defined in relation to the Crown. So English Common Law employed a different, but related, concept: “Natural Born Subject” of the Crown. Under English Common Law, every person born within the British realm had status as “Natural Born Subject,” excepting only the offspring born in the realm of foreign emissaries engaged in diplomatic service in England. This fact of English Common Law is confirmed by reference to Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Law of England. It is also confirmed by parliamentary actions. Parliament, by statute, expanded the status of “natural born subject” to certain persons born abroad, whose foreign birth, by English Common Law, would have deprived them of Natural Born Subject status. (Conferring such status served important purposes. For example, the ability to inherit hereditary lands and titles depended on one’s status as a Natural Born Subject.)

So, when the newly independent States adopted English Common Law (but not English Statute Law), they adopted the relevant legal concept, “natural born subject,” modified to suit their status as independent republics. From the foregoing, you see that England followed the rule of jus soli under English Common Law, and to the extent required by English Statute Law, it followed jus sanguinus. Thus, here in the newly independent States, the governing principle, the English Common Law principle, was jus soli.

Following independence and until the ratification by the States of the Constitution in 1790, citizenship was strictly a matter of state law considerations. Being native born, being naturalized as a citizen, each devolved entirely either on the English Common Law adopted by each State at independence (along with its principle of jus soli), or on subsequent enactments of State legislative bodies.

The States ratified the Constitution with its requirement that one must be a “natural born citizen” to be eligible to serve as President. The States omitted from the Constitution any definition of “citizen” and of “natural born citizen.” 

The States did endow on Congress the power to “provide a uniform rule of naturalization.” Congress immediately put that power to work, enacting the Naturalization Act of 1790. That Act allowed free white persons age 21 and older that had resided in the United States for at least two years to apply for naturalization. Such applications could be made to state courts and would be granted on a court’s satisfaction that the applicant was of good character. In the 1790 Act, Congress also declared that certain offspring born abroad to American citizens were “natural born citizens.”

Subsequent to the ratification of the Constitution, only one change to it touched on any question of citizenship. The Fourteenth Amendment declared that all persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to its jurisdiction were citizens of the United States and of the State in which they resided.:

"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."

That amendment, on the heels of the War Between the States, redressed an error of monumental dimensions committed by the Supreme Court of the United States. In the case Dred Scott v. Sandford, the antebellum Court struck at the compromise by which the uneasy peace of the Union was being maintained. The Court concluded that Congress had not had the power to restrict slavery in federal territories, and also concluded that Africans in America were not citizens, and could never be citizens.

Still, questions remain.

One question would be how many categories of citizenship do we have in the United States. It appears that, by operation of the Fourteenth Amendment, we have a category of “citizens” that includes all persons who are (a) born . . . in the United States and who are (b) subject to the jurisdiction of the United States. We might call these Fourteenth Amendment citizens.

Persons who are not born in the United States become citizens by naturalization. Naturalization is the legal process of making an alien into a citizen. The Naturalization Act provides that process. We call these statutory citizens.

We have not yet resolved how to move that additional step, the one from citizen to natural born citizen. If we follow the English Common Law, the answer would seem to be persons born in the United States and subject to its jurisdiction are not only Fourteenth Amendment citizens, but they are natural born citizens by operation of the common law. If, on the other hand, we follow appeals made by the “foreign fathers birthers,” then there would be one additional step in determining whether a person that is a Fourteenth Amendment citizen by birth is also a natural born citizen. That additional step would be an inquiry into the person’s parentage, particularly the citizenship of the father of the person. Such an appeal to parentage is commanded by the jus sanguinus principle discussed earlier.

With Canadian-born Ted Cruz, the son of an natural born American citizen mother and a Cuban exile father, announcing his candidacy for the Republican nomination for president in 2016, the questions are worth evaluation and resolution.