President Joe Biden has pardoned two turkeys in an annual spectacle wherein the nation's chief executive whimsically exercises his constitutional power of clemency. It's a tradition that has long had endearing aspects, including reliably corny jokes on the menu, and one that is especially important to Minnesota, where 600 turkey farms make us the largest producer of turkeys in the nation.
This year, though, those of us who work in the field of clemency are left with a bitter taste in our mouths. Biden's pardon of those turkeys represents the first time he has shown any interest at all in clemency.
The problem isn't just that Biden isn't granting any clemency, it's that he isn't denying any, either.
Following the lead of his predecessor, former President Donald Trump, Biden is just letting requests sit. While some cases have been closed administratively (largely where people are simply not eligible), not a single case has been resolved up or down through presidential action.
While this, sadly, does not distinguish Biden from either Trump or President Barack Obama in his first term, Biden is working in a different context. Right now, there are not one but two genuine crises unfolding in federal clemency.
The first is the historic backlog of unresolved petitions that has built up. That stack now contains almost 18,000 petitions (in contrast, the backlog at the start of the Obama administration was a little over 2,000). Many of those petitions have sat for five or six years without action. Too many involve long sentences for marijuana offenses — cases that should be prioritized now that marijuana is legal in many states.
Certainly, many of the pending petitions won't be and shouldn't be granted (as a former federal prosecutor, I have no doubt that some people need to be in prison), but others have great merit. I know that because with my students in a federal commutations clinic at St. Thomas Law School, I have helped prepare a small fraction of the files in that giant pile.
I know that some of those petitioners are people who got unfairly long sentences for relatively minor crimes, who have done remarkable things while incarcerated, and who have entire communities waiting to support them when they re-enter society. We have told their stories, and I have sent my students into the prisons to meet them and hear those stories. Watching those stories of redemption go unread has been its own kind of sadness.