Potts v. Richardson marks a turning point in Georgia’s professionalism movement.
On its face, the case involved an application of Georgia’s anti-SLAPP statute
and the privilege afforded to communications made in connection with judicial
proceedings. But the Court of Appeals of Georgia did more than resolve a
defamation dispute. By imposing a $2,500 sanction under Rule 7(e) for what the
court deemed a frivolous appeal, it in effect sanctioned a lawyer for conduct
that violated the Georgia Lawyer’s Creed and Aspirational Statement on
Professionalism.
Georgia has been a leader in the modern professionalism movement for decades.
Central to that commitment is the Chief Justice’s Commission on Professionalism,
established in 1989 by the Supreme Court of Georgia, “with the primary charge to
enhance professionalism among Georgia’s lawyers.” Over the years, the Commission
developed CLE courses, supported orientation programs for law students, and
produced the Lawyer’s Creed and Aspirational Statement on Professionalism as the
foundational documents of professionalism in Georgia. These texts urge lawyers
to treat clients, adversaries, and courts with courtesy and respect, but they
are explicitly framed as aspirational. Justice Benham, in his concurrences in
Evanoff v. Evanoff and Butts v. State, captured this distinction, reminding the
bar that “ethics is that which is required and professionalism is that which is
expected,” and warned that, when professionalism is left to aspiration alone,
“blind and unbridled advocacy” corrodes public confidence in the courts.
Potts illustrates that Georgia courts are beginning to close the gap between
these aspirational ideals and enforceable standards. By deploying Rule 7(e)
sanctions sua sponte, the court of appeals treated Potts’s lack of civility not
merely as regrettable but as sanctionable misconduct. Judge Hodges’s concurrence
sharpened this point, casting Potts’s conduct as a cautionary tale about how
easily incivility can escalate into abusive litigation that ultimately drains
judicial resources and undermines the dignity of the profession.
This Casenote examines more than an anti-SLAPP dispute. The court of appeals’s
decision in Potts v. Richardson, reinforced by Judge Hodges’s concurrence,
reflects Georgia’s longstanding commitment to professionalism while marking a
decisive shift in how that commitment is enforced. Though the professionalism
movement once relied on aspirational statements and cultural expectations, Potts
represents something new by showing that courts are more willing to impose
consequences when lawyers disregard civility. Potts stands as a turning point in
Georgia’s professionalism movement, signaling that civility is no longer merely
encouraged but enforceable.
For decades, Georgia courts have treated Georgia Rule of Evidence 404(b) (“Rule
404(b)”) as an “evidentiary rule of inclusion,” an approach centered on the idea
that if a prior act appeared relevant, it belonged in front of the jury. This
practice was grounded in the belief that relevant prior criminal acts, like
other forms of evidence, “should not lightly be excluded when central to the
prosecution’s case.” In Wilson v. State, the Supreme Court of Georgia narrowed
the standard for the admissibility of other-acts evidence, signaling a
continuing judicial shift toward stricter evidentiary control that aligns more
closely with the federal standard.
The court rejected the State’s argument that Wilson’s desire “to rob people and
to get their things” established a valid motive and emphasized that such
reasoning amounted to the exact kind of general propensity argument that Rule
404(b) was intended to prevent. Similarly, the court clarified that evidence of
a common plan or scheme must clearly demonstrate a distinctive modus operandi,
thus raising the bar for admissibility under Rule 404(b). Wilson marks a pivotal
doctrinal change, representing the culmination of a decade-long transition away
from Georgia’s broadly inclusive approach to other-acts evidence and challenging
longstanding assumptions about the flexibility of Rule 404(b). By demanding
clear, non-character justifications for admitting other-acts evidence, the court
emphasized that Rule 404(b) must be applied narrowly to prevent its use as a
vehicle for general propensity arguments. The court’s holding in Wilson serves
as both a guidepost and a warning: broad claims of relevance will no longer make
it past the courtroom door.
Justice Kennedy’s decision to center adults’ rights in the Obergefell majority
opinion—despite his awareness of children’s legal vulnerabilities—created space
for Justice Thomas, in his Davis statement, to ignore children altogether and to
reframe the constitutional question as a clash between adults’ rights: the right
to marry and to be free from discrimination versus the right to exercise one’s
religious beliefs and to refuse to engage in conduct that abrogate those
beliefs. This distorted constitutional framing eclipses entirely the rights of
children in same-sex families and the concrete harms they will face if their
parents are barred from marrying—harms that provide a compelling justification
for overriding Davis’s asserted religious objections and liberty interests. Had
Obergefell articulated the harm to children more fully, this Article contends,
the decision might be less vulnerable to being overturned, because children’s
rights would be better positioned to operate as a constitutional check on
Davis’s religious-liberty claims.
The Court’s denial of certiorari in Davis offers Obergefell only a temporary
reprieve; yet, as this piece underscores, the current political and
jurisprudential landscape forecasts renewed efforts to overturn the epochal
ruling. In the face of persistent and coordinated challenges, defenders of
Obergefell should foreground and fully articulate the rights of children in
their same-sex families as foundational to the constitutionality of marriage
equality. Although children’s rights remain undertheorized and underdeveloped in
Supreme Court jurisprudence, their existence has been repeatedly acknowledged by
the Court, particularly in the familial context. Children’s unassailable rights
provide the compelling interest that justifies limiting religious-liberty claims
when those claims threaten the constellation of constitutional protections and
material benefits children derive from their families and filial
relationships—protections the law withholds when it prohibits their parents from
marrying.
For many Americans, the mere thought of the prison system evokes great fear and
uncertainty. The fear is justified and reflected through rampant reports of
sexual abuse, exploitation, and abuse of power by prison officials. Lack of
privacy in prisons is largely supported and expected. The general population of
prisons have unique safety concerns which require closer surveillance and
diligent observation by correctional officers. Prison officers are tasked with
ensuring that all contraband stays out of inmate possession—notwithstanding the
constant changes of the general population. The security interests of a prison
also extend to prison visitors. The known security concerns that exist and
require greater regulation in prisons create a distinctly unfortunate
opportunity for abuse of incarcerated persons by prison officers and staff.
Inmates are uniquely vulnerable without access to the outside world or autonomy
of daily decisions, and officers possess both great authority and discretion to
use it.
Women are particularly vulnerable to sexual violence in prisons; this risk is
even greater for women with a prior history of sexual abuse. It is estimated
that 70% of guards in women’s federal prisons are male, which creates a strong
opportunity for abuse of authority. Human rights activist groups have expended
great effort to expose the sexual misconduct that happens in prisons.
Ironically, our correctional facilities are not exactly correcting behavior for
those incarcerated. Instead, our facilities are overcrowded and underfunded,
doing nothing but housing the criminally convicted. The prevalence of sexual
abuse and other officer misconduct in prisons creates more issues for inmates
upon release, undermining the efficiency and operation of the prison system’s
purpose. The psychological harm which stems from prison rape has adverse impact
on our communities. The trauma of being sexually assaulted in prison increases
the risk of suicide and the risk of becoming violent later. Some prisons have
shifted to designating certain security officer positions to be female-only to
reduce the likelihood of sexual abuse. It is unclear whether the reduction of
male officers in female prisons is effective, especially because there is
widespread misconduct and abuse by prison officers irrespective of gender.
Copyright, as a body of law, is a recent development in the human consciousness,
originating in 1710 with England’s Statute of Anne. Nevertheless, in the three
hundred years that followed, more copyright laws were enacted than murder
statutes throughout recorded history. With these successive statutes,
corporations have effectuated the largest land grab ever seen. Modern copyright
law is the elephant in the room in discussions of wealth inequality,
perpetuating evil inside and between countries. Moreover, it has deprived
humanity of cultural roots, locking ideas behind a paywall that funnels wealth
to the few and stymies ingenuity through the sterilization of the public domain.
This theft of art and culture is the result of successive reforms, funded by
skillful corporate lobbying disguised as the protection of artists.
Nevertheless, intellectual property (“IP”) need not have ended up this way, and
recent technological developments in artificial intelligence (“A.I.”) have
pushed these laws to the breaking point. This system, built on “a kind of
schizophrenia” and legal doublespeak presented through forked tongues, has
reached its haziest frontier with A.I. This paper does not attempt to resolve
issues of A.I. copyright under the present framework because, fundamentally, the
present structure “can only be seen as a temporary workaround to a problem that
has no solution under current laws.” Instead, by analyzing the historical
development of copyright, intentions behind its creation, evils of its present
form, and economics of the modern world, this paper proposes two solutions for
the necessary reform of the system: first, copyright abolition or, second, a
return to the limitations imposed by the first American copyright law.
Imagine a child’s shape sorter toy—the kind with square, circle, and
triangle-shaped holes and equivalent pegs in the same shapes. The toy forms a
foundation in a child’s development because, among other things, it teaches the
child to problem-solve by (1) recognizing the problem (different-shaped pegs
that must go in the sorter a certain way) and (2) solving it (placing each peg
in the correct hole to sort the pegs). For simplicity’s sake, let us imagine the
toy only has a square and circle-shaped hole with square and circle-shaped pegs.
As the child intuitively learns the “rules” of the toy, the child learns what
works: the square peg must go into the square hole, and the circle peg must go
in the circular hole. The child also learns what does not work: the square peg
cannot go in the circular hole, and the circular peg cannot go in the square
hole.
Now imagine the same toy—only having the square and circle-shaped holes—but it
has additional shaped-pegs (triangle, trapezoid, and rectangle) to go with it.
Evidently, the toy manufacturer must be trying to confuse the child. “How does a
triangle fit into a circle?” the child asks himself. Now the child’s mind is in
a tailspin. What he once learned is now discombobulated. Put simply, the toy is
now a guessing game.
The Supreme Court of Georgia’s recent holding in Fleureme v. City of Atlanta
("Fleureme II") creates similar headaches for litigants, giving them more “pegs”
(potential avenues to serve notice) than “holes” (successful avenues for serving
notice). Imagine a claimant in Atlanta, Georgia, is injured and wishes to sue
the city for those injuries. The claimant retains counsel who advises the
claimant that he must send the requisite ante litem notice to the municipality.
The attorney performs research to determine all the statute’s requirements that
must be satisfied. He finds Fleureme II, which holds that a claimant’s ante
litem notice satisfies the statute’s service requirements if the claimant
substantially complies with the statute, meaning absolute precision is not
required. The court in Fleureme II determined that an ante litem notice
addressed to “Office of the Mayor” substantially complied with the statute.
Counsel writes up the ante litem notice to send to the municipality and
addresses the notice to “City Hall” because he believes that doing so
substantially complies with the statute. The city never received the notice
because the mail handler did not know where to send the notice. The city could
not research the incident giving rise to the claimant’s potential claim against
the city. And since the claim has not properly been served to the requisite
official, the claimant risks losing what may have otherwise been a valid claim,
simply because service could not be properly effectuated. This is the primary
risk in Fleureme II’s aftermath.
The court in Fleureme II eliminated “hyper-technical” compliance with the
statute’s addressing requirements to focus on the merits of claims.4 But in
doing so, it gives rise to legitimate procedural concerns in the future that the
statute originally curtailed.
The Framers designed America’s legal system with the belief that no one, not
even the government, is above the law. The right to hold government officials
accountable before a court reflects the Framers’ vision that justice resides in
the people themselves. Unfortunately, countless citizens who suffer excessive
force are barred from presenting their stories to the jury. Nowhere is the clash
between liberty and authority more visible than in encounters between police and
citizens. Every day, those who wear the badge are forced to make difficult
judgment calls in volatile situations.
In 2024, 147 officers lost their lives in the line of duty. Each death is a
stark reminder that maintaining public safety comes at a cost. These officers
were not faceless enforcers of the law; they were fathers, mothers, sons, and
daughters who gave their lives in service to their communities. Police officers
are not the only ones who face harm. In that same year, 1,365 people lost their
lives during an encounter with law enforcement. Each of those individuals was
someone the officer had sworn to protect. Their deaths underscore the deadly
stakes of modern policing.
To reduce these tragedies, the Supreme Court of the United States defined the
boundaries the Constitution places on police conduct. Excessive-force
jurisprudence evaluates police uses of force under the Fourth Amendment’s
objective-reasonableness standard. Despite dozens of opinions from the Court,
one question has divided the lower courts: how much context is enough? Some
courts believed the answer was just the very moment the officer deployed force,
while others looked more broadly into the encounter. In an effort to clarify,
the Supreme Court held that courts must analyze the totality of the
circumstances of the encounters. By doing this, the Court changed the way that
claims of excessive force will be examined for many years to come.
The Supreme Court of Georgia dealt a swift blow to the Court of Appeals of
Georgia’s interpretation of judgmental immunity in a recent decision. For over
three decades, the court of appeals recognized a subjective defense that
shielded attorneys from liability for mistakes made while representing a client.
Under this interpretation of judgmental immunity, attorneys prevailed on motions
for summary judgment by demonstrating that they had exercised their honest
professional judgment in making the challenged decision. Now, in Cox-Ott v.
Barnes & Thornburg, LLP, a unanimous opinion by the supreme court held that
attorneys are no longer entitled to the protections of the judgmental immunity
doctrine, as interpreted by the court of appeals. Gone are the days when
attorneys prevailed in malpractice suits solely on a showing of honest
professional judgment and decision-making. The supreme court has held that the
standard for attorneys in malpractice actions is whether their conduct falls
below the standard of reasonable care in the legal profession.
By redefining this defense, the supreme court has increased attorneys’ exposure
to malpractice litigation for their conduct while representing clients.
Attorneys will be less likely to succeed on motions for summary judgment and
will face various professional and financial repercussions arising from
malpractice suits. Georgia lawyers’ best practice should be to carefully
document the research and investigation underlying their judgments to protect
against potential malpractice suits. The redefinition of judgmental immunity
will also likely increase the cost of settling malpractice claims, raise
malpractice insurance costs, and lead to more arbitration clauses in engagement
agreements. The supreme court’s redefinition of judgmental immunity will
ultimately reshape the risks attorneys across Georgia face in client
representation and have far-reaching effects on attorney conduct.
For decades, Georgia courts have treated Georgia Rule of Evidence 404(b) (“Rule
404(b)”) as an “evidentiary rule of inclusion,” an approach centered on the idea
that if a prior act appeared relevant, it belonged in front of the jury. This
practice was grounded in the belief that relevant prior criminal acts, like
other forms of evidence, “should not lightly be excluded when central to the
prosecution’s case.” In Wilson v. State, the Supreme Court of Georgia narrowed
the standard for the admissibility of other-acts evidence, signaling a
continuing judicial shift toward stricter evidentiary control that aligns more
closely with the federal standard.
The court rejected the State’s argument that Wilson’s desire “to rob people and
to get their things” established a valid motive and emphasized that such
reasoning amounted to the exact kind of general propensity argument that Rule
404(b) was intended to prevent. Similarly, the court clarified that evidence of
a common plan or scheme must clearly demonstrate a distinctive modus operandi,
thus raising the bar for admissibility under Rule 404(b). Wilson marks a pivotal
doctrinal change, representing the culmination of a decade-long transition away
from Georgia’s broadly inclusive approach to other-acts evidence and challenging
longstanding assumptions about the flexibility of Rule 404(b). By demanding
clear, non-character justifications for admitting other-acts evidence, the court
emphasized that Rule 404(b) must be applied narrowly to prevent its use as a
vehicle for general propensity arguments. The court’s holding in Wilson serves
as both a guidepost and a warning: broad claims of relevance will no longer make
it past the courtroom door.
Potts v. Richardson marks a turning point in Georgia’s professionalism movement.
On its face, the case involved an application of Georgia’s anti-SLAPP statute
and the privilege afforded to communications made in connection with judicial
proceedings. But the Court of Appeals of Georgia did more than resolve a
defamation dispute. By imposing a $2,500 sanction under Rule 7(e) for what the
court deemed a frivolous appeal, it in effect sanctioned a lawyer for conduct
that violated the Georgia Lawyer’s Creed and Aspirational Statement on
Professionalism.
Georgia has been a leader in the modern professionalism movement for decades.
Central to that commitment is the Chief Justice’s Commission on Professionalism,
established in 1989 by the Supreme Court of Georgia, “with the primary charge to
enhance professionalism among Georgia’s lawyers.” Over the years, the Commission
developed CLE courses, supported orientation programs for law students, and
produced the Lawyer’s Creed and Aspirational Statement on Professionalism as the
foundational documents of professionalism in Georgia. These texts urge lawyers
to treat clients, adversaries, and courts with courtesy and respect, but they
are explicitly framed as aspirational. Justice Benham, in his concurrences in
Evanoff v. Evanoff and Butts v. State, captured this distinction, reminding the
bar that “ethics is that which is required and professionalism is that which is
expected,” and warned that, when professionalism is left to aspiration alone,
“blind and unbridled advocacy” corrodes public confidence in the courts.
Potts illustrates that Georgia courts are beginning to close the gap between
these aspirational ideals and enforceable standards. By deploying Rule 7(e)
sanctions sua sponte, the court of appeals treated Potts’s lack of civility not
merely as regrettable but as sanctionable misconduct. Judge Hodges’s concurrence
sharpened this point, casting Potts’s conduct as a cautionary tale about how
easily incivility can escalate into abusive litigation that ultimately drains
judicial resources and undermines the dignity of the profession.
This Casenote examines more than an anti-SLAPP dispute. The court of appeals’s
decision in Potts v. Richardson, reinforced by Judge Hodges’s concurrence,
reflects Georgia’s longstanding commitment to professionalism while marking a
decisive shift in how that commitment is enforced. Though the professionalism
movement once relied on aspirational statements and cultural expectations, Potts
represents something new by showing that courts are more willing to impose
consequences when lawyers disregard civility. Potts stands as a turning point in
Georgia’s professionalism movement, signaling that civility is no longer merely
encouraged but enforceable.
In Maryland v. Wilson, the United States Supreme Court held that a police
officer may order a passenger of a lawfully stepped car to exit the vehicle.
This "bright-line rule" allows these intrusions as a matter of course and does
not require case-by-case determination.
Four factors were influential in my decision to write this survey paper
summarizing what economists believe theoretically and have found empirically to
be the major economic (and noneconomic) effects of monopoly. First, in my work
as an expert witness in antitrust cases representing both private parties and
public bodies, I have found a glaring lacuna in the minds of some judges, a
number of lawyers and most jurors in the area of antitrust economics. Second,
this feeling has been fortified by my guest lectures in antitrust law courses;
while the students are bright and the teacher dedicated, an acceptable level of
competence in antitrust economics had successfully evaded its pursuers. Third,
my reading of several law journals has convinced me that there are a large
number of legally competent antitrust lawyers who are not very familiar with
antitrust economics.
Finally, I was motivated by the growing realization that people do not regard
antitrust violations as very serious. The July 1974 issue of SCIENCE DIGEST
reported a cross-section study of Baltimore residents in which the respondents
were asked to rate the seriousness of crimes from 9 (most serious) to 1 (least
serious). The highest mean score recorded was "planned killing of a policeman"
(8.474), and the lowest mean score was "being drunk in public places" (2.849).
Of the 140 crimes listed three were of an antitrust genus. "Fixing prices of a
consumer product like gasoline" ranked 126 from the top (4.629), "fixing prices
of machines sold to businesses" ranked 127 (4.619), and "false advertising of a
headache remedy" ranked 132 (4.083). Offenses such as "breaking a plate glass
window in a shop," "refusal to make essential repairs in rental property,"
"shoplifting a carton of cigarettes from a supermarket," "driving while license
is suspended," "lending money at illegal interest rates," "joining a riot," and
"using pep pills" are each regarded as more serious than the antitrust
violations!
In Part I we will explore in some detail the economic (and some noneconomic)
effects of monopoly. In Part II we will examine briefly public policies toward
monopoly.
Social media platforms have overturned the previously known system of public
communication. As predicted at the outset, the spread of the public Internet
that started three decades ago has resulted in a paradigm shift in this field.
Now, anyone can publish their opinion outside the legacy media, at no
significant cost, and can become known and be discussed by others. Due to the
technological characteristics of the Internet, it might also be expected that
this kind of mass expression, with such an abundance of content, would
necessitate the emergence of gatekeepers, similar in function to the ones that
existed earlier for conventional media. The newsagent, post office, and cable or
satellite services have been replaced by the Internet service provider, the
server (host) provider and the like. However, no one could have foreseen that
the new gatekeepers of online communication would not only be neutral
transmitters or repositories but also active shapers of the communication
process, deciding on which user content on the Internet they deemed undesirable
and deciding which content, out of all the theoretically accessible content, is
actually displayed to individual users. Content filtering, deleting, blocking,
suspending, and ranking are all types of active interference with the exercise
of users’ freedom of speech and practices which also affect the interests of
other users in obtaining information. All this became an even greater and more
difficult-to-manage issue when, in certain sub-markets of the Internet, certain
giant tech companies’ services gained a monopoly or came close to doing so. This
process has emerged in connection with gatekeepers of a specific type: the most
important online platforms (social media, video sharing, search engines, web
stores). In this way, a new, unexpected obstacle to the exercise of freedom of
speech appeared, with the result that the earlier constitutional doctrines could
no longer be applied without any change. The crux of the problem is that the
platforms are privately owned. In formal terms, they are simply market players
which are not bound by the guarantees of freedom of speech imposed on public
bodies and which may enjoy the protection of freedom of speech themselves.
The availability of assassination of foreign leaders as a means of achieving
United States foreign policy objectives is an issue that has proven in recent
years to be a recurring one. However, it does not arise in isolation; instead it
is almost always part of a larger political controversy over United States
foreign policy objectives and whether force of any kind should be used to pursue
them. Certainly this was true with regard to the controversies that surrounded
United States policy, including alleged involvement in assassination plots
toward Cuba, Vietnam, the Congo, and the Dominican Republic in the 1960s, and
toward Chile in the early 1970s. It is also true, though to a lesser degree, of
more recent debates concerning the United States air strike against Libya in
April 1986 and the role of the United States in Panama prior to the December
1989 invasion. In each case there was, or later developed, significant
disagreement over the appropriateness of United States policy toward the nation
involved and over the use of force to induce changes in the nature or activities
of its government.
Inevitably, such disagreements have tended to distract attention from the manner
in which force might be applied; if the chosen objective appears not to be a
legitimate one or if the use of force seems unjustified, the relative merit of
an -attack on a military installation, for example, as seriously or productively
considered. The recent war in the Persian Gulf has again revived the controversy
and provided a new opportunity for debate. This time, however, the issue
appeared more starkly framed than previously. Public doubt as to the legitimacy
of the immediate objective-the ejection of Iraq from Kuwait-was for the most
part absent, and although there was disagreement about the timing and amount of
coercion to be used, force was generally perceived as a legitimate option. The
American public perceived Iraqi President Saddam Hussein, hardly a sympathetic
image, as probably the least ambiguous villain of the second half of the
twentieth century. Unchallenged by any significant political opposition prior to
the war, he appeared as the sole instigator of Iraq's seizure of Kuwait, as well
as the cause of its intransigence in the face of international insistence that
it withdraw.
It is understandable that a reader may be puzzled by the title of this study.
American lawyers are undoubtedly familiar with the notion of "constitutional"
courts established under Article III of the Constitution.1 They also are likely
to recall another class of federal tribunals, created by virtue of the
legislative authority vested in Congress by Article I of the Constitution.'
However, few lawyers and scholars are aware that there exists a third class of
courts created by the Constitution. These are executive courts that, from time
to time in the Republic's history, have been formed to administer justice, in
times of war or civil unrest, over territories occupied by American armed
forces.
There is no question that these tribunals have been considered anomalous, as
aberrations of established constitutional order. Indeed, little intellectual
effort has been expended in examining the constitutional place of presidential
courts. In the midst of war or its aftermath, few were brave enough to criticize
the President's establishment of courts of law. Fewer still were prepared to
argue that his power should be limited by other provisions of the Constitution.
Instead, a pattern of judicial deference begun with the establishment of the
first such court in the Mexican War of 1846 has persisted to this day.
Exceptions to this trend have been noted, and it may even be apparent that a new
constitutional practice of Article II courts has evolved. Nonetheless, the
President's power in this field has gone virtually unchallenged.
This Article carefully examines the creation, operation, and jurisprudence of
executive courts. As a first step, however, it is essential to accurately define
what is meant when one refers to an Article II court. This inquiry places in
sharp focus the traditional constitutional dichotomy between Article III
"constitutional" courts and Article I legislative tribunals. Adding presidential
courts to this matrix does not upset the analysis used heretofore; it merely
places a greater premium on identifying the constitutional source of power for
creating the court in question.
Once this Article clarifies what is and what is not an executive court, it will
introduce the historical examples of this institution. I have identified twelve
tribunals that satisfy the definition propounded here. Although most date from
the Civil War and before, four of them operated in this century, and one of them
rendered a judgment no more than twelve years ago. Undoubtedly others exist that
my research has not revealed. Each of these courts shared one thing in common:
they were established by federal authorities occupying territory as a result of
armed conflict. The constitutional problems raised by belligerent occupation,
including the maintenance of law and order and the establishment of justice,
will be considered since this provided the practical imperative for the exercise
of the President's power to constitute judicial tribunals. How the President
exercised and delegated this power is also significant. More important, however,
is to understand how the power was limited, whether by the President's own
restraint, judicial review, or the passage of time and the termination of
hostilities.