Tuesday, March 29, 2016

“John Marshall: A Life in Law”, by Leonard Baker


845 pages, Macmillan, ISBN-13: 978-0025063600

John Marshall: A Life in Law, a sprawling book by Leonard Baker (a Washington journalist and not a lawyer) is one of the many books – biographical, historical, and legal – dealing with John Marshall, the 4th Chief Justice of the United States (1801-35). It will not be the last. As “the Expounder of the Constitution”, Marshall in his years as Chief Justice handed down many controversial decisions. Praised and lauded by the Federalists, he was bitterly assailed by the Jeffersonians and the Democratic Republican press. This is important as one would be forgiven in thinking that the events and political disputes that frothed during the first decades of American independence are of interest only in understanding the history of the time; instead, many of the issues and much of the polemics of the day are still are a part of our political rhetoric and action. The tension between states and the federal government, the issue of the rights of individuals and States versus federal power, of Jeffersonian Republicanism versus the Federalist concept of centralized government, are just as alive today as they were at the turn of the 19th Century. Grover Norquist’s boast that conservative Republicans want to shrink government “down to the size where we can drown it in the bathtub” is just an echo of Jeffersonian philosophy.

Marshall was without question one of the giants of early America. He went from commanding a company in the Revolutionary Army – even wintering at Valley Forge – to serving on General Washington’s staff. He was a country boy with little formal education, whose father, also a Revolutionary war officer, owned large tracts of land in Virginia and Kentucky. His basic instruction in law was at the College of William and Mary, attending lectures for 2 months only during one summer session. Mostly self-taught, he was admitted to the bar by Thomas Jefferson (then Governor of Virginia), and began a distinguished career as a lawyer in Virginia’s new capital, Richmond. His experiences in an Army ill-equipped and starving at Valley Forge taught him that strong central government was needed for the regular and orderly management of national affairs. His extensive reading in law and history brought to him the significance of an independent judiciary. A Federalist in a land of Jeffersonians, he nevertheless fought successfully for the adoption of the federal Constitution in his home state, served in the state legislature, and eventually served as an emissary to France, as Attorney General of the United States, and, finally, as Chief Justice.

Many readers will have some familiarity with Marshall’s major constitutional opinions, so the important question is does Baker present anything new with respect to the background of these cases (the arguments of counsel, or the formulation of the opinions)? Does the Baker offer any new and fresh insights into the contemporary impact or the lasting significance of these cases? The answer to these questions is simply “No”. Baker does dwell at great length upon the significance of Marshall’s major decisions, but much of this seems a repetitious elaboration of the obvious, at least to any lawyer or historian with some knowledge of American constitutional law. In view of all that has been written about Marshall’s milestone opinions, what is there left unsaid or capable of discovery by a writer without legal training? For the reader who is looking for a readable, comprehensive, and generally sound life of John Marshall-told dramatically and somewhat romantically-will find it in the Baker volume. A reader primarily intent upon a scholarly, in-depth analysis of Marshall’s constitutional opinions had better look elsewhere. 

Monday, March 28, 2016

“Fidel: A Critical Portrait”, by Tad Szulc


703 pages, William Morrow & Co., ISBN-13: 978-0688046453

First published in 1985 and, hence, dated, Fidel: A Critical Portrait by Tad Szulc is still an exhaustive (700+ pages) and encompassing work, but, sadly, full of weaknesses from start to finish, such as vague references to unidentifiable sources, striking generalizations, and a lack of solid historical background. But perhaps the basic problem is that the author seems reluctant to renounce old illusions about Castro and his revolution, and thus his criticisms (and he does have some) are softened throughout by a flow of praise.

Szulc submerges many of the negative aspects of Castro’s character in an interminable paean to his charisma, energy, wisdom, courage, and generosity. More than 200 pages are devoted by Szulc to a loving description of Castro’s early years, only 54 to his “maturity”; the reader is thus spared no detail of the Fidel legend. We are told repeatedly that he has been brave since childhood, has a splendid memory, an overwhelming personality, and encyclopedic knowledge. Castro, Szulc writes, can dazzle bishops with his theological arguments, economists with his command of statistics, intellectuals with philosophical insight, and gourmets with recipes. Such a scholar is he that during the guerrilla campaigns in the mountains he sometimes issued his orders in Latin! True, Szulc concedes, Castro is a poor poet, but even so he won a first prize in poetry once by simply charming the jury. In short, by Szulc’s account Castro deserves to bear the motto of a Spanish knight of the 16th Century: Excedió a todos en todo; he exceeds everyone in everything.

Despite his unbounded admiration, Szulc does, it is true, adduce enough facts to demolish most of the Castro legend. He is especially forthcoming with evidence that exposes the absolute falsehood of one of the most durable myths of the Cuban revolution: the notion that it was the lack of understanding and support from the United States that pushed Castro into the Soviet embrace. Szulc demonstrates that from the very beginning, Castro had no intention of establishing a democratic government in Cuba. He carefully hid his true political intentions, going to such lengths, immediately after victory, as to establish a secret government to control Cuba. His clash with the United States was a coldly calculated move to reinforce and justify his personal power. To be sure, errors committed by Washington eased the process, but Castro’s goal had been set well in advance. In view of the evidence provided by Szulc, it can be argued that it was Castro who pushed the Soviet Union into the Caribbean and not the other way around.

It is a pity that after supplying all this valuable information on the colossal deceit perpetrated by Castro, Szulc avoids examining the most tragic consequence of that deceit. Many Cubans who believed Castro’s democratic promises paid dearly for the trust they placed in him. After his victory, leaders of the rebel army and members of the 26th of July Movement, labor leaders, and underground fighters, all found themselves facing firing squads or in prison, branded “traitors” by the leader who had betrayed them. Szulc knows this. He mentions some names from a long list of revolutionaries who were punished for remaining loyal to the initial promises made by Castro. He even alludes to the difference between the treatment meted out to political prisoners in Castro’s Cuba and the treatment Fidel himself received in Batista’s prisons, where he was allowed to read voraciously, to cook his own food, and to receive visitors. But he suspends judgment on this difference, preferring to remind us again of Fidel’s inner generosity and charisma. He cannot, however, avoid a note of melancholy in his final, summary chapter on the last 20 years in Cuba (circa 1985), and that inevitably somber tone may perhaps be more significant than anything else in the book.