Marc Andreessen’s Dormant Commerce Clause Fantasy

There’s a special kind of hubris in Silicon Valley, but Marc Andreessen may have finally discovered its purest form: imagining that the Dormant Commerce Clause (DCC) — a Constitutional doctrine his own philosophical allies loathe — will be his golden chariot into the Supreme Court to eliminate state AI regulation.

If you know the history, it borders on comedic, if you think that Ayn Rand is a great comedienne.

The DCC is a judge‑created doctrine inferred from the Commerce Clause (Article I, Section 8, Clause 3), preventing states from discriminating against or unduly burdening interstate commerce. Conservatives have long attacked it as a textless judicial invention. Justice Scalia called it a “judicial fraud”; Justice Thomas wants it abolished outright. Yet Andreessen’s Commerce Clause playbook is built on expanding a doctrine the conservative legal movement has spent 40 years dismantling.

Worse for him, the current Supreme Court is the least sympathetic audience possible.

Justice Gorsuch has repeatedly questioned DCC’s legitimacy and rejects free‑floating “extraterritoriality” theories. Justice Barrett, a Scalia textualist, shows no appetite for expanding the doctrine beyond anti‑protectionism. Justice Kavanaugh is business‑friendly but wary of judicial policymaking. None of these justices would give Silicon Valley a nationwide deregulatory veto disguised as constitutional doctrine. Add Alito and Thomas, and Andreessen couldn’t scrape a majority.

And then there’s Ted Cruz — Scalia’s former clerk — loudly cheerleading a doctrine his mentor spent decades attacking.

National Pork Producers Council v. Ross (2023): The Warning Shot

Andreessen’s theory also crashes directly into the Supreme Court’s fractured decision in the most recent DCC case before SCOTUS, National Pork Producers Council v. Ross (2023), where industry groups tried to use the DCC to strike down California’s animal‑welfare law due to its national economic effects.

The result? A deeply splintered Court produced several opinions.  Justice Gorsuch  announced the judgment of the Court, and delivered the opinion of the Court with respect to Parts I, II, III, IV–A, and V, in which Justices Thomas, Sotomayor, Kagan and Barrett joined, an opinion with respect to Parts IV–B and IV–D, in which Justice Thomas and Barrett joined, and an opinion with respect to Part IV–C, in which Justices Thomas, Sotomayor, and Kagan joined.  Justice Sotomayor filed an opinion concurring in part, in which Justice Kagan joined.  Justice Barrett filed an opinion concurring in part. Chief Justice Roberts filed an opinion concurring in part and dissenting in part, in which Justices Alito, Kavanaugh and Jackson joined. Justice Kavanaugh filed an opinion concurring in part and dissenting in part.

Got it?  

The upshot:
– No majority for expanding DCC “extraterritoriality.”
– No appetite for using DCC to invalidate state laws simply because they influence out‑of‑state markets.
– Multiple justices signaling that courts should not second‑guess state policy judgments through DCC balancing.
– Gorsuch’s lead opinion rejected the very arguments Silicon Valley now repackages for AI.

If Big Tech thinks this Court that decided National Pork—no pun intendedwill hand them a nationwide kill‑switch on state AI laws, they profoundly misunderstand the doctrine and the Court.

Andreessen didn’t just pick the wrong legal strategy. He picked the one doctrine the current Court is least willing to expand. The Dormant Commerce Clause isn’t a pathway to victory — it’s a constitutional dead end masquerading as innovation policy.

But…maybe he’s crazy like a fox.  

The Delay’s the Thing: The Dormant Commerce Clause as Delay Warfare

To paraphrase Saul Alinksy, the issue is never the issue, the issue is always delay.  Of course, if delay is the true objective, you couldn’t pick a better stalling tactic than hanging an entire federal moratorium on one of the Supreme Court’s most obscure and internally conflicted doctrines. The Dormant Commerce Clause isn’t a real path to victory—not with a Court where Scalia’s intellectual heirs openly question its legitimacy. But it is the perfect fig leaf for an executive order.

The point isn’t to win the case. The point is to give Trump just enough constitutional garnish to issue the EO, freeze state enforcement, and force every challenge into multi‑year litigation. That buys the AI industry exactly what it needs:  time. Time to scale. Time to consolidate. Time to embed itself into public infrastructure and defense procurement. Time  to become “too essential to regulate” or as Senator Hawley asked, too big to prosecute?

Big Tech doesn’t need a Supreme Court victory. It needs a judicial cloud, a preemption smokescreen, and a procedural maze that chills state action long enough for the industry to entrench itself permanently.  And no one knows that better than the moratorium’s biggest cheerleader, Senator Ted Cruz the Scalia clerk.

The Dormant Commerce Clause, in this context, isn’t a doctrine. It’s delay‑ware—legal molasses poured over every attempt by states to protect their citizens. And that delay may just be the real prize.

David Sacks Is Learning That the States Still Matter

For a moment, it looked like the tech world’s powerbrokers had pulled it off. Buried deep in a Republican infrastructure and tax package was a sleeper provision — the so-called AI moratorium — that would have blocked states from passing their own AI laws for up to a decade. It was an audacious move: centralize control over one of the most consequential technologies in history, bypass 50 state legislatures, and hand the reins to a small circle of federal agencies and especially to tech industry insiders.

But then it collapsed.

The Senate voted 99–1 to strike the moratorium. Governors rebelled. Attorneys general sounded the alarm. Artists, parents, workers, and privacy advocates from across the political spectrum said “no.” Even hardline conservatives like Ted Cruz eventually reversed course when it came down to the final vote. The message to Big Tech or the famous “Little Tech” was clear: the states still matter — and America’s tech elite ignore that at their peril.  (“Little Tech” is the latest rhetorical deflection promoted by Big Tech aka propaganda.)

The old Google crowd pushed the moratorium–their fingerprints were obvious. Having gotten fabulously rich off of their two favorites: The DMCA farce and the Section 230 shakedown. But there’s increasing speculation that White House AI Czar and Silicon Valley Viceroy David Sacks, PayPal alum and vocal MAGA-world player, was calling the ball. If true, that makes this defeat even more revealing.

Sacks represents something of a new breed of power-hungry tech-right influencer — part of the emerging “Red Tech” movement that claims to reject woke capitalism and coastal elitism but still wants experts to shape national policy from Silicon Valley, a chapter straight out of Philip Dru: Administrator. Sacks is tied to figures like Peter Thiel, Elon Musk, and a growing network of Trump-aligned venture capitalists. But even that alignment couldn’t save the moratorium.

Why? Because the core problem wasn’t left vs. right. It was top vs. bottom.

In 1964, Ronald Reagan’s classic speech called A Time for Choosing warned about “a little intellectual elite in a far-distant capitol” deciding what’s best for everyone else. That warning still rings true — except now the “capitol” might just be a server farm in Menlo Park or a podcast studio in LA.

The AI moratorium was an attempt to govern by preemption and fiat, not by consent. And the backlash wasn’t partisan. It came from red states and blue ones alike — places where elected leaders still think they have the right to protect their citizens from unregulated surveillance, deepfakes, data scraping, and economic disruption.

So yes, the defeat of the moratorium was a blow to Google’s strategy of soft-power dominance. But it was also a shot across the bow for David Sacks and the would-be masters of tech populism. You can’t have populism without the people.

If Sacks and his cohort want to play a long game in AI policy, they’ll have to do more than drop ideas into the policy laundry of think tank white papers and Beltway briefings. They’ll need to win public trust, respect state sovereignty, and remember that governing by sneaky safe harbors is no substitute for legitimacy.  

The moratorium failed because it presumed America could be governed like a tech startup — from the top, at speed, with no dissent. Turns out the country is still under the impression they have something to say about how they are governed, especially by Big Tech.