PI + 9: A Modest Proposal to Protect Americans’ Individual Rights

INTRODUCTION

Civil liberties deserve better protection than the dubious doctrine of substantive due process. Fortunately, an underappreciated, yet significant, development is ripening within the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence surrounding the incorporation of the Bill of Rights. At least two Supreme Court Justices1See Timbs v. Indiana, 139 S. Ct. 682, 691 (2019) (Gorsuch, J., concurring) (expressing openness to revisiting the Privileges or Immunities Clause); id. (Thomas, J., concurring in the judgment) (expressing support for incorporation of the Bill of Rights via the Privileges or Immunities Clause). are willing to consider opening the Privileges or Immunities Clause door to incorporation that the Slaughter-House Cases slammed shut.2Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) 36, 74 (1873); see Don R. Willett & Aaron Gordon, Rights, Structure, and Remediation, 131 Yale L.J. 2126, 2144 (2021) (reviewing Aziz Z. Huq, The Collapse of Constitutional Remedies (2021)) (describing the Slaughter-House Cases’ construction of the Privileges or Immunities Clause as only protecting “an insignificant subset of federally created rights”). What if three more Justices changed their minds and that door swung open?

This Note provides a new methodology called the “PI + 9 Framework.” The PI + 9 Framework combines the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause (“PI”) with the Ninth Amendment (“9”) to apply the Bill of Rights to the states in a more efficient, clear, and sturdy way. This proposition is a bold, yet modest, means by which to incorporate the Bill of Rights against the states while securing unenumerated rights. The Framework is faithful to the original public meaning and original intent of the Privileges or Immunities Clause. The PI + 9 Framework focuses on the procedures by which substantive rights are secured rather than seeking untested answers that could destabilize manifold areas of law. Instead, the PI + 9 Framework seeks to ground the Bill of Rights, including unenumerated rights, in something more robust than substantive due process. The emphasis on a proper mechanism addresses justified concerns about the Privileges or Immunities Clause and the Ninth Amendment becoming a Pandora’s box.

This Note will begin by examining the only appropriate means for incorporating the Bill of Rights against the states: the Privileges or Immunities Clause. Part I conducts an in-depth textual analysis of the meaning of privileges and immunities in the context of the Privileges or Immunities Clause. Part II analyzes the case law surrounding the Clause, with a particular focus on the Slaughter-House Cases and some pertinent concurrences and dissents by Justice Black and Justice Thomas, respectively. Part III makes the case for overruling Slaughter-House based on the Supreme Court’s recent application of stare decisis factors. This Part goes factor-by-factor to argue why stare decisis should not prevent Slaughter-House from being overruled. Part IV argues for an end to substantive due process due to its poor reasoning and inability to adequately secure rights. Part V discusses how the Court should recognize unenumerated rights and considers which Ninth Amendment methodology would best identify and secure those rights. Part VI applies the PI + 9 Framework to two hypothetical fact patterns—one involving an enumerated right and the other involving an unenumerated right. A helpful chart of the Framework is included in that Part. Part VII lays out the advantages the PI + 9 Framework has over the current substantive due process regime. This Note gives the Supreme Court a guide for replacing substantive due process while preserving incorporation of the Bill of Rights and protecting the unenumerated rights that the Court is anxious about safeguarding.

I.  TEXTUAL ANALYSIS OF THE PRIVILEGES OR IMMUNITIES CLAUSE

Before analyzing the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s case law, the meaning of privileges and immunities—and the meaning of those words when used alongside one another—is worth examining.

A.  Interpreting Privileges and Immunities in Historical Context

The meaning of privileges and immunities is best explored by looking at the words’ meanings at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification—while also keeping in mind the historical usage of those words in the Anglo-American legal tradition.

  1. A Few Meanings of Privilege

The meaning of privilege at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification, 1868,3Landmark Legislation: The Fourteenth Amendment, U.S. Senate, https://www.senate.gov/about/origins-foundations/senate-and-constitution/14th-amendment.htm [https://perma.cc/24GC-EML3]. offers a guide that may be considered independently or alongside the Framers’ intent when interpreting the Privileges or Immunities Clause. A leading dictionary from around the time of ratification provided three definitions of privilege: (1) “[a] particular and peculiar benefit or advantage enjoyed by a person, company, or society, beyond the common advantages of other citizens”; (2) “[a]ny peculiar benefit or advantage, not common to others of the human race”; (3) “[a]dvantage; favor; benefit.”4Noah Webster, An American Dictionary of the English Language 780 (1867). Two additional definitions are included, but they are for privilege in its verb form. Id. Those definitions are not pertinent to the instant inquiry because the word privileges is used as a noun in the Privileges or Immunities Clause. U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1. The first and second definitions are plausible, but the third is too vague to offer meaningful guidance toward understanding the Privileges or Immunities Clause in context. The first two definitions are more precise. Additionally, the third definition does not contradict the preceding definitions; thus, its interpretive value diminishes. Therefore, two definitions of privilege remain.

  1. Privilege As a Benefit Beyond Those Held by Common Citizens

The first definition of privilege does not suit the Privileges or Immunities Clause and is better understood in the mode that privilege is used in the Speech and Debate Clause found in Article I, Section 4 of the Constitution.5See U.S. Const. art. I, § 6, cl. 1. The Speech and Debate Clause guarantees that “Senators and Representatives” shall “be privileged from Arrest” during legislative sessions and when coming from and going to those sessions—except in cases of “Treason, Felony and Breach of the Peace.”6Id. (emphasis added). This fits the first definition of privilege because the privilege granted to Senators and Representatives is not granted to common American citizens, who enjoy no such privilege.

Anglo-American jurists such as William Blackstone, Matthew Hale, and James Kent all occasionally used privilege to mean a benefit beyond those held by common citizens. For example, Blackstone described the “privilege of letters”71 William Blackstone, Commentaries *323. that allowed members of parliament to send and receive letters free of postage.8Id. Hale wrote about bishops and abbots who “had special privileges granted to them to have mints.”91 Matthew Hale, The History of the Pleas of the Crown *200 (1736). Kent mentioned the privileges consuls are entitled to, “such as for safe conduct.”101 James Kent, Commentaries on American Law 22 (Lonang Inst. 2006) (1826). James Kent also referred to the Speech and Debate Clause’s guarantee that members of Congress will be privileged from arrest during their attendance of sessions of Congress, and in coming and going from the same. Id. at 118. However, interpreting privilege in that manner in the context of the Privileges or Immunities Clause creates an incongruity. Under this inappropriate definition of privilege, the Privileges or Immunities Clause would guarantee that states could not abridge the benefits that citizens of the United States enjoyed beyond the benefits enjoyed by citizens of the United States. Inserting the first definition of privilege creates a contradiction. This preposterous result proves that privilege in the Privileges or Immunities Clause should not be interpreted as an advantage enjoyed beyond those enjoyed by common citizens.

  1. Privilege As a Peculiar Benefit or Advantage Not Common to Others of the Human Race

To determine whether a “peculiar benefit or advantage not common to others of the human race”11Webster, supra note 4, at 780. is within the Clause’s scope, the Court would need to consider which benefits or advantages of citizens of the United States fall within the Clause’s scope. Americans enjoy manifold privileges as citizens of a prosperous nation. However, regarding the Privileges or Immunities Clause, the legal privileges are the most suitable for judges to ascertain.

The writings of prominent Anglo-American jurists suggest that the second definition of privilege, as a peculiar benefit or advantage, encompasses rights. Anglo-American jurists sometimes used privilege interchangeably with rights. For example, Blackstone described “those civil privileges”121 Blackstone, supra note 7, at *129. as part of what constitutes a right found in “the declaration of our rights and liberties.”13Id. Kent mentioned the “right of trial by jury”141 Kent, supra note 10, at 182. in suits at common law, which the Seventh Amendment secures.15U.S. Const. amend. VII. Elsewhere, Kent referred to the jury trial right as a privilege. For example, Kent described some of “the inherent rights and liberties of English subjects, of which the most essential were the exclusive power to tax themselves, and the privilege of trial by jury.”162 James Kent, Commentaries on American Law 3 (Lonang Inst. 2006) (1827).

Founding-era historical evidence offers additional proof that privilege’s second definition is the most appropriate one. At the time of the American Revolution, “[t]he words rights, liberties, privileges, and immunities, seem to have been used interchangeably.”17Michael Kent Curtis, No State Shall Abridge: The Fourteenth Amendment and the Bill of Rights 64–65 (1986) (emphasis omitted). Indeed, as evidenced by Blackstone’s invocation of privilege and historical examples that predate or coincide with the American Revolution, the interchangeability of privilege and right is well-founded.18Justice Thomas provided a thorough and concise summation of the historical meaning of privilege and immunity in his concurrence in McDonald v. City of Chicago. See McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 813–19 (2010) (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment) (recounting the historical usage of privileges, immunities, and rights in the Anglo-American legal tradition).

Viewing privilege as interchangeable with right, advantage, benefit, or immunity results in an interpretation aligned with privilege’s original public meaning at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification. Under that definition, the Privileges or Immunities Clause would be understood to protect “the [rights, benefits, advantages] or [I]mmunities of citizens of the United States” from state abridgment.19U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1.

  1. A Few Meanings of Immunity

Around the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification, a leading American dictionary listed three definitions for immunity: (1) “[f]reedom or exemption from obligation”; (2) “[e]xemption from any charge, duty, office, tax, or imposition; a particular privilege or prerogative”; and (3) “[f]reedom.”20Webster, supra note 4, at 517. Like the three definitions of privilege, the first two are plausible on their faces, but the third is too vague. Moreover, like the third definition of privilege,21See discussion supra Section I.A.1. the third definition of immunity does not contradict the first or second definition. Thus, two definitions are ripe for examination.

  1. The Broader Immunity Definition Is the Best Match

The first definition of immunity is an incomplete match for how immunities is used in the Privileges or Immunities Clause.22A more fitting example of this usage of immunity—as a “[f]reedom or exemption from obligation”—is included in the second volume of William Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England. Blackstone mentioned that some private subjects who had tended to the king’s land had been granted certain immunities. Among those immunities were immunity from “toll or taxes,” “be[ing] put on juries; and the like.” 2 William Blackstone, Commentaries *99. The second and more capacious definition of immunities—“[e]xemption from any charge, duty, office, tax, or imposition; a particular privilege or prerogative”23Webster, supra note 4, at 517.—fits more naturally with other constitutional protections that existed at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification. One example precedes the Bill of Rights.

Before the ratification of the Bill of Rights, Americans enjoyed an important immunity that remains in force. Article III, Section 3 of the Constitution grants Congress the power to decide how treason is punished but provides that “no Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood.”24U.S. Const. art. III, § 3. Corruption of blood was a common-law penalty that disallowed a person adjudged of a felony or treason to inherit property or bequeath property to heirs. Max Stier, Note, Corruption of Blood and Equal Protection: Why the Sins of the Parents Should Not Matter, 44 Stan. L. Rev. 727, 729 (1992). The Constitution does not define the prohibition of Corruption of Blood as punishment for treason as a right, immunity, or anything else. The punishment is simply prohibited. Any attempt by Congress to make treason punishable by Corruption of Blood would be voided due to its conflict with the Constitution.25Judicial review would dispose of such a law in short order because “an act of the legislature, repugnant to the [C]onstitution, is void.” Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137, 177 (1803). Thus, Article III, Section 3 of the Constitution could reasonably be interpreted as providing immunity to American citizens from Corruption of Blood as a punishment for treason.

In a similar way, several provisions in the Bill of Rights provide for exemptions against certain charges and impositions. The Fifth Amendment prohibits double jeopardy and thus exempts a person from any charge of which they were already acquitted.26U.S. Const. amend. V; see also United States v. Ball, 163 U.S. 662, 671 (1896) (“[A] verdict of acquittal, although not followed by any judgment, is a bar to a subsequent prosecution for the same offence.”). The Eighth Amendment exempts or immunizes Americans from the imposition of excessive fines.27U.S. Const. amend. VIII. Even if the word rights were not synonymous with immunities, some provisions of the Bill of Rights could reasonably be interpreted as immunities.

B.  Rights, Privileges, and Immunities

Rights, privileges, and immunities were interchangeable words at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification.28See Curtis, supra note 17, 64–65. One needs to look no further than a dictionary to see that privilege and immunity were words used to define the word right.29The tenth definition of right is a “[j]ust claim; immunity; privilege; as, the rights of citizens.” Webster, supra note 4, at 858. Justice Thomas recognized this reality in his concurrence in McDonald v. City of Chicago.30See McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 813 (2010) (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment) (explaining that privileges and immunities were both synonyms for rights). Absent a showing that the Privileges or Immunities Clause means something other than what it says, the plain meaning appears to cover at least those rights enumerated in the Constitution at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification, namely those in the Bill of Rights.31Other rights are mighty enough on their own and do not require incorporation. For example, the Thirteenth Amendment’s abolition of slavery does not distinguish between public/private action or federal/state government action. See U.S. Const. amend. XIII. The Bill of Rights originally established a baseline of rights that only applied to the federal government.32Barron v. Mayor of Baltimore, 32 U.S. (7 Pet.) 243, 250 (1833), superseded by constitutional amendment, U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1. Despite the rights being limited to protection against federal government infringement, all citizens of the United States still nonetheless enjoyed those rights, albeit with application being limited to the federal government and not state governments.

The plain meaning of privileges and immunities in the Privileges or Immunities Clause is not ambiguous, but construing the Clause is trickier. Given that rights, privileges, and immunities were synonymous at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification, one would need to determine whether the Bill of Rights is within the scope of rights enjoyed by citizens of the United States that no state shall abridge.

C.  “Citizens of the United States” Sets an Appropriate Limit on the Constitution’s Abridgment of State Power

Although several interpretations of the Privileges or Immunities Clause are reasonable,33In an article on the Privileges or Immunities Clause, John Harrison identified three general categories that one could use to understand the Privileges or Immunities Clause as a substantive provision: (1) incorporating the first eight amendments to the United States Constitution; (2) protecting some natural rights such as property and contract rights; or (3) providing for rights arising out of national citizenship, which would require additional judicial construction. See John Harrison, Reconstructing the Privileges or Immunities Clause, 101 Yale L.J. 1385, 1393–94 (1992). the Clause must answer two questions. First, Are citizens of the United States the only persons whose privileges or immunities are protected from state abridgment? Second, Are states prohibited from infringing on those privileges or immunities that citizens of the United States hold? The first question asks who gets protected by the Privileges or Immunities Clause. The second question asks which rights are protected.

Justice Thomas answered the first question satisfactorily in his concurrence in McDonald v. City of Chicago.34McDonald, 561 U.S. at 850 (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment) (concluding that the Privileges or Immunities Clause “establishe[d] a minimum baseline of federal rights”). One need not search outside the same section in which one finds the Privileges or Immunities Clause to find another that operates as a more natural and efficacious anti-discrimination provision: the Fourteenth Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause.35The Equal Protection Clause guarantees that no state shall “deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1. The Supreme Court occasionally used the Equal Protection Clause to strike down discriminatory laws shortly after Slaughter-House was decided.36See, e.g., Strauder v. West Virginia, 100 U.S. 303, 310–12 (1880) (striking down a West Virginia law that prohibited Black people from serving on juries), abrogated by, Taylor v. Louisiana, 419 U.S. 522 (1975); Yick Wo v. Hopkins, 118 U.S. 356, 374 (1886) (holding that a law that was discriminatorily applied against Chinese people violated the Equal Protection Clause). Furthermore, suppose a state passed a law that only abridged the rights of noncitizens. Such abridgment may violate the Fourteenth Amendment’s commandment that no state shall “deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”37U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1; see, e.g., Sugarman v. Dougall, 413 U.S. 634, 646 (1973) (striking down a New York statute that prohibited noncitizens from having jobs in civil service because the law violated the Equal Protection Clause). The Privileges or Immunities Clause is read more naturally as a clause that establishes a “minimum baseline of federal rights” that states may not abridge.38McDonald, 561 U.S. at 850 (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment). Such a reading answers the aforementioned second question in the affirmative.

II.  PRIVILEGES OR IMMUNITIES CLAUSE CASE LAW

Any examination of the jurisprudence surrounding the Privileges or Immunities Clause must begin with the Slaughter-House Cases.39Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) 36 (1873). The majority opinion and dissents illuminate Reconstruction Era views of the Clause. Since the Court decided Slaughter-House, the few Justices who have conducted extensive historical analysis of the Clause’s legislative history have arrived at a more expansive view of the Clause.40See infra Section II.B.

A.  Slaughter-House Shuts One Door for Incorporating the Bill of Rights

In 1873, the Supreme Court in Slaughter-House held that the Privileges or Immunities Clause did not incorporate the Bill of Rights against the states.41See Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 74. Since then, the Privileges or Immunities Clause has been relegated to obsolescence.42See Harrison, supra note 33, at 1387 (“[E]very student of constitutional law quickly learns that [the Privileges or Immunities Clause] was virtually read out of [the Constitution] by the Slaughter-House Cases.”). Once, in Saenz v. Roe, the Court used the Clause to recognize a right to travel43See Saenz v. Roe, 526 U.S. 489, 503 (1999). by striking down a California law44Id. at 492–95, 511. limiting welfare benefits for new California residents.45Id. at 492. In his Saenz dissent, Chief Justice Rehnquist lamented the Court’s revival of the Clause, in part because the Clause had been dormant for so long.46See id. at 511 (Rehnquist, C.J., dissenting) (explaining that the Privileges or Immunities Clause was “relied upon by this Court in only one other decision,” Colgate v. Harvey, 296 U.S. 404 (1935), “overruled five years later” by Madden v. Kentucky, 309 U.S. 83 (1940)). Eleven years after Saenz, the Court in McDonald v. City of Chicago reluctantly affirmed, or at least refused to revisit, Slaughter-House’s narrow construction of the Privileges or Immunities Clause.47A plurality of the Court “decline[d] to disturb” precedent that narrowly read the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause to cover only rights that owed their existence to the federal government. McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 758 (2010) (plurality opinion). The reluctant affirmation of a questionable precedent was unwarranted in light of the developments after Slaughter-House. Federalism concerns pervaded the majority opinion’s reasoning in Slaughter-House. The Court worried that the Constitution—and the Court expounding it—would become a “perpetual censor upon all legislation of the States, on the civil rights of their own citizens, with authority to nullify such as it did not approve as consistent with those rights, as they existed at the time of the adoption of this amendment.”48Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) 36, 78 (1873).

Nevertheless, the Supreme Court has incorporated most of the Bill of Rights against the states. The remaining unincorporated enumerated rights are the seldom-litigated Third Amendment,49“The United States Supreme Court has yet to decide a case that directly implicates the Third Amendment, and its jurisprudence includes only a few cases that even make passing reference to it.” Mark A. Fulks & Ronald S. Range, III, The Third Amendment’s Consent Clause: A Conceptual Framework for Analysis and Application, 82 Tenn. L. Rev. 647, 650 (2015). the Fifth Amendment’s Grand Jury Clause,50See Hurtado v. California, 110 U.S. 516, 538 (1884) (holding that “due process of law” in the Fourteenth Amendment does not require an indictment by a grand jury in a state prosecution for murder). and the Seventh Amendment right to a trial by jury in suits at common law.51Erwin Chemerinsky, Constitutional Law: Principles and Policies 567 (7th ed. 2023). The resultant beefing up of the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause and Equal Protection Clause has achieved an effect rivaling the censor that the Slaughter-House majority feared.52Cf. David S. Bogen, Slaughter-House Five: Views of the Case, 55 Hastings L.J. 333, 337 (2003) (explaining that a broadly interpreted Equal Protection Clause and substantive due process combine to achieve a greater effect than the Privileges or Immunities Clause could have).

Although the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s construction in Slaughter-House stands as good law today, the dissenters’ views shed some light on other views of the Privileges or Immunities Clause around the time of the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification. Four Justices dissented in Slaughter-House.53Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 111 (Field, J., dissenting) (noting that Chief Justice Chase, Justice Swayne, and Justice Bradley concurred with his dissent). Justice Field—joined by Chief Justice Chase, Justice Swayne, and Justice Bradley—dissented and wrote that if the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause were interpreted as narrowly as the majority interpreted it, then the Privileges or Immunities Clause “was a vain and idle enactment, which accomplished nothing, and most unnecessarily excited Congress and the people on its passage.”54Id. at 96. Justice Field foresaw the superfluity of the new Clause if it were read so narrowly and wrote, “With privileges and immunities thus designated or implied no State could ever have interfered by its laws, and no new constitutional provision was required to inhibit such interference.”55Id. Justice Field’s prediction has but one blemish more than 150 years after the Court decided Slaughter-House: Saenz v. Roe.56See Stephen Menendian, The Shadow Constitution: Rescuing Our Inheritance from Neglect and Disuse, 26 U. Pa. Const. L. 339, 384 (2024) (“To date, the Supreme Court has only applied this provision a single time to invalidate a state law . . . .”). That single time was in Saenz v. Roe. Saenz v. Roe, 526 U.S. 489 (1999). Although Justice Field’s prediction proved prescient, Justice Bradley and Justice Swayne wrote broader dissents that explicitly advocated incorporating the Bill of Rights against the states via the Privileges or Immunities Clause.

Justice Bradley criticized the majority’s decision by averring that “the Constitution itself” contains “some of the most important privileges and immunities of citizens of the United States.”57Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 118 (Bradley, J., dissenting). One problem with narrowly construing the Privileges or Immunities Clause is that it denigrates the rights set forth in the Bill of Rights as not fundamental or less fundamental. A judge’s place is not to decide which rights in the Bill of Rights are essential and which are not.58Cf. McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 799–800 (2010) (Scalia, J., concurring) (criticizing Justice Stevens’s dissent for describing some Bill of Rights provisions as “critical to leading a life of autonomy, dignity, or political equality” and others as not critical to protecting the same (quoting id. at 893 (Stevens, J., dissenting))). Those who ratified the amendments comprising the Bill of Rights thought each was important enough to become part of the nation’s founding document. The people’s will, as expressed through their passage of the amendments, ought to be dispositive on the issue of whether a right in the Bill of Rights is fundamental. Justice Bradley grasped this flaw when he wrote that other rights, privileges, and immunities “of the greatest consequence were enumerated, although they were only secured, in express terms, from invasion by the Federal government.”59Slaughter-Houses Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 118 (Bradley, J., dissenting). The Fourteenth Amendment changed the equation by protecting the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States from state abridgment.60U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1.

Justice Swayne wrote a separate dissent and believed that the Reconstruction Amendments “may be said to rise to the dignity of a new Magna Charta.”61Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 125 (Swayne, J., dissenting). Justice Swayne also thought the majority’s analysis served to obfuscate rather than clarify.62See id. at 126. Justice Swayne believed the Privileges or Immunities Clause was clear and wrote, “Elaboration may obscure, but cannot make clearer, the intent and purpose sought to be carried out.”63Id. Justice Swayne believed the Privileges or Immunities Clause concerned, “among other things, the fundamental rights of life, liberty, and property, and also the rights which pertain to him by reason of his membership of the Nation.”64Id. This formulation would almost certainly cover each enumerated provision of the Bill of Rights and perhaps some rights not enumerated in the Constitution. After all, even the narrowly construed Privileges or Immunities Clause has already been held to protect at least one unenumerated right: the right to travel.65See Saenz v. Roe, 526 U.S. 489, 503 (1999). Justice Swayne acknowledged the objection that “the power conferred is novel and large.”66Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 129 (Swayne, J., dissenting). Justice Swayne had a simple answer to the objection:

The answer is that the novelty was known and the measure deliberately adopted. The power is beneficent in its nature, and cannot be abused. It is such as should exist in every well-ordered system of polity. Where could it be more appropriately lodged than in the hands to which it is confided? It is necessary to enable the government of the nation to secure to every one within its jurisdiction the rights and privileges enumerated, which, according to the plainest considerations of reason and justice and the fundamental principles of the social compact, all are entitled to enjoy. Without such authority any government claiming to be national is glaringly defective.67Id.

Justice Swayne ended his dissent by expressing hope that the consequences of the majority’s decision would be “less serious and far-reaching than the minority fear they will be.”68Id. at 130. Justice Swayne’s fear was partially realized. On the one hand, most of the Bill of Rights is now incorporated.69See Chemerinsky, supra note 51, at 565. On the other hand, incorporation of the Bill of Rights against the states proceeded tardily.70See id. at 565–66 (explaining which respective provisions of the Bill of Rights were incorporated against the states and the years in which each right was incorporated). The majority failed to create a precedent that provided a bulwark against the specter of the “perpetual censor”71Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 78. of which the majority expressed great trepidation.72The majority also wrote, “[T]hese consequences are so serious, so far-reaching and pervading, so great a departure from the structure and spirit of our institutions.” Id. But see id. at 129 (Swayne, J., dissenting) (explaining that “the novelty was known and the measure deliberately adopted”). However, the majority succeeded in crafting a precedent that dissuaded most future jurists from pursuing incorporation of the Bill of Rights via the Privileges or Immunities Clause.

B.  The Privileges or Immunities Clause’s Post-Slaughter-House Champions

Following Slaughter-House, few Justices have dared to broaden the construction of the Privileges or Immunities Clause. The two most significant proponents of such a construction are Justice Black and Justice Thomas.

  1. Justice Black’s “Eminently Reasonable” Method of Incorporating the Bill of Rights Against the States

In 1947, Justice Black, an early practitioner of constitutional originalism,73Justice Black was the first Supreme Court Justice to use originalism as an overarching theory of constitutional interpretation. Noah Feldman, Scorpions: The Battles and Triumphs of FDR’s Great Supreme Court Justices 144–45 (2010). concluded in his dissent in Adamson v. California that the Privileges or Immunities Clause was intended to apply the first eight amendments of the Bill of Rights to the states.74Adamson v. California, 332 U.S. 46, 74–75 (1947) (Black, J., dissenting). Justice Black also included an appendix documenting the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s legislative history to buttress his point. Id. at 92–123. But see Charles Fairman, Does the Fourteenth Amendment Incorporate the Bill of Rights? The Original Understanding, 2 Stan. L. Rev. 5, 139 (1949) (rejecting Justice Black’s view of incorporating the first eight amendments against the states). In 1968, Justice Black, in a concurrence joined by Justice Douglas,75Duncan v. Louisiana, 391 U.S. 145, 162 (1968) (Black, J., concurring). doubled down on his Adamson dissent. Justice Black once again concluded that the Privileges or Immunities Clause “seem[ed] to [him] an eminently reasonable way of expressing the idea that henceforth the Bill of Rights shall apply to the states.”76Id. at 166. Justice Black also dedicated part of his concurrence in Duncan to refuting Charles Fairman’s criticism of his dissent in Adamson. See id. at 165–66.

Experience as a prominent legislator guided Justice Black’s view of the Privileges or Immunities Clause.77See id. at 165. Justice Black’s historical analysis of the Privileges or Immunities Clause—and the wholesale incorporation view that resulted therefrom—has value because of his decade-long experience as a United States senator.78Justice Black served as a United States senator from Alabama from 1927 to 1937. States in the Senate: Alabama Senators, U.S. Senate, https://www.senate.gov/states/AL/senators.htm [https://perma.cc/6J9R-785Y]. Although Justice Black’s opinions regarding incorporation lack the force of law, his experience as a legislator may guide current and future Justices in evaluating the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s legislative history. Regarding the value of prior opinions, Justice Gorsuch wrote, “Precedent is a way of accumulating and passing down the learning of past generations, a font of established wisdom richer than what can be found in any single judge or panel of judges.”79Neil Gorsuch with Jane Nitze & David Feder, A Republic, If You Can Keep It 217 (2019). The wisdom of former legislators who served as Justices can only be found in the past. No current Supreme Court Justice was ever a legislator. Justice O’Connor was the most recent Justice with any legislative experience,80Justice O’Connor was the most recent Supreme Court Justice with legislative experience. Justice O’Connor served in Arizona’s state senate. Peter Charles Hoffer, Williamjames Hull Hoffer & N.E.H. Hull, The Supreme Court: An Essential History 377 (2d ed. 2018). and Justice Black was the last member of Congress to serve on the Court.81Justice Minton was the last Congressperson to be appointed on the Supreme Court. Stuart Banner, The Most Powerful Court in the World: A History of the Supreme Court of the United States 497 (2024). However, Justice Minton retired in 1956, whereas Justice Black served on the Court until 1971. Justices 1789 to Present, Sup. Ct. of the U.S., https://www.supremecourt.gov/about/members_text.aspx [https://perma.cc/6ZJD-WFJZ]. Justice Black’s perspective regarding the Privileges or Immunities Clause aids the argument that views the legislative history of the Privileges or Immunities Clause as intending a full incorporation of the Bill of Rights.

Some have lamented when a judge heavily relies on history,82“It is not the role of federal judges to be amateur historians.” McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 910 (2010) (Stevens, J., dissenting); see Richard A. Posner, Past-Dependency, Pragmatism, and Critique of History in Adjudication and Legal Scholarship, 67 U. Chi. L. Rev. 573, 595 (2000) (“Legal professionals are not competent to umpire historical disputes. Because they are not, inevitably they pick the side of the dispute that coincides with their preferences based on different grounds altogether.”). but Justice Black’s opinions offer helpful surveys of the Fourteenth Amendment’s legislative history. The lived experience of a decade as a United States senator adds weight to his opinions regarding the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s legislative history. The fact that no current Justice on the Supreme Court has any experience as a legislator would be a problem if the Court had no previous opinion from a former legislator from which to draw. This is not the case. Justice Black passed down his learning about the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s meaning through his opinions in cases such as Adamson v. California83See Adamson v. California, 332 U.S. 46, 92–123 (1947) (appendix to dissent of Black, J.) (analyzing the legislative history of the Fourteenth Amendment). and Duncan v. Louisiana.84See Duncan v. Louisiana, 391 U.S. 145, 164–67 (1968) (Black, J., concurring) (defending the view that the Fourteenth Amendment’s legislative history supports total incorporation of the Bill of Rights). No judge ought to be required to follow Justice Black’s jurisprudence on every matter that touches legislative history on account of his experience. However, his legislative experience and pioneering originalism lend a unique perspective to any jurist seeking the original meaning of the Privileges or Immunities Clause.

  1. Justice Thomas’s Revival of Privileges or Immunities in McDonald v. City of Chicago

In the past twenty years, Justice Thomas has led the charge for a potent Privileges or Immunities Clause in concurring opinions when a case arises in which the incorporation of a provision of the Bill of Rights is at issue.85See McDonald, 561 U.S. at 806 (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment) (“[T]he right to keep and bear arms is a privilege of American citizenship that applies to the States through the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause.”); Timbs v. Indiana, 586 U.S. 146, 157–58 (2019) (Thomas, J., concurring in the judgment) (“I would hold that the right to be free from excessive fines is one of the ‘privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States’ protected by the Fourteenth Amendment.”). Justice Thomas’s interpretation of the Constitution centers around a search for the Constitution’s original meaning.86See Gregory E. Maggs, How Justice Thomas Determines the Original Meaning of Article II of the Constitution, 127 Yale L.J.F. 210, 211 (2017). Justice Thomas employed this interpretive method in his concurring opinion in McDonald v. City of Chicago.87“[T]he objective of this inquiry is to discern what ‘ordinary citizens’ at the time of ratification would have understood the Privileges or Immunities Clause to mean.” McDonald, 561 U.S. at 813 (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment) (citation omitted). Justice Thomas had wanted to revisit the Privileges or Immunities Clause since Saenz v. Roe. See Saenz v. Roe, 526 U.S. 489, 528 (1999) (Thomas, J., dissenting) (“I would be open to reevaluating [the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s] meaning in an appropriate case.”). In McDonald, Justice Thomas concluded that the Second Amendment’s right to keep and bear arms applied to the states via the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause.88McDonald, 561 U.S. at 806 (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment). After a detailed treatment of the Fourteenth Amendment’s text and history,89Justice Thomas’s extensive analysis surveyed the historical usage of the text, in addition to pertinent legislative debates surrounding the text and the public’s understanding of the Fourteenth Amendment after ratification. See id. at 806–37. Justice Thomas wrote the following about the Privileges or Immunities Clause as it relates to incorporating the Bill of Rights:

This evidence plainly shows that the ratifying public understood the Privileges or Immunities Clause to protect constitutionally enumerated rights, including the right to keep and bear arms. As the Court demonstrates, there can be no doubt that § 1 was understood to enforce the Second Amendment against the States. In my view, this is because the right to keep and bear arms was understood to be a privilege of American citizenship guaranteed by the Privileges or Immunities Clause.90Id. at 837–38. But see id. at 859 (Stevens, J., dissenting) (“[T]he original meaning of the Clause is not as clear as [the petitioners] suggest . . . .”).

Justice Thomas recognized that the legislative history surrounding the Clause was “less than crystal clear.”91Id. at 834 (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment). He also acknowledged the difficulties that interpreting the once-dormant Clause may pose. Still, he argued that interpretation of the Privileges or Immunities Clause was “far more likely to yield discernible answers[ ]than the substantive due process questions the Court has for years created on its own, with neither textual nor historical support.”92Id. at 855.

In McDonald, Justice Thomas was alone in his interpretation of the Privileges or Immunities Clause. The plurality opinion stated that it “saw no need to reconsider” Slaughter-House and “therefore decline[d] to disturb the Slaughter-House holding.”93Id. at 758 (plurality opinion). The phrasing in that sentence is crucial. The plurality did not reject Justice Thomas’s view on the merits or defend Slaughter-House on the merits. Instead, they saw another path to incorporation—substantive due process. Because that path remained open, the plurality believed it was merely unnecessary—though perhaps not improper—to revisit Slaughter-House.

The dissents rejected Justice Thomas’s view for similar reasons. In his dissent, Justice Stevens acknowledged the “impressive amount of historical evidence”94Id. at 859 (Stevens, J., dissenting). that the petitioners compiled in support of their position that Slaughter-House’s narrow reading of the Privileges or Immunities Clause was erroneous. Yet, Justice Stevens believed the original meaning of the Clause was “not nearly as clear as it would need to be to dislodge 137 years of precedent.”95Id. at 859–60. In a separate dissent joined by Justice Ginsburg and Justice Sotomayor, Justice Breyer declined to defend Slaughter-House on the merits and instead wrote only that “the plurality today properly declines to revisit our interpretation of the Privileges or Immunities Clause.”96Id. at 934 (Breyer, J., dissenting). The refusal to substantively engage with Justice Thomas’s opinion or to defend Slaughter-House on the merits is at least some evidence of the weak footing on which opposition to Justice Thomas’s conclusion rests. A maxim from Chief Justice Marshall is enough to support Justice Thomas’s conclusion and defeat Slaughter-House’s construction of the Privileges or Immunities Clause, such that the only justification for upholding Slaughter-House is stare decisis. In Marbury v. Madison, Chief Justice Marshall wrote, “It cannot be presumed that any clause in the constitution is intended to be without effect; and therefore such a construction is inadmissible, unless the words require it.”97Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137, 174 (1803). The words of the Privileges or Immunities Clause do not require such a narrow construction. Slaughter-House ought to be overruled unless stare decisis justifies upholding the precedent.

  1. The Post-McDonald Future of the Privileges or Immunities Clause

Although Justice Thomas was unsuccessful in reviving the Privileges or Immunities Clause in McDonald, he has continued to defend his interpretation of the Clause. In Timbs v. Indiana, Justice Thomas would have applied the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition of excessive fines to the states via the Privileges or Immunities Clause—not the Due Process Clause.98Timbs v. Indiana, 586 U.S. 146, 157–58 (2019) (Thomas, J., concurring in the judgment). In Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, Justice Thomas argued for reconsidering every substantive due process precedent and deciding whether the rights protected by those precedents are protected by the Privileges or Immunities Clause.99See Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2300–02 (2022) (Thomas, J., concurring). Since McDonald, Justice Thomas has found one potential ally to support his view of the Privileges or Immunities Clause. In 2019, Justice Gorsuch has emerged as a possible proponent of incorporation via the Privileges or Immunities Clause, a position he contemplated in Timbs.100“As an original matter, I acknowledge, the appropriate vehicle for incorporation may well be the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause, rather than, as this Court has long assumed, the Due Process Clause.” Timbs, 586 U.S. at 157 (Gorsuch, J., concurring).

III.  STARE DECISIS FACTORS POINT TO OVERRULING SLAUGHTER-HOUSE

Stare decisis is not an “inexorable command.”101Payne v. Tennessee, 501 U.S. 808, 828 (1991). However, the rule of law rests on a measure of stability. Justice Brandeis was prudent to say, “Stare decisis is usually the wise policy, because in most matters it is more important that the applicable rule of law be settled than that it be settled right.”102Burnet v. Coronado Oil & Gas Co., 285 U.S. 393, 406 (1932) (Brandeis, J., dissenting). Nevertheless, the oft-wise policy is weakest when the Supreme Court interprets the Constitution because changing a constitutional precedent can only be accomplished via constitutional amendment—an arduous process—or by overruling the precedent.103Agostini v. Felton, 521 U.S. 203, 235 (1997).

The Slaughter-House majority’s interpretation of the Privileges or Immunities Clause is wrong and should be overruled. To overrule it, the Court would need to find that stare decisis factors weigh in favor of overruling the case. The Court tends to rely on six stare decisis factors: (1) nature of the error; (2) quality of the reasoning; (3) workability of the rule established; (4) disruptive effect on other areas of law; (5) developments since the case was decided; and (6) reliance interests.104See Janus v. Am. Fed’n of State, Cnty. & Mun. Emps., Council 31, 138 S. Ct. 2448, 2478–79 (2018); Dobbs, 142 S. Ct. at 2265. All but one particular factor is either neutral or weighs in favor of overruling Slaughter-House. The factors as a whole weigh strongly in favor of overruling Slaughter-House and interpreting the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause as fully incorporating the Bill of Rights.

A.  The Nature of the Slaughter-House Majority’s Error

The first factor focuses on the degree of wrongness and the damaging effects of the decision rather than the reasoning itself.105See Dobbs, 142 S. Ct. at 2265 (describing Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113 (1973), as “egregiously wrong and deeply damaging” in the first factor analysis).

The Slaughter-House majority’s opinion constituted the type of egregious and deleterious error106“A garden-variety error or disagreement does not suffice to overrule. In the view of the Court that is considering whether to overrule, the precedent must be egregiously wrong as a matter of law in order for the Court to overrule it.” Ramos v. Louisiana, 140 S. Ct. 1390, 1414 (2020) (Kavanaugh, J., concurring in part). that makes the first stare decisis factor weigh in favor of overruling Slaughter-House. Suppose that each provision of the Constitution were interpreted as narrowly as the Privileges or Immunities Clause. If each constitutional provision were interpreted so narrowly as to be famous for having little or no effect,107See supra note 42 and accompanying text. what purpose would the Constitution serve? The judicial nullification of the Privileges or Immunities Clause is repugnant to a democratic people and disrespects the ratifiers of the Fourteenth Amendment. The majority’s decision in Slaughter-House was nothing more than the “exercise of raw judicial power,”108Doe v. Bolton, 410 U.S. 179, 222 (1973) (White, J., dissenting). which in effect nullified part of the Fourteenth Amendment.

Decisions that invent “principles or values that cannot fairly be read into [the Constitution] usurp the people’s authority.”109Thornburgh v. Am. Coll. of Obstetricians & Gynecologists, 476 U.S. 747, 787 (1986) (White, J., dissenting). Here, the Slaughter-House majority did the inverse of what the Dobbs majority criticized Roe v. Wade110Roe, 410 U.S. 113. and Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey111Planned Parenthood of Se. Pa. v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833 (1992). for doing. The Dobbs majority believed that Roe and Casey improvidently took a decision not yet made by the American people and made it for them via judicial pronouncement;112See Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2265 (2022) (criticizing Roe and Casey for damming the democratic process from reaching the issue of abortion). the Slaughter-House majority took a decision already made by the American people, through the ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment, and revoked it via an impermissibly narrow interpretation113See Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) 36, 77–78 (1873) (explaining the Court’s holding that the Privileges or Immunities Clause does not incorporate the Bill of Rights against the states). of the Privileges or Immunities Clause that sapped the Clause of all might.

B.  The Quality of the Slaughter-House Majority’s Reasoning

Silence and evasion cry out for criticism. When nobody stands to defend a precedent’s reasoning, the quality of the reasoning is weaker.114Cf. Citizens United v. FEC, 558 U.S. 310, 363 (2010) (explaining that a precedent is weaker when “neither party defends the reasoning of a precedent”). In 2020, a plurality of the Court in Ramos v. Louisiana found the quality of the reasoning factor to weigh in favor of overruling a precedent, partly because “no Member of the Court today defend[ed] [the precedent] as rightly decided.”115Ramos v. Louisiana, 140 S. Ct. 1390, 1405 (2020) (plurality opinion). Justices from across the spectrum have attacked the Slaughter-House majority’s reasoning by refusing to defend the merits of Slaughter-House’s interpretation of the Privileges or Immunities Clause.116Compare McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 758 (2010) (plurality opinion) (“For many decades, the question of the rights protected by the Fourteenth Amendment against state infringement has been analyzed under the Due Process Clause of that Amendment and not under the Privileges or Immunities Clause. We therefore decline to disturb the Slaughter-House holding.”), with id. at 934 (Breyer, J., dissenting) (“[T]he plurality today properly declines to revisit our interpretation of the Privileges or Immunities Clause.”). The Justices were right to refuse to defend the opinion on the merits because doing so is almost impossible. The consensus of constitutional scholars is that the Slaughter-House majority’s interpretation of the Privileges or Immunities Clause was wrong.117See, e.g., Randy E. Barnett & Evan D. Bernick, The Original Meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment: Its Letter and Spirit 22 (2021); Charles L. Black, Jr., A New Birth of Freedom: Human Rights, Named and Unnamed 74–75 (1997).

The reasoning in Slaughter-House was “exceptionally weak.”118Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2266 (2022) (criticizing the quality of the reasoning in Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113 (1973)). The reasons for the narrow construction were (1) a bald, results-based conclusion and (2) an absurd reading that ignores text and legislative history.

  1. A Bald, Results-Based Conclusion

Beginning with the bald conclusion, the Court stated, “There can be little question that the purpose of both [Article IV’s Privileges and Immunities Clause and the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause] is the same, and that the privileges and immunities intended are the same in each.”119Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) 36, 75 (1873). In clear language, the Court admitted its result-oriented construction was “not always the most conclusive” argument.120Id. at 78. Nevertheless, the Court made its choice out of fear of a theory that “radically change[d]” the relationship between state and federal governments and about concerns that the Court would become a “perpetual censor” over state legislatures.121Id. The Court’s reasoning depended on avoiding a purportedly undesirable outcome, but that feared result has already been achieved.122See Chemerinsky, supra note 51, at 565–66 (listing the provisions in the Bill of Rights that have already been incorporated against the states). The reasoning undergirding Slaughter-House’s results-based conclusion has crumbled as substantive due process has grown.123See infra Section III.E.

To overcome its concerns about a radical change to the constitutional order, the Court asked for “language which expresse[d] such a purpose too clearly to admit of doubt.”124Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 78. The Court adopted something akin to a beyond-reasonable-doubt standard for interpretation that had no basis in constitutional interpretation. The total concoction of a novel standard for constitutional interpretation is further evidence of an egregiously wrong opinion.

  1. An Absurd Reading That Ignores Text and Legislative History

In the majority opinion, Justice Miller set forth an anti-textual reading of the Fourteenth Amendment that distinguished between the privileges or immunities of citizens of a state and the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States.125Curtis, supra note 17, at 175. According to Justice Miller, the privileges and immunities of the citizen of a state “embrace[] nearly every civil right for the establishment and protection of which organized government is instituted.”126Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 76. Conversely, the privileges and immunities of the citizen of the United States were limited to things like the right to travel to and from the seat of government and access to seaports.127Id. at 79. The dichotomy between state citizens’ rights and United States citizens’ rights is difficult to square with Justice Miller’s belief that the purpose and effect of the Fourteenth Amendment should be to protect Black Americans.128See Curtis, supra note 17, at 176. The plain language of the Privileges or Immunities Clause seems to desire some nationwide baseline for individual rights. If that baseline was as paltry as Justice Miller suggested, then the enactment truly was “vain and idle.”129Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) at 96 (Field, J., dissenting).

Regarding legislative intent, Justice Miller did not believe that a broad Privileges or Immunities Clause was intended. Justice Miller summarily concluded that he was “convinced that no such results were intended by the Congress which proposed these amendments, nor by the legislatures of the States which ratified them.”130Id. at 78 (majority opinion). Justice Miller failed to conduct even a cursory survey of the legislative history. If he had done so, he would have found that leading Republicans in the Congress that passed the Fourteenth Amendment believed the capacious definition of privileges and immunities was appropriate for the federal government to prevent state infringement of the same.131See Curtis, supra note 17, at 176. Adding to the case against Justice Miller’s reading of the legislative history is the fact that Representative John Bingham, the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s primary draftsman, stated in a speech in Congress that the purpose of the Clause was to apply the Bill of Rights to the states.132McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 829 (2010) (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment). The quality of the Slaughter-House majority’s reasoning was abysmal because it failed to heed the Privileges or Immunities Clause’s plain text or legislative history.

For the above reasons and many more, “[v]irtually no serious modern scholar—left, right, and center—thinks that [the majority’s reading] is a plausible reading of the Amendment.”133Akhil Reed Amar, Substance and Method in the Year 2000, 28 Pepp. L. Rev. 601, 631 n.178 (2001). The quality of the majority’s reasoning surpasses an excusable “garden-variety error”134Ramos v. Louisiana, 140 S. Ct. 1390, 1414 (2020) (Kavanaugh, J., concurring in part). and makes the quality of the reasoning factor weigh strongly in favor of overruling the precedent.

C.  The Workability of the Rules Imposed on the Country

The workability factor asks whether the rule “can be understood and applied in a consistent and predictable manner.”135Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2272 (2022). To laud Slaughter-House for creating a workable rule would be a mistake. The opinion created a bright-line rule that refused to incorporate any provision of the Bill of Rights.136Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) 36, 78 (1873). This rule is easy for lower courts to apply in the same way that the following absurd, bright-line interpretation would be easy to apply: Suppose the Court held that “Speech” in the First Amendment137U.S. Const. amend. I. context must be construed in the same manner as “Speech” described in Article I’s Speech and Debate Clause.138U.S. Const. art. I, § 6. That construction would be easy for lower courts to apply due to the narrow circumstances in which Speech and Debate Clause issues arise. However, workability through absurdity should not suffice.139Cf. Ramos, 140 S. Ct. at 1417 (Kavanaugh, J., concurring in part) (admitting a precedent was workable but overruling it due to its disastrous consequences).

D.  The Disruptive Effect on Other Areas of Law

A precedent that has distorted other legal doctrines is more suitable for overruling.140See Dobbs, 142 S. Ct. at 2275. Although achieving substantially similar results, the closing off of incorporation via the Privileges or Immunities Clause caused jurists who did not want to overrule Slaughter-House to distort the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause in order to incorporate the Bill of Rights against the states.141Cf. Bogen, supra note 52, at 337 (explaining that the Due Process Clause, rather than the Privileges or Immunities Clause, has incorporated much of the Bill of Rights against the states). Due Process Clause distortion caused two nasty ailments.

First, the incrementalist incorporation route required Justices to inquire whether a provision of the Bill of Rights was “fundamental to our scheme of ordered liberty” with “dee[p] root[s] in [our] history and tradition.”142Timbs v. Indiana, 139 S. Ct. 682, 686–87 (2019) (citation omitted). Part of the rationale for Constitution-related precedent being weaker is the high bar for amending the Constitution.143Agostini v. Felton, 521 U.S. 203, 235 (1997); see U.S. Const. art. V (describing the process for amending the Constitution). When a provision of the Constitution enumerates a right, it is self-evident that a great majority of American voters considered the provision sufficiently fundamental to make it part of the nation’s foundational legal document. Judicial inquiry into whether a provision is important enough to be elevated to fundamental status is improper. The entire Bill of Rights is fundamental to liberty. The Anti-Federalists who pressed for a bill of rights in the Constitution did so partly because they believed some liberties were so fundamental that their inclusion in the nation’s founding document was necessary.144See, e.g., Pennsylvania Minority, The Address and Reasons of Dissent of the Minority of the Convention of Pennsylvania to Their Constituents, in The Anti-Federalist Papers and the Constitutional Convention Debates 237, 247 (Ralph Ketcham ed., 1986) (describing a bill of rights as “ascertaining and fundamentally establishing those unalienable and personal rights of men, without the full, free, and secure enjoyment of which there can be no liberty”). “There are certain unalienable and fundamental rights, which in forming the social compact, ought to be explicitly ascertained and fixed . . . .” The Federal Farmer, Letters from the Federal Farmer, in The Anti-Federalist Papers and the Constitutional Convention Debates 256, 266 (Ralph Ketcham ed., 1986).

Second, the absorption of unenumerated-rights analysis into substantive due process145The current substantive due process analysis for unenumerated rights is the same as the analysis for enumerated rights. The inquiry has two prongs: (1) whether the right is “objectively, deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition”; and (2) whether the right is “implicit in the concept of ordered liberty, such that neither liberty nor justice would exist if [it] were sacrificed.” Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U.S. 702, 720–21 (1997) (citation modified) (citations omitted). let the Ninth Amendment wither on the vine. Justices rarely refer to the Amendment. In Griswold v. Connecticut, Justice Goldberg penned a concurrence that examined the Ninth Amendment at length.146See Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479, 486–99 (1965) (Goldberg, J., concurring) (analyzing the Ninth Amendment’s text, history, and meaning). But aside from this single concurrence and occasional fleeting references,147See, e.g., Planned Parenthood of Se. Pa. v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833, 848 (1992) (plurality opinion) (citing the Ninth Amendment). the Court has ignored a provision of the Constitution that is no less deserving of interpretation and application than any other.148Cf. Randy E. Barnett, Restoring the Lost Constitution: The Presumption of Liberty 225 (2014) (claiming the Court has treated the Ninth Amendment as “lost”). The absence of the Ninth Amendment in the Court’s unenumerated-rights jurisprudence is a consequence of the growth of substantive due process and neglect of the Privileges or Immunities Clause.149See Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2259–60 (2022) (analyzing unenumerated rights under substantive due process instead of the Ninth Amendment); cf. Confirmation Hearing on the Nomination of Hon. Brett M. Kavanaugh to Be an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States: Hearing Before the S. Comm. on the Judiciary, 115th Cong. 213 (2018) (statement of Judge Brett M. Kavanaugh) (describing the Ninth Amendment, the Privileges or Immunities Clause, and substantive due process as three ways of achieving similar results).

In sum, Slaughter-House has had the disruptive effect of implicitly disparaging some provisions of the Bill of Rights as nonfundamental while stunting the growth of Ninth Amendment jurisprudence. Those two consequences have damaged the Constitution and counsel in favor of overruling Slaughter-House.

E.  Developments Since the Case Was Decided

A precedent is significantly weakened when the grounds for the decision have been “eroded” by the Court’s subsequent decisions.150United States v. Gaudin, 515 U.S. 506, 521 (1995). A crucial aspect of the reasoning in Slaughter-House was its result-oriented approach that did not want incorporation to transform the Constitution into a “perpetual censor”151Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (16 Wall.) 36, 78 (1873). of state legislatures.152See supra Section III.B.1. However, the majority’s fear has already been realized due to substantive due process’s subsequent metastasis. The vast majority of the Bill of Rights is already incorporated against the states.153See Chemerinsky, supra note 51, at 565–66. At the 2018 oral argument for Timbs, Justice Gorsuch and Justice Kavanaugh were incredulous that Indiana’s solicitor general was contesting incorporation of any part of the Bill of Rights.154During oral arguments, Justice Gorsuch said to Indiana’s solicitor general, “[M]ost of these incorporation cases took place in like the 1940s . . . . And here we are in 2018 . . . still litigating incorporation of the Bill of Rights. Really? Come on, General.” Transcript of Oral Argument at 32–33, Timbs v. Indiana, 139 S. Ct. 682 (2019) (No. 17-1091). Shortly after, Justice Kavanaugh added, “Isn’t it just too late in the day to argue that any of the Bill of Rights is not incorporated?” Id. at 33. The subsequent legal developments of near-total incorporation have obliterated the result-oriented reasoning that grounded the Slaughter-House majority opinion. The ensuing legal developments counsel strongly in favor of overruling Slaughter-House.

F.  The Absence of Concrete Reliance

People have concrete reliance on the rights that substantive due process preserves, but this reliance is separate from reliance on the procedural mechanism itself. Their reliance would only be concrete if abrogating substantive due process would also mean that the Bill of Rights was not incorporated against the states. Adoption of the PI + 9 Framework would avoid such issues.

The primary concrete reliance interests that would be upset by Slaughter-House being overruled would be those that rely on the unincorporated parts of the Bill of Rights remaining unincorporated. Today, the Third Amendment, the Fifth Amendment’s Grand Jury Clause, and the Seventh Amendment are the only enumerated rights that remain unincorporated.155See Chemerinsky, supra note 51, at 567.

The Third and Seventh Amendment present inconsequential reliance interests. The Third Amendment’s incorporation would be the least substantial because situations that lead to Third Amendment litigation are exceedingly rare.156The Supreme Court has yet to decide a case based on the Third Amendment, and there is only one significant federal court decision about the Amendment. Scott D. Gerber, An Unavoidably Brief Historiography of the Third Amendment, 82 Tenn. L. Rev. 627, 627–28 (2015). The one case involved tenants who sued on Third Amendment grounds after National Guard troops evicted them to use the tenants’ residences for housing. Engblom v. Carey, 677 F.2d 957, 958–61 (2d Cir. 1982) (holding that national guardsmen are “Soldiers” for Third Amendment purposes and that the Third Amendment is applied to the states through the Fourteenth Amendment). Similarly, the Seventh Amendment’s incorporation would change little. Only three states lack a right to a civil jury trial in their state constitutions: Colorado, Louisiana, and Wyoming.157See Colo Const.; La. Const.; Wyo. Const. However, the right to a civil jury trial can be found elsewhere in those three states. The rules of civil procedure for Colorado,158Colo. R. Civ. P. 38(b) (2025). Louisiana,159La. Code Civ. Proc. Ann. art. 1731 (2025). and Wyoming160Wyo. R. Civ. P. 38(b) (2025). allow a party to demand a jury trial. Accordingly, incorporating the Third and Seventh Amendment would change little for states or private parties.

Incorporating the Fifth Amendment’s Grand Jury Clause presents the greatest reliance-interest issues of the amendments that prescribe enumerated rights. States without a grand jury requirement have reliance interests in preserving the finality of criminal judgments and avoiding the costs associated with implementing an institution for criminal prosecutions—the grand jury.161See Robert W. Frey, Note, Incorporation, Fundamental Rights, and the Grand Jury: Hurtado v. California Reconsidered, 108 Va. L. Rev. 1613, 1654 (2022).

The finality of criminal judgments in state courts would likely remain intact despite incorporation of the Grand Jury Clause. In Edwards v. Vannoy, the Supreme Court refused to retroactively apply the Ramos jury-unanimity rule on federal collateral review.162Edwards v. Vannoy, 141 S. Ct. 1547, 1559 (2021). Given the refusal in Edwards to retroactively apply the unanimous jury verdict requirement from Ramos on federal collateral review,163Id. at 1552. it seems unlikely that the Court would rule differently if the Grand Jury Clause were incorporated. To apply the requirement retroactively, the Court would need to apply a rare exception that it described as “moribund” in 2021.164Id. at 1560.

A state’s reliance interest in avoiding the costs associated with grand juries is the most significant reliance interest jeopardized by total incorporation of the Bill of Rights. However, reliance-interests analysis usually concerns the costs borne by private parties, not the government.165Frey, supra note 161, at 1654. All but two states, Pennsylvania and Connecticut, still have grand jury indictment as part of their criminal procedure scheme—even if twenty-eight states do not require a grand jury indictment.166See id. at 1654–55. The familiarity with the grand jury as an institution and the existence of the institution in all but two states limit the extent to which incorporating the Grand Jury Clause would upset reliance interests. Moreover, the Court has repeatedly incorporated procedural protections against states despite the attendant costs.167See id. at 1655. Such decisions evince a belief in the relative unimportance of a state’s reliance interest in maintaining criminal laws and procedures that are inconsistent with the Constitution. As Justice Gorsuch wrote in Ramos, the most essential reliance interests are “the reliance interests of the American people.”168Ramos v. Louisiana, 140 S. Ct. 1390, 1408 (2020) (plurality opinion). Given the relatively meager reliance interests that would be affected by overruling Slaughter-House, the reliance interests factor weighs only slightly against overruling the precedent.

Weighing the stare decisis factors as a whole in a manner consistent with the Court’s recent application of those factors, Slaughter-House should be overruled. Accordingly, the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause should incorporate every right in the Bill of Rights against the states.

IV.  SUBSTANTIVE DUE PROCESS MUST END

Substantive due process is a doctrine with severe flaws. As will be explained below, the doctrine cannot justify itself with anything but a result-oriented conclusion. However, even that justification is unsatisfying because substantive due process is not the best means to protect individual liberties against state infringement—the Privileges or Immunities Clause is. The result is a disjointed Fourteenth Amendment and an ineffectual Ninth Amendment.

A.  Substantive Due Process Fails to Justify Itself with Reason and Impedes a Harmonious Fourteenth Amendment

The Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause seems, on its text’s face,169“[N]or shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.” U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1. to be an inapt mechanism to incorporate the Bill of Rights against the states. After all, the Due Process Clause describes process, not substance.170John Hart Ely famously quipped that “substantive due process is a contradiction in terms—sort of like green pastel redness.” John Hart Ely, Democracy and Distrust: A Theory of Judicial Review 18 (1980) (citation modified). Over the years, several Supreme Court Justices have recognized the contradiction in terms for the folly that it is.171See, e.g., Moore v. City of East Cleveland, 431 U.S. 494, 544 (1977) (White, J., dissenting) (warning against continued expansion of substantive due process to strike down a city ordinance); City of Chicago v. Morales, 527 U.S. 41, 85 (1999) (Scalia, J., dissenting) (describing incorporation of the Bill of Rights via the Due Process Clause as “judicial usurpation”); Timbs v. Indiana, 139 S. Ct. 682, 692 (2019) (Thomas, J., concurring in the judgment) (explaining that the Due Process Clause involves only process, not substance). Other Supreme Court Justices have employed substantive due process without defending the mechanism itself.172See, e.g., Timbs, 139 S. Ct. at 687 (majority opinion) (explaining the two-pronged test for substantive due process without defending substantive due process itself); McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 759–66 (2010) (offering an overview of substantive due process precedents without defending the doctrine directly). Stranger yet, however, is when Justices who have openly expressed their distaste for substantive due process have nonetheless approved its use in applying the Bill of Rights to the states.173Compare Morales, 527 U.S. at 85 (Scalia, J., dissenting) (describing substantive due process as “judicial usurpation”), with McDonald, 561 U.S. at 791 (Scalia, J., concurring) (defending the application of substantive due process with respect to the Second Amendment).

Despite substantive due process’s status as the favored means to incorporate the Bill of Rights against the states, the method has failed to justify itself by any means other than a result-oriented approach. This approach would be more understandable if a more apt provision of the Constitution could not accomplish the same objectives. The Privileges or Immunities Clause can achieve those objectives and would do so with greater force, clarity, and efficiency.

Furthermore, revitalizing the Privileges or Immunities Clause while curtailing substantive due process would harmonize the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause, Equal Protection Clause, and Privileges or Immunities Clause. The Due Process Clause would consider only “procedural fairness.”174Ely, supra note 170, at 24. The Equal Protection Clause would address equality alone.175See id. The Privileges or Immunities Clause would set a baseline of substantive rights that no state may abridge.176See id. The failure to harmonize the three above-mentioned Fourteenth Amendment clauses puts rights on weaker footing.

B.  Substantive Due Process Shortchanges the Ninth Amendment

Any construction that renders a constitutional provision superfluous is “inadmissible, unless the words require it.”177Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137, 174 (1803). Chief Justice Marshall’s proscription against superfluous constructions was farsighted, and its logic extends to the wounds substantive due process has inflicted on the Ninth Amendment. The established doctrine the Court employs to evaluate whether the Constitution protects an unenumerated right is substantive due process.178See Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2259–60 (2022) (describing the current doctrinal framework for unenumerated rights). The repeated179Prior Supreme Court opinions have repeatedly used the Due Process Clause to protect unenumerated rights instead of using the Ninth Amendment. See, e.g., Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479, 481–86 (1965) (using the Due Process Clause to protect a right to contraceptives for married couples); Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1, 12 (1967) (using the Due Process Clause to protect a right to interracial marriage); Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U.S. 558, 578–79 (2003) (using the Due Process Clause to protect a right to private sexual acts between consenting adults); Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644, 681 (2015) (using the Due Process Clause to protect right to same-sex marriage). resort to the Due Process Clause to achieve purposes for which it was never intended,180See supra Section IV.A. and to which it is ill-suited, shortchanges the Ninth Amendment and renders it superfluous.181The Amendment has become so superfluous that the mere suggestion of employing it has become risible. See Ely, supra note 170, at 34 (“In sophisticated legal circles mentioning the Ninth Amendment is a surefire way to get a laugh.”). Furthermore, to render the Ninth Amendment superfluous does more than flout one of Chief Justice Marshall’s memorable axioms. The failure to ground unenumerated-rights jurisprudence in the constitutional provision most suited to that purpose puts jealously guarded individual liberties at risk.

The Ninth Amendment offers the protection that unenumerated rights deserve. Regarding one such precious unenumerated right, Chief Justice Warren wrote for a unanimous Court that, “[u]nder our Constitution, the freedom to marry, or not marry, a person of another race resides with the individual and cannot be infringed by the state.”182Loving, 388 U.S. at 12. The right to interracial marriage is one of many precious unenumerated rights that deserves better protection than what a procedural clause can offer. The Ninth Amendment can secure those rights better than substantive due process. Any defense of substantive due process to defend an unenumerated right disserves the very rights the doctrine purports to protect. Substantive due process must be abrogated so that Ninth Amendment jurisprudence can become the sentinel of unenumerated rights.

V.  UNENUMERATED RIGHTS: THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

The biggest challenge to adopting an expansive construction of the Privileges or Immunities Clause may be getting Justices to agree on a test for whether the Constitution protects a particular unenumerated right. Fortunately, there is a consensus about protecting some unenumerated rights.183See infra Section V.A. This Part argues that the Ninth Amendment should protect unenumerated rights and considers which test is appropriate for accomplishing that objective.

A.  Justices Across the Spectrum Want to Protect Unenumerated Rights

The Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization majority was quick to emphasize that its elimination of an unenumerated constitutional right to abortion should not “be understood to cast doubt on precedents that do not concern abortion.”184Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2277–78 (2022). In his concurring opinion in Dobbs, Justice Kavanaugh expressed support for Supreme Court precedents concerning marriage and contraception.185See id. at 2309 (Kavanaugh, J., concurring) (reiterating that overruling Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113 (1973), did not weaken or threaten other precedents that protected unenumerated rights that did not concern abortion). The Dobbs dissenters believed that it was not possible to decouple the precedents concerning marriage and contraception from the precedents concerning abortion.186See id. at 2319 (Breyer, Sotomayor & Kagan, JJ., dissenting). The fact that both sides agreed in Dobbs that at least some unenumerated rights were protected by the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause is some evidence of the broad support for constitutional recognition of some unenumerated rights.

B.  The Ninth Amendment Is the Best Means to Protect Unenumerated Rights

The Ninth Amendment shares at least two things in common with the Privileges or Immunities Clause. First, both have been mostly read out of the Constitution.187Curtis, supra note 17, at 173 (explaining that the Privileges or Immunities Clause had essentially been “read out of the Constitution” by the Supreme Court); see Barnett, supra note 148, at 236–37 (explaining that “courts have rarely been willing to rely upon [the Ninth Amendment] when assessing the constitutionality of statutes”). Second, substantive due process has haphazardly achieved some of each’s overarching goals.188Substantive due process has achieved, perhaps, more than the Privileges or Immunities Clause could have by itself. See Bogen, supra note 52 and accompanying text. The Supreme Court’s unenumerated-rights jurisprudence has taken shape almost exclusively within the confines of the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause. Cf. Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644, 663 (2015) (explaining that the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause also protects liberties pertaining to “personal choices central to individual dignity and autonomy”).

There is a broad consensus that the Constitution protects some unenumerated rights.189See supra Section V.A. And if the Constitution protects unenumerated rights, those rights ought to be safeguarded by a framework sturdier than the flimsy, contradictory substantive due process approach. Substantive due process’s embrace of unenumerated-rights jurisprudence would be more understandable if no part of the Constitution dealt explicitly with the issue of unenumerated rights. Fortunately, this is not the case. A provision that discusses unenumerated rights exists, and that provision is the Ninth Amendment, which states, “The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.”190U.S. Const. amend. IX.

The decision to craft a jurisprudence about unenumerated substantive rights in a procedural clause is confounding in light of the Ninth Amendment. The Supreme Court has traditionally declined to hold that the Ninth Amendment is the source of substantive rights.191“The Court does not use the Ninth Amendment as a tool for incorporating independent unenumerated rights or as an independent source of rights . . . .” Christopher J. Schmidt, Revitalizing the Quiet Ninth Amendment: Determining Unenumerated Rights and Eliminating Substantive Due Process, 32 U. Balt. L. Rev. 169, 188 (2003). Indeed, the Ninth Amendment does not specify which rights were retained by the people. The only body with the power and qualifications necessary to decide which rights are retained by the people is the federal judiciary. The “province and duty of the judicial department to say what the law is”192Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137, 177 (1803). extends to expounding and interpreting which rights are “retained by the people”193U.S. Const. amend. IX. under the Ninth Amendment.

C.  Finding the Right Test for Identifying Protected Unenumerated Rights

The Supreme Court must choose a proper, workable rule of law for lower courts to apply when deciding Ninth Amendment cases if the Court were to adopt the PI + 9 Framework. The Ninth Amendment seems so open to interpretation that it could create Pandora’s box concerns that may produce workability problems.194See Ely, supra note 170, at 34. Indeed, the Court has recently cited unworkability in both constitutional195See, e.g., Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2272 (2022) (criticizing Planned Parenthood of Se. Pa. v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833 (1992), for the poor workability of the “undue burden” standard). and statutory196See, e.g., Loper Bright Enters. v. Raimondo, 144 S. Ct. 2244, 2270 (2024) (criticizing and overruling Chevron U.S.A. Inc. v. Nat. Res. Def. Council, Inc., 467 U.S. 837 (1984) for the unworkability of the “ambiguity” standard). cases as a key reason for overruling precedents. However, substantive due process raises the same Pandora’s box predicaments,197See Ely, supra note 170, at 34. yet the Court has had little trouble applying substantive due process in recent years.198See, e.g., Dobbs, 142 S. Ct. at 2245–46 (analyzing whether there is a right to abortion under substantive due process); Timbs v. Indiana, 139 S. Ct. 682, 687–89 (2019) (using substantive due process to analyze whether the Eighth Amendment’s Excessive Fines Clause is incorporated). Indeed, when the Court overruled Roe and Casey, the Court insisted on being guided by “history and tradition” in order to avoid the “freewheeling judicial policymaking that characterized discredited decisions such as Lochner v. New York.”199Dobbs, 142 S. Ct. at 2248; see Lochner v. New York, 198 U.S. 45, 64 (1905).

However, if the Court were to hand down a landmark Ninth Amendment decision, it would have ultimate authority to say what the law is and could choose any test it desired. The Court ought not to be frozen by a fear of political backlash or public outcry when deciding the cases and controversies that it has the power to decide under Article III.200See U.S. Const. art. III. In 2022, the Court acknowledged the importance of deciding cases based on principles, “not social and political pressures.”201Dobbs, 142 S. Ct. at 2278 (quoting Planned Parenthood of Se. Pa. v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833, 865 (1992)). A wise Justice once said of the Court, “We are not final because we are infallible, but we are infallible only because we are final.”202Brown v. Allen, 344 U.S. 443, 540 (1953) (Jackson, J., concurring in the result). The Court ought to trust itself enough to exercise the power vested in it by the Constitution to interpret and construe the Ninth Amendment. Several options abound—ranging from ignoring the Ninth Amendment to presuming liberty—for the Court if it adopts the PI + 9 Framework.

  1. The Ink Blot Approach: Disregarding the Ninth Amendment

Judge Robert H. Bork infamously compared the Ninth Amendment to an “ink blot” that the Court should not interpret.203Nomination of Robert H. Bork to Be an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States: Hearings Before the S. Comm. on the Judiciary, 100th Cong. 249 (1987) (statement of Judge Robert H. Bork). Judge Bork’s conception should be rejected because it underestimates the judiciary’s abilities, ignores history, and is impractical.

Judge Bork’s interpretation should be rejected because it ignores a provision of the Constitution due to its potential for being difficult to interpret. Judge Bork underestimated the Court. The “task of translating the majestic generalities of the Bill of Rights” is daunting.204W. Va. State Bd. of Educ. v. Barnette, 319 U.S. 624, 639 (1943). However, this task is the province and duty of the judges who comprise the federal judiciary.205See Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137, 177 (1803). There is no exception to this province and duty in cases that raise complex and profound questions.

Furthermore, Judge Bork’s conception is not historically defensible from any conceivable originalist perspective.206For a pithy primer on the Ninth Amendment’s origin, see Barnett, supra note 148, at 236–44. For more expansive reading on the Ninth Amendment’s history, see generally Lochlan F. Shelfer, How the Constitution Shall Not Be Construed, 2017 BYU L. Rev. 331 (2017) (explaining the Clause’s Anti-Federalist side and its application to procedural, positive, and natural rights); Russell L. Caplan, The History and Meaning of the Ninth Amendment, 69 Va. L. Rev. 223 (1983) (detailing the historical evidence of the Ninth Amendment’s meaning for unenumerated federal rights). For Anti-Federalists, enumerating any rights was dangerous because doing so could be construed to imply the nonexistence of other rights.207See Randy E. Barnett, The Ninth Amendment: It Means What It Says, 85 Tex. L. Rev. 1, 8 (2006). James Madison acknowledged this criticism when he defended the Constitution’s ratification and offered a provision, which became the Ninth Amendment, that expressly guaranteed protection for unenumerated rights.2085 James Madison, Amendments to the Constitution, in The Writings of James Madison 384–85 (Gaillard Hunt ed., 1904). Although Ninth Amendment scholars have come to vastly different conclusions—from natural-rights readings209See generally Barnett, supra note 207 (arguing that the Ninth Amendment at enactment meant to say that unenumerated natural rights should be treated in the same manner as enumerated natural rights in the Bill of Rights). to readings emphasizing control for local governance210See generally Kurt T. Lash, The Lost Original Meaning of the Ninth Amendment, 83 Tex. L. Rev. 331 (2004) (bringing to light previously missed or unrecognized evidence regarding the original meaning of the Ninth Amendment).—it appears there was more underneath the ink blot than Judge Bork thought.

Finally, Judge Bork’s conception is impractical. Some unenumerated-rights protections, including those for contraception and same-sex marriage, enjoy support from Justices across the ideological spectrum. The differences are in degree, not kind. For example, the Dobbs majority opinion, a concurring opinion, and the joint dissenting opinion all claimed to stand for unenumerated rights other than abortion.211Compare Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2280 (2022) (“[W]e have stated unequivocally that [n]othing in this opinion should be understood to cast doubt on precedents that do not concern abortion.” (citation modified) (alteration in original) (citation omitted)), and id. at 2309 (Kavanaugh, J., concurring) (“I emphasize what the Court today states: Overruling Roe does not mean the overruling of [precedents involving contraception or marriage], and does not threaten or cast doubt on those precedents.”), with id. at 2319 (Breyer, Sotomayor & Kagan, JJ., dissenting) (criticizing the majority for undermining unenumerated rights to same-sex intimacy, marriage, and contraception). The idea of stripping all unenumerated rights of constitutional protection is simply unthinkable. For example, the right to interracial marriage is unenumerated.212The word marriage is not explicitly mentioned anywhere in the Constitution. See U.S. Const. However, any prominent person who suggests that it is not a right protected by the Constitution is instantly and vociferously rebuked.213In 2022, Senator Mike Braun (who is now Indiana’s governor) said interracial marriage ought to be left to the states, but he walked back his comments almost immediately after uttering them. Indiana Sen. Braun Walks Back Interracial Marriage Comments, Associated Press (Mar. 23, 2022, at 11:48 AM PST), https://apnews.com/article/ketanji-brown-jackson-us-supreme-court-race-and-ethnicity-racial-injustice-lifestyle-091656750d8685dbe19d3d5493785595 [https://perma.cc/9XLF-SHLF]. Aside from its indefensibility as a matter of history and principle, the idea that all unenumerated rights would be summarily stripped of constitutional protection is beyond the realm of realistic possibilities.

  1. The Presumption of Liberty Approach: Ninth Amendment Maximalism

Randy E. Barnett has written extensively on the Ninth Amendment214See Barnett, supra note 148, at 236–44 (explaining how the Ninth Amendment paired with the Privileges or Immunities Clause justifies a “[p]resumption of [l]iberty” for individuals to act freely unless the government can justify a restriction); Barnett, supra note 207, at 3 (arguing that the Ninth Amendment should be interpreted to presume liberty); Randy E. Barnett, Kurt Lash’s Majoritarian Difficulty: A Response to a Textual-Historical Theory of the Ninth Amendment, 60 Stan. L. Rev. 937, 939–40 (2008) (criticizing Kurt Lash’s “[t]extual-[h]istorical” interpretation of the Ninth Amendment). and has his own grand Ninth Amendment theory. Under Barnett’s theory of unenumerated rights, one could first conduct an originalist analysis to determine which unenumerated rights get constitutional recognition.215See Barnett, supra note 148, at 257. However, Barnett conceded that originalist materials would be insufficient to recognize all the rights worthy of Ninth Amendment protection, so the sphere of unenumerated rights would be even more expansive than originalism could contemplate.216See id. at 261. Barnett advocated a framework that presumes liberty for unenumerated rights.217See id. at 262. Presuming liberty would place the burden on the government to establish why any government infringement on individual freedom is both necessary and proper, rather than assuming constitutionality when possible.218Id. In determining when liberty should be presumed, Barnett’s dividing line is a rightful/wrongful conduct distinction.219See id. at 264–68.

Barnett’s contributions to Ninth Amendment scholarship are admirable, but his solutions are quixotic. First, to presume liberty would be to undo fundamental canons of construction. Established canons of constitutional construction dating back to the early nineteenth century demand that “[n]o court ought, unless the terms of an act rendered it unavoidable, to give a construction to [a statute] which should involve a violation, however unintentional, of the constitution.”220Parsons v. Bedford, 28 U.S. (3 Pet.) 433, 448–49 (1830). To reverse the paradigm to one in which the federal judiciary seeks to strike down laws that touch so-called “rightful activity”221Barnett, supra note 148, at 264. would be catastrophic. The current Court’s desire to take more issues out of constitutional law and insert them into the democratic process is at odds with Barnett’s framework.222Cf. Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2265 (2022) (criticizing prior decisions for removing the issue of abortion from the democratic process).

Aside from the current Court’s probable unwillingness to adopt the kind of radical shift that Barnett supports, workability concerns are sufficient to reject Barnett’s framework. In recent years, the Court expressed frustration with unworkable rules of law and overruled precedents on that basis.223See, e.g., id. at 2272–74; Loper Bright Enters. v. Raimondo, 144 S. Ct. 2244, 2270–71 (2024). The idea that the Court would adopt a rightful/wrongful conduct test for trial and appellate courts to apply to every piece of legislation is fantasy.

To be sure, Barnett’s theory is far from the only Ninth Amendment framework. Many theories abound.224Lochlan F. Shelfer provided a thoughtful and expansive survey of Ninth Amendment scholarship that is better to cite than to imitate. See Shelfer, supra note 206, at 337–43. For example, Kurt T. Lash’s theory considers the Ninth Amendment through a federalism prism that emphasizes retained powers in addition to retained rights.225See Kurt T. Lash, On Federalism, Freedom, and the Founders’ View of Retained Rights: A Reply to Randy Barnett, 60 Stan. L. Rev. 969, 976–77 (2008). In any event, Barnett’s presumption-of-liberty theory represents the opposite of Judge Bork’s ink-blot theory. Between Barnett’s Ninth Amendment maximalism and Judge Bork’s Ninth Amendment ignorance lie too many possibilities to ponder in this Note.

An ideal rule for the Court to adopt in inaugurating its Ninth Amendment jurisprudence would be one that is workable, in line with current precedents, and moored by “respect for the teachings of history.”226Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479, 501 (1965) (Harlan, J., concurring in the judgment). A workable rule of law would promote consistency and predictability to a constitutional provision that many may fear due to its unpredictability.227See supra note 194 and accompanying text. A rule of law in line with current precedents regarding unenumerated rights would prevent the instability that a brand-new rule might invite. A rule of law grounded in respect for history and tradition would avoid the open-ended judicial activism of the Lochner era.228See Dobbs, 142 S. Ct. at 2248.

  1. Glucksberg’s Goldilocks Test

Fortunately, there is an established test that is workable and guided by history. Further, this test is more than merely consistent with current precedents—it is current precedent.

The Court adopted a sensible unenumerated-rights framework in Washington v. Glucksberg.229Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U.S. 702, 720–21 (1997). The framework requires a “careful description” of the asserted liberty interest.230Id. at 721 (citation omitted). The careful description provides a buffer against broad assertions of a liberty interest that could mean anything and everything. Additionally, adopting an approach that describes a liberty interest rather than a retained right231The Ninth Amendment mentions “rights” but not liberties. U.S. Const. amend. IX. The Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause speaks of “liberty” but not rights. U.S. Const. amend. XIV. is appropriate because liberty and right have been used interchangeably since the American Revolution.232See Curtis, supra note 17 and accompanying text. Then, there is a two-pronged test for deciding whether the Due Process Clause protects a right, and this framework applies to evaluating unenumerated rights.

First, we have regularly observed that the Due Process Clause specially protects those fundamental rights and liberties which are, objectively, deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition (“so rooted in the traditions and conscience of our people as to be ranked as fundamental”), and “implicit in the concept of ordered liberty,” such that “neither liberty nor justice would exist if they were sacrificed.”233Glucksberg, 521 U.S. at 720–21 (citations omitted) (citing another source).

The above framework gets at the heart of the Ninth Amendment, even though it brands itself as a Due Process Clause analysis. The language about a right needing to be “objectively, deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition”234Id. (emphasis added) (citation modified) (citations omitted). is appropriate for evaluating which rights have been “retained by the people.”235U.S. Const. amend. IX. For a right to be retained, the right could not have recently come into existence—thus the deeply rooted phrasing. This approach shows proper respect for history’s teachings, prefers judicial restraint and caution,236Richard S. Myers, Pope John Paul II, Freedom, and Constitutional Law, 6 Ave Maria L. Rev. 61, 66 (2007). and averts the unrestrained judicial activism of the Lochner era.237See Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2248 (2022). The history-and-tradition prong also ensures that the Ninth Amendment would preserve an existing right. Any analysis that claims the Ninth Amendment is not the source of substantive rights238See Schmidt, supra note 191 and accompanying text. is telling a lawyerly half-truth. The nation’s history and tradition are the source of the rights retained by the people in the Ninth Amendment.

The Glucksberg test also scores high in workability when lower courts have applied the test to purported unenumerated rights in various contexts.239For a broader survey of federal courts applying Glucksberg’s two-pronged test to unenumerated rights, see Alexander E. Hartzell, Comment, Implied Fundamental Rights and the Right to Travel with Arms for Self-Defense: An Application of Glucksberg to Anglo-American History and Tradition, 69 Am. U. L. Rev. F. 69, 83–87 (2020). For example, not long after the Court decided Glucksberg, the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals applied the two-pronged test to reject a petitioner’s asserted unenumerated right to be free from unjust or arbitrary incarceration.240See Hawkins v. Freeman, 195 F.3d 732, 747–50 (4th Cir. 1999) (applying Glucksberg’s two-pronged analysis). In another case, the Eighth Circuit Court of Appeals had no difficulty applying Glucksberg to uphold an Iowa statute limiting where sex offenders could reside.241See Doe v. Miller, 405 F.3d 700, 713–14 (8th Cir. 2005) (applying Glucksberg’s two-pronged analysis to reject petitioner’s argument that the right “to live where you want” is a protected unenumerated right). In 2024, a federal district court judge in Murphey v. United States had little issue applying Glucksberg’s two-pronged test to reject a plaintiff’s asserted right to grow, possess, and use psychedelic and other drugs.242See Murphey v. United States, 726 F. Supp. 3d 1039, 1053–54 (D. Ariz. 2024). Additionally, in the district court’s application of the test in Murphey, the court looked to Supreme Court decisions that counseled against recognizing additional rights because “guideposts for responsible decisionmaking in this unchartered area [were] scarce and open-ended.”243Id. at 1052 (citing Collins v. City of Harker Heights, 503 U.S. 115, 125 (1992)). Lower courts have proven Glucksberg to be workable.

The second prong allows judges to ensure that sordid practices do not get constitutional protection merely for existing long enough to be deeply rooted in the nation’s history and tradition. As Justice Stevens observed in Bowers v. Hardwick, “neither history nor tradition could save a law prohibiting miscegenation from constitutional attack.”244Bowers v. Hardwick, 478 U.S. 186, 216 (1986) (Stevens, J., dissenting). However, the right to interracial marriage is beyond doubt implicit in the concept of ordered liberty.245See Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1, 12 (1967). Moreover, there may be “room for play in the joints”246Walz v. Tax. Comm’n of N.Y., 397 U.S. 664, 669 (1970). between the first prong and second prong.247Chief Justice Burger described the tension between the Free Exercise Clause and Establishment Clause in this manner, and the tension between Glucksberg’s first and second prongs is somewhat analogous. Id. at 669–70. The first prong may act as a nonabsolute constraint on the second prong. Regarding the relationship between the prongs, Justice Kennedy wrote, “History and tradition guide and discipline [the second prong] but do not set its outer boundaries.”248Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644, 664 (2015) (citation omitted).

To be sure, the second prong requires courts to “exercise reasoned judgment.”249Id. But the exercise of reasoned judgment is inherent to the judicial power. It is “emphatically the province and duty of the judicial department to say what the law is.”250Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137, 177 (1803). Neither political branch has the power to identify constitutional rights.251See City of Boerne v. Flores, 521 U.S. 507, 535–36 (1997) (ruling that Congress has no power to interpret the Constitution or declare rights). Thus, the proper body for identifying rights in the context of the Ninth Amendment is the judicial branch.252See Cooper v. Aaron, 358 U.S. 1, 18 (1958) (“[T]he federal judiciary is supreme in the exposition of the law of the Constitution . . . .”). Through its substantive-due-process jurisprudence, the Court has already

recognized a number of unenumerated rights deemed to be fundamental.253See, e.g., Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1, 12 (1967) (protecting the right to interracial marriage); Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U.S. 558, 578–79 (2003) (protecting the right to private sexual acts between consenting adults). If it continues to do so, it ought to do so through the proper means: the Ninth Amendment. Doing so gives unenumerated rights a place in law that is more secure than substantive due process.

VI.  THE FRAMEWORK APPLIED

The PI + 9 Framework would apply amendments one through nine to the states through the Privileges or Immunities Clause and conduct its unenumerated-rights inquiry under the Ninth Amendment by using the two-pronged Glucksberg test. Figure 1 shows how amendments one through nine would apply to state governments under the PI + 9 Framework.

Figure 1.  The PI + 9 Framework

A.  The Framework for Enumerated Rights

The PI + 9 framework has the benefit of simplicity, especially as the framework applies to enumerated constitutional rights, such as the right to bear arms.254U.S. Const. amend. II. Under the PI + 9 Framework, the Second Amendment would apply to the states via the Privileges or Immunities Clause. There would be no need to consider whether the Second Amendment is implicit in the concept of ordered liberty because it would automatically be incorporated via the Privileges or Immunities Clause. A judge would only consider whether the state law violates the Second Amendment, which would get to the heart of the issue more quickly than a gratuitous rehashing about the wisdom or foolishness of substantive due process. Under the PI + 9 Framework, the state law would be analyzed in accordance with pertinent Second Amendment precedents, such as New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen255N.Y. State Rifle & Pistol Ass’n v. Bruen, 142 S. Ct. 2111 (2022). and District of Columbia v. Heller.256District of Columbia v. Heller, 554 U.S. 570 (2008).

In any opinion concerning a state law’s alleged abridgment of the Second Amendment, the Court would quickly state what is clear from the text, legislative history, and original intent,257See supra Section II.B. which is that the Privileges or Immunities Clause applies every right in the Bill of Rights to the states. Then, the Court would decide whether the state law at issue violates the Second Amendment. In the Second Amendment context, the prevailing test remains the test from Bruen.258“When the Second Amendment’s plain text covers an individual’s conduct, the Constitution presumptively protects that conduct. The government must then justify its regulation by demonstrating that it is consistent with the Nation’s historical tradition of firearm regulation.” Bruen, 142 S. Ct. at 2129–30. Any difficulties arising from applying Bruen259“Courts have struggled with this use of history in the wake of Bruen. One difficulty is a level of generality problem.” United States v. Rahimi, 144 S. Ct. 1889, 1925 (2024) (Barrett, J., concurring). could be hashed out purely within the confines of the Second Amendment. Full incorporation takes distracting debates about substantive due process off the table and decreases judicial discretion as it relates to incorporation. The focus would be more on the right itself rather than the procedure by which the right in question is incorporated.

  1. PI + 9 Applied to a Hypothetical About an Enumerated Right

Assume the following hypothetical factual scenario:

After increasing pressure from the public, Iowa enacts Statute One,260Statute One is modeled after Iowa Code § 724.4B (2025). which criminalizes the “carrying, transportation, or possession of any firearm on the grounds of any public school in the state of Iowa.” After Statute One’s enactment, Tina attends a parent-teacher conference at a public school in Marion, Iowa, with a loaded Glock 17 pistol in a holster on her hip. After seeing the holstered pistol, a student at the school calls the police, and the police arrive at the school and arrest Tina. Tina is charged with violating Statute One, and a jury convicts her in Linn County District Court. The Iowa Court of Appeals affirms the conviction. Tina petitions for a writ of certiorari to the Supreme Court of the United States, challenging her conviction and alleging that Statute One violates the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution. The Supreme Court of the United States grants certiorari.

Under these facts, a Court using the PI + 9 Framework would state that the Second Amendment applies to the states through the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause.261See U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1. No inquiry would occur into whether the Second Amendment right is deeply rooted or implicit in the concept of ordered liberty. Once incorporated, the Second Amendment would operate “identically to both the Federal Government and the States.”262Timbs v. Indiana, 139 S. Ct. 682, 689 (2019) (citation omitted). Given that, the Court would apply the pertinent Second Amendment precedents.

The Court would apply Bruen’s inquiry and make the government “demonstrate that the regulation is consistent with this Nation’s historical tradition of firearm regulation.”263Bruen, 142 S. Ct. at 2126. Here, the Court could look to a precedent like Heller, which held that forbidding firearms in “sensitive places such as schools” was permissible and consistent with historical restrictions.264District of Columbia v. Heller, 554 U.S. 570, 626 (2008). The Court could also conduct a historical analysis to confirm or reject the view set forth in Heller about the presumptively lawful nature of prohibitions against guns in schools.265Id. at 627 n.26. Under the hypothetical set of facts, the Privileges or Immunities Clause would mandate that the Second Amendment be applied to the Iowa government. The Supreme Court’s precedents on the Second Amendment would control, and the petitioner’s conviction would likely be upheld.

  1. The Framework for Unenumerated Rights

The PI + 9 Framework for unenumerated rights requires just a few more steps than the PI + 9 Framework for enumerated rights. First, the Court would incorporate the Ninth Amendment against the states via the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause.266U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1. Then, the Court would carefully describe the liberty interest at stake in accordance with Glucksberg’s “careful description” mandate.267Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U.S. 702, 721 (1997) (citation omitted). After formulating a careful description of the asserted unenumerated right at issue, the Court would analyze under the Ninth Amendment268See supra Figure 1. whether (1) the right is “deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition”;269Glucksberg, 521 U.S. at 720–21 (citation omitted). and (2) whether the right is “implicit in the concept of ordered liberty.”270Id. at 721 (citation omitted). If the Court answered yes to those two questions, the Ninth Amendment would protect the right from infringement by the federal government and state governments.

  1. PI + 9 Applied to a Hypothetical About an Unenumerated Right

Assume the following hypothetical factual scenario:

After a public campaign against homeschooling, California enacts Statute Two, which mandates, “No parent may homeschool their child, and all children must attend an accredited private or public school. Parents who violate this statute are guilty of a felony.” Tom is a parent in Los Angeles, California who homeschools his son. After Statute Two’s enactment, Tom continues homeschooling his child because he believes he can provide a better education for his son than any nearby public or private school. After a neighbor reports Tom to the police for homeschooling, Tom is arrested and charged with violating Statute Two. Tom is convicted of violating Statute Two in the Los Angeles County Superior Court and appeals to the California Second District Court of Appeal, which affirms his sentence. Tom petitions for a writ of certiorari to the Supreme Court of the United States, challenging his conviction and alleging a violation of his Ninth Amendment right to homeschool his child. The Supreme Court of the United States grants certiorari.

Under these facts, a Court using the PI + 9 Framework would first note that the right at issue here is not enumerated in the Constitution. Thus, a Ninth Amendment inquiry is apt. The Court would quickly explain that the Privileges or Immunities Clause applies the Ninth Amendment to the states. Then, the Court would carefully describe the right at issue in the instant case, which is the right to homeschool one’s child. After carefully describing the right, the Court would answer each Glucksberg prong: (1) whether the right is deeply rooted in the nation’s history and tradition; and (2) whether the right is implicit in the concept of ordered liberty.

Under the first prong, the Court would be free to conduct an independent historical analysis. Homeschooling in America predates the American Revolution.271See Tanya K. Dumas, Sean Gates & Deborah R. Schwarzer, Evidence for Homeschooling: Constitutional Analysis in Light of Social Science Research, 16 Widener L. Rev. 63, 68 (2010). Many colonies passed laws in the seventeenth century that required parents to educate their children.272Milton Gaither, Homeschool: An American History 6 (2d ed. 2017). Colonial fathers were expected to teach their children reading and religion.273Id. at 11. Abigail Adams homeschooled her children, and the Adams family was not unique among New Englanders in this respect.274See id. at 25–26. Before the Civil War, enslaved people used home education as a means to defy racist anti-literacy laws.275Id. at 46. Today, homeschooling is legal in all fifty states,276Dumas et al., supra note 271, at 68. except for the fictitious California in the hypothetical.

Additionally, early-twentieth-century Supreme Court cases decided issues related to the right of parents to make decisions about their child’s education. If the Court decided that the early twentieth century was early enough to inform the history-and-tradition inquiry, the Court could cite Pierce v. Society of Sisters277Pierce v. Soc’y of Sisters, 268 U.S. 510 (1925). and reaffirm Pierce’s proposition that parents have a right “to direct the upbringing and education of children under their control.”278Id. at 534–35. The Court could also rely on Meyer v. Nebraska, which held that “[c]orresponding to the right of control, it is the natural duty of the parent to give his children education suitable to their station in life.”279Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390, 400 (1923). The cases recognizing a right of parents to control the upbringing of their children are more than one hundred years old. Those cases, in addition to historical evidence, buttress the proposition that the right to homeschool one’s children is deeply rooted. The Court would answer (1) in the affirmative and move on to answering whether the right to homeschool one’s children is implicit in the concept of ordered liberty.

The Court would likely also answer (2) in the affirmative and hold that the right to homeschool one’s child is implicit in the concept of ordered liberty. In Meyer, the Court held that the right to “establish a home and bring up children” was protected by the Constitution.280Id. at 399. Additionally, the right to homeschool one’s child could be drawn within the sphere of “related rights of childrearing, procreation, and education” that the Court has recognized.281Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644, 667 (2015). Under sufficiently analogous precedents and the exercise of reasoned judgment, the Court would hold that the right to homeschool one’s children is implicit in the concept of ordered liberty. After carefully describing the right at issue and satisfying Glucksberg’s two prongs, the Court would hold that the Ninth Amendment protects the right to homeschool one’s children and would void Statute Two.

VII.  ADVANTAGES OF THE PI + 9 FRAMEWORK

The PI + 9 Framework has three main advantages: (1) it provides a stronger mechanism for protecting individual rights; (2) it is a more efficient, clear, and appropriate means by which to incorporate the Bill of Rights; and (3) it could lead to the development of Ninth Amendment jurisprudence.

A.  Putting Individual Rights on Stronger Footing

The primary advantage of the PI + 9 Framework is that it puts the precious civil liberties enshrined in the Constitution on stronger footing. Every single right recognized by substantive due process is always somewhat in doubt because of the dubious, wobbly nature of the doctrine. Why risk it? Those alarmed by Justice Thomas’s concurrence in Dobbs,282Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228, 2301–02 (2022) (Thomas, J., concurring). which suggested that all substantive due process precedents ought to be reconsidered, have nobody to blame but themselves if they previously championed a flawed doctrine like substantive due process. Individual substantive rights are too important to leave behind the unlocked door of a process-related clause. The PI + 9 Framework gives substantive rights the defense they deserve by providing power to the text, history, and intent of the Privileges or Immunities Clause.

B.  Efficiency, Clarity, and Respect for the People’s Amendments

The PI + 9 Framework offers a better approach to incorporation than substantive due process. Glucksberg’s application to enumerated rights is inappropriate, inefficient, and unclear. It is inappropriate because a judge should not answer whether an amendment to the Constitution is sufficiently important to qualify as a sort of “super right” to be incorporated against the states. Each provision of the Bill of Rights was important enough for two-thirds of Congress and three-fourths of the states283See U.S. Const. art. V. to add the provision to the nation’s founding document. Furthermore, it is inefficient because it requires a two-pronged analysis for provisions that were clearly fundamental enough to liberty to be included in the Constitution and are part of the nation’s history and tradition since 1791. Finally, there is a lack of clarity as to why some amendments in the Bill of Rights are more vital to liberty than others. As Justice Thomas wrote in McDonald, a Privileges or Immunities Clause analysis is “far more likely to yield discernible answers” than substantive due process.284McDonald v. City of Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 855 (2010) (Thomas, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment). If the Court were to adopt the PI + 9 Framework, there would be no more ink spilled or time wasted defending substantive due process. The Court could instead get to the business of interpreting what each provision of the Bill of Rights means and how it ought to be construed and applied to the facts of a case.

C.  Development of Ninth Amendment Jurisprudence

Another benefit of the PI + 9 Framework is the development of Ninth Amendment jurisprudence. In carrying out its duty to “say what the law is,”285Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137, 177 (1803). the judicial branch ought to tell the American people what the Ninth Amendment means. Scholars may argue about the proper interpretation and construction of the Ninth Amendment, and this Note advocates Glucksberg’s two-pronged approach. Such words are wind. Only the judiciary can give meaning to the Constitution’s text. Perhaps this will mean freezing the American people’s rights as of 1791 or 1868.286Contra Dobbs, 142 S. Ct. at 2306 (Kavanaugh, J., concurring) (“[T]he Constitution does not freeze the American people’s rights as of 1791 or 1868.”). Perhaps this will mean a presumption of liberty that would drastically curtail the role of government in Americans’ lives.287See supra Section V.C.2. Perhaps this will mean adopting Glucksberg’s two-pronged approach. However, the first Court opinion that grounds itself in the Ninth Amendment could give birth to a new age of Ninth Amendment scholarship and jurisprudence aimed at discovering the proper meaning and construction of the Ninth Amendment. Each time the Court is tempted to defer interpretation of the Ninth Amendment and choose the more well-trodden path of substantive due process, the Court instead ought to heed the words of Chief Justice Marshall: “It cannot be presumed that any clause in the [C]onstitution is intended to be without effect; and therefore such a construction is inadmissible, unless the words require it.”288Marbury, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) at 174.

CONCLUSION

The PI + 9 Framework secures rights in a more robust, efficient, and clear manner than substantive due process does. Substantive due process is worse than a mere contradiction in terms. The ever-expanding reach of substantive due process has robbed two provisions of the Constitution—the Privileges or Immunities Clause and the Ninth Amendment—of the importance they deserve. Any stare decisis issues would be more well-founded if most of the Bill of Rights had not already been incorporated. Moreover, the substantive changes that replacing substantive due process with the PI + 9 Framework would cause are the incorporation of the Third Amendment, the Fifth Amendment’s Grand Jury Clause, and the Seventh Amendment, and using the current controlling framework for unenumerated rights. Thus, adopting the Framework would not cause a significant expansion or diminution in substantive rights. Far from an expansion or diminution, the PI + 9 Framework offers enumerated and unenumerated rights the durable, efficient, and clear protection that American privileges and immunities deserve.

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 359

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*Articles Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 99; J.D. Candidate 2026, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.S. 2023, Boston University. I thank my supervisor, Professor Rebecca Brown, for providing me with careful suggestions and guidance as I wrote this Note. I am grateful to the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their diligence in improving this Note. All errors are my own. 

Pants on Fire: How the Brinkmann Majority Forgot About the Takings Clause in a Takings Clause Case

INTRODUCTION

In 2016, Ben and Hank Brinkmann (the “Brinkmanns”) embarked on a journey of building a hardware store on an empty, commercially zoned lot in the Town of Southold, New York (“the Town”).1Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief at 6–7, Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, No. 2:21-cv-02468, 2022 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 180199 (E.D.N.Y. Sept. 30, 2022).

In 2017 and early 2018, the Brinkmanns met with the Town Planning Department to “create and revise site plan applications” for the hardware store.2Brief in Opposition, On Petition for Writ of Certiorari at 5, Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, No. 23-1301 (2d Cir. June 11, 2024). At the beginning of 2018, the Brinkmanns filed their first permit application.3Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 8–9. This application contained a site plan, which allegedly underwent two rounds of revisions while implementing the Planning Department’s requests.4Id. The Town denied the permit three months later. The Brinkmanns claimed that the Town informed them that “no site plan had been approved by the Planning Department.”5Id. at 9. In May 2018, the Brinkmanns again applied for site plan approval.6Id. In July 2018, the Town allegedly demanded that the Brinkmanns pay for a $30,000 Market and Municipal Impact Study.7Id. at 10–11. According to the Town, such a market study was required because the Brinkmanns wanted to “construct a big box hardware store in a small, semi-rural hamlet on eastern Long Island,”8Brief in Opposition, On Petition for Writ of Certiorari, supra note 11, at i. which was not in the best interest of the Town.

There are two sides to every story, and this is where the stories begin to significantly diverge. For their part, the Brinkmanns allege that the Town never conducted the $30,000 study they paid for, despite being legally required to do so.9Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 15–16. Yet the Town asserted that it had “complied procedurally and substantively with New York eminent domain law.”10Brief in Opposition, On Petition for Writ of Certiorari, supra note 11, at 1.

The Brinkmanns argue that the Town chose to acquire their parcel despite the availability of an adjacent undeveloped plot of land, which the Town “never [even] considered acquiring.”11Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 13–14. The Brinkmanns further allege that in October 2018, the Town took even more “drastic measures,” “pressur[ing]” the bank to breach its own “purchase contract [with the Brinkmanns] for the vacant lot” and demanding that the bank enter into a purchase contract with the Town of Southold instead.12Id. at 14. The Brinkmanns were “[u]ndeterred” by the Town’s intimidation tactics.13Memorandum and Order at 5, Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, No. 2:21-cv-02468, 2022 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 180199 (E.D.N.Y. Sept. 30, 2022).

In February 2019, the Town enacted a six-month moratorium on new building permits.14Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 15. The Brinkmanns argue that the moratorium was limited to a “one-mile stretch of road,” essentially targeting their lot.15Id. The Town claims, however, the six-month moratorium was on “any new building permits along one mile of Route 25, which included the Brinkmanns’ proposed site, among several other businesses.”16Brief in Opposition, On Petition for Writ of Certiorari, supra note 11, at 5 (emphasis added).

The Town then twice extended the moratorium—first in August 2019 and then again in July 2020.17Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 16. The Brinkmanns allege that the Town extended the moratorium contrary to Suffolk County’s disapproval and despite lacking any evidentiary support for these moratoriums.18Id. at 16–17. The Town also generously gave out moratorium waivers, but not to the Brinkmanns.19Id. at 17–18. The Town emphasizes the Brinkmanns never applied for such a waiver in the first place—an application which the Brinkmanns “believed [would be] futile, as the moratorium was clearly target[ing them].”20Brief in Opposition, On Petition for Writ of Certiorari, supra note 11, at 5; Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 18. In May 2019, the

Brinkmanns sued the Town to end the moratorium.21Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 16. In June 2020, “[t]he state trial court denied the Town’s motion to dismiss.”22Petition for Writ of Certiorari at 5, Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, No. 23-1301 (June 11, 2024).

In August 2020, the Planning Board “held a public hearing on the proposed project to build a public park” on the Brinkmanns’ lot.23Brief in Opposition, On Petition for Writ of Certiorari, supra note 11, at 6. In September 2020, the Town issued a “Findings and Determination” in which it concluded that the “acquisition [of the Brinkmanns’ lot would] benefit the public” because a public park would allow “the residents of Mattituck and Southold . . . the opportunity to create . . . [a] community gathering place.”24Id. at 6–7. In May 2021, the Town “initiat[ed] condemnation proceedings on the [Brinkmanns’ lot].”25Id. at 7. The Brinkmanns note that the Town’s September 2020 announcement of the acquisition of their lot via eminent domain conveniently occurred shortly after the state trial court allowed the Brinkmanns to proceed with their moratorium claim against the Town.26Petition for Writ of Certiorari, supra note 31, at 5. The Brinkmanns argue that with the Town of Southold’s “moratorium gambit on the rocks, the Town suddenly decided that it needed a new park.” The Brinkmanns also emphasize that the park the Town decided to build was a passive use park that lacks “any improvements” or facilities.27Id.

Moreover, a September 2020 article published in The Suffolk Times by Southold Town Board Member Sarah Nappa drew attention to the Brinkmanns. In the article, Nappa hints at there being good probability that the Town exercised its eminent domain power because it disliked the Brinkmann family.28Sarah Nappa, Guest Column: Eminent Domain Decision Sets a Dangerous Precedent, The Suffolk Times (Sept. 19, 2020), https://suffolktimes.timesreview.com/2020/09/guest-column-eminent-domain-decision-sets-a-dangerous-precedent [https://perma.cc/7YD2-XQ4X]. Nappa wrote: “I can’t help but wonder, if this application had been filed by anyone but an outsider, if this business was owned and operated by a member of the ‘old boys club,’ would the town still be seizing their private property? The use of eminent domain by Southold Town to take private property from an owner because it doesn’t like the family or their business model is a dangerous precedent to set.” Id. Nappa opined that the Brinkmanns’ fate would have likely been different had they been members of the Town of Southold’s “old boys club,” as opposed to being community “outsider[s].”29Id.

In a 2-1 decision in 2024, the Second Circuit’s Brinkmann majority affirmed the lower court’s ruling in favor of the Town.30Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, 96 F.4th 209, 210 (2d Cir. 2024). Even though the panel agreed that the Brinkmanns’ complaint alleged “facts sufficient to support a finding that the [Town’s] decision to create the park was a pretext for defeating the Brinkmanns’ commercial use”31Id. at 210 (emphasis added). and conceded that the Town exercised its eminent domain power only after the failure of its various “regulatory hurdles,”32Id. the Brinkmanns still lost. So, what went wrong for the Brinkmanns?

Apart from examining the Brinkmann majority’s reasoning to answer this question, this Note proposes a heightened scrutiny analysis for bad-faith takings via the tripartite burden-shifting framework. Although this evidentiary framework was put forth in McDonnell Douglas Corporation v. Green,33McDonnell Douglas Corp. v. Green, 411 U.S. 792 (1973). an employment discrimination case, the application of the framework has not stopped there. The framework has also been applied by Daniel B. Kelly in the context of takings driven by “impermissible favoritism”: when a “favored private entit[y]” or person has a “benefit[]” conferred on them, “with only incidental . . . public benefits.”34Kelo v. City of New London, 545 U.S. 469, 491 (2005) (Kennedy, J., concurring).

What happened to the Brinkmanns, however, is arguably the exact opposite of favoritism. Thus, this Note extrapolates the tripartite burden-shifting framework to takings arising out of disfavor, from reasons ranging from discrimination and animosity to outright bias. Such an inquiry has largely gone unexplored due to the common assumptions that (1) strict deference to the legislature should somehow justify or excuse bad-faith takings or (2) the Equal Protection Clause is sufficient to address discriminatory takings. This Note will address both of these arguments and also illustrate what is at stake if bad-faith takings continue to slip consequence-free through the cracks of American jurisprudence.

Section I briefly provides an overview of takings in general, largely focusing on the history of the rapid expansion of “public use.” Section II explores Brinkmann’s reasoning, highlighting its many legal conclusions, each of which exhibits flaws. Section III focuses on the Ninth and Seventh Circuits to discuss the federal circuit split. Finally, Section IV examines the tension between rational basis review and some unspecified form of heightened scrutiny proposed by Justice Kennedy’s concurrence in Kelo v. City of New London.35Id. Section IV then uses Justice Kennedy’s heightened scrutiny suggestion as an entry point to examining the tripartite burden-shifting framework and its application to takings motivated by discrimination and bias. After extrapolating Kelly’s scholarship to bad-faith takings, Section IV examines the perils of adopting rational basis review instead. Section IV further underscores why the Equal Protection Clause and the doctrine of unconstitutional animus, while attractive solutions at first glance, are actually inadequate to the task in this context. Section IV concludes with an assessment of Brinkmann’s societal impact.

I.  HISTORY AND BACKGROUND: THE RAPID EXPANSION OF “PUBLIC USE”

The Takings Clause of the Fifth Amendment provides: “[N]or shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.” This clause applies to the states through the Fourteenth Amendment.36U.S. Const. amend. V. What the Takings Clause prohibits is governmental takings of private property without just compensation, not takings altogether.

So, what does “public use” encompass? Perhaps the more salient question, though, is what does “public use” exclude? Traditionally, the Takings Clause was used by governmental entities to “condemn and acquire property to be used by the public” in innocent, even useful, ways: for example, “building public roads or providing for utilities infrastructure” like electric transmission lines.37Kevin J. Lynch, Forced Pooling: The Unconstitutional Taking of Private Property, 75 U.C. L.J. 1335, 1342 (2024). Most people acknowledged, understood, and even “appreciate[d]” this eminent domain power to condemn private property for conversion into public use, provided there was just compensation.38Id. at 1352. Without this inherent power to appropriate land, the public would not have highways, courthouses, post offices, and railroads (the so-called clear instances of public use).39United States v. Carmack, 329 U.S. 230, 236 (1946). And without these amenities and structures, society would probably cease to function. The public was relatively content with this interpretation of public use because everyone got their share: all members of the public had access to these public uses and “benefit from the system” that provided the “basics of modern life.”40Lynch, supra note 46, at 1352. But then something happened—an expansion of the concept of public use beyond highway-building.

Public use became an “amorphous concept, resistant to precise definition”41Lynda J. Oswald, Public Uses and Non-Uses: Sinister Schemes, Improper Motives, and Bad Faith in Eminent Domain Law, 35 B.C. Env’t Aff. L. Rev. 45, 53 (2008). and—conveniently for the government—began to be defined broadly.42Id. From its humble beginnings as a non-contentious issue, eminent domain erupted into a “hotly contested” area of law.43Lynch, supra note 46, at 1344. In 1908, the Supreme Court held in Hairston v. Danville & Western Railway Company “that it is beyond the legislative power to take . . . the property of one and give it to another for what the court deems private uses,” despite “full compensation.”44Hairston v. Danville & W. R. Co., 208 U.S. 598, 606 (1908). This was likely comforting to hear; members of the public probably understood this statement as the Court saying that taking private party A’s property to give it to private party B was off-limits. But then, private corporations began to seek the “power to condemn property for their own objectives.”45Daniel B. Kelly, The Public Use Requirement in Eminent Domain Law: A Rationale Based on Secret Purchases and Private Influence, 92 Cornell L. Rev. 1, 10 (2006). There had been a shift in takings jurisprudence.

In its 1925 Old Dominion Land Corporation v. United States decision, the Supreme Court emphasized that the legislative branch, as it pertains to public use, is “entitled to deference until it is shown to involve an impossibility.”46Old Dominion Land Co. v. United States, 269 U.S. 55, 66 (1925). But the legislative branch’s limitless power to deem any non-impossible undertaking a public use was hardly the only facet of takings doctrine abused by both private and governmental entities.

In 1954, the Supreme Court decided Berman v. Parker.47Berman v. Parker, 348 U.S. 26 (1954). In Berman, the Court allowed an administrative agency to take a non-blighted department store and redevelop it “so as to . . . prevent slum . . . housing conditions.”48Id. at 26. The department store was also to be transferred to a “private development corporation for the purpose of curing blight.”49U.S. Comm’n on Civ. Rts, The Civil Rights Implications of Eminent Domain Abuse iii (2014), https://www.usccr.gov/files/pubs/docs/FINAL_FY14_Eminent-Domain-Report.pdf [https://perma.cc/2FWM-5P6D]. Petitioners argued that this would make it a “taking from one business [person] for the benefit of another.”50Berman, 348 U.S. at 33. The Court ruled, however, that the so-called “means” of “executing [a] project are for Congress and Congress alone to determine”51Id. and that the “public end may be as well or better served through an agency of private enterprise . . . or so the Congress might conclude.”52Id. at 33–34.

So long as Congress believes that an act of conferring a private benefit from party A to party B “may” or “might” serve the public, such a taking is Berman-blessed. Thus, Berman found constitutional the District of Columbia Redevelopment Act of 1945—which, among other things, authorized sales of “condemned [private] lands to [other] private interests.”53Hawaii Housing Authority v. Midkiff, 467 U.S. 229, 239 (1984) (discussing Berman). Under Berman, public use essentially became synonymous with everything under the sun, just as long as the taking was justified by some nominal argument citing “public health, safety, morals, [or] welfare.”54Berman, 348 U.S. at 28 (quoting § 2 of the District of Columbia Redevelopment Act of 1945). But this Berman reiteration was hardly surprising in the context of Old Dominion. If anything, Berman was a case that truly legitimized hostility to private property owners, reinforcing public use as a broad concept that works to benefit governmental interests. Berman further underscored the irony that “public use” also serves to benefit private corporations that profit from such projects. This Note will return to Berman in Section IV.D to examine its catastrophic fallout.

In 1984, the Supreme Court decided Hawaii Housing Authority v. Midkiff, examining the validity of the Land Reform Act of 1967.55Midkiff, 467 U.S. 229. The Act authorized a transfer of titles from lessors to lessees, so as “to reduce the concentration of land ownership.”56Id. at 231–32. This blunt conveyance of private property from party A to party B (a private beneficiary) neither raised concern nor constituted a taking “as having only a private purpose.”57Id. at 230. So, although the Midkiff Court acknowledged that there was obviously some type of private purpose here (i.e., person B receiving person A’s private property), the Court emphasized that “[i]t is not essential that the entire community, nor even any considerable portion [of the community], . . . directly enjoy or participate in any improvement in order . . . to constitute a public use.”58Id. at 244 (quoting Rindge Co. v. Cnty. Of Los Angeles, 262 U.S. 700, 707 (1923)).

Thus, under Midkiff the public use definition was even further expanded; a taking no longer even had to benefit a considerable portion of the community. This begs the question: how many members of the community would need to benefit for a taking to constitute a valid public use? Perhaps zero—if one subscribes totally to Berman-esque legislative deference where Congress might “conclude” that the public may be served in some way via a taking.

A basic overview of takings law cannot be complete without consideration of Kelo v. City of New London, a highly divisive 5-4 decision of the Supreme Court from 2005.59Kelo v. City of New London, 545 U.S. 469 (2005); Oswald, supra note 50, at 54. Kelo plays a major role in the Brinkmann decision, the unfortunate North Star of this Note. The Kelo majority authorized the taking of Susette Kelo’s “non-blighted”60Oswald, supra note 50, at 55. little pink house in the name of a “speculative” economic development rationale.61Gregory S. Knapp, Maintaining Government Accountability: Calls for a “Public Use” Beyond Eminent Domain, 83 Ind. L.J. 1098, 1100 (2008) (“Another line of criticism focuses . . . on the speculative nature of economic development takings.”). The little pink house and several others like it were to be torn down so Pfizer Inc., a private pharmaceutical company, could erect a $300 million research facility in their place.62Kelo, 545 U.S. at 473. The New London Development Corporation (“NLDC”) wanted to erect this $300 million Pfizer facility so as to attract new commerce, create jobs, generate tax revenue, and help to “build momentum for the revitalization of downtown New London.”63Id. at 474. This “momentum” also apparently included making New London more “attractive.”64Id.

Kelo’s most egregious overstep is that none of these public uses were actually reasonably expected to occur or even had to occur. They were merely alleged, and indeed, were “speculative” because neither Pfizer nor NLDC would be required to use the condemned property “in a way that [actually] bolsters the local economy.”65Knapp, supra note 70, at 1100. Viewed differently, not only is the conveyance of private benefit to a private party permissible under Kelo if there is embedded therein some whiff of public use, but this whiff of public use no longer even need be actualized. Instead, it can simply be hypothetical. And this line of criticism tracks with the Kelo majority, who emphasized the sufficiency of NLDC merely “believ[ing]” the development plan would benefit the community.66Kelo, 545 U.S. at 483. The Kelo majority further disagreed with Susette Kelo that there needs to be “reasonable certainty” that the “expected public benefit[]” will actually “accrue.”67Id. at 487.

Where did this absolute faith in what NLDC was alleging come from? One can cite federalism, as did the majority in virtually every federal decision upholding a taking. Sure, the Kelo majority said that the “amount and character of land to be taken” and the “need” for specific land “rests in the discretion of the legislative branch.”68Id. at 489. Sure, to negate these consequences of lack of oversight, checks and balances, and even de minimis accountability, states can impose public use requirements that are “stricter than the federal baseline.”69Id. But if states are the only ones who care about not “wash[ing] out” all distinctions between public and private uses, this will lead to a drastic discrepancy.70Id. at 494 (O’Connor, J., dissenting). Justice Sandra Day O’Connor warns that, thanks to the Kelo majority, some states now might as well replace all “Motel 6[s] with . . . Ritz-Carlton[s],” or other little pink houses with shopping malls, or farms with factories, simply because they might revitalize or possibly beautify a city.71Id. at 503. Justice O’Connor further posits that if the legislative branch is the “sole arbiter[] of the public-private [use] distinction, the Public Use Clause [will] amount to little more than hortatory fluff.”72Id. at 497. Judicial checks on interpretation of public use are necessary if the Public Use Clause, as a “constraint on government power[,] is to retain any meaning.”73Id.

Moreover, as Justice O’Connor further points out, the true impact of such radical deference to the legislative branch will, of course, be disparate.74Id. at 505 (“Any property may now be taken for the benefit of another private party, but the fallout from this decision will not be random.”). What happens when the government can take “private property currently put to ordinary private use,” such as homes and small family businesses, and “give it over” for new private use—a use that can, but does not have to, “generate some secondary benefit for the public”?75Id. at 501. The “beneficiaries” will likely be large entities, development firms, and people with “disproportionate influence and power in the political process” at the expense of those with less resources.76Id. at 505.

After Kelo was decided, newly discovered evidence revealed that NLDC “blocked” a competitive bidding process for the site to guarantee that Pfizer would get it.77Daniel S. Hafetz, Ferreting Out Favoritism: Bringing Pretext Claims After Kelo, 77 Fordham L. Rev. 3095, 3112 (2009). NLDC used eminent domain to “appease” Pfizer.78Id. So much so that the President of NLDC wrote a letter to Pfizer before Pfizer announced its plans, promising to “meet Pfizer’s requirements.”79Id. To this end, NLDC promised to “buy up all the[] properties [in Susette Kelo’s neighborhood], clearing the way for redevelopment in line with Pfizer’s wishes.”80Id. And NLDC ultimately did everything to “entice[] Pfizer to join the project by letting Pfizer dictate the contours of the [redevelopment], including the decision to condemn the properties in [Susette] Kelo’s neighborhood.”81Id. None of this was known at trial, and one could certainly speculate that the Kelo decision may have been different had the Kelo Court

known about the driving force behind these vague promises of economic revitalization—or perhaps not.

Although these are seminal cases in takings jurisprudence, they focus solely on the act of conferring a private benefit on another private party through the transference of property rights. They do not discuss takings which are inherently driven by discrimination, racism, homophobia, or animosity toward condemnees. That is, they do not tackle the issue of what happens when a governmental entity simply decides to condemn party A’s property out of hostility toward party A’s family, for instance. Although Brinkmann ostensibly seeks to address this question, the Brinkmann majority relied heavily on Kelo to show that Kelo imposes no requirement that the “government’s stated objective” be “genuine” and free from “pretext for some other, illegitimate purpose.”82Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, 96 F.4th 209, 211 (2d Cir. 2024). Hence the importance of discussing Kelo at length before this Note could delve into an explanation of how the Brinkmann majority likely misinterpreted Kelo. This discussion will take place in Section II(C). Another crucial takeaway from Kelo resides in Justice Kennedy’s concurrence, specifically Justice Kennedy’s reference to the possibility of some unknown form of demanding scrutiny and when it should be invoked.83Kelo v. City of New London, 545 U.S. 469, 493 (2005)(Kennedy, J., concurring).

II.  THE BRINKMANN CASE

The purpose of this Section is to examine some of the Brinkmann majority’s arguments in support of their decision to dismiss the Brinkmanns’ bad-faith takings claim. This Section demonstrates why the Brinkmann majority’s reasoning is, in many ways, flawed and therefore does not support its holding.

A.  The Impossible Inquiry That Is (Actually) Possible

According to the Brinkmann majority, looking beyond the Town’s stated purpose behind a taking is an exercise “fraught with conceptual and practical difficulties.”84Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 213. Such inquiry, holds the Brinkmann majority, is too demanding and would require courts to look into the “subjective motivation of every official who supported the [taking]”; this task is too demanding because motives are “rarely, if ever, pure.”85Id. at 213–14. True, examining the intentions of every single official involved in the condemnation process would indeed be an exercise that is, at best, impracticable. Nonetheless, the logical assumption underpinning the Brinkmann rationale—namely, that scrutiny of every official’s underlying motive is necessary to determine the presence of bad faith—is, to put it mildly, a bit flawed.

But the Brinkmann majority took it a step further: government officials can be outright “hostile,” and the Brinkmann majority would still deem the taking valid as long as there is merely an asserted valid public use.86Id. As openly admitted by the Town, even if the Town condemns homes of “disfavored minorities” purely “out of animus toward those minorities and a desire to drive them out of  [Town],” this, too, would constitute a valid taking if the park excuse is presented to disguise that animosity.87Id. at 233 (Menashi, J., dissenting) (“During oral argument in this appeal, the Town frankly acknowledged that, under its view of the public use requirement, the Town could seize the homes of disfavored minorities—out of animus toward those minorities and a desire to drive them out of Southold—as long as the Town said it would build parks where the minorities’ homes once stood.”).

By prioritizing judicial efficiency and simple-to-apply bright-line rules over ones that actually protect rights, the legal landscape in the wake of the Brinkmann decision is not merely grimly unfair; it verges on dystopian because bad faith slips through the cracks in the name of judicial efficiency.

Simple-to-apply, bright-line rules are not without their charms, however: they are easy to comprehend, produce consistent results, and are hard to misapply. But what happens when said consistency renders unfair outcomes? What happens when a condemnee has fistfuls of objective evidence that they have been wronged, but the court refuses to even consider any of it because doing so would apparently be too demanding an undertaking?

These simple-to-apply rules produce blatant injustices: as precedent, Brinkmann authorizes courts to deem a taking valid as long as there is any asserted public use, even if the condemnees could prove that the condemnation process was initiated and executed in bad faith.

Critically, none of these examples of conduct tackle the incentives or motives of any official. Instead, they come down to objective evidence. One need not delve into why the town officials enacted a moratorium over the protest of the county planning commission. One need not know why the town officials refused to send the county any evidentiary support concerning the supposed need for a moratorium. Similarly, one need not know the reason why the town never conducted an expensive market study that the condemnees had paid for, thereby expressly violating its own city code.88The Brinkmanns argued that the Town violated City Code § 280-45(B)(10)(b) (2025). See Town of Southold, N.Y., Town § 280-45(B)(10)(b) (2025) (“[T]he Planning Board shall conduct or hire a consultant to conduct a Market and Municipal Impact Study, at the expense of the applicant. The study shall be completed within 90 days of receipt of all requested materials . . . . ”). None of this evidence demands discernment of inscrutable motivations. This impossible inquiry is possible because it need not address the motivations of every official involved.

What is truly egregious in Brinkmann is the objective evidence provided. Hence why the Brinkmann majority had no difficulty in finding that the Town’s taking was pretextual.89Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 219 (Menashi, J., dissenting) (“The court acknowledges that the complaint in this case ‘alleges facts sufficient to support a finding that the decision to create the park was a pretext for defeating the Brinkmanns’ commercial use’ of their own property and that the Town decided to seize the Brinkmanns’ property for a park only ‘after varied objections and regulatory hurdles that the Town interposed and that the Brinkmanns did or could surmount.’ ”). The Brinkmann majority reached their conclusion via factual inquiry and managed to parse the evidentiary record. Other courts would similarly have no problem in conducting such inquiries on a routine basis.

B.  The Brinkmann Majority’s Disregard of Their Own Precedent, Goldstein v. Pataki

If the plaintiff fails to provide sufficient evidence of a taking that is a pretext for private purpose or instead animus, dislike, or spite, courts can absolutely reject their claims and have done so in the past. But this ability to screen out plaintiffs who lack sufficient evidence is actually a good thing because it greatly streamlines the judicial process. No case better exemplifies this than Goldstein v. Pataki, a 2008 Second Circuit case that the Brinkmann majority, ironically, cites extensively.90See Goldstein v. Pataki, 516 F.3d 50 (2d Cir. 2008). Why ironically? Because Goldstein in no way supports the Brinkmann majority’s position.

  1.  Significance of Objective Evidence

The Goldstein plaintiffs claimed that “the [alleged] public uses were pretexts for a private taking” because Mr. Ratner, the owner of the New Jersey Nets and the Project’s primary developer, was the project’s “sole beneficiary,” while all the invoked public uses were mere “pretexts advanced by corrupt . . . state officials.”91Id. at 54–55. The plaintiffs did not prevail for various reasons—each of which would likely be sufficiently dispositive when taken individually.

The plaintiffs failed to provide objective evidence of the corruption they alleged, or of any bad faith for that matter. Thus, beyond “far-reaching allegation[s]” the plaintiffs had nothing to offer the court.92Id. at 54 (“The heart of the complaint . . . and the centerpiece of the instant appeal, is its far-reaching allegation that the Project, from its very inception, has not been driven by legitimate concern for the public benefit on the part of the relevant government officials.”). The biggest error committed by the Goldstein plaintiffs was that they failed to allege “any specific examples of illegality . . . by which the Project was approved” or any “specific illustration of improper dealings between Mr. Ratner and . . . government officials.”93Id. at 64. Noteworthy here, however, is the fact that the Goldstein court was open to hearing such evidence in the first place. And, unlike the Brinkmann majority, the Goldstein court would not have considered the process of evaluating said evidence to be “fraught with conceptual and practical difficulties.”94Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, 96 F.4th 209, 213 (2d Cir. 2024). Instead, the Goldstein court actively sought such evidence. The Goldstein court wanted the plaintiffs to provide them with evidence of bad faith, so they could actually assess and analyze the bad faith that the plaintiffs alleged. Yet the plaintiffs provided the Goldstein court with essentially nothing beyond “mere suspicion[s].”95Goldstein, 516 F.3d at 62. It is unsurprising, then, that the Goldstein court dismissed the plaintiffs’ claim.

Further, as emphasized by Judge Menashi, the dissenting judge in Brinkmann, the Goldstein court dismissed the plaintiffs’ claim “not because pretextual takings are permissible” but only because the allegations of pretext lacked specificity.96Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 228 (Menashi, J., dissenting). The Goldstein court’s concern was that a “reasonable juror” would simply not be able to conclude that the asserted laundry list of traditional public uses was mere pretext.97Id. (Menashi, J., dissenting). Now, contrast this with Brinkmann: The Brinkmann majority expressly admitted that the Brinkmanns’ “complaint . . . allege[d] facts sufficient to support a finding that the decision to create the park was a pretext.” Thus, evidence of pretext was definitely not lacking in Brinkmann.98Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 210.

  1. Possibility of Closer Objective Scrutiny

The Goldstein court also stated that they wished to “preserv[e] the possibility that a fact pattern may one day arise in which the circumstances” would so align that “a closer objective scrutiny” would be “required” in the context of pretextual takings.99Goldstein, 516 F.3d at 63. To justify this closer objective scrutiny, the so-called “circumstances of the [condemnation’s] approval process” would have to “greatly undermine the basic legitimacy of the outcome reached.”100Id. Naturally, the Goldstein plaintiffs’ utter failure to provide facts supporting their allegations of bad faith, pretext, and illegality did not trigger that closer

objective scrutiny to which the Goldstein court alluded as a possibility in some pretextual takings cases.

The Goldstein fact pattern, however, is not present in all cases, and there are cases in which the plaintiffs can and do provide the court with ample evidence concerning pretext, thus triggering a closer objective scrutiny. Brinkmann presented precisely such a fact pattern. In Brinkmann, the “circumstances” surrounding the process of a passive park approval ranged from the Town’s alleged lawbreaking arising out of the Town’s refusal to conduct the $30,000 market study for which the Brinkmanns had paid to the allegedly baseless moratoriums. Such accusations must have, at a minimum, been supported by objective evidence that the Brinkmanns provided, as the Brinkmann majority even noted that the Brinkmanns’ complaint alleged “facts sufficient to support a finding that the [Town’s] decision to create the park was a pretext for defeating the Brinkmanns’ commercial use.”101Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 210.

But returning to the Goldstein rule, here the “approval” consisted of the Town authorizing the condemnation of the Brinkmanns’ parcel. And as to the “outcome” reached: one could plausibly argue that a regulation-abiding family business was shut down, and the parcel was condemned simply so others could enjoy a park without any amenities. The rule that Goldstein sets out, calling for a closer objective scrutiny, can therefore be applied to the Brinkmann facts. On its face, Brinkmann checks off all three elements of the Goldstein rule: circumstances, approval, and outcome. Of course, counterarguments could be made here, such as (1) building a hardware store in this specific location might further “increas[e] traffic in an area that is already dangerous” and (2) residents of the Town of Southold have numerous “concerns” about this hardware store and do not want the Brinkmanns to build it.102Nappa, supra note 37. But all of these accusations and counterarguments would likely require closer objective scrutiny—as opposed to automatically blessing a bad-faith taking because the condemner asserted some public use.

  1. Pretextual Taking: A Claim of Dubious Jurisprudential Pedigree?

One last aspect of Goldstein worth addressing is how the Brinkmann majority emphasized that, apparently, pursuant to Goldstein, “a pretext-based challenge to a taking has a ‘dubious jurisprudential pedigree.’ ”103Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 213. This is largely taken out of context and is an inappropriate generalization. The Goldstein court said that the “particular kind of ‘pretext’ claim the plaintiffs [raised] in this case . . . bears an especially dubious jurisprudential pedigree.”104Goldstein, 516 F.3d at 62. What has a dubious jurisprudential pedigree is the evidentiary underpinning of the Goldstein plaintiffs’ pretext claim, not all other pretext-based claims outside of the Goldstein realm; Mr. Ratner offered an extensive list of “well-established” public uses to counter the Goldstein plaintiffs’ claim.105Id. at 55. Contrast Goldstein’s “creation of affordable housing units,” “mass-transit improvements,” and “redress of blight” with Brinkmann’s 1.7-acre empty park.106Id. at 52–59. The difference is as starkly evident as it is profound, indicating that the Brinkmanns’ assertion of a pretextual taking was not of dubious jurisprudential pedigree.

C.  The Possibly Fatal Mistake of Kelo Misinterpretation

Before this Note addresses the Brinkmann majority’s possible misinterpretation of Kelo—or at least, its failure to consider alternative interpretations and dispose of them appropriately—an important question should be addressed: Why does it matter how the Brinkmann majority interpreted Kelo? The answer is simple: the Kelo misinterpretation alone likely cost the Brinkmanns their property.

The Brinkmann majority helped themselves to generous portions of Kelo—or, more specifically, the following Kelo passage—which is the key in this analysis: “[T]he [C]ity would no doubt be forbidden from taking petitioners’ land for the purpose of conferring a private benefit on a particular private party . . . Nor would the [City] be allowed to take property under the mere pretext of a public purpose, when its actual purpose was to bestow a private benefit.”107Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 212 (quoting Kelo v. City of New London, 545 U.S. 469, 477–78 (2005)) (emphasis added).

  1. An Unwarranted Inference Drawn by the Kelo Majority

The Brinkmann majority confidently asserted that the “mere pretext of a public purpose” language is not an “overarching prohibition against any and all purposes alleged to be ‘illegitimate.’ ”108Id. at 211; id. at 212 (quoting Kelo v. City of New London, 545 U.S. 469, 477–78 (2005)). Per the Brinkmann majority, Kelo imposed no requirement that the “government’s stated objective . . . be genuine, and not a pretext for some other, illegitimate purpose,” unless that purpose concerns bestowal of private benefit.109Id. at 211 (quoting Appellants’ Brief at 19). The Brinkmann majority concluded that, under Kelo, “the only impermissible pretext is bestowing a private benefit.”110Id. at 226 (Menashi, J., dissenting) (emphasis added). So only when there is an alleged private purpose (e.g., private party A conferring a private benefit on B, another private party) does the Brinkmann majority actually care to delve into whether the government’s stated objective is genuine. Other kinds of pretext such as prevention of a legal land use (think a family-owned hardware store), spite, and discrimination are permissible under Brinkmann—as long as there is an asserted valid public use.111Id. (Menashi, J., dissenting).

And in Brinkmann, bestowal of private benefit was not alleged, so the Brinkmanns were simply out of luck.112Id. at 213 (Per the Brinkmann majority, the Brinkmanns did not prevail because they did “not allege that the Town meant to confer [a] . . . private benefit,” and thus did “not point[] to any Town purpose that violate[d] the Takings Clause”). In Brinkmann, the issue was not that the government bestowed a private benefit upon some private party at the Brinkmanns’ expense. Nor was there some other permutation of the “private benefit” concern. Instead, at issue was a municipality taking private land for a pretextual public use (i.e., a passive use park)—not for purposes of giving the land to some other private party.

But here an interesting wrinkle emerges in the Brinkmann majority’s logic: when did Kelo say that the sole impermissible takings are those in which the government’s actual motive is to bestow a private benefit upon some private party? Similarly, when did Kelo say that takings driven by spite, discrimination, or animus are allowed and require no inquiry into both purpose and mechanics? These are trick questions because Kelo never said either, and yet the Brinkmann majority inferred that it did.

It would seem that the likely reason why Kelo’s “mere pretext of a public purpose” language is immediately followed by a bestowal of private benefit qualifier is because Kelo, as a case, focused exclusively on private use. At issue in Kelo was whether the city could seize private property from one private party in order to confer a benefit on another private party, all for the ostensible purpose of economic development. Accordingly, by what logic can the Brinkmann majority confidently decree which other pretextual takings are permissible or impermissible when the only issue before the Kelo court involved private use and nothing else? Or are we supposed to assume that because private benefit was the only kind of pretext mentioned by Kelo, this now suddenly means that all other kinds of pretext are excluded from this status of impermissibility, therefore making them permissible under all circumstances—even the most egregious?

  1. Two Ways of Interpretation: Examining New England Estates LLC v. Town of Branford

The Brinkmann majority interpreted “mere pretext of a public purpose” as stating that the only impermissible takings are those in which there is a conveyance of private benefit.113Id. at 226 (Menashi, J., dissenting) (“Today’s decision interprets [Kelo] . . . to mean that the only impermissible pretext is bestowing a private benefit.”). The same language, however, can also be interpreted thusly: takings that convey a private benefit, along with other forms of pretextual takings (e.g., those arising out of spite, discrimination, or unfair prohibition of running a regulation-abiding family business) are all impermissible. This Kelo language does not necessarily close all doors to other claims stemming from other forms of pretext, as claimed by the Brinkmann majority. One can just as well argue that Kelo merely provided a single, non-exclusive example of pretext (i.e., conveyance of private benefit) and the reason why this example pertained to conveyance of private benefit and not something else is because Kelo is a case that narrowly addresses the private benefit issue. But this act of providing a single example of pretext does not deny protection to all other kinds of pretextual takings. The “mere pretext of a public purpose” language does not delineate what is excluded from the so-called “pretext.” Nor does Kelo place any restrictions or limits upon potential plaintiffs raising other types of pretextual takings claims, such as those involving discrimination or spite.

This idea of varying interpretation of the Kelo language was also examined in New England Estates, LLC v. Town of Branford, a 2010 Connecticut Supreme Court decision which is in direct opposition to Brinkmann.114See New England Estates, 988 A.2d 229. Notably, the Second Circuit (where Brinkmann was decided) includes Connecticut in its footprint.115Besides New York and Vermont, the Second Circuit of the United States Court of Appeals, where Brinkmann was decided, also includes Connecticut. In New England Estates, New England Estates wanted to build an affordable housing development near the landfill.116New England Estates, 988 A.2d at 236–37. The Town committee then abruptly decided that the town had an urgent need for playing fields precisely where the affordable housing development was to be built.117Id. at 238.

Apart from the dire need to build a playing field, the town in New England Estates also decided to bolster its tenuous position via an alternative justification for the taking by citing environmental concerns surrounding the proposed development’s proximity to the landfill.118Id. at 236. And this justification would have probably worked had there been no evidence to the contrary: (1) an internal memorandum outlining which strategies had already been implemented by the town for the sole purpose of “protecting the town against affordable housing appeals” and (2) “internal communications” among town officials revealing just how much they did not want an affordable housing development.119Id. at 237.

To justify its environmental concerns, the town relied on a one-page sketch of the playing fields and a five-page letter, which outlined “generic” concerns regarding building residential developments near landfills.120Id. at 238. Beyond alluding to “possibilities” of such contamination, the letter said nothing substantive in regard to the specific landfill at issue.121Id. The incriminating internal communications, coupled with the town officials’ sudden environmental concerns at a time very convenient for them, followed swiftly by the exercise of eminent domain power to stop the affordable housing project, made it rather easy for the New England Estates court to properly halt the town’s bad faith actions.122Id. at 252–53.

The town argued that it did not violate the Takings Clause by being “dishonest” about its reasons for taking the land because the Takings Clause only prohibits takings for private use, not other kinds of pretextual takings.123Id. at 252 (The Town in New England Estates “argue[d] that the public use clause prohibits only a taking of private property for a use that is not a public use and does not provide a remedy for a taking that is undertaken in bad faith . . . . ”). If this argument sounds familiar, it is because this is precisely what the Brinkmann majority emphasized: the “[Brinkmanns’] complaint does not allege that the Town meant to confer [a] private benefit” and because an “unimproved” public park still constitutes public use, this makes the condemnation valid.124Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, 96 F.4th 209, 213 (2d Cir. 2024). Unlike the Brinkmann majority, however, which praised this reasoning, the New England Estates court rejected the town’s assertion that takings become violations solely when the government seizes private property for a private use.125New England Estates, 988 A.2d at 252. This assertion made by the town in New England Estates is identical to that of the Brinkmann majority126Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 217 (Per the Brinkmann majority, Kelo’s “current pronouncement on ‘pretext’ concerns only the pretext of non-public (that is, private) use.”). and also has its roots in a possible misinterpretation of Kelo, as examined in this Section.

The New England Estates court emphasized that the town’s reliance on Kelo “for the proposition that only a taking for the purpose of conferring a benefit on a private party constitutes a violation of the [Takings Clause]” is incorrect.127New England Estates, 988 A.2d at 253 n.27. Such a reading of Kelo’s “mere pretext of a public purpose” language interprets the Takings Clause in an unjustifiably “overbroad[]” manner.128Id. That is, it takes Kelo’s prohibition against bestowals of private benefits and extends it to say that the sole impermissible takings are those in which there is a bestowal of private benefit. Further, because the “issue of whether a bad-faith taking would violate the [Takings Clause]” was never before the Kelo court to begin with,129Id. (“Kelo did not involve any allegations that the city of New London acted in bad faith in taking private property.”). the inference that bad-faith takings should go unchecked cannot be made. Thus, the Connecticut Supreme Court would disagree with the Brinkmann majority concerning the interpretation of the pretext language in Kelo.

It is the current reality of the takings landscape that whether a Connecticut resident loses or prevails on their pretextual taking claim now largely depends on choice of venue.130Petition for Writ of Certiorari, supra note 31, at 12. In Connecticut state court, someone with a Brinkmann-esque fact pattern would likely prevail on the merits.131Id. Yet that same hypothetical person marching into federal court would summarily lose for lack of an alleged bestowal of private benefit.132Id.

III.  THE NINTH & SEVENTH CIRCUITS

This Section examines the reasoning of the Ninth and Seventh Circuits in cases that resemble Brinkmann and tackle bad-faith takings analysis. Both circuits, to varying degrees, stand in contrast to the Brinkmann majority which conducted no such analysis.

A.  Analysis of the Ninth Circuit

In the 1966 Ninth Circuit decision, Southern Pacific Land Company v. United States, the Ninth Circuit stated that when administrative agencies engage in takings for an “authorized public purpose,” such takings are “not subject to judicial review,” with one crucial exception.133S. Pac. Land Co. v. United States, 367 F.2d 161,162 (9th Cir. 1966) (“[T]he Supreme Court itself has declined to rule out the possibility of judicial review where the administrative decision to condemn a particular property or property interest is alleged to be arbitrary, capricious, or in bad faith. And various courts of appeal, including this one, have said that an exception to judicial non-reviewability exists in such circumstances.”) (citations omitted). Takings for an authorized public purpose can be subject to judicial review if the administrative agency’s decision to condemn a property is “alleged to be arbitrary, capricious, or in bad faith.”134Id. While easy enough to allege, this standard is deferential to administrative agencies, resulting in a low likelihood of success for plaintiffs. In fact, the Ninth Circuit even stressed how unlikely it is for plaintiffs in such cases to succeed: “in each instance in which a lower court set aside a federal agency’s determination that it was necessary to take [a] particular property . . . the lower court’s ruling was reversed on appeal.”135Id. There are many ways of challenging an arbitrary administrative action. For instance, a plaintiff can demonstrate that the agency has “relied on factors which Congress has not intended it to consider [for purposes of executing an administrative action],” failed to consider “relevant factors” or an “important aspect of the problem” before engaging an administrative action, or failed to examine potential policy alternatives of “achieving the objectives.” Motor Vehicle Mfrs. Ass’n of U.S. v. State Farm Mut. Auto. Ins. Co., 463 U.S. 29 (1983). Because this Note focuses on the Takings Clause, a comprehensive discussion of administrative law and arbitrary administrative actions is beyond its scope. The principle nevertheless stands: there are instances when the Ninth Circuit will examine alleged bad faith in takings claims, even though these allegedly bad-faith takings all bear expressly stated ostensible public uses.

A natural inquiry in this line of analysis is to examine what is required to clear the Ninth Circuit’s high bar for challenging administrative agencies’ “arbitrary” takings. The Ninth Circuit instead provides multiple examples of how not to satisfy it, which all come down to the quality of bad faith evidence. If the evidence of bad faith is insubstantial or nonexistent—especially coupled with very big, almost scandalous, but largely unsupported assertions—the Ninth Circuit will not invalidate the administrative agency’s taking.

In Southern Pacific, the Southern Pacific Land Company (“SPLC”) owned 4,600 acres of land, including the mineral rights.136Id. at 161. The U.S. Government wanted to condemn the land and the mineral rights for purposes of constructing a naval air station.137Id. SPLC thought it advantageous to essentially imply that the U.S. Government decided to profit off SPLC’s land and engage in an “outside land speculation.”138Id. at 163 (quoting Brown v. United States, 263 U.S. 78, 84 (1923)). When deposed, the Assistant Secretary of the Navy testified to the exact opposite of this assertion, stating that mineral extraction was actually “inconsistent with the establishment of the naval air station, and was not [even] contemplated when the declaration of taking was filed.”139Id. at 162–63. In fact, the primary reason for condemnation was so that the land and the associated mineral rights would be utilized to produce oil only “in the case of emergency.”140Id. at 163. And just like that, with absolutely no evidence to refute any of the U.S. Government’s aforementioned points, the plaintiffs did not prevail on their bad-faith taking claim.141Id.

A subsequent 1968 Ninth Circuit decision, Scott Lumber Company v. United States, is largely identical to Southern Pacific’s reasoning and, unfortunately, its outcome too.142Scott Lumber Co. v. United States, 390 F.2d 388 (9th Cir. 1968). Here, the United States (on behalf of the United States Forest Service) sought to condemn appellant’s estate in timber land “for the construction, maintenance and permanent use of highways . . . and for the use, conservation and protection . . . of [the] forests [on appellant’s land].”143Id. at 390. Similar to SPLC in Southern Pacific, the Scott Lumber appellant claimed that the “taking was not for a public purpose” but instead for the “purpose of benefitting certain competitors of appellant pursuant to an illegal agreement.”144Id. As in Southern Pacific, the assertion was as unsupported as it was bold.145Id. at 391–92. Moreover, the deposition of the Acting Secretary of the Department of Agriculture also revealed nothing suspicious.146Id. at 391. Accordingly, the Scott Lumber court ruled that it was “completely satisfied” that the government’s taking was for public use—given that the “facts alleged by [the appellant], [even] taken in the light most favorable to [the appellant]” still did not “show that the action of the officials ha[d] such an arbitrary, capricious or bad faith quality as to justify [judicial] interference.”147Id. Crucially, however, the Scott Lumber court did contemplate judicial interference and was even willing to possibly invalidate a bad-faith taking had the appellant actually produced sufficient evidence of bad faith, beyond claims that were as baseless as they were audacious.148Id. (“[A] limited power of review of an administrative decision exists where it is contended that the administrative decision was arbitrary, capricious, or made in bad faith . . . . ”).

The Scott Lumber court even agreed with the lower court’s declaration that “[t]his Court need not, and will not, stand idly by and allow administrative officials to take private property arbitrarily, capriciously, [or] in bad faith,” something that cannot be said about the Brinkmann majority.149Id. If anything, this “idle” manner is emblematic of Brinkmann’s reasoning: even when there is blatant evidence of bad faith coupled with some suspect public use, the Brinkmann majority would decline to look into any “alleged pretexts and motives.”150Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, 96 F.4th 209, 211 (2d Cir. 2024). The Scott Lumber court was not only eager to conduct itself in a non-idle manner but also examined the facts in the light most favorable to the appellant. Yet, even with the Scott Lumber court largely cheering the appellant on and giving the appellant all the necessary tools to prevail, the appellant simply failed to provide evidence of bad faith.

Would a similar evidentiary framework, as employed by the Southern Pacific and Scott Lumber courts (specifically in the context of arbitrary takings by administrative agencies) make sense in the Takings Clause context? This is a ready-to-go framework that can be easily applied beyond cases where administrative agencies (such as Scott Lumber’s United States Forest Service) are accused of engaging in bad-faith takings.

Although it offers a potential solution, this framework has its pitfalls. One, it is similar to rational basis review, so much so that it even uses rational basis review’s “arbitrary” language. Such language is called for in rational basis review only because higher levels of scrutiny require something more than the regulatory action not being arbitrary. At the end of the day, it is a pretty low bar, offering little protection for condemnees’ interests; any legitimate interest (e.g., a passive use park) would suffice. Two, it is hard to define just what constitutes “good” evidence in a manner sufficient to demonstrate bad faith. And three, even if condemnees provide satisfactory evidence, the government can simply argue the following:

  • That only one or two members of the agency (or a municipality like in Brinkmann) had bad-faith intent in condemning the land (while the rest did not);
  • That it is not the province of the judicial system to disrupt a democratic process; and
  • That it is not bad faith but mere incidental disparate impact that was not actually intended.

B.  The Seventh Circuit & Question of Legislative Deference

The Seventh Circuit takes a similar approach to the Ninth Circuit: although some deference may be given to administrative agencies, evidence of arbitrariness and bad faith matters when a court evaluates whether an administrative agency’s taking was indeed for a public use. That is, the Seventh Circuit holds that there is no valid or legitimate public use if such public use stems from bad faith or pretext. So even if there is an alleged unimpeachable public use (such as a public park), the administrative agency’s taking is declared invalid if the plaintiff can prove bad faith or pretext associated with said public use.151See United States v. 58.16 Acres of Land, 478 F.2d 1055 (7th Cir. 1973). This is a stronger iteration of what the Ninth Circuit decided in Scott Lumber and Southern Pacific. The Ninth Circuit provided the condemnees with an opportunity to present evidence that could, in theory, demonstrate bad faith or arbitrariness by the administrative agency. But again, realistically, because the evidentiary bar is high and administrative agencies are (automatically) given much deference, such efforts will likely fail. The Seventh Circuit, on the other hand, made “public use” determinations conditional on there being no bad faith and reserved the judicial right to dig deeper to see if legislative deference is warranted.

In United States v. 58.16 Acres of Land—a 1971 Seventh Circuit decision—a husband and wife owned a 58.16-acre tract which primarily contained farmland on which the landowners’ home stood.152Id. at 1057. The United States wanted to take this farmland for purposes of flood control and reduction of flood crests.153Id. at 1056. The landowners then argued that the United States’ action was “arbitrary, discriminatory, capricious, vindicative, and in bad faith,” thus warranting a “valid defense to the condemnation proceeding.”154Id. at 1057. Or, in short, landowners contended that the asserted public use (to prevent flood control and reduce flood crests) was a pretext. To prove this, they cited their repeated complaints to the government regarding erosion and the government’s “failure to maintain proper water levels” from 1968 through 1970.155Id. The landowners went on to stress that “no [government] action had [ever] been taken to repair the damage or to prevent further erosion.”156Id. After three years of refusing to fix the issue and not responding to any of the landowners’ complaints, the government responded to the complaints in 1971, informing the landowners that condemning their property would be much cheaper than protecting it from erosion or floods.157Id.

It was unclear to the Seventh Circuit why the district court judge denied without merit the motion to vacate the order for possession.158Id. at 1058. The Seventh Circuit surmised that perhaps the reason the motion had been denied without merit (i.e., the motion was basically deemed frivolous) was that the district judge found against the landowners’ bad faith claim.159Id. Or, as the Seventh Circuit further posited, perhaps the district court ruled that way because the court thought that the administrative decision to condemn the land “was [simply] not judicially reviewable”—given that there was an alleged public use, regardless of the substantial pretext evidence.160Id.

The Brinkmann majority also greatly relied on a “longstanding policy of deference to legislative judgments” to rationalize inaction.161Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, 96 F.4th 209, 213 (2d Cir. 2024). Brinkmann is actually far from being the only court that emphasizes legislative deference in the takings context; it is neither a novel argument nor dispositive. For instance, even in 58.16 Acres of Land, the Seventh Circuit emphasized that “once the question of the public purpose has been decided, the amount and character of land to be taken . . . rests in the discretion of the legislative branch.”16258.16 Acres of Land, 478 F.2d at 1058. But the Seventh Circuit does not use this discretion to justify its own inertia. To the contrary, while the Seventh Circuit acknowledges and even embraces legislative deference, it nevertheless considers it proper for the judicial branch to “materially . . . aid[]” public use analysis “by exploring the good faith and rationality of the governmental body in exercising its power of eminent domain.”163Id. Therefore, the two—that is, a substantive bad-faith takings analysis and deference to the legislative branch—are not mutually exclusive. According to the Seventh Circuit, the “determination of the extent, amount or title of property to be taken . . . rests wholly in legislative discretion,” assuming there is (1) an “absence of bad faith” and (2) the “determination” to condemn was “made in good faith.”164Id. (quoting United States v. Meyer, 113 F.2d 387, 392 (7th Cir. 1940)). These “restraints” that the Seventh Circuit cleverly placed serve as evidence of how bad-faith takings analysis can peacefully co-exist with legislative deference.165Id.

The main takeaway here is that the Seventh Circuit emphasized that the district court was “required to resolve . . . questions” of “bad faith, arbitrariness, and capriciousness,” all of which bore upon the “determination of public use.”166Id. at 1059 (“In sum, questions of bad faith, arbitrariness, and capriciousness, all bearing upon the determination of public use, having been raised by the [landowners], the district court was required to resolve those questions.”). The Seventh Circuit is firm that there is no valid public use without an absence of bad faith and a presence of “good faith and rationality of the governmental body in exercising its power of eminent domain,”167Id. at 1058. and this assertion runs directly counter to the Brinkmann majority.

While the Ninth Circuit was, in theory, willing to look at evidence of bad faith, which would potentially invalidate the taking, the Seventh Circuit made a pronouncement with which the Brinkmann majority would certainly disagree. Specifically, if there is strong evidence of bad faith or arbitrariness (and the Brinkmann majority acknowledged that there had been), there can be no legitimate public use, making the taking invalid. Unlike the Seventh Circuit, the Ninth Circuit does not make a valid public use expressly dependent upon a lack of bad faith. Regardless, both circuits prioritize and actively consider evidence of bad faith, so they can draw an inference of a taking’s validity.

IV.  WHAT NOW?

The purpose of Part IV is to examine the Brinkmann fallout, while remaining solution-oriented with an eye toward the future. This Note examines which standard of review could be used to evaluate bad-faith takings on a federal level, focusing on the tripartite burden-shifting framework and also discussing the downsides of the Equal Protection Clause and the doctrine of unconstitutional animus in the context of bad-faith takings. This Section continues to imagine what could be, with the intention to move forward jurisprudentially from Brinkmann to a more fair, uniform, and dignified approach to bad-faith takings.

A.  The Dangers of Rational Basis Review

In the context of bad-faith takings, there is a conflict between rational basis review and the various forms of heightened review. While there exist various permutations of what heightened review can and should look like—and of course, much disagreement too—this Note will only closely examine the tripartite burden-shifting framework. But first, rational basis review.

One cannot talk about rational basis review in the context of property law without, yet again, mentioning Kelo. The Kelo majority “declared that a taking should be upheld as consistent with the Public Use Clause,” just as long as it is “ ‘rationally related to a conceivable public purpose.’ ”168Kelo v. City of New London, 545 U.S. 469, 490 (2005) (Kennedy, J., concurring) (analyzing the Kelo majority’s reasoning). This “deferential standard of review echoes the rational-basis test.”169Id. And rational basis review is extremely deferential to the legislative process—so much so that a “challenged law will be upheld if it could be rationally interpreted as advancing any conceivable legitimate public purpose.”170Hafetz, supra note 86, at 3103. In fact, “even the ‘flimsiest’ of reasons will survive [said] scrutiny.”171Id. at 3114. Courts are known to grant this legislative deference “even if there is nothing other than judicial speculation” to imply that the government was trying to advance a public purpose when enacting the law.172Id. at 3103. This is precisely what happened in Kelo.

Under Kelo, a mere prediction (or judicial speculation) that some public use will generate some secondary public benefit is enough.173Kelo, 545 U.S. at 501 (O’Connor, J., dissenting). Even the Kelo majority itself, likely sensing a risk for the potential abuse of eminent domain under rational review, suggested that states can and should place “further restrictions” upon the takings power.174Id. at 489. A large concern with this standard is that the embedded presumption of permissibility within the rational basis of review may “motivate[] trial judges to see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil” even in takings cases which “fail the smell test”175Gideon Kanner, The Public Use Clause: Constitutional Mandate or “Hortatory Fluff”?, 33 Pepp. L. Rev. 2, 335, 362 (2006).—chief among them the Brinkmann case.

In the takings context, rational basis review can invalidate two types of condemnations: (1) when the “asserted purpose is not a cognizable public purpose” and (2) when there is a “clear intention to benefit a private party.”176Hafetz, supra note 86, at 3115. Takings driven by bad faith (such as discrimination or arbitrarily forbidding a property owner from running a regulation-abiding family business) do not fall into either category. Why? Because an asserted public purpose such as a park is a cognizable public purpose, and discrimination would likely not involve a conveyance of private benefit upon a private party. This is why Justice Kennedy’s concurrence in Kelo suggested that “a more stringent standard of review” might be suitable for a “more narrowly drawn category of takings,” though largely referring to takings marked with “impermissible favoritism.”177Kelo, 545 U.S. at 493 (Kennedy, J., concurring).

To clarify, favoritism alludes to the governmental entity’s inherent reason “for favoring a certain party”; these reasons range from corruption to “a complex web of social and business relations.”178Hafetz, supra note 86, at 3108. One could arguably view favoritism as a particular form or sub-category of bad-faith taking, one that punishes a property owner to benefit someone else. Favoritism is prohibited “out of concerns for basic fairness.”179Id. The same exact logic, however, applies to takings which are marked by other kinds of bad faith, manifested in things like discrimination, racism, or animosity toward specific individuals—this, too, violates our inherent sense of fairness. Although Justice Kennedy’s concurrence speaks to issues of favoritism in the takings context, the reasoning outlined in the concurrence can be extrapolated further to other kinds of bad faith.

Justice Kennedy made reference to a more heightened standard of review, but he did not actually delve into the logistics of this more “stringent” standard.180Kelo, 545 U.S. at 493 (Kennedy, J., concurring). For instance, it remains unclear as to which situations warrant a “meaningful rational-basis review that in [Justice Kennedy’s] view is [always] required under the Public Use Clause” versus those meriting a “demanding level of scrutiny” which in some cases even justifies a “rebuttable” “presumption of [a taking’s] invalidity” if the “risk of undetected impermissible favoritism of private parties is [] acute.”181Id. at 492–93 (Kennedy, J., concurring). Would Justice Kennedy’s “demanding level of scrutiny” be akin to strict scrutiny? Rational basis plus? Justice Kennedy’s Kelo concurrence is vague on these questions. Justice Kennedy also failed to identify what evidence would trigger these standards or what exactly the court is supposed to do with said evidence of favoritism,182Id. at 502 (O’Connor, J., dissenting) (Not only do the “details” of Justice Kennedy’s remain “undisclosed,” but Justice Kennedy also failed to “specify[] what courts should look for in a case with different facts, how they will know if they have found it, and what to do if they do not.”). an omission for which he received much criticism.183Richard A. Posner, Foreword: A Political Court, 119 Harv. L. Rev. 32, 95 (2005) (Justice Kennedy “casting the essential fifth vote for the [Kelo] ‘majority’ opinion while also writing a separate opinion qualifying the Court’s opinion is bad practice because it leaves the reader uncertain whether the majority opinion or the concurring opinion should be regarded as the best predictor of how the Court would decide a similar case in the future. Justice Kennedy’s action is a further example of the Court’s tendency . . . to disregard the consequences of its decisions for the lower courts that have to apply them. If Kennedy had reservations concerning the majority opinion that he was not willing to swallow, he should have concurred in the judgment only; then the lower court judges and future litigants would know where they stood.”) (footnote omitted).

This Note disagrees with the assertion that Justice Kennedy exclusively referred to “rational basis plus” review.184Cameron P. Hellerman, Misusing Eminent Domain: Pretextual Takings for a Traditional Public Use, 93 Fordham L. Rev. 2229, 2243 (2025) (“Accordingly, Justice Kennedy suggested that courts employ a rational basis plus standard of review . . .”). Justice Kennedy referred to multiple standards. And yes, while Justice Kennedy’s Kelo concurrence creates much unnecessary confusion, that is the nature of the contemplated standards. Thus, the extra layer of complexity should not be swept under the rug. In fact, certain scholars even argue that the criteria185Kelo, 545 U.S. at 491–93 (Kennedy, J., concurring) (criteria such as “testimony from government officials,” “documentary evidence of communications between these parties,” and presence of a “comprehensive development plan”). Justice Kennedy considers (which supposedly triggers some form of heightened scrutiny) directly “collid[e]” with the Kelo majority’s assertion that there should be no “intrusive scrutiny”186Hafetz, supra note 86, at 3118 (“It is thus difficult to meet Justice Kennedy’s criteria without ‘colliding with the no-heightened-level-of-review standard laid down by the [Kelo] majority.’ ”); Kelo, 545 U.S. at 483.—suggesting that Justice Kennedy indeed took it a step further than rational-basis-plus review. Accordingly, this Note posits that in addition to rational-basis-plus review, Justice Kennedy was also hinting at something even more demanding.

Furthermore, although not a focus of this Note, prudence demands a discussion, albeit brief, of rational-basis-plus review. Although Justice O’Connor characterizes it as a “more searching form of rational basis review,”187Thomas B. Nachbar, Rational Basis “Plus,” 32 Const. Comment. 449, 450 (2017). the Supreme Court “has never acknowledged its existence” and Justice Scalia downright denied it.188Id. Previous inquiries into this doctrine (such as the “justification” of its presence or the “underlying theory”) were “the equivalent of a constitutional snipe hunt, and about as productive.”189Id. Overall, there certainly exists the notion that the doctrine is “suspicious” and “problematic,” given that it “lack[s] an articulated basis in principle” and “is impossible to either apply or constrain in a principled way.”190Id. at 450–51. Also, on a more practical level, it is often difficult to identify which level of scrutiny the court actually applied (i.e., rational basis versus rational-basis-plus) and most of the time this distinction is rooted in mere speculation.

Contrast the rational-basis-plus review doctrine with the burden-shifting evidentiary framework first put forth in McDonnell Douglas Corp. v. Green, a 1973 Supreme Court case.191McDonnell Douglas Corp. v. Green, 411 U.S. 792, 802 (1973). This framework has frequently been used to analyze claims of discriminatory treatment such as discrimination claims under the Americans with Disabilities Act and Title IX gender discrimination claims.192Kelly, supra note 9, at 215–16.

Thus, this Note will next explore the McDonnell Douglas burden-shifting evidentiary framework for purposes of steering bad-faith takings analysis in a more uniform and fair direction.

B.  Heightened Review: The Tripartite Burden-Shifting Standard

In the context of takings, this standard was originally proposed by Daniel Kelly to examine takings which are rooted in favoritism only.193See Kelly, supra note 9. The goal of this Note is to see how this framework would operate in the context of takings driven by discrimination and bias.

  1. Direct Versus Indirect Evidence

In part one of the analysis, an allegedly wronged employee can either produce direct or indirect evidence of discrimination.194Id. at 217. Similarly, a condemnee would be required to demonstrate that a taking is tainted with favoritism via either producing direct or indirect evidence.195Id. Direct evidence could essentially act as a “smoking gun.”196Id. And in the context of favoritism, for example, direct evidence could be satisfied by an email exchange between some private developer and a municipal official in which it is clear that the “actual purpose of the taking [was] to benefit the [private] developer.”197Id. This is a high burden to satisfy, so the indirect evidence would be more practical. The condemnee (again, in the favoritism context) would need to prove two elements: (1) that the “project involves a private party” and (2) said private party “might obtain a distinct benefit” (given that “favoritism is only possible in a project in which a private party expects to obtain an advantage”).198Id.

In the context of other kinds of bad faith, the analysis would look something like this: If the condemnee who (allegedly) was on the receiving end of bad faith decides to take the direct evidence route, they would be required to demonstrate some form of smoking gun. For example, a documented exchange in which municipal officials exhibit disdain for the condemnee—whether it be discrimination, racism, homophobia, or something else. There are a few issues with the direct evidence route, however. For instance, how likely is it that a condemnee will obtain records of these discriminatory written exchanges from multiple municipal officials, and not just one? If the animosity toward the condemnee stems from just one municipal official, should this suffice as conclusive evidence of bad faith? For instance, other municipal officials on the same board may have voted for condemnation under a genuine belief that condemnation would promote an actual public interest. Another issue with direct evidence is that most conduct is simply not marked with blunt evidence of discrimination. Further, municipal officials can easily argue that something they said was taken out of context—which may raise evidentiary issues—or was misinterpreted. So, it is therefore unlikely that a condemnee would easily satisfy the direct evidence threshold.

As to indirect evidence, Brinkmann supplies a great example. In a nutshell, the Brinkmanns could argue that the Town of Southold engaged in multiple machinations to prevent construction of the Brinkmanns’ hardware store (allegedly ranging from pressuring the bank to breach its contract with the Brinkmanns199Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 14 (“Scott Russell, the Southold Town Supervisor, called the president of Bridgehampton National Bank, Kevin O’Connor. Russell pressured O’Connor not to sell the property to the Brinkmanns . . . Russell [then also] called the president of Bridgehampton National Bank to demand that the bank breach its real-estate contract with the Brinkmanns and not close on the Property.”). to inventing moratoriums).200Id. at 17 (“When the Town sought a second extension of its moratorium . . . [from] to the Suffolk County Planning Commission, the County produced a report noting that the Town of Southold never provided the County with the supporting evidence it requested for the Town’s first extension. Thus, for this second extension, Suffolk County staff again recommended that the moratorium be ‘disapproved.’ ”). So what kind of evidence would the Brinkmanns need to show to satisfy this indirect evidence standard and establish a prima facie case of bad faith, thus satisfying the first element of the tripartite burden-shifting framework and thereby shifting the burden onto the Town to prove that the taking was not driven by bad faith? Largely mirroring the requirements of a Title VII claim, the Brinkmanns would be required to show that:201See McDonnell Douglas Corp. v. Green, 411 U.S. 792, 802 (1973) (“The complainant in a Title VII trial must carry the initial burden under the statute of establishing a prima facie case of racial discrimination. This may be done by showing (i) that [they] belong[] to a racial minority; (ii) that [they] applied and w[ere] qualified for a job for which the employer was seeking applicants; (iii) that, despite [their] qualifications, [they] w[ere] rejected; and (iv) that, after [their] rejection, the position remained open and the employer continued to seek applicants from persons of complainant’s qualifications.”).

  • Either 
    • They are members of a protected group (think religion, race, pregnancy, sex, gender, sexual orientation, national origin, etc.) or
    • Their fundamental right was infringed upon (although the right to own and use property has not been deemed a fundamental right, certain scholars have argued that such rights “need to be protected with nothing less than the judiciary’s strictest level of scrutiny.”202Daniel William Russo, Protecting Property Rights with Strict Scrutiny: An Argument for the “Specifically and Uniquely Attributable” Standard, 25 Fordham Urb. L.J. 575, 595 (1998). This is certainly an

expansion of the framework, but an argument worth considering)

(2) That they have applied and complied with all requirements in their permit application;

(3) That, although the Brinkmanns complied with all regulatory requirements,

  • The Brinkmanns’ permit application was rejected and
  • The municipality decided to seize the Brinkmanns’ land via eminent domain; and

(4) That, after the rejection,

  • The municipality continued to grant permit applications to similarly situated individuals and
  • Did not seize property of similarly situated individuals (such as adjacent lots with virtually identical characteristics, for instance).

If the Brinkmanns successfully demonstrate indirect evidence, then the burden would shift to the governmental entity to articulate some “legitimate, nondiscriminatory” reason for the permit’s rejection and subsequent taking.203Kelly, supra note 9, at 218.

  1. Beyond a Merely Cognizable Reason for Condemnation

As to the second element of the test, the burden would then be on the municipality to articulate a legitimate, non-bad faith driven reason as to why it rejected the Brinkmanns’ numerous permit applications and decided to take their land.204Id. (By analogy, in the favoritism context, assuming the “condemnee is able to satisfy step one [of this test], the burden would [then] shift to the condemner . . . [T]he condemner [would then be required] to articulate a legitimate justification for private involvement in the taking.”). In analyzing favoritism-motivated takings, Kelly emphasizes that a condemner’s mere articulation of some cognizable public purpose (such as “preserving open space” or “generating new jobs”) would be insufficient to satisfy this element.205Kelly, supra note 9, at 218. A condemner would instead be required to show why a specific kind of private involvement is required for the project to take place.206Id. at 219. For instance, perhaps said private party possesses some crucial information or expertise that other similarly situated experts do not.207Id.

The Town of Southold would satisfy this element by showing that their reason for rejecting the Brinkmanns’ permit and taking their land was not driven by bad faith. What would be that “reasonable basis” for taking the Brinkmanns’ land?208McDonnell Douglas Corp. v. Green, 411 U.S. 792, 803 (1973). This could be a wide array of things. Perhaps the Brinkmanns’ business was not compliant with regulations, or their proposed business constituted a hazard, a nuisance, or a danger to others, compelling the municipality to act to protect the safety of its residents. But such claims would require actual empirical evidence (e.g., studies done by civil engineers who hold proper qualifications) suggesting that the construction of a hardware store in that specific location would lead to a significant increase in traffic and thus present a real danger to residents. Further, these experts should be subject to cross-examination.

  1. Elevated Risk of Pretext/Bad Faith

If the condemner (in this case, a municipality) meets the burden outlined in the previous element, the “presumption” of intentional bad faith would disappear.209Kelly, supra note 9, at 219. The condemnee can nevertheless prove “disparate treatment” by showing that a condemner’s explanation is pretextual.210Id. In the context of favorability, a condemnee would satisfy this element by demonstrating a heightened risk of impermissible favoritism.211Id. at 220. For instance, a condemnee could show that a municipality was “capable of selecting a private party through a competitive process but decide[d] not to do so.”212Id.

 By analogy, for purposes of demonstrating a heightened risk of pretext, the Brinkmanns could demonstrate any of the following (this list is non-exhaustive):

(1) An overwhelming majority of Town residents did not want a passive use park213Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, 96 F.4th 209, 231 (2d Cir. 2024) (Menashi, J., dissenting) (Judge Menashi emphasizing how Sarah Nappa, “a member of the Southold Town Board . . . never even suggest[ed] anyone wanted a park at the location [where the Brinkmanns’ empty lot was].”). or actively advocated for the Brinkmanns’ hardware store;

(2) The Town had not considered any other alternatives before condemning Brinkmanns’ land and ignored the empty adjacent lot;214Id. (Judge Menashi stating that the Town was not “proposing the purchase [of the Brinkmanns’ lot] for the purpose of constructing a park because at that time the Town had not . . . [even] evaluated any alternative location for a new public park somewhere other than the property (including, for example, the possibility of purchasing the undeveloped land for sale next to the [Brinkmanns’] property) . . . . ”).

(3) The Town decided to condemn the Brinkmanns’ land only after the Brinkmanns announced their plans to build a regulation-abiding, family-owned hardware store;215Id. (Judge Menashi further pointing out that the “Town expressed no interest in acquiring the property for a park in 2011 when the property was up for sale or during the five years that the property sat vacant under the [b]ank’s ownership. [Further,] [t]hroughout the Brinkmanns’ discussions with the Town, no one communicated to the Brinkmanns any interest in placing a park on the property. No one mentioned such an interest during the meeting with the Civic Association, in communications with the Town Building Department, or when the Town required the Brinkmanns to pay $30,000 for the Market and Municipal Impact Study.”).

(4) The Town became interested in acquiring the Brinkmanns’ empty lot only after the court allowed the Brinkmanns to proceed with their claim against the Town’s moratorium;216Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, supra note 10, at 18–19 (“On June 22, 2020, the trial court in the Brinkmanns’ state court lawsuit denied the Town’s motion to dismiss, allowing their challenge to the moratorium to proceed . . . In September 2020, the Town authorized the acquisition of the Brinkmanns’ [p]roperty via eminent domain . . . . ”).

(5) The Town never hired any professionals to evaluate whether the Brinkmanns’ property was suitable for a park;217Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 231 (Menashi, J., dissenting) (Judge Menashi highlighting how the Town “had not retained any outside consultants to evaluate the [Brinkmanns’] property as a location for a new public park.”).

(6) The “projected . . . benefits” of a passive use park were and remain de minimis and “trivial.”218Kelo v. City of New London, 545 U.S. 469, 493 (2005) (Kennedy, J., concurring).

Now, the Town could argue that because a park is an established public use, it was allowed to take the Brinkmanns’ land, given that there is a presumptive benefit to the public.219Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 212 (“There can be no dispute that a public park, even an unimproved one, is a public use. Public parks have been recognized as a ‘public use’ for more than a century.”). This line of argumentation should not be allowed (just as it is not allowed in the second element of this test) because that would make this test regress back into rational basis review. Furthermore, because this test largely centers around the risk of ill motive, the condemnees (like the Brinkmanns) should not be required to establish actual ill motive. All they would be required to show is an elevated or substantial risk of bad faith conduct. So for purposes of this last element, it should be sufficient for the Brinkmanns to demonstrate that there is a heightened risk that the municipality’s taking is not justified; this can be achieved via a showing of 1-6, or some robust combination thereof.

C.  So What About the Equal Protection Clause?

The Brinkmann majority cited the Equal Protection Clause as an example of a hypothetical potential avenue available to those afflicted by governmental takings instead of the Takings Clause.220Id. at 217 (“Of course, courts may intercede if an exercise of eminent domain runs afoul of some other constitutional or statutory . . . provision which does permit an examination of motives, such as . . . the Equal Protection Clause.”). But the Equal Protection Clause is a trap because it largely falters at the level of rational basis review, despite the existence of two other standards for Equal Protection Clause analysis (intermediate scrutiny and strict scrutiny). Under rational basis review, most condemnees will simply never meet the burden of proving that there is an absence of any legitimate municipal interest in condemnation. A cheap park or an empty playing field will satisfy that legitimate municipal interest just fine, or so rational basis review will typically find.

  1. The Three-Tier Framework

The Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment states that no state shall “deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”221U.S. Const. amend. XIV, § 1. When someone wants to argue that their equal protection rights were violated (in the context of challenging eminent domain takings), they are required to initiate suit under 42 U.S.C. § 1983.222Josh Blackman, Equal Protection from Eminent Domain: Protecting the Home of Olech’s Class of One, 55 Loy. U. Chi. L.J. 697, 713 (2009). To prevail on a § 1983 claim, the condemnee must successfully demonstrate two elements: (1) that their federal right was violated (that is, their right to “equal protection under the law as guaranteed by the Fourteenth Amendment”) and (2) the defendant “who violated [their] right did so under the color of state law.”223Id. The defendant who is alleged to have violated the condemnee’s equal protection rights can be a person or entity “who effectuated the condemnation proceeding.”224Id. Thus, “local governing bodies” and “local officials” can be sued under § 1983 when their alleged unconstitutional action essentially violated the condemnee’s equal protection rights.225Monell v. Dept. of Soc. Servs., 436 U.S. 658, 660 (1978).

 Equal protection jurisprudence is analyzed under three tiers: strict scrutiny, intermediate scrutiny, and rational basis scrutiny.226Blackman, supra note 231, at 709. Rational basis review is the “default standard” and is the “lowest level of judicial scrutiny.”227Susannah W. Pollvogt, Unconstitutional Animus, 81 Fordham L. Rev. 887, 896 (2013). Under rational basis review, the burden would be on the condemnee to show the absence of any legitimate municipal interest served by the condemnation.228Id. (“Under [rational basis review], the burden is on the plaintiff to prove the absence of any legitimate governmental interest served by the law.”). An overwhelming majority of equal protection cases are assessed under this very deferential standard.229Id. at 897. This means that plaintiffs overwhelmingly lose under rational basis review.230Id. at 898. In fact, the “number of rational basis cases in which plaintiffs have prevailed is so small that these cases have become an object of study in and of themselves.”231Id. For example, between 1971 and 1996, the Supreme Court “considered one hundred ten rational basis equal protection cases” and “of these cases the plaintiffs won only ten times,” rendering a nine percent success rate.232Blackman, supra note 231, at 716. The Brinkmanns, for instance, would never prevail under this standard: A park is a recognized public use and even a park that is devoid of any facilities could rationally be said to benefit Town residents. The Town residents could still hold picnics there or let their kids run around. So, under rational basis review, the Town would be viewed as having had some conceivable or possible interest in condemning the Brinkmanns’ land.233Id. at 710–11 (Rational basis review standard is “supremely deferential to the legislature, as courts employing this method almost always uphold actions as long as some possible, conceivable basis can justify it.”).

As to strict scrutiny, courts may depart from rational basis review in two instances: (1) when there is either a suspect or quasi-suspect classification or (2) a fundamental right at issue.234Pollvogt, supra note 236, at 895–96. A fundamental right at issue could trigger both a due process and an equal protection claim. See, e.g., Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644 (2015). These two are jurisprudential rabbit holes and thus beyond the scope of this Note, but the following are deemed examples of suspect classifications (thereby triggering strict scrutiny): race and national origin.235Pollvogt, supra note 236, at 895; Blackman, supra note 231, at 709. Please note that this is a non-exhaustive list of suspect classifications on the federal level. Further, some states such as California, recognize many other suspect classifications under the state constitution specifically. Age, disability, and economic disadvantage—among many others—do not qualify as suspect classifications and would only be subject to rational basis review.236See Henry Rose, The Poor as a Suspect Class Under the Equal Protection Clause: An Open Constitutional Question, 34 Nova L. Rev. 407 (2010). In the takings context, the “suspicion” comes from the very fact that a government or municipality may have relied on one of these classifications when making the condemnation decision (in the takings context).237Pollvogt, supra note 236, at 895. Such reliance would indicate “prejudice or antipathy toward the named group rather than a basis for sound [decision].”238Id.

A fundamental right, on the other hand, has a much more confusing roadmap, or lack thereof: despite the fact that strict scrutiny “presupposes” so-called fundamental rights, the strict scrutiny formula gives absolutely “no guidance concerning how the identification [of rights violations] should occur.”239Richard H. Fallon, Jr., Strict Judicial Scrutiny, 54 UCLA L. Rev. 1267, 1321 (2007). Some of the recognized fundamental rights are the right to vote,240Dunn v. Blumstein, 405 U.S. 330 (1972). the right to have children,241Skinner v. Oklahoma ex rel. Williamson, 316 U.S. 535 (1942). and the right to travel interstate.242Shapiro v. Thompson, 394 U.S. 618 (1969).

Categories of suspect class and fundamental right are now considered to be “seemingly closed,” making strict scrutiny, therefore, “virtually inaccessible” unless there is an already recognized suspect classification or a fundamental right at play.243Pollvogt, supra note 236, at 898. The Supreme Court has not “conferred suspect status on any [new] group since the 1970s,” even for “groups widely acknowledged to have suffered invidious treatment.”244Blackman, supra note 231, at 710.

And the Brinkmanns, along with most other condemnees, would most likely not even make it to strict scrutiny analysis under the Equal Protection Clause in the first place. For instance, in Brinkmann, there was no alleged or potential suspect classification. And a property right is not a fundamental right in the eyes of substantive due process.

If a governmental action imposes a facially neutral classification (i.e., the law does not, on its face, single anyone out in particular, thereby implicating no suspect classification), condemnees could still argue that:

(1) The governmental action has a disparate impact (i.e., disadvantages a certain group of people) AND

(2) The governmental action was taken purposefully to harm this particular group of people (e.g., on the basis of race).

Although this would be an alternate pathway to strict scrutiny, most condemnees’ claims will likely fail prong #2’s discriminatory intent test and be given the short shrift of rational basis review instead.245William D. Araiza, Flunking the Class-of-One/Failing Equal Protection, 55 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 435, 453–54 (2013). To demonstrate prong #2, condemnees (such as the Brinkmanns) would need to prove that a decision to condemn was because the government wanted to harm a certain group of people, not “in spite of” their decision to condemn having a disparate effect on a certain group of people.246Personnel Adm’r of Mass. v. Feeney, 442 U.S. 256, 279 (1979); see also Araiza, supra note 254, at 454. That is, the Brinkmanns would need to prove that the Town initiated this bad faith condemnation action precisely because of the Town’s intent to cause “adverse effects” upon the Brinkmanns as members of an “identifiable group” (assuming that the Brinkmanns had been members of an identifiable group).247Feeney, 442 U.S. at 279. Proving such discriminatory intent is widely acknowledged as being “exceptionally difficult” to do,248Pollvogt, supra note 236, at 897. and this is another reason why most claims are subject only to rational basis review.

  1. Doctrine of Unconstitutional Animus

This Note also acknowledges the doctrine of unconstitutional animus, which is based largely on the Equal Protection Clause.249Daniel O. Conkle, Animus and Its Alternatives: Constitutional Principle and Judicial Prudence, 48 Stetson L. Rev. 195, 195 (2019). At first glance, it presents an attractive solution: If a municipality’s condemnation is motivated by animus, why can’t the court just strike it down? Why is the Takings Clause even necessary? But unconstitutional animus has some glaring problems.

Unconstitutional animus is basically a loophole that allows an equal protection claimant to possibly prevail under rational basis review.250Pollvogt, supra note 236, at 889 (“Proving that a law is based on unconstitutional animus is virtually the only way an equal protection plaintiff can prevail under this deferential and increasingly common standard.”). While that would be good news for the Brinkmanns, the bad news is that it is, at best, unclear what constitutes forbidden animus.251Conkle, supra note 258, at 201 n.38. A law (or a decision to condemn, for instance) is animus-based if it is “based on nothing more than bias, hatred, or dislike.”252Id. at 204–05 (emphasis added). The Supreme Court has defined animus as “a bare . . . desire to harm” a person, which is a high burden to meet.253United States Dep’t of Agric. v. Moreno, 413 U.S. 528, 534 (1973) (emphasis added). For one, what if a condemnation is based on both animus and some animus-free “public-regarding objective”?254Conkle, supra note 258, at 202. For instance, in Brinkmann, both the Town residents and even the dissenting judge (pursuant to the Brinkmann majority’s snarky suggestion) could come to the park, “breathe its air” and

“spread [a] picnic.”255Brinkmann v. Town of Southold, 96 F.4th 209, 219 (2d Cir. 2024). A public park is, by definition, for the public to enjoy, and would thus constitute a public-regarding objective.

The definition of “animus” poses further issues. To illustrate, neither “religious belief[s]” nor “personal morality” are necessarily equated with animus.256Conkle, supra note 258, at 201. Take the 2015 Supreme Court decision, Obergefell v. Hodges, for instance.257See generally Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644 (2015). Although the Obergefell Court held that prohibiting same-sex couples from marrying violated both the Equal Protection Clause and substantive due process, the Court also noted that it declines to “disparage” those who “deem same-sex marriage to be wrong . . . based on decent and honorable religious or philosophical premises.”258Id. at 672. So when is it a decent and honorable religious belief and when is it animus-based homophobia?259Conkle, supra note 258, at 206. How does the court draw a consistent or predictable line between prejudice and a decent and honorable personal belief? This absence of a framework on how to arrive at a decision that something indeed constitutes animus is the reason that lower courts have been “wary of relying on animus” in the first place.260Dale Carpenter, Windsor Products: Equal Protection from Animus, 2013 Sup. Ct. Rev. 183, 184 (2013).

Further, this doctrine necessitates an inquiry into subjective motivations of those officials who decided to condemn property. This takes us back to one of the Brinkmann majority’s concerns: that motivational inquiry is an “exercise as fraught with conceptual and practical difficulties.”261Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 213. And the Brinkmann majority, in the context of unconstitutional animus, would not be wrong because the unconstitutional animus doctrine has been criticized as “analytically empty, a conclusion clothed in argument.”262Carpenter, supra note 269, at 185. The unconstitutional animus doctrine largely sits on a famously shaky foundation of just four cases (the so-called “animus quadrilogy”).263Id. at 183. Some scholars even argue that three of these cases “could and should have relied instead on [the traditional] equal protection doctrine for suspect and quasi-suspect classifications,” thereby expanding the suspect and quasi-suspect classifications.264Conkle, supra note 258, at 207. The unconstitutional animus doctrine is simply not as robust as the Takings Clause or the three tiers of scrutiny under the Equal Protection Clause. In contrast to the doctrine of unconstitutional animus, various bad-faith takings frameworks (all directly arising from the interpretation of the “public use” language in the Takings Clause) were already employed by the Ninth Circuit in Southern Pacific and Scott Lumber, the Seventh Circuit in 58.16 Acres of Land, and even the Connecticut Supreme Court in New England Estates. Although future jurisprudential analysis may well be able to rely on a vigorous animus framework, the current lack of such a framework, along with its high bar for success, makes animus analysis a suboptimal solution.265This Note also acknowledges the presence of another potential solution: the class-of-one theory. The class-of-one theory essentially stands for the proposition that in the takings context, a condemnee can bring an equal protection claim, “alleging discrimination against [them] in [their] capacity as an individual.” Araiza, supra note 254, at 438. These claims are “hard to win,” partly because the class-of-one theory has a “disheartening” judicial record. Id. at 438–41. The whole theory essentially rests on the shoulders of two cases: the Supreme Court’s “short per curiam opinion,” Village of Willowbrook v. Olech, 528 U.S. 562 (2000), and Engquist v. Oregon Dept. of Agriculture, 553 U.S. 591 (2008) where the Court declined to extend the class-of-one theory to the public employment context. Id. at 444. These two cases caused “extensive confusion in the lower courts” because it left “many matters unresolved,” including creating confusion as to how prevail on such a claim in the first place. Id. at 441; Blackman, supra note 231, at 727. Further, under this theory, a condemnee would still need to prove the “intent” element (similar to strict scrutiny under the traditional three-tier Equal Protection Clause framework) and show that a municipality (such as the Town of Southold) “singled out” the condemnee “because of” the condemnee’s “identity,” not merely “in spite of.” Araiza, supra note 254, at 455. This is, arguably, a high burden to meet. There is a great deal of debate fostering much scholarship concerning this theory, but it is largely beyond the scope of this Note.

D.  Brinkmann Implications

At its core, Brinkmann is more than just bad law. It is actually dangerous because it incentivizes governmental entities to lie when condemning someone’s land, which in turn denies basic accountability to the public. Under Brinkmann, any bad-faith taking can receive judicial blessing if the government or a municipality simply utters words like “passive use park” or “playing field.” Discrimination can be sanitized in this manner. Likewise, racism and outright hostility. In Brinkmann, the Town stated at oral argument that, under the Brinkmann majority’s interpretation of public use, it would be perfectly acceptable for the Town to “seize the homes of disfavored minorities out of animus toward those minorities and a desire to drive them out,” just so long as the Town “said it would build parks where the minorities’ homes once stood.”266Brinkmann, 96 F.4th at 233 (Menashi, J., dissenting). Frighteningly, the Town’s analysis is not incorrect under the Brinkmann rule. Even scarier is that this is now the law in the Second Circuit, and this is what the Second Circuit has authorized condemnors to do.

Law has real world consequences. For instance, Kelo expanded the concept of public purpose to “encompass any economically beneficial goal, guarantee[ing] that these losses [of property] will fall disproportionately on poor communities.”267Kelo v. City of New London, 545 U.S. 469, 521 (2005) (Thomas, J., dissenting). Kelo gave a green light to “large corporations and development firms” to “victimize” people who are “less likely to put their lands to the highest . . . social use.”268Id. at 521–22. Kelo essentially “affirmed that a government may take the private property of one party and give it to another private party if the other pays more taxes.”269Hafetz, supra note 86, at 3101. It did not take long to confirm that Kelo “engendered fear across the nation”:270Id. at 3095–96. in the year immediately after Kelo was decided, the Institute for Justice “found that 5783 properties ha[d] been [either] threatened or condemned for private commercial development, roughly equal to the number of such condemnations in the five years preceding Kelo.”271Id. at 3105. Scholars also found that this Kelo-authorized “private involvement in the exercise of eminent domain” increased the risk of corruption and threat of relocation.272Id.

Berman serves as another notable example. Over 97% of the people “forcibly removed from their homes”273Kelo, 545 U.S. at 522 (Thomas, J., dissenting). were Black—all for the declared sake of “public safety, public health, morality, peace and quiet, law and order.”274Berman v. Parker, 348 U.S. 26, 32 (1954). Post-Berman, “public works projects [of the] 1950s and 1960s destroyed predominantly minority communities in St. Paul, Minnesota, and Baltimore, Maryland.”275Kelo, 545 U.S. at 522 (Thomas, J., dissenting). And in 1981, “urban planners in Detroit, Michigan, [used eminent domain to] uproot[] the largely ‘lower-income and elderly’ Poletown neighborhood for the benefit of the General Motors Corporation.”276Id.

So, what will Brinkmann’s impact be? While it is uncertain to what extent it will inform the actions of governmental entities, the impact will certainly not be a societal positive. Instead, it will continue its catastrophic trajectory because Brinkmann encourages, and even rewards, municipalities to lie about their intentions behind condemnation decisions.

  CONCLUSION

Sometimes there are more questions than answers, but sometimes asking good questions is better than any answer—an endeavor that is by necessity limited in scope and applicability. And perhaps, this is the case here. The Brinkmann decision raises a lot of questions, ranging from the Brinkmann majority’s disregard of their own Goldstein precedent to a likely misinterpretation of Kelo, which cost the Brinkmanns their lot.

But Brinkmann also sparks an important conversation concerning what could and should be employed instead of the Brinkmann rule. After examining decisions rendered by the Connecticut Supreme Court and the Seventh and Ninth Circuits, all of which stand in opposition (in varying degrees) to Brinkmann, this Note envisions an alternative to the Brinkmann rule via the tripartite burden-shifting standard. But that is not all. This Note also demonstrates the failings of rational basis review, the Equal Protection Clause, and the animus doctrine when applied to addressing bad-faith takings.

The Takings Clause can destroy lives, but it can also build and improve the society in which those same lives exist. Similarly, the Takings Clause can also preserve freedom and even “empower[]” people “to shape and to plan their own destiny in a world in which governments are always eager to do so for them.”277Murr v. Wisconsin, 582 U.S. 383, 394 (2017). It is all a matter of perspective, but also—and critically—cultivating good law.

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 405

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*Articles Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 99; J.D. Candidate 2026, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. English 2022, University of California, Los Angeles. Thank you to Professor Jacob Charles, Professor Jonathan Barnett, Lance Entrekin, and the wonderful Southern California Law Review staff for their thoughtful comments. Thank you also to my family for their continued love and support.

Respecting Listeners’ Autonomy: The Right to be Left Alone

Introduction

The core of First Amendment free speech doctrine concerns the right of speakers to convey the message of their choice, free of repression or retaliation by the government. In addition, a small but significant body of law also addresses the rights of listeners to obtain access to information and speech in the face of coercive state measures seeking to deprive them of that access. Finally, there is also a well-established “compelled speech doctrine,” which addresses the right of speakers to resist government compulsions to speak—i.e., a right not to speak. This paper considers a question heretofore largely ignored by the courts, which is whether the First Amendment also protects a right against compelled listening.

As it turns out, a right against compelled listening raises complex and difficult questions because such a putative right in fact has two possible aspects to it. The first would be a First Amendment right not to listen that operates against the state, restricting the state’s power to force an unwilling listener to hear the state’s chosen message. Such a right must exist if public discourse among citizens is to play its democracy-empowering role (and also must exist under autonomy-based theories of free speech, for obvious reasons). But it is also, as we shall see, necessarily and distinctly limited.

But the more interesting questions raised by a right against compelled listening concern not disputes between listeners and the state, which are the subject of the classic First Amendment tradition, but rather disputes between non-state speakers and listeners, which the state must somehow accommodate or resolve. In these situations, in short, the question is whether the state may or may not enforce a listener’s desire to be left alone. Furthermore, while disputes strictly between private speakers and listeners of course do not themselves trigger the First Amendment because of the state action doctrine, when the state steps in to resolve those disputes, the First Amendment is very much implicated. This paper’s ultimate goal is to identify the state’s proper and constitutional role in those situations.

Part I briefly summarizes the classic First Amendment rights of speakers to speak and listeners to listen as against state coercion. It then examines the constitutional relationship between speakers, listeners, and their rights. Part II considers whether, just as the right to speak has been interpreted to generate a right not to speak, so too a right to listen should have the converse—a right not to listen. It further explores the two possible aspects of such a “right” described above,1I place the word “right” in quotations because, as we shall see, as against private speakers what is at stake is not technically a constitutional right, but rather a constitutionally relevant interest. and closes by considering the role of the state in the face of speaker versus listener disputes. Finally, Part III considers some doctrinal applications of a listener’s right to be left alone.

I. The Classic First Amendment

In this Part, we will very briefly consider the nature of “classic” First Amendment rights to speak and to listen, as against state coercion. We will then explore the relationship between those rights.

A. Speakers’ Rights and Listeners’ Rights

It is conventional wisdom that First Amendment law focuses almost exclusively on speakers and their “right” to speak, free from state interference. Even those of us who embrace instrumental justifications for protecting free speech, such as advancing democratic self-governance, nonetheless tend to fixate on speakers’ interests in contributing to public discourse when we analyze First Amendment conflicts. Indeed, the bulk of First Amendment doctrine, including the concept of unprotected categories of speech2See, e.g., Chaplinsky v. New Hampshire, 315 U.S. 568, 572 (1942) (defining “fighting words”); Roth v. United States, 354 U.S. 476, 486 (1957) (holding that obscenity is not protected speech); Brandenburg v. Ohio, 395 U.S. 444, 447 (1969) (establishing the incitement standard); New York v. Ferber, 458 U.S. 747, 763 (1982) (prohibiting child pornography). and the foundational distinction between content-based and content-neutral laws,3Reed v. Town of Gilbert, 576 U.S. 155, 163–64 (2015). all concern government suppression of speech or speakers (often, but not always, speech or speakers the state dislikes).

One further point about the right to speak that should be a given: the right to free speech under the First Amendment must incorporate a right to generally choose one’s audience (though, of course, like any other right, this right is not absolute and might be outweighed by a sufficiently strong governmental interest). The right to choose an audience is implicit in the Court’s standard test to evaluate content-neutral “time, place, or manner” regulations, which requires inter alia that any regulation “leave open ample alternative channels of communication.”4Ward v. Rock Against Racism, 491 U.S. 781, 791 (1989) (quoting Clark v. Cmty. for Creative Non-Violence, 468 U.S. 288, 293 (1984)). If such “ample alternative channels” referred to the ability to speak to any audience, the test would have no teeth at all—and that is not the case, as illustrated by numerous cases.5City of Ladue v. Gilleo, 512 U.S. 43, 58–59 (1994); McCullen v. Coakley, 573 U.S. 464, 490–91 (2014); see also Martin v. City of Struthers, 319 U.S. 141, 146–47 (1943). Furthermore, in the leading case dealing with expressive conduct, a topic closely related to content-neutral restrictions on speech, the second Justice Harlan also went out of his way to state that he would not uphold a regulation of conduct with an “incidental” impact on expression if the law “in practice has the effect of entirely preventing a ‘speaker’ from reaching a significant audience with whom he could not otherwise lawfully communicate.”6United States v. O’Brien, 391 U.S. 367, 388–89 (1968) (Harlan, J., concurring).

Admittedly, the courts have not been entirely consistent on this issue. Thus, there are undoubtedly some cases, especially in the lower courts, suggesting that denying a speaker the ability to reach a specific audience need not be fatal to a content-neutral restriction on speech.7Interstate Outdoor Advert., L.P. v. Zoning Bd. of Mount Laurel, 706 F.3d 527, 535 (3d Cir. 2013) (upholding content-neutral restriction on non-commercial billboards, stating that “the mere fact that Interstate will not be able to reach the distinct audience of travelers on the particular section of I-295 that it desires to target does not mean that adequate alternative channels of communication do not exist”). But this simply cannot be correct. For example, this would mean that during the 2024 presidential election, a prohibition on the Trump or Harris campaign advertising in a swing state such as Pennsylvania would be permissible if both candidates were permitted to reach alternative audiences in California and Texas. Such a result would make a mockery of the First Amendment (and democracy).

In addition to a right to speak, there is a well-developed body of doctrine protecting the right of listeners to access speech the state wishes to shield them from. The foundational case here is Lamont v. Postmaster General of the United States.8Lamont v. Postmaster Gen., 381 U.S. 301 (1965). In Lamont, the Court unanimously struck down a federal statute that required the Post Office to block the delivery of material determined to be “communist political propaganda” and only deliver the materials on the written request of the recipient (interestingly, Lamont was the first case in which the Supreme Court invalidated a federal statute on First Amendment grounds).9Id. at 302–04; Xiangnong (George) Wang, Listeners’ Rights in the Time of Propaganda: The Story of Lamont v. Postmaster General, Knight First Amend. Inst. Colum. Univ. (Feb. 14, 2025), https://knightcolumbia.org/content/listeners-rights-in-the-time-of-propaganda-the-story-of-lamont-v-postmaster-general [https://perma.cc/48MF-JSJN]. Crucially, for our purposes, the basis of this holding was not the right of foreigners to mail communist propaganda into the United States, which almost certainly does not exist,10Agency for Int’l Dev. v. All. for Open Soc’y Int’l, 140 S. Ct. 2082, 2089 (2020). but rather the First Amendment rights of addressees to receive information without impediment11Lamont, 381 U.S. at 307.—a point Justice Brennan made explicit in his concurrence.12Id. at 307–08 (Brennan, J., concurring).

If Lamont marks the origin of listeners’ right in the Supreme Court, their apotheosis occurred a little over a decade later, in Virginia State Board of Pharmacy v. Virginia Citizens Consumer Council, Inc.13Va. State Bd. of Pharmacy v. Va. Citizens Consumer Council, Inc., 425 U.S. 748, 773 (1976) [hereinafter Virginia Pharmacy]. There, prescription drug consumers challenged a Virginia ethical rule that barred pharmacists from advertising prescription drug prices.14      Id. at 753. Because no pharmacist joined the lawsuit, the Court could only hear the merits if it recognized a First Amendment right on the part of listeners to receive information—which it explicitly did before holding for the first time that the First Amendment protected commercial speech.15Id. at 756–57

Finally, one additional case in which listeners’ rights were importantly implicated, though not central to the decision, is Red Lion Broadcasting Co. v. Federal Communications Commission.16Red Lion Broad. Co. v. FCC, 395 U.S. 367 (1969). In Red Lion, the Supreme Court upheld the “Fairness Doctrine,” which was a federal regulation requiring radio and television broadcasters who broadcast a “personal attack” on an individual or group to provide airtime to the subject of the attack to respond.17Id. In doing so, the Court emphasized that in the context of broadcasting, because of the “scarcity” of available broadcast frequencies, speakers’ rights could not be the focus of attention.18Id. Instead, the Court said, “it is the right of the viewers and listeners, not the right of broadcasters, which is paramount” in assessing First Amendment challenges to broadcast regulations.19Id. at 390. So, like Lamont before it and Virginia Pharmacy after it, the Red Lion Court appeared to grant constitutional status to the First Amendment interests of listeners. Indeed, Red Lion was cited in Virginia Pharmacy for that proposition.20Virginia Pharmacy, 425 U.S. at 757.

B. Of Speakers and Listeners

The Supreme Court has thus recognized robust First Amendment rights for speakers and listeners, but it has largely treated them as distinct rights—no doubt because in the two key listeners’ rights cases, Lamont and Virginia Pharmacy, willing speakers were absent from the litigation. But this approach cannot be correct. After all, what exactly is the point of “speaking” if no one is listening?21When I use words like “speak” here, I am referring to all forms of communication, including oral speech, writing, video, electronic communications, picketing, marching, etc. And concomitantly, the word “listener” is meant to encompass actual listeners, readers, viewers, and generally all audiences for expression. To shove all of this into “freedom of speech” is of course historical and textual nonsense, for which mea culpa. But at least in this regard I can say that I am following the (bad) lead of the Supreme Court. See, e.g., John Inazu, Liberty’s Refuge: The Forgotten Freedom of Assembly 61–63 (Yale Univ. Press 2012) (noting the disappearance of the Assembly Clause in the Supreme Court’s modern jurisprudence); Sonja R. West, Awakening the Press Clause, 58 UCLA L. Rev. 1025, 1027–28 (2011) (same regarding Press Clause); Ronald J. Krotoszynski, Jr., Reclaiming the Petition Clause: Seditious Libel, “Offensive” Protest, and the Right to Petition the Government for a Redress of Grievances 10–11, 17–19, 157–62 (2012) (same regarding Petition Clause). It is true that some people keep private diaries or talk to themselves aloud—what is called “intrapersonal communication.”22See e.g., Intrapersonal Communication: Different Voices, Different Minds (Donna R. Vocate ed., 1994) (collecting works from various authors on the subject of intrapersonal communication); Paul N. Campbell, Language as Intrapersonal and Poetic Process, 2 Phil. & Rhetoric 200, 204–05 (1969); Patrick Jemmer, Intrapersonal Communication: The Hidden Language, 9 J. Clinical Hypnosis 37, 38 (2009). But there are reasons to doubt whether such audience-less “expression” falls within the First Amendment;23Ashutosh Bhagwat, When Speech Is Not “Speech”, 78 Ohio St. L.J. 839, 854–55 (2017). and in any event, it is certainly not the focus of most First Amendment jurisprudence or disputes. Normally, speech is meaningful, whether viewed from an instrumental or autonomy standpoint, if it has an audience. Admittedly, that audience need not be immediate or identifiable to the “speaker”; after all, we still read Shakespeare and Dickens. But reaching an audience is the point of communication. This is why in the area of expressive conduct, the Supreme Court has explicitly said that conduct is expressive—and so potentially protected by the First Amendment—only when “the likelihood was great that the message [intended to be communicated] would be understood by those who viewed it.”24Texas v. Johnson, 491 U.S. 397, 404 (1989) (quoting Spence v. Washington, 418 U.S. 405, 410–11 (1974)).

Of course, in emphasizing the existence of listeners as necessary for speech to be meaningful, I am in some sense preaching to the choir here, since this symposium specifically focuses on listeners. But I would suggest that focusing on listeners in isolation is also a bit myopic, in the same way as a singular focus on speakers. Because just as speaking without an audience is meaningless, so too is listening without a speaker. What does it mean to speak about “listeners” and “listeners’ rights” while ignoring who the listener is listening to—who, in short, the speaker is? Yet in the few contexts in which the Supreme Court has actually considered listeners’ interests in First Amendment cases, that is largely what it has done.

Consider in this regard Virginia Pharmacy. The Court’s holding in that case that the First Amendment protects recipients of speech/information rather than just speakers, is now well-accepted; but in the context of that case, it is a bit odd. In recognizing the rights of recipients of information, the Court added a caveat that such rights exist “where a speaker exists, as is the case here,” citing to one page in the Stipulated Facts to support this assertion.25Virginia Pharmacy, 425 U.S. at 756, 756 n.14. But given that pharmacists had not chosen to join this lawsuit and in fact had obvious, anticompetitive reasons to avoid advertising prices so long as their competitors did the same, the Court’s assumption that willing speakers already existed seems unjustified. Admittedly, once the advertising ban was struck down, it was likely that some pharmacists would choose to advertise drug prices, but whether that would benefit any individual plaintiff/listener was far from clear absent widespread advertising of drug prices.

The Court did somewhat better in analyzing the relationship between speakers and listeners in Red Lion. Unlike in Virginia Pharmacy, there is little doubt that Red Lion involved willing speakers—in the shape of the broadcasters themselves (the plaintiff in the case was, in fact, a broadcaster26Red Lion Broad. Co. v. FCC, 395 U.S. 367, 371 (1969). )—who would communicate to listeners/viewers. But by failing to seriously analyze both listeners’ and speakers’ interests and incentives in assessing free speech issues, the Red Lion Court created a conundrum. The Fairness Doctrine may have, in theory, advanced broadcast audiences’ interest in receiving balanced coverage of public issues, but it also incentivized broadcasters to avoid taking strong editorial positions on public issues other than anodyne centrist ones. Moreover, it disincentivized coverage of public issues in favor of generic entertainment, in order to avoid the strictures of the Fairness Doctrine.27See Ashutosh Bhagwat, The New Gatekeepers?: Social Media and the “Search for Truth”, 3 J. Free Speech L. 41, 47 (2023); Newton N. Minow, Speech to National Association of Broadcasters, Washington, D.C.: Television and the Public Interest (May 9, 1961) (1961 speech by F.C.C. Chair describing television as “a vast wasteland”), https://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/newtonminow.htm [https://perma.cc/QQM5-9PP7]. But faced with this argument, the Court simply (and rather naively) deferred to the FCC’s views that the “possibility [of any such incentive effect] is at best speculative.”28Red Lion, 395 U.S. at 393. Yet less than two decades later the FCC itself, in the course of repealing the Fairness Doctrine, concluded that the doctrine did in fact create substantial “chilling effects” because “the fairness doctrine provides broadcasters with a powerful incentive not to air controversial issue programming.”29In re Complaint of Syracuse Peace Council Against Television Station WTVH Syracuse, New York, FCC 87-266, 2 FCC Rcd. 5043, 5049–50 (1987). Of course if this was true—as is likely—then without speakers, listeners during the Fairness Doctrine era were necessarily left (so to speak) in the dark regarding public policy controversies. So again, by failing to seriously analyze both sides of the communicative relationship, the Court effectively harmed both speakers and listeners.

The point of this discussion is not to suggest that listeners/audience members lack meaningful First Amendment interests—of course they do. It is merely to suggest that discussing listeners’ interests and “rights” without also considering who the relevant speakers might be produces a deeply incomplete, and sometimes meaningless analysis. Expression, in short, is not a solitary activity on either side of the speaker/listener coin. It is a joint activity, a form of interpersonal interaction or association between speakers and audiences. It is relational in nature. The First Amendment, after all, does not protect “the right to speak” or “the right to listen;” it protects “the freedom of speech.”30U.S. Const. amend. I. By focusing on individual “rights,” however, whether of speakers or listeners, courts and commentators have failed to recognize the relational nature of that freedom.

II. A “Right” Not to Listen

Until now, we have generally considered the nature of First Amendment speakers’ and listeners’ rights and their interrelationship with each other. We will now apply those insights to considering what exactly it is that the First Amendment protects vis-à-vis listeners, focusing in particular on a putative right to not listen to unwanted speech.

In considering this issue, it is important to bear in mind a structural point. Most First Amendment law addresses the relationship between speakers or listeners on the one hand, and the state on the other. The question in those cases is what limits there are on the state’s right to coerce speakers or listeners. That is where our discussion will begin, by examining rights not to speak, and not to listen, as against the state. But for reasons already discussed, “the freedom of speech” also implicates another key relationship: that between speakers and listeners. Important and difficult First Amendment questions arise about the nature of and limits on the state’s power to regulate that relationship. These are the topics of Parts II.B and II.C.

A. Converse Rights: Speakers and Listeners v. The State

As we have seen, the First Amendment famously protects the right of speakers to express the message of their choice, free from state interference. But the Court has also interpreted the First Amendment to protect a converse right—to not be compelled to speak against one’s will.31For a careful, theoretical consideration of such converse rights, see generally Joseph Blocher, Rights To and Not To, 100 Cal. L. Rev. 761 (2012). The right against compelled speech was first recognized in the Supreme Court’s famous decision in West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette,32W. Va. State Bd. of Educ. v. Barnette, 319 U.S. 624 (1943). in which the Court struck down a requirement that public school students participate in a flag salute that was challenged by school children whose beliefs as Jehovah’s Witnesses forbade them from participating. Barnette thus established that the positive First Amendment right to speak was paired with a negative right not to speak.

While the right against compelled speech was originally a relatively narrow and circumscribed right, in recent years, the Supreme Court has expanded its scope significantly. For example, in the 2018 case National Institute of Family and Life Advocates v. Becerra (“NIFLA”), the Court invoked the right to strike down a California statute that required so-called “crisis pregnancy centers”—medically licensed facilities run by abortion opponents who provide medical services to pregnant women—to post notices informing patients that the State of California provided funding for low- or no-cost abortions (and other family planning services) to eligible women.33Nat’l Inst. of Family and Life Advocs. v. Becerra, 585 U.S. 755 (2018) [hereinafter NIFLA]. While the NIFLA case raised many complex issues, such as whether “professional speech” received lesser First Amendment protection,34Id. at 766–68. the core holding was that the required notice violated the First Amendment.35Id. at 773–75. Importantly, in NIFLA, the majority blurred the distinction between the positive right to speak and the negative right against compelled speech, by holding that “compelling individuals to speak a particular message . . . ‘alte[rs] the content of [their] speech.’ ”36Id. at 766 (quoting Riley v. Nat’l Fed’n of the Blind of N.C., Inc., 487 U.S. 781, 795 (1988)). As such, the Court suggested that in future compelled speech cases it would apply strict scrutiny, the test it uses for content-based restrictions on speech—something the Court had not done with any consistency prior to NIFLA.37Admittedly, the Court had equated compelled speech with speech suppression occasionally, notably in the Riley case quoted in NIFLA, but Riley’s throw away comment was based on a citation to a case, Mia. Herald Publ’g Co. v. Tornillo, 418 U.S. 241, 256 (1974), which did in fact involve a direct restriction on speech, because the “right of reply” statute struck down in that case was triggered by a newspaper’s publication of any story attacking “the personal character or official record” of any candidate for public office. Id. at 244; see also id. at 256 (“The Florida statute exacts a penalty on the basis of the content of a newspaper.”).

Another even more striking example of the extension of the compelled speech doctrine is 303 Creative LLC v. Elenis.38303 Creative LLC v. Elenis, 600 U.S. 570 (2023). In that case, the Court held that a wedding website designer could refuse to work for same-sex couples, in violation of state antidiscrimination law, because to force her to do so would “compel speech [the designer] does not wish to provide.”39Id. at 588. Thus, even in a situation in which a person is engaging in a commercial enterprise and providing services for payment, the Court has found that the compelled speech doctrine provides robust protections.

Of course, even in the current era, the right against compelled speech is not absolute. Most notably, the Court has indicated that in the context of commercial transactions, the First Amendment does not prohibit requiring “the disclosure of ‘purely factual and uncontroversial information about the terms under which . . . the services will be available.’ ”40NIFLA, 585 U.S. at 768 (quoting Zauderer v. Off. of Disciplinary Couns. of the Sup. Ct. of Ohio, 471 U.S. 626, 651 (1985)). As to whether going forward the Court will continue to recognize such limits on the compelled speech doctrine, see generally Alan Chen, Compelled Speech and the Regulatory State, 97 Ind. L.J. 881 (2022). More broadly, the Court has said that “health and safety warnings long considered permissible” remain constitutional41NIFLA, 585 U.S. at 775. and that the speech of professionals may be regulated as an incidental aspect of regulating professional conduct.42Id. at 769–70. In these contexts, current doctrine recognizes that listener interests can sometimes trump a speaker’s interest against compelled speech. But in the realm of ideological and cultural speech, the Court’s rule against compelling expression has come to be well-nigh absolute.

Given the robustness of the modern right against compelled speech, should the First Amendment also be understood to protect a robust right not to listen? Given the general symmetry between speaker and listener rights and their interlinked, relational nature, the answer would seem to be yes. Once the relational nature of “freedom of speech” is recognized, there is no logical reason to grant speakers greater rights than listeners; they are, after all, engaged on equal terms in a joint project—though, to my knowledge, the Court has never addressed the issue.

Moreover, not recognizing a right not to listen would have catastrophic implications for both autonomy-based and instrumental understandings of the purpose of free speech protections. The autonomy point is obvious—it is hard to imagine a greater intrusion on autonomy than forcing an individual to listen to speech they wished to avoid. But the implications for instrumental, democracy-based models of free speech are equally obvious. After all, if an incumbent government party or official can force voters to listen to the party’s propaganda but not their opponents’ propaganda, it is hard to imagine how any subsequent political election could be deemed fair or legitimate. More fundamentally, the shape and content of the public discourse essential for democracy must be under the control of the public, not the government, if popular sovereignty is to have any meaning.

It should be noted, though, that in practice, a right not to listen as against the state, while it must be real and robust in certain spheres—notably public discourse—has significant limits. The government in fact forces us to listen to messages of its choosing all the time as a condition of engaging in certain activities—often while also compelling the relevant speech. Every time one gets on a plane, one is forced to listen to a federally mandated safety announcement (and airlines are required to communicate them). Employees are forced to suffer through state-mandated trainings, such as sexual harassment trainings, all the time (and employers are required to provide them). My own employer, the University of California—a state entity—is particularly training-happy. Safety instructions are required for employees in many hazardous industries—and so on ad infinitum. But within the core First Amendment domains such as public discourse and artistic/literary expression, a very strong right not to listen—which can be offset only by the weightiest state interests—must exist. The only reason it has not been recognized, it would seem, is that governments appear to assume the existence of such a core right and so stay clear of it.

B. Relational Rights: Speakers v. Listeners

While a right not to listen as against the state seems clearly justified by basic First Amendment principles, much harder questions arise when we consider the nature of a right to be left alone in the context of the relationship between speakers and listeners. If individuals have a right not to listen to a message the state seeks to foist on them, what about a message that a private speaker wishes to force them to absorb?

  1. Four Scenarios

To understand the nature of the relationship between speakers and listeners, it is worth considering four different scenarios. In the first, both speaker and listener are willing, and wish to communicate. That is the core of First Amendment law, in which the only question is state power to coerce—when coercing either speaker or listener necessarily coerces the other. A second scenario is when neither speaker nor listener is willing or desirous of communicating. In that situation, state interference would be fairly bizarre, except under specific regulatory circumstances, such as safety videos on airlines or workplace trainings, both situations in which neither the speaker nor listener has a choice not to participate. Indeed, the fact that we sometimes compel both speech and listening is a further indication of how speaker and listener interests are intertwined.43Thanks to Joseph Blocher for this insight.

The difficult question arises when speakers and listeners disagree. When a listener wishes to hear a message but a speaker does not wish to speak, the compelled speech doctrine, when applicable, prevents the government from intervening on behalf of listeners. Of course, the compelled speech doctrine does not always protect speakers. As noted earlier, within the commercial sphere, disclosure requirements are ubiquitous and intended to protect listeners—presumably McDonald’s doesn’t really want to tell customers how many calories are in a Big Mac, no matter how much the customers need or want to know. But in the sphere of political and cultural speech, the speaker’s wishes will generally prevail given the strength of the modern compelled speech doctrine.44For an argument that the Court has gone too far in this area in privileging speakers against listeners, see Toni M. Massaro & Helen Norton, Free Speech and Democracy: A Primer for Twenty-First Century Reforms, 54 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 1631, 1663–67 (2021). Nor of course can listeners engage in self-help, since physically forcing another to engage in expression is generally tortious and/or criminal conduct.

But what about the opposite situation, when a speaker wishes to speak, but their chosen audience does not want to hear their message? In that situation, does the listener have a comparable ability not to listen, as the speaker does not to speak? Note that unlike forcing someone to speak, addressing words at an unwilling listener is not inherently illegal or tortious, so speakers can—and often do—engage in “self-help” in those circumstances by foisting unwanted speech on listeners. The question is: what is the appropriate role of the government, and in particular, can the state protect listeners from unwanted speech? Oddly enough, the Supreme Court has barely addressed this question directly, and insofar as it has done so, it has suggested that the answer is no by giving little weight to listeners’ interests.45I say “interests,” not “rights,” because under the state action doctrine, listeners cannot have First Amendment rights against non-state speakers.

The most significant case to this effect is Cohen v. California.46Cohen v. California, 403 U.S. 15 (1971). In Cohen the Court, in a famously eloquent opinion by Justice Harlan, reversed Cohen’s conviction for wearing a jacket into a courthouse with the words “Fuck the Draft” written on it.47            Id. at 16, 26. The case is generally understood to hold that non-obscene but offensive or indecent speech is protected by the First Amendment. But in the course of so holding, the Court had to address the objection that Cohen had “thrust [his speech] upon unwilling or unsuspecting viewers” and that the government had the right to shield that audience from offense.48Id. at 15. The Court’s response was that absent an “intrusion in to the privacy of the home,” the only remedy for offended viewers was “averting their eyes.”49Id. at 21. The Court failed, it should be noted, to explore how that remedy would work with respect to oral speech.50Id.

A more recent decision involving highly offensive speech, Snyder v. Phelps,51Snyder v. Phelps, 562 U.S. 443 (2011). adopts a similar tone. In Snyder, members of a church (the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kansas) repeatedly protested at military funerals to publicize their belief that God was punishing the United States for its tolerance of homosexuality, especially in the military.52Id. at 448. After one such protest, the father of the fallen soldier whose funeral the church picketed sued the church and its members for intentional infliction of emotional distress and after trial, won a significant verdict.53Id. at 450. But the Supreme Court, by an 8-1 vote, reversed. It held that because the protesters’ speech was “on a matter of public concern,” the First Amendment flatly precluded imposing liability based on the offensiveness or hurtfulness of the speech.54Id. at 458. And crucially for our purposes, when confronted with an argument based on the enormous (and uncontested) emotional harm that the protesters’ choices imposed on the father, the Court responded as follows: “But Westboro conducted its picketing peacefully on matters of public concern at a public place adjacent to a public street. Such space occupies a ‘special position in terms of First Amendment protection.’ ”55Id. at 456 (quoting United States v. Grace, 461 U.S. 171, 180 (1983)). In other words, the Court’s view was that at least in the public forum, the rights of offensive speakers almost always trump those of offended listeners. Nor are Cohen and Snyder alone in holding that at least in public places, offended audiences must bear the significant burdens and costs of offense.56See, e.g., Erznoznik v. City of Jacksonville, 422 U.S. 205, 210–11 (1975).

The only nod the Court has given towards the notion that audience members have some interest in avoiding unwanted speech can be found in the so-called “captive audience” doctrine. In theory, the captive audience doctrine provides that when speech is being forced upon listeners who cannot reasonably avoid it, the government may step in and silence the speech.57For a good, recent summary of the doctrine, see generally R. George Wright, The Captive Audience Doctrine Today 20 Duke J. Const. L. & Pub. Pol’y 1 (2025). And famously, in 1974 in the Lehman v. City of Shaker Heights decision, the Court—albeit in a splintered opinion—applied that doctrine to uphold a municipal regulation that refused to accept political advertising in the interior of buses and street cars, even though other advertising was accepted.58Lehman v. City of Shaker Heights, 418 U.S. 298, 302 (1974) (plurality opinion); id. at 307–08 (Douglas, J., concurring). But in fact, a closer look shows that since 1974, the so-called “captive audience” doctrine is more bark than bite.

It is true that in a handful of cases, the Court has invoked concepts of captive audiences to uphold restrictions on speech. Thus in Rowan v. United States Post Office Department, the Court cited the captive audience doctrine in upholding a law that permitted mail recipients to refuse to accept more mail from a particular sender.59Rowan v. U.S. Post Off. Dep’t, 397 U.S. 728, 738 (1970). Similarly, in F.C.C. v. Pacifica Foundation, the Court justified a restriction on daytime broadcasts of “indecent” materials in part on the theory, citing Rowan, that broadcasting invades the home.60FCC v. Pacifica Found., 438 U.S. 726, 748–49 (1978). And perhaps most famously, in Frisby v. Schultz, the Court upheld a municipal prohibition on targeted, residential picketing on the basis of the state’s strong interest (citing both Rowan and Pacifica Foundation) in shielding individuals from unwanted speech in their homes.61Frisby v. Schultz, 487 U.S. 474, 484–85 (1988). However, all of those cases involve the home, where special privacy considerations (quite aside from the First Amendment) obviously exist. Outside of the home, Lehman remains the only significant precedent applying concepts of “captive audiences,” and truth be told under the modern (post-1974) public forum doctrine, concepts of captive audiences are likely unnecessary to uphold the City of Shaker Heights’s subject-matter-based, but viewpoint-neutral, restriction on speech in a nonpublic or limited public forum.62Minn. Voters All. v. Mansky, 585 U.S. 1, 12–13 (2018).

The Court’s decision in Snyder also supports the proposition that the captive audience doctrine has, in recent years, been limited to the home. When the plaintiff in Snyder raised a captive-audience argument in favor of restricting the Westboro Baptist Church’s funeral protests, the Court dismissed the idea that a father might be a captive audience at his son’s funeral by invoking Cohen’s holding that the burden was on Mr. Snyder to “avert[] his eyes.”63Snyder v. Phelps, 562 U.S. 443, 459–60 (2011) (quoting Erznoznik v. City of Jacksonville, 422 U.S. 205, 210–11 (1975)). When posed with a captive-audience argument, the Snyder Court strongly suggested that that doctrine was largely restricted to speech intruding into the home, citing Rowan and Frisby.64Id. It is true that in its discussion the Court also referred to the fact that when driving to the funeral, Snyder could only see the tops of Westboro’s signs;65Id. at 460. Snyder saw the content of the signs later that evening on television. Id. at 449. but, there is no indication in the Court’s opinion that the result would have been different if Snyder had seen the signs, so long as the Westboro demonstration did not actively interfere with or disrupt the funeral.

Why is it that a Court that is so ready to recognize a robust right not to speak—one that operates against the state and listeners—seems to be unaware of the possibility of a similar right not to listen (at least outside the listener’s home) as against insistent speakers? The answer, I would posit, lies in the much-neglected interaction between speakers’ and listeners’ rights. In particular, recognizing a right not to listen raises the problem of how to reconcile a speaker’s interest in reaching a particular audience, with a listener’s interest in not being part of that audience. Moreover, the leading scholarly discussion of a putative right not to listen similarly adopts a unilateral rather than a relational approach.66Caroline Mala Corbin, The First Amendment Right Against Compelled Listening, 89 B.U. L. Rev. 939 (2009). In that article, Caroline Mala Corbin makes a compelling case, based both on the autonomy interests of listeners,67Id. at 982–93. and on more instrumental concerns about democratic self-governance,68Id. at 993–96. for a First Amendment right not to listen, and I am happy in this article to accept and build upon that analysis. But she does not address the implications of such a right for the corresponding rights of speakers, or the relationship between what she treats as independent rights of speakers and listeners. We will therefore turn to that issue next.

  1. A Right to Be Left Alone

In evaluating the nature of a right not to listen as against speakers, the crucial initial insight is that when a listener positively objects to being exposed to the speaker’s message, a conflict arises between a speaker’s right to choose her audience, and a listener’s right to choose her speakers/messages. In that situation, the Supreme Court, in cases such as Cohen and Snyder, seems to assume that unless the speaker and speech are intruding into the home, a speaker’s interest in expounding her message to any and all must prevail over a listener’s desire to not listen, and to be left alone. But the Court gives no explanation in any of these cases for why this is so, other than generalized references to the need for robust public discourse. And because the Court has never addressed, much less recognized, a right not to listen outside the home, it does not seem to realize that the situation potentially poses a problem of competing constitutional interests, not just a speaker’s right prevailing over general societal interests. But in fact, for all the reasons already stated there are strong reasons to recognize constitutionally grounded listeners’ interests in such contexts, which makes some effort towards reconciliation necessary.

In seeking to reconcile speakers’ and listeners’ rights when they potentially conflict, it is absolutely essential to recognize the deeply interrelated nature of those rights—something the Court has failed to do. As discussed earlier, speakers and listeners are just two sides of the same expressive coin; indeed, it might be said that there are not two rights at issue here, but rather one joint right to engage in/receive expression. But as in so many other situations, when joint rights holders—or for that matter, joint property owners—disagree, resolving such conflicts is extremely difficult.

Nonetheless, recognizing the joint roles of speakers and listeners in expression does lead to some important insights. Most importantly, recognizing the relational nature of freedom of speech strongly suggests that there is little to no social value associated with speakers who address specific listeners against their will. But even here, an important distinction must be made. When unpopular or even deeply offensive ideas are expounded as a part of what I will call “one-to-many” speech, which is to say speech that is available to the public or significant portions of it,69I thank Eugene Volokh for coming up with this nomenclature. See generally Eugene Volokh, One-to-One Speech vs. One-to-Many Speech, Criminal Harassment Laws, and “Cyberstalking”, 107 Nw. U. L. Rev. 731 (2013). speakers’ rights must normally prevail over listeners’ rights.70For a similar argument, see James Grimmelmann, Listeners’ Choices, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 365, 386–87 (2019). The reason is that in that situation, permitting listeners to prevail would scrub public discourse of unpopular ideas, a result which is anathema to the First Amendment. Put differently, permitting individual listeners to invoke a right not to listen to shut down one-to-many speech would amount to an impermissible heckler’s veto.

The analysis is very different, however, when dealing with one-to-one or one-to-a few speech. When speakers address unwilling, individual listeners who have expressed their desire not to be spoken to, the primary goal of continued speech is often no longer to convince or to add to the putative “marketplace of ideas.” It is rather to inflict harm on the listener/victim. As such, it has no legitimate claim to First Amendment protection in light of the greatly diminished speaker interests and very strong listener interest in not listening. It is this principle that led the Court to uphold a ban on targeted, residential picketing in Frisby v. Schultz, while clarifying that a ban on non-targeted residential picketing would almost certainly be invalid.71Frisby v. Schultz, 487 U.S. 474 (1988). The Court seemed to be assuming, reasonably in my view, that targeted picketing was overwhelmingly likely to be one-to-one speech, while nontargeted picketing was one-to-many. Its error was to assume in Frisby and other captive audience cases that a listener’s interest in avoiding one-to-one speech is limited to the home.

The very idea that speakers have some sort of First Amendment right to thrust their speech on unwilling listeners is based on a rigid, “individual rights” based approach to First Amendment analysis, which does not sufficiently account for complexity. Once one recognizes the interpersonal and associational nature of communications as a joint enterprise between speaker and audience, it should be obvious that no speaker has a “right” to thrust their views on unwilling audience members any more than an individual has a right to insist on joining a First Amendment association in which they are not welcome.72Boy Scouts of Am. v. Dale, 530 U.S. 640 (2000). To posit such a right—as the Supreme Court appears to in cases like Cohen and Snyder—is to posit a personal right on the part of individuals to try to persuade or convert other individuals to the speakers’ beliefs against their will, not as a part of public debate and discourse, but as a part of a personal conversation.

But where could such a right possibly arise from? If, as I have posited, the “freedom of speech” protected by the First Amendment is an interpersonal, relational concept, then the right surely does not arise from the First Amendment. After all, we do not understand any constitutional right to encompass an entitlement to coerce others—the Second Amendment may protect gun ownership,73District of Columbia v. Heller, 554 U.S. 570 (2008). but it does not protect the stick up. And it must be remembered that the First Amendment only protects speakers from censorship or silencing by the state, not from censorship by other private individuals.74Manhattan Cmty. Access Corp. v. Halleck, 587 U.S. 802, 808 (2019). Recognizing this seemingly mundane point, however, points a way towards how we might reconcile a posited right to be left alone with a speaker’s right to their chosen audience, all the while bearing in mind important First Amendment limits on state power.

C. Reconciliation: The State as Referee

What then, is the role of the government when a speaker seeks out a specific audience, but that audience is not willing to listen? And in particular, because (as noted earlier) listeners have a limited ability to engage in self-help (at least outside the home) vis-à-vis a persistent speaker, is there a role for the government in empowering unwilling listeners?

In that regard, one conclusion follows easily from basic First Amendment principles. Because “above all else, the First Amendment means that the government has no power to restrict expression because of its message, its ideas, its subject matter, or its content,”75Police Dep’t. of Chi. v. Mosley, 408 U.S. 92, 95 (1972). it is clear that the government may not itself decide, purportedly on behalf of unwilling listeners, that speech of a specific content or viewpoint will be unwelcome. That role lies solely with the listeners themselves, and for the government to take on the role of proxy censor could very easily become a vehicle for censoring speech the government itself disfavors. Indeed, even when empirically it seems very likely that a targeted audience will not want to be exposed to particular speech—for example, anti-abortion speech directed at abortion clinic patients, or anti-military protests directed at attendees at a military funeral—it remains true that the government’s role cannot be to silence the speech on the assumption that it will be unwelcome. This is why the rule against content discrimination remains in place, and should remain in place, even in particularly sensitive situations such as the home, reproductive health care facilities, and funerals.

That said, however, once one recognizes that speakers have no First Amendment right, free of government regulation, to foist themselves upon unwilling listeners—and indeed, that listeners do have legitimate interests in avoiding undesired speakers or content—it seems clear that the government has a legitimate role to act as facilitator, assisting listeners to invoke their “right” to be left alone—or perhaps better put, their desire not to engage in a communicative relationship with a particular speaker. For that reason, there should be no constitutional problem with the state creating mechanisms that enable listeners to communicate to speakers that they desire to be left alone. There should also be no First Amendment barrier, assuming the listener(s) do invoke their First Amendment interest in being left alone, to the government penalizing a speaker who nonetheless persists in pursuing their unwilling victims. In that situation, the speaker has no First Amendment rights at stake, so a penalty is perfectly constitutional.

To be clear, the government has no obligation to create such a mechanism. Since unwilling listeners have no First Amendment rights against private speakers, they have no constitutional claim to be left alone. But what should be recognized is that in the context of willing speakers and unwilling listeners, or vice versa, given the relational nature of the “freedom of speech,” neither party has a constitutional right at stake, and so some forms of government interventions should not be barred.

Putting this insight in doctrinal terms argues for the courts to recognize a separate category of unprotected speech that is based not on the unprotected content of the speech (as with obscenity, “true threats,” etc.), but on the fact that it is foisted (exclusively) upon unwilling listeners after they have invoked their desire not to listen. Whatever one calls this category—harassment, stalking, or something else—it would permit punishment by the state purely upon proof that the speaker was made aware of their audience’s desire not to listen but nonetheless continues to communicate.

Needless to say, however, for reasons already discussed, any mechanism designed to protect listeners’ desires to be left alone cannot be invoked in one-to-many speech situations, in which there are other, willing listeners in the broader audience who would be deprived of their access to speech. In this situation, “freedom of speech” does exist, and so silencing the speaker will violate both the speaker’s and the willing listeners’ First Amendment rights. And because the First Amendment presumptively favors speech over silence, it clearly cannot permit letting some unwilling listeners’ rights to trump two other sets of rights.76I leave aside the question of whether the mere possibility of the existence of a willing listener should trump an unwilling listener’s rights; my instinct is that that issue is too fact-dependent to be susceptible to abstract analysis. Note that with respect to speech occurring in open public dialogue, such as public protests or speech in the media (including social media platforms), there will essentially always be some willing listeners in the audience, and so recognizing a right to be left alone would never result in suppressing such speech. In other words, recognizing a constitutionally based interest in being left alone has little or no implications for broad, public debate. Importantly, this ensures that all individuals, even the most irascible, will regularly be exposed to viewpoints they reject, and so will have the opportunity to change their minds.

Note that under this view, Snyder v. Phelps was correctly decided. The speech in that case, a public protest by the Westboro Church was a form of one-to-many speech, not speech directed solely or mainly at the victim. Indeed, as noted earlier, the plaintiff in that case, the grieving father, did not even see the signs at the time of the protest.77Snyder v. Phelps, 562 U.S. 443, 449 (2011). In that situation, it was impermissible for the state to silence the speakers in order to protect Snyder’s desire to be left alone, because the result would be to silence protected speech as to other listeners. The Pacifica Foundation Court, however, was wrong to uphold the FCC’s restrictions on indecent broadcasting, at least insofar as it relied on the existence of unwilling listeners, because radio broadcasts are a classic form of one-to-many speech (whether protecting children might separately support the rule is a different matter).

Therefore, a right of listeners to be left alone should not impact public debate or cleanse it of unpopular or offensive ideas. In the context of privately communicated speech, however, the implications of the above analysis are significant. It means that individuals who insist on repetitively speaking to their chosen audience/victim(s) after the listener has invoked their right to be left alone have no First Amendment rights—and so can be prosecuted without raising constitutional concerns. It also means that in a myriad of other situations in which the Court has suggested that the burden must be on listeners to avert their eyes, move on to another place, or simply suffer, the state has a legitimate role to play in reducing that burden so long as it does not impact public debate.

Developing a specific legislative proposal for how state or federal laws might assist unwilling listeners in protecting their desire to be left alone is beyond the scope of this paper. It should be noted, however, that some such mechanisms already exist and have been endorsed by the courts—though they all, unsurprisingly, involve the home. Thus in Martin v. City of Struthers, the Court struck down a city ordinance banning the door-to-door distribution of literature, primarily on the grounds that the city could have achieved its goal of protecting tranquility in the home with narrower means such as a model ordinance that “would make it an offense for any person to ring the bell of a householder who has appropriately indicated that he is unwilling to be disturbed.”78Martin v. City of Struthers, 319 U.S. 141, 148 (1943). This approach was preferable, the Court said, because such a law “leaves the decision as to whether distributors of literature may lawfully call at a home where it belongs—with the homeowner himself,”79Id. which in the language of this essay means in the hands of the unwilling listener. The Court’s decision in Watchtower Bible and Tract Society of New York, Inc. v. Village of Stratton, recognizing a home “resident’s unquestioned right to refuse to engage in conversation with unwelcome visitors,”80Watchtower Bible and Tract Soc’y of N.Y., Inc. v. Village of Stratton, 536 U.S. 150, 168 (2002). is to similar effect. The ordinance upheld in Rowan81Rowan v. U.S. Post Off. Dept., 397 U.S. 728, 738 (1970). permitting mail recipients to refuse to receive additional mail from unwanted mailers is as well.82In Frisby v. Schultz, the residential picketing case discussed earlier, Justice Stevens dissented on the grounds that the ordinance banning residential picketing was overbroad because it covered picketing to which the residents did not object. Frisby v. Schultz, 487 U.S. 474, 497–99 (1988) (Stevens, J., dissenting). His point is a fair one and suggests that the statute at issue regulating residential picketing should have been triggered only when residents of the targeted home clearly communicated to the picketers their desire to be left alone.

It is true, of course, that it is much easier to put up an outdoor “No Solicitation” sign at one’s home—the remedy endorsed in Martin and Watchtower Bible—than in public places. But given the above analysis, there is no good reason to limit the principle established in these cases to the home. Moreover, it is not hard to imagine a law stating that when an individual is addressing another and the listener uses unambiguous language indicating an intent to be left alone, such as “please stop talking to me,” “I don’t want to hear this,” or “leave me alone,” the speaker then will have a legally enforceable obligation to stop speaking to that individual (but not to others, so in one-to-many situations this law would have no impact).

Some clarifications are necessary, however. First, at least outside of the home, invoking the right to be left alone cannot be indefinite—any statute protecting that right must specify a time period after which the invocation expires and has to be re-invoked.83Thanks to Christina Koningisor for this insight. That caveat, like the continuing protection for one-to-many speech, leaves open the possibility that unwilling listeners can and will sometimes change their minds. Further, the period after which invocation by unwilling listeners expires may well vary with circumstances—and again, any statute addressing this issue must specify that. And in this respect, homes are arguably special. No Solicitation signs outside one’s home constitute essentially permanent invocations—though signs can of course be taken down—as did the request to stop mail upheld in Rowan, though of course that too could be revoked. In some settings such as online interactions, one can imagine invocations lasting for weeks or months. But in personal interactions, it might well be reasonable to require reinvocations every hour or two. Details such as these are for legislatures to work out, the results of which should be due a good deal of deference from courts.

To be sure, in evaluating situations in which a speaker’s desire to communicate collides with their audience’s wishes not to be communicated to, and the state has stepped in to protect the listener, courts must tread with caution, bearing in mind the following considerations. First, it is inevitable that the government—in the shape of both legislatures and executive enforcers—will sometimes manufacture unwilling listeners as a tool to silence speech that the government itself objects to. Therefore, courts must examine any listeners’ rights laws carefully to smoke out such censorship (most obviously by insisting that the listener, not the state, identify unwanted speech). In addition, courts themselves must be cautious to not permit their own instincts as to what constitutes “undesirable” or “offensive” speech to color their decisions, by finding listener objections when none truly exists. Thus courts must insist that any enforcement of a listener’s right to be left alone must be accompanied by a clear and unambiguous invocation of that right by the rights-holder themselves.

In short, there are details to be worked out, and there are undoubtedly complexities raised by attempts to legally empower listeners to avoid unwanted speech, especially outside the home. But the crucial point is that there should be no First Amendment objection to government efforts to so empower listeners—with all the caveats laid out above, including in particular the point about one-to-many speech. There are statutory mechanisms available that could achieve those goals. Indeed, as the next Part discusses, some such mechanisms are already in place whose constitutionality has been questioned but should not be, albeit perhaps after some changes are made to reflect concerns discussed above.

III.  Applications

In this Part, we will consider some practical applications of listeners’ rights to be left alone in areas where divisive litigation has been common and courts have struggled mightily to craft consistent and facially plausible solutions.

A. Counterman, Stalking/Harassment, and Fighting Words

The most obvious area in which the above analysis has application is the status under the First Amendment of laws regulating harassment and stalking. The Supreme Court considered this issue in its recent decision in Counterman v. Colorado,84Counterman v. Colorado, 600 U.S. 66 (2023). but because the majority completely failed to consider listener interests in its analysis, and as a result failed to distinguish between “threats” cases (which involve the fear of violence) and harassment/stalking cases (which involve unwilling listeners), Justice Kagan’s majority opinion frankly botched the analysis.

Counterman involved a criminal prosecution arising out of a deeply disturbing set of facts. The defendant, Counterman, repeatedly sent Facebook messages to C.W., a local musician whom he had never met.85Id. at 70. Some were prosaic, if bizarre (since they were from a stranger), but others were menacing.86Id. Ultimately, Counterman was convicted under Colorado’s anti-stalking statute, the relevant part of which makes it a crime to “repeatedly . . . make any form of communication with another person” in “a manner that would cause a reasonable person to suffer serious emotional distress and does cause that person . . . to suffer serious emotional distress.”87Id. (quoting Colo. Rev. Stat. § 18-3-602(1)(c) (2022)). The Colorado courts rejected Counterman’s First Amendment defense on the grounds that his speech constituted unprotected “true threats,” applying an objective definition of a threat as speech which a reasonable person would view as threatening.88Id. at 71. The Supreme Court, however, reversed. In a majority opinion by Justice Kagan, the Court held that to prosecute a true threat, the First Amendment required proof of a subjective mental state, in particular recklessness, meaning that the speaker acted with conscious disregard of the risk that the speech at issue would instill fear in the victim.89Id. at 79–82.

What is truly odd about this analysis is that Counterman was not actually a case about threats at all; it was a case about unwanted speech. While some of Counterman’s messages may have been threatening, the harassment and stalking aspects of his awful behavior were not dependent on that—they would have existed even if all the messages were prosaic. The Colorado courts presumably applied the true threat doctrine because they reasonably believed that to uphold Counterman’s conviction, they had to pigeonhole it into a category of “unprotected speech” that the Supreme Court had previously recognized, and true threats is such a category.90Virginia v. Black, 538 U.S. 343, 359 (2003). Indeed, as Genevieve Lakier and Evelyn Douek explain, since the Supreme Court’s pathbreaking 2010 decision in United States v. Stevens sharply limiting the power of courts to recognize new categories of unprotected speech,91United States v. Stevens, 559 U.S. 460 (2010). lower courts have been able to uphold anti-stalking legislation only by characterizing the speech at issue as falling within an already recognized category of unprotected speech—generally either “speech integral to criminal conduct” or “true threats.”92Genevieve Lakier & Evelyn Douek, The First Amendment Problem of Stalking: Counterman, Stevens, and the Limits of History and Tradition, 113 Cal. L. Rev. 143, 148–49 (2025). Eugene Volokh similarly argues that under current law, lower courts cannot treat “harassment” as unprotected speech unless it falls within a category such as threats—a position that Justice Alito took in an opinion predating his elevation to the Supreme Court, which has been followed by numerous other jurisdictions.93Eugene Volokh, Overbroad Injunctions Against Speech (Especially in Libel and Harassment Cases), 45 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 147, 191–92 (2022) (citing Saxe v. State Coll. Area Sch. Dist., 240 F.3d 200, 204 (3d Cir. 2001)).

All of which is well and good—but it has no relevance to the Supreme Court itself, which of course does have authority to expand the realm of unprotected speech. Even if Stevens indicates that the Court will not recognize new categories of unprotected speech based on the content of the speech absent a historical tradition,94Stevens, 559 U.S. at 472. it certainly does not close the door to recognizing factors other than content that might take speech outside of First Amendment protections—such as its unwanted nature. The Supreme Court had an opportunity to recognize such a category in Counterman but failed to do so because it failed to distinguish harassment and stalking from threats.95Justice Sotomayor, joined by Justice Gorsuch, were the only members of the Court who seemed to recognize the difference between the stalking behavior in that case and the broader issue of “true threats” in public discourse addressed by the Court. Counterman v. Colorado, 600 U.S. 66, 85–86 (2023) (Sotomayor, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment). Yet even they did not take the logical step of simply dismissing Counterman’s First Amendment claims, but rather also ended up stuck in the morass of debating mens rea.

It is quite possible that the Court’s failure to consider harassment/stalking as a separate speech problem from threats was because that is how the parties to the litigation (and the lower courts) posed the issue. But by analyzing the case as it did, the Court has created a serious risk that moving forward, lower courts will treat harassment and stalking issues as co-extensive with the threats doctrine, thereby ignoring the implications of Rowan and the right to be left alone.96Cf. State v. Pierce, 887 A.2d 132, 133, 135 (N.H. 2005) (striking down a ban on “communicat[ing] with [a] person . . . with the purpose to annoy or alarm [such person], having been previously notified that the recipient does not desire further communication,” without citing Rowan). If the Court had analyzed the case properly, it would have recognized that because Counterman’s speech was unwanted, and because his victim had invoked her right to be left alone, as she did in that case by repeatedly blocking Counterman on social media,97Id. at 70. the existence of a threat was irrelevant. Counterman’s expression was a classic case of repeated infliction of unwanted speech in a one-to-one context, and so there should have been no barrier to his prosecution under a properly drafted statute—though it is unclear whether the actual Colorado statute in that case satisfied those standards.

Nor are the implications of paying attention to listeners’ interests limited to stalking. Most obviously, laws designed to enable listeners to enforce their right to be left alone, such as the Federal Trade Commission’s Do Not Call Registry, are clearly constitutional on this view.98National Do Not Call Registry, Fed. Trade Comm’n, https://www.donotcall.gov [https://perma.cc/KXG3-Y8SM]. Similarly, prohibitions on telephone or other harassment under which penalties are triggered when the victim communicates their desire to be left alone also pose no constitutional concerns.99Because my analysis is limited to instances in which a victim has invoked her right to be left alone, it does not address the problem of intentional harassment initiated before such an invocation, which many states also criminalize. Addressing that problem would require recognition of either a new category of unprotected speech or recognizing a power to regulate speech based on a combination of content and bad speaker motive, both topics beyond the scope of this paper. More generally, recognizing that speakers have no First Amendment interest in forcing speech onto unwilling listeners opens the door to a wide range of regulations addressing such things as email spam, spam texting, and even junk mail (following in the footsteps of Rowan).

Consider also harassment litigation arising out of campus protests regarding the Gaza war,100Kathryn Palmer, The Litigation After the Protest Storm, Inside Higher Ed (May 21, 2024), https://www.insidehighered.com/news/governance/executive-leadership/2024/05/21/litigation-after-protest-storm# [https://perma.cc/P7SJ-HCPT]. or complaints by members of Congress that by failing to control such protests campuses permitted harassment of Jewish students.101Jacey Fortin, 5 Takeaways From the Latest Hearing on Campus Antisemitism, N.Y. Times (May 23, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/23/us/college-antisemitism-hearing-protests.html [https://perma.cc/6GRC-A3B7]. Insofar as these harassment claims are rooted in one-to-one speech, such as following students around and yelling slurs or otherwise directing hostile speech at individual students who have demanded to be left alone, the First Amendment under the above analysis provides no protection to such speech. (Whether universities have a legal obligation to protect victims from such speech is, of course, a different matter.) On the other hand, to the extent that claims of harassment are rooted in slogans yelled during protests such as “From the River to the Sea,” which many people consider antisemitic, or the allegedly antisemitic content of signs, this is classic one-to-many speech which cannot be condemned purely because of its unwanted nature; indeed, at least with respect to public universities silencing such speech, it would almost certainly constitute viewpoint discrimination in violation of the First Amendment. The same would be true even regarding calls for genocide that Republican members of Congress such as Elise Stefanik complained about,102Annie Karni, Questioning University Presidents on Antisemitism, Stefanik Goes Viral, N.Y. Times (Dec. 7, 2023), https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/07/us/politics/elise-stefanik-antisemitism-congress.html [https://perma.cc/EST5-N6YW]. since such calls surely would not qualify as unprotected incitement under the stringent test of Brandenburg v. Ohio.103Brandenburg v. Ohio, 395 U.S. 444, 447 (1969). After all, for better or for worse, there is no “awful speech” exception to the First Amendment.

Finally, consider the “fighting words” doctrine. In its 1942 decision in Chaplinsky v. New Hampshire, the Court held that so-called “fighting words”—which is to say curse words or insults delivered in person—are not protected by the First Amendment.104Chaplinsky v. New Hampshire, 315 U.S. 568, 572 (1942). This holding is rooted in assumptions that fighting words are likely to trigger a violent response from their target, and that such a response would be justified.105Id. The fighting words doctrine has been subject to sharp criticism,106Kathleen M. Sullivan, Forward: The Justices of Rules and Standards, 106 Harv. L. Rev. 22, 42 (1992). but the Court has yet to abandon it. In truth, though, the assumptions underlying the doctrine seem seriously outdated, and are also highly gendered, based as they are on a “real men” ethos. Based on the reasoning of Chaplinsky alone, therefore, the doctrine probably should be overruled.

On the other hand, it seems likely that in most circumstances fighting words are going to be unwanted speech, from the listener’s perspective. Furthermore, the typical fighting words situation involves one-to-one speech (indeed, it is doubtful if the fighting words doctrine would apply to one-to-many speech).107Cf. Terminiello v. City of Chicago, 337 U.S. 1, 4 (1949) (raising, but declining to resolve, the issue). If, however, a target of fighting words expresses to the speaker a desire to be left alone, then any subsequent speech by that speaker would, under my approach, violate the right to be left alone, and so become unprotected. Admittedly, this approach to fighting words does not address the “first blow” of curse words spoken only once; but it does have the advantage of not resting on dubious assumptions.

B. Hill, McCullen, and Avoiding Offense

Another area in which conflicts between speakers and listeners regularly arise is in the context of protests and other expression near health care facilities that provide abortion services. The difficulty arises because on the one hand, the speech of protestors and others—whether pro- or con-abortion rights—is obviously speech on important, controversial, and politically charged topics, and so receives the highest level of First Amendment protection. But on the other hand, it seems reasonable to assume that most members of the audience for this speech—who are overwhelmingly employees or patients of the relevant clinics—would prefer not to hear the speech, sometimes strenuously so. Therefore, courts and legislatures struggle with how to address these conflicts.

While First Amendment cases involving speech near abortion clinics, even in the Supreme Court alone, are myriad, I will focus my discussion on two of the most important and controversial of them. The first is Hill v. Colorado.108Hill v. Colorado, 530 U.S. 703 (2000). Hill involved a challenge to a Colorado statute that limited speech within one hundred feet of the entrance to a healthcare facility.109Id. at 707. In particular, the law prohibited any person within that area from approaching within eight feet of another person without their consent “for the purpose of passing a leaflet or handbill to, displaying a sign to, or engaging in oral protest, education, or counseling with such other person.”110Id. (quoting Colo. Rev. Stat. § 18-9-122(3) (1999)). Characterizing the issue before it as whether this law “reflects an acceptable balance between the constitutionally protected rights of law-abiding speakers and the interests of unwilling listeners,”111Id. at 714. the Court ultimately upheld the statute. In doing so, the Court relied heavily upon the government’s interest in protecting an “unwilling listener’s interest in avoiding unwanted communication,” citing Frisby and Rowan.112Id. at 716–17.

Justice Scalia’s dissent took sharp issue with this reasoning. He argued that because the Colorado statute was based on the assumption that only speech within the statutory prohibition—“protest, counseling, and education”—was likely to be unwelcome, the law was content-based and so invalid.113Id. at 747–48 (Scalia, J., dissenting). At least as to this point, it should be noted, Justice Scalia’s argument is entirely consistent with my analysis set forth above (and concomitantly, the majority’s is not). The State may not decide for itself what speech is unwelcome, and insofar as Colorado did so, its law was invalid.

But Justice Scalia did not stop at this point. He went on to argue that any law targeting unwanted communications was automatically content-based, because the law was triggered by the communicative impact of the unwelcome communication. As such, he would have invalidated any such law.114Id. at 748 (Scalia, J., dissenting). But that goes a step too far, insofar as it suggests that speakers have a right to impose their speech on others when their audience has actively asserted a desire not to listen. In a later abortion case (discussed next), Justice Scalia suggested that his argument that the government had no legitimate interest in protecting people from unwanted speech was limited to restrictions on speech “in the public streets and sidewalks.”115McCullen v. Coakley, 573 U.S. 464, 505 (2014) (Scalia, J., concurring in the judgment). But again, Justice Scalia is off the mark. The key question is not where the speech occurs, but whether the speech is directed solely at unwilling listeners, as opposed to a broader audience (in other words, one-to-one versus one-to-many). Certainly, in many instances, including Snyder, it is reasonable to assume that speech in public places is directed at the public. But that assumption does not hold in the context of all anti-abortion protests, in which the speech is sometimes directed solely and directly at often-unwilling employees and patients. In Snyder, the Westboro Baptist Church sought out a broader audience for their protest by contacting the press and drawing attention to themselves; it is therefore doubtful if the protest would have proceeded if no one aside from funeral attendees had shown up (remember that the plaintiff in Snyder did not even see the speech at the time of the protest). But the same is very much not true of anti-abortion protests, which regularly occur without any broader public presence, and which are sometimes, though certainly not always, designed and intended to cause emotional harm to their “audience.”

Now consider the Court’s most recent, significant decision in this area, McCullen v. Coakley.116Id. at 464. There, the Court unanimously invalidated a thirty-five foot “buffer zone” that Massachusetts mandated around the entrances of abortion clinics, in which no one was allowed to enter or remain in, except for specific purposes such as simply walking through, people on clinic business, and law enforcement and other public functions.117Id. at 471. The Court, however, divided sharply on its reasoning. A five-Justice majority (with Chief Justice Roberts writing) found the law content-neutral but nonetheless concluded that it failed intermediate scrutiny.118Id. at 485, 497. The concurring Justices (led again by Justice Scalia) would have invalidated the law as a content-based restriction on speech.119Id. at 502–05 (Scalia, J., concurring in the judgment).

What is interesting for our purposes is that in the course of finding content-neutrality, even the majority conceded (without mentioning Hill, oddly) that if the Massachusetts law had been “concerned with undesirable effects that arise from ‘the direct impact of speech on its audience’ or ‘listeners’ reaction to speech,’ ” it would have been content-based.120Id. at 481 (quoting Boos v. Barry, 485 U.S. 312, 321 (1988)). And Justice Scalia in his concurring opinion of course agreed with this point (while lambasting the majority for not expressly overruling Hill).121Id. at 504–05 (Scalia, J., concurring in the judgment). The only issue on which the Justices disagreed was whether this was, in fact, the actual purpose of the Massachusetts law.

But unanimous or not, the Justices seem simply wrong on this point. Certainly, anti-abortion speakers have a right to make their case to the public, even if the ways in which they do so are distasteful or offensive. And certainly, the state has no interest in purging their speech from public debate, including in one-to-many speech in particular, simply because some members of the audience object to it. But to suggest that the state has no interest in protecting unwilling speakers at all is just wrong, in giving no weight to listener interests and failing to distinguish between public debate (meaning one-to-many speech) and private speech (meaning one-to-one speech).

In short, the bottom line is that insofar as the Colorado and Massachusetts laws in Hill and McCullen were based on the state’s assumption that anti-abortion speech is unwelcome, the Court was wrong to uphold the Colorado law and correct to invalidate the Massachusetts one. And the Justices are, to reiterate, also clearly correct that speech cannot be expunged from public debate simply because it might offend or discomfit some who hear it. But by going further and suggesting, as Justice Scalia did in Hill and all the Justices did in McCullen, that the state has no interest in enforcing listeners’ expressed preferences to be left alone, they are just wrong. The question of how a state might design a mechanism to enforce those expressed preferences has already been discussed; but for the purposes of this discussion the key point is that the Court appears in these cases to be conflating two entirely separate questions: the exclusion of offensive speech from public debate, which is impermissible, and the enforcement of listeners’ expressly invoked right to be left alone, which is not.

C. Regulating the Internet

In the summer of 2024, the Supreme Court issued an opinion in Moody v. NetChoice, LLC.122Moody v. NetChoice, LLC, 603 U.S. 707 (2024). The case involved challenges to two statutes, one enacted in Florida and the other in Texas, which both regulated the content moderation practices of social media platforms. In particular, the Florida law restricted the power of such platforms to moderate posts by “journalistic enterprise[s]” and posts by and about political candidates.123Id. at 720. The Texas law more broadly forbade platforms from moderating content based on the viewpoint expressed in a post or the viewpoint of the poster.124Id. at 721. Both laws also granted users certain procedural rights when their posts were moderated,125Id. at 720–21. but those aspects of the laws are less relevant to this article. The Supreme Court ultimately declined to resolve the claims because the plaintiffs had chosen to bring a facial, as opposed to as-applied, challenge, and both lower courts had failed to apply the proper standard for facial challenges.126Id. at 723–26. But in the course of providing instructions on remand, a solid majority of the Court made it clear that the First Amendment provided strong protections for platforms’ editorial choices in the form of content moderation.127Id. at 726–40. As such, the Court was quite clear that if platforms chose to bring as-applied challenges to the application of at least the Texas law to their moderated “feeds” or homepages, the challenges were very likely to succeed.128Id. at 740–43.

The majority’s reasoning in NetChoice was clearly correct as a First Amendment matter129Ashutosh Bhagwat, Do Platforms Have Editorial Rights?, 1 J. Free Speech L. 97 (2021). and is more than sufficient to sustain properly framed challenges to the Texas, and, truth be told, Florida, laws. But a focus on listener interests suggests that there is something more fundamentally problematic about Florida’s and Texas’s approaches to regulating platforms. The laws of both states are rooted in the basic assumption that legislators (and Governors) know best what content listeners/users should and should not be exposed to. But that assumption and approach are antithetical to First Amendment principles. It is for individuals, not the state, to decide what expressive interactions they wish to participate in.

A much better approach would be one proposed by a group of researchers at Stanford University, led by Francis Fukuyama, which seeks to introduce competition and choice in “middleware,” meaning the software that that performs editorial and content moderation functions on platforms.130Francis Fukuyama, Barak Richman, Ashish Goel, Roberta R. Katz, A. Douglas Melamed & Marietje Schaake, Report of the Working Group on Platform Scale 30–38 (Stanford Cyber Policy Center 2020), https://cyber.fsi.stanford.edu/publication/report-working-group-platform-scale [https://perma.cc/B29N-PUXQ]. Requiring platforms to permit users to pick their middleware of choice from a competitive menu of options empowers users/listeners to choose what speech to consume, and what not to consume, and so such a law would advance listeners’ rights. Of course, such a legal requirement would still burden platforms’ editorial rights, but in a less blatantly biased (and political) manner than Florida and Texas sought to do and so might be constitutionally defensible.131How a challenge to such a law should be resolved is beyond the scope of this paper.

Another area in which a listener-centric approach yields important insights is in regulations restricting targeted advertising. For example, Article 28(2) of the European Union’s Digital Services Act (“DSA”) prohibits platforms from delivering targeted advertising to users who are minors based on their personal data.132Regulation (EU) 2022/2065 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 19 October 2022 on a Single Market For Digital Services and amending Directive 2000/31/EC (Digital Services Act), Art. 28(2), https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2022/2065/oj/eng [https://perma.cc/GZF5-8ETT]. While the First Amendment of course does not apply to the EU, given the so-called “Brussels Effect,”133Anu Bradford, The Brussels Effect: How the European Union Rules the World (Oxford 2020). it would not come as a surprise if the United States or one or more states within the United States, including California, followed the EU’s lead in this regard.

But the EU’s approach is misguided. It assumes that targeted advertising directed at children is inherently harmful or invasive. But, in fact, for vulnerable groups such as LGBTQ youth, shielding them from targeted content can cause substantial harm.134See Bill Easley, Revising the Law That Lets Platforms Moderate Content Will Silence Marginalized Voices, Slate (Oct. 29, 2020), https://slate.com/technology/2020/10/section-230-marignalized-groups-speech.html [https://perma.cc/S94E-5W4X]. And more fundamentally, it is always better for the state to empower listeners, even minor listeners—who after all enjoy significant First Amendment rights to access information135Brown v. Ent. Merchants Ass’n, 564 U.S. 786, 795–96 (2011).—than to make choices for them as the DSA does. For that reason, if the United States or an individual state felt it necessary to restrict targeted advertising directed at minors, it would be much better to empower minors or their parents to opt out of all, or specific forms of, targeted advertising than to enact a flat ban as the DSA does. Admittedly, authorizing parents to restrict targeted advertising could also have deleterious effects on vulnerable youth (sometimes parents are the problem); but that is a difficulty that pervades our society and can only be addressed through broader legal reforms, particularly in family law.

Conclusion

This article argues in favor of recognizing listeners’ rights to, and interests in, not to listen/be left alone. Such a right/interest comes in two forms. The first is a First Amendment right against the state, which generally would prohibit the state from forcing ideological content on unwilling listeners, a proposal that hopefully is not controversial. More difficult is a potential listener interest in avoiding speech from private speakers. Such an interest does not directly implicate the First Amendment, given the lack of state action; but in this paper I argue that nonetheless, the interest is a genuine one rooted in principles of free speech, which should be recognized: a right, as it were, to be left alone. The key implication of recognizing such a right is that it suggests that the First Amendment should not be understood to protect private speech directed at an unwilling listener who has invoked their right to be left alone, at least in a one-to-one situation. This in turn means that the First Amendment does not prohibit the state from adopting measures designed to enable unwilling listeners to invoke and legally enforce their right to be left alone, though nor does it mandate such measures.

This is not to say that protecting the right not to listen, and the right to be left alone, do not raise concerns. For one thing, it will reduce the occasions in which individuals will be exposed to ideas they do not like, which might be to the detriment of the quality of public discourse.136Thanks to Erin Miller for this point. Furthermore, a right to be left alone that must be invoked to be effective might well be less useful to the disempowered in our society, who might therefore be harmed if the government is prevented from taking the initiative in shielding them from harmful speech.137Thanks to Nelson Tebbe for this insight. But all rights come with a cost; and on balance, this paper argues that recognizing and empowering listener autonomy is worth the cost.

Finally, it should be noted that the analysis above regarding a right to be left alone, and how it can be reconciled with a speaker’s right to an audience, can also be extended to the converse situation—when the right to listen conflicts with the right against compelled speech. Here, too, one faces a potential conflict between two First Amendment interests when a listener desires some information or message but the speaker does not want to share it (perhaps the situation in the Virginia Pharmacy litigation). In this situation, as noted earlier, normally the government cannot force speakers to communicate because of the compelled speech doctrine. But as with a right to be left alone, it may well be that the government has a legitimate role in facilitating voluntary relationships between willing speakers and listeners, and in incentivizing reluctant speakers on behalf of listeners. But that is another, and complicated, topic of inquiry.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1129

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* Distinguished Professor and Boochever and Bird Endowed Chair for the Study and Teaching of Freedom and Equality, UC Davis School of Law, contact: aabhagwat@ucdavis.edu. Thanks to Professor Erin Miller and the staff of the USC Law Review for organizing this event. Thanks also to Eugene Volokh for agreeing to serve as Discussant for this paper, and to Joseph Blocher, Alan Chen, and all the participants at the 2024 Southern California Law Review Symposium for providing extraordinarily valuable feedback.

Listening on Campus: Academic Freedom and Its Audiences

Introduction

Current debates about campus speech often conflate two related but importantly distinct values: free speech and academic freedom. Both are widely perceived to be in crisis,1Mary Anne Franks, The Miseducation of Free Speech, 105 Va. L. Rev. 218, 218 (2019) (“The claim that America’s campuses are in the midst of a free speech crisis has been made so often and so emphatically that it has widely become accepted as fact.”). See generally Thomas M. Keck, Academic Freedom and Democratic Backsliding in the Contemporary United States (Mar. 18, 2025) (unpublished manuscript), https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4914871 [https://perma.cc/L2VJ-9Z83] (describing rise in threats to academic freedom, especially since 2020). but they are not interchangeable, and slippage between the two makes it even harder to frame, let alone address, difficult questions about speech in university settings. Many of the most fundamental challenges—indeed, much of what makes campus speech unique in the first place—arise from the need to accommodate both values. In doing so, defenders of academic freedom must, as advocates of free speech have, more clearly articulate an account of listener interests. The basic project of this Article is to frame that challenge and take a few initial steps toward answering it.

The most prominent (and successful, at least if success is measured by legislative and popular action) critics of the campus speech climate are invoking a free speech paradigm. Their central complaint is that faculty, administrators, and students are selectively silencing speakers and ideas. The paradigmatic victims are often isolated conservative voices,2Keck, supra note 1 (manuscript at 9) (“The archetypical beneficiary of free speech in these statements is the lonely conservative dissenter from left-liberal campus orthodoxy.”). faculty and speakers attacked for things they write or say,3See, e.g., Deirdre Bardolf, Disturbing Audio Captures Anti-Racism Instructor Attacking Principal’s “White Supremacy” Before He Killed Himself, N.Y. Post (Aug. 5, 2023, 3:15 PM), https://nypost.com/2023/08/05/dei-teacher-mocked-principal-richard-bilkszto-who-later-killed-himself-audio [https://web.archive.org/web/20230806093617/https://nypost.com/2023/08/05/dei-teacher-mocked-principal-richard-bilkszto-who-later-killed-himself-audio]; Stuart Kyle Duncan, My Struggle Session at Stanford Law School, Wall St. J. (Mar. 17, 2023, 2:59 PM), https://www.wsj.com/articles/struggle-session-at-stanford-law-school-federalist-society-kyle-duncan-circuit-court-judge-steinbach-4f8da19e [https://web.archive.org/web/20250119074715/https://www.wsj.com/articles/struggle-session-at-stanford-law-school-federalist-society-kyle-duncan-circuit-court-judge-steinbach-4f8da19e]; Jon Sanders, On Prof. Mike Adams’ Suicide, One Year Later, Carolina J. (July 23, 2021), https://www.carolinajournal.com/opinion/on-prof-mike-adams-suicide-one-year-later [https://perma.cc/DQM3-DRDV]. and students who find themselves inhibited from speaking their minds on campus.4Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, 2025 College Free Speech Rankings 23 (2024), https://www.thefire.org/sites/default/files/2024/09/2025%20College%20Free%20Speech%20Rankings%20Report%20FINAL.pdf [https://perma.cc/5PD7-8G8R] (“Overall, students reported low levels of comfort expressing their views on controversial political topics across five different contexts on campus.”); id. at 25–27 (reporting higher levels of self-censorship among conservative students).

These critics have pushed for a range of purported remedies, including cutting funding for diversity, equity, and inclusion (“DEI”) programs; requiring intellectual diversity statements; weakening the protections of tenure and collective bargaining; forbidding the teaching of certain supposedly divisive concepts involving race, gender, and sexuality;5A recent joint report of the American Association of University Professors (“AAUP”) and American Federation of Teachers (“AFT”) identify these as the four primary themes in recent legislative actions. AAUP & AFT, The Right-Wing Attacks on Higher Education: An Analysis of the State Legislative Landscape 1, https://www.aaup.org/sites/default/files/Higher-Ed-Legislative-Landscape.pdf [https://perma.cc/F2HP-S772]. and ousting university leaders.6See A Look at College Presidents Who Have Resigned Under Pressure Over Their Handling of Gaza Protests, AP (Aug. 15, 2024, 2:02 PM), https://apnews.com/article/college-president-resign-shafik-magill-gay-59fe4e1ea31c92f6f180a33a02b336e3 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250112115803/https://apnews.com/article/college-president-resign-shafik-magill-gay-59fe4e1ea31c92f6f180a33a02b336e3]. Though framed as protections of free speech principles such as viewpoint neutrality, many of these efforts have the effect (and perhaps purpose) of restricting those very principles. In that sense, they invoke free speech but are not actually rooted in the free speech tradition.7Thanks to Ash Bhagwat for pressing me on this point. Sometimes the motivation seems to be nakedly punitive or political—a thumb in the eye of a liberal professoriate—or to make martyrs of provocateurs who have no business speaking in an academic setting to begin with.

But these critiques and purported reforms can also be understood in more principled terms as protecting listeners—most prominently the students and others who have an interest in hearing a range of ideas and speakers. Getting a handle on the campus speech debate therefore requires a clear account of listener interests, as this symposium invites. Doing so is especially important because many of the interventions flowing from the listener-based free speech critique are in tension with, and sometimes flagrantly undermine, the other essential element of campus speech: academic freedom. That freedom has many dimensions, each with its own value proposition: “freedom of research and publication, freedom in the classroom, freedom of intramural speech, and freedom of extramural speech.”8Matthew W. Finkin & Robert C. Post, For the Common Good: Principles of American Academic Freedom 7 (2009). For simplicity’s sake, I will call the expression associated with these freedoms “scholarly speech.”9Academic freedom often but not always directly involves expressive acts like publishing or teaching. But academic freedom is also a matter of universities’ institutional autonomy, which can be threatened by decisions that do not directly involve speech acts, such as hiring and firing faculty, establishing or de-establishing university centers, and so on. A listener-focused approach to academic freedom can help conceptualize the potential harms in those situations, which is the downstream impacts they have on scholarly speech—the production of knowledge and its dissemination to various audiences.

Such speech is governed not by the rules and principles governing public discourse (the free speech paradigm) but by the rules and principles of academic disciplinarity. In the words of the AAUP’s 1940 Statement of Principles on Academic Freedom and Tenure, which codified the principles and practices of academic freedom: “Institutions of higher education are conducted for the common good and not to further the interest of either the individual teacher or the institution as a whole. The common good depends upon the free search for truth and its free exposition.”10AAUP, 1940 Statement of Principles on Academic Freedom and Tenure with 1970 Interpretive Comments 14 [hereinafter 1940 Statement], https://www.aaup.org/file/1940%20Statement.pdf [https://perma.cc/M567-NJNZ] . The search for and exposition of truth in scholarly settings are subject to the academic judgment of peers, not the broadly permissive principles that prevail in the marketplace of ideas.

This does not mean that free speech and disagreement have no place on college campuses; to the contrary, they remain essential.11See, e.g., John Inazu, The Purpose (and Limits) of the University, 2018 Utah L. Rev. 943, 947 (arguing that “a central purpose, if not the central purpose, of the university is to be a place of facilitating disagreement across differences”). But in order to provide the essential benefits that are the core of their mission—the production and dissemination of knowledge12There are other defensible ways to understand the mission of a university, and they might point in different directions with regard to the balance between free speech and academic freedom. But I suspect that all would recognize in one way or another that the rules of public discourse cannot be fully imported to a university setting. —universities must be tightly governed by themselves, not by donors and legislatures, and the relevant standards of research, publication, and teaching must be disciplinary, not political.

In short, the current debate has turned campus speech against itself, in part by leveraging listeners’ free speech interests to undermine academic freedom. The free speech critique has a clear account of value and harm (one largely rooted in listener interests) and has the additional benefit of constitutional moorings that are more secure than those of academic freedom.13Henry Reichman, Understanding Academic Freedom 153 (2021) (arguing that academic freedom is more grounded in “common law tradition and contractual protections” than in the First Amendment). This is not to say, of course, that the constitutional case is entirely lacking. See generally David M. Rabban, Academic Freedom: From Professional Norm to First Amendment Right (2024) (arguing for academic freedom as a distinctive subset of First Amendment law). By invoking the importance of students’ exposure to a broad marketplace of ideas—a distinctly free speech-based frame—would-be reformers have justified a broad range of interference with universities’ self-governance. The tension between those principles has asymmetrically favored free speech both rhetorically and conceptually. Defenders of academic freedom must respond with an account of its value14Louis Menand, Academic Freedom Under Fire, New Yorker (Apr. 29, 2024), https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/05/06/academic-freedom-under-fire [https://perma.cc/SEF5-ZCS6] (“Academic freedom is an understanding, not a law. It can’t just be invoked. It has to be asserted and defended. That’s why it’s so disheartening that leaders of great universities appear reluctant to speak up for the rights of independent inquiry and free expression for which Americans have fought.”). The fact that academic freedom lacks the same legal foundation of free speech makes it, if anything, all the more important that it be defended. See also Jeannie Suk Gersen, Academic Freedom and Discrimination in a Polarizing Time, 59 Hous. L. Rev. 781, 781 (2022) (“[W]e desperately need explicit discussions about academic freedom.”). —as something that not only protects scholars-as-speakers but ultimately and more importantly serves “the common good,”151940 Statement, supra note 10 at 14. which can only happen if scholarly speech reaches the right audiences.

The goal of this Article is to suggest that academic freedom and the scholarly speech that it protects would benefit, as its critics have, by better articulating a listener-based account. Centering threats to scholarly speakers is consistent with standard doctrinal approaches to freedom of speech, and descriptions of individual professors and students facing repercussions for their speech may be rhetorically effective, just as stories of “cancelled” speakers have supported the free speech critique.16Greg Lukianoff & Rikki Schlott, The Canceling of the American Mind: Cancel Culture Undermines Trust and Threatens Us All—But There Is a Solution 10 (2023). But following First Amendment scholarship’s increasing exploration of listener interests in theory17T.M. Scanlon, Jr., Freedom of Expression and Categories of Expression, 40 U. Pitt. L. Rev. 519, 528 (1979) (“Although ‘freedom of expression’ seems to refer to a right of participants not to be prevented from expressing themselves, theoretical defenses of freedom of expression have been concerned chiefly with the interests of audiences and, to a lesser extent, those of bystanders.”). and in doctrine,18See, e.g., Toni M. Massaro & Helen Norton, Free Speech and Democracy: A Primer for Twenty-First Century Reformers, 54 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 1631, 1663 (2021) (“Contemporary courts increasingly favor speakers over listeners when speakers’ preferences collide with listeners’ First Amendment interests in settings both inside and outside of public discourse . . . .”); Burt Neuborne, Limiting the Right to Buy Silence: A Hearer-Centered Approach, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 411, 411 (2019) (“Under current Supreme Court doctrine, the speaker is far and away the most powerful resident in Mr. Madison’s First Amendment neighborhood.”).

That is not to say, however, that listener interests have gone entirely unrecognized in the Court’s First Amendment caselaw. See, e.g., Cent. Hudson Gas & Elec. Corp. v. Pub. Serv. Comm’n of N.Y., 447 U.S. 557, 562–66 (1980) (protecting commercial speech that furthers listeners’ First Amendment interests, while permitting the government to regulate false or misleading commercial speech because it frustrates those interests); Red Lion Broad. Co. v. FCC, 395 U.S. 367, 390 (1969) (“It is the right of the viewers and listeners, not the right of the broadcasters, which is paramount.”).
accounts of academic freedom can and must focus on the audiences of scholarly speech.

Part I illustrates how critics of the current campus speech climate are pitting the free speech and academic freedom paradigms against one another, in large part by leveraging listener interests—for example, by attempting to justify interference with university governance as necessary to protect the interests of students-as-listeners. This listener-based critique can and should be answered with a listener-based defense of academic freedom. Doing so is not only important as a matter of rhetorical strategy, but necessary for a full and accurate description of academic freedom’s value. Indeed, the very justification for academic freedom is less concerned with the interests of scholars-as-speakers than it is with their role in producing and spreading knowledge—an inevitably collective activity, and one whose contribution to the common good is broadly predicated on the presence and engagement of various listeners.

Part II explores the distinct interests of three such audiences: students, scholars, and the general public.19Keith E. Whittington, Speak Freely: Why Universities Must Defend Free Speech 15 (2018) (“The fruits of research are to be shared, with other scholars, with students, and with the general public.”). Each raises important issues and challenges. Emphasizing the rights of students-as-listeners may help ground their still-murky claims to academic freedom,20Robert Post, The Kalven Report, Institutional Neutrality, and Academic Freedom, in Revisiting the Kalven Report: The University’s Role in Social and Political Action (Keith E. Whittington & John Tomasi, eds., forthcoming) (last revised Aug. 19, 2023) (manuscript at 1, 1 n.1), https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4516235 [https://perma.cc/V5QS-L5Y3] (“In the United States, the academic freedom of students is a concept that has not received much in the way of intellectual or institutional development.”). See also Robert Post, Theorizing Student Expression: A Constitutional Account of Student Free Speech Rights, 76 Stan. L. Rev. 1643 (2024). even as it both confirms and confounds standard accounts of listener interests in the free speech paradigm. On the one hand, the freedom of teaching (one prong of academic freedom) is undeniably rooted in students’ interests as listeners. On the other hand, students-as-listeners—despite being an arguably captive audience, lacking power vis-à-vis their professors—do not have a broad right not to listen, as many First Amendment principles suggest. Moreover, their rights as listeners vary significantly depending on the setting: classrooms and other curricular settings, guest speakers and other extracurricular events, and their dorm rooms.

Faculty are the prototypical speakers in the academic freedom paradigm, but they are also important listeners; the communal nature of knowledge production through research and publication requires as much. Moreover, individual scholars must constantly re-evaluate their own positions in light of others’ work—what I have called elsewhere (in the context of free speech) the “virtue of persuadability,”21Joseph Blocher, “The Road I Can’t Help Travelling”: Holmes on Truth and Persuadability, 51 Seton Hall L. Rev. 105, 110 (2020). and what in the context of academic freedom essentially means holding oneself to disciplinary standards.

Finally, and perhaps most crucially, there are the listening interests of the general public. In the words of the AAUP, universities exercise a “public trust” which requires that they be immune to the “tyranny of public opinion,” allowing them to serve as “an intellectual experiment station, where new ideas may germinate and where their fruit, though still distasteful to the community as a whole, may be allowed to ripen until finally, perchance, it may become part of the accepted intellectual food of the nation or of the world.”22AAUP, 1915 Declaration of Principles on Academic Freedom and Academic Tenure 293, 297 [hereinafter 1915 Declaration], https://www.aaup.org/NR/rdonlyres/A6520A9D-0A9A-47B3-B550-C006B5B224E7/0/1915Declaration.pdf [https://perma.cc/C5E3-E23H]; Menand, supra note 14 (“Professors don’t work for politicians, they don’t work for trustees, and they don’t work for themselves. They work for the public. Their job is to produce scholarship and instruction that add to society’s store of knowledge. . . . In exchange, society allows them to insulate themselves—and to some extent their students—against external interference in their affairs. It builds them a tower.”). That trust will only hold so long as the listening public believes it is indeed receiving something of value. Against a backdrop of growing skepticism about the very notion of scholarly expertise and a troubling rise of public and private attacks on research and teaching, defenders of academic freedom must persuade the public that their work is indeed furthering the common good.

I. Using Listener Interests to Put Free Speech Ahead of Academic Freedom

At the heart of current controversies about expression in colleges and universities23I hold aside the important but distinct concerns involving K-12 education, where principles of academic freedom and free speech have very different valence. Even there, though, the Supreme Court has accorded some protection to students’ freedom to speak and listen. See, e.g., Tinker v. Des Moines Indep. Cmty. Sch. Dist., 393 U.S. 503, 506 (1969) (holding that neither teachers nor students “shed their constitutional rights to freedom of speech or expression at the schoolhouse gate”); Bd. of Educ., Island Trees Union Free Sch. Dist. No. 26 v. Pico, 457 U.S. 853, 870–71 (1982) (striking down “narrowly partisan or political” curation of libraries). are two related but importantly distinct forms of expression: free speech and academic freedom. Both have important roles to play in a university, and I will refer to them collectively as “campus speech.” But to understand or address the perceived crisis it is essential first to be clear about the overlap and distinction between them—and, crucially, the ways in which listener interests are being invoked to turn free speech against academic freedom.24Gersen, supra note 14, at 781 (“[T]hose who purport to champion academic freedom frequently end up attempting to restrict it.”); Keck, supra note 1 (manuscript at 14) (“One notable feature of these recent legislative threats to academic freedom is that their authors and advocates regularly defend them as efforts to protect free speech.”). Keck notes that FIRE, one of the most prominent organizations in the campus speech battles, in 2022 changed its name from the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education to the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression. Id. (manuscript at 11 n.19). Its director’s most recent co-authored book is focused on “higher education because that’s where Cancel Culture originated and runs most rampant.” Lukianoff & Schlott, supra note 16, at 10.

Many of the most serious concerns about the campus speech climate are about free speech as such. As Keith Whittington puts it in Speak Freely: Why Universities Must Defend Free Speech, “[f]ree speech on college campuses is perhaps under as great a threat today as it has been in quite some time.”25Whittington, supra note 19, at 4. The reasons for and manifestations of these apparent threats take various forms whose propriety in any particular situation might of course be debated: shouting down speakers, students and faculty posting on social media, requesting or demanding trigger warnings, withdrawing job offers for students or faculty based on their speech, and more. The underlying conception of freedom being threatened in this paradigm is roughly akin to the freedom of speech protected by the First Amendment in the public sphere: a broadly libertarian marketplace of ideas in which expression must be “uninhibited, robust, and wide-open.”26N.Y. Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254, 270 (1964).

The free speech paradigm and the familiar slate of First Amendment rules and principles accompanying it has an important role to play in many areas of university life. Most obviously and explicitly, many campuses have established various “free speech zones” in which students, faculty, and perhaps others can express themselves subject only to relatively narrow limitations for harassment, true threats, and the like. That same broad freedom might extend, whether declared or not, to other areas of a university campus such as open quads, streets, and other arguable analogues of public fora. Indeed, many universities claim to have broad or even absolute commitments to speech and are regularly evaluated or even ranked based on that basis.27See Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, supra note 4.

The free speech paradigm also plays an important role in the scholarly enterprise that is at the heart of the university. In Whittington’s words, “[f]or universities, . . . free speech is valuable precisely because of its utility in generating, testing, and communicating ideas.”28Whittington, supra note 19, at 30. This epistemological utility is only one of the values that free speech might serve in other contexts, like democratic participation or individual autonomy. Universities are not necessarily set up in opposition to values of democratic participation and individual autonomy, and indeed might well further them,29See Robert C. Post, Democracy, Expertise, and Academic Freedom: A First Amendment Jurisprudence for the Modern State 32, 35 (2012). but their central mission is to generate and disseminate knowledge—to be “a space where ideas are held up to critical scrutiny and our best understanding of the truth is identified and professed.”30Whittington, supra note 19, at 7. As the Supreme Court put it in Sweezy v. New Hampshire—a case often cited in the literatures involving both listener interests and campus speech—we “must always remain free to inquire, to study and to evaluate, to gain new maturity and understanding; otherwise our civilization will stagnate and die.”31Sweezy v. New Hampshire, 354 U.S. 234, 250 (1957). Keyishian v. Board of Regents, which likewise has a prominent place in both literatures, similarly declared that “[t]he classroom is peculiarly the ‘marketplace of ideas.’ The Nation’s future depends upon leaders trained through wide exposure to that robust exchange of ideas which discovers truth ‘out of a multitude of tongues, [rather] than through any kind of authoritative selection.’ ”32Keyishian v. Bd. of Regents, 385 U.S. 589, 603 (1967) (quoting United States v. Assoc. Press, 52 F. Supp. 362, 372 (S.D.N.Y. 1943)). Perhaps even more extreme, in Healy v. James the Court suggested that the full panoply of free speech principles apply on college campuses: “[T]he precedents of this Court leave no room for the view that, because of the acknowledged need for order, First Amendment protections should apply with less force on college campuses than in the community at large.” Healy v. James, 408 U.S. 169, 180–81 (1972).

But the university, let alone the classroom, is a “marketplace of ideas” in a very particularized sense. Surely, scholars must be free to attack shibboleths and to push the boundaries of knowledge beyond received academic orthodoxy. Moreover, the commitments to communication, reasoning, and persuasion in the classroom might make it an especially valuable site of the marketplace’s supposed truth-seeking capability, which has been subject to withering criticism elsewhere.33Many thanks to Greg Magarian for pressing this point. And yet even the most ardent champions of the free speech model would accept that scholarly discourse, including in the classroom, not only permits but requires speech regulations that would not be acceptable in the traditional public marketplace of ideas.34See, e.g., Post, supra note 29, at 9 (“The continuous discipline of peer judgment, which virtually defines expert knowledge, is quite incompatible with deep and fundamental First Amendment doctrines . . . .”). It would violate the First Amendment if a state were to fine its citizens $50 for espousing flat earth beliefs in public discourse. It would not violate the First Amendment if a state university’s geology department were to deny tenure to a faculty member espousing such beliefs in her scholarship. In innumerable ways, communication in university settings is appropriately subject to restrictions that would be unthinkable under standard free speech principles.

Some of these limitations can be reconciled with the free speech paradigm on the grounds that they represent applications of well-worn First Amendment principles like time, place, and manner restrictions, but the underlying tension is fundamental. Time, place, and manner restrictions must be content-neutral,35Clark v. Cmty. for Creative Non-Violence, 468 U.S. 288, 293 (1984). but what is a curriculum except a restriction on the content of faculty and student speech? The prohibition on viewpoint discrimination is nearly ironclad in public discourse,36Joseph Blocher, Viewpoint Neutrality and Government Speech, 52 B.C. L. Rev. 695, 695 (2011). but not in scholarly settings.37Jamal Greene, How Rights Went Wrong: Why Our Obsession with Rights is Tearing America Apart 226, 240–41 (2021) (“Universities discriminate, pervasively, based on the content and viewpoint of the speech to which students are exposed, consistent with the pedagogical judgments of faculty and administrators. . . . They do so in part to ensure that the information conveyed to students is of high quality.”).

To be clear, the viewpoint discrimination that is acceptable in scholarly settings must be tied to disciplinary standards and not, for example, political beliefs. Cass R. Sunstein, Campus Free Speech: A Pocket Guide 24 (2024) (“[T]he ban on viewpoint discrimination is often firm on campus—and essential.”).
How else to describe the situation of the geology professor, who after all is simply advocating a scholarly viewpoint? Or consider the fact that in public discourse, speaker equality is a fundamental principle.38Post, supra note 29, at 23 (“Whereas within public discourse the political imperatives of democracy require that persons be regarded as equal and as autonomous, outside public discourse the law commonly regards persons as dependent, vulnerable, and hence unequal.” (footnotes omitted)). In a scholarly setting, ideas and speakers should not be disregarded simply because they are politically unpopular, but it does not follow that all must be accorded equal respect.39Jack M. Balkin, Information Fiduciaries and the First Amendment, 49 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 1183, 1215 (2016) (“Outside of the realm of public discourse, the law drops its assumption that everyone is equally able, independent, and knowledgeable, and that everyone can equally fend for themselves.” (footnote omitted)). Those that do not measure up to the relevant scholarly standards not only can but should be excluded, even if they must be accepted in public discourse.

The rules governing scholarly speech are fundamentally different than those governing free speech because they have different and sometimes conflicting accounts of value. Academic freedom is protected because of its role in generating and spreading knowledge, not speech as such.40For more on the distinction, see Joseph Blocher, Free Speech and Justified True Belief, 133 Harv. L. Rev. 439 (2019). That requires a different set of rules and principles than those that apply to public discourse, including that scholarly speech be governed by the relevant standards of scholarly disciplinarity. This is why universities’ academic freedom policies often appear alongside their tenure policies; the two are deeply intertwined. In the realm of academic discourse, the right to “speak freely” looks very different than it does in public discourse, and it is not true that all “dissenting voices must be tolerated rather than silenced”41Whittington, supra note 19, at 7. To be clear, Whittington recognizes that “[t]here is a tension between the freewheeling spirit of debate that Mill and others advocated and the careful accumulation of knowledge that modern universities try to foster.” Id. at 49. in all campus settings. The central challenge is determining whether and how universities can regulate speech in service of their educational mission.42In his recent book defending a broad view of speech on campus, Cass Sunstein says that universities can regulate speech when doing so “is genuinely essential to their educational mission,” acknowledging that the phrase “is regrettably vague, might be criticized as too narrow or too broad, requires specification, and leaves a great deal open for discussion and debate.” Sunstein, supra note 37, at 17–18 (footnote omitted).

I do not have a better readymade standard, though it seems to me that this—acknowledging the tensions between free speech and educational mission—is the central challenge in campus speech debates. In her wonderful remarks at this symposium, Rebecca Brown suggested that one important framing question is which value provides the baseline: Is free speech only regulable when essential to the educational mission? Or should it only be embraced to the degree that it is?

Many of the current battles over campus speech are playing out atop this tension, which has at least two potentially pernicious results. The first is evaluating matters of academic freedom—freedom of research and publication or freedom in the classroom, for example—according to the principles of public discourse. The second is prescribing remedies that not only ignore but might in fact undermine the institutional independence necessary for academic freedom. When a state legislature declares that professors are failing to treat their classrooms like the marketplace of ideas, it risks committing the first error. When that legislature then shuts down (or for that matter creates) academic centers with the goal of achieving ideological balance,43See, e.g., Ryan Quinn, UNC ‘Civic Life’ Center Progressing, Over Faculty Objections, Inside Higher Ed (May 31, 2023), https://www.insidehighered.com/news/faculty-issues/shared-governance/2023/05/31/unc-civic-life-center-progressing-over-faculty [https://perma.cc/8NUY-Y6HS] (describing the 2023 creation of the School of Civic Life and Leadership at UNC, which according to its board chair is “an effort to try to remedy” an alleged lack of “right-of-center views” on campus). it risks committing the second.

There are many facets to the tension between free speech and academic freedom—indeed, it might be taken as an overall description of the campus speech crisis44My focus here is on the concepts and values at stake; I do not mean to minimize the enormously important issues of social, political, and economic power. For one account, see Isaac Kamola, Am. Ass’n Univ. Professors, Manufacturing Backlash: Right-Wing Think Tanks and Legislative Attacks on Higher Education, 2021–2023 (May 2024), https://www.aaup.org/file/Manufacturing_Backlash_final_1.pdf [https://perma.cc/K8LQ-79G2].—but for present purposes and in keeping with the theme of this symposium it will suffice to focus on one: the interesting, important, and generally under-appreciated role of listener interests. Broadly speaking, advocates of the free speech paradigm have consistently and effectively invoked listener interests to suggest that students are being deprived of important ideas and that they are being forced to listen to objectionable ones. The latter line has become particularly prominent in the wake of the October 7, 2023 attacks in Israel, and has led to allegations of inconsistency and even hypocrisy on all sides. Whatever one thinks about those complaints, the point is that both are rooted in audience impact. Defenders of the academic freedom paradigm, by contrast, have done little to articulate the listener interests at stake for scholarly speech. The result is that listener interests are being used to turn free speech against academic freedom.

This is perhaps most evident in the strenuous critiques, mostly but not exclusively from the political right, alleging that universities are systematically underprotecting freedom of speech. Some critics have focused on the harms to speakers,45See supra notes 3–6 and sources cited therein. occasionally making martyrs out of provocateurs and others whose potential contributions to knowledge-producing discourse are marginal at best.46Franks, supra note 1, at 238 (“Milo Yiannopoulos, Ann Coulter, and their ilk are not experts, or professors, or intellectuals. They are Internet celebrities. Their appearance on college campuses is objectionable because they are simply not qualified to be there, and universities should not squander precious attention and resources on clowns and provocateurs.”). That strategy has undoubtedly been effective, but it has also had the distorting effect of elevating the profiles of professional attention-getters rather than those with a genuine dedication and ability to contribute meaningful ideas—including unpopular or disfavored ideas—to campus discourse.

Alongside this speaker-focused critique, however, there is a deeper and more serious element that focuses on the interests of potential listeners, including students who are denied access to important voices and ideas (primarily conservative ones). That critique takes multiple forms as well. One emphasizes the danger that conservative students will be alienated and harmed in campus settings where they cannot hear voices like their own or that students who are not exposed to such ideas will be indoctrinated with liberal orthodoxy.47See generally David Horowitz, Indoctrination U.: The Left’s War Against Academic Freedom (2007) (arguing that American universities have been hijacked by leftist radical pushing an ideological curriculum). Some conclude that the appropriate solution is to impose more control from the outside. Often the diagnosis and prescription are explicitly political, as with the “Freedom from Indoctrination Act,” whose supporters say would—by “[r]eclaiming [a]cademic [f]reedom”—give students “the freedom to take coursework without a distinctive left-wing ideological valence.”48Matt Beienburg, Rescue College Classrooms with the Freedom from Indoctrination Act, Am. Enter. Inst. (Sept. 13, 2023), https://www.aei.org/research-products/report/rescue-college-classrooms-with-the-freedom-from-indoctrination-act [https://web.archive.org/web/20240316234150/https://www.aei.org/research-products/report/rescue-college-classrooms-with-the-freedom-from-indoctrination-act].

As a matter of education and pedagogy, the most fundamental risk is that listeners in an academic setting will be harmed if not given sufficient opportunity to hear and consider ideas different than their own.49Students for Academic Freedom, a group sponsored by David Horowitz, adopted as its motto “You can’t get a good education if they’re only telling you half the story.” Students for Academic Freedom, https://studentsforacademicfreedom.org [https://perma.cc/JEB9-X4SC]. As John Stuart Mill put it in On Liberty: “Both teachers and learners go to sleep at their post as soon as there is no enemy in the field.”50John Stuart Mill, On Liberty 105 (Gertrude Himmelfarb ed., Penguin Classics 1987) (1859). If a university community presents only one side, its thinking process is thereby distorted, just as “the thinking process of the community” can be distorted by restrictions on speech (to borrow a phrase form Alexander Meiklejohn).51Alexander Meiklejohn, Political Freedom: The Constitutional Powers of the People 27 (1960) (emphasis omitted). As then-professor Elena Kagan wrote (quoting Meiklejohn) in the course of describing R.A.V. v. City of St. Paul, 505 U.S. 377 (1992): “The ordinance . . . restricted speech in a way that skewed public debate on an issue by limiting the expressive opportunities of one side only. . . . [T]he ordinance ensured that listeners would confront a distorted debate, thus interfering with ‘the thinking process of the community.’ ” Elena Kagan, Private Speech, Public Purpose: The Role of Governmental Motive in First Amendment Doctrine, 63 U. Chi. L. Rev. 413, 418 (1996) (quoting Meiklejohn, supra note 51, at 27 (emphasis omitted)).

One might object to the predicate assumptions—perhaps conservative voices are not being silenced; perhaps students have access to all the viewpoints they need—but at the very least these are arguments, rooted in listener interests, that must be taken seriously. They have been used to “undermine[] the legitimacy” of universities52Franks, supra note 1, at 220 (“[T]he false narrative of the college free speech crisis is how it undermines the legitimacy of the university as a free speech institution.”). and sometimes to directly threaten the institutional autonomy that is essential to academic freedom, for example by imposing restrictions on subject matter,53See Sarah Schwartz, Map: Where Critical Race Theory Is Under Attack, Educ. Wk. (Jan. 30, 2025), https://www.edweek.org/policy-politics/map-where-critical-race-theory-is-under-attack/2021/06 [https://perma.cc/8RJS-Z24H]. interfering with hiring decisions,54See Katie Robertson, Nikole Hannah-Jones Denied Tenure at University of North Carolina, N.Y. Times (July 15, 2022), https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/19/business/media/nikole-hannah-jones-unc.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20250102032640/https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/19/business/media/nikole-hannah-jones-unc.html]. and weakening tenure.55This threat is especially acute for the more than two-thirds of faculty having contingent (i.e., not tenure/tenure-track) appointments—figures that are especially high for women and members of under-represented minority groups. Glenn Colby, Am. Ass’n Univ. Professors, Data Snapshot: Tenure and Contingency in US Higher Education 2 (Mar. 2023), https://www.aaup.org/sites/default/files/AAUP%20Data%20Snapshot.pdf [https://perma.cc/HUN9-QBCY]. See also Johann N. Neem, The Subtle Erosion of Academic Freedom, Inside Higher Ed. (Apr. 15, 2019), https://www.insidehighered.com/views/2019/04/16/three-subtle-forces-weakening-academic-freedom-opinion [https://perma.cc/GJP6-AVXS] (“The most obvious and well-known threat to academic freedom is the decline of tenure and shared governance at many established institutions.”).

   Legislative initiatives are already underway to weaken tenure. See, e.g., S.B. 266, 2023 Leg., Reg. Sess. (Fla. 2023) (“[H]iring authority is not bound by the recommendations or opinions of faculty or other individuals.”); Am. Ass’n Univ. Professors, Academic Freedom and Tenure: University System of Georgia 12 (Dec. 2021), https://www.aaup.org/file/Bulletin2022Final-2-USG_0.pdf [https://perma.cc/V7TT-HFQE] (describing University of Georgia Board of Regents policies that “effectively abolished tenure in Georgia’s public colleges and universities” (footnote omitted)).
The most prominent threats appear to be coming from the political right, but left-associated programs like DEI can present threats as well. As Khiara Bridges notes, “If institutions take it as their duty to ensure student comfort—and if antidiscrimination laws are wielded in a way to enforce that duty—then academic freedom surely will suffer.”56Khiara M. Bridges, Evaluating Pressures on Academic Freedom, 59 Hous. L. Rev. 803, 807 (2022).

Defenders of the academy have rightly called out these ongoing attacks. But ringing the alarm bells is only part of the task. Proponents of academic freedom must be able to do at least two things: hold it out as something distinct from free speech, and provide a theory of value. These are not new tasks. Roughly coincident with the awakening of free speech in constitutional doctrine, academic freedom found its first and most important articulation of identity and value in the foundational texts and practices of

American academic freedom: the 1915 Declaration of Principles on Academic Freedom and Academic Tenure57Finkin & Post, supra note 8, at 30 (calling the 1915 Declaration “[t]he first systematic articulation of the logic and structure of academic freedom in America, and arguably the greatest”). and the 1940 Statement of Principles on Academic Freedom and Tenure.58Id. at 48 (“The 1940 Statement has since become the standard of academic freedom in the United States.” (italicization removed)).

At the time of the 1915 Declaration, the “philosophical birth cry” of academic freedom in the United States,59Ralph S. Brown & Jordan E. Kurland, Academic Tenure and Academic Freedom, 53 Law & Contemp. Probs. 325, 326 (1990) (quoting Walter P. Metzger, Academic Tenure in America: A Historical Essay, in Commission on Academic Tenure in Higher Education, Faculty Tenure: A Report and Recommendations 93, 148 (1973)). the major threats to faculty independence were triggered by professors’ speech, not by speech they were supposedly stifling. Today, the threat is often presented as being to free speech itself—a concept that was, as a constitutional matter, still in its infancy at the time of the AAUP’s original efforts.60David M. Rabban, The State of Free Speech Doctrine in 1917, 50 Ariz. St. L.J. 911, 911 (2018) (noting that courts were still overwhelmingly rejecting First Amendment claims in 1917). Responding to that threat today, it seems especially worthwhile to attach the value of academic freedom to its manifestation in scholarly speech.61I hold aside here the interesting and important question of whether and to what degree professors at public universities should be subject to the rule of Garcetti v. Ceballos, which holds that a public employee’s speech made pursuant to “official duties” does not receive First Amendment protection. Garcetti v. Ceballos, 547 U.S. 410, 425–26 (2006). See Aaron Worthen, Note, Think of the Children: How the Role of Students in the Classroom Informs Future Applications of Garcetti v. Ceballos in Academic Contexts, 2014 BYU L. Rev. 983, 1005–06 (2014) (concluding that scholarship, but not teaching, should be exempt from Garcetti); Michael A. Sloman, Note, “A Kind of Continuing Dialogue”: Reexamining the Audience’s Role in Exempting Academic Freedom From Garcetti’s Employee Speech Doctrine, 55 Ga. L. Rev. 935, 957 (2020) (concluding that both scholarship and teaching should be exempt from Garcetti).

This is undoubtedly an important issue, given that in the litigation over Florida’s Stop WOKE Act Florida’s lawyers argued that “the State has unfettered authority to limit what [public university] professors may say in class.” Pernell v. Fla. Bd. of Governors of the State Univ. Sys., 641 F. Supp. 3d 1218, 1233 (N.D. Fla. 2022). Striking down the law, the district court judge called it “positively dystopian,” and said that “[i]t should go without saying that ‘[i]f liberty means anything at all it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.’ ” Id. at 1230 (quoting George Orwell, The Freedom of the Press, The Orwell Found., https://www.orwellfoundation.com/the-orwell-foundation/orwell/essays-and-other-works/the-freedom-of-the-press [https://perma.cc/EH45-6CW5] (First published: The Times Literary Supplement 1972).
In doing so, defenders of academic freedom would be well served to embrace the challenge posed by this symposium and articulate a value of listener interests akin to what defenders of free speech have done.

Indeed, there are good reasons to think that for universities—and thus for academic freedom—listener interests have always been central, even if (as with the freedom of speech) the freedoms themselves are articulated in terms of speaker rights. The very raison d’être for academic freedom, after all, is the production and dissemination of knowledge, which presupposes recipients. As Justice Brennan put it in another context (in a passage often cited by those expounding listener interests), “[t]he dissemination of ideas can accomplish nothing if otherwise willing addressees are not free to receive and consider them. It would be a barren marketplace of ideas that had only sellers and no buyers.”62Lamont v. Postmaster Gen., 381 U.S. 301, 308 (1965) (Brennan, J., concurring). It is not coincidental that some of the clearest legal language supporting the listener-focused approach comes from cases involving educational settings.63See, e.g., Kleindienst v. Mandel, 408 U.S. 753, 763 (1972) (“This Court has recognized that [the right to receive information] is ‘nowhere more vital’ than in our schools and universities.” (quoting Shelton v. Tucker, 364 U.S. 479, 487 (1960))); Tinker v. Des Moines Indep. Cmty. Sch. Dist., 393 U.S. 503, 511 (1969) (“In our system, students may not be regarded as closed-circuit recipients of only that which the State chooses to communicate.”); Bd. of Educ., Island Trees Union Free Sch. Dist. No. 26 v. Pico, 457 U.S. 853, 867 (1982) (calling “the right to receive information and ideas” an “inherent corollary of the rights of free speech and press” (quoting Stanley v. Georgia, 394 U.S. 557, 564 (1969))); Keyishian v. Bd. of Regents, 385 U.S. 589, 603 (1967) (describing the classroom as a “marketplace of ideas” and stating that academic freedom is “of transcendent value to all of us and not merely to the teachers concerned”).

Broadly speaking, universities might be a particularly special kind of institution in terms of listener interests—one in which speaker and listener interests are generally aligned. RonNell Andersen Jones has identified and explored this dynamic in the “constitutionally symbiotic relationship between the institutional speakers of the press and their public audiences,” which she calls the “most notable” example.64RonNell Andersen Jones, Press Speakers and the First Amendment Rights of Listeners, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 499, 499 (2019). Cf. Red Lion Broad. Corp. v. FCC, 395 U.S. 367, 390 (1969) (“It is the right of the viewers and listeners, not the right of the broadcasters, which is paramount.”). But much of what she says about the press is true of universities as well. Like the press, universities are “a specially protected institutional speaker with both a uniquely powerful speech relationship with listeners and a uniquely heightened threat of being targeted by government regulators.”65Jones, supra note 64, at 515. And like the press, universities are not mere conduits for speech, but rather play an active role along with their listeners in shaping that speech.66See id. at 500.

Of course, universities are not singular entities but institutions comprising a complex web of speakers and listeners, each with different interests, as the following Part explores in more detail.

II. The Audiences of Scholarly Speech

The discussion thus far has attempted to highlight connections between three concepts—free speech, academic freedom, and listener interests—that are themselves contested and hard to define. This Part attempts to make the analysis more concrete in at least two ways.

The first goal is to disaggregate some of the various audiences of the scholarly speech protected by academic freedom, including students, faculty, and the public.67Even this division is somewhat artificial, since of course the same person can at different times play all three roles—for example, “classrooms are a primary medium for the transmission of scholarly expertise to the public.” Post, supra note 29, at 88. Similar challenges of audience-identification arise for other listener-based accounts, though, and it still seems valuable to differentiate roles. Those audiences have different and sometimes-conflicting interests, which raises tensions for the concept of academic freedom and scholarly speech. The second goal is to try to identify particular—and difficult—campus speech issues and controversies that might be illuminated or better understood with attention to the listener interests involved. Recognizing listener interests will not and cannot provide simple solutions.68Leslie Kendrick, Are Speech Rights for Speakers?, 103 Va. L. Rev. 1767, 1798 (2017) (“Recognizing both speakers’ and listeners’ rights makes cases more complex and possibly creates divergent outcomes.” (footnote omitted)). But it might help illustrate the challenge.

A. Students

Perhaps the most obvious and immediate audience for scholarly speech (which, again, I use as shorthand for the kind of speech that academic freedom enables) is students. And, as detailed above, their interests as listeners have been made central to the current debates over free speech on campus, so it makes sense to begin by considering how those interests as listeners relate to academic freedom.

  1. Classrooms and Other Curricular Settings

Classrooms are a “peculiarly”69See Keyishian v. Bd. of Regents, 385 U.S. 589, 603 (1967) (“The classroom is peculiarly the ‘marketplace of ideas.’ ”). useful place to begin considering listener interests, though the lessons they provide in that regard are not straightforward. Indeed, it may be better to think of classrooms as peculiar not in the sense that they are especially a marketplace of ideas but—in keeping with the other meaning of peculiar—that they are an odd marketplace of ideas.

On the one hand, the interests of student-listeners provide a solid justification for instructors’ freedom of teaching, which has been a pillar of academic freedom for at least a century. When professors are prevented from teaching their best understanding of the subject matter in which they are expert, the most significant and concrete harm is likely to the students whose educations are hampered by denial of access to that information. This is fully consistent with the fact that it is typically professors, not students, who assert that freedom. After all, “speakers often have the job of asserting listeners’ rights” because they “are often best placed to challenge allegedly censorial governmental action.”70Kendrick, supra note 68, at 1778; id. (first citing Larry Alexander, Is There a Right of Freedom of Expression? 8–10 (2005); and then citing Frederick Schauer, Intentions, Conventions, and the First Amendment: The Case of Cross-Burning, 2003 Sup. Ct. Rev. 197, 222 n.80 (2004)) (“In asserting the First Amendment in their defense to a criminal, civil, or administrative action, speakers assert a form of third-party standing on behalf of listeners.”).

It does not follow, however, that freedom of teaching is bounded by students’ narrow and immediate preferences. Certainly faculty do not have unbridled freedom to teach students who do not wish to learn; the rights and duties of academic freedom do not work that way, and no one is obliged to attend university and be exposed to ideas they would prefer to avoid. But faculty must and do have control over the curriculum, even when that means teaching material that students—or for that matter legislatures or trustees—find boring, difficult, or otherwise objectionable.71Sunstein suggests a possible exception for “the most egregious cases, in which viewpoint discrimination is unmistakable and cannot be defended by reference to, say, scientific consensus.” Sunstein, supra note 37, at 68. The relevant standards are those of academic disciplinarity and good pedagogy, not what students or others prefer at any given moment. If those standards are satisfied, then students-as-listeners can be expected to give their attention, whether or not they reject the information or even find it despicable or threatening.72Cf. John K. Wilson, The Tennessee Legislature’s Attack on Free Speech, Academe Blog (Feb. 12, 2017), https://academeblog.org/2017/02/12/the-tennessee-legislatures-attack-on-free-speech [https://perma.cc/8BQA-7GN7] (quoting a student from the University of Tennessee College Republicans, speaking at a press conference introducing Tennessee’s anti-campus protest bill: “Students are often intimidated by the academic elite in the classroom, Tennessee is a conservative state, we will not allow out of touch professors with no real world experience to intimidate eighteen-year-olds.”). Students who choose not to listen can legitimately face consequences (such as lower grades); students who disrupt the flow of information to other willing listeners can be disciplined.

This is the central reason why efforts to either forbid or require the teaching of certain subject matters is so troubling: Even as they invoke students’ interests in “free speech” or “academic freedom,” such efforts limit the institutional autonomy to make curricular choices, essentially turning academic freedom on its head and thus undermining students-as-listeners’ interests in being taught by experts.

That does not mean, of course, that individual faculty are free to teach whatever they like—that would be a different, but still inappropriate, use of a free speech paradigm. Attention to disciplinary standards is the core of academic freedom, and it imposes limits both on faculty as speakers and on students as listeners. As then-Judge Samuel Alito put it in a Third Circuit case rejecting a free speech claim brought by a professor who tried to teach religious materials in contravention of curricular expectations, “a public university professor does not have a First Amendment right to decide what will be taught in the classroom.”73Edwards v. Cal. Univ. of Pa., 156 F.3d 488, 491 (3d Cir. 1998).

The situation is therefore one in which the interests of students-as-listeners are paramount—the predicate for freedom of pedagogy—but universities (not outside bodies) must have control of the curriculum. This is in tension with some of the principles that emerge in standard accounts of listener interests within the free speech paradigm. After all, one “fundamental” value at issue in the free speech tradition is that “the state wrongs citizens by arrogating to itself the authority to decide what messages they ought to hear.”74J.W. Howard, Freedom of Speech, Stan. Encyclopedia of Phil. (Jan. 19, 2024), https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/freedom-speech [https://perma.cc/3D4X-Y3NL]. But that is just what teachers do.

A variety of other listener-based principles also play out differently for students in classrooms than for people in public discourse. In most First Amendment settings it is generally accepted that “captive” audiences— those who cannot avoid a message and should not have to abandon a particular space in order to do so—have a greater right not to listen.75Caroline Mala Corbin, The First Amendment Right Against Compelled Listening, 89 B.U. L. Rev. 939, 943–50 (2009). By contrast, those who can take steps to avoid an unwanted message are expected to do so,76Martin v. City of Struthers, 319 U.S. 141, 147 (1943) (rejecting “stringent prohibition” on all door-to-door soliciting when “leaving to each householder the full right to decide whether he will receive strangers as visitors” would protect the unwilling listener). especially in public places.77Leslie Gielow Jacobs, Is There an Obligation to Listen?, 32 U. Mich. J.L. Reform 489, 491 (1999); Madsen v. Women’s Health Ctr., Inc., 512 U.S. 753, 774 (1994) (invalidating a no-approach zone outside an abortion clinic); see also Heffron v. Int’l Soc’y for Krishna Consciousness, Inc., 452 U.S. 640, 657 n.1 (1981) (Brennan, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part) (“[Fairgoers] have no general right to be free from being approached.”). In Cohen v. California, the Supreme Court reasoned that unwilling viewers did not have privacy interests that would justify such speech suppression because, rather than being “powerless to avoid [the] conduct,” they “could effectively avoid further bombardment of their sensibilities simply by averting their eyes.”78Cohen v. California, 403 U.S. 15, 21–22 (1971).

As Caroline Mala Corbin observes, “[l]ike employees at work, students on campus are often a captive audience.”79Corbin, supra note 75, at 962 (footnote omitted). See also Bonnell v. Lorenzo, 241 F.3d 800, 820–21 (6th Cir. 2001) (holding as much). But it would be too much to conclude that students have a right to disregard—or, worse, interfere with others’ access to—pedagogically-appropriate lessons about the rule against perpetuities because they find it too difficult, or Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization80Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Org., 142 S. Ct. 2228 (2022). (or for that matter Roe v. Wade81Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113 (1973).) because they find it upsetting. Of course institutions and instructors might choose to provide exceptions and accommodations for pedagogical reasons (pedagogy has its own disciplinarity, which includes understanding one’s listeners), but not simply to avoid relevant materials. Thus, even though it involves listeners who are in some sense captive, the classroom is an exception—or at least qualification—to the notion that “[s]tudents have a right to ignore speech that they find appalling and unpersuasive, or to take up the challenge to counter such speech with arguments of their own.”82Whittington, supra note 19, at 111.

Second, although law sometimes gives primacy to listeners’ interests over those of speakers in contexts where speakers have more power or information,83Helen Norton, Powerful Speakers and Their Listeners, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 441, 446 (2019). the same is not true in the classroom. Helen Norton explains:

Even absent any relationship of trust, listeners become vulnerable to speakers when those speakers exert physical, legal, or economic control over them. The sorts of listeners subject to speakers’ dominion in these ways include those in government custody, patients in certain health care settings, and many workers. Listeners in these settings are less likely—and sometimes entirely unable—to question, rebut, or escape powerful speakers.84Id. at 449–50 (footnotes omitted).

Norton does not mention students, but there can be no doubt that in many ways (if not all85Bridges, supra note 56, at 809 (noting that while the power inequality typically favors the professor, “there is a vulnerability that comes from being the intellectual author of a course,” and that the power dynamics do not equally favor “people of color, women, trans and gender-nonconforming individuals, gay and lesbian persons, and people with disabilities”). ) they have “less information or power”86Norton, supra note 83, at 441. than their professors, especially in the classroom setting.87Bridges, supra note 56, at 808 (“In many of our discussions about academic freedom, the classroom figures as the site of an uneven power dynamic wherein the professor reigns as overlord and the student exists as defenseless liege, subject to the professor’s whims.” (footnote omitted)). This is akin to the danger of what Erin Miller has described in the context of media companies as the “skewing power” of an “epistemic funnel,” which can disrupt a person’s epistemic rationality, or “ability to form rational, justified beliefs.”88Erin Miller, Media Power Through Epistemic Funnels, 20 Geo. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 873, 875–76 (2022). A fundamental goal of teaching is to further epistemic rationality, not undermine it, but the imbalance and risk are ever-present.

And yet, as with the principle of captivity, it does not follow that students can invoke their interests as listeners to opt out of curricular requirements or particular lessons. In that respect, the undoubted inequality between students as listeners and faculty as speakers does not lead to the outcome that it might in the free speech paradigm. In other ways, however, the two are not necessarily inconsistent. After all, in other contexts involving asymmetry of knowledge or power such as professional speech,89Claudia E. Haupt, Professional Speech, 125 Yale L.J. 1238, 1271 (2016) (“The professional relationship is typically characterized by an asymmetry of knowledge.”). free speech principles tolerate various forms of regulation in order to ensure that listeners—even if they are at a disadvantage of power or information—are receiving information that satisfies the relevant professional standards.90See Norton, supra note 83, at 460. In the context of teaching, these listener-protective standards are supplied and enforced by the relevant academic unit. For example, the AAUP’s 1915 Declaration specifically warns faculty to “guard against taking unfair advantage of the student’s immaturity by indoctrinating [them] with the teacher’s own opinions” before the student is in a position to examine other opinions and “form any definitive opinion of [their] own.”91Edwin R. A. Seligman, Charles E. Bennett, James Q. Dealey, Richard T. Ely, Henry W. Farnam, Frank A. Fetter, Franklin H. Giddings, Charles A. Kofoid, Arthur O. Lovejoy, Frederick W. Padelford, Roscoe Pound, Howard C. Warren, Ulysses G. Weatherly & Am. Ass’n Univ. Professors, General Report of the Committee on Academic Freedom and Academic Tenure: Presented at the Annual Meeting of the Association 35 (1915).

Third, many standard listener-based accounts of free speech emphasize the autonomy interests of listeners. As Jones puts it:

If listeners, like speakers, have dignitary rights to self-fulfillment and self-definition, they “must also be free to shape their own identities and preferences.” Listening should be an independent source of legal right because a listener possesses not only “a powerful dignitary interest in shaping and defining the hearer’s self,” but also “an instrumental interest in gaining access to information and ideals that will assist the hearer in making rational, informed choices,” and a legitimate “fear that government will abuse any power to cut the hearer off” from speech that meets these needs.92Jones, supra note 64, at 503 (footnotes omitted) (first quoting Burt Neuborne, Madison’s Music: On Reading the First Amendment 98 (2015); and then quoting Burt Neuborne, The Status of the Hearer in Mr. Madison’s Neighborhood, 25 Wm. & Mary Bill Rts. J. 897, 906–07 (2017)). See also Charles L. Black, Jr., He Cannot Choose but Hear: The Plight of the Captive Auditor, 53 Colum. L. Rev. 960, 965 (1953) (“Why on earth should anyone committed to the central assumptions of our ethical life see anything picayune or petty in the claim of a man to dispose, as he will and as unavoidable circumstances allow, of his attention and of the faculties it marshals, as against the claim of a group of men to take this autonomy away from him for their own profit?”); Charles Fried, The New First Amendment Jurisprudence: A Threat to Liberty, 59 U. Chi. L. Rev. 225, 233 (1992) (“[M]y status as a rational sovereign requires that I be free to judge for myself what is good and how I shall arrange my life . . . .”); Burt Neuborne, Blues for the Left Hand: A Critique of Cass Sunstein’s “Democracy and the Problem of Free Speech”, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 423, 443 (1995) (arguing that hearers should not be viewed as weak and malleable creatures in need of widespread government protection).

Once again, a simple version of autonomous listener interests cannot account for curricular settings, at least not without modification. Students might earnestly believe that they should be free to shape their identity and preferences by avoiding particular information. But that will not excuse them from curricular requirements regarding those topics.

There are ways to blunt the tension. One might say that students have, by enrolling in a program with transparent requirements, autonomously pursued their “instrumental interest in gaining access to information and ideals that will assist the hearer in making rational, informed choices,” and that their objections to any particular steps along the way should be subsumed to the larger autonomous choice. This effectively treats the students’ choice to listen as a kind of rolling consent. After all, the student version of academic freedom traces itself to the German Lernfreiheit, or freedom to learn, which originally “referred simply to the freedom to choose one’s course of study.”93Menand, supra note 14.

Of course, none of this means that students do or should have no say in the curriculum.94Bridges, supra note 56, at 810 nn. 21 & 22 (collecting sources showing how law students have been challenging curricular requirements and the content of other required courses). As Khiara Bridges notes, “a society that purports to value equality benefits when professors learn to experience this pressure not as a constraint on academic freedom but rather as an entreaty about the destination to which their exercise of academic freedom might lead.”95Id. at 812. Good pedagogy not only licenses but requires attention to one’s audience. The point is not to describe knowledge but to convey it, and careful instructors therefore account for structure, presentation, and pacing, all of which depend in part on students’ abilities, interest, and experiences. Perhaps a broad mandate of trigger warnings and class exemptions hinders learning. But professors who stubbornly insist on teaching material without considering their students’ perspectives are simply abdicating the responsibility to teach well.

  1. Campus Speakers, Events, and Other Extra-Curricular Settings

The analysis thus far has focused on the classroom, where the importance of students-as-listeners and demands of academic freedom as a form of disciplinarity seem most clear. Matters are more difficult when it comes to nominally extra-curricular campus speech like outside speakers and events.

It is one thing to say that students are obliged to listen and learn the prescribed material in a class for which they have registered or which is otherwise required by the curriculum. It is quite another to say that they are obliged to give their attention to any particular campus speaker or lunchtime event. To do so might be a virtue, but attention is a precious resource96Tim Wu, Is the First Amendment Obsolete?, Knight First Amend. Inst. at Colum. Univ. (Sept. 1, 2017), https://knightcolumbia.org/content/tim-wu-first-amendment-obsolete [https://perma.cc/78KW-7LG8] (“[I]t is no longer speech or information that is scarce, but the attention of listeners.”). and students-as-listeners retain substantial control over how they choose to spend it. In that regard, the autonomy principle plays a more important role when it comes to extra-curricular speech than it does in the classroom.

Most campus speaker controversies—which can serve as a stand-in for the broader category of on-campus, extra-curricular speech—do not involve students deciding not to listen, but rather efforts to protest or disrupt such speeches so that others cannot listen, either. Most (albeit not all97See, e.g., Gregory P. Magarian, When Audiences Object: Free Speech and Campus Speaker Protests, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 551, 554 (2019) (“A sound free speech analysis of campus speaker protests should begin with the insight that the student audience’s interest is paramount because the university’s defining purpose is to educate its students. That doesn’t mean students should simply dictate every decision about speaker invitations.”). I might define the mission more broadly to include the advancement and dissemination of knowledge beyond students, but the point—that students have valid audience interests—remains the same.) discussions, celebrations, and condemnations of these efforts have focused on either the protesting students or the “cancelled” speakers. This has had a number of unfortunate effects. One is distorting understandings of the campus speech climate by treating the actions of a few students at a few schools as if they are representative of the millions of students across the country. Another is amplifying the supposed interests of would-be speakers, some of whom are neither seeking nor likely to communicate anything of academic interest. Making the loudest of them into martyrs distorts the real issues of academic freedom at stake, as well as the valid audience-interests that generally count in favor of including controversial scholarly speakers.

Students who object to a speaker might be asserting their own interests as listeners—as they have every right to do—but they also risk interfering with the listening interests of others. Some degree of protest, aggressive questioning, or heckling might be appropriate and could even contribute to the educative value of the event.98Whittington, supra note 19, at 119 (“Far better for students to be thoughtful participants in events on campus than idle spectators, and a robust culture of free speech on campus should give ample space to students to voice their discontents and disagreement with campus speakers.”). But disrupting the match between a willing speaker and a willing audience is the essence of interfering with listeners’ interests.99James Grimmelmann, Listeners’ Choices, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 365, 366 (2019) (“The paradigm case of free speech involves a matched pair of a willing speaker and a willing listener.”); Kendrick, supra note 68, at 1791 (“Professor T.M. Scanlon’s Millian Principle posited that it is wrong for the state to interfere with allegedly harmful messages, because doing so fails to treat listeners as autonomous beings capable of evaluating messages on their own.” (footnote omitted)). Student-listeners’ opposition to a speech they are not required to attend cannot, without more, be a reason for either them or the university to unduly disrupt the event. This is generally consistent with First Amendment doctrine, which holds that “[l]isteners’ reactions to speech are not the type of ‘secondary effects’ ” that may insulate a regulation from heightened scrutiny100Boos v. Barry, 485 U.S. 312, 321 (1988) (citing Renton v. Playtime Theatres, Inc., 475 U.S. 41 (1986)).—in this context, the protest or disruption would be the equivalent of a regulation.

As with classroom pedagogy, of course, this does not mean that student objections to a particular speaker or event should be ignored. Greg Magarian’s suggested solution is that a university has a “duty of faithful service to its students,” and that if it invites a speaker “for reasons that diverge from the interests of the student community” then the validity of the invitation should ultimately turn on “the university’s process for inviting the speaker.”101Magarian, supra note 97, at 556–57. This focus on listeners’ interests in the process of selection rather than with regard to the merits of an individual speaker raises an important potential framing question when it comes to listeners’ interests—namely, whether they should be measured at any one moment or across a broader time frame.102Daryl J. Levinson, Framing Transactions in Constitutional Law, 111 Yale L.J. 1311, 1314 (2002) (“The results of constitutional cases turn on the location, size, and shape of often-invisible transactional frames that are positioned prior to any deliberation over the meaning or purposes of constitutional rights. This is the basic problem of ‘framing transactions’ in constitutional law.”). Education, after all, is a process of development over time, many moments of which (exams, particular lessons, and for that matter particular ideas and speakers) might be objectionable to a listener.

  1. Dormitories and Other Private Spaces

While it may be true that the primary mission of a university is the production and dissemination of knowledge, it does not follow that this mission is exclusive, nor even that it is primary in every corner of a campus. In some contexts, academic freedom is not the sole or even primary value, and standard free speech principles hold sway, including that of students-as-listeners to limit the speech of others.

Consider the dormitory. An Urban Institute study based on data from 2015 and 2016 found that nearly two-thirds of full-time students at private nonprofit four-year colleges and universities live in college housing, as do about a third of those at public four-year college students.103Understanding College Affordability – Room and Board, Urb. Institute, https://collegeaffordability.urban.org/prices-and-expenses/room-and-board [https://web.archive.org/web/20240819224542/https://collegeaffordability.urban.org/prices-and-expenses/room-and-board/#/room_and_board_by_type_of_institution]. Student housing occupies something of a liminal space in that it is undoubtedly part of a university, and yet is also at least equally the private home of an individual.104See Ashutosh Bhagwat & John Inazu, Searching for Safe Spaces, Inside Higher Ed (Mar. 20, 2017), https://www.insidehighered.com/views/2017/03/21/easily-caricatured-safe-spaces-can-help-students-learn-essay [https://perma.cc/N8DD-KVQV].

In the First Amendment context, courts and scholars have typically recognized a right to choose what one listens to in the home. That right can be affirmative, as in Stanley v. Georgia, which declared that the “right to receive information and ideas, regardless of their social worth, is fundamental to our free society” and that it gains “an added dimension” when exercised “in the privacy of a person’s own home.”105Stanley v. Georgia, 394 U.S. 557, 564 (1969) (citation omitted). But it also encompasses a right not to listen to unwanted speech in the home,106For more on the structure of such choice rights, see Joseph Blocher, Rights To and Not To, 100 Calif. L. Rev. 761 (2012). even if that means interfering with the flow of ideas. As the Supreme Court put it in Frisby v. Schultz, upholding a restriction on picketing in residential neighborhoods, “[t]here simply is no right to force speech into the home of an unwilling listener.”107Frisby v. Schultz, 487 U.S. 474, 485 (1988). In Rowan v. U.S. Post Office Department, the Court upheld a federal law permitting homeowners to opt out of receiving mailed advertisements that the homeowner believed to be “erotically arousing or sexually provocative,”108Rowan v. U.S. Post Office Dep’t, 397 U.S. 728, 737–38 (1970). invoking a similar rationale:

We therefore categorically reject the argument that a vendor has a right under the Constitution or otherwise to send unwanted material into the home of another. If this prohibition operates to impede the flow of even valid ideas, the answer is that no one has a right to press even “good” ideas on an unwilling recipient.109Id. at 738.

The final line goes a bit too far—the government cannot always shut down speech on behalf of unwilling recipients—but it is generally sound in the context of homes and other locations that people cannot or should not have to leave.110Martin v. City of Struthers, 319 U.S. 141, 148 (1943) (striking down a ban on door-to-door distribution of leaflets and the like, comparing it unfavorably with trespass-after-warning statutes and similar laws that “leave[] the decision as to whether distributers of literature may lawfully call at a home where it belongs—with the homeowner”).

The same listener-focused principle applies to students in campus housing. Whether or not students are a captive audience in every campus context,111See supra notes 75–82 and accompanying text. they have a valid claim to that categorization when in their own rooms. It follows that, just as with freedom of speech, others’ claims of academic freedom do not entitle them to force messages, regardless of their merit, onto students in the privacy of their dorms. Again, this tracks basic listener-based approaches to the freedom of speech, including the Court’s invocation of “the First Amendment rights of speakers against the privacy rights of those who may be unwilling viewers or auditors.”112Erznoznik v. City of Jacksonville, 422 U.S. 205, 208 (1975).

It should go without saying that the distinctions between these categories are neither bright nor inevitable. Indeed, the boundaries of the “home” on campus are significantly contested, and many critics claim that students are over-using it to protect themselves from unwanted ideas.113See, e.g., Conor Friedersdorf, A College Is a Community but Cannot Be a Home, The Atl. (Sept. 24, 2016), https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2016/09/a-college-is-a-community-but-cannot-be-a-home/500882 [https://web.archive.org/web/20220707012447/https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2016/09/a-college-is-a-community-but-cannot-be-a-home/500882] (“Campus life is too diverse at most schools for dorms to serve as a place of respite from uncomfortable ideas.”). In a much-publicized incident at Yale in 2017, students confronted the master of Silliman residential college, with one of them saying to him that “[i]t is your job to create a place of comfort and home for the students that live in Silliman . . . Do you understand that?”114Katy Waldman, Yale Students Erupt in Anger Over Administrators Caring More About Free Speech Than Safe Spaces, Slate (Nov. 7 2015, 5:50 PM), https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2015/11/yale-students-protest-over-racial-insensitivity-and-free-speech.html [https://perma.cc/F44Q-LARA]. When the master responded that he had a different view of the role, the student responded: “Then step down! If that is what you think about being a Master, then you should step down. It is not about creating an intellectual space! It is not! Do you understand that? It’s about creating a home here! You are not doing that. You’re going against that.”115Id. Whatever one thinks of the student’s conclusions or the context and tone in which they were delivered, the invocation of the residential college as a “home” is not unjustified. Universities are more than just classrooms; they are “communities whose members not only work and learn together but also live, eat, and socialize together.”116Whittington, supra note 19, at 71.

The lines between curricular and extra-curricular settings are similarly contestable. It might be easy in theory for a student to avoid listening to a lunchtime speaker, but what if the pressure from faculty, administrators, or classmates is so strong that it shades into compulsion?117Cf. J.M. Balkin, Free Speech and Hostile Environments, 99 Colum. L. Rev. 2295, 2310–12 (1999) (“Generally speaking, people are captive audiences for First Amendment purposes when they are unavoidably and unfairly coerced into listening. . . . Captivity in this sense is a matter of practicality rather than necessity. It is about the right not to have to flee rather than the inability to flee.”). A student may be justified in claiming her dorm room as a private space where she has a freedom not to listen to controversial speech, but what about shared living rooms, quads, dining halls, and the like? What if her roommate does wish to discuss controversial topics? There is simply no way to give a single ex ante definition that will answer such questions, any more so than First Amendment doctrine can easily sort public from limited from nonpublic forums.

B. Scholars

Students are in some sense the most obvious listeners on campus, but they are far from the only ones. Whereas faculty as speakers are often central to debates about campus speech, they are also a crucial audience when it comes to academic freedom and scholarly speech.

The scholarly pursuit of knowledge is a communal enterprise.118Whittington, supra note 19, at 15 (“Although the scholarly life is often imagined to be isolated, even hermetic, the scholarly enterprise is fundamentally communal.”). This is true in the obvious sense that a scholar must publish, teach, or otherwise disseminate what she knows in order for others to hear and benefit from the knowledge-production that justifies her academic freedom. But it is also true in the sense that to acquire such knowledge in the first place she must be embedded in a functioning community of speakers and listeners; one that appropriately takes its cues from (i.e., listens to) disciplinary experts.

The point is that the production of knowledge—the process of scholarly inquiry itself119Robert Post, Debating Disciplinarity, 35 Critical Inquiry 749, 751 (2009) (“When we speak of a discipline, therefore, we speak not merely of a body of knowledge but also of a set of practices by which that knowledge is acquired, confirmed, implemented, preserved, and reproduced.” (footnote omitted)).—involves scholars simultaneously speaking and listening to one another. It is a community-wide instantiation of what Seana Shiffrin has described in treating individuals as “thinkers,” rather than speakers or listeners.120Seana Valentine Shiffrin, Speech Matters: On Lying, Morality, and the Law 79–81 (2014); Seana Valentine Shiffrin, A Thinker-Based Approach to Freedom of Speech, 27 Const. Comment 283, 283-84 (2011). The justification for academic freedom is not simply that universities are in possession of truths that others have a valid interest and perhaps right to hear. Rather, it is that academic freedom is necessary to pursue and identify such truths.

This makes it essential that faculty be able to listen to one another. The freedom of research and publication at the heart of the 1915 Declaration is not solely—nor perhaps primarily—for the benefit of the researcher or publisher, but for those who might read and perhaps respond to her work. Actions that prevent scholars from benefiting from one another’s work threaten academic freedom by undermining those listening interests; they are a form of what Meiklejohn called the “mutilation of the thinking process of the community.”121Meiklejohn, supra note 51, at 27 (emphasis omitted) (“It is that mutilation of the thinking process of the community against which the First Amendment to the Constitution is directed.” (emphasis omitted)).

Meiklejohn was forced out of the presidency of Amherst after pushing an educational model that would, among other things, “substitute discussion for pure lecturing, the disposition to lead the students into original inquiry and speculation rather than to preach dogma to them.” Whittington, supra note 19, at 22 (quoting Raymond S. Tompkins, Twelve Decline Their Degrees from Amherst, Balt. Sun, June 21, 1923, at 13).
Scholars must be able to hear one another in order to build on or for that matter repudiate one another’s work.122Menand, supra note 14 (“Academic discourse is rigorously policed. It’s just that the police are professors.”). This model of knowledge production relies on self-policing institutions, not individuality;123For more on institutional approaches to the First Amendment, see Paul Horwitz, First Amendment Institutions 22 (2013); Joseph Blocher, Institutions in the Marketplace of Ideas, 57 Duke L.J. 821 (2008); Frederick Schauer, Principles, Institutions, and the First Amendment, 112 Harv. L. Rev. 84 (1998). scholars using their expertise to question received orthodoxy are not the same as no-nothings on the internet “just asking questions.”

Faculty also have an important interest in listening to their students,124Magarian, supra note 97, at 578 (“[F]ree speech principles should lead us to conceptualize university students as members of a community that university administrators organize and manage but may not dominate.”). as two of the Court’s most distinguished former professors noted in opinions relating to campus speech. In Justice William O. Douglas’s words, “If we are to become an integrated, adult society, rather than a stubborn status quo opposed to change, students and faculties should have communal interests in which each age learns from the other.”125Healy v. James, 408 U.S. 169, 197 (1972) (Douglas, J., concurring). Justice Felix Frankfurter characterized the interaction between teachers and students as “a kind of continuing dialogue.”126Wieman v. Updegraff, 344 U.S. 183, 197 (1952) (Frankfurter, J., concurring) (quoting Testimony of Robert M. Hutchins, Assoc. Dir. of the Ford Found., Hearings before the House Select Committee to Investigate Tax-Exempt Foundations and Comparable Organizations (Nov. 25, 1952)).

The student connection goes deeper still. It is said that being a student “means being open to others in ways that allow one to expand one’s thinking, to enhance one’s capacities for appreciation, for empathy and for civic participation.”127Michael S. Roth, Academic Freedom Is More Important Now Than Ever, Time (Apr. 23, 2024, 12:06 PM), https://time.com/6969851/academic-freedom-is-more-important-than-ever-now [https://perma.cc/W8KJ-UJX3]. See also Michael S. Roth, The Student: A Short History (2023). Such openness to growth and change surely should not be limited to students. Members of a university community “do not have the right to insist that others in fact find . . . arguments persuasive” but they do “have the right to expect that others in the community will be open to persuasion,”128Whittington, supra note 19, at 98. and that expectation in turn can only be legitimate if faculty expect—and demand—the same of themselves. This does not mean wielding disciplinary standards as a cudgel, but working to shape justified beliefs; as Erin Miller observes, “[p]ersuasion engages, rather than subverts, epistemic rationality.”129Miller, supra note 88, at 876.

I have argued elsewhere for the importance of persuadability as a First Amendment virtue.130Blocher, supra note 21, at 109. See generally Vincent Blasi, Free Speech and Good Character, 46 UCLA L. Rev. 1567 (1999) (celebrating, inter alia, receptivity to change). In the context of scholarly speech, that virtue becomes something closer to a duty.131John Stuart Mill, On Liberty 90–91 (David Bromwich & George Kateb eds., Yale Univ. Press 2003) (1859) (“The steady habit of correcting and completing his own opinion by collating it with those of others . . . is the only stable foundation for a just reliance on it . . . .”). A scholar who is not open to being persuaded is merely a speaker, not a listener, and in that sense is not genuinely involved in knowledge production—just dissemination of what that scholar takes to be the truth.

C. The Public

Faculty’s interests as listeners are essential to the practice of scholarly disciplinarity, but the ultimate justification for academic freedom is rooted in the interests of another audience: the general public. As we have seen, academic freedom as a matter of self-governance—freedom from outside control—was originally justified and must be constantly re-defended on the basis that such disciplinarity is actually practiced and also that it serves “the common good.”1321940 Statement, supra note 10, at 14. Both of those essential propositions are under great stress.

First, much of the current critique of campus speech is based on the notion that professors are failing to apply the disciplinary standards that justify academic freedom.133Jeannie Suk Gersen points to former Harvard President Claudine Gay, saying that “[w]hat her embattled leadership couldn’t survive in the end was the drip-drip of plagiarism accusations, which allowed the public to question whether academic standards were relaxed for Gay in her rise to the presidency.” Jeannie Suk Gersen, The Future of Academic Freedom, New Yorker (Jan. 27, 2024), https://www.newyorker.com/news/the-weekend-essay/the-future-of-academic-freedom [https://web.archive.org/web/20240128014145/https://www.newyorker.com/news/the-weekend-essay/the-future-of-academic-freedom]. Such a failure can be taken as a default on the obligations that in turn justify academic freedom. As the AAUP’s 1915 declaration recognized, “[t]here are no rights without corresponding duties.”1341915 Declaration, supra note 22, at 298. Or in the words of the Executive Director of Heterodox Academy, which is at the forefront of campus speech battles today, “this is a pretty fair bargain. Professors receive wide latitude to run their own affairs as experts, in exchange for a certain professorial ethos of fair-mindedness, intellectual humility, and self-restraint.”135Michael Regnier, The Broken Bargain of Academic Freedom, Heterodox Acad. (Oct. 26, 2023), https://heterodoxacademy.org/blog/the-broken-bargain-of-academic-freedom [https://perma.cc/H4EA-VU6L].

It is important that universities combat the impression of knowledge-stultifying homogeneity. One way to do so might be through modeling the virtue of persuadability described above—showing that scholars are in fact listening in meaningful ways. In their critique of cancel culture on college campuses (which is valuable, though it leans too heavily into the free speech paradigm), Greg Lukianoff and Rikki Schlott argue that, “[t]he antidote to an epistemic crisis is an expert class that exhibits epistemic humility. That means acknowledging when they might be wrong.”136Lukianoff & Schlott, supra note 16, at 91. The perception and arguable reality of “epistemic crisis” and characterization of an over-confident ivory tower can only be addressed through an appreciation of the public’s listening interests.

The second point of stress is that the listening public has increasingly come to doubt that academic expertise really does deliver value. A tendency to distrust the ivory tower is nothing new in American life, of course.137Richard Hofstadter, Anti-Intellectualism in American Life (1963). But in the current moment, that crisis of confidence is increasingly deep and partisan. A survey from 2022 found that only 37 percent of Republicans and 73 percent of Democrats believe that colleges and universities have a “positive effect” on society—numbers that have fallen precipitously.138Rachel Fishman, Sophie Nguyen & Louisa Woodhouse, Varying Degrees 2022: New America’s Sixth Annual Survey on Higher Education, New Am. (July 26, 2022), https://www.newamerica.org/education-policy/reports/varying-degrees-2022/findings [https://perma.cc/A3XS-6QFP]. See also Sharp Partisan Divisions in Views of National Institutions, Pew Rsch. Ctr. (July 10, 2017), https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/2017/07/10/sharp-partisan-divisions-in-views-of-national-institutions [https://perma.cc/PZR4-LGYN]. This undoubtedly feeds into what Lukianoff and Schlott describe as one rule of “the right’s Efficient Rhetorical Fortress”; namely that “[y]ou don’t have to listen to experts (even conservative experts, if they have the ‘wrong’ opinion).”139Lukianoff & Schlott, supra note 16, at 165.

There is no simple solution to this problem. In prior work, I have argued that the basic lodestar of an epistemic approach to the First Amendment might be reimagined not as truth but as knowledge—defined roughly as justified true belief.140See Blocher, supra note 40. To do so would mean focusing not just on the accuracy of information but the basis for believing it. And that, in turn, would direct attention to what ultimately is the underlying crisis of the “post-truth” society; not a failure to value or pursue individualized conceptions of truth, but a tendency to value and pursue individualized conceptions of truth regardless of justification. The crisis is one of social epistemology; of losing shared trust in the institutions that give us justified true belief. Any way out of that crisis must be rooted in the interests and perspectives of the listening public, who must be convinced that “[f]or society’s good—if understanding be an essential need of society—inquiries into these problems, speculations about them, stimulation in others of reflection upon them, must be left as unfettered as possible,”141Sweezy v. New Hampshire, 354 U.S. 234, 262 (1957) (Frankfurter, J. concurring). and that the university “will function for the benefit of society, provided it is a center of independent thought.”142Wieman v. Updegraff, 344 U.S. 183, 197 (1952) (Frankfurter, J., concurring) (quoting Testimony of Robert M. Hutchins, Assoc. Dir. of the Ford Found., Hearings before the House Select Committee to Investigate Tax-Exempt Foundations and Comparable Organizations (Nov. 25, 1952)).

Conclusion

In contexts as diverse as employer speech,143Helen Norton, Truth and Lies in the Workplace: Employer Speech and the First Amendment, 101 Minn. L. Rev. 31, 38 (2016) (“[A] focus on employer speech as occurring within a listener-centered relationship better and more coherently furthers key First Amendment values than do efforts to force employer speech to fit within existing and often unsatisfactory constitutional categories”). robotic speech,144Helen Norton, Robotic Speakers and Human Listeners, 41 Seattle U. L. Rev. 1145, 1149 (2018) (arguing, inter alia, “that we understand the First Amendment to permit the government to privilege listeners’ interests by requiring the truthful disclosure of expression’s robotic origin”). amplified speech,145Erin L. Miller, Amplified Speech, 43 Cardozo L. Rev. 1, 58 (2021) (analyzing amplified speech in part through the prism of listener interests, for example in arguing that “courts should review interventions designed to assist listeners under the lower bar of intermediate scrutiny”). commercial speech,146Va. State Bd. of Pharmacy v. Va. Citizens Consumer Council, Inc., 425 U.S. 748, 757 (1976) (“If there is a right to advertise, there is a reciprocal right to receive the advertising . . . .” (footnote omitted)); Robert Post & Amanda Shanor, Adam Smith’s First Amendment, 128 Harv. L. Rev. F. 165, 170 (2015) (“Ordinary First Amendment doctrine . . . focuses on the rights of speakers, not listeners,” but the “constitutional value of commercial speech lies in the rights of listeners to receive information so that they might make intelligent and informed decisions.” (footnote omitted)). and search engines,147James Grimmelmann, Speech Engines, 98 Minn. L. Rev. 868, 894 (2014). scholars and judges have identified and explored the status and role of listeners in giving life to the freedom of speech and the rights of speakers. For doctrinal and technological reasons, those inquiries are as important today as they have ever been, and this symposium is an invitation to take them further. The goal of this Article has been to suggest some ways in which consideration of listener interests might illuminate current debates about campus speech. Students’ interests as listeners are essential to justifying the freedom to teach, and yet students do not have the full panoply of listener-associated interests one might find in other speech contexts. Faculty, meanwhile, are generally treated as the paradigm speaker in campus speech controversies, but also have essential rights and duties as listeners; the production of knowledge through disciplinarity requires as much. And the academy’s authority to govern itself according to disciplinary standards is fundamentally predicated on convincing the public—a broad but essential audience—that the scholarly enterprise is in fact generating valuable knowledge.

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98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1161

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* Lanty L. Smith ’67 Distinguished Professor of Law and Senior Associate Dean of Faculty, Duke Law School. Many thanks to Erin Miller for including me in this symposium, to Ash Bhagwat, Rebecca Brown, Alan Chen, James Grimmelmann, Richard Katskee, Tomer Kenneth, Greg Magarian, and Nomi Stolzenberg for incredibly valuable feedback, and to Jack Townsend for research assistance. 

First Amendment Governance: Social Media, Power, and a Well-Functioning Speech Environment

Introduction

In Moody v. NetChoice, LLC,1Moody v. NetChoice LLC, 603 U.S. 707 (2024). the Supreme Court declared, in a majority opinion by Justice Kagan, that “it is critically important to have a well-functioning sphere of expression, in which citizens have access to information from many sources. That is the whole project of the First Amendment.”2Id. at 732–33. In Moody, social media platforms claimed that their expressive freedom had been violated by state laws mandating certain content-moderation policies.3Id. at 713–17. Although Moody was decided on the criteria required to bring a facial challenge, it nonetheless provided some direction with respect to what the government can and cannot do vis-à-vis the First Amendment rights of social media platforms.4Id. at 717–19.

This decision also implicitly raises the question of what it means for a democracy to have a well-functioning political speech environment in the digital era. This question seems particularly urgent given the profound dilemma that social media poses for democratic theory and practice. On the one hand, social media democratizes communication and promotes egalitarianism by reducing the cost of speech.5See Eugene Volokh, Cheap Speech and What It Will Do, 104 Yale L.J. 1805 (1995); Eugene Volokh, What Cheap Speech Has Done: (Greater) Equality and Its Discontents, 54 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 2303, 2305 (2021). It provides new avenues for expression and association, thereby strengthening public discourse. It has also been harnessed to enable citizen participation in political decision-making.6See Hélène Landemore, Open Democracy and Digital Technologies, in Digital Technology and Democratic Theory 62, 66 (Lucy Bernholz et al. eds., 2021); Roberta Fischli & James Muldoon, Empowering Digital Democracy, 22 Persps. on Pol. 819, 819 (2024). On the other hand, social media can undermine democratic functioning, giving rise to various challenges such as disinformation, echo chambers, troll armies, bots, microtargeting, citizen distrust, and foreign election interference.7See, e.g., Cass R. Sunstein, #Republic: Divided Democracy in the Age of Social Media (2017); Nathaniel Persily, Can Democracy Survive the Internet?, 28 J. Democracy 63 (2017); Richard L. Hasen, Cheap Speech: How Disinformation Poisons Our Politics—and How to Cure It (2022). As various attempts at election subversion, including the attack on the Capitol, demonstrate, election disinformation can have damaging and destabilizing effects on democracy and can diminish the confidence that citizens have in elections. The ongoing stability of political institutions should not be taken for granted in our era of democratic decline.8See, e.g., Tom Ginsburg & Aziz Z. Huq, How to Save a Constitutional Democracy (2018); Steven Levitsky & Daniel Ziblatt, How Democracies Die (2018).

Although free speech has always posed this particular dilemma—both essential for, yet potentially injurious to, democracy—key features of the new digital era raise questions as to whether conventional regulatory approaches are sufficient to safeguard the public sphere. Social media platforms enjoy unprecedented asymmetries of wealth and power as compared to their users. These platforms play a crucial role in providing and regulating the online speech environment9See Jack M. Balkin, Free Speech is a Triangle, 118 Colum. L. Rev. 2011, 2011 (2018). and, hence, in constructing a significant dimension of public discourse. Aside from their dominance, these powerful social media platforms were not created to provide a healthy expressive realm for democracy. Instead, they engage in “surveillance capitalism”—a behavioral advertising business model that sells users’ data for immense profits.10See Shoshana Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power 16 (2019). This profit motive arguably renders the platforms unreliable as self-regulators.11See Abby K. Wood & Ann M. Ravel, Fool Me Once: Regulating “Fake News” and Other Online Advertising, 91 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1223, 1237, 1245 (2018). The outsized power of social media platforms to shape the expressive sphere, combined with their non-public regarding orientation, raises genuine concerns about the ongoing health of the political marketplace of ideas.

While the overwhelming power of the state has always—and rightly—been viewed as particularly perilous for the freedom of speech, dominant private actors, particularly those who either control or have disproportionate access to the means of communication, can likewise pose a threat to free speech. Is it possible to address such asymmetries of power consistent with the First Amendment? Should social media platforms be regulated to provide for the type of speech environment necessary for democracy? What are the normative attributes of a well-functioning sphere of political expression? More generally, what should be done to protect listeners, a category of democratic actor that tends to receive less scholarly attention than speakers?

This Article offers a preliminary analysis of these issues. It is organized in three parts. Part I begins by providing a brief overview of First Amendment doctrine as it applies to speakers and listeners. In addition, it outlines the three principal values—democracy, autonomy, and truth-seeking—that animate the First Amendment. For the purposes of the ensuing analysis, this Article adopts the view that the First Amendment is geared to promoting democratic self-government. Part I then sets out a normative account of a healthy expressive realm. A well-functioning political speech environment for speakers and listeners, I suggest, is one that is free of domination and coercion and in which acute asymmetries in political and economic power do not distort the capacity of individuals to engage in self-government, principally with respect to three central activities: (1) informed voting; (2) discussion and deliberation; and (3) meaningful participation. I claim further that the speech environment ought to protect individuals’ liberty, equality, epistemic, and nondomination interests in order to foster a healthy sphere of expression for these self-governing activities.

While this Article sets out an admittedly idealized account of what a well-functioning political speech environment would entail, and while such an account may never be attained in full (or even in part), a normative theory provides, I suggest, a useful benchmark by which to assess current challenges and their possible regulatory solutions.12To be sure, the idealized account offered here does not on its own furnish a roadmap for reform efforts; its ambition is instead cabined to identifying normative objectives and the problematic features of the world to which such objectives apply, following what Jacob Levy has described as “a back and forth process between cases and principles, evils and ideals.” Jacob T. Levy, There Is No Such Thing as Ideal Theory, 33 Soc. Phil. & Pol’y 312, 328 (2016). To this end, Part I also identifies certain challenges posed by the digital public sphere, and, in addition, advances a claim of “digital exceptionalism”—the idea that the online world of expression has distinctive features that not only distinguish it from the non-digital world but that also pose unique and profound difficulties for the attainment of a well-functioning expressive realm.

Part II turns to First Amendment jurisprudence to see whether it enables the government to address the challenges posed by the digital world so as to provide for a well-functioning political speech environment. It begins by describing the positive conception of the First Amendment, under which the state is viewed as having an affirmative role in protecting the democratic public sphere from the distortive influence of powerful private entities. Part II then offers a snapshot view of the current law of public discourse, focusing in particular on campaign finance regulation and the Moody decision, to show that the Court has largely abandoned the positive conception in favor of an approach that prohibits the government from ensuring a greater diversity of expression.

While the Court’s approach protects listeners from the power of the state, it gives rise to the troubling conundrum that the political speech environment is left unprotected not only from the dominant power of private tech giants but also from the deficits of the digital public sphere. Neither the state nor the platforms protect listeners from the effects of acute asymmetries of private power. Indeed, many regulatory responses to the challenges of digital exceptionalism would likely fall afoul of the First Amendment. For this reason, the sizeable gap between the normative ideal of a well-functioning political speech environment and the often disheartening reality of the digital public sphere cannot be closed by contemporary First Amendment doctrine.

In response to this conundrum, Part III makes an argument for “countervailance,” which is, in essence, the idea that certain mechanisms could counter, or at least lessen, these asymmetries in power and their resulting deficits such that listeners’ interests are better protected, even if that protection does not rise to the level of establishing the kind of equality needed for self-governance. I briefly consider a suite of countervailing mechanisms—including disclosure and transparency rules, a narrow prohibition of false election speech, strategies to manage deepfakes, state-led incentives structures and norms, public jawboning, and civil society efforts—that can be deployed by public entities, social media platforms, and civil society institutions. Given First Amendment constraints, however, these measures are necessarily modest in their scope and cannot serve as full-blown solutions to the challenges of digital exceptionalism.

I. A Well-Functioning Speech Environment and its Challenges

This Part sets out a normative account of a well-functioning political speech environment. It also argues for “digital exceptionalism”—the idea that the challenges faced by the digital public sphere are unique and may therefore require a tailored regulatory response. To ground the discussion, I begin with a brief overview of First Amendment values and doctrine as they apply to speakers and listeners.

A. Speakers, Listeners, and the First Amendment

In his philosophical examination of the freedom of expression, T.M. Scanlon identifies three groups of interests: those of participants, audiences, and bystanders.13See T.M. Scanlon, Jr., Freedom of Expression and Categories of Expression, 40 U. Pitt. L. Rev. 519, 520 (1979). Burt Neuborne’s Madisonian reading of the First Amendment likewise identifies a range of participants in a “neighborhood” of expressive freedom, including, most prominently, speakers and listeners.14See Burt Neuborne, Madison’s Music: On Reading the First Amendment 100 (2015). For Neuborne, listeners ought to be treated as equal partners, who, like speakers, require expressive freedom to develop their own identities and preferences.15See id. Speakers and listeners thus go hand in hand: the “free flow of ideas and information generated by autonomous speakers” is “essential to the ability of hearers to make the informed decisions on which the efficient functioning of choice-dependent institutions like democracy, markets, and scientific inquiry depend.”16Id. at 101.

In First Amendment doctrine, however, listener interests play a limited role; indeed, such interests are typically protected to the extent that they correspond to speaker interests.17See Derek E. Bambauer, The MacGuffin and the Net: Taking Internet Listeners Seriously, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 475, 477 (2019). To be sure, the underlying logic of the categorical approach to First Amendment jurisprudence—under which the Supreme Court has created tiers of speech based on the value of particular kinds of speech to public discourse—is implicitly oriented to the perspective of listeners.18See Elena Kagan, Private Speech, Public Purpose: The Role of Governmental Motive in First Amendment Doctrine, 63 U. Chi. L. Rev. 413, 476–77 (1996). For instance, political speech is afforded maximum protection because it provides indispensable information for citizens to fulfill their democratic roles, while libel is accorded no value because defamatory statements do not enhance, and indeed detract from, reasoned discourse.

The Supreme Court has also recognized that under the First Amendment, listeners may enjoy a “right to know” or an “independent right to receive information.”19Neuborne, supra note 14, at 103–04; Lamont v. Postmaster Gen. of U.S., 381 U.S. 301, 308 (1965) (Brennan, J., concurring); Kleindienst v. Mandel, 408 U.S. 753, 762–63 (1972). Indeed, the right of listeners to receive a free flow of information has served as the basis of the First Amendment’s protection of commercial and corporate speech.20Va. State Bd. of Pharmacy v. Va. Citizens Consumer Council, 425 U.S. 748, 771–72 (1976). However, in the face of the Court’s increasingly deregulatory posture toward commercial speech, critics have argued that rather than protecting listener interests, the Court has subordinated them to corporate speech rights.21See Morgan N. Weiland, Expanding the Periphery and Threatening the Core: The Ascendant Libertarian Speech Tradition, 69 Stan. L. Rev. 1389, 1415 (2017). Although speaker interests usually trump listener interests in the event of a conflict, there are some circumstances outside of public discourse in which listener interests can prevail. As Helen Norton explains, when “listeners have less information or power than speakers,” the law can prohibit speakers from providing false information or can require truthful disclosures with respect to, for example, consumer products or professional speech.22See Helen Norton, Powerful Speakers and Their Listeners, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 441, 441–42, 453 (2019). The Supreme Court’s deregulatory turn on compelled professional speech,23Nat’l Inst. of Fam. & Life Advocs. v. Becerra, 585 U.S. 755, 755 (2018). however, has created uncertainty about the status of a broad range of consumer-protective regulations.24See Alan K. Chen, Compelled Speech and the Regulatory State, 97 Ind. L.J. 881, 912–13 (2022).

For both speakers and listeners, there are three principal values that animate the First Amendment: democratic self-government; autonomy or self-fulfillment; and truth seeking through the marketplace of ideas.25See Thomas I. Emerson, Toward a General Theory of the First Amendment, 72 Yale L.J. 877, 878–79 (1963). An additional value proposed by Vincent Blasi—checking the abuse of power—also seems particularly relevant for democratic self-government.26See Vincent Blasi, The Checking Value in First Amendment Theory, 2 Am. Bar Found. Rsch. J. 521, 527 (1977). On this view, the freedoms of speech, assembly, and a free press provide a crucial countervailing force for checking the abuse of power by public officials.

However, there is considerable debate as to which value is predominant. According to Alexander Meiklejohn’s influential theory, the First Amendment is exclusively geared to producing a democratic system of government; hence, “[w]hat is essential is not that everyone shall speak, but that everything worth saying shall be said.”27Alexander Meiklejohn, Free Speech and Its Relation to Self-Government 25 (1948). Owen Fiss likewise argues that the “purpose of free speech is not individual self-actualization, but rather the preservation of democracy, and the right of a people, as a people, to decide what kind of life it wishes to live.”28Owen M. Fiss, Free Speech and Social Structure, 71 Iowa L. Rev. 1405, 1409–10 (1986). On this view, individual autonomy is simply a means to achieve collective self-determination.29See id.

For Robert Post, however, the value of autonomy is inseparable from democratic self-government because democracy depends on the active participation of citizens.30See Robert Post, Meiklejohn’s Mistake: Individual Autonomy and the Reform of Public Discourse, 64 U. Colo. L. Rev. 1109, 1120–21 (1993). Public discourse and free public debate—and, by extension, the autonomy of speakers—must be protected in service of democratic government.31See Robert Post, Equality and Autonomy in First Amendment Jurisprudence, 95 Mich. L. Rev. 1517, 1526–27 (1997). Some scholars place primacy on individual autonomy or self-realization apart from self-government,32See Martin H. Redish, The Value of Free Speech, 130 U. Pa. L. Rev. 591, 593 (1982). on the basis that, following Kant, all individuals possess the right to be treated as ends in themselves.33See Charles Fried, Speech in the Welfare State—The New First Amendment Jurisprudence: A Threat to Liberty, 59 U. Chi. L. Rev. 225, 233 (1992). Finally, the value of truth seeking emphasizes the First Amendment’s role in protecting, and indeed maximizing, the free flow of information, in order for society to better pursue the truth. As stated by Justice Holmes, “the best test of truth is the power of the thought to get itself accepted in the competition of the market.”34Abrams v. United States, 250 U.S. 616, 630 (1919) (Holmes, J., dissenting).

This Article takes the view, as expressed by Cass Sunstein, that the First Amendment is “fundamentally aimed at protecting democratic self-government.”35Cass R. Sunstein, Free Speech Now, 59 U. Chi. L. Rev. 255, 263 (1992); see also Cass R. Sunstein, The First Amendment in Cyberspace, 104 Yale L.J. 1757, 1762–63 (1995) [hereinafter Sunstein, Cyberspace]. The other values—autonomy, truth seeking, and checking the abuse of power—will be treated as serving the democracy value.

A related, but conceptually distinct, question concerns the role of the democratic state: should the government regulate speech in order to promote the democracy value? There are two competing constellations of ideas, which correspond roughly with the libertarian and egalitarian approaches to speech. The libertarian approach asserts that state regulation of speech is particularly dangerous for democracy. Speech itself is a form of power: it enables citizens to hold leaders to account and check the abuse of official power. Given state incentives to stifle dissent and criticism, content-based regulations of speech are prohibited save for a few tightly circumscribed and justified exceptions for particularly disfavored speech such as obscenity or libel.36See Cass R. Sunstein, Democracy and the Problem of Free Speech 1–51 (1st Free Press Paperback ed. 1995). The overall posture is one of distrust of government,37See Helen Norton, Distrust, Negative First Amendment Theory, and the Regulation of Lies, 22-07 Knight First Amend. Inst. 3 (Oct. 19, 2022), https://knightcolumbia.org/content/distrust-negative-first-amendment-theory-and-the-regulation-of-lies [https://perma.cc/8F46-R2LH]. in keeping with what Vincent Blasi has termed the “pathological perspective,” whereby the First Amendment is “targeted for the worst of times.”38Vincent Blasi, The Pathological Perspective and the First Amendment, 85 Colum. L. Rev. 449, 449–50 (1985). Under the libertarian approach, expressive liberties are best served by minimizing state regulation, thereby enhancing the free flow of information in the marketplace of ideas. In general, this constellation of ideas is associated with a negative rights approach to the First Amendment, under which the role of the state is to refrain from interfering with citizens’ freedom of speech.

The second, and opposing, constellation of ideas holds that the primary value of a system of free expression is to enable citizens to “to arrive at truth and make wise decisions, especially about matters of public import.”39Kagan, supra note 18, at 424. Under the egalitarian approach, listeners have an interest in being exposed to a wide range of competing views.40See id. at 423–25. However, due to certain factors, such as, for example, the cost of political advertising in the campaign finance context, the marketplace of ideas may be skewed toward elite viewpoints. Listeners would thus be deprived of hearing the full range of ideas and political preferences necessary to reach an informed decision. To ensure that listeners are fully informed, the government may have to impose restrictions in order for all points of view to have a roughly equal opportunity of being heard.41See id. As described in more detail below,42See infra text accompanying notes 94–103. this constellation of ideas is associated with a positive rights approach to the First Amendment, under which the government may have to take affirmative steps to protect individuals’ expressive freedoms.

B. A Normative Account of a Well-Functioning Speech Environment

As Justice Kagan observed, a “well-functioning sphere of expression” is “the whole project of the First Amendment.”43Moody v. NetChoice LLC, 603 U.S. 707, 732–33 (2024). But what does it mean to have such a sphere of expression?44For an alternative account of a well-functioning sphere of expression, see Joshua Cohen and Archon Fung, Democracy and the Digital Public Sphere, in Digital Technology and Democratic Theory (Lucy Bernholz et al. eds., 2021). Cohen and Fung offer an account of the informal public sphere (as opposed to formal political processes of elections and decision-making) which has five elements: rights to expression and association, fair opportunities to participate, access to information from reliable sources, a diversity of views, and the capacity for joint action arising from discussion. Id. at 29–30. This Article argues, as a normative matter, for the promotion of a well-functioning political speech environment for speakers and listeners, one that is free of domination and coercion, and in which acute asymmetries in political and economic power do not distort the capacity of individuals to engage in various self-governing activities, including the following:

(1) Informed Voting: individuals form opinions on public matters based on reliable information in both digital and non-digital mediums, with access to a wide array of competing viewpoints, thereby engaging in informed voting;

(2) Discussion and Deliberation: individuals engage in discussion and deliberation with other citizens whether online or in person as an integral and ongoing democratic practice necessary to self-governing activities, including but not limited to voting; and

(3) Meaningful Participation: individuals participate meaningfully in the democratic process through a variety of avenues, including voting, deliberating, associating with others whether online or in-person, organizing events, consuming or producing political content online, petitioning, and the like, thereby ensuring governmental responsiveness and accountability.

The idea is that democratic citizens should be able to participate in the democratic process with full knowledge and equal freedom.

To foster a healthy expressive realm for these self-governing activities, I further claim that the speech environment ought to protect individuals’ liberty, equality, epistemic, and nondomination interests. The protection of these interests, I suggest, is required to ensure that public discourse is organized and conducted in a manner that serves the value of democratic self-government. To be sure, there will inevitably be conflicts among these interests that would require certain choices and tradeoffs to be made.45For an argument about how the conflicting values of equality and liberty should be instantiated in law, see Yasmin Dawood, Democracy and the Freedom of Speech: Rethinking the Conflict Between Liberty and Equality, 26 Canadian J.L. & Juris. 293 (2013). These interests may also overlap in various ways such that a given outcome could be described as involving, say, both equality and epistemic considerations. While it is beyond the scope of this Article to provide a full account of these interests and their possible conflicts, a few preliminary observations follow.

As described above with respect to the libertarian approach, individuals’ liberty interests are best served by the robust protection of their expressive and associational freedoms under the First Amendment.46See supra text accompanying notes 36–38. Speakers ought to be able to freely express their political opinions and policy preferences, while listeners’ right to know should likewise be shielded from government censorship. In addition to their liberty interests, citizens have equality interests in being exposed to speech that reflects a wide range of competing views, ideas, and political preferences. As described above with respect to the egalitarian approach, the government may have to take affirmative steps to protect listeners’ equality interests in hearing a wide range of viewpoints because the marketplace of ideas may be skewed in favor of elite viewpoints.47See supra text accompanying notes 39–42. For an argument about how the conflicting values of equality and liberty should be instantiated in law, see Yasmin Dawood, Democracy and the Freedom of Speech: Rethinking the Conflict Between Liberty and Equality, 26 Canadian J.L. & Juris. 293 (2013). The speech environment should also protect citizens’ epistemic interests in receiving accurate and reliable information, which is required for reaching good judgments. As Melissa Schwartzberg observes, these epistemic interests ought to also be understood to encompass the kinds of institutions and instruments needed to develop, inform, and assess such judgments.48See Melissa Schwartzberg, Epistemic Democracy and Its Challenges, 18 Ann. Rev. Pol. Sci. 187, 201 (2015). To be sure, epistemic interests may overlap with equality intersts to the extent that good judgments depend upon an exposure to a wide range of viewpoints.

Finally, a healthy expressive environment should also protect democratic actors from domination or coercion. As Philip Pettit argues in his influential account of republican freedom, an individual has dominating power over another person to the extent that they have the capacity to interfere on an arbitrary basis in certain choices that the other is in a position to make.49See Philip Pettit, Republicanism: A Theory of Freedom and Government 52 (1997). An act of interference is arbitrary to the extent that the dominating agent is not forced to track the avowable or relevant interests of the victim but instead can interfere as their will or judgment dictates.50See id. at 55. Individuals’ nondomination interests broadly capture the idea that speakers and listeners ought to be protected from the capacity of powerful agents, whether public or private, to interfere arbitrarily in their choices.51For an elaboration of these ideas in the democratic context, see Yasmin Dawood, The Antidomination Model and the Judicial Oversight of Democracy, 96 Geo. L.J. 1411 (2008).

While these four interests—liberty, equality, epistemic, and nondomination—apply to all three self-governing activities, they take different forms depending on the context. In addition, the self-governing activities overlap in various ways: meaningful participation may require informed discussion, for example. The discussion below provides additional details for each self-governing activity.

  1. Informed Voting

Freedom of speech is a precondition for informed voting. As noted by the Supreme Court, the First Amendment has the objective of “securing . . . an informed and educated public opinion with respect to a matter which is of public concern.”52Thornhill v. Alabama, 310 U.S. 88, 104 (1940). Voters learn about the key issues at stake in the election, the differences among political candidates, and the main features of the platforms of various political parties. As Meiklejohn observes, the well-being of the political community depends on the wisdom of voters to make good decisions.53See Meiklejohn, supra note 27, at 24–25. For voters to make wise decisions, they must be aware, to the extent possible, of all the relevant facts, issues, considerations, and alternatives that bear upon their collective life.

Thus, a well-functioning political speech environment provides voters with epistemically reliable information on matters of public import from a wide range of competing sources and perspectives. For this to take place, speakers’ liberty interests must be fostered, and listeners’ equality, epistemic, and nondomination interests must be satisfied. Under these conditions, listeners as voters have access to the information they need to understand matters of public concern.

  1. Discussion and Deliberation

Discussion and deliberation are crucial activities for those individuals we formally deem to be speakers. However, listeners are also, at times, speakers. Listeners do not develop their views in a vacuum: the activities of discussion and deliberation require democratic listeners to engage with others as they evaluate matters of public importance. The idea here is one of active listening, which involves not just the passive receipt of information but requires discussion and debate. Informal conversations among listeners enable them to consider issues of public policy and to make up their minds about what is best for their common lives—activities that lie at the heart of self-government. The First Amendment is principally concerned with the “authority of the hearers to meet together, to discuss, and to hear discussed by speakers of their own choice, whatever they may deem worthy of their consideration.”54Alexander Meiklejohn, Political Freedom: The Constitutional Power of the People 119 (1966) (emphasis added).

As such, the normative account offered here departs in significant ways from Habermas’s formal account of ideal deliberation. Habermas’s theory of the “ideal speech situation” envisions a reasoned discussion among free and equal participants who aim for consensus by being persuaded by the force of the better argument.55See Jürgen Habermas, Discourse Ethics: Notes on a Program of Philosophical Justification, in Moral Consciousness and Communicative Action 89 (Christian Lenhardt & Shierry Weber Nicholsen, trans., 1990). Formal accounts of deliberative democracy, while differing in various respects, all tend to share a commitment to reaching collective decisions through public reasons, that is, reasons that are generally persuasive to all the participants in the deliberation.

However, in my view, this ideal form of deliberation is not mandatory in order to achieve a well-functioning sphere of expression. Instead, as John Dryzek observes, deliberation can include informal discussion, humor, emotion, and storytelling.56See John S. Dryzek, Deliberative Democracy and Beyond: Liberals, Critics, Contestations 1 (2000). Rather than requiring consensus, we should instead focus on the values of mutual respect, reciprocity, cooperation, and compromise.57See Amy Gutmann & Dennis Thompson, Democracy and Disagreement 346 (1996); James Bohman, Public Deliberation: Pluralism, Complexity, and Democracy 238 (2000); Jane Mansbridge, James Bohman, Simone Chambers, David Estlund, Andrea Føllesdal, Archon Fung, Cristina Lafont, Bernard Manin & José luis Martí, The Place of Self-Interest and the Role of Power in Deliberative Democracy, 18 J. Pol. Phil. 64, 94 (2010). That being said, a basic predicate of a well-functioning speech environment is that speakers and listeners can engage in discussion, debate, and deliberation free of coercion, harassment, and deception.

To be sure, deliberation has come under criticism for being exclusionary because it tends to favor advantaged citizens.58See Lynn M. Sanders, Against Deliberation, 25 Pol. Theory 347, 349 (1997). Critics have also charged that deliberation is simply unfeasible given the complexity of democratic institutions59See Ian Shapiro, Enough of Deliberation: Politics Is About Interests and Power, in Deliberative Politics: Essays on Democracy and Disagreement 28, 31 (Stephen Macedo ed., 1999). or is difficult to realize in practice given the realities of electoral campaigns.60See James A. Gardner, What are Campaigns For? The Role of Persuasion in Electoral Law and Politics 1, 86, 92–93, 115 (2009). In addition, deliberation may accentuate group polarization.61See Cass R. Sunstein, Why Societies Need Dissent 111–14 (2003). These criticisms underscore the need for a more capacious and inclusive understanding of deliberation.

  1. Meaningful Participation and Governmental Responsiveness

A well-functioning political speech environment must also facilitate meaningful participation by listeners and speakers. Participation can take many forms, including voting and deliberating, but can also include such activities as joining a political party, attending a town hall or a candidate rally, volunteering for a political cause, penning an op-ed, marching and protesting, organizing a petition, or running for office. Meaningful participation has online analogues, such as reading or posting messages on social media platforms, consuming or developing political content, reading or writing blogs, listening to podcasts, or running websites. Citizens engage in meaningful participation when they criticize public officials or government policies. Or when they join forces with like-minded others and vote for change. Or when they organize to influence public policy and legislation. All of these activities depend upon a robust sphere of expressive freedom.

Meaningful participation could also be understood as requiring a relatively equal opportunity to influence the outcome of an election. On this view, listeners as voters would have a strong interest in ensuring a somewhat level electoral playing field.62See Burt Neuborne, The Status of the Hearer in Mr. Madison’s Neighborhood, 25 Wm. & Mary Bill Rts. J. 897, 906 (2017). Meaningful citizen participation is also crucial for ensuring governmental responsiveness and accountability. By communicating and associating with one another, citizens can join together to vote for new political leaders. The threat of being removed from office in the next election is one of the most effective mechanisms for ensuring governmental accountability. A well-functioning speech environment is thus indispensable to ensure that state power is responsive to the interests of citizens.

C. Digital Exceptionalism

Does the digital public sphere provide the conditions necessary to foster a well-functioning political speech environment? In what follows, I identify the central features of what I shall call “digital exceptionalism,” the idea that the digital public sphere has distinctive features that not only distinguish it from the non-digital world but that also pose unique challenges for the promotion of a healthy expressive realm.

A principal challenge is that social media platforms wield vast “asymmetries of knowledge and power” over their users.63See Jack M. Balkin, Free Speech in the Algorithmic Society: Big Data, Private Governance, and New School Speech Regulation, 51 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 1149, 1162 (2018). The platforms act as private governors of online speech—enacting, implementing, and enforcing the rules that govern online expression.64See id. at 1197; Kate Klonick, The New Governors: The People, Rules, and Processes Governing Online Speech, 131 Harv. L. Rev. 1598, 1601–03 (2018). In addition, their power is remarkably concentrated: the digital public sphere is controlled in the main by three companies—Apple, Google, and Meta—that serve as the gatekeepers to online public discourse.65See Nikolas Guggenberger, Moderating Monopolies, 38 Berkeley Tech. L.J. 119, 121 (2023). To be sure, the media landscape in the pre-digital age was likewise highly concentrated: three networks shaped the news on television and a small handful of newspapers comprised the national market.66See Henry Farrell & Melissa Schwartzberg, The Democratic Consequences of the New Public Sphere, in Digital Technology and Democratic Theory 198 (Lucy Bernholz et al. eds., 2021). This concentration of pre-digital media power is likewise problematic for it undoubtedly reduced the plurality of differing points of view. However, certain mitigating features of the pre-digital public sphere are either absent, or greatly attenuated, in the digital world, and conversely, certain features unique to the digital world amplify the dangers posed by these power asymmetries. I briefly canvass a few of the relevant distinctions, noting, first, that these observations capture general trends and, second, that there are, of course, notable exceptions to each of these distinctions.

The first difference is that the pre-digital news media exerted a “strong gatekeeper” approach as compared to the “weak gatekeeper” approach of social media platforms.67See id. at 192. The traditional news media is bound by journalistic standards of objectivity and factual reliability. By contrast, social media platforms impose far fewer gatekeeping controls: while they filter certain prohibited topics such as graphic violence and pornography and rank or label other sorts of disfavored messages, there is far less ex ante quality control. Indeed, as of this writing, Meta has announced that it will eliminate fact checkers in the U.S. and rely instead on a “community notes” system similar to X (formerly Twitter).68See Our Approach to Political Content, Meta (Jan. 7, 2025), https://transparency.meta.com/features/approach-to-political-content [https://web.archive.org/web/20250207231253/https://transparency.meta.com/features/approach-to-political-content]. Research suggests, however, that community-based fact checking systems garner greater trust among users than professional fact-checking, in part because community notes provide additional information and context. See Chiara Patricia Drolsbach, Kirill Solovev & Nicholas Pröllochs, Community Notes Increase Trust in Fact-Checking in Social Media, 3 PNAS Nexus 1, 2, 9 (2024).

Second, as a result of this weak gatekeeping, there is said to be higher levels of misinformation on social media platforms. For example, Elon Musk’s false or misleading claims about elections accrued nearly 1.2 billion views on the social media platform X.69See David Ingram, Elon Musk’s Misleading Election Claims Have Accrued 1.2 Billion Views on X, New Analysis Says, NBC News (Aug. 8, 2024), https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/misinformation/elon-musk-misleading-election-claims-x-views-report-rcna165599 [https://perma.cc/7Q79-CYUH]. Recent empirical evidence suggests, however, that the degree of exposure to misinformation tends to be overstated with respect to the vast majority of users, at least in North America and Europe.70For an analysis of the empirical evidence, see Aziz Z. Huq, Islands of Algorithmic Integrity: Imagining a Democratic Digital Public Sphere, 98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1287, 1297–98 (2025). Jurisdictions that rely heavily on social media, however, may have different outcomes. For instance, digital misinformation has proved to be a serious challenge in Brazil, with 90% of Bolsonaro supporters believing at least one piece of fake news in 2018.71See Christopher Harden, Brazil Fell for Fake News: What to Do About It Now?, Wilson Ctr. (Feb. 21, 2019), https://www.wilsoncenter.org/blog-post/brazil-fell-for-fake-news-what-to-do-about-it-now [https://perma.cc/7Z6M-4GSH]. In addition, deepfake technology may pose significant challenges for public discourse in the future.72See Bobby Chesney & Danielle Citron, Deep Fakes: A Looming Challenge for Privacy, Democracy, and National Security, 107 Calif. L. Rev. 1753, 1786 (2019). This is particularly true as the capacity to generate deepfakes using generative AI will soon outstrip both the platforms’ and users’ ability to detect them.73See Commc’ns. Sec. Establishment, Cyber Threats to Canada’s Democratic Process 18 (2023). A counterpoint, however, is that AI was used extensively, reportedly in a largely successful manner, in India’s recent national election, wherein politicians connected with voters by including deepfake impersonations of candidates and deceased politicians in campaign materials.74See Vandinika Shukla & Bruce Schneier, Indian Election Was Awash in Deepfakes—But AI Was a Net Positive for Democracy, The Conversation (June 10, 2024), https://theconversation.com/indian-election-was-awash-in-deepfakes-but-ai-was-a-net-positive-for-democracy-231795 [https://perma.cc/JT4C-3HWN].

A third difference is that social media platforms create a loss of epistemic trust. The decline in trust, rather than truth, may ultimately prove to be more damaging to the public sphere. Experimental evidence suggests that while exposure to deepfakes did not mislead participants, it left them feeling uncertain about the truthfulness of content.75See Cristian Vaccari & Andrew Chadwick, Deepfakes and Disinformation: Exploring the Impact of Synthetic Political Video on Deception, Uncertainty, and Trust in News, 6 Soc. Media + Soc’y 1, 2 (2020). This uncertainty, in turn, led to lower levels of trust with respect to news on social media. Researchers surmise that an increase in political deepfakes “will likely damage online civic culture by contributing to a climate of indeterminacy about truth and falsity that, in turn, diminishes trust in online news.”76Id. Epistemic distrust “can severely undermine a sense of democratic legitimacy among large parts of society.”77See Gilad Abiri & Johannes Buchheim, Beyond True and False: Fake News and the Digital Epistemic Divide, 29 Mich. Tech. L. Rev. 59, 65 (2022). The decay of trust also benefits leaders with authoritarian impulses.78See Chesney & Citron, supra note 72, at 1786. By contrast, in the pre-digital world, misinformation in public discourse was counteracted by civil society organizations, in particular the traditional news media, which maintained common standards for accuracy and objectivity, thereby instilling widespread trust in epistemic authorities.79See Abiri & Buchheim, supra note 77, at 65–66.

Fourth, social media platforms generate “epistemic fragmentation”—the idea that citizens no longer share a common set of facts and understandings about political life.80See id. at 66–67. Social media platforms tailor content for each user, leading to what Sunstein has dubbed “the Daily Me.”81Sunstein, supra note 7, at 2. Platforms also enable political campaigns to engage in microtargeting so that political advertising messages vary depending on the race and gender of the recipient. By contrast, citizens under the traditional news media paradigm were more likely to engage with the same news stories.82See Abiri & Buchheim, supra note 77, at 66–67. This fragmentation has compounded challenges to epistemic trust because “citizens no longer trust the same sources of information, and the reliability of the sources they do trust varies substantially.”83Farrell & Schwartzberg, supra note 66, at 192.

A fifth difference is that social media platforms rely on behind-the-scenes algorithms to do the vast majority of content filtering, in an effort to provide listeners with the kind of filtered experience that each user is seeking.84See Jane Bambauer, James Rollins & Vincent Yesue, Platforms: The First Amendment Misfits, 97 Ind. L.J. 1047, 1068 (2022); James Grimmelmann, Listeners’ Choices, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 365, 378–79 (2019). Because the predominant characteristic of the expressive environment online is the scarcity of listener attention, an important “means of controlling speech is targeting the bottleneck of listener attention, instead of speech itself.”85See Tim Wu, Is the First Amendment Obsolete? Knight First Amend. Inst. at Colum. Univ. (Sep. 1, 2017), https://knightcolumbia.org/content/tim-wu-first-amendment-obsolete [https://perma.cc/Y5DM-BJUG]; Tim Wu, The Attention Merchants (2016). As a result of this algorithmic filtering, Erin Miller argues that media companies could exert “skewing power” over certain “consumers’ information pools in a way that prevents them from forming epistemically justified beliefs.”86Erin Miller, Media Power Through Epistemic Funnels, 20 Geo. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 873, 901 (2022).

Finally, social media platforms “were not created principally to serve democratic values and do not have as their lodestar the fostering of a well-informed and civically minded electorate.”87Persily, supra note 7, at 74. Instead, the platforms engage in “surveillance capitalism,” trading users’ behavioral data for vast profits.88See Zuboff, supra note 10, at 16. This behavioral advertising business model depends on maximizing the amount of time users engage with social media. A variety of deleterious phenomena are thus good for the bottom line, including addictive behavior, sensationalist and divisive content, and weakened privacy norms.89See Lina M. Khan & David E. Pozen, A Skeptical View of Information Fiduciaries, 133 Harv. L. Rev. 497, 505 (2019). Unlike the traditional news media, internet platforms “are not built to create a digital public sphere of common concern.”90Abiri & Buchheim, supra note 77, at 66–67. In addition, the platforms’ system of private governance threatens citizens’ opportunities to engage meaningfully in democratic participation, particularly in light of their lack of accountability to users.91See Klonick, supra note 64, at 1603.

These features of the digital public sphere, taken together, raise serious questions about whether the online speech market provides the conditions necessary to sustain a well-functioning political speech environment. As of this writing, the asymmetry of power between platforms and users has arguably been heightened by the intertwining of governmental and private tech interests. Because social media platforms exert asymmetrical power on users in a way that does not track the public interest, this gives rise to the apprehension that listeners’ interests in nondomination are not satisfied. By contrast, selection intermediaries that act in public-regarding ways, such as a well-run national broadcasting corporation, do not pose the same degree of risk. To be sure, traditional media could also exert dominating power on their listeners to the extent they are not forced to track listeners’ avowable interests in a well-functioning public sphere. What matters is whether the selection intermediary is upholding public-regarding standards such as the provision of accurate information and a diversity of competing viewpoints.

Digital exceptionalism does not mean that the government must intervene in a way that differs from its regulation of traditional news media. Instead, the distinctive features of the digital public sphere suggest that a specialized and tailored set of regulatory responses may be warranted to foster a well-functioning speech environment. Jack Balkin’s distinction between the “old-school” speech regulation of the predigital world and the “new school” speech regulation of digital intermediaries seems applicable.92See Jack M. Balkin, Old-School/New-School Speech Regulation, 127 Harv. L. Rev. 2296, 2306 (2014). Finally, the concerns raised here do not amount to a blanket condemnation of social media platforms. These platforms provide a range of goods such as entertainment, commerce, convenience, and connection that are rightly valued by consumers.

II. Law and the Speech Environment

To what extent is the normative account outlined in Part I reflected in First Amendment jurisprudence? Or to put the question another way: does the First Amendment offer any conceptual resources that would enable the government to respond to the challenges posed by digital exceptionalism? While it is beyond the scope of this Article to provide a comprehensive answer to these questions, this Part begins by briefly describing the positive conception of the First Amendment, under which the state’s role is to affirmatively protect the democratic public sphere from powerful private actors. Part II then offers a snapshot view of the current law of public discourse,93By “public discourse,” I mean speech that is relevant to the formation of public opinion and that deals with matters of public concern. See James Weinstein, Participatory Democracy as the Central Value of American Free Speech Doctrine, 97 Va. L. Rev. 491, 493 (2011). For an alternative interpretation of this concept, see Robert Post, Participatory Democracy and Free Speech, 97 Va. L. Rev. 477, 488 (2011) (arguing that the “boundaries of public discourse are inherently normative”). focusing in particular on campaign finance regulation and the Moody decision to show that the Supreme Court has for the most part abandoned the positive conception and, as a result, has significantly restricted the range of allowable regulatory responses to the deficits of digital exceptionalism.

A. The First Amendment as a Positive Right

A positive conception of the First Amendment, as mentioned above, holds that the government may have to take affirmative steps to protect expressive freedom from powerful private entities.94See supra text accompanying notes 39–42. Owen Fiss asserts, for instance, that “the impact that private aggregations of power have upon our freedom” means that “sometimes the state is needed simply to counteract these forces.”95Owen M. Fiss, The Irony of Free Speech 2–3 (1996). The state has a duty to “preserve the integrity of public debate” in order to “safeguard the conditions for true and free collective self-determination.”96Fiss, supra note 28, at 1416. In keeping with this duty, the state may have to intervene to protect the “robustness of public debate in circumstances where powers outside the state are stifling speech.”97Fiss, supra note 95, at 4. Sunstein argues for a “New Deal for speech” under which the supposed democratic interferences with the autonomy of private actors are not abridgements of speech; indeed, the autonomy of private actors is itself a product of law and may amount to an abridgment.98See Cass R. Sunstein, The Partial Constitution 202 (1993). As such, “what seems to be government regulation of speech might, in some circumstances, promote free speech, and should not be treated as an abridgment at all.”99Id. at 204.     

As Genevieve Lakier observes, the Supreme Court understood the freedom of speech as having a positive dimension during the New Deal and Warren Court eras.100See Genevieve Lakier, The First Amendment’s Real Lochner Problem, 87 U. Chi. L. Rev. 1241, 1247 (2020). That is, the First Amendment did not only provide individuals with personal expressive freedom; it also provided them with the means for democratic self-government.101See id. at 1333. For example, in Red Lion Broadcasting Co. v. FCC, the Supreme Court upheld, against a First Amendment challenge, the FCC’s fairness doctrine, which required broadcasters to provide adequate and fair coverage to public issues in a way that accurately captured competing viewpoints.102Red Lion Broad. Co. v. FCC, 395 U.S. 367, 375 (1969). The FCC repealed the fairness doctrine in 1987. According to the Court, the fairness doctrine furthered the “First Amendment goal of producing an informed public capable of conducting its own affairs.”103Id. at 392. However, in the ensuing years, the Court has largely abandoned the positive conception of

the First Amendment,104But see Turner Broad. Sys., Inc. v. FCC, 520 U.S. 180 (1997) (upholding against a First Amendment challenge must-carry rules requiring cable television networks to allocate some channels to local broadcast stations). including in the campaign finance context, as discussed below.

B. Public Discourse and Campaign Finance Regulation

The Supreme Court has interpreted the First Amendment as providing the highest possible protection to public discourse due to its centrality to self-government. One of the main ways in which public discourse—specifically electoral speech—is regulated is through campaign finance law.105The discussion that follows is drawn from Yasmin Dawood, The Theoretical Foundations of Campaign Finance Regulation, in The Oxford Handbook of American Election Law 817–42 (Eugene D. Mazo ed., 2024). In recent years, the Supreme Court has taken a deregulatory posture to campaign finance law, striking down significant parts of the legal infrastructure governing money in politics. This skepticism was apparent in an early landmark case, Buckley v. Valeo,106Buckley v. Valeo, 424 U.S. 1 (1976). in which the Court struck down limits on campaign expenditures because they were not justified by the government’s interest in preventing the actuality and appearance of corruption. In Buckley, the Court explicitly rejected the egalitarian—or equalization—rationale, stating that “the concept that government may restrict the speech of some elements of our society in order to enhance the relative voice of others is wholly foreign to the First Amendment.”107Id. at 48–49. Hence, the “governmental interest in equalizing the relative ability of individuals and groups to influence the outcome of elections” did not justify expenditure limits.108See id. at 49. The Buckley court found, however, that limits on campaign contributions were justified by the government’s interest in preventing corruption and its appearance. The provision of large contributions “to secure political quid pro quos from current and potential office holders” undermined the integrity of representative democracy.109See id. at 26–27.

In a subsequent decision, Austin v. Michigan State Chamber of Commerce,110Austin v. Mich. Chamber of Com., 494 U.S. 652 (1990), overruled by Citizens United v. FEC, 558 U.S. 310 (2010); see also FEC v. Mass. Citizens for Life, 479 U.S. 238, 257–58 (1986) (observing that the “corrosive influence of concentrated corporate wealth” may make “a corporation a formidable political presence, even though the power of the corporation may be no reflection of the power of its ideas”). the Supreme Court broadened the definition of corruption beyond quid pro quo corruption to encompass the concept of antidistortion which arose from the “corrosive and distorting effects of immense aggregations of wealth that are accumulated with the help of the corporate form and that have little or no correlation to the public’s support for the corporation’s political ideas.”111Austin, 494 U.S. at 660. The antidistortion concept was ultimately based on an equality rationale.112See, e.g., Stephen E. Gottlieb, The Dilemma of Election Campaign Finance Reform, 18 Hofstra L. Rev. 213, 229 (1989); Kathleen M. Sullivan, Political Money and Freedom of Speech, 30 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 663, 679 (1997). Concentrated corporate wealth gives certain voices far greater political influence than others due to the fact that speech is expensive.113See David Cole, First Amendment Antitrust: The End of Laissez-Faire in Campaign Finance, 9 Yale L. & Pol’y Rev. 236, 266 (1991). As a result of these inequities in speech capacities, listeners do not have access to the full range of views, which may affect their voting patterns and, hence, skew electoral outcomes. In McConnell v. FEC,114McConnell v. FEC, 540 U.S. 93 (2003) (quoting FEC v. Colo. Republican. Fed. Comm., 533 U.S. 431, 441 (2001)), overruled by Citizens United v. FEC, 558 U.S. 310 (2010). the Court held that corruption also encompassed the “undue influence on an officeholder’s judgment, and the appearance of such influence.”115Id. at 95. Undue influence arises when political parties sell special access to federal candidates and officeholders, thereby creating the perception that money buys influence. The undue influence standard is concerned with the skew in legislative, rather than electoral, outcomes.

The Supreme Court’s decision in Citizens United v. FEC,116Citizens United v. FEC, 558 U.S. 310 (2010). however, marked a turning point, implicating listener interests in at least four ways. First, the Supreme Court rejected Austin’s antidistortion rationale on the basis that it was actually an equalization rationale in violation of Buckley’s central tenet that the First Amendment prevents the government from restricting the speech of some in order to enhance the voice of others. The Court held that preventing quid pro quo corruption or the appearance thereof was the only governmental interest strong enough to overcome First Amendment concerns. Listener interests in the maintenance of a relatively level electoral playing field were undercut by this decision. In other cases, the Court has rejected equality-based arguments on the grounds that leveling the electoral playing field is impermissible under the First Amendment.117Davis v. FEC, 554 U.S. 724 (2008) (striking down on First Amendment grounds a federal statute that raised contribution limits for non-self-financed candidates who were running against wealthy self-financed opponents); Ariz. Free Enter. Club’s Freedom Club PAC v Bennett, 564 U.S. 721 (2011) (striking down on First Amendment grounds a state law that provided matching funds to publicly financed candidates in order to level the playing field by offsetting high levels of spending by privately funded opponents and independent committees).

Second, the Court held in Citizens United that corporations were henceforth allowed to spend unlimited sums from their general treasury funds as independent expenditures. According to the Court, independent expenditures do not give rise to the actuality or appearance of quid pro quo corruption. This reasoning gave rise to the emergence of Super PACs. In a subsequent case, SpeechNow.org v. FEC,118SpeechNow.org v. FEC, 599 F.3d 686 (D.C. Cir. 2010), cert. denied sub nom Keating v. FEC, 562 U.S. 1003 (2010). a lower court struck down contribution limits on PACs that engaged exclusively in independent spending—entities that are now known as Super PACs. Super PACs can accept unlimited contributions from individuals, corporations, and labor unions to fund independent ads supporting or opposing federal candidates. Listener interests are arguably undermined by the phenomenon of Super PACs: these entities have changed the political landscape by flooding huge sums of money into elections.119See Michael S. Kang, The Year of the Super PAC, 81 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 1902 (2013). Not only is coordination with candidates a reality,120See Richard Briffault, Super PACs, 96 Minn. L. Rev. 1644 (2012). For a contrary view, see Bradley A. Smith, Super PACs and the Role of “Coordination” in Campaign Finance Law, 49 Willamette L. Rev. 603, 635 (2013). but Super PACs lack accountability and transparency relative to political parties and candidates, thereby further decreasing the influence of individual listeners on the democratic process.

Some may argue, however, that the increases in corporate advertising, and hence in available information, are beneficial to listeners. Indeed, the Court majority in Citizens United took this position, stating that the “right of citizens to inquire, to hear, to speak, and to use information to reach consensus is a precondition to enlightened self-government and a necessary means to protect it.”121Citizens United, 558 U.S. at 339 (emphasis added). The Court also asserted that “it is inherent in the nature of the political process that voters must be free to obtain information from diverse sources in order to determine how to cast their votes.”122Id. at 341.

Third, Citizens United and the deregulatory turn it ushered in, has broader implications for democracy. Money skews legislative priorities because it provides legislative access to large donors and lobbyists.123See Lawrence Lessig, Republic, Lost: How Money Corrupts Congress—and a Plan to Stop It 16 (2011); Christopher S. Elmendorf, Refining the Democracy Canon, 95 Cornell L. Rev. 1051, 1055 (2010) (arguing that “electoral systems should render elected bodies responsive to the interests and concerns of the normative electorate, i.e., the class of persons entitled to vote”). While access does not guarantee legislative outcomes, it is required to exert political influence. As such, officeholders are disproportionately responsive to the wishes of large donors than to other constituents.124See Nicholas O. Stephanopoulos, Aligning Election Law 240–46 (2024). Empirical studies have shown, for instance, that elected representatives are more responsive to the preferences of the affluent than to the preferences of low-income and middle-income individuals.125See, e.g., Larry M. Bartels, Unequal Democracy: The Political Economy of the New Gilded Age (2d ed. 2008); Martin Gilens, Affluence and Influence: Economic Inequality and Political Power in America (2012). It should be noted, however, that this does not speak directly to the impact of campaign money on legislative decision-making. The emphasis on the donor class disproportionately impacts the participation and representation of people of color and ordinary citizens.126See Spencer Overton, The Donor Class: Campaign Finance, Democracy, and Participation, 153 U. Pa. L. Rev. 73 (2004). Empirical research has demonstrated that donors “are not only wealthy, they are almost all white.”127Abhay P. Aneja, Jacob M. Grumbach & Abby K. Wood, Financial Inclusion in Politics, 97 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 566, 569 (2022). This racial gap has an impact on representation by affecting the electoral candidate pool and the behavior of legislators in office.128Id. at 630.

Finally, listener interests were at issue in the Court’s holding that disclosure and disclaimer requirements survived exacting scrutiny. The Court found that disclosure was “justified based on a governmental interest in ‘provid[ing] the electorate with information’ about the sources of election-related spending.”129Citizens United v. FEC, 558 U.S. 310, 368 (2010) (citing Buckley v. Valeo, 424 U.S. 1, 66 (1976)). The transparency resulting from disclosure “enables the electorate to make informed decisions and give proper weight to different speakers and messages.”130Id. at 371. Abby Wood argues that disclosure provides multiple informational benefits for voters.131See Abby K. Wood, Learning from Campaign Finance Information, 70 Emory L.J. 1091, 1102 (2021). By contrast, critics argue that disclosure rules violate privacy and raise the risk of retaliation. In a recent decision, Americans for Prosperity Foundation v. Bonta,132Ams. for Prosperity Found. v. Bonta, 594 U.S. 595 (2021). however, the Supreme Court has made it easier for disclosure laws to be found unconstitutional.133Although Bonta is not a campaign finance case as it concerns disclosure by nonprofit organizations (and not candidates, parties, or PACs), it has clear implications for campaign finance disclosure laws. See Michael Kang, The Post-Trump Rightward Lurch in Election Law, 74 Stan. L. Rev. Online 55, 64–65 (2022); Abby K. Wood, Disclosure, in The Oxford Handbook of American Election Law 923, 924, 928–29 (Eugene D. Mazo ed., 2024).

C. Public Discourse and Social Media Platforms

In the campaign finance realm, listeners’ liberty interests in unrestricted access to the commercial speech market are protected. However, their equality interests in a relatively level electoral playing field are significantly undermined. A similar pattern is evident in the emerging law of social media platform regulation. Listeners’ liberty interests are largely protected on social media platforms given the sheer volume of information available, but their equality interests in a level electoral playing field, an open deliberative sphere, and access to competing viewpoints appear to be compromised in the online world. As described in Part I.C above, listeners’ epistemic and nondomination interests are likewise threatened as a result of the key features of digital exceptionalism.

In Moody v. NetChoice, LLC,134Moody v. NetChoice, LLC, 603 U.S. 707 (2024). the Court considered the constitutionality of state laws from Florida and Texas that restricted the ability of social media platforms to engage in content moderation. The laws required internet platforms to carry speech that might otherwise be demoted or removed due to the platforms’ content moderation policies.135Id. at 713–22. The laws also required a platform to provide an individualized explanation to any user whose posts had been altered or removed.136Id. The states’ underlying concern was that the platforms were politically biased and were unfairly silencing the voices of conservative speakers.137Id. at 740–41; NetChoice, LLC v. Att’y Gen., Fla., 34 F. 4th 1196, 1203 (11th Cir. 2022). NetChoice, an internet trade association, brought facial challenges to the laws. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit upheld a preliminary injunction, finding that the Florida law likely violated the First Amendment.138NetChoice, LLC, 34 F. 4th at 1227–28. However, the Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit reversed a preliminary injunction of the Texas law, partially on the basis that the platforms’ content moderation activities did not amount to speech, and hence did not infringe the First Amendment.139NetChoice, LLC v. Paxton, 49 F. 4th 439, 494 (2022).

Writing for the Supreme Court in Moody, Justice Kagan vacated the lower court decisions and remanded the cases, on the grounds that there was an insufficient record to sustain a facial challenge.140Moody, 603 U.S. at 713–18. While the Court was unanimous that NetChoice’s facial challenge had failed, Justice Kagan, speaking for a six-member majority,141Justice Kagan was joined by Chief Justice Roberts and Justices Sotomayor, Kavanaugh and Barrett in full and Justice Jackson in part. nonetheless proceeded to provide substantive guidance as to how the lower courts should conduct the facial analysis.

The Court majority’s central proposition was that the laws in question infringed the First Amendment rights of large social media platforms (specifically with respect to Facebook’s NewsFeed, YouTube’s homepage, and the like). Drawing an analogy to newspapers, the Court asserted that such platforms should be viewed as speakers with the right to compile and curate the speech of others. Justice Kagan relied on Miami Herald Publishing Company v. Tornillo,142Mia. Herald Pub. Co. v. Tornillo, 418 U.S. 241, 258 (1974). in which the Court had struck down a right-of-reply law that required newspapers to print the reply of any political candidate who received critical coverage in their pages. In Tornillo, the Court held that the First Amendment protects newspaper editors in their “exercise of editorial control and judgment.”143Id. at 258. The Court majority drew upon additional cases—involving a private utility’s newsletter (Pacific Gas and Electric Co. v. Public Utilities Commission of California),144Pac. Gas & Elec. Co. v. Pub. Util. Comm’n of Cal., 475 U.S. 1 (1986). must-carry rules for cable operators (Turner Broadcasting System, Inc. v. FCC),145Turner Broad. Sys., Inc. v. FCC, 512 U.S. 622 (1994). The Court noted that in a later decision, the regulation was upheld because it was necessary to protect local broadcasting. Turner Broad. Sys., Inc. v. FCC, 520 U.S. 180, 189–90 (1997). and regulations affecting parades (Hurley v. Irish-American Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Group of Boston, Inc.)146Hurley v. Irish-Am. Gay, Lesbian & Bisexual Grp. of Boston, Inc., 515 U.S. 557 (1995).—to find that the First Amendment prohibits the government from directing a private entity to include certain messages where that entity is curating the speech of others to create its own expressive product.147Moody v. NetChoice, LLC, 603 U.S. 707, 731–32, 742–43 (2024).

In the same way, the curating activity of social media platforms amounts to expressive activity protected by the First Amendment. Justice Kagan noted that Facebook’s News Feed and YouTube’s homepage use algorithms to create a personalized feed for each user.148Id. at 710. Their content moderation policies filter prohibited topics, such as pornography, hate speech, and certain categories of misinformation, and rank or label disfavored messages. In making these choices, social media platforms “produce their own distinctive compilations of expression.”149Id. at 716. The Moody majority thus appears to have resolved the debate as to whether platforms should be treated as publishers or as common carriers under the First Amendment (at least with respect to Facebook’s NewsFeed and the like).150See, e.g., Adam Candeub, Bargaining for Free Speech: Common Carriage, Network Neutrality, and Section 230, 22 Yale J.L. & Tech. 391 (2020); Eugene Volokh, Treating Social Media Platforms like Common Carriers?, 1 J. Free Speech L. 377 (2021); Ashutosh Bhagwat, Why Social Media Platforms Are Not Common Carriers, 2 J. Free Speech L. 127 (2022).

Consistent with the campaign finance context, the Court majority was adamant that the First Amendment prevents the state from interfering with “private actors’ speech to advance its own vision of ideological balance.”151Moody, 603 U.S. at 741. Government may not “decide what counts as the right balance of private expression,” and must instead “leave such judgments to speakers and their audiences.”152Id. at 719. This principle holds true even when there are credible concerns that certain private parties wield disproportionate expressive power in the marketplace of ideas. The majority noted that the regulations in Tornillo, PG&E, and Hurley “were thought to promote greater diversity of expression” and “counteract advantages some private parties possessed in controlling ‘enviable vehicle[s]’ for speech.”153Id. at 733 (citing Hurley v. Irish-Am. Gay, Lesbian & Bisexual Grp. of Boston, Inc., 515 U.S. 557, 577 (1995)). The Court also drew on its campaign finance jurisprudence, citing Buckley’s proposition that the government may not “restrict the speech of some elements of our society in order to enhance the relative voice of others.”154Id. at 742 (citing Buckley v. Valeo, 424 U.S. 1, 48–49 (1976)). Justice Kagan argued that “[h]owever imperfect the private marketplace of ideas, here was a worse proposal—the government itself deciding when speech was imbalanced, and then coercing speakers to provide more of some views or less of others.”155Id. at 733.

In a concurring judgment, Justice Alito (joined by Justices Thomas and Gorsuch) agreed with the majority’s facial unconstitutionality argument but took issue with the majority’s First Amendment analysis. Justice Alito argued that the states’ laws, at least in some of their applications, appeared to regulate passive carriers of third-party speech, which receive no protection under the First Amendment.156See id. at 788 (Alito, J., concurring). He criticized the majority for failing to address the states’ argument that Facebook and YouTube amount to common carriers,157See id. at 793–94 (Alito, J., concurring). as did Justice Thomas in a separate concurrence.158See id. at 751–52 (Thomas, J., concurring). Justice Alito also seemed more sympathetic to the states’ concerns, noting that the content moderation decisions of social media platforms can have “serious consequences,” including impairing “users’ ability to speak to, [and] learn from,” others; impairing a political candidate’s “efforts to reach constituents or voters”; compromising “the ability of voters to make a fully informed electoral choice”; and exerting “a substantial effect on popular views.”159Id. at 768 (Alito, J., concurring). He described the Florida law as an attempt “to prevent platforms from unfairly influencing elections or distorting public discourse,”160Id. at 770 (Alito, J., concurring). in a manner reminiscent of the very antidistortion arguments that were rejected by the conservative Justices in the campaign finance context.

III.  Possibilities for Countervailance

The Moody majority’s stance was consistent with a long line of precedent that has treated state control of speech with grave distrust. By “requir[ing] the platforms to carry and promote user speech that they would rather discard or downplay,”161Id. at 728. the states’ content moderation policies violated a central tenet that the government may not influence the content of speech. However, the Supreme Court’s interpretation of the First Amendment gives rise to a genuine conundrum: although this approach protects listeners from the power of the state, it does not protect the speech environment from the power of the platforms nor from the deficits that ensue from digital exceptionalism. Indeed, actions on the part of the state that would amount to an effective fix of the challenges of digital exceptionalism would very likely involve too great a governmental intrusion into expressive freedom. Hence, the gap between the ideal of a well-functioning speech environment and the challenges of digital exceptionalism cannot be resolved without dramatic changes to current First Amendment jurisprudence. As a result, there is a very narrow space for measures that might lessen the deleterious effects of digital exceptionalism without falling afoul of the First Amendment.

In light of this conundrum, this Part canvasses some possibilities for countervailance; that is, mechanisms that could lessen the deficits of the digital public sphere such that listeners’ interests are better protected, even if that protection does not rise to the level of establishing the kind of equality required for democratic self-governance. With respect to the challenge of disinformation in social media, I have argued elsewhere for a “multifaceted public-private approach that employs a suite of complementary tactics including: (1) disclosure and transparency laws; (2) content-based regulation and self-regulation; (3) norm-based strategies; and (4) civic education and media literacy efforts.”162Yasmin Dawood, Protecting Elections from Disinformation: A Multifaceted Public-Private Approach to Social Media and Democratic Speech, 16 Ohio State Tech. L.J. 639, 641 (2020). Using Canada as a case study, I suggested that the “combined and interactive effects of a multifaceted approach provide helpful protections against some of the harms of disinformation while still protecting the freedom of speech.”163Id. at 642.

A similar type of approach might be an appropriate way to think about countervailance. The idea is not that any one countervailing tactic will protect listener interests. Instead, the combined and interactive effects of a number of measures may serve as a countervailing force against the immense power of social media platforms. A caveat, however, is in order. These countervailing measures are imperfect, even deeply so, in terms of their ability to counter the challenges of digital exceptionalism. These measures will not on their own bring about a well-functioning speech environment; instead, they will bring such an environment closer to realization. Hence, the effect of this countervailance will no doubt be modest: listeners would still very much be at the mercy of the platforms. The objective would be to at least lessen the acuteness of the asymmetry and its resulting deficits.

Indeed, the majority opinion in Moody suggests that there are possibilities for regulation. Justice Kagan acknowledged, for instance, that “[i]n a better world, there would be fewer inequities in speech opportunities; and the government can take many steps to bring that world closer.”164Moody v. NetChoice, LLC, 603 U.S. 707, 741 (2024). Citing Turner I,165Turner Broad. Sys., Inc. v. FCC, 512 U.S. 622, 647 (1994) (protecting local broadcasting). Justice Kagan explicitly recognized that the “government can take varied measures, like enforcing competition laws, to protect th[e] access”166Moody, 603 U.S. 707 at 732–33. to information from many sources. In recent years, the federal government has been pursuing antitrust cases against Google, Meta, and Amazon. The Court majority also noted that “[m]any possible interests relating to social media” can meet the First Amendment intermediate scrutiny test.167Id. at 711 (citing United States v. O’Brien, 391 U.S. 367, 377 (1968)). Under intermediate scrutiny, a law must advance a “substantial governmental interest” that is “unrelated to the suppression of free expression.” Id. The Court was pointed in its assertion that “nothing said here puts regulation of NetChoice’s members off-limits as to a whole array of subjects.”168Id. at 740.

In what follows, I briefly canvass an array of countervailing mechanisms, including disclosure and transparency rules; a narrow prohibition of false election speech; strategies to manage deepfakes; state-led incentive structures and norms, including mechanisms to provide listeners with increased choices and powers of their own; public jawboning; and civil society efforts. Each of these measures warrants a far more extensive treatment—particularly with respect to their advantages and disadvantages—than I am able to offer here. Although it is beyond the scope of this brief discussion to attempt anything more than a cursory analysis, I hope that it nonetheless provides some indication of the kinds of possibilities that merit attention.

A. Disclosure and Transparency

As described above, disclosure provides multiple informational benefits for voters, including not only the content of the disclosures but also their quality and the amount of information provided.169See Wood, supra note 131, at 1102. Disclosure and disclaimers with respect to online political advertising would help to facilitate counterspeech and deter disinformation.170See Abby K. Wood, Facilitating Accountability for Online Political Advertisements, 16 Ohio State Tech. L.J. 520, 523–24 (2020). Disclosure would also provide listeners with the context they need to assess political advertising. That being said, the disclosure regimen in the campaign finance context is subject to various limitations, including structural barriers to connecting disclosures to voters and enforcing disclosure rules against violators.171See Jennifer A. Heerwig & Katherine Shaw, Through a Glass, Darkly: The Rhetoric and Reality of Campaign Finance Disclosure, 102 Geo. L.J. 1443, 1486, 1498 (2014). Disclosure rules have also been criticized for violating privacy, raising the risk of retaliation, chilling speech, and discouraging political participation.172See, e.g., Richard Briffault, Two Challenges for Campaign Finance Disclosure After Citizens United and Doe v. Reed, 19 Wm. & Mary Bill Rts. J. 983, 988–92, 1013–14 (2011).

Outside of the campaign finance context, online platforms could increase transparency about the content curation decisions they make. Transparency requirements are also an appropriate regulatory response to political disinformation.173See Wood, supra note 170, at 539–40. Compared to other regulatory responses, transparency laws have various benefits: they provide additional information to consumers, allow for public accountability, and nudge companies to make better decisions in anticipation of public disclosure.174See Eric Goldman, The Constitutionality of Mandating Editorial Transparency, 73 Hastings L.J. 1203, 1206 (2022). In his concurring opinion in Moody, Justice Alito remarked that the platforms are providing various disclosures under the European Union’s Digital Services Act, and that “complying with that law does not appear to have unduly burdened each platform’s speech in those countries.”175Moody v. NetChoice, LLC, 603 U.S. 707, 797–98 (2024) (Alito, J., concurring). Justice Alito further suggested that courts on remand should investigate whether such disclosures chilled the platforms’ speech.

B. False Election Speech

In general, falsehoods and lies are constitutionally protected speech.176See N.Y. Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254, 279–83 (1964). As Sunstein observes, “[p]ublic officials should not be allowed to act as the truth police” because if they are empowered to “punish falsehoods, they will end up punishing dissent.”177Cass R. Sunstein, Liars: Falsehoods and Free Speech in an Age of Deception 3 (2021). There are, of course, a few narrow exceptions to the general rule that false statements are protected speech, such as, for example, regulations concerning defamation and false or misleading advertising.

The best response to false speech is not censorship but counterspeech. As the Supreme Court plurality noted in United States v. Alvarez, “[t]he remedy for speech that is false is speech that is true. This is the ordinary course in a free society.”178United States v. Alvarez, 567 U.S. 709, 727 (2012). Abby Wood observes that as a remedy for disinformation, counterspeech “fits well in the court’s ‘marketplace of ideas’ theory of the First Amendment.”179Wood, supra note 170, at 541. Lies stated by a candidate during an election campaign should likewise be addressed by the counterspeech of the candidate’s political opponent.180See Eugene Volokh, When Are Lies Constitutionally Protected?, 4 J. Free Speech L. 685, 704 (2024). That being said, counterspeech is often ineffective given the realities of echo chambers and the partisan divide in the news media.

Although restrictions on false speech are generally unconstitutional, a narrowly drawn prohibition of false election speech aimed at disenfranchising voters might survive constitutional scrutiny.181See Richard L. Hasen, Deep Fakes, Bots, and Siloed Justices: American Election Law in a “Post-Truth” World, 64 St. Louis U. L.J. 535, 548 (2020). Such a prohibition would target the mechanics of voting. Indeed, in Minnesota Voters Alliance v. Mansky, the Supreme Court indicated that false speech about when and how to vote could be banned by the government.182Minn. Voters All. v. Masky, 585 U.S. 1 (2018). The government’s compelling interest in protecting the right to vote could serve as the justification for the law. An additional consideration is that false speech about the mechanics of voting would be difficult to redress with counterspeech particularly in the few days leading up to an election.183See Volokh, supra note 180, at 707.

C.  Deepfakes and AI

Deepfake technology poses serious threats of harm to democracy, including by distorting public discourse, eroding citizens’ trust in news media, and manipulating elections.184See Chesney & Citron, supra note 72, at 1777. There have been several attempts to regulate deepfakes by the states,185See Jack Langa, Deepfakes, Real Consequences: Crafting Legislation to Combat Threats Posed by Deepfakes, 101 B.U. L. Rev. 761, 786 (2021). such as legislation in California and Texas that prohibited the use of deepfakes within a designated pre-election period.186See Yinuo Geng, Comparing “Deepfake” Regulatory Regimes in the United States, the European Union, and China, 7 Geo. L. Tech. Rev. 157, 162–63 (2023). However, deepfakes are better regulated—by both public officials and private entities—through disclosure and counterspeech rather than by outright bans.187See Sunstein, supra note 177, at 117. Disclosure requirements could, for example, label deepfakes as “altered.”188Hasen, supra note 7, at 27.

To be sure, there are real dangers to having the government determine what is true and false, which suggests that laws regulating deepfakes should be treated with caution. If platforms on their own accord institute deepfake bans, they should exempt parody, education, or art, and should provide accountability to users for any speech that is suppressed, including a meaningful opportunity to contest the decision.189See Chesney & Citron, supra note 72, at 1818.A growing challenge facing both public and private interventions, however, is that it will become increasingly difficult to detect deepfakes, particularly given the availability of generative AI.190See Communications Security Establishment, supra note 73, at 18. As the technology advances, the capacity to create deepfakes “will diffuse and democratize rapidly.”191Chesney & Citron, supra note 72, at 1762.

D. Incentives and Norms

The government can also use incentive structures to pressure platforms into making responsible choices about the democratic public sphere. For example, online platforms are protected from liability for hosting third-party content under Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act—a protection that arguably encourages platforms to moderate harmful speech and thereby perform a task that the government is not permitted to do.192See Erwin Chemerinsky & Alex Chemerinsky, The Golden Era of Free Speech, in Social Media, Freedom of Speech, and the Future of Our Democracy 92 (Lee C. Bollinger & Geoffrey R. Stone eds., 2022). Platforms may also be motivated to respond to harmful content out of a concern that the government could amend Section 230 if they fail to take action (although this eventuality is, of course, dependent on the priorities of the incumbent administration).193See Chesney & Citron, supra note 72, at 1813. The Digital Services Act promulgated by the European Union provides a more extensive regulatory model, one that is unlikely to be adopted in the U.S. It imposes several mandatory obligations on platforms, including transparency, notice-and-takedown systems, internal complaint handling systems, deplatforming, and independent auditing.194Council Regulation, 2022/2065, arts. 14, 16, 20, 23, 39, 2022 O.J. (L 277) 1 (EU).

The government could also create incentives for platforms to provide users with greater control over the content they receive. Many platforms already enable users to block or mute content they do not wish to see. However, they could take additional steps to enable users to actively moderate their own feeds.195See Bambauer, Rollins & Yesue, supra note 84, at 1069. In addition, the government could impose data interoperability requirements, thereby enabling users to easily move their data across platforms.196See Khan & Pozen, supra note 89, at 538–39. Platforms that violate users’ rights would lose followers in favor of rival platforms with healthier environments.197See id. To be sure, greater user control could also lead to greater epistemic fragmentation if users choose to avoid competing viewpoints.

Public-regarding behavior could be indirectly encouraged by such mechanisms as digital charters.198See Dawood, supra note 162, at 663–65. These public-private norm-based initiatives “identify standards, best practices, and objectives to govern the digital world.”199Id. at 663. For example, the Declaration of Electoral Integrity, an initiative between the Canadian government and the major platforms, endorsed the values of integrity, transparency, and authenticity as the pillars of a healthy political discourse.200See id. at 663–64. Another initiative, the Digital Charter, identified ten principles, including universal access; safety and security; control and consent; transparency, portability and interoperability; a level playing field; strong enforcement and real accountability.201See id. at 665. Although these norm-based approaches were not legally binding, they identified democracy-enhancing norms that could serve as a “standard by which to judge actions taken or not taken.”202Id.

E. Public Jawboning

Can public jawboning play a salutary role as a countervailance mechanism? A recent Supreme Court decision, Murthy v. Missouri,203Murthy v. Missouri, 603 U.S. 43 (2024). involves what is colloquially referred to as “jawboning,” which takes place when the government pressures private actors to take certain actions without directly using its coercive power to do so. In Murthy, the record revealed that, over the last few years, White House and other federal officials had routinely communicated with social media platforms about misinformation related to COVID-19 vaccines and electoral processes. Some of these communications were public: government officials, in response to vaccine misinformation on the platforms, opined that reforms to antitrust laws and to Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act may be in order.204See id. at 51–52. Other communications were private: officials in the White House, CDC, FBI, and CISA “regularly spoke” with platforms about misinformation over several years.205See id. at 51. The District Court for the Western District of Louisiana had issued a preliminary injunction, which was affirmed by the Fifth Circuit, on the basis that government officials had “coerced or significantly encouraged” the platforms to censor disfavored speech in violation of the First Amendment.206Missouri v. Biden, 83 F. 4th 350, 392 (5th Cir. 2023).

In a 6-3 majority opinion by Justice Barrett, the Supreme Court overturned the Fifth Circuit’s decision on standing grounds.207See Murthy, 603 U.S. at 58–62. Justice Barrett also rejected the plaintiffs’ “right to listen” theory—which asserted that the First Amendment protects the interest of social media users to engage with the content of other social media users—on the grounds that it provided a “startlingly broad” right to users to “sue over someone else’s censorship.” Id. at 74–75. Dissenting in Murthy, Justice Alito (joined by Justices Thomas and Gorsuch) asserted that the issue was whether the government engaged in “permissible persuasion” or “unconstitutional coercion.”208Id. at 98–100 (Alito, J., dissenting). While the government may inform and persuade, it is barred under the First Amendment from coercing a third party into suppressing another person’s speech.209See id. (Alito, J., dissenting) (citing Bantam Books, Inc. v. Sullivan, 372 U.S. 58, 67 (1963)). Drawing on the Court’s approach in National Rifle Association v. Vullo,210Nat’l Rifle Ass’n v. Vullo, 602 U.S. 175, 189–90 (2024). Justice Alito analyzed three factors—the authority of the government officials; the nature of the statements made by those officials; and the reactions of the third party alleged to have been coerced—to find that the government had engaged in coercion.211See id. at 100–07 (Alito, J., dissenting).

Ashutosh Bhagwat draws a helpful distinction between public jawboning and private jawboning: while public jawboning should rarely be considered coercive, in large part because government actors routinely hector corporations and often do so as part of their official responsibilities, private jawboning can sometimes amount to unconstitutional coercion.212See Ashutosh Bhagwat, The Bully Pulpit or Just Plain Bully: The Uses and Perils of Jawboning, 22 First Amend. L. Rev. 292, 306 (2024). However, “[d]etermining when private jawboning crosses the constitutional line . . . raises extremely difficult questions,” which require courts to engage in a highly contextual analysis.213Id. at 310. Justice Alito contended, for instance, that while the coercion in Murthy was “more subtle than the ham-handed censorship found to be unconstitutional in Vullo . . . it was no less coerceive.”214Murthy, 603 U.S. at 80 (Alito, J., dissenting). The danger is that if “a coercive campaign is carried out with enough sophistication, it may get by.”215Id. Ilya Somin catalogues the various ways in which government agencies post-Murthy can ensure that their pressure tactics avoid judicial scrutiny.216See Ilya Somin, The Supreme Court’s Dangerous Standing Ruling in Murthy v. Missouri, Reason.com: The Volokh Conspiracy (June 26, 2024, 5:57 PM), https://reason.com/volokh/2024/06/26/the-supreme-courts-dangerous-standing-ruling-in-murthy-v-missouri [https://perma.cc/64XB-E7FV].

Despite these legitimate concerns, there may be a role for public, but not private, jawboning to serve as a countervailing force against the power of the tech giants. Helen Norton’s “transparency principle”—namely, “an insistence that the governmental source of a message be transparent to the public”—could serve as a guide.217See Helen Norton, The Government’s Speech and the Constitution 30 (2019). As Norton observes, the “government’s speech is most valuable and least dangerous to the public when its governmental source is apparent: only then is the government’s speech open to the public’s meaningful credibility and accountability checks.”218Id. In an August 2024 letter to Congress, Mark Zuckerberg was unequivocal that Meta would no longer compromise its content standards in response to government pressure.219See Letter from Mark Zuckerburg, Founder, Chairman & CEO of Meta Platforms, Inc. to the Hon. Jim Jordan, Chairman, Comm. on the Judiciary, United States House of Reps. (Aug. 26, 2024). Indeed, Meta later announced the adoption of a new content moderation protocol that, among other things, removed restrictions on topics such as immigration and gender identity. If other platforms follow Meta’s lead, the protection (or not) of listener interests would be even more subject to the platforms’ decisions. Provided that the government’s use of public jawboning does not violate Vullo’s standards for coercion, it may prove to be a useful measure to protect users from the overwhelming power of the platforms.

F. Civil Society and the State

Civil society can also play a countervailing role. Truth-finding institutions, such as journalists and political activists, can combat false statements in an iterative process akin to the scientific method.220See Volokh, supra note 180, at 696–98. Collaborations between platforms and outside researchers could also lead to better responses for online misinformation.221See Ceren Budak, Brendan Nyhan, David M. Rothschild, Emily Thorson & Duncan J. Watts, Misunderstanding the Harms of Online Misinformation, 630 Nature 45, 45 (2024). More generally, the concept of “knowledge institutions,” as developed by Vicki Jackson, captures the indispensable contribution of public and private entities, including universities, government agencies, libraries, and the press, to the collection and dissemination of knowledge needed for democratic self-governance.222See Vicki C. Jackson, Knowledge Institutions in Constitutional Democracies: Preliminary Reflections, 7 Canadian J. Compar. & Contemp. L. 156 (2021); see also Heidi Kitrosser, Protecting Public Knowledge Producers, 4 J. Free Speech L. 473 (2023).

The state can bolster the speech environment by supporting knowledge institutions. Over the last several decades, the federal government has fostered the public sphere by enacting legislation to support newspapers, establishing a system of broadcast licenses, regulating cable, and implementing antitrust laws.223See Martha Minow, Saving the News: Why the Constitution Calls for Government Action to Preserve Freedom of Speech 42–57 (2021). With respect to the threats currently facing private news organizations, Martha Minow argues that “[n]othing in the Constitution forecloses government action to regulate concentrated economic power . . . or strengthen public and private investments in the news functions presupposed by democratic governance.”224Martha Minow, Does the First Amendment Forbid, Permit, or Require Government Support of News Industries?, in Constitutionalism and a Right to Effective Government? 86 (Vicki C. Jackson & Yasmin Dawood eds., 2022). Minow further suggests that the “First Amendment’s presumption of an existing press may even support an affirmative obligation on the government to undertake reforms and regulations to ensure the viability of a news ecosystem.”225Minow, supra note 223, at 98. Emily Bazelon proposes that federal and state governments could create publicly funded TV or radio, in addition to funding nonprofit journalism.226See Emily Bazelon, The Disinformation Dilemma, in Social Media, Freedom of Speech, and the Future of Our Democracy 41, 49 (Lee C. Bollinger & Geoffrey R. Stone eds., 2022). To be sure, the independence of news organizations must be protected by

various mechanisms so that the government cannot control the media it funds and supports.227See Minow, supra note 223, at 138–42.

Finally, community participation in regulating online platforms may also improve the speech environment. For example, Reddit is internally governed by volunteer moderators, who establish and enforce rules about what conduct is permitted or prohibited in each subcommunity.228See Ethan Zuckerman, The Case for Digital Public Infrastructure, Knight First Amend. Inst. at Colum. Univ. (Jan. 17, 2020), https://knightcolumbia.org/content/the-case-for-digital-public-infrastructure [https://perma.cc/F5EX-XTKV]. These moderators often put in “dozens of hours a week to ensure that content meets community standards and that participants understand why their content was permitted or banned.”229Id. Although Reddit is by no means perfect, it may be an example of what Aziz Huq has described as an “island of algorithmic integrity”; that is, a model of a well-functioning social media platform that acts in public-regarding ways and may thereby shift norms and expectations.230See Huq, supra note 70, at 1301–03.

Conclusion

This Article has offered a normative account of a well-functioning speech environment for speakers and listeners, under which individuals engage in three self-governing activities—informed voting; discussion and deliberation; and meaningful participation—while having their liberty, equality, epistemic, and nondomination interests satisfied. It also argued for digital exceptionalism—the idea that the expressive realm on social media platforms suffers from certain unique deficits that not only undermine the speech environment but that also pose challenges for regulation. The Article then turned to the law of public discourse, focusing on campaign finance regulation and the Moody decision, to find that First Amendment jurisprudence provides few conceptual resources to protect listeners’ equality, epistemic, and nondomination interests. Finally, the Article argued for countervailance, which is the idea that certain mechanisms could lessen the deficits of the online realm such that listener interests are better protected.

To be sure, there continues to be great uncertainty about how digital technologies will evolve over time and what new difficulties they will pose. The rapidly changing landscape of social media technology poses genuine challenges for regulation. While the Moody majority insisted that free speech principles do not change despite the challenges of applying them to evolving technology, the concurring Justices expressed reservations about how evolving algorithmic and AI technology would be covered by the First Amendment. For example, Justice Barrett queried whether there was a difference between an algorithm that did the curation on its own versus an algorithm that was directed by humans.231Moody v. NetChoice, LLC, 603 U.S. 707, 745–48 (2024) (Barrett, J., concurring). Justice Alito noted that the vast majority of the content moderation on the platforms is performed by algorithms, and now that AI algorithms are being used, the platforms may not even know why a particular content moderation decision was reached.232See id. at 793–95 (Alito, J., concurring). He asked: “Are such decisions equally expressive as the decisions made by humans? Should we at least think about this?”233Id. (Alito, J., concurring); see also Toni M. Massaro & Helen Norton, Siri-ously? Free Speech Rights and Artificial Intelligence, 110 Nw. U. L. Rev. 1169, 1174 (arguing that AI speakers should be covered by the First Amendment due to the value of their speech to humans and the risk of government suppression). It is fair to say that much work remains to be done when considering how best to protect and promote a well-functioning political speech environment.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1193

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* Professor of Law and Political Science, and Canada Research Chair in Democracy, Constitutionalism, and Electoral Law, Faculty of Law, University of Toronto; J.D. Columbia Law School, Ph.D. (Political Science) University of Chicago. I am very grateful to Ashutosh Bhagwat, Daniel Browning, James Grimmelmann, Aziz Huq, Michael Kang, Heidi Kitrosser, Erin Miller, Helen Norton, Eugene Volokh, Abby Wood, and the participants at the Listener Interests Symposium at USC Gould School of Law and the Public Law Colloquium at Northwestern Pritzker School of Law for very helpful comments and conversations. Special thanks to David Niddam-Dent for excellent research assistance and to the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their valuable editorial work.

In the Name of Accountability

Introduction

The Supreme Court has increasingly embraced legal doctrines that empower elected officials to hide politically inconvenient information and ideas from the American people. Two lines of precedent illuminate this phenomenon and its reach across seemingly disparate areas of the case law. The first is a development in First Amendment law known as government speech doctrine and the closely related rule that public employees receive no First Amendment protection for their work product speech—that is, for anything that they write or say while doing their jobs. This precedent puts at risk the ability of public employees or publicly subsidized experts—ranging from auditors hired to ferret out agency misconduct to scientists commissioned to study and report on changing climate patterns—to convey truthful information and competent, good faith analyses consistent with disciplinary and professional norms. The second line of precedent is the aspect of separation of powers law known as unitary executive theory (“UE theory,” “UE,” or “unity”). UE proponents argue that the president must fully control all discretionary executive activity in the United States, at minimum through an unfettered removal power. This jeopardizes the independence of federal actors who are charged with research and reporting on matters ranging from public corruption to public health.

The two doctrines not only have similar impacts on information and analysis in the United States, but also share a common rationale: political accountability. Proponents of government speech doctrine emphasize that the people can respond to government speech at the ballot box, rewarding elected officials for speech that they like or punishing them when they dislike what they hear. As for UE theory, supporters emphasize that the president is the only elected official in the federal executive branch. Indeed, they describe the president as more politically accountable than anyone else holding elected office in the United States, as the president alone is subject to nationwide election. It is crucial, they argue, that the president alone exercises discretionary executive power so that the people know whom to blame or reward electorally for the use of such power. Similarly, they brush away concerns about presidential abuses by stressing the ability of the people to punish transgressions at the ballot box.

The judiciary is far from alone in crafting and buttressing these schools of thought. To the contrary, UE theory was shaped and heavily promoted by the modern conservative legal movement well before the Roberts Court embraced it. Indeed, even as the Supreme Court rejected UE theory in the 1988 case of Morrison v. Olson, the Justice Department under Attorney General Meese relied on it internally and championed it externally along with the then-nascent Federalist Society. Today, with the support of the Supreme Court, and with Donald Trump retaking the presidency and characterizing career experts across government as parts of a rogue “deep state,” UE theory and its accountability rationale have more influence than ever.

Although, to my knowledge, no similarly probing intellectual history has been done with respect to government speech doctrine, the doctrine aligns intuitively with classic complaints about how Americans’ tax dollars are spent, including on public education, public broadcasting, and other forms of knowledge production. Such gripes are not intrinsically partisan, but they can be marshalled in a partisan fashion when framed as appeals to stop “wrongheaded” or “offensive” views from being supported by public funds. Over the past several years, we have indeed seen campaigns, in both legal and political realms, for elected officials to control the communicative output of a range of government programs. These campaigns often characterize civil servants as parts of a leftist deep state, echoing the rhetoric of unitary executive theorists. Their targets include elementary school teachers, college professors, and librarians whom they deem “woke” and indoctrinating. The major thread of argument in these political and legal attacks has been accountability—specifically, the notion that the electorate, through elected representatives, should get the final word on the content of publicly funded knowledge production. Framed in legal terms, the argument is that all such output is the government’s own speech.

Yet even as accountability serves as a rallying cry for proponents of UE theory and government speech doctrine, there is a profound tension between that call to arms and the negative impacts of both government speech doctrine and UE theory on the information ecosystem. This tension stems from two very different visions of accountability. Government speech and unitary executive arguments each focus on a thin vision of accountability, one that I have elsewhere called “formal accountability.” Formal accountability requires only that there exist some means, mainly the ballot box, by which the public can accept or reject officials.1Those officials include the president, in the case of unitary executive theory, and the officials behind any given instance of government expression in the case of government speech doctrine.

A more robust vision of accountability—one that I label “substantive accountability”—recognizes that accountability “is a ‘they,’ not an ‘it.’ ”2See Kenneth A. Shepsle, Congress Is a “They,” Not an “It”: Legislative Intent as Oxymoron, 12 Int’l Rev. L. & Econ. 239, 244 (1992). Indeed, the casting of a single vote for an official—even assuming the opportunity to vote for or against them again some number of years later—is too blunt an instrument to constitute considered approval of all manner of decision whether big or small, technical or non-technical, anticipated or unanticipated. Rather, holding officials accountable entails countless acts over time, ranging from legislative oversight to internal and external whistleblowing to fearless investigative journalism. All of these acts—including, but not limited to, voting—require the gathering and exchange of information and ideas. In the longer-term, they require a knowledge ecosystem that reliably produces such communications and supports a citizenry capable of assessing them. If one’s goal is substantive accountability, then government speech doctrine and UE theory are woefully inadequate to achieve it. To the contrary, they profoundly undermine it, especially when they are interpreted broadly.

Given the growing importance of UE theory and government speech doctrine in both legal and political realms, it is more important now than ever to understand how they undermine, rather than protect, meaningful, substantive accountability. Viewing these two schools of thought together also helps us to see how doctrines across seemingly disparate areas of the law can interact with and buttress one another and be harnessed by partisan interests.

In Part I of this Article, I summarize the respective accountability-based cases for UE theory and government speech doctrine. I explain that each rationale is premised on a simplistic, formal vision of accountability. In contrast, I argue that substantive accountability, which is antithetical to UE theory and to broad interpretations of government speech doctrine, is more faithful to constitutional principles and more desirable as a practical matter. In Part II, I elaborate on and illustrate the points made in Part I by drawing from the major Supreme Court cases on UE theory and government speech doctrine. In Part III, I present several examples of how UE theory and government speech doctrine have been wielded in the courts and the political branches to undermine substantive accountability. In Part IV, I consider where the case law leaves openings to impose limits on each doctrine to preserve substantive accountability.

I. Substantive Accountability and the Constitution

Proponents of UE theory and government speech doctrine assume a very simplistic vision of government accountability. In the case of UE theory, they suggest that because the president is the only elected member of the executive branch, he alone can be accountable to the people in executing the law.3See, e.g., Steven G. Calabresi, Some Normative Arguments for the Unitary Executive, 48 Ark. L. Rev. 23, 58 (1995); Lawrence Lessig & Cass R. Sunstein, The President and the Administration, 94 Colum. L. Rev. 1, 97–99 (1994); Saikrishna Bangalore Prakash, Hail to the Chief Administrator: The Framers and the President’s Administrative Powers, 102 Yale L.J. 991, 998–99, 1012–15 (1993). See also Heidi Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, 93 Minn. L. Rev. 1741, 1747–48 nn.28–32 (2009) (summarizing accountability-based unity arguments and their sources) [hereinafter Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive]. Thus, UE proponents bolster their textual and historical arguments—which I and others have discussed elsewhere4See, e.g., Heidi Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise”: Unitary Executive Theory & the Government’s Knowledge Producers, 72 Syracuse L. Rev. 1473, 1482–83 (2022) [hereinafter, Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise”] (citing Christine Kexel Chabot, Interring the Unitary Executive, 98 Notre Dame L. Rev. 129, 152 (2022); David M. Driesen, The Specter of Dictatorship: Judicial Enabling of Presidential Power 28–31 (2021); Jed Handelsman Shugerman, Presidential Removal: The Marbury Problem and the Madison Solutions, 89 Fordham L. Rev. 2085, 2086–87, 2097–2102 (2021); Daniel D. Birk, Interrogating the Historical Basis for a Unitary Executive, 73 Stan. L. Rev. 175, 187–88, 228–29 (2021); Julian Davis Mortenson, The Executive Power Clause, 168 U. Pa. L. Rev. 1269, 1334 (2020); Jed Handelsman Shugerman, The Imaginary Unitary Executive, Lawfare (July 6, 2020, 8:54 AM), https://www.lawfareblog.com/imaginary-unitary-executive [https://web.archive.org/web/20230909021003/https://www.lawfaremedia.org/article/imaginary-unitary-executive]; Victoria Nourse, Reclaiming the Constitutional Text from Originalism: The Case of Executive Power, 106 Calif. L. Rev. 1, 23–24 (2018); Peter M. Shane, The Originalist Myth of the Unitary Executive, 19 U. Pa. J. Const. L. 323, 328–30, 352–60 (2016); Heidi Kitrosser, Reclaiming Accountability: Transparency, Executive Power, and the U.S. Constitution 155–57 (2015) [hereinafter Kitrosser, Reclaiming Accountability]). and which I address briefly in Part II—by suggesting that accountability is a core reason why text and history dictate a unitary executive,5See, e.g., Heidi Kitrosser, Interpretive Modesty, 104 Geo. L.J. 459, 506 (2016) [hereinafter Kitrosser, Interpretive Modesty] (citing Saikrishna Prakash, The Essential Meaning of Executive Power, 2003 U. Ill. L. Rev. 701, 783; Calabresi, supra note 3, at 42–45). See also Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3, at 1747 nn. 25–26 and accompanying text. and that accountability independently demands a unitary executive.6See sources cited supra note 3. Proponents elaborate further on presidential accountability by comparing the president not only to unelected bureaucrats, but also to members of Congress. Although the latter are elected, the argument goes, the president alone is subject to election by the entire nation through the Electoral College. He is also uniquely visible in culture and society.7See Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3, at 1747–48 nn.30–32 and accompanying text.

In the case of government speech doctrine, the Supreme Court and other proponents have treated accountability—again, in the form of elections—as a safety net that enables the people to register disapproval of unpopular government speech. They also suggest that government speech itself bolsters accountability, both in the sense that the government can give the people what they want through speech and that it can seek to persuade them through speech.

A number of scholars have critiqued the Court’s treatment of accountability in both UE theory and government speech doctrine cases. With respect to UE theory, critics observe that it massively oversimplifies how accountability is achieved as a practical matter. Indeed, it seems naïve to believe that a single vote for president held once every four years can bear the accountability load for virtually all executive branch activity. Even if we put aside the Electoral College—on account of which the popular vote winner lost the presidency twice in the last quarter of a century—and the fact that voters across the country are not a monolith, the assumption that a presidential election result constitutes a referendum on every discretionary decision of the executive branch, including the most obscure and technical ones, is heroic.8See, e.g., Peter M. Shane, Political Accountability in a System of Checks and Balances: The Case of Presidential Review of Rulemaking, 48 Ark. L. Rev. 161, 197–202 (1995). See also Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3, at 1748–50 (citing Shane’s argument as well as related criticisms by other scholars of the accountability-based argument for unity).

Furthermore, to the extent that constitutional accountability is about the electoral relationship between the people and elected officials, those officials include members of Congress as well as the president.9See infra note 13 and accompanying text. See also, e.g., Martin S. Flaherty, The Most Dangerous Branch, 105 Yale L.J. 1725, 1785 (1996); Cynthia R. Farina, The Consent of the Governed: Against Simple Rules for a Complex World, 72 Chi.-Kent L. Rev. 987, 992–1007, 1017–20 (1997); Jerry L. Mashaw, Structuring a “Dense Complexity”: Accountability and the Project of Administrative Law, 5 Issues in Legal Scholarship 1, 12–15, 35–38 (2005). See also Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3, at 1748–49 nn. 34–36 (citing Flaherty, Farina, and Mashaw, among others). As Blake Emerson writes, unity proponents “do not grapple with the competing democratic authority of Congress to structure the Executive Branch.”10Blake Emerson, Liberty and Democracy Through the Administrative State: A Critique of the Roberts Court’s Political Theory, 73 Hastings L.J. 371, 376 (2022). See also Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1484–85 (citing Emerson’s observation). To the contrary, unity is invoked to invalidate legislation passed by both houses of Congress—and, it is no small matter, signed by the president11The only exception, of course, being a rare case involving a presidential veto and a supermajority override of that veto by each house of Congress. —that seek to create some independence from unfettered presidential control in the administrative state.

Many if not most of the statutory innovations targeted by unity proponents themselves are designed to foster accountability—for instance, by shielding internal investigations from direct partisan control. This is not to say that administrative independence always enhances accountability. The point, rather, is that devising structures to maximize accountability, let alone to do so while preserving other goals and values, calls for legislative innovation and flexibility rather than categorical rules. As Justice Kagan put it, dissenting in 2020 in Seila Law v. Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, “[d]iverse problems of government demand diverse solutions. They call for varied measures and mixtures of democratic accountability and technical expertise, energy and efficiency. Sometimes, the arguments push toward

tight presidential control of agencies. . . . At other times, the arguments favor greater independence from presidential involvement.”12Seila Law LLC v. Consumer Fin. Prot. Bureau, 591 U.S. 197, 282 (2020) (Kagan, J., dissenting).

Justice Kagan’s point dovetails nicely with another major scholarly critique of UE theory’s formalistic accountability. That is, formal accountability is consistent neither with the ordinary meaning of accountability nor with the conception of it embodied in the Constitution’s structure. Elsewhere, I have summarized some of the major literature on these points as follows:

[Unity’s] vision of accountability is inconsistent with the far more complex [scheme] envisioned by the Constitution, [which] creates a web of accountability shared by multiple legislators representing multiple constituencies and by the presidency alike. Furthermore, constitutional accountability mechanisms are not directed solely toward vindicating majority policy preferences . . . but also toward guarding against abuse, incompetence, and majoritarian tyranny. In the context of the administrative state . . . constitutional accountability values demand not only multiple avenues for political accountability, but also intra-bureaucratic accountability mechanisms characterized by “complex chains of authority and expertise.”13Kitrosser, Reclaiming Accountability, supra note 4, at 163. See also id. at 258, 259 nn.66–68 (first citing Edward Rubin, The Myth of Accountability and the Anti-administrative Impulse, 103 Mich. L. Rev. 2073, 2076–83, 2119–22, 2134–35 (2005); then citing Rebecca L. Brown, Accountability, Liberty, and the Constitution, 98 Colum. L. Rev. 531, 552–59, 564–65 (1998); Flaherty, supra note 9, at 1785; Shane, supra note 8, at 197–209; Peter M. Shane, Independent Policymaking and Presidential Power: A Constitutional Analysis, 57 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 596, 613–14 (1989)). For more recent discussions of the accountability-promoting effect of internal executive branch checking mechanisms, including restraints on political control of the administrative state, see, e.g., Jon D. Michaels, Constitutional Coup: Privatization’s Threat To The American Republic 63–65, 155–56, 170–71, 176–77 (2017); Gillian E. Metzger, Foreword: 1930s Redux: The Administrative State Under Siege, 131 Harv. L. Rev. 1, 71–72, 79–81 (2017).

I have built on these insights in my own work by focusing on the role that transparency plays in fostering meaningful, or substantive, accountability.14See generally Kitrosser, Reclaiming Accountability, supra note 4; Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4; Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3. Even if our only goal were electoral responsiveness, that goal cannot be realized without popular access to information about government and an electorate capable of assessing it. Unfettered presidential control of the administrative state enables presidents to frustrate these ends by stifling or manipulating politically inconvenient information ranging from misconduct investigations to economic or scientific analyses that might cast doubt on administration priorities. The problem is yet more apparent when one considers the array of accountability mechanisms beyond the franchise, all of which require a reliable flow of information and analyses.

As for government speech doctrine, a key critique of the accountability rationale is that it assumes a level of authorship transparency that is not necessarily present in state-created or state-disseminated speech. As Helen Norton writes, “government speech is most valuable and least dangerous when members of the public can identify the government as its source. If, on the other hand, the expression’s government source is obscured . . . then political accountability provides no meaningful safeguard.”15Helen Norton, Constraining Public Employee Speech: Government’s Control of Its Workers’ Speech to Protect Its Own Expression, 59 Duke L.J. 1, 20, 27 (2009). Although the Supreme Court has said that it might weigh public perception among other factors to determine whether speech is private or public,16See Daniel J. Hemel & Lisa Larrimore Ouellette, Public Perceptions of Government Speech, 2017 Sup. Ct. Rev. 33, 35–36 (citing Pleasant Grove City v. Summum, 555 U.S. 460, 471 (2009), Walker v. Tex. Div., Sons of Confederate Veterans, Inc., 576 U.S. 200, 212–14 (2015), and Matal v. Tam, 137 S. Ct. 1744, 1760 (2017)). See also Shurtleff v. City of Boston, 142 S. Ct. 1583, 1589–90 (2022) (describing its distinction between government speech and private speech as “not mechanical,” but noting that it has, in past cases, considered factors including “the history of the expression at issue; the public’s likely perception as to who (the government or a private person) is speaking; and the extent to which the government has actively shaped or controlled the expression.”). the Court has developed no “reliable method” to gauge it.17Hemel & Larrimore, supra note 16, at 36–37. To make matters worse, the other factors that the Court considers—such as the extent of government control over speech—can themselves undermine accountability if they are not accompanied by authorship transparency.18See Shurtleff, 142 S. Ct. at 1590 (listing the factors that the Court has considered in the past). See also Hemel & Larrimore, supra note 16, at 58 (“[T]he emphasis on selectivity in several of the Court’s cases leads to the counterintuitive result that Free Speech Clause scrutiny is relaxed when government exerts greater control over the flow of ideas.”).

A closely related problem can occur, even where there is no doubt that the speech at issue is produced or disseminated by the government, if that speech is falsely presented as a product of expertise or evidence-based fact-finding rather than political pressure. As with UE theory, the problem is politicized knowledge production. Elsewhere, I have referred to this phenomenon as “distortion.”19See, e.g., Heidi Kitrosser, Distorting the Press, Knight First Amend. Inst. (July 16, 2024), https://knightcolumbia.org/content/distorting-the-press [https://perma.cc/AUZ7-CQA7].

Distortion occurs when the government—whether through employment or subsidies—sponsors the creation or dissemination of speech but imposes conditions that distort the nature of the speech or its production.20Id. In the context of government speech doctrine, the conditions would typically be imposed on the receipt of subsidies or on continued employment. In the unitary executive context, the means of enforcing conditions can vary and will depend partly on how aggressively UE theory is interpreted. At minimum, enforcement can entail actual or threatened removal from office. Recently, I illustrated the phenomenon of distortion as follows:

Take the example of a climate scientist who works for NASA and contributes to publicly issued reports and testimony that purport to detail scientific findings. Presumably, it is no secret that the scientist works for a government agency and is paid with public funds. Yet an accountability concern remains insofar as the public can be expected to assume that the scientist’s contributions to public reporting are based on professional judgment and scientific best practices. Were those contributions instead shaped by political directives, the public would effectively be duped through distortion that cloaks political messaging in the vestments of science.21Heidi Kitrosser, The Government Speech Doctrine Goes to School, Knight First Amend. Inst. (Oct. 11, 2024), https://knightcolumbia.org/content/the-government-speech-doctrine-goes-to-school [https://perma.cc/4Q85-2KKU] [hereinafter Kitrosser, The Government Speech Doctrine Goes to School].

Distortion can have both near-term and very far-reaching impacts on substantive accountability. To be sure, the line between short- and long-term consequences is a fuzzy one. For example, suppose that political appointees pressured civil servant scientists in an agency to bury or skew research findings that cast doubt on the feasibility of a presidential initiative. In the short run, such intimidation might prevent the public from hearing the unvarnished views of scientists on an electorally salient matter. In the longer run, the pressure campaign—particularly if it were not an isolated incident—might drive highly qualified scientists from the affected agency and deter others from serving in the first place. Such churn, along with the atmosphere that precipitated it, could impact public access to good-faith products of scientific expertise. Still more perniciously, it might undermine the capacity of the public to distinguish expertise from unfounded assertion.

Nonetheless, rough distinctions can be drawn between actions that undermine accountability in the near term and those that do so over time. Indeed, the preceding example suggests an intuitive place to draw a line: between acts or policies designed to keep discrete pieces of information or analysis from reaching the public, and those designed to politicize public knowledge-producing institutions from the inside. This distinction loosely parallels one made by political scientist Terry Moe between two techniques through which presidents wield control over the administrative state: centralization, whereby presidents institutionalize top-down White House control over agencies, and politicization, whereby presidents seek to shape

agencies through appointment and removal powers so that they are politically in tune with the White House in the first place.22See Terry M. Moe, The Politicized Presidency, in The New Direction in American Politics 235, 244–45 (John E. Chubb & Paul E. Peterson eds., 1985).

In pointing to both short- and long-term impacts to accountability, I mean to highlight the depth of the threat that government speech doctrine and UE theory pose to substantive accountability. From a short-term perspective, even if a knowledge institution were to remain fundamentally unchanged by political interference, the partisan manipulation of discrete pieces of data or expert analyses can distort the very picture of reality against which the electorate votes. In the longer run, the impact is yet more serious and harder to reverse, as politicization permeates state-funded enterprises purportedly devoted to disciplinary and professional expertise.

II. Major Judicial Precedent (and a Glimpse at Executive Branch Precedent)

A. Government Speech Doctrine

In this Section, I review the major Supreme Court cases on government speech doctrine, emphasizing their relationships to accountability. The Court has developed the doctrine over the past few decades. Its premise is largely uncontroversial: “[w]hen the government speaks, it is not barred by the Free Speech Clause from determining the content of what it says.”23Walker v. Tex. Div., Sons of Confederate Veterans, Inc., 576 U.S. 200, 207 (2015). For example, as Justice Rehnquist wrote in 1991’s Rust v. Sullivan, “[w]hen Congress established a National Endowment for Democracy to encourage other countries to adopt democratic principles, . . . it was not constitutionally required to fund a program to encourage competing lines of political philosophy such as communism and fascism.”24Rust v. Sullivan, 500 U.S. 173, 194 (1991). Similarly, Justice Breyer, writing for the majority in Shurtleff v. Boston in 2022, posited that “Boston could not easily congratulate the Red Sox on a victory were the city powerless to decline to simultaneously transmit the views of disappointed Yankees fans.”25Shurtleff v. City of Boston, 142 S. Ct. 1538, 1589 (2022).

Despite the commonsense idea at the doctrine’s core—and the intuitive appeal of examples like those invoked by Rehnquist and Breyer—the doctrine’s scope is heavily contested. Two categories of cases raise especially tough questions. The first entails restrictions that fall on speech that can plausibly be characterized as private, rather than governmental speech. For example, the Supreme Court held in Walker v. Texas Division, Sons of Confederate Veterans that specialty license plates in Texas, even those designed by private groups to reflect private hobbies and interests, constitute government speech.26Walker, 576 U.S. at 204–05, 214–15; id. at 221–22, 225–26 (Alito, J., dissenting). Dissenting on behalf of himself and three other justices, Justice Alito lamented the Court’s “capacious understanding of government speech” that “threatens private speech that government finds displeasing.”27Id. at 221–22 (Alito, J., dissenting). Sounding a similar alarm, Mary-Rose Papandrea wrote that Walker put “the Court’s growing deference to government institutional actors . . . on steroids, allowing the government to disfavor private speech in the name of protecting its image.”28Mary-Rose Papandrea, The Government Brand, 110 Nw. U. L. Rev. 1195, 1197 (2016).

The second category, and the one on which I focus in this essay, arises when government purports to subsidize speech that reflects evidence-based reasoning or that otherwise is governed by professional or disciplinary norms, but conditions its support on terms that would distort the nature of the undertaking. Distortion would occur, for example, if the government were to hire investigators to probe alleged wrongdoing or climate scientists to undertake research and report their findings while pressuring them to bury politically unwelcome results.

Distortion undermines free speech values in the same way that it undermines accountability: in the short term, it uses subsidized speakers to launder political messaging and present it as professional or disciplinary expertise; in the long run, it degrades the public’s capacity to consume and process information necessary to oversee their government.

The distorting potential of government speech doctrine is as old as the doctrine itself. Indeed, commentators most often trace the doctrine’s origins to Rust v. Sullivan, a case that itself raises the specter of distortion. In Rust, the Supreme Court upheld federal regulations barring family planning clinics from mentioning abortion in the course of providing federally subsidized counseling.29Rust, 500 U.S. at 191. Although the Rust Court did not invoke the concept of government speech explicitly,30Id. at 196 (characterizing the regulations as simply setting boundaries on the scope of a government-funded program). the Supreme Court described Rust in these terms just a few years later, in Rosenberger v. Rector and Visitors of the University of Virginia.31Rosenberger v. Rector & Visitors of U. of Va., 515 U.S. 819, 833 (1995). The Rosenberger Court characterized Rust as grounded in the notion that “when the government appropriates public funds to promote a particular policy of its own it is entitled to say what it wishes.”32Id. See also Legal Servs. Corp. v. Velazquez, 531 U.S. 533, 541 (2001) (explaining that “Rust did not place explicit reliance” on the government speech rationale, but that, “when interpreting the holding in later cases . . . we have explained Rust on this understanding”). Rust’s critics have argued that the challenged conditions forced medical providers to choose between funding and professional and ethical norms; in short, that the conditions distorted the funded healthcare.33See, e.g., Heidi Kitrosser, Politics, Knowledge, and Government Speech, in Elgar Companion to Free Expression (Alan Chen & Ashutosh Bhagwat eds.) (forthcoming 2025) (citing Robert C. Post, Subsidized Speech, 106 Yale L.J. 151, 174 (1996); Caroline Mala Corbin, Mixed Speech: When Speech Is Both Private and Governmental, 83 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 605, 667 (2008)).

Fifteen years after Rust, the Supreme Court decided the government speech case that is most conducive to distortion: Garcetti v. Ceballos.34See generally Garcetti v. Ceballos, 547 U.S. 410 (2006). Garcetti established that public employees receive no First Amendment protection against termination or other job-related penalties for speech that they convey while doing their jobs. Garcetti relies at least partly on a government speech rationale, characterizing public employee work product speech as speech that “the employer itself has commissioned or created.”35Id. at 422. Indeed, to support this point, the Garcetti Court cites Rosenberger’s description of Rust’s holding. Id. (citing Rosenberger, 515 U.S. at 833). See also, e.g., Norton, supra note 15, at 20 (critiquing Garcetti as an outgrowth of an overly expansive government speech doctrine). The assumption that government employees invariably convey a government-crafted message when they speak runs headlong into distortion concerns in the many cases in which employees are hired to provide professional judgment and expertise.

The Supreme Court regularly parries concerns about abuses of the doctrine by invoking political accountability. In Shurtleff v. City of Boston, for example, the Court reiterated its view that “[t]he Constitution . . . relies first and foremost on the ballot box, not on rules against viewpoint discrimination, to check the government when it speaks.”36Shurtleff v. City of Boston, 142 S. Ct. 1538, 1589 (2022). In Walker, the Court similarly argued that “the democratic electoral process . . . provides a check on government speech,” and added that such speech itself is an expression of voters’ wishes: “members of the public . . . influence the choices of a government that, through words and deeds, will reflect its electoral mandate.”37Walker v. Tex. Div., Sons of Confederate Veterans, Inc., 576 U.S. 200, 207 (2015).

The Garcetti Court also suggested that electoral accountability will yield legislation to protect public employee speech that is in the public interest. Writing for the Garcetti majority, Justice Kennedy cited the existence of a “powerful network of legislative enactments—such as whistle-blower protection laws and labor codes—available to those who seek to expose wrongdoing.”38Garcetti, 547 U.S. at 425. See also Heidi Kitrosser, On Public Employees and Judicial Buck-Passing: The Respective Roles of Statutory and Constitutional Protections for Government Whistleblowers, 94 Notre Dame L. Rev. 1699, 1708–10 (2019) [hereinafter Kitrosser, Judicial Buck-Passing] (criticizing this statement by the Garcetti Court for, among other reasons, overstating the depth and breadth of statutory whistleblower protections). This reasoning is similar to that invoked by the Court in 1983’s Bush v. Lucas.39Bush v. Lucas, 462 U.S. 367, 387 (1983). The Lucas Court held that most First Amendment damages claims brought by federal employees against their employers are precluded by federal statutory civil service protection laws,40Id. at 368. even as the Court “assumed, arguendo, that the [statutory] remedies . . . were not ‘as effective as an individual damages remedy.’ ”41Kitrosser, Judicial Buck-Passing, supra note 38, at 1706 (quoting Lucas, 462 U.S. at 372). The Court reasoned that Congress has ample incentive to protect public employee speech, particularly whistleblowing, given Congress’s “special interest in informing itself about the efficiency and morale of the Executive Branch.”42Lucas, 462 U.S. at 389.

B. Unitary Executive Theory

At first blush, UE theory has little in common with government speech doctrine; the former is an argument about government structure—specifically, the separation of powers—and pertains only to the federal government. Unity’s core assertion is that the president must control all discretionary activity in the federal executive branch, at minimum by having the power to remove anyone whose job entails such activity. The theory is grounded partly in interpretations of Article II’s text and history.

Yet UE theory shares important features with government speech doctrine. Most importantly, unity threatens substantive accountability even as its proponents justify it largely by reference to formal accountability. As with government speech doctrine, distortion is the main means by which UE theory can undermine substantive accountability.

A 1988 memorandum opinion by the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel (“OLC”) illustrates how UE theory can enable political control of ostensibly non-political, even highly technical, communications.43This discussion of the OLC memo, including citations, is taken from Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1488. In that memo, the OLC took the position that Congress could not constitutionally require the Director of the Centers for Disease Control (“CDC”) to mail “AIDS information fliers” to the public “without necessary clearance” by the president.44Charles J. Cooper, Statute Limiting the President’s Authority to Supervise the Director of the Centers for Disease Control in the Distribution of an AIDS Pamphlet, in Opinions of the Office of Legal Counsel of the United States Department of Justice: Consisting of Selected Memorandum Opinions Advising the President of the United States, the Attorney General and Other Officers of the Federal Government in Relation to Their Official Duties 47, 47 (1988). “It matters not at all,” the OLC asserted, “that the information in the AIDS fliers may be highly scientific in nature. The president’s supervisory authority encompasses all of the activities of his executive branch subordinates, whether those activities be technical or non-technical in nature.”45Id. at 57. This “necessarily follows,” the opinion continues, “from the fact that the Constitution vests ‘[t]he entire executive Power,’ without subject matter limitation, in the President.” Id. The OLC further stressed the categorical nature of the president’s authority by quoting a 1982 OLC opinion to the effect that the president’s “ultimate control over subordinate officials . . . includes the right to supervise and review [their] work . . . including reports issued either to the public or to Congress.”46Id. (emphasis omitted).

As we have seen, unity’s proponents deem it essential to preserve accountability,47See, e.g., Calabresi, supra note 3, at 35–37, 45, 59, 65–66; Lessig & Sunstein, supra note 3, 97–99; Prakash, supra note 3, 998–99, 1012–15. See also Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3, 1747–48 nn.28–32 and accompanying text (summarizing accountability-based unity arguments and their sources). despite its negative effects on substantive accountability. Recall the major features of the accountability-based argument for unity. First, proponents observe that the president is the only elected member of the federal executive branch and contrast him with unelected bureaucrats.48See, e.g., Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3, at 1747 (citing Lessig & Sunstein, supra note 3, at 97–99). They also deem him more politically accountable than members of Congress, given his high visibility and the fact that he alone is subject to election by the entire nation through the Electoral College.49See, e.g., Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3, at 1748 (citing Calabresi, supra note 3, at 58–70; Prakash, supra note 3, at 993, 1012–15). As such, it is only when the president “controls all law execution in the United States [that] the national electorate has a clear object of blame or reward for such activity.”50Kitrosser, The Accountable Executive, supra note 3, at 1747 (citing Calabresi, supra note 3, 35–37, 59, 65–66).

The accountability rationale for unity is not extolled only by sympathetic scholars and executive branch lawyers. It has also been central to unity-friendly judicial precedent since the 1926 case of Myers v. United States.51The summary of Myers that follows, including citations, is drawn largely from a more detailed summary in Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1476–78. In Myers, the Court invalidated legislation that required the president to obtain Senate approval before removing a postmaster whom the president had appointed with the Senate’s advice and consent.52Myers v. United States, 272 U.S. 52, 176 (1926). Fittingly, the Court’s opinion was written by Chief Justice Taft, the only Justice in history to have previously served as U.S. President.53See Robert Post, Tension in the Unitary Executive: How Taft Constructed the Epochal Opinion of Myers v. United States, 45 J. Sup. Ct. Hist. 167, 167 (2020) (noting that “Taft is the only person ever to have served as both president of the United States and as chief justice of the Supreme Court,” and that this “unique confluence of roles is evident in Myers”). Much of Taft’s analysis centered on the so-called “Decision of 1789,”54See Myers, 272 U.S. at 176. a lengthy debate in the First Congress on the president’s power to remove officers.55See id. at 146. Taft characterized the Decision partly as a referendum on the accountability rationale. Quoting James Madison in the 1789 Debate, Taft wrote:

If the President should possess alone the power of removal from office, those who are employed in the execution of the law will be in their proper situation, and the chain of dependence be preserved: the lowest officers, the middle grade, and the highest will depend, as they ought, on the President, and the President on the community.56Id. at 131.

Taft also stressed the relative depth of presidential accountability: “the President, elected by all the people, is rather more representative of them all than are the members of either body of the Legislature, whose constituencies are local and not country wide.”57Id. at 123.

More than seven decades would pass before unity arguments would again be received so enthusiastically by the Supreme Court. In the interim, the Court decided a series of cases in which it upheld statutory restrictions on removal, distinguishing each from the provision reviewed in Myers and thus effectively narrowing Myers’ reach.58Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1478–79 (citing generally Humphrey’s Ex’r v. United States, 295 U.S. 602 (1935), Bowsher v. Synar, 478 U.S. 714 (1986); Morrison v. Olson, 487 U.S. 654 (1988)). In Humphrey’s Executor v. United States, decided just nine years after Myers, the Court deemed Myers’ holding limited to “purely executive officers.”59Humphrey’s Ex’r, 295 U.S. at 631–32. See also Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1479 n. 34 (“More pointedly, Justice Sutherland specified that any aspects of Justice Taft’s lengthy exposition in Myers going beyond that core point are mere dicta. Sutherland also declared that ‘[i]n so far as’ any statements in Justice Taft’s opinion in Myers ‘are out of harmony’ with those expressed in Humphrey’s Executor, the former ‘are disapproved.’ ”) (citing Humphrey’s Ex’r, 295 U.S. at 626). In two 1980s cases—Bowsher v. Synar60Bowsher, 478 U.S. at 724–25. and Morrison v. Olsen61Morrison, 487 U.S. at 686–90 (1988).—the Court characterized Myers as a directive against Congress reserving the removal power for itself; Myers did not categorically bar other limits, such as for-cause requirements, on the president’s power to remove even purely executive officers.62Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1479 (citing Morrison, 487 U.S. at 686, 689). Chief Justice Rehnquist, writing for the Morrison Court, explained that the validity of a removal restriction turns on a flexible, functional question: whether the restriction is “of such a nature that [it impedes] the President’s ability to perform his constitutional duty.”63Morrison, 478 U.S. at 691 (cited in Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1479).

As the lone dissenter in Morrison, Justice Scalia penned an opinion that has since become a classic in the UE theory canon and that presaged the Roberts Court’s warm embrace of unity.64See Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1480 (citing Ganesh Sitaraman, The Political Economy of the Removal Power, 134 Harv. L. Rev. 352, 380 (2020); Amanda Hollis-Brusky, Helping Ideas Have Consequences: Political and Intellectual Investment in the Unitary Executive Theory, 1981–2000, 89 Denv. U. L. Rev. 197, 209–10 (2011)). Among other things, Scalia invoked accountability.65Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1479–80 (citing Morrison, 487 U.S. at 729 (Scalia, J., dissenting)). The president, he observed, “is directly dependent on the people.” Indeed, the Constitution’s founders touted the relative accountability of a single president as opposed to a multi-member body: “since there is only one President . . . [t]he people know whom to blame” when something goes awry.66Morrison, 487 U.S. at 729 (Scalia, J., dissenting). In the case of prosecutors, an unfettered presidential removal power ensures that “when crimes are not investigated and prosecuted fairly . . . the President pays the cost in political damage to his administration.”67Id. at 728–29.

Beginning in 2010, the Roberts Court retreated from the functional approach that the Supreme Court had embraced for most of the twentieth century.68See Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1480 (“Since 2010, when Chief Justice Roberts wrote for the majority in Free Enterprise Fund v. Public Company Accounting Oversight Board (PCAOB), the Roberts Court has distanced itself from the deference exhibited in Humphrey’s Executor and Morrison.”) (citing Free Enter. Fund v. Pub. Co. Acct. Oversight Bd., 561 U.S. 477, 483 (2010)). As of now, the Court has not explicitly overruled Humphreys Executor, Bowsher, or Morrison. It has, however, reframed them, suggesting that they stand only for discrete “exceptions to the President’s unrestricted removal power.”69Seila Law LLC v. Consumer Fin. Prot. Bureau, 591 U.S. 197, 204–06, 228–30 (2020). See also Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1481–82 (discussing this line of reasoning in both Seila and PCAOB). Accordingly, the Roberts Court has struck down several statutes imposing limits on this power, including a law that permitted the president to remove the director of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau only for “inefficiency, neglect of duty, or malfeasance in office.”70Seila, 591 U.S. at 206–07.

Like the Taft Court, the Roberts Court identifies accountability as a central reason why the Constitution demands a unitary executive. Indeed, in every case in which it has rejected presidential removal restrictions, the Roberts Court has followed Taft’s lead by quoting James Madison’s 1789 statement that “the lowest officers, the middle grade, and the highest,” ought to depend “on the President, and the President on the community.”711 Annals of Cong. 518 (1789) (Joseph Gales ed., 1834) (J. Madison) (quoted in Seila, 591 U.S. at 223–25; Collins v. Yellen, 594 U.S. 220, 251–52 (2021); Free Enter. Fund, 561 U.S. at 498); see also Myers v. United States, 272 U.S. 52, 171 (1926) (quoting Taft’s use of same quote in Myers); Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1482 n.66 and accompanying text.

To be sure, unity’s proponents do not rely solely on accountability; they also invoke arguments from constitutional history and text. Elsewhere, I have recounted and built on some of the major rejoinders to these text and history-based arguments.72See, e.g., Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits from Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1482–83; Kitrosser, Interpretive Modesty, supra note 5, at 507–10. Although my focus in this Essay is on accountability, it is worth noting that unity’s text and history-based arguments—and their failings—are themselves intertwined with unity’s enervated vision of accountability. This is true, for example, of unity proponents’ over-reading of founding-era arguments linking constitutional and statutory provisions to accountability. Proponents tend to leap from highly case-specific founding era arguments to a broad, acontextual constitutional unity directive, a move enabled by their fixation on formal, rather than substantive accountability.73See, e.g., Kitrosser, Interpretive Modesty, supra note 5, at 512. This phenomenon is illustrated by unity proponents’ use of the founding era decision not to append an advisory council to the president. As I explained in a previous article:

[U]nity proponents cite founding fears that the President would hide behind his council, blaming it for his own poor decisions and thus defeating accountability. From this, unity proponents leap to the conclusion that the founders wanted the President to fully control all discretionary executive decisions and executive officers. Yet this conclusion massively oversimplifies the nature of the council debate. Council opponents focused on features specific to the proposed council, including its small size and its ability to collude with the President in relative secrecy. Notably, they also feared that the President and his council would seek to appoint executive branch officers who “possess[ed] the necessary insignificance and pliancy to render them the obsequious instruments of [the President’s] pleasure.” At minimum, the council debate, centering as it did on the specific features of the proposed council, simply did not address whether the executive branch must in all respects be unitary. If anything, the accountability-related concerns articulated in the debate suggest that the founders feared full presidential control over executive branch decision making and officers. Unfettered control could, among other things, foster secretive collusions between the President and those in his thrall.74Kitrosser, Interpretive Modesty, supra note 5, at 512 (citing Kitrosser, Reclaiming Accountability, supra note 4, at 146, 152–55; The Federalist No. 76, at 458 (Alexander Hamilton) (Clinton Rossiter ed., 1961)).

III.  Contemporary Threats to Substantive Accountability

In Part III, I present three sets of examples that span the period from the post-Watergate years to the earliest days of the second Trump Administration. In Section III.A, I look at the development of UE theory in the Department of Justice (“DOJ”) during the late 1970s and 1980s and its use by the Department to resist post-Watergate ethics and oversight measures. I observe that Donald Trump has picked up this mantle in more recent years, including through his resistance to oversight by Inspectors General. In Section III.B, I look at the impact of both unity and government speech doctrine on the civil service more broadly. In Section III.B.1, I discuss the relationship between the federal civil service and UE theory. I focus especially on “Schedule F,” newly reinstated through executive order on the first day of the second Trump Administration and aimed at replacing vast swaths of the civil service with political appointees. In Section III.B.2, I summarize two key reasons, including Garcetti’s impact, for the enervated state of first amendment protections for federal civil servants. In Section III.B.3, I cite several examples—including a recent spate of state laws regulating the classroom speech of public school teachers and professors—of government speech doctrine’s effect on state and local employees.

A. Unitary Executive Theory and Federal Investigations

Investigations that could implicate the president or his allies are classic locations for dispute over the constitutionality and wisdom of restrictions on the president’s ability to fire personnel or interfere with their work. Morrison v. Olson itself involved a challenge to the independent counsel provisions of the 1978 Ethics in Government Act. Enacted in the wake of Watergate, the Act was an effort to confront public corruption, in part by creating an independent counsel (“IC”) with some degree of distance from presidential control. The Act’s IC provisions were responsive to fears that presidents would, as Richard Nixon had done, interfere with Justice Department investigations in which they could be implicated. Olson challenged these provisions partly on the basis that the IC was incompatible with a unitary executive because the IC did not serve at the president’s pleasure. Instead, the IC could be terminated only by the Attorney General (“AG”), who herself is subject to at-will dismissal by the president. The AG could fire the IC “only for good cause, physical or mental disability . . . or any other condition that substantially impairs [the IC’s] performance of . . . [their] duties.”75Ethics in Government Act, 28 U.S.C. § 596(a)(1) (1978).

The majority and dissenting opinions in Morrison reflected two very different ideas about unity and accountability. To the majority, written by Justice Rehnquist, the judicial mission was limited and functional: its role was not “to define rigid categories”76Morrison v. Olson, 487 U.S. 654, 689 (1988). but to ensure that legislation does not “interfere impermissibly with [the president’s] constitutional obligation to ensure the faithful execution of the laws.”77Id. at 693. Among the factors that Rehnquist cited to explain why the removal restriction passed this practical assessment, it “was essential, in the view of Congress, to establish the necessary independence of the office,” an office that could be tasked with investigating the president or close advisors.78Id. To Justice Scalia, the lone dissenter, the president possessed all the executive power—a conclusion that he reached by interpreting Article II’s opening words, “[t]he executive Power shall be vested in a President of the United States,” to mean “all of the executive power”—and such power necessarily entails complete and indefeasible removal authority.79Id. at 705 (Scalia, J., dissenting). As for the risk that the president might abuse this power, Justice Scalia answered that “the primary check against prosecutorial abuse is a political one. The prosecutors who exercise this awesome discretion are selected and can be removed by a President, whom the people have trusted enough to elect.”80Id. at 728. Justice Scalia’s vision of accountability was so narrow that he treated the IC provisions, enacted by elected members of Congress and subject to presidential veto, as constitutionally intolerable because they might subject the president and their advisers to popular scrutiny. The provisions, Scalia said, “weaken[] the Presidency by reducing the zeal of his staff” and “enfeeble[] him more directly in his constant confrontations with Congress, by eroding his public support.”81Id. at 713.

Although functionalism—and substantive accountability—prevailed over formalism in Morrison, Justice Scalia’s views would eventually receive a much warmer reception in the Roberts Court. Within the executive branch, unitary executive theorists did not need to wait nearly so long to see their ideas put into practice. The Justice Department in the Reagan Administration was deeply entwined with the conservative legal movement,82See Deborah Pearlstein, The Democracy Effects of Legal Polarization: Movement Lawyering at the Dawn of the Unitary Executive, 2 J. Am. Const. Hist. 357, 365–67, 378 (2024); Sitaraman, supra note 64, at 377–78; Hollis-Brusky, supra note 64, at 202–03, 214–15; Steven M. Teles, Transformative Bureaucracy: Reagan’s Lawyers and the Dynamics of Political Investment, 23 Stud. Am. Pol. Dev. 61, 62–63, 66, 69–75, 79–80 (2009). and both the Department and the broader movement made the advancement of UE theory a priority.83See Pearlstein, supra note 82, at 366–67, 378; Sitaraman, supra note 64, at 377–80; Hollis-Brusky, supra note 64, at 205–06, 212–13. Conservative legal elites viewed unity as one means of reigning in the perceived liberalism of the administrative state, and were also drawn to it because Republicans at the time had better electoral chances with the presidency than in either house of Congress.84See Pearlstein, supra note 82, at 362 (citing Jack Goldsmith, The Accountable Presidency, The New Republic, (Jan. 31, 2010), https://newrepublic.com/article/72810/the-accountable-presidency [https://perma.cc/H2SA-3SLW] (quoting Jeffrey Hart, The Presidency: Shifting Conservative Perspectives?, 26 Nat’l Rev. 1351, 1353, 1355 (1974))); see also Charlie Savage, Takeover: The Return of the Imperial Presidency and the Subversion of American Democracy 44–46 (2007); see generally Charles Fried, Order and Law: Arguing the Reagan Revolution—A Firsthand Account (1991).

Much of the pro-unity activity in the Reagan-era Justice Department was directed against post-Watergate legislation that imposed oversight measures on executive branch lawyers. Recounting these efforts, Deborah Pearlstein writes:

[T]he first sustained campaigns to apply unitary executive theory to the day-to-day workings of government began within the Department of Justice, and some of the most important battles focused on just [the] claim . . . that an appropriate understanding of the executive power required recognizing constitutional limits on the ability of Congress and the federal courts to engage in professional oversight of Justice Department lawyers. On some occasions quite visibly, on others largely in secret, movement lawyers deployed unitary executive arguments to challenge or block three of the major tools that post-Watergate reformers had pursued to ensure government attorneys would worry more about being held accountable for their misconduct: (1) strengthened rules of professional ethics; (2) an Office of Professional Responsibility inside the Department of Justice to investigate ethics complaints against government attorneys; and (3) independent inspectors general to investigate allegations that government officials were responsible for waste, fraud, or abuse.85Pearlstein, supra note 82, at 370.

Unity proponents also made their cases—for UE theory generally and against independent oversight of federal officials in particular—to the practicing bar, to legal academics, and to law students.86See id., at 365–67, 378; Hollis-Brusky, supra note 64, at 205–06, 212–13 Sitaraman, supra note 64, at 377–80; Teles, supra note 82, at 62–63, 66, 69–75, 79–80. These efforts contributed to unity’s eventual reversal of fortune in the courts. They also helped to shift the norms of acceptable conduct among government officials, both because they “weakened internal ethics checks” and created a permission structure for ethical breaches.87Id. at 359, 370. Indeed, the repeated refrain that oversight legislation weakens the president and affronts voters lends itself to arguments that even highly credible and serious misconduct allegations are mere “partisan attack[s].”88Id. at 359.

Although UE theory has a decided partisan valence historically, its allure as a means to push back against oversight has not been lost on Democrats when they occupy the oval office. Although the DOJ Inspector General—against which movement lawyers fought—was not established until 1988,89Id. at 377–78. the initial Inspectors General Act was enacted in 1978, and then-President Jimmy Carter’s OLC objected to two aspects of the law as inconsistent with unitary presidential control of subordinates.90See generally John M. Harmon, Assistant Att’y Gen., Off. Legal Couns., Memorandum Opinion for the Attorney General: Inspector General Legislation (Feb. 21, 1977). John Harmon, Carter’s Acting Assistant AG for the OLC, objected in a memorandum to the Act’s removal provision, which gave the president at-will removal power over Inspectors General (“IGs”) but required them to notify both Houses of Congress of their reasons for removal. Citing Myers, Harmon called this an “improper restriction on the President’s exclusive power to remove Presidentially appointed executive officers.”91Id. at 18. Harmon also objected to the IG’s statutory “obligation to keep Congress fully and currently informed” and the related “requirement that [the IG] provide any additional information or documents requested by Congress . . . without executive branch clearance or approval.”92Id. at 17. In Harmon’s view, these informing rules interfere with the president’s “general administrative control over those executing the laws,” which “includes the right to coordinate and supervise all replies and comments from the executive branch to Congress.”93Id.

Finally, and unsurprisingly, Donald Trump has been especially brazen in resisting accountability measures and in invoking unity to do so. Examples to this effect include his dismissals of Inspectors General during his first administration and in the first week of his second administration. During his first administration, Trump notoriously fired several Inspectors General who investigated controversies ranging from the administration’s handling of the Covid-19 pandemic to the call between Trump and the Ukrainian president that led to Trump’s first impeachment.94See, e.g., Bob Bauer & Jack Goldsmith, Inspector General Reform on the Table, Lawfare (Oct. 5, 2021, 3:23 PM), https://www.lawfareblog.com/inspector-general-reform-table [https://perma.cc/9KCR-PQ79]; Melissa Quinn, The Internal Watchdogs Trump Has Fired or Replaced, CBS News (May 19, 2020, 11:43 AM), https://www.cbsnews.com/news/trump-inspectors-general-internal-watchdogs-fired-list [https://perma.cc/4Y4U-TZ89]; Michael C. Dorf, Inspector General Firings Highlight the Danger of the Unitary Executive Theory, Dorf On L. (May 18, 2020), http://www.dorfonlaw.org/2020/05/inspector-general-firings-highlight.html [https://perma.cc/KAY3-QNBL]. Trump made clear his view that UE theory empowered him to take such actions.95Steven D. Schwinn, Trump’s Tears Against Inspectors General Tell Us It’s Time to Abandon the Unitary Executive Theory, Jurist (Apr. 13, 2020, 6:03 PM), https://www.jurist.org/commentary/2020/04/steven-schwinn-trumps-tears [https://perma.cc/6YVP-HXCD]. As of this writing, less than one week into Trump’s second administration, he has already fired more than a dozen Inspectors General in the course of a single Friday evening. The firings eschewed the applicable statutory requirement that Congress receive thirty days’ notice of any removal including a “substantive rationale” with “detailed and case-specific reasons” for removal.96See David Nakamura, Lisa Rein & Matt Viser, Trump Defends Ousting at Least 15 Independent Inspectors General in Late-Night Purge, Wash. Post (Jan. 25, 2025), https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2025/01/24/trump-fire-inspectors-general-federal-agencies [https://web.archive.org/web/20250225161555/https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2025/01/24/trump-fire-inspectors-general-federal-agencies]; Megan Messerly, Josh Gerstein, Kyle Cheney & Nahal Toosi, Trump Fires Independent Inspectors General in Friday Night Purge, Politico (Jan. 25, 2025, 9:20 PM), https://www.politico.com/news/2025/01/25/donald-trump-inspectors-general-firing-00200611 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250127090247/https://www.politico.com/news/2025/01/25/donald-trump-inspectors-general-firing-00200611].

B. Broader Attacks on the Civil Service: UE Theory and Government Speech Doctrine at Work

  1. Unitary Executive Theory

UE theory also threatens the federal civil service on the whole, including disciplinary experts such as scientists, economists, and public health researchers. Unity can undermine their ability to disseminate competent, good-faith information and analyses that an administration finds politically inconvenient. Such impacts have both short-term and long-term aspects. In the short term, presidents and their political subordinates may invoke unity to block or manipulate certain communications. In the longer run, they may nip such communications in the bud more seamlessly by thinning out the merit-based civil service in favor of a largely political workforce.

As for short-term impacts, there are two major categories of valuable civil service communications at risk. The first is whistleblowing regarding wrongdoing in federal agencies. Currently, civil service laws protect federal employees who blow the whistle on bad acts including illegality, waste, and abuse.97Jason Zuckerman & Eric Bachman, The Whistleblower Protection Act: Empowering Federal Employees to Root Out Waste, Fraud and Abuse 2–3 (2017). These protections would be compromised should an administration assert, and even more so should courts agree, that such legislation cannot constitutionally prevent the president from removing, at will, anyone who exercises discretionary executive power. As I elaborate in Part IV, it is by no means a foregone conclusion that courts would allow presidents to bypass civil service protections on unitary executive grounds. It is possible, however, that courts would indeed extend the logic of the Roberts Court removal cases so far. Courts might also draw to the same effect on the Supreme Court’s recent decision in Lucia v. Securities and Exchange Commission in which the Court expanded the definition of “officers” who constitutionally cannot be part of the civil service.98Lucia v. SEC, 585 U.S. 237, 237–38 (2018).

UE theory can also be invoked to stifle civil servants who seek to convey information or analysis in the ordinary course of doing their jobs. Recall, for example, the OLC’s 1988 opinion to the effect that Congress may not require executive branch personnel to distribute even highly technical information without a chance for presidential intervention.99See supra text accompanying notes 44–46. Although the CDC Directorship is not a civil service position, see Barry Sullivan, Lessons of the Plague Years, 54 Loyola U. Chi. L.J. 15, 59 (2022) (noting that the CDC director is a political appointee). The same rationale can be applied to civil servants whose duties include generating or disseminating information or who testify before Congress. Furthermore, to the extent that some such speech falls within the terms of federal whistleblower protection laws,100For example, a government auditor or investigator might make a report in the course of doing their job that also constitutes whistleblowing under the Act. Or scientists or public health experts may discover, in the course of doing job-related research, events that constitute “a substantial and specific danger to public health or safety.” 5 U.S.C. § 2302(b)(8) (listing statutorily protected whistleblower disclosures, including “a substantial and specific danger to public health or safety”). it is vulnerable to the same unity-based threats as that faced by federal whistleblowers more broadly.

Unity can enable much more than the blocking of isolated pieces of information and analysis. It can have a deep, long-range impact by thinning out the ranks of the civil service, enabling the president to fill and potentially fire large swaths of the federal workforce previously designated as nonpartisan merit hires. As noted, it is by no means inevitable that courts would sign off on such sweeping changes. Existing case law does, however, open the door to such a possibility, and at minimum, it can embolden presidents to test the boundaries of precedent by trying to initiate such action.

Donald Trump seems determined to push the limits of a president’s power to politicize the federal workforce. On the first day of his new administration, January 20, 2025, he issued an executive order (“EO”) reinstating the so-called “Schedule F” order that he had issued in the waning days of his first administration.101The new class of political appointments is referred to as “policy / career” appointments, whereas Trump’s earlier EO called them “Schedule F” appointments. See Exec. Order No. 14,171 § 3(a), 90 Fed. Reg. 8625 (Jan. 20, 2025). See also, e.g., Nick Bednar, President Trump and the Civil Service: Day 1, Lawfare (Jan. 23, 2025, 1:32 PM), https://www.lawfaremedia.org/article/president-trump-and-the-civil-service–day-1 [https://perma.cc/U4QJ-RZWA]; Drew Friedman, Trump Revives Executive Order Aiming to Strip Some Federal Employees of Civil Service Protections, Fed. News Network (Jan. 21, 2025, 6:59 PM), https://federalnewsnetwork.com/workforce/2025/01/trump-revives-executive-order-aiming-to-strip-some-federal-employees-of-civil-service-protections [https://perma.cc/Q7VM-DDB3]. The EO authorizes the transition of potentially tens of thousands of career positions throughout the federal workforce into political appointments.102See, e.g., Friedman, supra note 101. The EO expansively defines the jobs that qualify as “policy/career” appointments that can be removed from the civil service. Exec. Order No. 14,171 § 2–3 (incorporating definition from Schedule F with some amendments); Exec. Order 13,957 85 Fed. Reg. 67631 § 5(c) (Oct. 21, 2020) (incorporated into new EO). See also, e.g., Bednar, supra note 101. In its purpose section and even its title, the EO projects confidence that it is permitted, even demanded, by unity and accountability.103See, e.g., Bednar, supra note 101 (“The executive order reinstating Schedule F begins by echoing unitary executive theory.”). The EO is entitled “Restoring Accountability to Policy-Influencing Positions Within the Federal Workforce,” and it asserts that the president has “sole and exclusive authority over the executive branch.” It adds that any power held by federal employees “is delegated by the President,” and that employees “must be accountable to the President, who is the only member of the executive branch, other than the Vice President, elected and directly accountable to the American people.”104Exec. Order No. 14,171 § 1. Fittingly, the idea behind Schedule F during Trump’s first administration originated in a memorandum suggesting that Trump “[e]xplore the ‘Constitutional Option’ for firing federal employees,”105Donald P. Moynihan, Public Management for Populists: Trump’s Schedule F Executive Order and the Future of the Civil Service, 82 Pub. Admin. Rev. 174, 175 (2021) (citing a 2017 Memorandum from James Sherk to White House Domestic Policy Council). and that civil service protections might be unconstitutional.106Id.

There is also an obvious kinship between the EO’s reliance on the notion of presidential accountability and Trump’s longstanding rhetoric about the abuses of the so-called “deep state.”107See, e.g., id. at 175; James Oliphant & Steve Holland, How Trump Plans to Cement Control of Government by Dismantling the ‘Deep State,’ Reuters (Jan. 18, 2025, 4:56 PM), https://www.reuters.com/world/us/how-trump-plans-cement-control-government-by-dismantling-deep-state-2025-01-18 [https://perma.cc/N8B5-MHKJ]; Jeannie Suk Gersen, How Much of the Government Can Donald Trump Dismantle?, New Yorker (Jan. 16, 2025), https://www.newyorker.com/news/the-lede/how-much-of-the-government-can-donald-trump-dismantle [https://perma.cc/TCX5-QP8W]. As Donald Moynihan writes, “Trump was not just antagonistic toward the career public service: this hostility was central to his political identity. He had openly campaigned against the ‘deep state.’ ”108Moynihan, supra note 105, at 175. The EO’s own language frames it as a reaction to “numerous and well-documented cases of career Federal employees resisting and undermining the policies and directives of their executive leadership,” and as a “restor[ation of] accountability to the career civil service.”109Exec. Order No. 14,171 § 1.

  1. Federal Employees and the First Amendment

Federal civil service laws are especially crucial to protect accountability-enhancing speech because federal employees lack robust First Amendment protections. On the rare occasions that an employee’s free speech lawsuit proceeds to the merits, it confronts the Garcetti hurdle. Should a court conclude that the employee’s speech either occurred outside of the course of their employment or warrants an exception from Garcetti, the employee still must overcome a balancing test that defers substantially to employers’ rationales.110Turner v. U.S. Agency for Global Media is a rare example of a First Amendment case in which a federal employee prevailed on the merits. See Turner v. U.S. Agency for Glob. Media, 502 F. Supp. 3d 333 (D.D.C. 2020). Judge Howell found that the federal civil service laws did not preclude those aspects of the complaint that challenged structural changes to the agency as opposed to individual employee disciplinary actions. Id. at 364–70. Judge Howell also found that the type of employment at issue—journalism—fit within an exception to Garcetti. Id. at 374–75. Finally, because the structural changes at issue imposed ex ante limits on a wide swath of communications rather than targeted, post hoc discipline, Judge Howell applied a standard more deferential than the balancing test ordinarily applied in employee speech cases. Id. at 377.

As noted earlier, the reason why federal employees are rarely able to invoke the First Amendment to sue their employers directly is because the Supreme Court held in 1983’s Bush v. Lucas111Bush v. Lucas, 462 U.S. 367, 389–90 (1983). that the federal civil service laws preclude such suits.112Id. at 368. The Lucas Court expressed confidence that Congress would protect whistleblowers.113See id. at 387; supra note 42 and accompanying text. It did not, apparently, anticipate a future in which whistleblower protection laws might themselves be overtaken by aggressive interpretations of UE theory. Even on their own terms, such laws have not reliably served as the “powerful network” that the Garcetti Court assured would protect whistleblowers in lieu of robust first amendment protections.114See Kitrosser, Judicial Buck-Passing, supra note 38, at 1700 and accompanying text. For example, at the time that the Court decided Garcetti, federal whistleblower protection law contained the same hole that

Garcetti created in constitutional coverage—namely, it did not encompass speech made as part of one’s job.115See id. at 1709–10.

  1. The First Amendment and State and Local Employees

Although state and local employees can invoke their First Amendment rights directly, those rights have been narrowed considerably by courts, particularly through the government speech doctrine and Garcetti. Furthermore, as we have seen, the notion underlying a broad government speech doctrine—that public employee speech is rightly, even necessarily subject to political control—also has substantial political currency. That political appeal—coupled with legislators and executive officers feeling emboldened by the state of the case law—have helped give rise to a number of restrictive policies, ranging from sweeping public employee gag rules to legislation micro-managing the classroom speech of public school teachers. In this Section, I discuss three examples of such measures: post-hoc discipline for employee speech, prior restraints on employee communications with the media, and laws targeting public school educators in particular.

First, Garcetti and some lower court interpretations of it negatively impact substantive accountability by opening the door to retaliation for two categories of speech: employee reports of wrongdoing and employee communications on matters of public interest in the course of doing their jobs. The latter requires little explanation, as Garcetti explicitly permits discipline for speech that constitutes work product, however truthfully and competently performed. The former also follows plainly from Garcetti to the extent that catching and reporting on internal wrongdoing is a part of one’s job. Furthermore, although lower court interpretations of Garcetti are not monolithic, some define job duty speech broadly enough to capture a good deal of such whistleblowing. For example, some courts treat the fact that an employee reported wrongdoing through their “chain of command,” or through some other avenue that lacks a “civilian analogue,” as evidence that the report fell within their job duties.116See Heidi Kitrosser, The Special Value of Public Employee Speech, 2015 Sup. Ct. Rev. 301, 320–23 (2016) (and cases cited therein) [hereinafter Kitrosser, Special Value of Public Employee Speech]; Frank D. LoMonte, Putting the ‘Public’ Back into Public Employment: A Roadmap for Challenging Prior Restraints that Prohibit Government Employees from Speaking to the News Media, 68 U. Kan. L. Rev. 1, 23–24 (2019) (and cases cited therein). Some courts accord the same meaning to the fact that an employee’s speech is directed toward resolving problems that interfere with their duties.117See Kitrosser, Special Value of Public Employee Speech, supra note 116, at 317–19 (and cases cited therein). Furthermore, despite contrary language in a 2014 Supreme Court case,118Lane v. Franks, 573 U.S. 228, 240 (2014) (“[T]he mere fact that a citizen’s speech concerns information acquired by virtue of his public employment does not transform that speech into employee—rather than citizen—speech. The critical question under Garcetti is whether the speech at issue itself is ordinarily within the scope of an employee’s duties, not whether it merely concerns those duties.”). some lower courts have treated the fact that an employee learned about information on the job as a factor that weighs against First Amendment coverage should they face discipline for communicating it.119See Kitrosser, Special Value of Public Employee Speech, supra note 116, at 315–17 (and cases cited therein).

Second, although there is a sound basis to conclude that Garcetti does not license agencies to impose sweeping prior restraints on employee speech,120See, e.g., LoMonte, supra note 116, at 13–19, 25–32 (explaining that prior restraints on employee speech are properly analyzed under United States v. NTEU (1995) rather than Garcetti and that most cannot survive review under NTEU); Univ. of Fla. Brechner Ctr. for Freedom of Info., Protecting Sources and Whistleblowers: The First Amendment and Public Employees’ Right to Speak to the Media 4–9 (2019). and some courts indeed have struck down such policies,121LoMonte, supra note 116, at 29–32; Brechner Ctr., supra note 120, at 5–9. there remain scores of federal, state, and local directives that bar employees across multiple agencies from speaking to reporters without authorization. A 2019 report by the Brechner Center for Freedom of Information at the University of Florida found “dozens of examples of policies that either forbid government employees from speaking to journalists at all, or require that they obtain a supervisor’s permission before doing so.”122Brechner Ctr., supra note 120, at 3. See also id. at 7–8, 10–12; LoMonte, supra note 116, at 36 (citing Brechner Center’s research). Such policies persist in part because “Garcetti fueled a mindset among government managers and their counsel that the courts would view restrictions on employee speech deferentially.”123LoMonte, supra note 116, at 26–27. The political currency of the notion underlying Garcetti and government speech doctrine more broadly—that agency employees can be made to speak in one voice, dictated by political leadership—plays an important role as well.

Third, over the past several years, public school teachers—college and university professors as well as K12 instructors—have faced a host of state laws barring them from conveying certain ideas about race or gender in the classroom.124See Kitrosser, The Government Speech Doctrine Goes to School, supra note 21 (citing and discussing these laws). State and public school board defendants have leaned heavily on the government speech doctrine to justify the laws. To defend its restrictions on the instructional speech of public college professors, for example, the state of Florida asserted that the First Amendment “categorically does not apply” because such communications constitute “heartland government speech.”125Defendants’ Response in Opposition to Plaintiffs’ Motion for a Preliminary Injunction at 10, 15, Pernell v. Fla. Bd. of Governors, No. 22-cv-00304 (N.D. Fla. Sept. 22, 2022), 2023 WL 18357418. Defendants have also invoked accountability to bolster their government speech arguments. In the Florida litigation, for example, the state argued that anyone displeased with the restrictions on professorial speech could seek recourse “[at] the ballot box.”126Id. at 10. The laws’ proponents similarly invoke political accountability in their appeals to the public. For example, Nate Hochman, writing in the Manhattan Institute’s City Journal, characterized critics as “suggest[ing] that public educators should be insulated from accountability and democratic oversight.”127Nate Hochman, Critical Race Theory and Academic Freedom, City J. (June 17, 2021), https://www.city-journal.org/article/critical-race-theory-and-academic-freedom [https://perma.cc/TRV9-B6DG]. Judicial responses to lawsuits challenging such restrictions have been mixed thus far. In cases involving college and university professors, courts have sided with plaintiffs, identifying an academic freedom exception to Garcetti that I discuss further in Part IV.128See, e.g., Kitrosser, The Government Speech Doctrine Goes to School, supra note 21, at IV.A.2. Courts have been less favorable to plaintiffs in the K–12 educational setting, concluding that primary and secondary school teachers are subject to Garcetti’s rule.129See, e.g., id. at IV.B.2. In the latter cases, however, plaintiffs have had some success in arguing that the laws are too vague to pass constitutional muster.130See, e.g., id. at IV.D.

IV. Some Kernels of Hope

       Although both UE theory and government speech doctrine have made substantial strides in the courts and the political branches, they are not invulnerable to limiting principles. Indeed, courts already have imposed or laid the groundwork for some boundaries on each doctrine’s reach. These aspects of precedent can, and should, be built on with substantive accountability among the lodestars in the process. I have explored these points in more detail elsewhere,131With respect to unitary executive theory, see Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits From Expertise,” supra note 4, at Part III. With respect to government speech doctrine, see, e.g., Kitrosser, Distorting the Press, supra note 19, and Kitrosser, The Government Speech Doctrine Goes to School, supra note 21. and highlight a few aspects here.

       Turning first to UE theory, there are a few respects in which the current case law leaves the door open for some substantive accountability-based limits. For example, the Supreme Court has not, as of yet, weighed in on the constitutionality of civil service protections. Indeed, Chief Justice John Roberts, writing for the Court in a 2010 case, noted that “[n]othing in [its] opinion . . . should be read to cast doubt on the use of what is colloquially known as the civil service system within independent agencies.”132Free Enter. Fund v. Pub. Co. Acct. Oversight Bd., 561 U.S. 477, 507 (2010). Presumably, the PCAOB Court singled out independent agencies, rather than executive agencies, because the for-cause protections enjoyed by independent agency heads ensure that civil servants in such agencies will be separated from presidential control by at least two for-cause layers. This matters because the PCAOB Court invalidated a scheme that separated the heads of the Public Company Accountability Oversight Board from unfettered presidential removal through two layers of “for cause” removal—one between the President and the commissioners of the Securities and Exchange Commission (“SEC”), and one between the SEC commissioners and the PCAOB board members. Id. at 484, 486–87. Roberts observed that many civil servants “would not qualify as ‘Officers of the United States’ who ‘exercise significant authority pursuant to the laws of the United States;’ ” accordingly, they may not “be subject to the same sort of [presidential] control.”133Id. at 506 (quoting Buckley v. Valeo, 424 U.S. 1, 126 (1976)). In a future case, the Court could decide the question that it has left open and affirm the constitutionality validity of civil service tenure protections. To its reasoning about the limited scope of civil servants’ roles, the Court might add one about the work that they do perform. Namely, much of it entails the production of knowledge that reflects expertise and evidence-based analysis—for example, generating scientific reports or undertaking audits or inspections. Such work creates much of the factual backdrop against which the public and other branches can judge elected officials. By guarding against political interference with knowledge production, civil service protections support substantive accountability.

       Similar substantive-accountability based arguments can be made regarding other questions that the Supreme Court has not, to date, decided. This includes the constitutionality of the limited removal restrictions that currently apply to IGs and of the still more ambitious proposals to provide IGs with for-cause protection from removal.134See Kitrosser, “A Government That Benefits From Expertise,” supra note 4, at 1493–94 (explaining that there remains some opening in judicial precedent to justify such protections).

       As for government speech doctrine, the case law contains the seeds of an important limiting principle that I call the anti-distortion doctrine. It amounts to a wariness of conditions on state-sponsored knowledge production that would distort the nature of the sponsored programs or their communicative outputs. Perhaps the most overt use of the principle occurs in the 2001 case of Legal Services v. Velazquez.135See generally Legal Servs. Corp. v. Velazquez, 531 U.S. 533 (2001). The Velazquez Court invalidated a law restricting the types of arguments that congressionally funded legal services attorneys could make in litigation.136Id. at 537–39. The Court observed that Congress had funded the attorneys not to transmit government speech but rather to represent private clients.137Id. at 541–43, 547–48. Having done so, Congress could not limit the stock of arguments from which the attorneys could draw to advise and to advocate for their clients. Such a limit, said the Court, “distorts the legal system by altering the traditional role of the attorneys” as zealous advocates for their clients.138Id. at 544. Among the problems with such distortion is that it “prohibits speech and expression upon which courts must depend for the proper exercise of the judicial power.”139Id. at 545.

           

Garcetti itself contains some anti-distortion reasoning. The Garcetti Court left open the possibility of an exception for the expressive work of public school academics to the general rule that work product speech is unprotected. The Garcetti Court acknowledged that “[t]here is some argument that expression related to academic scholarship or classroom instruction implicates additional constitutional interests that are not fully accounted for by this Court’s customary employee-speech jurisprudence.”140Garcetti v. Ceballos, 547 U.S. 410, 425 (2006). An academic freedom exception is necessarily grounded in an anti-distortion principle, specifically in the notion that the state may not create or fund an institution of a type ordinarily characterized by academic freedom but then curtail that freedom.

CONCLUSION

       The doctrines explored here undermine substantive accountability in the name of accountability. Those attempting to limit the reach of UE theory and government speech doctrine, whether in the courts, the political branches, or the realm of public debate, must understand that their appeal lies partly in their proponents’ insistence that the doctrines do not undercut accountability but in fact protect accountability. Highlighting the errors of that claim and the danger that the doctrines pose is one small but necessary step in any efforts to staunch their forward march.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1321

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*  William W. Gurley Professor, Northwestern University – Pritzker School of Law. I am very grateful to Erin Miller for inviting me to participate in the symposium for which I wrote this article, to Christina Koningisor for her wonderful turn as discussant for this piece, and to the student editors of the Southern California Law Review for their terrific work in organizing the symposium and editing this piece. I owe many thanks as well to Ronnell Anderson Jones and her colloquium students at the University of Utah Law School and to the faculty at the University of North Carolina Law School for inviting me to present this paper and for their thoughtful questions and comments.

Fear and Free Speech

INTRODUCTION

Fear changes lives. And for this reason, fear sometimes changes the law.

Because of fear’s debilitating effects, the law often forbids behavior that causes its targets to fear for their physical safety. Think of the laws that prohibit threats in order to free their targets “to go about their own lives.”1Kenneth L. Karst, Threats and Meanings: How the Facts Govern First Amendment Doctrine, 58 Stan. L. Rev. 1337, 1345 (2006). Think too of stalking laws that restrict fear-engendering behavior that “violates basic social norms of privacy and consent by persisting even in the face of a lack of consent.”2Genevieve Lakier & Evelyn Douek, The First Amendment Problem of Stalking: Counterman, Stevens, and the Limits of History and Tradition, 113 Calif. L. Rev. 143, 190 (2025).

A different type of fear—speakers’ fear of the government’s punishment—shapes pivotal First Amendment doctrine. The U.S. Supreme Court focused on this fear in Counterman v. Colorado when it held that the First Amendment requires the prosecutor in a “true threats” case to establish the speaker’s recklessness—that is, that the speaker “consciously disregarded a substantial risk” that his statements would make his target fear for her physical safety.3Counterman v. Colorado, 143 S. Ct. 2106, 2111–12 (2023). In the interest of full disclosure, I note that I served on the team representing the state of Colorado in Counterman before the U.S. Supreme Court. In so holding, the majority underscored that requiring such proof “reduc[es] an honest speaker’s fear that he may accidentally [or erroneously] incur liability,” thus “provid[ing] ‘breathing room’ for more valuable speech.”4Id. at 2115 (quoting United States v. Alvarez, 567 U.S. 709, 733 (2012) (Breyer, J., concurring)).

But this doctrinal choice is not without its costs, costs borne by the many targets of threats who lack access to evidence of the speaker’s interior mental state. This is the case, for example, of “[a] delusional speaker [who] may lack awareness of the threatening nature of her speech; a devious speaker [who] may strategically disclaim such awareness; and a lucky speaker [who] may leave behind no evidence of mental state for the government to use against her.”5Counterman, 143 S. Ct. at 2141 (Barrett, J., dissenting); see also Farmer v. Brennan, 511 U.S. 825, 836–37 (1994) (explaining that criminal recklessness requires a subjective showing that the defendant disregarded a risk of harm of which they were aware).

Free speech, of course, is not always free for everyone. A great deal of First Amendment law requires the targets of harmful speech to pay the price for the speaker’s freedom to speak and for the public’s freedom to receive that expression. To illustrate, the Supreme Court’s defamation jurisprudence sometimes requires innocent targets to bear the costs of reputation-damaging falsehoods when those targets cannot prove the speaker’s recklessness.6Gertz v. Robert Welch, Inc., 418 U.S. 323, 342–43 (1974). So too did a grieving father pay, with his pain, for the protected expression of speakers who exploited his loss to amplify their religious and political views.7Snyder v. Phelps, 562 U.S. 443, 460–61 (2011). Doctrinal choices are sometimes difficult because they require courts to pick between important, but incommensurable, values. When push comes to shove, First Amendment law generally chooses to protect speech on matters of public concern—the speech that lies at the core of the First Amendment—at the expense of its targets’ reputation and at the expense of its targets’ freedom from emotional cruelty.8E.g., N.Y. Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254, 270 (1964) (emphasizing “the principle that debate on public issues should be uninhibited, robust, and wide-open, and that it may well include vehement, caustic, and sometimes unpleasantly sharp attacks on government and public officials”).

But different, and difficult, doctrinal choices arise when we recognize that speech interests sometimes lie on both sides of a First Amendment dispute, thus requiring courts to choose between important and commensurate values. As we will see, the fear induced by threats and by stalking can silence targets’ expression at least as directly and frequently as the fear induced by the prospect of the government’s punishment silences speakers’ expression. Consider the many targets who stop going out in public, stop using the phone, stop engaging online, stop making music and other forms of art, and stop participating in public life.9See infra notes 62–71 and accompanying text. Identifying free speech as a “preferred” constitutional value should thus require attention to the free speech costs of law’s failure to adequately protect the targets of threats and stalking.10See Frederick Schauer, Fear, Risk and the First Amendment: Unraveling the “Chilling Effect”, 58 B.U. L. Rev. 685, 732 (1978) (describing the First Amendment as a “preferred value”).

Yet an ostensibly speech-protective Supreme Court failed to acknowledge those costs in Counterman v. Colorado, a case that required it to define the contours of the category of threats unprotected by the First Amendment. “True threats” cause their targets to fear for their physical safety—and this fear, in turn, disrupts those targets’ lives.11See R.A.V. v. City of St. Paul, 505 U.S. 377, 388 (1992) (explaining that the law punishes threats to protect their targets “from the fear of violence, from the disruption that fear engenders, and from the possibility that the threatened violence will occur”). For these reasons, the Supreme Court has long treated true threats as among the handful of speech categories entirely unprotected by the First Amendment.12Id. Until Counterman, however, the Supreme Court had never directly engaged the question of how to determine when speech constitutes an unprotected threat. In the meantime, lower courts disagreed over whether the universe of unprotected threats should be determined through a subjective, or instead, an objective inquiry. Some took a subjective approach, requiring the prosecution (or, in a civil case, the plaintiff) to prove that the speaker intended to make his target fear for her physical safety, thus privileging defendants’ speech interests.13See, e.g., United States v. Bachmeier, 8 F.4th 1059, 1064 (9th Cir. 2021); United States v. Heineman, 767 F.3d 970, 975 (10th Cir. 2014). A majority of lower courts instead approached the problem from the target’s perspective, adopting an objective approach that asked whether the speaker’s statement would cause a reasonable person in the target’s position to fear for their physical safety, thus privileging targets’ interests—including, but not limited to, their speech interests.14See, e.g., United States v. Nishnianidze, 342 F.3d 6, 15 (1st Cir. 2003); Heller v. Bedford Cent. Sch. Dist., 665 F. App’x 49, 51 n.1 (2d Cir. 2016); United States v. White, 670 F.3d 498, 509 (4th Cir. 2012); Porter v. Ascension Par. Sch. Bd., 393 F.3d 608, 616 (5th Cir. 2004); United States v. Stewart, 411 F.3d 825, 828 (7th Cir. 2005); United States v. Ivers, 967 F.3d 709, 718 (8th Cir. 2020).

The Supreme Court resolved this question in Counterman by requiring a subjective standard, holding that speech communicating a serious intent to commit unlawful violence constitutes an unprotected “true threat” only when the prosecution can prove the defendant’s recklessness—in other words, the defendant’s conscious disregard of the risk that his statements could make his target fear for her physical safety.15Counterman v. Colorado, 143 S. Ct. 2106, 2111 (2023). The Counterman Court justified this choice as speech-protective, emphasizing that speakers’ expression might be chilled if they fear punishment under a legal standard too quick to view their speech as threatening.16Id. at 2113 (“Counterman contends . . . that the absence of such a mens rea requirement will chill protected, non-threatening speech. . . . To combat the kind of chill he references, our decisions have often insisted on protecting even some historically unprotected speech through the adoption of a subjective mental-state element. We follow the same path today, holding that the State must prove in true-threats cases that the defendant had some understanding of his statements’ threatening character.”).

But this was not the only speech-protective choice available to the Court. In choosing to privilege the defendant’s speech over the target’s reasonable fear for their physical safety, the majority also effectively chose to privilege the defendant’s speech over the target’s expression. And just as the public loses valuable speech when the prospect of governmental punishment deters speakers from speaking, so too does the public lose valuable speech when the law permits the silencing of targets’ speech.17See infra notes 30–31, 62–71 and accompanying text.

To be sure, we should worry about doctrinal choices that deter valuable speech by making a potential speaker fear that the government will punish them for what they intended as a joke or as political rhetoric. Recall, for example, eighteen-year-old Robert Watts, who was convicted of threatening President Lyndon B. Johnson during the Vietnam War for saying to laughing listeners at a political rally on the Washington, D.C. Mall that “I have already received my draft classification as 1–A and I have got to report for my physical this Monday coming. I am not going. If they ever make me carry a rifle the first man I want to get in my sights is L. B. J.”18Watts v. United States, 394 U.S. 705, 706 (1969) (per curiam). The Supreme Court overturned Watts’s conviction, holding that his speech constituted “political hyperbole” rather than a “true threat” against the president.19Id. at 708 (internal quotation marks omitted).

At the same time, however, we should also worry about doctrinal choices that enable the silencing of targets’ expression by insufficiently protecting those targets from reasonable fear for their physical safety. Think now of musician C.W., the victim in Counterman, who received hundreds of disturbing messages from a complete stranger who repeatedly resisted her efforts to block him. As a result, C.W. stopped walking alone, stopped attending public events, and canceled her own public musical performances.20See Counterman, 143 S. Ct. at 2112. Think too of the many threats to journalists and election officials that silence and suppress their work foundational to a free and fair democracy.21See infra notes 65–71 and accompanying text. The speech-silencing effects of fear-inducing speech are by no means limited to artists and journalists: they extend to all targets, because all are potential speakers.

Courts often resolve difficult First Amendment disputes—including that in Counterman, which called upon the Court to define the contours of a category of unprotected speech—by concluding that the defendant’s speech interests outweigh the target’s substantial but incommensurate interests in reputation or peace, among other values. But threats and stalking cases present even greater challenges for those who consider speech to be a preferred value because commensurate speech interests lie on both sides of these disputes.

The First Amendment issues triggered by the regulation of fear-inducing speech thus require hard choices between speakers’ and targets’ free speech interests, choices that also affect the public’s access to valuable speech. This Article both criticizes the Court’s approach in Counterman and offers a guide to addressing targets’ expressive interests in threats and stalking cases after Counterman. More specifically, it seeks to foster a mindset for considering the First Amendment problems involving fear-inducing speech that attends to targets’ expression as much as defendants’ expression. To this end, it examines the ways in which threats and stalking can silence targets’ speech and deter their participation in public life, and then considers available choices that attend to targets’—not just defendants’—expressive interests.

I. Fear on Both Sides, Speech on Both Sides

This Part starts by describing concerns that fear of government punishment will cause speakers to censor themselves, thus “chilling” their speech. It then explains how the fear induced by threats and stalking can cause their targets to engage in self-censorship of their own.

A. Speakers’ Fear of the Government

 “A chilling effect,” Frederick Schauer explained, occurs “when individuals seeking to engage in activity protected by the first amendment are deterred from so doing by governmental regulation not specifically directed at that protected activity.”22See Schauer, supra note 10, at 693 (emphasis omitted). In other words, concerns about chilling effects anticipate that government’s efforts to modify some unprotected behavior will inadvertently chill protected behavior. As Leslie Kendrick observed, “intuition suggests that some legal rules will chill speech. The further a law encroaches on protected speech, the greater the risk that such speech will be penalized. The more likely speakers are to be penalized, the less they will speak.”23Leslie Kendrick, Speech, Intent, and the Chilling Effect, 54 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 1633, 1638 (2013).

Because chilling effects harm speakers—and the rest of us, too—by stifling the delivery of opinions, facts, and ideas, the Court’s instrumental concerns about chilling effects not infrequently drive its doctrinal choices.24See Monica Youn, The Chilling Effect and the Problem of Private Action, 66 Vand. L. Rev. 1473, 1483 (2013) (“[T]he chilling effect concept does not delineate a discrete, freestanding doctrinal category. . . . [Instead, it informs] a number of procedural, categorical, and substantive doctrines in First Amendment case law.”). Under its defamation jurisprudence, for example, the more valuable the speech potentially chilled by the prospect of defamation liability, the higher the bar for proving the mental state required to establish such liability.25See N.Y.  Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254, 271–72, 279–80 (1964). This doctrine thus requires defamation plaintiffs who are public officials or public figures to show that a speaker made a defamatory statement with “ ‘actual malice’—that is, with knowledge that it was false or with reckless disregard of whether it was false or not”—before they can establish the speaker’s liability for reputation-damaging falsehoods.26Id. at 279–80. The Court has explained this doctrinal innovation as necessary to ensure breathing space for speech critical of those in the public eye or otherwise on matters of public concern—the speech at the core of the First Amendment.27Id. at 271–72.

In the same vein, the Counterman Court explained its doctrinal choice as “based on fear of ‘self-censorship’—the worry that without such a subjective mental-state requirement, the uncertainties and expense of litigation will deter speakers from making even truthful statements.”28Counterman v. Colorado, 143 S. Ct 2106, 2115 (2023) (quoting N.Y. Times, 376 U.S. at 279). In explaining its decision to require the prosecution in a “true threats” case to show the defendant’s reckless mental state, the Court catalogued the ways in which the prospect of the government’s punishment can chill a speaker’s expression by instilling fear of various consequences: “The speaker’s fear of mistaking whether a statement is a threat; his fear of the legal system getting that judgment wrong; his fear, in any event, of incurring legal costs—all those may lead him to swallow words that are in fact not true threats.”29Counterman, 143 S. Ct at 2116; see also id. at 2115 (“The result is ‘self-censorship’ of speech that could not be proscribed—a ‘cautious and restrictive exercise’ of First Amendment freedoms.”) (quoting Gertz v. Welch, 418 U.S. 323, 340 (1974)).

True, so far as it goes. But nowhere did the Counterman majority similarly detail targets’ fear for their physical safety and the resulting costs of such fear—costs that include the silencing of their speech along with many other life disruptions. The silencing of targets’ speech harms the general public, too, by denying it the expression that targets would otherwise deliver.30See infra notes 64–71 and accompanying text. The majority instead simply noted the “profound harms” imposed by threats without specifying those harms.31Counterman, 143 S. Ct at 2117 (noting “the profound harms, to both individuals and society, that attend true threats of violence—as evidenced in this case”). Justice Sotomayor’s concurring opinion was more direct, though brief, in acknowledging the harms to targets: “Stalking can be devastating and dangerous. Lives can be ruined, and in the most tragic instances, lives are lost. . . . Even isolated threatening speech can do real harm. Such speech not only disrupts lives, it can silence the speech of others who become afraid to speak out.” Id. at 2123 (Sotomayor, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment) (citation omitted).

Judges (like other human beings) sometimes mask the difficulty of hard trade-offs—making those trade-offs feel considerably easier than they actually are—by failing to identify and weigh the costs of their choices. As Mary Anne Franks observed, courts’ “concern about chilling effects tends to be highly selective.”32Mary Anne Franks, Fearless Speech, 17 First Amend. L. Rev. 294, 306 (2019). Others have also observed this dynamic. See Danielle Keats Citron, From Bad to Worse: Stalking, Threats, and Chilling Effects, 2023 Sup. Ct. Rev. 175, 180 (2023); R. George Wright, Counterman v. Colorado: True Threats, Speech Harms, and Missed Opportunities, 99 Ind. L.J. 27, 30 (2023). Indeed, even as the Counterman majority described

itself as balancing competing interests, it particularized only speakers’ interests.33See Counterman, 143 S. Ct at 2119.

The majority’s choice may have been motivated not only by its instrumental concerns about chilling defendants’ expression but also by deontic commitments to punish only morally blameworthy speakers. In this vein, the majority described “reckless defendants” as “morally culpable” because they “have done more than make a bad mistake. They have consciously accepted a substantial risk of inflicting serious harm.”34Id. at 2118; see also Kendrick, supra note 23, at 1633 (suggesting that courts’ intuitions about moral culpability contribute to their doctrinal choices in this area because “the difficulties of measuring and remedying chilling effects cast doubt on whether they could ever provide the sole justification for the choice of one intent requirement over another”). But moral principles cut both ways here, too, as the targets of threats themselves are often entirely innocent victims who experience life-changing harm regardless of the speaker’s mental state. Think again of C.W., the victim in Counterman whose daily existence and musical career were “upended” by hundreds of disturbing messages from a man she had never met.35Counterman, 143 S. Ct at 2112. Think too of journalists and election officials targeted by threats who live in fear for their, and their families’, safety for simply doing their jobs—jobs foundational to a functioning democracy.36See infra notes 65–71 and accompanying text. That we can identify deontic as well as instrumental concerns on both sides of these disputes adds to the difficulties in deciding them, difficulties that judges should not obscure.37See Seana Valentine Shiffrin, The Moral Neglect of Negligence, in 3 Oxford Studies in Political Philosophy 213 (David Sobel, Peter Vallentyne & Steven Wall eds., 2017) (describing the moral failures of negligence as involving “a failure to take and exercise appropriate responsibility for one’s agency; and, when that failure involves other people, negligence involves a failure properly to recognize and acknowledge their moral significance”).

B. Targets’ Fear for Their Physical Safety

Threats and stalking are related but distinct in important ways. I use the term “threat” to mean speech that causes its target to fear for their physical safety.38See R.A.V. v. City of St. Paul, 505 U.S. 377, 388 (1992) (explaining that law punishes threats to protect their targets “from the fear of violence, from the disruption that fear engenders, and from the possibility that the threatened violence will occur”). And by “stalking,” I mean repeated and unwelcome conduct, contact, or communication that causes its target fear or other severe emotional distress.39See, e.g., Colo. Rev. Stat. § 18-3-602(1)(c) (2023) (making it unlawful “[r]epeatedly [to] follow[], approach[], contact[], place[] under surveillance, or make[] any form of communication with another person . . . in a manner that would cause a reasonable person to suffer serious emotional distress and does cause that person . . . to suffer serious emotional distress”). Both threats and stalking can inflict life-disrupting fear. But they often do so in different ways: all threats, by definition, involve speech, while stalking sometimes involves only conduct, sometimes only speech, and sometimes a mix of the two.40See infra notes 116–18 and accompanying text; see also Lakier & Douek, supra note 2 (“It is this violation of social norms and its disregard for the autonomy of the listener—her right to withdraw from the relationship and to not have to hear what the speaker has to tell her—that makes stalking speech so frightening. It also threatens the target’s sense of agency and freedom because of its (seemingly unstoppable) intrusion into the victim’s private life.”) And although a speaker may be held liable for a single threatening statement or for many, stalking laws impose liability only for “repeated” unwelcome conduct, contact, or communication.41See infra notes 114–15 and accompanying text.

Fear for one’s physical safety literally changes lives—and not for the better, as fear is among the most debilitating of human experiences. Consider psychologist Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs.42A. H. Maslow, A Theory of Human Motivation, 50 Psych. Rev. 370, 394–95 (1943) (identifying physical safety as among the most important of human goals and thus among those that “monopolize” our time, energy, and attention). Foundational to this hierarchy is our need for physical survival in the form of food, water, shelter, and physical security: only when this need is satisfied can we pursue higher-level social and emotional needs like intimacy, belonging, self-esteem, confidence, and more.43Id. For these reasons, requiring a target to pay for a defendant’s free speech with fear for their physical safety exacts a significantly higher price than requiring them to pay for a defendant’s free speech with their reputation or with their freedom from emotional cruelty.

Fear-inducing speech inflicts harm both physical and mental. One study, for example, reported “high levels of psychopathology among stalking victims,” whose overall psychological distress was about three times higher than that of the general population.44Eric Blaauw, Frans W. Winkel, Ella Arensman, Lorraine Sheridan & Adriënne Freeve, The Toll of Stalking: The Relationship Between Features of Stalking and Psychopathology of Victims, 17 J. Interpersonal Violence 50, 57–58 (2002). Medical evidence demonstrates the life-changing effects of chronic fear that include insomnia and sleep disruptions,45Id.; Jaime Rosenberg, The Effects of Chronic Fear on a Person’s Health, Neuroscience Educ. Inst. Cong. (Nov. 11, 2017), https://www.ajmc.com/view/the-effects-of-chronic-fear-on-a-persons-health [https://perma.cc/M9RM-7JSV]. immune system dysfunction,46Rosenberg, supra note 45. gastrointestinal issues like ulcers and irritable bowel syndrome,47Joe Pierre, How Does Fear Influence Risk Assessment and Decision-Making?, Psych. Today (July 15, 2020), https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/psych-unseen/202007/how-does-fear-influence-risk-assessment-and-decision-making. sexual dysfunction and decreased fertility,48Id. and accelerated aging.49Mai Stafford, Tarani Chandola & Michael Marmot, Association Between Fear of Crime and Mental Health and Physical Functioning, 97 Am. J. Pub. Health 2076, 2078 (2007) (finding that some study participants had “limitations in physical functioning . . . that were commensurate with that of people 9 years” older). Medical evidence also establishes that chronic fear is associated with generally poor mental health,50See Jessica Miles, Straight Outta SCOTUS: Domestic Violence, True Threats, and Free Speech, 74 U. Mia. L. Rev. 711, 735 (2020) (“In addition to an increased risk of physical violence, intimate partner stalking victims suffer from high rates of anxiety and depression.”). with mental health injuries that include anxiety,51Blaauw et al., supra note 44, at 57. depression,52Id. post-traumatic stress disorders,53Sean Wake, Jolie Wormwood & Ajay B. Satpute, The Influence of Fear on Risk Taking: A Meta-Analysis, 34 Cognition & Emotion 1143, 1148 (2020). panic and obsessive compulsive disorders,54Id. impaired formation of long-term memories,55Rosenberg, supra note 45. and suicidal ideation.56Blaauw et al., supra note 44, at 57 (approximately one third of stalking victims reported repeated thoughts about committing suicide). One study found that those who reported higher levels of fear were 50% more likely to show signs of a mental health disorder and 90% more likely to have symptoms of depression than those who reported lower levels of fear.57Stafford et al., supra note 49.

Moreover, the targets of threats and stalking often fear for their physical safety for very good reason. Criminal justice scholar Mary Brewster, for instance, canvassed the experiences of victims of intimate partner violence to conclude that threats served as “a strong and statistically significant predictor of violence.”58Mary P. Brewster, Stalking by Former Intimates: Verbal Threats and Other Predictors of Physical Violence, 15 Violence & Victims 41, 50 (2000); see also Miles, supra note 50, at 734–35 (“Research on stalking demonstrates that a strong correlation exists between intimate partner stalking and physical violence, as eighty-one percent of women who were stalked by a current or former intimate partner were also physically assaulted by that partner.”). By causing targets to fear for their physical safety, threats and stalking not only inflict physical and mental health injuries, but also change the ways in which those targets live their lives.59See Paul E. Mullen & Michele Pathé, Stalking, 29 Crime & Just. 273, 296 (2002) (“All but six of the one hundred victims [surveyed] reported major lifestyle changes and modified their daily activities in direct response to being stalked.”). Stalking, for instance, often forces its targets to miss work,60See Patricia Tjaden & Nancy Thoennes, Nat’l Inst. of Just. & Ctrs. for Disease Control & Prevention, Stalking in America: Findings from the National Violence Against Women Survey 11 (1998), https://www.ojp.gov/pdffiles/169592.pdf [https://perma.cc/BLY2-25T5]; Mullen & Pathé, supra note 59, at 297. to leave their jobs, or their homes.61See Katrina Baum, Shannan Catalano, Michael Rand & Kristina Rose, Bureau of Just. Stat. Special Rep., Stalking Victimization in the United States 6 (2009) (“One in 7 victims reported they moved as a result of the stalking.”); Mullen & Pathé, supra note 59, at 296–97.

Most relevant to this Article, threats and stalking also change their targets’ lives by causing them to speak less, to speak differently, and to participate less in public life. Indeed, the targets of threats and stalking commonly, and reasonably, respond to threats to their physical survival by making themselves silent and invisible.62See Jonathon W. Penney, Understanding Chilling Effects, 106 Minn. L. Rev. 1451, 1510–12 (2022) (“[T]hreats of violence and physical harm are a powerful force for self-censorship, which trigger deeper psychological states of fear, anxiety, and severe emotional distress that then in turn amplify social conformity.” (footnote omitted)). To illustrate, recall the musician’s experience in Counterman: C.W. stopped walking alone, stopped attending other musicians’ events, and canceled her own performances.63See Counterman v. Colorado, 143 S. Ct. 2106, 2112 (2023). Danielle Keats Citron explains how stalking silences protected expression more generally:

[Cyber stalking victims] stop using their phones. Victims change how they express themselves; they are less controversial, more muted, and connect with fewer people. Their withdrawal from online engagement isolates them from friends and family. When victims change their phone numbers to prevent stalkers from calling them, they become unreachable.64Citron, supra note 32, at 198–99.

Consider too the many journalists targeted by threats of death or rape. One recent study found that one in ten journalists surveyed had been threatened with death in the preceding year because of their work;65Erin C. Carroll, Obstruction of Journalism, 99 Denv. L. Rev. 407, 415 (2022). another found that three quarters of female journalists surveyed reported that “they had experienced online abuse, harassment, threats, and attacks.”66Id. at 409. These threats interfere with journalists’ watchdog and educator functions,67See Vincent Blasi, The Checking Value in First Amendment Theory, 2 Am. Bar Found. Rsch. J. 521, 538–39 (1977) (explaining the press’s role as a watchdog for government misconduct); RonNell Andersen Jones, Press Speakers and the First Amendment Rights of Listeners, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 499, 537–43 (2019) (explaining the press’s functions as educating the public on a wide range of matters and serving as the public’s proxy by observing what the public does not have the time or resources or other ability to observe for itself). inflicting injury not only to their individual targets, but also to a public’s hopes for a healthy democracy. Free press scholar Erin Carroll has detailed more specifically how threats inhibit and distort the reporting that journalists produce and that the public thus receives:

Obstruction operates on at least three levels: the story, the beat, and the pipeline. At the story level, threats and abuse prevent journalists from covering particular events or incidents. At the beat level, perpetual abuse around broad topics like politics, economics, and immigration dissuades reporters from aggressively covering these beats or even covering them at all. At the pipeline level, violence leads reporters to leave or consider leaving the profession entirely.68Carroll, supra note 65, at 411.

Illustrating these dynamics more specifically, one study found that 37% of female journalists who reported that they had been threatened, harassed, or attacked indicated they avoided certain stories; 8% changed the content or perspectives of the news that they write about; 16% considered requesting a transfer or different beat and 6% requested a transfer or different beat; and 29% indicated the threats and attacks they received made them think about getting out of the profession.69Michelle Ferrier, TrollBusters & Int’l Women’s Media Found., Attacks and Harassment: The Impact on Female Journalists and Their Reporting 39, 44 (Elisa Lees Munoz ed., 2018), https://www.iwmf.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Attacks-and-Harassment.pdf [https://perma.cc/L4ZU-BCE9].

As additional examples, threats against election officials deter those officials from doing work necessary to the democratic self-governance at the core of the First Amendment. A nationwide study of local election officials found that more than one in three of those surveyed reported that they have experienced threats, harassment, or abuse because of their work; more than half reported that they worry about their colleagues’ safety; more than a quarter worried about their own physical safety; and more than a third reported that they knew of local election officials who had left their jobs at least in part because of fear for their safety.70The Brennan Ctr. for Justice, Local Election Officials Survey 9, 15, 19 (2024), https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/research-reports/local-election-officials-survey-may-2024 [https://perma.cc/C3EN-WUDH]. Not surprisingly, many local jurisdictions now report high levels of turnover among their election officials.71Miles Park, In Some States, More than Half of the Local Election Officials Have Left Since 2020, NPR (Sept. 26, 2023, 5:12 PM), https://www.npr.org/2023/09/26/1200616113/election-official-threats-harassment-turnover [https://perma.cc/7T97-FKL2]; Michael Beckel, Amelia Minkin, Amisa Ratliff, Ariana Rojas, Kathryn Thomas & Adrien Van Voorhis, Issue One, The High Cost of High Turnover 1 (2023), https://issueone.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/The-High-Cost-of-High-Turnover-Report.pdf [https://perma.cc/M53Z-NKD3].

II. Attending to Targets’ Free Speech Interests in Threats and Stalking Cases

As Frederick Schauer observed, courts often choose to err on the side of overprotecting defendants’ speech when crafting First Amendment doctrine:

The chilling effect doctrine reflects the view that the harm caused by the chilling of free speech (or other protected activity) is comparatively greater than the harm resulting from the chilling of the other activities involved. And, the logical and necessary mandate of the chilling effect doctrine is that legal rules be formulated so as to allocate the risk of error away from the preferred value, thereby minimizing the occurrence of those errors which we deem the most harmful.72Schauer, supra note 10, at 705.

The Counterman majority made precisely this choice when it required proof of a speaker’s recklessness as predicate to identifying a “true threat” unprotected by the First Amendment.73See supra notes 15–17, 28–31 and accompanying text.

Again, that is a choice—but by no means the only justifiable, and speech-protective, choice. Because speech interests lie on both sides of threats and stalking cases, those cases require courts to choose not only whether to prefer speakers’ expression over incommensurate harms experienced by targets (like harms to their mental and physical health and their quality of life) but also whether to protect the speaker’s expression at the expense of the target’s expression. This Part considers possibilities for treating targets’ and speakers’ expressive interests in threats and stalking cases with at least the same regard.

A. The First Amendment Argument for Symmetrical Concern for Speakers’ and Targets’ Expressive Interests in Threats Cases

Neither the Counterman majority nor Billy Counterman’s own briefing offered any evidence that anyone’s speech—much less Counterman’s—had been chilled by an objective listener-centered approach (like Colorado’s) for identifying unprotected true threats.74See Brief on the Merits for Respondent at 38–39, 45, Counterman v. Colorado, 143 S. Ct. 2106 (2023) (No. 22-138) (pointing out that Counterman’s anecdotal discussion of fact patterns offered to suggest an objective standard’s potential for chilling did not involve speech prosecuted under a threats theory or involved speech prosecuted under Counterman’s proposed specific intent standard). As dissenting Justice Barrett observed, “objective tests are effectively the status quo today, yet Counterman still struggles to identify past prosecutions that came close to infringing on protected speech.”75Counterman v. Colorado, 143 S. Ct. 2106, 2138 (2023) (Barrett, J., dissenting) (“Before we took this case, the vast majority of Courts of Appeals and state high courts had upheld [statutes that required only an objective showing] as constitutional.”). A number of scholars have noted the limited empirical support for chilling effects concerns. See Suneal Bedi, The Myth of the Chilling Effect, 35 Harv. J.L. & Tech. 267, 307 (2021) (questioning courts’ reliance on chilling effect concerns when crafting doctrine); Jennifer M. Kinsley, Chill, 48 Loy. U. Chi. L.J. 253, 253 (2016) (criticizing chilling effects concerns as making “too may false assumptions about the speakers’ knowledge of the law, their ability to correctly apply the law, and their willingness to conform to the law”); Kendrick, supra note 23, at 1675; Penney, supra note 62, at 1454–55, 1470 (challenging conventional understandings of the chilling effect as “empirically weak” and asserting that most people “are often not sufficiently aware of the law or state activities such that any possible legal harm or sanction could impact their decision about speaking or acting.”); Schauer, supra note 10, at 730 (“While the chilling effect concept appears to be premised upon predictions or assumptions about human behavior, no evidence has been proffered to justify those predictions. It has not been clearly established that individuals are mistakenly deterred or become overly cautious as a result of the existence of particular statutes, rules, or regulations.”). Nevertheless, concern about the law’s chilling effect—that is, the “overdeterrence of benign conduct that occurs incidentally to a law’s legitimate purpose or scope”76Kendrick, supra note 23, at 1649 (emphasis omitted).—is legitimate, indeed intuitively powerful, as a background assumption about how the world works.77See Joseph Blocher & Reva B. Siegel, When Guns Threaten the Public Sphere: A New Account of Public Safety Regulation Under Heller, 116 Nw. U. L. Rev. 139, 186–89 (2021) (discussing the background assumptions that inform the Court’s constitutional doctrine in various areas despite the lack of empirical evidence for such assumptions). For this reason, the Counterman majority was not wrong to worry about chilling effects even absent anecdotal or empirical evidence of chilling.

But courts committed to robust free speech protections should also credit the equally valid premise that a legal standard that fails adequately to protect the targets of threats and stalking will enable the silencing of targets’ speech. Indeed, the First Amendment case for attending to targets’ free speech interests is at least as strong as that for attending to chilling concerns given that targets’ fear for their physical safety demonstrably deters their expression.78See supra notes 62–71 and accompanying text. Just as a speaker’s First Amendment defense need not include evidence that their—or anyone’s—speech was chilled by the prospect that they could be held liable for objectively terrifying statements, a prosecutor or plaintiff need not prove that the target’s—or anyone’s—speech was silenced by their reasonable fear for their physical safety. In short, when developing and applying First Amendment doctrine, courts should weigh the free speech costs borne by the targets of threats and stalking as heavily as the free speech costs borne by speakers chilled by the prospect of the government’s legal action.

The First Amendment argument for this approach gathers additional force when we recognize that targets of threats and stalking cannot meaningfully rely on the traditional self-help remedies of counterspeech and avoidance.79See Whitney v. California, 274 U.S. 357, 377 (1927) (Brandeis, J., concurring) (“If there be time to expose through discussion the falsehood and fallacies, to avert the evil by the processes of education, the remedy to be applied is more speech, not enforced silence.”). For example, only 9% of stalking victims surveyed who tried to discourage their stalkers reported that their engagement improved the situation.80Mary P. Brewster, An Exploration of the Experiences and Needs of Former Intimate Stalking Victims 47 (1998), https://www.ojp.gov/pdffiles1/nij/grants/175475.pdf [https://perma.cc/7VZM-94AX]; see also James Geistman, Brad Smith, Eric G. Lambert & Terry Cluse-Tolar, What to Do About Stalking: A Preliminary Study of How Stalking Victims Responded to Stalking and Their Perceptions of the Effectiveness of These Actions, 26 Crim. Just. Stud. 43, 60 (2013) (“Our findings suggest that stalking victims who confronted stalkers on their own, regardless of whether they were victims of violent or nonviolent stalking, were likely to perceive that their efforts were ineffective. In some cases, their responses had the opposite effect and the victims reported that the stalking behavior worsened.”). A target’s engagement with a stalker through counterspeech can aggravate and escalate the stalker’s behavior81See Mullen & Pathé, supra note 59, at 294 (reporting that some “stalkers will react with extreme violence to their victim’s repeated rebuffs”). and can fuel a stalker’s delusions of an actual relationship with the target by “gratify[ing] the stalker’s wishes to have, and to hold onto, a relationship and reinforc[ing] the pursuit.”82Id.; see also id. at 310 (reporting that “any contact with the perpetrator, however intermittent, will reinforce the unwanted behavior”); Mary Anne Franks, How Stalking Became Free Speech: Counterman v. Colorado and the Supreme Court’s Continuing War on Women, Geo. Wash. L. Rev. On Docket (2022), https://www.gwlr.org/how-stalking-became-free-speech-counterman-v-colorado-and-the-supreme-courts-continuing-war-on-women [https://perma.cc/E2BZ-MYZK] (“[S]talkers often sincerely believe that their behavior is welcome. These delusional beliefs make them more, not less, dangerous to their victims.” (footnote omitted)). For these reasons, targets are often counseled not to engage with stalkers.83See Stalking Prevention, Awareness & Res. Ctr., Stalking Safety Strategies 2 (2022), https://www.stalkingawareness.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/Safety-Strategies.pdf [https://perma.cc/FP8G-KMH2] (“Consider cutting off any and all communication with the stalker. Many stalkers misinterpret any contact (even negative contact) as encouragement.”). Nor, due to limited resources, can many targets protect themselves through avoidance. “[M]oving to a new home or changing jobs or schools to avoid threatened violence are less likely to be options for domestic violence victims than for other threat victims,” legal scholar Jessica Miles explains.84Miles, supra note 50, at 736; see also id. at 736–37 (“The relationship between poverty and the increased likelihood of violence is further supported by research that shows that domestic violence victims with the fewest resources experience the highest rates of repeat abuse.”).

A target-centered approach is not without precedent, as the Supreme Court sometimes chooses to shape categories of less-protected speech in ways that privilege listeners’ interests when those listeners cannot protect themselves from harmful speech through rebuttal or escape: this is often the case when speakers enjoy advantages of information or power (or both) over their listeners.85Elsewhere, I have examined settings involving these asymmetries in more detail. See generally Helen Norton, What Twenty-First-Century Free Speech Law Means for Securities Regulation, 99 Notre Dame L. Rev. 97 (2023) (discussing corporations’ speech to investors and shareholders); Helen Norton, Manipulation and the First Amendment, 30 Wm. & Mary Bill Rts. J. 221 (2021) (discussing online platforms’ interactions with their users); Helen Norton, Discrimination, the Speech That Enables It, and the First Amendment, 2020 U. Chi. Legal F. 209 (2020) (discussing employers’ speech to workers); Helen Norton, Powerful Speakers and Their Listeners, 90 U. Colo. L. Rev. 441 (2019) [hereinafter Norton, Powerful Speakers and Their Listeners] (describing asymmetries of information and power between speakers and listeners in several contexts); Helen Norton, Pregnancy and the First Amendment, 87 Fordham L. Rev. 2417 (2019) (discussing the speech of those providing reproductive health care services to pregnant women); Helen Norton, Robotic Speakers and Human Listeners, 41 Seattle U. L. Rev. 1145 (2018) (discussing communications produced by artificial intelligence); Helen Norton, Truth and Lies in the Workplace: Employer Speech and the First Amendment, 101 Minn. L. Rev. 31 (2016) (discussing employers’ speech to workers); Helen Norton, Secrets, Lies, and Disclosures, 27 J.L. & Pol. 641 (2012) (discussing campaign speakers’ and donors’ speech to voters). Recall the Court’s defamation jurisprudence, which requires public officials and public figures to show a speaker’s recklessness (in other words, “actual malice”) before imposing liability for that speaker’s reputation-damaging falsehoods, while relaxing the showing required of private-figure plaintiffs with less ability to remedy reputational harm themselves through counterspeech. More specifically, the Court enables private figures to recover presumed and punitive damages for defamatory falsehoods on matters of private concern without any showing of the speaker’s recklessness.86Dun & Bradstreet, Inc. v. Greenmoss Builders, Inc., 472 U.S. 749, 761 (1985) (plurality opinion). The Supreme Court also understands the First Amendment to permit defamation plaintiffs who are private figures to recover actual damages for defamatory falsehoods on matters of public concern upon a showing of the speaker’s negligence (but requires proof of the speaker’s actual malice to recover presumed or punitive damages in such cases). Gertz v. Robert Welch, Inc., 418 U.S. 323, 347–50 (1974). While this more target-friendly choice rests in great part on the lower First Amendment value of reputation-damaging falsehoods that do not address matters of public concern, it also turns on private figures’ more limited ability (compared to public officials) to protect their reputational interests through rebuttal:

Public officials and public figures usually enjoy significantly greater access to the channels of effective communication and hence have a more realistic opportunity to counteract false statements than private individuals normally enjoy. Private individuals are therefore more vulnerable to injury, and the state interest in protecting them is correspondingly greater.87Gertz, 418 U.S. at 344 (footnote omitted).

When balancing speakers’ expressive interests against private figures’ non-speech (that is, reputational) interests for defamation purposes, the Court thus requires targets to prove no more than a speaker’s recklessness—and sometimes only their negligence. More powerful still is the First Amendment argument for privileging targets’ free speech interests over those of speakers’, especially when those targets cannot meaningfully protect themselves through the traditional self-help remedies of exit and voice. In other words, although recklessness might be an appropriate First Amendment compromise in threats cases if courts were simply balancing defendants’ speech interests against targets’ incommensurate non-speech interests in health and quality of life, recklessness is a much less obvious First Amendment choice if we attend to both parties’ speech interests.

As an illustration, consider the Court’s listener-centered understanding of the First Amendment that treats “false or misleading” commercial speech as entirely unprotected by the First Amendment because of the harm it inflicts on targets’ (consumers’) First Amendment interests in making informed and autonomous decisions regardless of the commercial speaker’s mental state.88Cent. Hudson Gas & Elec. Corp. v. Pub. Serv. Comm’n of New York, 447 U.S. 557, 563–64 (1980) (“The First Amendment’s concern for commercial speech is based on the informational function of advertising. Consequently, there can be no constitutional objection to the suppression of commercial messages that do not accurately inform the public about lawful activity.” (citation omitted)); see also Zauderer v. Off. of Disciplinary Couns., 471 U.S. 626, 638 (1985) (“The States and the Federal Government are free to prevent the dissemination of commercial speech that is false, deceptive, or misleading . . . .”). This listener-centered approach also recognizes that consumers cannot meaningfully protect themselves from these informational harms, because commercial actors have considerably greater access to accurate information about their own goods and services than do consumers.89See Norton, Powerful Speakers and Their Listeners, supra note 85, at 446–48 (explaining commercial actors’ informational advantages over consumers). For these reasons, many false advertising laws have long prohibited false or misleading commercial speech—regardless of the commercial speaker’s mental state—because of the harm posed to consumers as the targets of such speech.90E.g., Aaron v. SEC, 446 U.S. 680, 696–702 (1980) (Section 17(a)(3) of the Securities Act of 1933 “quite plainly focuses upon the effect of particular conduct on members of the investing public, rather than upon the culpability of the person responsible”); FTC v. Algoma Lumber Co., 291 U.S. 67, 81 (1934) (explaining that advertisers’ lack of culpable mental state does not insulate them from liability under the Federal Trade Commission Act’s bar on deceptive trade practices). 

Because fear—and speech—are on both sides of threats and stalking cases, a robust understanding of the Free Speech Clause supports a standard similarly attentive to targets’ expressive interests. To be clear, my point is not that the First Amendment necessarily requires a listener-centered standard when the free speech interests of speakers and their targets collide. But neither does the First Amendment require a speaker-centered standard when we must choose between speakers’ and targets’ expression. I suggest instead that the First Amendment permits—indeed, supports—governmental choices to privilege targets’ free speech interests in certain settings. To this end, I urge that the First Amendment doctrine of threats and stalking cases treat the free speech costs borne by speakers and targets with at least equal concern. This symmetrical concern for speakers’ and targets’ expression in threats cases recognizes that objective listener-centered standards advance free speech as least as much as subjective speaker-centered standards. This approach thus understands the First Amendment to permit legislatures or courts to choose from a range of speech-protective standards such that the Counterman Court was wrong to deny Colorado’s Supreme Court that choice.

What might this symmetrical concern look like in practice? The rest of this Article identifies some possibilities.

B. The Counterman Court’s Missed Opportunity: Defining Unprotected True Threats Through an Objective Target-Centered Standard

Start with the road not taken by the Counterman majority: the Colorado Supreme Court’s objective target-centered approach for identifying unprotected true threats. Developed in a case involving high school students’ heated late-night Twitter (now known as “X”) argument shortly after a local school shooting, that context-driven standard required courts to consider the surrounding circumstances to determine whether “an intended or foreseeable recipient would reasonably perceive [the statement(s)] as a serious expression of intent to commit an act of unlawful violence.”91In re R.D., 464 P.3d 717, 721, 731 (Colo. 2020), abrogated by Counterman v. Colorado, 600 U.S. 66 (2023). In my view, this test treated speakers’ and targets’ free speech interests with equal concern by requiring courts to consider multiple factors that attend to both sets of interests.92This Article focuses on the appropriate First Amendment analysis for threats and stalking cases that involve demonstrably direct collisions between speakers’ and targets’ speech interests—and to be sure, this includes attention to the speech-silencing harm of hate speech that takes the form of threats or stalking. See Virginia v. Black, 538 U.S. 343, 363 (2003) (considering cross-burning’s potential as a “particularly virulent” type of threat given its “long and pernicious history as a signal of impending violence”). This Article does not, however, address the First Amendment analysis to be applied to hate speech or harassment that does not cause the target to fear for their physical safety. See Snyder v. Phelps, 562 U.S. 443, 458–59 (2011) (holding that the First Amendment protected hate speech on a matter of public concern in a context that did not cause a target’s potentially speech-silencing fear for their physical safety). Note, however, that objective standards like Colorado’s approach also protect the equality interests of members of marginalized communities who both disproportionately experience enforcement action as speakers and disproportionately experience threats and stalking as targets. See Counterman, 143 S. Ct. at 2122–23 (Sotomayor, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment) (“The burdens of overcriminalization will fall hardest on certain groups . . . . Members of certain groups, including religious and cultural minorities, can also use language that is more susceptible to being misinterpreted by outsiders. And unfortunately, yet predictably, racial and cultural stereotypes can also influence whether speech is perceived as dangerous.”); Danielle Keats Citron, Cyber Civil Rights, 89 B.U. L. Rev. 61, 69–81 (2009) (describing how cyberharassment disproportionately targets women and people of color). These factors included:

  • The statement’s role in any broader exchange or events—for example, whether the statement “was spontaneous or [instead] responsive to some other communication,” where statements that matched the “overall tone” of a conversation in which it joined were less likely to be experienced as objectively terrifying.93In re R.D., 464 P.3d at 732.
  • The medium or platform through which the statement was communicated (including any “distinctive conventions or architectural features”)—where, for example, “prevailing norms in a particular genre” or forum might “recast violent language in a less threatening light.”94Id. at 731–32; see also Lyrissa Barnett Lidsky & Linda Riedemann Norbut, #I🔫U: Considering the Context of Online Threats, 106 Calif. L. Rev. 1885, 1910–28 (2018) (discussing how platforms’ architectural features affect the meaning of posts on those platforms and the value of expert witnesses in explaining the meaning of speech in these settings).
  • The manner in which the statement was conveyed (“e.g., anonymously or not, privately or publicly”95In re R.D., 464 P.3d at 722.)—in which, depending on the context, the speaker’s anonymity and the choice to personally target the statements rather than direct them to a large public audience might cause a reasonable target to experience the statements as threatening.
  • Any relationship between the speaker and target—including any history of violence, the speaker’s awareness of the target’s particular vulnerabilities, or the target’s awareness of the speaker’s patterns of speech or emotional state.96Id. at 733.
  • The audience’s subjective reaction: Contrast Watts v. United States, in which the Court relied in part on the audience’s laughter to identify a statement as protected political hyperbole rather than an unprotected threat97Watts v. United States, 394 U.S. 705, 707 (1969) (per curiam).with statements that prompt their audience to report their concerns about potential violence with law enforcement or trusted adults.98In re R.D., 464 P.3d at 733.

C. Target-Attentive Approaches to Threats Cases After Counterman

Unless and until the Court chooses to revisit its decision in Counterman, however, an objective context-driven standard is precluded in threats cases, which now require prosecutors and plaintiffs to establish a speaker’s recklessness before imposing criminal or civil punishment.99See supra note 3 and accompanying text. That the same First Amendment standard applies to both criminal and civil law settings (like civil protection orders) only raises the expressive stakes of this requirement.100See Counterman v. Colorado, 143 S. Ct. 2106, 2140 (2023) (Barrett, J., dissenting) (“[T]his case is about the scope of the First Amendment, not the interpretation of a criminal statute. Accordingly, the Court’s holding affects the civil consequences for true threats just as much as it restricts criminal liability.”); see also id. at 2140–41 (canvassing the consequences of a recklessness requirement for targets’ ability to secure civil protections from threats through restraining orders, civil enforcement statutes, and school discipline). Counterman and its limitations now present new choices among available approaches, some more attentive to targets’ free speech interests than others.

First, because Counterman establishes recklessness as a First Amendment floor and not a ceiling,101See id. at 2139 (“The optimal balance strikes me as a question best left to the legislature, which could calibrate the mens rea to the circumstance—for example, higher for the criminal context and lower for the civil.”). legislatures remain free to impose even higher levels of mens rea (like intent or knowledge) as a condition of criminal or civil liability. And some do.102E.g., Cal. Penal Code § 76 (prohibiting threats of “any elected public official” made with the speaker’s “specific intent that the statement is to be taken as a threat”); Mass. Gen. Laws ch. 258E, § 1 (2025) (defining harassment (in other words, actionable threats) as “3 or more acts of willful and malicious conduct aimed at a specific person committed with the intent to cause fear, intimidation, abuse or damage to property”). But Counterman does not require legislatures to so choose. Attention to targets’ free speech interests thus supports the legislative choice, consistent with free speech values, not to require any subjective mental state greater than recklessness, which already leaves targets unprotected in the many threats cases in which targets lack access to evidence of the defendant’s interior mental state.103See supra notes 4–5 and accompanying text.

Second, courts’ recklessness determinations in threats cases can sometimes be informed by targets’ experiences. The Counterman majority articulated its recklessness standard as focused on the defendant’s “insufficient concern with risk, rather than awareness of impending harm.”104Counterman, 143 S. Ct. at 2117. A law requiring the defendant’s “awareness of impending harm,” in contrast, requires the prosecution to prove a defendant’s awareness “that [a] result is practically certain to follow.” Id. (quoting United States v. Bailey, 444 U.S. 394, 404 (1980)). As the Court explained in an earlier decision, “[t]hat risk need not come anywhere close to a likelihood. Speeding through a crowded area may count as reckless even though the motorist’s ‘chances of hitting anyone are far less [than] 50%.’ ”105Borden v. United States, 141 S. Ct. 1817, 1824 (2021) (quoting Wayne R. LaFave, Substantive Criminal Law § 5.4(f) (3d ed. 2018)). To demonstrate a defendant’s conscious disregard “of a substantial risk” that his statements would cause his target to fear for her physical safety, prosecutors and plaintiffs may present circumstantial evidence of recklessness—that is, evidence that the defendant ignored “obvious” risks or knew of facts that would have made the danger obvious to someone in the defendant’s situation.106See Farmer v. Brennan, 511 U.S. 825, 842 (1994) (Whether the defendant “had the requisite knowledge of a substantial risk is a question of fact subject to demonstration in the usual ways, including inference from circumstantial evidence, and a factfinder may conclude that [the defendant] knew of a substantial risk from the very fact that the risk was obvious.” (citation omitted)). To be sure, the defendant remains free to introduce evidence that they were unaware of risks that others would find obvious.107See id. at 844 (“[I]t remains open to the [defendants] to prove that they were unaware even of an obvious risk to inmate health or safety. That a trier of fact may infer knowledge from the obvious, in other words, does not mean that it must do so.”). Whether these risks are obvious to the defendant can sometimes be informed by the target’s experience and behavior. For instance, a defendant’s awareness that his target had repeatedly blocked his calls, texts, or other messages—an awareness perhaps demonstrated by his creation of new accounts from which to message his target—can show that he was aware of “obvious” risks that his target experienced his communications as threatening. So, too, could his awareness that his target had changed her expressive (or other) behavior in response to his statements.108See Lyrissa Barnett Lidsky & RonNell Andersen Jones, Of Reasonable Readers and Unreasonable Speakers: Libel Law in a Networked World, 23 Va. J. Soc. Pol’y & L. 155, 177 (2016) (predicting that skeptical juries “will rarely accept a defendant’s argument that she truly believed her delusional and defamatory statements”).

Of course, a target could ensure that a speaker was aware of this risk by telling him that she experienced his statements as threatening—but, as discussed above, such engagement can itself be existentially dangerous.109See supra notes 82–83 and accompanying text. This remains among Counterman’s major deficits in choosing a recklessness inquiry focused on the defendant’s interior mental state rather than threats’ speech-silencing effects on their targets.

D. Target-Attentive Approaches to the Many Stalking Cases That Do Not Involve Threats and Where Counterman Thus Does Not Apply

As explained above, stalking laws protect targets from speech-silencing and life-disrupting fear in ways related to, but distinct from, the protections offered by threats laws.110See supra notes 38–41 and accompanying text. While threats laws address speech that causes its target to fear for their physical safety, stalking laws address fear induced by repeated and unwelcome conduct, contact, or communication. Many stalking cases thus do not, and need not, turn on any allegedly threatening content of the speaker’s communications. In those cases, the default First Amendment rules applynot Counterman’s recklessness requirement.111E.g., State v. Labbe, 314 A.3d 162, 179 (Me. 2024) (“Some stalking prosecutions, like Counterman’s, may rely in whole or in part on words used by a defendant to establish the ‘course of conduct’ and consequent effect upon the victim. It does not follow, however, that the Counterman standard applies to every stalking prosecution in which words are spoken or electronic communication devices are used. Rather, Counterman’s holding is clear: where the State relies on the content of a defendant’s expression as the basis for a stalking charge and to establish harm to the victim, the additional requirement to prove subjective mens rea of recklessness applies.”). Nevertheless, because Counterman addressed threats in the context of a stalking case, the danger remains that courts will inappropriately apply its recklessness standard to stalking cases that do not involve threats.112Indeed, for a time this was the case in Colorado, until the state supreme court overruled a trial court’s holding that a prosecutor had to prove recklessness in a stalking case even though the prosecutor made clear that he would not be proceeding under a true threats theory. People v. Crawford, No. 24SA226, slip op. at *P2 (Colo. May 12, 2025) (holding that “the charges the prosecution brought here, carefully based on repeated actions—including contacts (i.e., texts, phone calls, and emails) but not their contents— do not require proof that the defendant communicated or otherwise acted with a reckless state of mind.”). In the interest of full disclosure, I note that I served on the team representing Colorado’s Attorney General in an amicus filing before the state supreme court in Crawford.

So the first step in attending to stalking targets’ free speech interests is to make sure that courts understand that Counterman’s recklessness requirement does not apply to stalking cases that do not allege unprotected true threats.113See Citron, supra note 32, at 204 (“Counterman did not rule that unprotected true threats are necessary for cyber stalking convictions to comport with the First Amendment. But law enforcers could get the [mistaken] impression that now there must be proof of recklessly made threats in any cyber stalking case.”). The second step is to engage targets’ free speech interests when applying the appropriate First Amendment analysis in the many stalking cases that do not involve threats—and where the free speech costs to the target remain substantial while the defendant’s expressive interests are low (since the repeated and unwelcome nature of stalking, rather than its content, often induces fear).114See Lakier & Douek, supra note 2, at 192 (discussing how an endless of barrage of messages can cause fear regardless of their content: “Their mere presence in her inbox, the fact of their constant arrival, that they just did not stop, made [the defendant’s messages] distressing regardless of what they said”).

To illustrate how courts’ assessment of First Amendment challenges to the enforcement of anti-stalking laws can attend to targets’ free speech interests, consider the following fact patterns:

  • Defendant (D) repeatedly follows and watches Target (T) as they walk to and from their car to their office, gym, grocery store, and home;
  • D calls T every morning and hangs up as soon as they answer;
  • D calls T every morning and says, “Hello, beautiful” when T answers; and
  • D calls T every morning and says, “Die” when T answers.

Each of these fact patterns involves repeated and unwelcome behaviors that, depending on the circumstances, could cause a reasonable person to experience fear and thus violate a state’s stalking statute.115E.g., Colo. Rev. Stat. § 18-3-602(1)(c) (2022) (making it unlawful “[r]epeatedly [to] follow[], approach[], contact[], place[] under surveillance, or make[] any form of communication with another person” in “a manner that would cause a reasonable person to suffer serious emotional distress and does cause that person . . . to suffer serious emotional distress”). But some of the fact patterns do so in ways that involve no communication—or if they do involve communication, they do so regardless of the communication’s content.

In short, as this Section explains, the government’s prosecution of conduct normally triggers no First Amendment review. If a defendant nevertheless seeks to challenge the prosecution of conduct on First Amendment grounds, the defendant would have to establish that their conduct was sufficiently expressive to warrant First Amendment protection. If a court determines the conduct to be expressive, then intermediate scrutiny applies. If a defendant challenges the content-neutral prosecution of speech (for example, repeated and unwelcome communications regardless of any threatening content), then again intermediate scrutiny applies. These analyses can, and should, foreground targets’, as well as speakers’, free speech interests.

  1. Stalking That Takes the Form of Conduct Only

Fact patterns A (repeatedly following and watching the target) and B (repeatedly dialing the target’s phone number and hanging up without speaking) involve stalking that takes the form of repeated unwelcome conduct, not speech, since the speaker makes no oral or written communication. Consider these additional illustrations of such courses of conduct: a speaker that “send[s] envelopes of unknown white powder to the victim in the mail;” “repeatedly infect[s] the victim’s computers with viruses;” “open[s] unwanted on-line dating profiles under the victim’s identity;” or “arrange[s] every day for deliveries to be made at the victim’s home at all hours of the night.”116United States v. Ackell, 907 F.3d 67, 73 (1st Cir. 2018) (discussing how stalking often takes the form of conduct rather than speech).

Here, the government seeks to regulate what the defendant did, not what they said.117See Rumsfeld v. F. for Acad. & Institutional Rts., Inc., 547 U.S. 47, 60 (2006) (explaining that federal law regulates “conduct, not speech” when “[i]t affects what law schools must do—afford equal access to military recruiters—not what they may or may not say”). (As Genevieve Lakier and Evelyn Douek explain, “the term stalking was borrowed from the hunting context to emphasize the similarities between the way a hunter stalks their prey and the practices of surveillance and following that characterized the first well-publicized stalking cases.”118Lakier & Douek, supra note 2, at 147.) Stalking laws thus frequently address conduct with only incidental burdens on expression—triggering (and generally satisfying) no more than intermediate scrutiny.

More specifically, the First Amendment analysis of the government’s regulation of such repeated and unwelcome conduct should either be rational basis review (if the court determines the conduct to be nonexpressive) or intermediate scrutiny (if the court determines the conduct to be expressive).119Rumsfeld, 547 U.S. at 65–66 (considering whether regulated conduct is sufficiently expressive to trigger First Amendment review). Determining whether regulated conduct is sufficiently expressive to trigger intermediate scrutiny generally turns on whether the actor intends to communicate a message through their conduct and whether onlookers reasonably understand the actor to be delivering a message through their conduct.120Texas v. Johnson, 491 U.S. 397, 404 (1989); Spence v. Washington, 418 U.S. 405, 410–11 (1974) (per curiam).

When a speaker repeatedly follows and watches their target, do they intend to communicate a message, and does their target understand them to be communicating a message? If, depending on the facts, the answer is “no,” deferential rational basis review will apply to the government’s enforcement.121E.g., Corrigan v. State, No. A23-1942, 2024 Minn. App. Unpub. LEXIS 604 at *10 (Minn. Ct. App. July 22, 2024) (“[The challenger’s] conviction here was based on his conduct in following, monitoring, or pursuing the other driver and not on the content of his expressions or speech. Thus, the holding in Counterman does not apply to [his] case.”). Perhaps some will take the view, however, that this conduct is expressive. For example, a speaker who repeatedly calls and hangs up on their target without saying anything (maybe only breathing heavily) might seek to send, and might be understood as communicating, a message of possessiveness, hostility, or even love toward the target such that application of the stalking law regulates repeated and unwelcome conduct that incidentally burdens expression.122See United States v. O’Brien, 391 U.S. 367 (1968) (applying intermediate scrutiny to the government’s restriction of expressive conduct and holding that the law satisfied such scrutiny because it was narrowly tailored to the government’s significant regulatory interest). Here, too, the First Amendment analysis should remain attentive to the target’s expressive interests. For example, the application of stalking law to this conduct satisfies intermediate scrutiny when the government’s regulatory interests are unrelated to the suppression of ideas and when the enforcement action instead seeks to address the life-disrupting—including speech-silencing—effects of conduct that has little if any First Amendment value of its own.123See R.A.V. v. City of St. Paul, 505 U.S. 377, 390 (1992) (“Where the government does not target conduct on the basis of its expressive content, acts are not shielded from regulation merely because they express a discriminatory idea or philosophy.”); Wisconsin v. Mitchell, 508 U.S. 476, 487 (1993) (explaining that state hate crimes statute targets violent conduct unprotected by First Amendment).

The Supreme Court’s analysis of First Amendment challenges to the enforcement of hate crimes laws to punish certain acts of violence illustrates these dynamics. Even when a defendant’s violence might seek to communicate, and be understood as communicating, a message of hatred based on the target’s protected class status, the Court has described hate crimes laws as the government’s constitutionally permissible regulation of conduct.124Mitchell, 508 U.S. at 487. Along the same lines, the Court has stated that the First Amendment poses no bar to the government’s regulation of verbal harassment in the workplace that “produce[s] a violation of Title VII’s general prohibition against sexual discrimination in employment practices.”125R.A.V., 505 U.S. at 389–90. In these cases, the Court did not state whether the regulated conduct—violent hate crimes and workplace harassment—was sufficiently expressive to trigger intermediate scrutiny, suggesting instead that the conduct did not merit First Amendment protection regardless of the review applied.126See id.; see also Mitchell, 508 U.S. at 487. Lower courts have taken similar approaches, for example, when holding that laws prohibiting the physical obstruction of reproductive health care facilities to ensure access to lawful health care services satisfy intermediate scrutiny even though the regulated obstruction may seek to communicate a message and be understood as communicating a message.127Terry v. Reno, 101 F.3d 1412, 1419 (D.C. Cir. 1996).

  1. Stalking That Takes the Form of Communications That Instill Fear Regardless of Their Content

Turn next to stalking prosecutions of communications that cause fear because of their repeated and unwelcome nature—in other words, because of those communications’ frequency, volume, or persistence rather than their content.128See Counterman v. Colorado, 143 S. Ct. 2106, 86 (Sotomayor, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment) (“The content of the repeated communications can sometimes be irrelevant, such as persistently calling someone and hanging up, or a stream of ‘utterly prosaic’ communications.” (quoting Id. at 2111–12)); State v. Labbe, 314 A.3d 162, 179–80 (Me. 2024) (“The ‘course of conduct’ for which [the defendant] was indicted and convicted involved a series of electronic communications—phone calls and texts—to the victim during a period of several weeks. Viewed in the context of the record as a whole, the stalking charge here was not predicated on the content of those communications but rather on the act of communicating itself—the repeated, unwelcome contact carried out through electronic devices—even after he was asked to stop; even after his possessions were returned; and even after he had been served with a protection order prohibiting him from having any direct or indirect contact with the victim. . . . This is plainly evident from the record. The content of the calls and messages was not threatening (‘utterly prosaic’); some were devoid of meaningful content; some were unanswered or were merely hang-ups; one consisted of dead air and just breathing.”). This can be the case, for example, of fact pattern C, where the defendant called the target every day with prosaic messages like “Hello beautiful.” Or by leaving a daily message on the target’s answering machine playing the target’s favorite song. Along the same lines, consider a speaker who made:

“multiple [phone calls] throughout the evening, often ‘back-to-back,’ ” and “into the early morning hours,” despite being told that he “needed to stop calling” and “I don’t want you calling this house anymore.” When the complainant unplugged her phone, the defendant then called each of her parents and he was again told not to call. A few days later, he showed up at the complainant’s apartment building and “stood outside for a couple of minutes,” until he was directed to leave by security. Then he returned the following day again, and “security informed him that he was not permitted in the building.” Several months later, he again placed “nonstop calls” to the complainant from 1:30 a.m. to 3:00 a.m., and during that time he again showed up to the complainant’s apartment and tried calling her from the apartment’s call box. He then tried sneaking into the apartment building to get to the complainant, but was again thwarted. Notice that we have not said one word about the content of the defendant’s speech . . . because it was immaterial to his stalking conviction. He could have been trying to sell his victim a vacuum cleaner and the above actions would still have amounted to stalking.129Mashaud v. Boone, 295 A.3d 1139, 1161 (D.C. 2023) (citations omitted) (describing the facts in Atkinson v. United States, 121 A.3d 780 (D.C. 2015)).

The content-neutral regulation of such repeated and unwelcome communications again triggers intermediate scrutiny, in which courts again assess whether the restriction is narrowly tailored to serve a significant government interest. Courts undertaking this intermediate scrutiny consider, among other things, whether the government’s content-neutral regulation leaves open ample alternative means of expression.130See Frisby v. Schultz, 487 U.S. 474, 484–88 (1988) (upholding a town’s content-neutral ban on picketing targeted at specific homes as narrowly tailored to achieve the government’s significant interest in protecting residential privacy, especially because it left untouched ample alternative means of communication like distributing literature door-to-door). Moreover, the Supreme Court has made clear that the government’s content-neutral speech regulation “need not be the least restrictive or least intrusive means of” achieving its interests; instead, the government’s content-neutral regulation of speech satisfies intermediate scrutiny when it advances a substantial government interest that would otherwise be achieved less effectively.131Ward v. Rock Against Racism, 491 U.S. 781, 798–99 (1989).

Here, too, this analysis can and should foreground targets’—not just speakers’—free speech interests. The content-neutral application of stalking law to repeated and unwelcome communications regardless of their content satisfies intermediate scrutiny when the government’s regulatory interests are unrelated to the suppression of ideas and when the enforcement action instead seeks to address the life-disrupting—including speech-silencing—effects of repeated and unwelcome communications. That the traditional self-help remedies of exit and voice are so often ineffective—and indeed, frequently dangerous—for their targets further support the enforcement of stalking law as a narrowly tailored response.

  1. Stalking That Takes the Form of Threatening Speech

Depending on the circumstances, fact pattern D (daily messages telling the target to “die”) might support a content-neutral stalking prosecution based on the communications’ repeated and unwelcome time, place, and manner, regardless of their content. And depending on the circumstances, fact pattern D may also support prosecution as true threats, which now requires proof of the defendant’s conscious disregard of the risk that his statements were causing his target to fear for her physical safety in addition to proof of each of the statutory elements. Note that these two possibilities require prosecutors and plaintiffs, as a strategic matter, to choose between distinct theories that trigger different First Amendment analyses.132See Lakier & Douek, supra note 2, at 203 (“[L]ike most stalking laws, the Colorado law under which Counterman was convicted not only requires that the emotionally distressing communications be made on multiple occasions but also requires proof that those speech acts have a significant emotionally distressing effect on their recipient, and reasonably so. All of these requirements cabin the reach of the law and ensure that what it punishes is sustained and abusive communication, not an isolated, and therefore potentially misconstrued, speech act.”).

  1. Stalking That Involves Both Conduct and Speech

The foregoing examples illustrate how the variety of repeated and unwelcome behaviors that constitute stalking can invite enforcement under different theories that trigger distinct First Amendment analyses. Some fact patterns involve repeated and unwelcome fear-inducing conduct—and, depending on the facts, that conduct may or may not be expressive. Some involve repeated and unwelcome speech that induces fear not because of its content but because of its repeated and unwelcome time, place, or manner. Some involve repeated and unwelcome speech that induces fear at least in part because of its threatening content.133See, e.g., State v. Lindell, 828 N.W.2d 1, 2–3 (Iowa 2013) (upholding stalking conviction based on repeated contact that included both speech and conduct like a “handwritten note and flowers,” “hang-up calls,” physical surveillance, and damage to personal property). And some fact patterns may involve combinations that invite prosecutors and plaintiffs to make strategic choices among multiple theories.134Again, theories that do not rely on evidence of speech of a threatening nature as an element of the case do not trigger Counterman’s recklessness requirement. But see Lakier & Douek, supra note 2, at 169 (expressing skepticism that stalking laws can be applied to communications in content-neutral ways, and canvassing the relevant regulatory tradition to suggest the possibility of a category of less-protected “unwanted, persistent and fear-producing speech” in which some showing of mens rea like recklessness might still be required). Whatever the First Amendment analysis, however, it should include attention to targets’, as well as defendants’, expressive interests.

Conclusion

Speakers who fear the prospect of the government’s punishment often express themselves less—or express themselves differently—than they would if they were not fearful. This, in turn, harms the speaker’s and the public’s First Amendment interests by stifling the delivery of opinions, facts, and ideas.

At the same time, targets fearful for their physical safety at the hands of a speaker often speak less, and speak differently, than they would if they were not fearful. And this, too, harms both the target’s and the public’s First Amendment interests.

Fear, and speech, are thus on both sides of threats cases and also many stalking cases. Courts’ doctrinal choices in threats and stalking cases sometimes chill speakers’ expression. And sometimes they instead permit the silencing of targets’ speech. A robust commitment to free speech, in my view, requires attention not only to the speech deterred by legal standards that are too quick to punish speakers but also to the speech silenced when the law fails adequately to protect the targets of threats and stalking from reasonable fear for their safety.

When courts ignore targets’ free speech interests to privilege defendants’ free speech interests, they pretend to make hard First Amendment problems easy. But principled problem-solving requires that we take care to recognize and explain what makes difficult problems difficult, as is the case here, where we must choose between speakers’ and targets’ important free speech interests.

Courts must, and do, make choices all the time when calibrating the categories of unprotected speech (for example, in true threats cases), and when otherwise applying First Amendment doctrine (for instance, in stalking cases that do not allege true threats). The Court’s choice in Counterman to privilege speakers’ free speech interests over targets’ was a choice—but that choice was neither inevitable nor necessarily speech-protective. When we illuminate, rather than obscure, the free speech injuries experienced by the targets of threats and stalking, we can identify doctrinal choices that attend to targets’ expressive interests as well as defendants’.

 

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1351

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*  University Distinguished Professor and Rothgerber Chair in Constitutional Law, University of Colorado School of Law. Thanks to RonNell Andersen Jones, Nelson Tebbe, Alan Chen, Danielle Keats Citron, Yasmin Dawood, Margot Kaminski, Christina Koningisor, Margaret Kwoka, Genevieve Lakier, Lyrissa Lidsky, Toni Massaro, Joe Michaels, Francesca Procaccini, Blake Reid, Scott Skinner-Thompson, Phil Weiser, and the participants at Yale Law School’s Free Expression Scholars Conference and the University of Southern California Gould School of Law’s symposium on “The First Amendment and Listener Interests” for their insightful comments and questions. Thanks, too, to Kenzie Larrenaga, Devin Schultze, Olivia Sharp, and Claire Power Tate for outstanding research assistance.

Remarks on Academic Freedom and Free Speech: Reflections on Blocher

Joseph Blocher’s article is a rich contribution to our thinking about campus speech.1Joseph Blocher, Listening on Campus: Academic Freedom and Its Audiences, 98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1161 (2025). It takes the academic endeavor seriously—both for its rights and for its responsibilities—while simultaneously warning of its fragility under the threat of strong free speech claims.

Professor Blocher struck a poignant note with his insight that the value of academic freedom needs defending. He reminds us that public trust in academic judgment is diminished or gone. That is a devastating observation because if campus speech problems are to be addressed responsibly, it is only academic judgment that will get us there. Without trust in it, solutions seem elusive.

But his article sounds the alarm, warning that efforts to address the complex conundrums posed by campus speech—if beholden to only the values of free speech and listener interests—can in fact strain, and even threaten, the independence that universities need to exist as centers of teaching and intellectual engagement. To shed light on this threat, we must frankly confront and seek to understand free speech and academic freedom as separate values, each playing an important role in sustaining a democratic polity—but in different ways.

There is little need to rehearse the familiar rationales for free speech, which assert its importance to the pursuit of truth through a competition often called the “marketplace of ideas”;2ed Lion Broad. Co. v. FCC, 395 U.S. 367, 390 (1969) (citing Abrams v. United States, 250 U.S. 616, 630 (1919) (Holmes, J., dissenting)). its value to democratic self-rule;3Alexander Meiklejohn, Free Speech and Its Relation to Self-Government 93–94 (1948). and its role in assuring individual fulfillment, a core aspect of human dignity.4Thomas I. Emerson, Toward a General Theory of the First Amendment, 72 Yale L.J. 877, 879–81 (1963). Academic freedom, on the other hand, has different derivations and different justifications, not nearly so familiar. Just as free speech theory in the public domain is anchored on a theory of the government, speech in the university setting—along with its companion, academic freedom—must emanate from a theory of the university.

The university as an institution is conducted for the common good—not for its own good, and not for the good of any individuals who are part of it. Thus, unlike many other institutions that serve the public in other ways, society has considered it appropriate—since the founding of our nation—for the public to establish and fund universities, with the first public university (University of North Carolina) established in 1789.5History of the University, U.N.C. Chapel Hill, https://www.unc.edu/about/history-and-traditions [https://perma.cc/PX7Y-EAQY].

Benjamin Franklin confirmed that “[a]lmost all Governments have . . . made it a principal Object of their Attention, to establish and endow with proper Revenues, such Seminaries of Learning, as might supply the succeeding Age with Men qualified to serve the Publick with Honour to themselves, and to their Country.”6Benjamin Franklin, Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth in Pensilvania 5 (Univ. of Pa. Press 1931) (1749), https://archives.upenn.edu/digitized-resources/docs-pubs/franklin-proposals [https://perma.cc/67DE-WU7Z]. In Franklin’s vision, the public invests in the university and gleans returns in the form of graduates: an educated citizenry that is an asset to the common good.

But the mere fact that universities have been established and endowed with proper revenues by the government, as an investment in the betterment of society, does not automatically render those institutions equivalent to the government itself. This distinction is critical because the theories underlying free speech do not necessarily support equating universities with governments. Universities, while part of the polity, are not coextensive with government. Franklin’s statement suggests that governments, when they support institutions of higher learning, necessarily endow those institutions with the means to achieve their mission—the means to achieve the common good that Franklin described.

In its famous 1915 Declaration of Principles on Academic Freedom and Academic Tenure—which has shaped discussion of universities for over a century—the American Association of University Professors identified a university’s purpose as threefold: “to promote inquiry and advance the sum of human knowledge”; “to provide general instruction to the students”; and “to develop experts for various branches of the public service.”7Am. Ass’n of Univ. Professors, Appendix I: 1915 Declaration of Principles on Academic Freedom and Academic Tenure 295 (1915), https://www.aaup.org/NR/rdonlyres/A6520A9D-0A9A-47B3-B550-C006B5B224E7/0/1915Declaration.pdf [https://perma.cc/G3Z8-HE8L]. Even today, most university websites identify their mission as involving the creation and advancement of knowledge.8See, e.g., Mission Statement, Princeton Univ., https://www.princeton.edu/meet-princeton/mission-statement [https://perma.cc/F47B-FHDV] (“advances learning through scholarship, research, and teaching”); Mission Statement, MIT, https://www.mit.edu/about/mission-statement [https://perma.cc/K8HZ-RWZV] (“generating, disseminating, and preserving knowledge”); Who We Are, Stan. Univ., https://www.stanford.edu/about [https://perma.cc/F3DF-DY3A] (“to create and share knowledge”). From that universal recognition of a core purpose comes a corresponding need: the government must promise not to interfere in academic judgment or undermine educational decisions, in exchange for the university’s contribution to the public good of education.9See Keyishian v. Bd. of Regents, 385 U.S. 589, 603–04 (1967). The institution itself is properly understood to be the holder of academic freedom, a “special concern of the First Amendment, which does not tolerate laws that cast a pall of orthodoxy over the classroom.”10Id. at 603. Academic freedom thus insulates the academy from government or politics for the betterment of the common good. As Justice Felix Frankfurter suggested in a famous concurring opinion, “ ‘the four essential freedoms’ of a university [are] to determine for itself on academic grounds who may teach, what may be taught, how it shall be taught, and who may be admitted to study.”11Sweezy v. New Hampshire, 354 U.S. 234, 263 (1957) (Frankfurter, J., concurring) (quoting Acad. Freedom Comms. of the Univ. of Cape Town & the Univ. of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, The Open Universities in South Africa and Academic Freedom 1957–74, at 10–12 (1974)).

But the goal of this Comment is to push harder on the question of what governments transmit to universities in addition to a degree of independence known as academic freedom. I would submit that there is no reason to assume that governments also pass along to universities the separate obligation to adhere to the free speech paradigm applicable to government itself and the public sphere in general. Indeed, there are very good reasons not to do so.

A key tenet of Blocher’s article is that free speech principles and academic freedom principles are not the same thing and can work in tension with one another. This clash, I submit, comes from a reflexive transplanting of doctrines designed to function in different settings. That is not to say free speech has no place in the academy. Rather, we should ask: where do free speech obligations come from with regard to a university?

The simple answer is that the Supreme Court has long held that the First Amendment’s protection of free speech applies fully to public universities.12Healy v. James, 408 U.S. 169, 180–81 (1972). But I believe that the Court made a category mistake in its holding, and so I would like to think further about what the right answer ought to be with regard to the question of free speech obligations for universities.

The better answer, in my view, is that universities do not take on the constitutional obligations of free speech that governments hold. But what about the importance of free speech for academic discourse? While a form of free inquiry and communication is essential to the academic enterprise, its success also depends on judgments about the truth of speech that are utterly inconsistent with the idea of unregulated speech in society at large. Robert Post, who has developed one of the most comprehensive accounts of academic freedom,13For representative works by Robert Post on academic freedom, see generally Robert C. Post, Democracy, Expertise, Academic Freedom: A First Amendment Jurisprudence for the Modern State (2012) [hereinafter Post, Democracy, Expertise, Academic Freedom]; Matthew W. Finkin & Robert C. Post, For the Common Good: Principles of American Academic Freedom (2009); Robert Post, The Structure of Academic Freedom, in Academic Freedom After September 11th 61 (Beshara Doumani ed., 2006); Robert Post, Debating Disciplinarity, 35 Critical Inquiry 749 (2009). offers a persuasive illustration: “Although the First Amendment would prohibit government from regulating the New York Times if the newspaper were inclined to editorialize that the moon is made of green cheese, no astronomy department could survive if it were prevented from denying tenure to a young scholar who was similarly convinced.”14Post, Democracy, Expertise, Academic Freedom, supra note 13, at 67.

My argument is that freedom of speech is best understood not as a free-standing obligation of universities as it is for governments; rather, free speech in the university setting is subsumed within academic freedom, properly understood. With this nesting of dominance, free speech and academic freedom can avoid the catastrophic collision course that Professor Blocher describes. Both free speech and academic freedom are separate but related means designed to further the noble purpose of the academy.

The University of Chicago’s Foundational Principles attest that a university has a “commitment to free, robust, and uninhibited debate and deliberation among all members of the University’s community.”15The Comm. on Free Expression, Univ. of Chi. Off. of the Provost, Report of the Committee on Freedom of Expression (2015), https://provost.uchicago.edu/sites/default/files/documents/reports/FOECommitteeReport.pdf [https://perma.cc/U4MD-FHUJ] [hereinafter Chicago Principles]. Many scholars agree that the central purpose of a university is, first and foremost, to facilitate disagreement across differences.16See Erwin Chemerinsky & Howard Gillman, Free Speech on Campus 51–52 (2018) (describing modern view of a university as a place in which “beliefs should be tested by free-thinking human beings . . . after engaging in debate and experimentation”); Prof. Geoffrey Stone Discusses Free Speech on Campus at the American Law Institute, Univ. of Chi. L. Sch., https://www.law.uchicago.edu/news/prof-geoffrey-stone-discusses-free-speech-campus-american-law-institute [https://perma.cc/6QPQ-3Z47] (fostering debate is an “essential part of the University’s educational mission”). These tropes are commonly taken as evidence that free speech is a critical value to universities. The words do suggest a free speech value, and certainly some universities and scholars have interpreted them that way—that universities are indistinguishable from public fora for speech.17See Chemerinsky & Gillman, supra note 16, at xx–xxi, 75–78 (arguing for a robust application of free speech principles to universities).

But the words are misleading. In my view, the commitment to debate and deliberation that Chicago rightly identifies as defining the educational mission of a university does not derive from the First Amendment at all. Indeed, I suggest that the free speech value is not a consequence of the First Amendment. Rather, it is a component part of the educational mission of colleges and universities.

Disagreement, engagement, communication—they are all forms of speech. However, that is not why they are central to academia; they are critical to universities because they are essential aspects of the learning process, and to the production and dissemination of knowledge, and thus fall under the rubric of the university’s commitment to academic freedom. It is wrong to assume that, because education requires speech, free speech holds an independent power within the university. That error influenced the Supreme Court, animates many of the critiques of universities, and has led to the problems that Professor Blocher identifies in his article. There should be only one overarching existential value guiding the university: the umbrella known as the pursuit of the educative mission and its guardian, academic freedom.

As Professor Blocher has so ably shown, free speech untethered from its relationship with academic freedom can become a threat to it. Thus, in the university setting, free speech should be considered subservient to academic freedom. To the extent that free speech values can validly claim a place in the university, they do so only to further the legitimate goals of education—goals that free speech supports rather than controls.

This is not the place to make a full-throated defense of the claim that the First Amendment should not apply to universities, public or private—but the concluding discussion will suggest a nod in that direction.

For one thing, the stakes are very different between speech regulation by a university and speech regulation by a government. When a university in some way restricts speech—whether it be a student’s placard in the quad or a white supremacist speaker’s rant at a campus rally—the regulation does not limit speech outside the university’s gates and thus causes significantly less potential speech harm than a government law that regulates speech in the world. The student is free to wave a placard out on the public sidewalk, and the speaker can conduct a rally at a public park.

Why would we assume that universities are public fora for speech? Listener interests, one might reply—people on campus need to be able to hear unfettered speech to achieve the knowledge and training that they seek. But I would respond that the university’s job is to consider the legitimate listener interests in the enterprise of academic engagement. Indeed, as Professor Blocher emphasizes, listener interests are really at the heart of the educational enterprise.

But the university owes no duty to listeners as such, separate from what contributes to the educational mission. If it does owe a duty to permit certain speakers, it is not because the speaker is entitled to speak to the students, or because the students are entitled to hear from every possible speaker. Rather, the duty is to support the acquisition of knowledge and to support speakers who contribute to that enterprise. This would leave out, for example, the people Professor Blocher calls “provocateurs who have no business speaking in an academic setting to begin with.”18Blocher, supra note 1, at 1162. The university simply is not the public square.

Additionally, of course, the final cause of government is very different from that of universities. The Constitution protects free speech to support self-government, informed democracy, and civic virtue. The university has

a different purpose, which is not always compatible with free speech for its own sake.

The protection of listeners is absolutely core to the academic mission of a university; knowledge cannot be attained, improved, or shared without the inculcation and practice of listening. Listening, critically evaluating what is heard, and engaging in meaningful dialogue are the processes by which learning occurs. Speech and listening are the lifeblood of the university, and they are a blood that nourishes its soul.

For example, if a university believes that hate speech is interfering with learning by causing conflict and insecurity among targeted students, it should have the power to limit expression to the degree necessary to prevent a genuine interference with learning, something that hampers the constructive debate and mutual respect that are essential to true academic engagement. This result is antithetical to the free-speech paradigm.19See Chemerinsky & Gillman, supra note 16, at 103 (claiming that hate speech regulation on campus both is and should be prohibited by the First Amendment).

Indeed, the Chicago Principles addressing campus speech explicitly reject any special accommodations to protect targets of hate speech, on the ground that unrestricted speech is the value to which they are committed. But I suggest that they should not be committed to that value if it conflicts with the academic mission. Universities have a core duty to manage speech to promote the advancement of knowledge, not sacrifice it in the name of unrestricted speech.

So, does this help at all with Professor Blocher’s powerful point about how the value of the academic enterprise, including its speech, is contested now and suffers low public regard? Perhaps in this very subtle way: Free speech is often touted as a right—as a sword, not a shield—and those inside and outside of academia are heard shouting, “I have the right to say it, so I am going to say it, and the university cannot keep me from saying it.”20See Defending Your Rights: Reforming College Policies, FIRE, https://www.thefire.org/defending-your-rights/reforming-college-policies [https://perma.cc/JU7U-8U7C] (working “to proactively and systematically challenge campus policies that violate college students’ and faculty members’ free speech rights”). With free speech in charge, there is less obligation to justify one’s claims. One can make any outrageous, false, offensive, and/or anti-intellectual statement, based solely on the right to speak. In such a scenario, the professional, empirical, or scientific basis for a claim is not offered—is not demanded—because, under the First Amendment, it is not required. But for the academic enterprise, justification is always required. Thus, when the free speech model overcomes the academic model, the terms of debate veer away from any foundation that might inspire trust. This can degrade the currency of academic judgment.

If we could move to a paradigm where universities were thought of more as enclaves governed by the ethos of academic integrity—where speech is justified and tested in dialectic, rather than as a contest of who can yell louder or be more provocative—perhaps there could be more of an emphasis on what Professor Blocher has persuasively defended as “justified true belief.”21See Joseph Blocher, Free Speech and Justified True Belief, 133 Harv. L. Rev. 439, 444 (2019) (setting forth a knowledge-based account of free speech). In the academic setting, the goal is not an unregulated marketplace of ideas but rather a shared quest for knowledge. This underscores the obligation of the academy to ensure dialectic and responsiveness—give and take—as much as protecting speakers as such.

In this world in which ideas are often communicated in the form of twenty-second TikTok videos, memes, and tweets, one thing that has suffered is reasoned argument—or even reasons, period. Conspiracy theories catch on precisely because they lack a foundation in justified true belief and fail to be subject to robust interrogation. This is the free-speech paradigm at work. But in the academic enclave, I wonder whether re-emphasizing academic freedom and de-emphasizing free speech might help restore to academic expertise the appearance of justification and, in turn, public value.

There are pragmatic objections to how such a regime would be implemented, and this brief Comment does not aim to resolve them. The aim was rather to plant the seed of a model of campus speech that nests free speech within an emboldened concept of academic freedom, making free speech the handmaiden of academic freedom, rather than its antagonist.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1379

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* The Rader Family Trustee Chair in Law, University of Southern California. This Comment was prepared for the SCLR Symposium 2024: The First Amendment and Listener Interests, November 8–9, 2024. I am grateful to Erin Miller and Bob Rasmussen for comments.