The Wild West: Application of the Second Amendment’s Individual Right to California Firearm Legislation – Note by Forrest Brown

Note | Constitutional Law
The Wild West: Application of the Second Amendment’s
Individual Right to California Firearm Legislation

by Forrest Brown*

From Vol. 92, No. 5 (July 2019)
92 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1203 (2019)

Keywords: Second Amendment

 

In its landmark District of Columbia v. Heller decision, the Supreme Court announced that the Second Amendment guarantees an individual right of the people to bear arms. Although Heller answered a long-standing question about the Second Amendment’s meaning, there remain issues to be settled. One of the most pressing—and the main topic of this Note—is the proper method of review and application of this individual right. Without guidance on these issues, several circuit courts have followed different approaches. Although opportunities to provide some clarity have come before the Supreme Court, so far, it has denied certiorari.

This Note will not opine on the merits of the individualist or collectivist approaches to the interpretation of the Second Amendment, as this question has been answered conclusively in Heller. Instead, this Note will provide a suggested framework for the application of this individual right to keep and bear arms, and will progress as follows. Part I will offer a contextual history of the Second Amendment. Part II will make the case for why clarity on this issue is so desperately needed and is punctuated by a discussion of the Second Circuit’s particularly troubling application of the right. Part III will offer a proposed framework that, if adopted by the Supreme Court, can resolve the questions posed in Part II. Part IV will apply the framework to California concealed carry regulations. Finally, Part V will apply the framework to a new California law that is likely to make its way to the Ninth Circuit soon, thus allowing the Supreme Court to clarify Second Amendment jurisprudence further.

*. Senior Submissions Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 92; J.D. 2019, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A., Economics & Accounting 2015, University of California, Santa Barbara. My deepest appreciation goes to Professor Rebecca Brown for her guidance, the editors of the Southern California Law Review for all of their hard work, and my family and friends for their continued support.

 

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California Constitutional Law: Direct Democracy – Article by David A. Carrillo, Stephen M. Duvernay, Benjamin Gevercer & Meghan Fenzel

 

From Volume 92, Number 3 (March 2019)
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California Constitutional Law: Direct Democracy

David A. Carrillo,[*] Stephen M. Duvernay,[†] Benjamin Gevercer[‡] & Meghan Fenzel[*][*]

The California electorate amended the state constitution in 1911 to reserve to itself the powers of initiative, referendum, and recall. Most research on direct democracy in California focuses on its political science effects. We consider the substantive constitutional issues the electorate’s powers create and present a defense of direct democracy as a net positive force in California government.

We review every California constitutional amendment to date, distinguishing between legislatively proposed amendments and initiative amendments. We solve the enduring mystery of how many times the California constitution has been amended. We prove that the initiative process does not have a disproportionate effect on the amendment rate of the California constitution, and that the state legislature (not the electorate) is responsible for the vast majority of California’s constitutional changes. We also debunk the myths that California’s is the longest constitution in the world and that the state uses the initiative more than any other.

Next, we discuss the substantive constitutional issues the electorate’s direct democracy powers can raise. Critics frequently blame the initiative for many of the state’s woes, but we argue that direct democracy in California is a net social good. We show that while direct democracy’s cumulative quantitative and individual qualitative effects are indeed significant, they are not so severe that structural change is warranted. We identify one flaw in the initiative process that merits a solution. Recognizing, however, that any change is an unlikely prospect, we argue that the existing checks on the electorate are capable. Because direct democracy’s harms are adequately mitigated, there is no urgent need for fundamental change.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

A. Overview

B. Direct Democracy’s Design Considerations

I. CALIFORNIA’S DIRECT DEMOCRACY PROVISIONS

A. 1849–1911: No Direct Democracy

B. 1911: Direct Democracy Is Added to the State
Constitution

C. California’s Direct Democracy Tools Described

D. Constitutional Amendments Before 1912

E. Less Initiative Activity 1912–1959, More Initiative
Activity 1960–2017

F. Initiative Activity Quantitative Analysis

II. DIRECT DEMOCRACY’S EFFECTS ANALYZED

A. Complaints About Direct Democracy

B. Population Size

C. Money’s Impact

D. Effect on Turnout

E. California’s Lack of a True Majority Requirement
Harms Legitimacy

F. A Proposed Solution: The Dual Approval Quorum

III. THE EXISTING CHECKS ON THE ELECTORATE ARE SUFFICIENT

A. Single-Subject Rule

B. Revision and Amendment

C. Separation of Powers

D. Individual Rights

CONCLUSION

APPENDIX

 

INTRODUCTION

A.  Overview

This Article addresses an oft-debated question in California—just how problematic is direct democracy?—by challenging the premise. We quantitatively analyze how the electorate acts in California’s hybrid republic and show how that system prevents the electorate from unbalancing it. We reviewed all California constitutional amendments, parsing them between legislative and initiative. Our data show that the legislature is primarily responsible for constitutional change in California, not the electorate. We analyzed the initiative’s effects on the amendment rate, turnout, and other practical effects, and our results contradict the conventional wisdom that the initiative has disproportionate effects. Our substantive analysis similarly concludes that despite some notable outliers and one fixable problem, overall the existing checks on direct democracy are suited to the task. As a result, this Article stands apart from most scholarly work on California’s direct democracy tools: this is a defense of California’s hybrid republic.[1]

First, some conceptual definitions. Popular sovereignty and direct democracy are related but not synonymous terms; so too are “people” and “electorate” related but distinct. The people is the collective body of persons who constitute the state. The electorate is the subset of the people who can vote. We use popular sovereignty to describe the idea that in California, the people hold ultimate political power and delegate it to a government that persists only with their consent.[2] Direct democracy is any mechanism for an electorate to exercise political power without an intervening representative.[3]

California’s constitution has four direct democracy tools: initiative statute, initiative constitutional amendment, recall, and referendum. We focus on the initiative power to amend the state constitution. We divide California’s experience with popular constitutional change into three distinct periods. From the state’s creation in 1849 until 1911, the state constitution had no provision for any popular legislating. From 1911 (when the state’s direct democracy tools were instituted) to 1959, there was some direct constitutional change, but less compared with the period from 1960 to the present.

The other states vary widely in their constitutional change mechanisms.[4] As Appendix Table 1 (initiative states) illustrates, California is one of 24 states with the initiative (18 of which permit initiative constitutional amendments); every state has a legislative process for the government to place issues on the ballot; and every state except Delaware requires a popular vote to approve constitutional amendments.[5] This means that today most Americans live in the kind of hybrid republic that exists in California, where the state government includes both representative and direct democracy.[6]

B.  Direct Democracy’s Design Considerations

Direct democracy presents value-set tradeoffs between more public participation in lawmaking (which effectuates majority preferences but can be inefficient) and more government control (which may be more efficient but could compromise individual liberty). Overvaluing either principle (participation or efficiency) encourages extreme forms of government: mob rule or dictatorship. Avoiding either extreme requires adjusting the value set to achieve whatever the society finds is the most workable balance between direct popular participation and representative republicanism. Finding that balance is a process rather than a one-time event, and because the balance may change as a society evolves, the system needs a change mechanism to adjust as necessary.

Perspectives on how much direct popular control is best vary by time and location. For example, early American political thinking held that a political system’s successful functioning depended on striking and maintaining a proper balance between the government’s power and the people’s liberty.[7] This view divides the people and their government into two distinct groups with opposing interests that must be balanced to prevent either anarchy or tyranny.[8] The designers of the federal government intentionally eliminated direct popular participation almost entirely.[9] The representative republic designed by the 1787 convention excluded any direct popular involvement in lawmaking other than electing representatives, and the checks and balances in the divided-powers structure of that government were primarily aimed at controlling the government’s power, not permitting public participation.[10] In contrast, the early states experimented with incorporating direct popular lawmaking in their state constitutions.[11] California itself is a miniature example of this variation: its original 1849 constitution had no direct democracy features, and the state rebalanced its value-set choices in 1911, when it incorporated direct democracy tools into its current state constitution. These differences between the federal and state governments, and between early and current versions, do not necessarily indicate progressive thinking or show that one variant is superior; they are different charters for different purposes.

Direct democracy is not an inherent good and adding it to a government requires proper integration. Like any other power in a government, it may evolve beyond its limits and come to dominate the others.[12] Indeed, any divided-government system suffers from an inherent design problem: it is necessary to balance the risk that government gains too much power against the risk that containing its power prevents government from functioning at all. Direct democracy is no different from any other government design feature—for direct democracy in California to work well, it must function as a part of the state government, not as an outside actor. It must be included in the checks and balances to maintain both the optimal balance of internally separated powers and the external balance between the government and the governed.[13]

This is because the electorate is no less given to abusing its power than any other political actor.[14] Changing a government’s design to include a new legislative actor, as California did, requires either applying existing means of evaluating power disputes, or creating new methods specifically for the new actor.[15] And if governance is a social contract where the people cede their sovereignty to representatives so long as the government promotes the public interest, the contract still requires a self-regulatory feature when the people are their own representatives.[16] Though they ultimately are sovereign when acting as the people, when exercising legislative power (as California’s electorate does) the voters are a legislative branch of government that must be restrained to prevent the voters from oppressing themselves.[17]

These design concerns inform the questions we consider here: how the electorate acts in California’s hybrid republic, and how well that system prevents the electorate from unbalancing it. Our analysis does not support the common themes that California uses the initiative more than any other state, or that the state’s electorate amends the state constitution excessively.[18] We find instead that, rather than acting as an outside disruptor, the electorate is adequately incorporated into the California system and that there are functional checks on the electorate. This rebuts the charges that the initiative needs structural reform or that the electorate needs additional checks. The electorate is not the great disruptor of California government—on the contrary, it generally functions well as part of a balanced system. Most importantly, the initiative has served its intended purpose: overcoming legislative inaction to solve several major public policy problems.[19] Its negative effect on the California constitution is often overstated, and the existing checks on the electorate are suited to the task.

I.  CALIFORNIA’S DIRECT DEMOCRACY PROVISIONS

A.  1849–1911: No Direct Democracy

Direct democracy was not included in the federal constitutional design. In revolutionary America, popular sovereignty was a core concept: the idea that ultimate power rested with the people themselves collectively.[20] But the federal framers considered and rejected direct democracy as the model for the federal government.[21] Consequently, there are no direct democracy tools in the federal constitution.[22] And although direct democracy was a significant factor in the colonial, Confederation, and early federal periods, the initiative was largely absent nationwide during the 1800s until the Populist and Progressive movements revived it around 1900 as a political reform measure to limit special interest influence on government.[23]

Similarly, direct democracy was not part of California’s original constitutional design. Delegates discussed the general concept of popular sovereignty in the first week of California’s 1848 constitutional convention: “The declaration of the sovereignty of the people, emanates from the foundation of our Republic. It has been adhered to ever since, and . . . would be adhered to in all time to come.”[24] Article 2, section 1 of the state constitution incorporates that principle: “All political power is inherent in the people. Government is instituted for their protection, security, and benefit, and they have the right to alter or reform it when the public good may require.”[25] Yet that sentiment remained conceptual until the Progressive reforms in 1911.

B.  1911: Direct Democracy Is Added to the State Constitution

California’s direct democracy mechanisms were created during the Progressive era as a comprehensive package of voter reforms that resulted from popular dissatisfaction with corruption and influence in the state legislature.[26] The Progressives argued that the cure for the ills of democracy was more democracy.[27] During that period, South Dakota was the first state to adopt the initiative and referendum in 1898, and between 1898 and 1918, twenty-two states adopted direct democracy constitutional provisions.[28]

Hiram Johnson was elected California’s governor in 1910 on a reform campaign platform aimed at influential special interests, particularly the Southern Pacific Railroad.[29] In his inaugural address, Johnson declared his intent to add direct democracy tools to the state constitution.[30] At the time, Article XVIII, section 1 provided that amendments could only be proposed by the legislature with popular ratification.[31] In 1911, the legislature proposed amending the state constitution to add four new electorate powers: initiative statute, initiative amendment, referendum, and recall.[32] The voters approved those reforms in a special election on October 10, 1911.[33] Given its substantial powers, some observers call the electorate the state’s “fourth branch” of government.[34] But as the ranking in Table 1 shows, California voters do not use the initiative the most: the state ranks second in total initiative use, behind market leader Oregon.[35]

California is one of 18 states that permit citizen-initiated amendments, and one of 16 states where those amendments go directly on the ballot.[36]

C.  California’s Direct Democracy Tools Described

California has specific terms for each power the state electorate can exercise on its own: recall, referendum, and initiative.[37]

Recall is the electorate’s power to remove an elected official in a special election before the official’s regular term expires: “Recall is the power of the electors to remove an elective officer.”[38] The California electorate has only once used its recall power against a high state officer: the voters recalled Governor Gray Davis in 2003.[39] That was the first (and so far only) successful gubernatorial recall in California; at the time it was only the second in U.S. history (North Dakota’s governor was recalled in 1921), and the third (unsuccessful) attempt occurred in 2012 in Wisconsin. Nineteen states and the District of Columbia permit recalls.[40]

Outside the United States, the general term “referendum” is commonly used to describe any non-candidate election matter the electorate votes on.[41] Not so in California. The referendum is the electorate’s power to veto statutes passed by the legislature: “The referendum is the power of the electors to approve or reject statutes or parts of statutes except urgency statutes, statutes calling elections, and statutes providing for tax levies or appropriations for usual current expenses of the State.”[42] The referendum is not much used.[43] Between 1912 and 2016, a total of 89 referenda were titled and summarized for circulation. Of those, 39 (43.82%) failed to qualify for the ballot, and 50 (56.18%) qualified for the ballot. Of the 50 that qualified, voters approved the law in 21 instances (42%) and rejected the law in the remaining 29 referenda (58%).[44]

The initiative is a means for the electorate to place a legislative act (a statute or a constitutional amendment) on the ballot by signature petition and to enact such proposals by majority vote: “The initiative is the power of the electors to propose statutes and amendments to the Constitution and to adopt or reject them.”[45] Only the statewide electorate holds this power; a local community, for example, cannot use the initiative to enact statewide legislation.[46] Only the electorate can amend the California constitution.[47] California constitution article XVIII provides two amendment procedures: The legislature may propose amendments for voter approval, or the electorate may amend the state constitution through the initiative process. Revisions may be made only by convening a constitutional convention or by legislative referral to the electorate.[48] (We parse the distinctions between an amendment and a revision in Section III.B.) Once passed, the legislature cannot alter initiative measures without the electorate’s consent, and there is no executive veto.[49]

D.  Constitutional Amendments Before 1912

Before 1912, the state constitution was amended 85 times total: the 1849 constitution was amended just three times, and the 1879 constitution was amended 82 times.[50] The sole amendment procedure during this period (under both constitutions) required the legislature to propose each amendment for voter approval. Comparing the pre-1912 amendment numbers for the 1849 and 1879 constitutions shows that between these roughly similar thirty-year periods (18491878 and 18791912) the amendment ratio is 1:27.3. We suspect that the disparity stems from the fact that the 1849 constitution was shorter and simpler; as discussed below, some research shows that a long constitution invites more frequent amendment. Environmental factors such as California’s smaller population, simpler economy, and overall lower government activity before 1878 may also contribute to the disparity.

E.  Less Initiative Activity 1912–1959, More Initiative Activity 1960–2017

The pre- and post-1960 periods have distinct levels of initiative activity: less activity before 1960 and more after. (We define “activity” here as the number of initiative amendments approved by the voters in a given period.) As the data in Table 2 (initiative amendments by period) show, although initiative activity increased after 1960, the number of legislative amendments and the total number of amendments decreased during that period. This is particularly interesting given that the later period is ten years longer than the earlier period.

The total number of amendments made in these time periods is similar: 225 amendments from 1912 to 1959 (47 years), and 208 amendments from 1960 to 2017 (57 years). That is only a 7.85% difference, or a 7.56% decrease for all amendments. And the total amendments averages-per-year are not grossly divergent: 4.79 before 1960 compared with 3.65 after 1960 (a 27% difference, or a 23.8% decrease). But from 1912 to 1959, just 17 amendments were initiatives—the remaining 208 were legislatively referred.[51] That ratio is 1:12.2. Note that the tally in each period is affected by the fact that before the 1960s, bond measures were constitutional amendments—19 of the amendments during this period were bond issuances. In 1962 the electorate adopted Proposition 6, amending the constitution to permit bond measures to go on the ballot as statutes instead of constitutional amendments. Because of this change any bond measures after 1962 drop out of the amendment tally. This added to the obvious contemporaneous rate change (see supra Figure 1) justifies the pre-and-post-1960 division. It also affects the initiative to legislative amendment ratio: removing the 19 bond amendments changes the ratio slightly to 1:11.1, which does not significantly alter the comparison between the two periods.

From 1960 to 2017, California voters approved 208 constitutional amendments: 36 initiative constitutional amendments and 172 legislative constitutional amendments in this 57-year period (0.63 per year), which is twice as many initiative amendments (36 versus 17); the average-yearly-adoption-rate doubled (0.63 per year versus 0.36 per year); and the initiative-to-legislative amendment ratio (1:4.8) is approximately twice the pre-1960 ratio (1:12.2 with bond amendments and 1:11.1 without them). Together, the change in averages and ratios indicates relatively greater initiative amendment activity after 1960. The electorate also enacted 15 constitutional revisions during the second period; given the distinction between amendments and revisions (discussed in section III.B), we do not include these in the amendments tally.[52] But the main conclusionthat the legislature is the primary constitutional change initiatorremains unchanged: in this period the legislature initiated approximately five times as many constitutional amendments as the electorate did.

It is difficult to determine what sparked the increase in initiative constitutional amendments since 1960. Several constitutional changes could be contributing factors. The 15 constitutional revisions between 1962 and 1974 made significant changes and deletions. Like most observers, we note that the adoption of Proposition 13 in 1978 (a change in the state’s residential real property taxation) caused a wave of similar tax reform nationwide,[53] which occurred during this period of higher initiative amendment activity. We note that the electorate enacted 19 initiative constitutional amendments before Proposition 13, and 33 since. And during this period, Proposition 1A in 1966 created a full-time legislature; that measure is credited with professionalizing the legislature and providing it significantly more authority and resources.[54] It is possible that a full-time legislature is more active than a part-time legislature and that greater legislative activity prompts more initiative use to check the legislature. Finally, Figure 7 shows that over time legislative and initiative constitutional amendments have converged. There is no doubt that California saw more initiative activity in the period following 1960 relative to the preceding period, but we decline to speculate about what combination of social, political, and economic factors caused the increase.

F.  Initiative Activity Quantitative Analysis

Our research shows that from 1849 to 2017, the California constitution was amended 518 times.[55] Since the initiative became available in 1912, the state constitution was amended 433 times total: Of those 53 were voter initiatives (12% of all amendments since 1912) and the remaining 380 (88%) were legislative proposals. And including constitutional revisions, the California constitution was changed 539 times.

California ranks second in its overall use of the initiative, and while the California constitution has been amended more than most other states, it is not the most-amended state constitution (Alabama’s is).[56] Part of the reason California’s constitution has a higher number of initiative amendments than some other states is the fact that compared to them, California has the least onerous procedural requirements for the electorate to enact constitutional amendments.[57] The usual conclusion is that the initiative process has a substantial effect on the rate of constitutional amendment in the state.[58]

Our data show that the opposite is true: the initiative process does not have a disproportionate effect on the amendment rate of the California constitution.[59] Initiative amendments (53) make up just 12% of the total ballot measures (433) amending the constitution from 1912 to 2017.[60] Nor is it surprising that California’s constitution is longer or has more amendments than the federal charter. State constitutions tend to be longer than the federal government’s because they design different political systems: the state is a general government, while the federal government has limited powers. And state constitutions (including California’s) generally have more accessible amendment procedures than the onerous process provided in the federal constitution; as a result, “every state constitution is amended more frequently than the U.S. Constitution.”[61] As of 2017, the aggregate state constitutional amendments number 7,586—over 150 amendments per state on average, which is over ten times the federal amendment rate.[62] These differences in kind, not degree, mean that the state and federal amendment rates are not comparable.

California’s constitution does have a relatively high number of amendments compared with other states.[63] Some scholars explain this with practical features: its age, length, and complexity.[64] Our analysis does not support that theory, but neither do we think the initiative is to blame.[65] California’s 1879 constitution is the twentieth oldest state constitution overall.[66] Of the 16 states with initiative amendments that go directly on the ballot, California has the seventholdest constitution, the highest number of amendments, and the highest amendment rate.[67] California’s constitution is the seventh longest U.S. state constitution.[68] But comparing California to other similar states shows at most weak evidence that the initiative is responsible for California’s relatively high amendment number.

As Table 3 (all states ranked) shows, the 20 oldest constitutions divide evenly by length, with ten in the top 50% and ten in the bottom 50%. The 20 most-amended constitutions also do not show a strong length correlation: of the 20 most amended constitutions 13 are in the top 50% and 7 are in the bottom 50%.[69] And most telling: only 9 of the 20 most-amended constitutions are initiative amendment states. California is the only one of the topfive mostamended states with initiative amendments, and neither of the two closest statesSouth Carolina (500 amendments) and Texas (491 amendments)has initiative amendments. This shows that availability of citizen initiative amendments is at most a contributing factor to a relatively high amendment number.[70] And it counters the oft-made claim that California is at the “radical end” of the direct democracy spectrum.[71]

 We compiled data on initiative measures generally and initiative constitutional amendments specifically from 1912 (the firstyear initiatives appeared on the ballot) to 2017, as follows.[72]

 These data permit several plausible conclusions. Most importantly, initiative amendments have nearly the same success rate as initiatives generally, which shows that an electorate attempt to amend the state constitution is about as likely to pass or fail as any other initiative measure.

From 1912 to 2017:

  • 19% of all titled initiatives qualified for the ballot (376/1952).
  • 6.8% of all titled initiatives passed (132/1952).
  • 35% of all qualified initiatives passed (132/376).
  • 34% of all qualified initiative amendments passed (53/154).

These results also show that as more initiatives are proposed, there is no corresponding increase of the rate of qualifying. Figure 1 shows that while the number of initiatives being titled as ballot measures increased significantly over time, there is at most a modest increase in the number of initiatives qualifying for the ballot. Nor do they rise and fall in tandem over time. Figure 2 shows that while the number of qualifying and approved initiatives did increase, neither did so to the same degree as the number of titled measures. Interestingly, Figure 3 shows that the change rates for qualified and approved initiatives correspond; the fact that they rise and fall roughly in tandem may indicate that there is a maximum possible success rate for initiatives on any given ballot, regardless how many initiatives are qualified.

This potential “change tolerance” figure contradicts the down-ballot falloff and voter fatigue arguments that are commonly leveled against the initiative. Instead, our data show that no matter how many proposals are circulated, only a consistently low number of them will qualify, and of those qualified only a consistently low percentage will pass.[73] Whether comparing titled to qualified measures (Figure 1), or qualified to approved (Figure 2), the takeaway is the same: most proposals fail, either at the qualification or the approval stage. The most dramatic discrepancy is between titled and approved measures (Figure 3), which shows an overall titled-to-approved ratio of 14:1—just a 7% chance of any given measure succeeding.

Increasing the number of initiatives and amendments on the ballot does not produce a concurrent increase in the success rate of those proposals. More proposals mean more will pass, but the likelihood of success remains low. While the total number of qualified initiatives and amendments has increased since 1960, the qualifying and approval rates have remained consistently low.[74] As Figure 5 shows, the disparity between initiatives qualified and amendments qualified remains fairly consistent over time, and a significant rise in the number of qualified initiatives corresponds with only a modest increase in qualified amendments.[75]

Initiative amendments occur less frequently than statutory measures. The simplest explanation is that, as Tables 4 and 5 show, fewer initiative amendments qualify for the ballot. Since 1912, of the 376 initiatives qualified, fewer than half (154) were amendments; and of the 132 initiatives approved fewer than half (53) were amendments. Comparing Figure 4 (initiative amendments approved) and Figure 8 (all initiatives approved) shows that the respective approval rates for all initiatives and initiative amendments are similarly variable and generally under a 50% passage rate; this is consistent with the overall passage average of around 35% for each. Figure 6 shows that amendments are qualified and approved in lower proportions than initiative measures generally, and while the quantity of initiative and amendment approvals are both increasing over time, the number of approved amendments per decade has remained in the single digits until this decade, while the total number of approved initiatives has increased significantly.

The electorate has been far less impactful with its constitutional change power than the legislature, which contradicts the conventional wisdom that California’s electorate overuses its amendment power.[76] As Table 6 shows, from 1912 to 2017, the electorate approved 433 amendments, but the overwhelming majority (380, or 87.8%) were legislatively proposed; only 53 amendments (12.2% of all amendments since 1912) have been initiative measures. This shows that the effect of initiative constitutional amendments is not as dramatic as the conventional wisdom holds. Instead, the state legislature has initiated the clear majority of constitutional change in California, even after 1912.[77] While overall initiative process use is rising, the increase is slow, and its impact on the constitution remains at a consistently low level.[78] And because court challenges to approved initiatives are common, some are partly invalidated or never take effect at all.[79]

But this may be changing: as Figure 7 shows, the trend lines for legislative and initiative constitutional amendments recently converged, as over the past forty years legislative action declined sharply and electorate action increased slightly.[80] And Figures 4 and 6 may indicate a possible recent upward trend in initiative amendment approval rates. Because we do not have complete data for this decade these possible indications should be viewed with caution.

 

II.  DIRECT DEMOCRACY’S EFFECTS ANALYZED

A.  Complaints About Direct Democracy

With its hybrid government, California could benefit from the best aspects of both representative government and direct democracy or be paralyzed by the worst features of each. In the first scenario, the state can moderate direct democracy’s negative effects with its representative institutions, while its direct democracy institutions can mitigate a republic’s undesirable tendencies. Or California’s system may permit a small and unrepresentative segment of the electorate to make binding policy decisions for the state, reducing elected representative efficiency and devaluing minority interests.[81] We considered which scenario best describes the state and how successful the state is at balancing these competing dynamics. We conclude that California’s direct democracy tools are a net positive. California now has 105 years of experience with popular constitutional change. Its experience shows that direct democracy institutions can be as effective as traditional governmental institutions, particularly when direct democracy is combined with designed structural checks. For this state, the wisdom of crowds is real, albeit imperfect.[82]

Having direct democracy in a state constitution can be a net good, in theory, for several reasons: it is a check on the institutional branches of government; it encourages citizen participation in policy debates and governance; and it permits the governmentgoverned relationship to adapt to changed circumstances. All that assumes adequate institutional checks on the electorate’s power. In practice, California proves the theory: after a century of initiatives, California thrives.[83] The initiative does not supplant representative government, it supplements it.[84] Judicial review and the future electorate’s power to reverse past acts provide adequate safeguards.[85] And while the electorate sometimes creates problems for itself, the electorate more commonly uses the initiative to solve major institutional problems.

For example, in 1990, Proposition 140 imposed legislative terms limits, ending an era of lifetime legislative service.[86] In 2010, Proposition 20 created the California Citizens Redistricting Commission to stop partisan fights over drawing electoral districts, and Proposition 25 ended the required two-thirds majority budget vote requirement that caused chronically late budgets.[87] All were initiative amendments that tackled problems the legislature was unable or unwilling to address—exactly the initiative’s intended use. And as our quantitative analysis shows, the initiative is more commonly deployed cooperatively, with the legislature and the electorate working together to solve policy problems.[88] When it does act alone, the electorate is fairly conservative: the average success rate is under 40% for all metrics we evaluated, and the approval rate remains fairly constant almost independent of how many measures are proposed. That data and history do not support the conclusion that California’s electorate is a destructive political actor. But there are counterarguments, which we now consider.

Researchers have shown that direct democracy as a government institution can have both intended and unintended effects. Counterintuitively, the intended effects can be negatives, while the unintended effects can be positives.

The intended effects have negative consequences. Direct democracy was intended to (and does) increase participation and make government more responsive to electorate views on some issues, but it also makes government less efficient and less effective.[89] Unsurprisingly, the legislature suffers from the same inefficiency, which is a known and intended consequence of representative government.[90] A presently good solution for the proponent interest group may prove unworkable when applied to the population at large going forward.[91] Direct democracy has similar process inefficiencies to legislative action (enacting laws is costly), and it cannot adjust a proposal either before or after enactment without repeating the entire initiative process (again, costly).

Direct democracy’s indirect effects can be net positives. The single-subject nature of initiatives necessarily concentrates voter power on an individual issue, as with a single exercise against one representative in a recall.[92] Yet having the initiative available can improve elected official performance on issues that are not the subject of initiative action, because the electorate “saves” its limited resources for votes on the highest-interest issues, which in turn improves outcomes by focusing representative attention on those issues while also allowing them to devote more resources to other issues.[93]

The charge that initiative states are more poorly governed than non-initiative states[94] is a chicken-and-egg argument: do the legislature’s shortcomings encourage initiative use, or does using the initiative prevent the legislature from being effective?[95] And the answer depends on how one defines “effectiveness.” Direct democracy improves achievement of electorate preferences, and government responsiveness to voter preferences is itself a performance index. In other words, voters are more likely to get what they want, and the government they deserve, which may imply a difference between what scholars think is a measure of effective government and what that concept means to the electorate.[96] Viewing direct democracy from an economic perspective provides the same result: democracy is competitive government, and the alternative is monopoly government. From that perspective, electoral competition is the best guarantee that government will provide the voters with their preferred results, so democracy is the best method of satisfying voter preferences.[97]

Some scholars argue that the initiative’s potential negative effects outweigh its potential positives.[98] The initiative has been criticized for its disorganizing and bloating effects on the state constitution since the Progressive reforms were enacted in 1911.[99] Citizens may be too uninformed to make good decisions on public policy issues.[100] Initiatives force voters into a binary choice on an issue, and so fail to encourage debate and consensus.[101] Initiatives cannot weigh the intensity of interest group views. Initiatives forgo the legislative process of translating community preferences into policy through deliberation.[102] A legislature has lower transaction costs than the initiative process, and by reducing the transaction costs of bargaining, the legislative process increases the probability that political factions will cooperate and reach consensus.[103]

Even with democracy it is possible to have too much of a good thing.[104] Direct democracy was originally conceived as a necessary brake on the influence of wealthy corporate interests, but it is now criticized as having outgrown its initial purpose and as a vehicle for an excess of democracy.[105] It is further criticized as creating conflicting policy mandates that cripple the state government, ultimately encouraging more initiative activity to address government dysfunction in a process of diminishing returns.[106] California voters complain about the sheer number of ballot propositions and their confusing wording,[107] which can hinder educated consideration of ballot measures.[108] Voters favor improvements to the initiative process that increase opportunities for informed deliberation.[109] One scholar argues that the initiative:

  • Creates worse outcomes and weakens the democratic process,
  • Makes suboptimal outcomes more likely because the issues are too complex for the electors to understand, and
  • Prevents debate because issues are presented in final form or at most as competing alternatives.[110]

Yet these arguments against direct democracy institutions are equally valid against representative systems.[111] An argument against direct democracy is one against having any democracy at all.[112] Initiative measures are not limited to presenting a single set of alternatives; nothing prevents competing solutions or paired initiative measures from appearing on the same ballot.[113] The legislative filtering effect has a direct democracy equivalent: the large gap between titled, qualified, and approved measures shows that the electorate engages in a similar filtering process in that not all ideas make it to the ballot and not all are approved. While voters are more likely to feel somewhat ambivalent about the initiative process in general (consistent with voter dissatisfaction with government overall), voters are comfortable with their ability to properly evaluate individual ballot propositions.[114] And the ignorant-electorate hypothesis proves too much: an electorate unable to make good decisions on initiative measures is equally incapable of choosing good representatives—a hypothesis that undermines the very foundation of a representative republic.[115] California’s experience shows that voters are capable of understanding electoral issues and becoming sufficiently informed to make decisions.[116]

The practical reality of California’s direct democracy institutions is they are neither as bad as their critics believe nor as good as their supporters believe. The presence of initiatives on a ballot has only a small turnout-increasing effect in presidential elections; the same is true when initiatives are present on midterm ballots.[117] But in general, initiative propositions do increase voter turnout, which translates to a more informed and involved electorate.[118] With some variation, the available statistical evidence shows that the part of the electorate that actually votes on initiative ballot propositions is relatively wellinformed, conscientious, and cautious.[119] And there is evidence that, rather than discouraging participation in representative government, or causing interest groups to substitute action in one arena for another, the initiative increases opportunities for political involvement and action overall.[120] Overall, in direct democracy systems there is little to show that initiative outcomes are inferior to legislative outcomes.[121]

With that overview, we now consider several related direct democracy effects: population size, money, turnout, and majority approval. Of those, we conclude that the one problem that calls for a solution is majority approval.

B.  Population Size

In theory, direct democracy’s effectiveness is inversely related to the community’s size: the smaller the community, the more effective direct democracy is at achieving the goals of government.[122] Direct democracy, in its earliest conception, could only operate in small communities—a larger community where the people could not conveniently meet to personally discuss public matters required another system.[123] Representative government is the usual solution to the more complex needs of a larger community.[124] Indeed, the experience of the ancient Greeks suggests that the maximum population for a successful direct democracy is 5,000 to 10,000 citizens.[125] In the American revolutionary period there was significant experimentation with direct democracy, both before and after the 1789 constitution.[126] The founding generation’s experience resulted in a profound suspicion of undiluted direct democracy.[127] This may explain the fact that modern pure direct democracy primarily exists only in town-size communities with populations comparable to the ancient Greek city-states.[128] This evidence, historical and modern, of experiments with direct democracy suggests that significant use of direct democracy is effective only in small communities and for limited issues.[129]

California currently has a population of 39.5 million, including 24.8 million eligible voters, 19.4 million registered voters, and 14.6 million who voted in the 2016 presidential election.[130] So California should be too large to benefit from direct democracy. It should be both impractical and undesirable to use direct democracy in a community California’s size. Impractical, because even with modern electronic communication means it is impossible to fully engage such a large electorate. Undesirable, because the relatively low percentage of voters needed to qualify and pass measures risks majority tyranny.[131] The chronically low voter turnout and cost of initiatives could be symptoms of the over-large population using direct democracy in California. But as we discuss in Section III.D, voter turnout is low and declining nationwide, regardless of state size or initiative availability.[132] The evidence we review there does not show a correlation between low turnout and the initiative. And as we discussed in Section III.A, the evidence for the initiative compelling suboptimal governing outcomes is weak. Rather than indicating a basic incompatibility between direct democracy and larger populations, the core turnout issue is the “slim majority” problem we discuss in Section III.E.

C.  Money’s Impact

Currently, an initiative statute requires 365,880 signatures, and a constitutional amendment requires 585,407;[133] at a rate of two to three dollars (or more) per signature, any interest group lacking funds in the million-dollar range will be excluded from the process.[134] And the cost of qualifying an initiative measure for the ballot has increased dramatically over time, from a median of approximately $45,000 in 1976 to nearly $3 million by 2006.[135] Consequently, the very issues that are up for debate during any given election are largely dependent on choices made by interest groups with sufficient funds to qualify initiative measures for the ballot.[136] We think the explanation here is correlation, not causation. Money’s effect on campaigns has proved to be less than suspected: well-funded corporate interest campaigns succeed at a lower rate than initiatives generally, and the best success rate of particularly well-funded campaigns is in securing a “no” vote, which is also the most common voter reaction to initiative measures.[137]

D.  Effect on Turnout

In theory, direct democracy should foster voter engagement. According to the Condorcet Jury Theorem, where right answers exist and the voting group has average competence, the majority will arrive at the right answer as the size of the voting population increases.[138] In practice, this means majority voting rules work best when there is high turnout. But voting nationwide has been declining for decades, across all ballots.[139] So does direct democracy increase turnout in practice? As with the other empirical studies we reviewed, the results on this point are mixed, with a small net positive effect: ballot initiatives are more likely than not to increase voter turnout. Ballot propositions do not increase turnout in presidential election years, when voters are most engaged with the presidential campaign, but they do increase turnout during midterm elections.[140] And initiatives increase turnout in off-year elections.[141] Citizen-initiative races attract the most attention and have the greatest effect on turnout, while uncompetitive legislative initiatives and referenda have little effect.[142]

Turnout effects can be self-sustaining: because they are known effects, proponents may factor them into their timing strategy to best target their voters, and so compound the initiative’s turnout effects. For ballot measure proponents who seek to appeal to an intense minority of voters, waiting for a low turnout gubernatorial election may be the best path to approval. Because ballot measures pass with a simple majority of votes cast on that measure, propositions become law in California regardless of turnout levels.[143] Low turnout reduces the signature requirements to qualify for the ballot. Qualifying with a lower threshold, the proponents could then target a low-interest election.[144]

To curb this practice and its effects, the California legislature took action in 2011 with Senate Bill 202 (“S.B. 202”), requiring any measure approved after July 1, 2011 to go on general election ballots only.[145] The bill’s sponsors were concerned that “special interests” would “game the system” in low turnout elections, justifying the move to consolidate to general elections.[146] While S.B. 202 largely solved the turnout problem, it created another: by consolidating ballot measures to general elections only, general election voters are now overwhelmed with lengthy ballots.[147] Voters faced with a long ballot tend to opt out of educating themselves on all the issues, harming both participation and deliberation levels, and benefiting the status quo by making abstentions and “no” votes more likely.[148]

Overall, there is no reason to believe that California’s low voter turnout is an adaptation to the higher process burden of achieving consensus in a larger polity. If that were true, the 24 states with initiative powers would have correspondingly lower voter turnout rates than the other 26 states. Instead, as Table 7 (turnout) shows, voter turnout rates are consistently low nationwide.[149] And there is a positive correlation between turnout and citizen initiatives during non-presidential election years. We conclude that California’s low voter turnout reflects broader turnout trends and is not a reaction to direct democracy. Direct democracy does not deter turnout, but lengthy ballots do result in greater voter abstention on down-ballot propositions and races.

E.  California’s Lack of a True Majority Requirement Harms Legitimacy

Having discounted population, money, and turnout, we turn to the one problem we see in the state’s direct democracy system that needs addressing: California ballot measures rarely receive approval from a true majority of the electorate. The available current voter data supports the conclusion that approximately 18% of the state population is the controlling “majority” deciding any given initiative measure, which is an unrepresentative sample of the community that does not reflect the population’s diversity on a variety of factors.[150] For example, one proposition became law with approval from less than 15% of registered voters.[151] We call this the slim majority problem.[152]

This problem has two contributing factors: registration and turnout. A significant proportion of eligible voters (about 25%) is not registered.[153] This is lower than in other states.[154] And some registered voters do not vote; even fewer vote consistently.[155] Calculating turnout based on eligible voters better captures the true gap between potential voters and actual voters. Since 1990, on average just under 40% of eligible voters participated in gubernatorial elections, 33% participated in presidential primaries, 24% participated in statewide primaries, and 31% of eligible voters participated in special elections.[156] Only in general presidential elections do a majority of eligible voters regularly vote.[157] This decline in voter turnout mirrors a decreased participation trend, and California is below the national average.[158]

A slim majority of registered voters regularly participate in California elections, and they are not a representative sample. On average, 50% of registered voters voted between 1990 and 2016.[159] Among eligible voters, turnout during the same period averaged less than 37%. These voters are not representative of California’s electorate: despite California’s demographic diversity, the laws end up reflecting the preferences of the regular voter, who tends to be older, whiter, and more conservative.[160] The participating electorate is the same for initiatives as voters generally: they trend towards the upper end of the income and economic scale regardless of political affiliation.[161]

The slim majority problem applies in nearly all California initiative contests. Only four propositions since 1990 received approval from a registered majority: Proposition 1A in 2004, protecting local government revenue from statewide use; Proposition 59 in 2004, providing the right of public access to government meetings and records; Proposition 35 in 2012, increasing penalties on human traffickers;[162] and Proposition 58 in 2016, restoring bilingual education in California public schools. Each passed with a resounding margin in a presidential election year.[163] No proposition since 1990 earned an eligible majority.[164]

Turnout figures for any given election do not reflect participation levels for ballot propositions. Consistently, segments of the participating electorate abstain from voting on ballot propositions. In each election from 1990 to 2016, an average of 8.1% of participating voters declined to mark a choice on each ballot proposition. Table 9 (average abstention rates) below reflects overall abstention rates in recent elections. Currently, these abstentions do not factor into a proposition’s approval because the California constitution only requires “a majority of votes thereon” for a proposition to become law.[165]

Factoring in these abstentions, even fewer ballot propositions receive approval of a majority of voters in that election. On average, in any given election, nearly a third of ballot propositions fail to win approval of a majority of that election’s voters.[166] In other words, the number of approving votes for the proposition does not exceed 50% of the number of voters participating in that election. This deficit in voter approval occurs consistently across all election types, regardless of the length of the ballot. (See below Table 9 majority approval.)

Because we view the slim majority problem as direct democracy’s chief defect in California, in the next Section we propose a solution.

F.  A Proposed Solution: The Dual Approval Quorum

Is there a workable solution to the slim majority problem? If not, can the system adequately self-maintain without a fix? Solving this problem is important because direct democracy’s legitimacy depends on a minimum level of popular interest (the electorate must opt in and collectively decide), which in turn requires a minimum level of voter participation. Yet the state’s initiative system permits an unrepresentativelysmall electoral majority to approve laws and constitutional amendments. If direct democracy relies on collective consent, something close to a true majority should be required for an initiative to pass. To correct this flaw, we suggest a quorum requirement.

While the legislature and electorate wield equivalent legislative power, their respective quorum requirements are entirely distinct. Legislative and electorate acts, whether statutes or constitutional amendments, are substantively equivalent. But the processes vary substantially: the legislature requires quorum and several stages of deliberation and committee review. The initiative requires none of those; the electorate votes, and that is all.

Quorum provides deliberative bodies the authority to act. If a body functions through collective deciding, a threshold of members must be present to take action.[167] This principle runs throughout California common law,[168] procedural rules,[169] and governing statutes.[170] At all levels of government, deliberative bodies in California face quorum requirements.[171] This is true for the state legislature and for local city councils. While the electorate legislates and functions as a deliberative body, it currently lacks a quorum requirement. This means that unlike the state’s other legislative body, the electorate can pass laws without a threshold of member approval. Adding a quorum requirement will address the representation problems with California’s current direct democracy framework and solve the slim majority problem.

There are two kinds of quorum requirements that could be added to an electoral process: a participation quorum and an approval quorum. A participation quorum requires that a minimum portion of the voting population considers the ballot measure at the polling station. That would mean a measure is not enacted unless a certain percentage of registered voters turns out to vote.[172] But this requirement tends to induce those who oppose the ballot measure to abstain from the vote entirely.[173] Because of that opportunity to game the system, we do not suggest adopting a participation quorum in California.

An approval quorum ensures that a sufficient portion of registered voters—or voters in that election, depending on the framework applied—votes in favor of the ballot measure. This sets a baseline threshold to reflect the popular will. In this system, abstentions count: voter abstention on an individual ballot measure factors into the approval calculation. A quorum requirement may also serve as a safeguard against “false majorities,” a small but intense minority supporting a particular policy goal.[174] While more common abroad, other U.S. states have adopted quorum rules for citizen initiatives. The thresholds vary: measures can only pass when voter turnout reaches 30% in Massachusetts, 35% in Nebraska, and 40% in Mississippi.[175] Oregon has a 50% participation quorum requirement for local-level property tax ballot measures.[176] Wyoming has adopted a “this election” approval quorum, where the measure will only pass when it receives approval from a majority of voters who turned out in that particular election.[177]

Adopting a dual-approval quorum framework would improve California’s direct democracy system by solving the slim majority problem and requiring a true electoral majority to enact initiative measures. The dual approval quorum solution would look like this:

An initiative could amend California constitution Article II, section 10 to change “by a majority of votes thereon” to “by a majority of votes out of all voters in that election.” The same measure could repeal SB 202’s changes to the state’s Elections Code section 9016 and establish a 25% approval quorum requirement for registered voters in all elections. It could also amend Article II, section 10 to add: “No initiative statute or referendum may take effect without approval votes from a minimum of 25% of the registered voter population.”

The measure would include a legislative ratification process for any initiative that passed the first approval threshold but not the second. This would amend Article II, section 10 to add:

Any initiative receiving approval from a majority of voters in that election, but failing to meet the registered voter threshold, is automatically referred to the legislature for consideration and possible ratification. Each house of the Legislature must hold a vote on any such initiative within 90 days of the Secretary of State’s certification of the result of the official canvass of the returns of the election. If the measure receives majority approval from each house, the measure must be presented to the Governor. It will take effect immediately if it is signed by the Governor.

These proposed reforms align with voters’ express desire to enact reforms that would reengage citizens in the initiative process.[178] The first proposal would address two key concerns with the initiative process: inadequate deliberation and lengthy ballots. Currently, when voters choose to abstain from voting on certain ballot measures, either due to a lack of knowledge, opinions on the proposition, or simple voter fatigue, those abstentions do not affect the outcome of the vote. Proponents know this and have no incentive to limit themselves to serious issues that would galvanize the public. They need only convince a determined minority of active voters. But as seen in Table 9, many voters abstain.[179] Voters armed with the knowledge that their abstentions count could then focus their own voter education on the issues that matter to them. This will provide an opportunity for greater deliberation and results that better reflect the electorate’s will.[180]

The 25% approval quorum will address direct democracy’s core legitimacy in a low turnout environment. The threshold is the equivalent of requiring at least half of registered voters to turn out to vote, with at least half of those voters approving the ballot measure. Because only general elections tend to see turnout over 50%, it may seem that the effect of a 25% approval quorum will not differ significantly from the effects of SB 202.[181] Not so—there are flaws in SB 202 that the 25% approval threshold will correct. For example, if a groundswell of voters chose to support a reform in a primary or special election, they should not have to wait another year to pass the reform. Currently, SB 202 would block such a move by limiting propositions to general elections. The 25% approval quorum will both maintain the positive elements of SB 202—preventing proposition gamesmanship in low turnout elections—and restore balance where it is too draconian by reviving the option to propose initiatives in primary and special elections. Most importantly, voters will know that no measure can pass through the ballot box that did not reflect the will of a true majority of registered voters.

The legislative ratification proposal will provide an avenue for voter-approved initiatives to become law even when low turnout bars fulfillment of the 25% quorum. Given the trend of low voter turnout overall, even a measure that earned support from 62% of voters could fail to pass the dual quorum framework if only 40% of voters turned out. Forty percent is the average turnout for recent gubernatorial elections, so this could apply to a significant number of initiatives on the ballot. But rather than permitting a measure to pass without broad voter support, the legislative ratification mechanism would ensure that the legislature considers the proposal before enacting it. And by requiring the legislature to hold a vote, the ratification mechanism ensures that the electorate is not thwarted by legislative inaction on a measure that received majority support. This would recognize voters’ expressed interest while protecting consent of the governed from minority rule.

These reforms will not diminish the initiative power. On the contrary, they will enhance voter legislative power by increasing its perceived and actual legitimacy. Intense minorities gaming the system in low turnout elections threaten that legitimacy; these reforms will prevent an unrepresentative interest group from hijacking the process. Still, we should not overstate the effects. Solving the slim majority problem does not address broader trends in voter disengagement. A quorum requirement will only mitigate the consequences of low turnout.[182] Various reforms have solved some of the legislature’s problems.[183] We see no reason why the state’s other legislators could not also tolerate some improvements.

We recognize that changes to the initiative process are extremely unlikely to pass. And there is a counterargument to this proposal:

In many states, the requirement that a proposed amendment receive a majority of all persons voting in the election, rather than just on the amendment, frustrated constitutional change. This requirement frustrated change because “political experience shows that there is a consistently smaller proportion of the total vote in a general election cast for constitutional proposals than for live candidates for office.”[184]

While we are confident that the initiative can be improved, as discussed above, the status quo still provides net benefits to the people of California. This is partly due to the effective systemic checks on the electorate that we discuss in the next Part.

III.  THE EXISTING CHECKS ON THE ELECTORATE ARE SUFFICIENT

Several serviceable checks on the electorate currently exist. Adequate checks on the electorate are necessary because any branch of government can become a tyrant if it accumulates enough power.[185] Wielding legislative powers, the electorate is no different. Maintaining both a balanced government and an equal society when direct democracy is added to a representative republic requires institutional means for maintaining the relationship between the electorate’s and representatives’ powers. California has two system-maintaining features, which on the whole are adequate to the task of managing direct democracy: the future electorate and judicial review. Those features could be improved if the initiative process itself could accept some changes (like our quorum proposal above).

Because even a meritorious proposal to change the electorate’s direct democracy tools is so unlikely to succeed, we analyze the adequacy of the existing checks on the electorate. There are several checks on the electorate’s legislative power, including some constitutional limitations:

The only express constitutional limitations on the electorate’s exercise of the statewide initiative power are those in sections 8 and 12 of article II. Section 8, subdivision (d) of article II bars initiative measures “embracing more than one subject,” and section 12 of that article bars constitutional amendments and statutes which name[] any individual to hold any office, or name[] any private corporation to perform any function or to have any power or duty . . . .”[186]

The electorate can check itself: a future electorate can always correct or undo the errors of a past electorate. And the judiciary is an effective brake on the excesses of popular sovereignty, as it is with the other state political actors. We conclude that these checks have proven to be adequate, and we expect them to continue to be so absent some changed condition.

Think of the electorate on a continuum: past, present, and future. The past electorate enacted various procedural and substantive provisions when it adopted the state constitution. That past electorate’s acts cannot prevent the present electorate from changing the substance of the constitution; nor can the present electorate stop the future electorate from doing the same.[187] Procedural limits in a constitution are similarly at the present and future electorate’s mercy.[188] Thus, whatever wrong the past and present electorate does, the future electorate can always right. Obviously, the reverse is also true: the good acts of the past and present electorates can also be undone. The point is that the electorate owns its mistakes and has the power to correct them if it wishes. The present electorate legislates knowing that the future electorate is always just around the corner, with complete power to alter the present’s enactments at will.

The judiciary’s ability to check the electorate is based on the power of judicial review. In California, the power to legislate is shared between the legislature and the electorate through the initiative process.[189] “As direct democracy has become an increasingly prevalent force in state policy making, it has shifted power away from elected representatives and toward the ‘parallel legislature’ of governing by initiative.”[190] Because the California constitution divides the state’s legislative power between the electorate and the representatives, and because the electorate acts autonomously in discretionary exercises of its powers, we argue that (for separation-of-powers purposes) the electorate should be considered an independent branch of the state government with legislative power.[191]

Armed with this general power of judicial review over initiative measures and the power to resolve separation-of-powers disputes, California courts have the mandate and ability to police the electorate when necessary. This is just and proper. Judicial review of ballot propositions fosters direct democracy—preserving direct democracy by curbing its abuses and increasing participation incentives through the appearance of legitimacy created by enforcing process fairness.[192] And judicial review is the answer to a common criticism of direct democracy—that the majority of citizens will vote to undermine the rights of the minority.[193] Ordinarily, concerns about overconcentration of power would counsel a more restrained judicial role, but in California the ultimate check on judicial authority lies with the electorate, which has used its power to remove state high court justices.[194]

Next, we review the substantive constitutional issues the initiative potentially can create for the courts to resolve, evaluate the judicial tools appropriate to each problem, and show that judicial review is generally adequate to address them.[195] We first discuss the textual limits on the initiative power (singlesubject, revision–amendment, and separation of powers), and then turn to secondary effects caused by a textually valid initiative on individual rights.

A.  SingleSubject Rule

The single-subject rule provides that an initiative measure embracing more than one subject may not be submitted to the electors or have any effect.”[196] The rule’s main purpose is “to avoid confusion . . . and to prevent the subversion of the electorate’s will.”[197] This provision was added to the California constitution in 1948, in “response to a lengthy, multifaceted initiative provision that recently had been the source of considerable controversy.”[198] The rule “is a constitutional safeguard adopted to protect against multifaceted measures of undue scope” that “serves an important role in preserving the integrity and efficacy of the initiative process.”[199]

Notwithstanding the strict language of the provision, the California Supreme Court has adopted an “accommodating and lenient” legal standard “so as not to unduly restrict . . . the people’s right to package provisions in a single bill or initiative.”[200] The court has explained:

The single-subject provision does not require that each of the provisions of a measure effectively interlock in a functional relationship. It is enough that the various provisions are reasonably related to a common theme or purpose. . . . The governing principle is that an initiative measure does not violate the single-subject requirement if, despite its varied collateral effects, all of its parts are reasonably germane to each other, and to the general purpose or object of the initiative.[201]

The “reasonably germane” standard reflects the California Supreme Court’s “liberal interpretative tradition . . . of sustaining statutes and initiatives which fairly disclose a reasonable and commonsense relationship among their various components in furtherance of a common purpose.”[202] Accordingly, the state high court has

upheld a variety of initiative measures in the face of a single-subject challenge, emphasizing that the initiative process occupies an important and favored status in the California constitutional scheme and that the single-subject requirement should not be interpreted in an unduly narrow or restrictive fashion that would preclude the use of the initiative process to accomplish comprehensive, broad-based reform in a particular area of public concern.[203]              

On the other hand, “[t]he common purpose to which the initiative’s various provisions relate, however, cannot be ‘so broad that a virtually unlimited array of provisions could be considered germane thereto and joined in this proposition, essentially obliterating the constitutional requirement.’”[204]

This leaves California courts with a broadly deferential standardone that rarely requires striking down an initiative measure, to the extent that some question the singlesubject rule’s effectiveness.[205] As one pair of commentators put it, the “single subject rule in California has devolved into a virtual nullity; it is a rule with few, if any, teeth.”[206] So while it is an important structural protection, it rarely provides a sturdy basis for judicial intervention.[207]

The criticism of the single-subject rule as a paper tiger, however, is somewhat overblown. We found 69 cases where the California Supreme Court considered a singlesubject rule challenge (see Appendix Table 3, SingleSubject Rule Cases) including both legislative acts and popular initiatives. Of those 69 cases, the court used the rule to invalidate an act 8 times (11.6%). Of the 69 results, 57 dealt with legislative acts (82.6%); the remaining 12 concerned the initiative (17.4%). In the twelve cases where the California Supreme Court expressly considered a single-subject challenge to an initiative, it relied on the rule to invalidate all or part of an initiative twice (16.7%). The rule applied to invalidate a legislative act 6 times (10.5%). Several factors explain the higher numbers for legislative versus initiative acts. Obviously, the legislature enacts more legislation than the electorate does. The singlesubject rule has applied to initiatives for only seventy of the initiative’s 105 years, while the rule has limited the legislature for all of its 167 years.[208] And there is a variant of the singlesubject rule that applies only to legislative appropriations.[209] Some of the 69 cases concern appropriations; no equivalent rule applies to the initiative. And still the rule applied to a higher percentage of initiative than legislative acts.

We recognize that the single-subject rule does not often apply. Still, the threat of a pre- or post-election single-subject challenge is an active deterrent to proponents who may otherwise push the envelope. As a practical matter, an initiative measure that has the financial and political backing to make it to the ballot is unlikely to run afoul of the single-subject rule. Well-heeled proponents are generally unwilling to risk placing an initiative on the ballot that could be vulnerable to a constitutional challenge. Proposed initiative measures are commonly prepared with the assistance of attorneys (if not drafted by them outright), and then vetted through a public review process where proponents have the opportunity to amend the proposed initiative.[210] Only then is the final proposed initiative submitted to the Attorney General to prepare the circulating title and summary.[211] This process provides proponents time to identify and address potential defects in the form of the proposed initiative measure long before it reaches the voters. That explains the singlesubject rule’s infrequent application better than the rule’s claimed weakness.

B.  Revision and Amendment

The principal limitation on the initiative is the constitutional constraint against using the initiative power to enact sweeping or fundamental changes to the state’s governmental framework through constitutional revisions. Specifically, the initiative power can be used to amend, but not revise, the California constitution.[212] An amendment is any law that effects a more modest addition or change to the state’s constitution. Revisions are laws that “fundamental[ly] change . . . the basic governmental plan or framework” set forth in the state constit ution.[213] This distinction means that far-reaching changes in the state constitution can only be accomplished through a deliberative process with the state’s legislature and electorate acting together.

Although “amendment” and “revision” are not defined in the state constitution, the text makes clear that distinct procedures apply to each act. As the California Supreme Court has put it, the concept of a revision as a higher-level exercise of constitutional power “is based on the principle that ‘comprehensive changes’ to the Constitution require more formality, discussion and deliberation than is available through the initiative process.”[214] The California Supreme Court has developed the following standard to distinguish between them:

A “revision” denotes a change that is qualitatively or quantitatively extensive, affecting the “underlying principles upon which [the Constitution] rests” or the “substantial entirety of the instrument.” By contrast, an “amendment” denotes a change that is qualitatively and quantitatively limited, making a modification “within the lines of the original instrument as will effect an improvement, or better carry out the purpose for which it was framed.”[215]

The state constitution imposes a much higher procedural barrier to enacting revisions than it does for amendments. Specifically, voters can propose and adopt constitutional amendments directly through the initiative process, while revisions may only be accomplished by the state legislature and electorate acting together.[216] As discussed above, the legislature can propose specific revisions directly for ratification by popular vote, or propose a convention to revise the constitution.[217] Prohibiting direct adoption of revisions therefore provides a critical structural safeguard against electoral overreach: it ensures that broad changes to the state constitution can only be made when the legislature and the electorate act in concert. Yet the bar is not so high that it prohibits effectively using the revision power: the legislature and electorate have together revised the state constitution 21 times (see Table 6).

While the revision–amendment distinction provides a critical structural check on the electorate’s ability to change the state constitution, when called upon to enforce this constitutional limitation, the California Supreme Court has produced mixed and arguably inconsistent results.[218] As the authors have explained:

In Strauss v. Horton, for example, the California Supreme Court held that abolishing the state right of marriage by initiative constitutional amendment was not a qualitative revision of the state constitution—reasoning that the measure did not have a substantial or, indeed, even a minimal effect on the governmental plan or framework of California. In Raven v. Deukmejian, on the other hand, the court found a qualitative violation where an initiative constitutional amendment abolished state substantive rights for criminal defendants because it altered the authority of state courts to independently interpret criminal law. Divergent results like those in Strauss and Raven invite charges of hypocrisy. Worse, comparing the results in Legislature v. Eu (upholding legislative term limits and a forty percent reduction of the legislature’s budget) with Raven (rejecting an initiative that only affected judicial discretion) invites the conclusion that the courts will protect their interests but not those of other state government branches.[219]

Strauss, in particular, highlights another critical shortcoming of the revisionamendment test. Because its primary focus is preserving the structure of California’s government, it is ill-suited to resolving disputes over initiative measures that do not significantly change to the state’s “governmental plan or framework”—even where an initiative takes aim at fundamental constitutional rights.[220]

In the following Sections we discuss doctrinal solutions to these two shortcomings.

C.  Separation of Powers

While the revisionamendment distinction provides a critical structural check on the electorate’s ability to change the state constitution, it provides an incomplete solution when courts confront an initiative that does not amount to a revision, but nevertheless infringes on the core powers of the state government’s branches.[221] These critical disputes have arisen on multiple occasions in the past and will surely arise again.[222] We have argued that this doctrine can be improved by the judiciary treating the electorate in this scenario as a co-equal branch of state government and relying on existing separation-of-powers principles to police inter-branch disputes.[223]

Applying the separation of powers doctrine to the electorate when it acts in its legislative capacity addresses the largest gap in the revisionamendment analysis. California’s separation of powers doctrine “recognizes that the three branches of government are interdependent, and it permits actions of one branch that may ‘significantly affect those of another branch.’”[224] “[A]lthough the state constitution ostensibly requires a system of three largely separate powers, the state separation of powers doctrine does not create an absolute or rigid division of functions; instead, the California view assumes that there will be some mutual oversight and influence between the branches.”[225]

Policing separation-of-powers disputes is the judiciary’s province. Courts “have not hesitated to strike down provisions of law that either accrete to a single Branch powers more appropriately diffused among separate Branches or that undermine the authority and independence of one or another coordinate Branch.”[226] While a branch “may not use its powers to ‘defeat or materially impair’ the exercise of its fellow branches’ constitutional functions, nor ‘intrude upon a core zone’ of another branch’s authority,”[227] the doctrine does not “prohibit one branch from taking action properly within its sphere that has the incidental effect of duplicating a function or procedure delegated to another branch.”[228]

Vesting shared legislative power in the state electorate, as California’s constitution does, changes the tripartite power dynamic typical of modern republican government. Article III, section 3 of the state constitution provides that “[t]he powers of state government are legislative, executive, and judicial. Persons charged with the exercise of one power may not exercise either of the others except as permitted by this Constitution.” The “primary purpose of the separation-of-powers doctrine is to prevent the combination in the hands of a single person or group of the basic or fundamental powers of government.”[229] As we have explained, the direct democracy provisions in the California constitution require including the electorate among the “persons charged with the exercise” of the state’s legislative power, which means the existing separation of powers analysis must adapt to include the electorate.[230] California’s direct democracy tools reduce the executive and legislative powers relative to the electorate, and increase the governor’s power relative to the legislature.[231] This increased diffusion of power ultimately benefits individual liberty.[232]

But that additional dispersion of power requires its own separation of powers analysis. The legislature is the creative element of government.[233] Like the legislature, with which it shares the state’s legislative power, the electorate can create separation of powers problems.[234] Judicial review is adequate to manage that problem, especially since the California Supreme Court has made it clear that the core powers analysis applies to the electorate.[235] Armed with judicial review and the revisionamendment rule (particularly with this modification), the courts are well-versed in handling separation-of-powers disputes involving the electorate.

D.  Individual Rights

What happens when the electorate passes an initiative that potentially infringes on individual rights secured by the state or federal constitution? One of the fundamental purposes of a constitution is to provide protection for individual rights.[236] Rights in a constitution are countermajoritarian.[237] Direct democracy potentially has a significant effect on individual rights, and it presents a risk for minority groups.[238] This is because the countermajoritarian individual rights necessarily conflict with the majoritarian power of the initiative: any temporary majority can effect a permanent change to individual rights that disadvantages the minority. Similarly, the principle of equal protection requires protecting minority rights against the majority,[239] while the initiative tends to preserve majority preferences.[240] And because the state’s median voter controls the final outcome of any initiative, any constitutional change will necessarily have a majoritarian bias.[241] This characteristic of the initiative favors stability over expansion of individual rights, causing a slower rate of adopting constitutional rights for minority groups.[242]

The federal constitution was designed as a representative republic, on the principle that the checks and balances inherent in the government’s design would prevent tyranny by any of the federal government’s branches, and the lack of direct democracy would prevent tyranny by the people.[243] But Congress and the President have overcome those restrictions.[244] Even the judiciary, the least dangerous branch, has been guilty of such sins.[245] State legislatures have been no less despotic at times.[246] Similarly, electoral majorities have both the ability and tendency to use the initiative process to deprive unpopular minorities of rights or to prevent such groups from gaining rights.[247] This has occurred many times in California history.[248] The takeaway here is that the electorate is no different from any other branch of government regarding the risk of tyrannical behavior.

California’s experience with same-sex marriage illustrates this point. The state constitution provides for the equal protection of individual rights.[249] In 2008, the California Supreme Court held that limiting the definition of “marriage” to opposite-sex couples violated the constitutional guarantee of equal protection.[250] But the voters then passed an initiative constitutional amendment restricting the right of marriage to only opposite-sex couples.[251] This was a difficult issue for the courts to resolve. The California high court decided that equal protection did not apply; the U.S. Supreme Court held that it did.[252] This problem is not specific to the debate over same-sex marriage, and we use that issue here only as an example of the risk the initiative can present to individual rights.

The same-sex marriage issue illustrates a significant structural limitation of the initiative. Although there are procedural hurdles to passing an initiative measure, there are few constraints on the subject matter that can be placed on the ballot. Say, for example, a group proposed an initiative measure stating that only women could vote and revoked male suffrage. Even though such a measure would be patently unconstitutional, there are no direct constitutional constraints to prevent voters from considering and approving the initiative: the Attorney General has a constitutional duty to prepare a circulating title and summary for the measure, and the proponents are then free to gather signatures to qualify it for the ballot and then campaign for its passage.[253]

In such a case, judicial intervention is the only means to prevent an unconstitutional initiative measure from reaching the ballot. As a general matter, “it is usually more appropriate to review constitutional and other challenges to ballot propositions or initiative measures after an election rather than to disrupt the electoral process by preventing the exercise of the people’s franchise, in the absence of some clear showing of invalidity.”[254] But the California Supreme Court has recognized that “the principles of popular sovereignty which led to the establishment of the initiative and referendum in California . . . do not disclose any value in putting before the people a measure which they have no power to enact.”[255] Accordingly, pre-election review of a proposed initiative is appropriate to challenge “the power of the electorate to adopt the proposal in the first instance.”[256] This can be accomplished in two primary ways. The Attorney General can seek judicial relief from its duty to prepare a circulating title and summary,[257] or citizens can bring a petition for writ of mandate to prevent the Secretary of State from acting on a proposed initiative measure.[258] In either event, judicial intervention is available to prevent a patently unconstitutional measure from reaching the ballot.[259]

Two recent examples show how this process works in practice. In 2015, a proponent submitted a proposed initiative titled the “Sodomite Suppression Act,” which sought to amend California’s criminal code to penalize what the proponent described as “sodomy” or “buggery” by requiring “that any person who willingly touches another person of the same gender for purposes of sexual gratification be put to death,” and by barring from public employment any person “who is a sodomite or who espouses sodomistic propaganda or who belongs to any group that does.”[260] The Attorney General filed a complaint for declaratory relief from its duty to prepare a circulating title and summary of the initiative on that grounds that the proposed measure was “patently unconstitutional on its face,” and that “[r]equiring the Attorney General to prepare a circulating title and summary would be inappropriate, waste public resources, generate unnecessary divisions among the public, and mislead the electorate.”[261] The proponent did not respond to the complaint, and the trial court entered a default judgment in the Attorney General’s favor, relieving it of “any obligation to prepare a title and summary of the Act.”[262] And in Planning & Conservation League v. Padilla,[263] the California Supreme Court directed the Secretary of State to refrain from placing on the ballot a proposed initiative measure to split California into three states, holding that such relief was warranted because “significant questions have been raised regarding the proposition’s validity, and because . . . the potential harm in permitting the measure to remain on the ballot outweighs the potential harm in delaying the proposition to a future election.”[264]

Accordingly, judicial review is an essential tool to police the initiative power and to ensure that it is not used to violate fundamental individual rights secured by the California and U.S. constitutions. The judiciary is adequately equipped in this area because the courts have a well-developed role and clear guidelines for policing initiative excesses to ensure the electorate remains within the lines drawn by the state and federal constitutions. In combination, these process and substantive limits on the electorate’s legislative power have on the whole proved to be capable at keeping the electorate in its lane. Given that, and the results of our data analysis, other than an incremental improvement (like our quorum idea) we see no need for major structural reforms to the initiative.

CONCLUSION

Direct democracy in California government is a net social good.[265] Rather than weakening the democratic process by removing decisions from elected representatives (thereby reducing their authority, removing incentives to act, and degrading the legitimacy of their acts), direct democracy can strengthen the democratic process by checking the legislature and contributing to legislative results that more closely conform to community views. Combining direct democracy and representative republicanism moots the debate over which system better produces optimal results. California’s experience belies the conventional wisdom: the legislature, not the electorate, is the primary constitutional change actor; the electorate is reliably reticent to pass initiatives; and the initiative is not to blame for the length and mutability of California’s constitution. Consequently, it is difficult to argue that the state is the fifth largest economy in the world despite the initiative.[266]

Direct democracy remains a popular institution in California, albeit one colored by the pervasive voter frustration with state government as a whole.[267] A significant majority of the electorate believes voters should have a direct say in making law and public policy through the initiative process, while a similarly large majority believes that the initiative process needs reformwith some of the most favored changes potentially making the initiative a more powerful political force.[268] Accordingly, despite its defects, the electorate is highly unlikely to approve any limits on its powers, and direct democracy will remain a powerful state governmental institution.[269] All things considered, that’s not so bad.

 

APPENDIX

SECRETARY OF STATE DATA SUMMARY

Between 1912 and 2016:

  • 89 referenda were titled and summarized for circulation.
  • 39 referenda (43.82%) failed to qualify for the ballot, and 50 referenda (56.18%) qualified for the ballot.
  • Of the 50 which qualified and have been voted on, 21 referenda (42%) were approved by the voters.*
  • 29 referenda (58%) were rejected by the voters.*

* Once a referendum is on the ballot, the law is repealed only if voters cast more NO votes than YES votes on the referendum in question. Accordingly, research regarding how many referendum campaigns are successful in repealing a law, should consider a referendum that was “rejected” by the voters (which thereby strikes down an existing law) as agreement by the majority of voters that the law should be repealed. Therefore, as of the end of 2016, 58% of the referenda that qualified for the ballot were successful in repealing a law.

 

 


[*] *. Lecturer in Residence and Executive Director of the California Constitution Center at the University of California, Berkeley School of Law; B.A. (1991), J.D. (1995), LL.M. (2007), and J.S.D. (2011), University of California, Berkeley.

[†] †. Senior Research Fellow, California Constitution Center; B.A., University of California, Berkeley; J.D., University of Notre Dame Law School. Mr. Duvernay is an attorney in private practice.

[‡] ‡. Senior Research Fellow, California Constitution Center; B.A., University of California, Santa Cruz; J.D., University of California, Davis. Mr. Gevercer is an attorney in private practice.

[*] **. Senior Research Fellow, California Constitution Center; B.A., Tufts University; M.A., New York University; J.D., University of California, Berkeley. Ms. Fenzel is an attorney in private practice.

[*]  The views expressed herein are solely those of the authors. The authors presented an early draft of this Article at the Korea Legislation Research Institute conference on February 2, 2018 in Seoul, South Korea, as a primer on California constitutional law and the state’s experience with direct democracy. Portions of this Article draw from the authors’ previous work on these subjects, including: David A. Carrillo & Stephen M. Duvernay, California Constitutional Law: The Guarantee Clause and California’s Republican Form of Government, 62 UCLA L. Rev. Disc. 104 (2014); David A. Carrillo, Stephen M. Duvernay & Brandon V. Stracener, California Constitutional Law: Popular Sovereignty, 68 Hastings L.J. 731 (2017); David A. Carrillo & Danny Y. Chou, California Constitutional Law: Separation of Powers, 45 U.S.F. L. Rev. 655 (2011); and David A. Carrillo & Stephen M. Duvernay, The California Judiciary, 7 Cal. J. Pol. & Pol’y, no. 4, 2015, at 1. Thanks are due to our research assistants, the brothers Belcher, for their dedicated assistance on this project.

 [1]. It takes little work to find scholarly and popular press criticism of California’s direct democracy tools. See generally, e.g., Arne R. Leonard, In Search of the Deliberative Initiative: A Proposal for a New Method of Constitutional Change, 69 Temp. L. Rev. 1203 (1996); Note, California’s Constitutional Amendomania, 1 Stan. L. Rev. 279 (1949); Harry N. Scheiber, Foreword: The Direct Ballot and State Constitutionalism, 28 Rutgers L.J. 787 (1997); Rachel A. Van Cleave, A Constitution In Conflict: The Doctrine of Independent State Grounds and the Voter Initiative in California, 21 Hastings Const. L.Q. 95 (1993); Direct Democracy: Origin of the Species, Economist (Apr. 20, 2011), https://www.economist.com/special-report/2011/04/20/origin-of-the-species; Power from the People, Economist (July 6, 2013), https://www.economist.com/united-states/2013/07/06/power-from-the-people (“Direct democracy is often blamed for making California ungovernable.”); Proposition 13: War By Initiative, Economist (Apr. 20, 2011), https://www.economist.com/special-report/2011/04
/20/war-by-initiative; California’s Legislature: The Withering Branch, Economist (Apr. 20, 2011), https://www.economist.com/special-report/2011/04/20/the-withering-branch. We note that the criticism is not universal and that California’s direct democracy has other defenders. See, e.g., Zev Yaroslavsky, Can Californians Handle Direct Democracy?, L.A. Times (Nov. 6, 2016), http://www.latimes.com
/opinion/op-ed/la-oe-yaroslavsky-ballot-initiative-20161106-story.html.

 [2]. Eastlake v. Forest City Enters., Inc., 426 U.S. 668, 672–73 (1976) (citing The Federalist, No. 39 (James Madison)) (noting that the power to govern comes entirely from the people, who can delegate powers to their representatives and reserve powers to themselves); Brosnahan v. Brown, 651 P.2d 274, 277 (Cal. 1982); C&C Construction, Inc. v. Sacramento Mun. Util. Dist., 18 Cal. Rptr. 3d 715, 727 (Ct. App. 2004) (“In California, the people are sovereign, whose power may be exercised by initiative.”). For the distinction in California law between the people and the electorate, see People v. Lynch, 51 Cal. 15, 27–28 (1875):

But the “sovereignty of the people” is more than a meaningless phrase. The people of California created the State government, and it was for this people to place (in the State Constitution) as many checks upon, and conditions and limitations of the general grant of legislative, executive or judicial power as they deemed proper or expedient. The people of the State alone possess and can exercise supreme and absolute authority; the Legislature, and the other departments of government, are but the depositaries of delegated powers more or less limited—according to the terms of the Constitution.

Id. (internal citations and quotations omitted); see also Karl Manheim & Edward P. Howard, A Structural Theory of the Initiative Power in California, 31 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 1165, 1191–92 (1998) (“California’s constitution thus gives a name to the power of self-governance. The ability of individuals to ‘create’ and regulate government institutions is dubbed the ‘political power.’ This is the organic power of a sovereign polity. It has been invoked twice in California, in the 1849 and 1879 conventions.”); Herman Belz, Popular Sovereignty, the Right of Revolution, and California Statehood, 6 Nexus 3, 11 (2001) (noting that popular sovereignty is the right of self-government inherent in any community, the right of internal legislation in a community).

 [3]. Other than the United States, only Switzerland makes substantial use of direct democracy. Ronald Steiner, Understanding the Prop 8 Litigation: The Scope of Direct Democracy and Role of Judicial Scrutiny, 14 Nexus 81, 83 (2009). But see Dennis C. Mueller, Constitutional Democracy 100, n.5 (1996) (noting that modern Japan, Poland, Iceland, Turkey, the former West Germany, England, and Wales have used popular assemblies on a small scale). In the United States, it is primarily an artifact of Progressive politics in the central and western states. Robert F. Williams, State Constitutional Law Processes, 24 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 169, 205 (1983); Steiner, supra, at 84.

 [4]. For an excellent contemporary overview of state constitutional change mechanisms, see John Dinan, State Constitutional Politics: Governing by Amendment in the American States 11–23 (2018). Note that there is some variation in the various tabulations of how many states have which initiative procedures (for example, in the authorities cited infra note 5), and for consistency, we employ John Dinan’s numbers because they are the most recent.

 [5]. Mark Baldassare & Cheryl Katz, The Coming Age of Direct Democracy 9–11 (2008) (noting the most recent state to adopt the initiative was Mississippi in 1992); Shaun Bowler & Amihai Glazer, Direct Democracy’s Impact on American Political Institutions 2, 35 (Palgrave Macmillan eds., 2008); Bruce E. Cain & Roger G. Noll, Constitutional Reform in California 265 (1995); Thomas E. Cronin, Direct Democracy: The Politics of Initiative, Referendum, and Recall 47, 51, tbl. 3.1 (1999); Dinan, supra note 4, at 16–17; Lawrence LeDuc, The Politics of Direct Democracy 137 (2003) (thirty-one states have some kind of referendum process, twenty-four have the initiative specifically); Tracy M. Gordon, Pub. Policy Inst. of Cal., The Local Initiative in California 3 (2004); see also Initiative and Referendum Institute, Univ. S. Cal., http://www.iandrinstitute.org/states.cfm (last visited Apr. 9, 2019).

 [6]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 1.

 [7]. See Gordon S. Wood, The Creation of the American Republic, 1776–1787, at 18–19 (1998).

 [8]. Id. at 19.

 [9]. Jonathan Zasloff, Taking Politics Seriously: A Theory of California’s Separation of Powers, 51 UCLA L. Rev. 1079, 1122–23 (2004).

 [10]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 56, 83, 85.

 [11]. Wood, supra note 7, at 363–72.

 [12]. See Leroy A. Wright, Reasons Why Senate Constitutional Amendment No. 22 Should Not Be Adopted, in Proposed Amendments to the Constitution of the State of California, with Legislative Reasons for and Against the Adoption Thereof 8, 8 (1911) (“[The initiative’s] tendency is to change the republican form of our government and head it towards democracy, and history teaches that democracies have universally ended in turbulence and disaster.”).

 [13]. David A. Carrillo, Stephen M. Duvernay & Brandon V. Stracener, California Constitutional Law: Popular Sovereignty, 68 Hastings L.J. 731, 747–51 (2017).

 [14]. See Wood, supra note 7, at 21.

 [15]. Carrillo et al., supra note 13, at 751–62.

 [16]. Wood, supra note 7, at 20.

 [17]. Id.; Perry v. Brown, 265 P.3d 1002, 1027 (Cal. 2011) (noting the electorate’s “authority to propose and adopt state constitutional amendments or statutes embodied in the initiative provisions of the California Constitution is essentially a legislative authority”); Carrillo et al., supra note 13, at 747–50; see also Adrian Vermeule, Mechanisms of Democracy 67 (2007) (arguing that self-interested enactments by a popular majority, even if temporary, “systemically tend to enjoy a protection against subsequent appeal that impartial ones do not possess” because such enactments will have a “core group of intensely interested defenders around to defend them from repeal” that impartial enactments lack).

 [18]. See, e.g., John M. Allswang, The Initiative and Referendum in California, 1898–1998, at 3–4 (2000) (“[California] has used these mechanisms almost constantly and with accelerating frequency throughout the twentieth century—more so than any other state.”).

 [19]. Consider, for example, Proposition 140 (Cal. 1990) (imposing term limits and solving the problem of effectively lifetime legislative seats); Proposition 11 (Cal. 2008) and Proposition 20 (Cal. 2010) (creating the California Citizens Redistricting Commission and solving the problem of the legislature being unable to agree on redistricting); and Proposition 25 (Cal. 2010) (solving the problem of the perennially late state budget by removing the two-thirds vote requirement for a revenue-neutral budget and docking legislator pay after the budget deadline).

 [20]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 60.

 [21]. The Federalist No. 10, at 74–79 (James Madison); Gordon, supra note 5, at 7.

 [22]. In fact, a popular vote was disfavored at the time of the nation’s founding. The U.S. Constitution was ratified by the states, not by plebiscite, and only a few early state constitutions were popularly approved. Charles A. Beard & Birl E. Shultz, Documents on the State-Wide Initiative, Referendum and Recall 15, 28–29 (1912).

 [23]. Gordon, supra note 5, at 7. But see Akhil Reed Amar, The Consent of the Governed: Constitutional Amendment Outside Article V, 94 Colum. L. Rev. 457 (1994) (arguing for an unenumerated right of a majority of voters to amend the federal constitution); Akhil Reed Amar, Philadelphia Revisited: Amending the Constitution Outside Article V, 55 U. Chi. L. Rev. 1043 (1988) (arguing for the unenumerated rights of voters to amend the Constitution).

 [24]. John Ross Browne, Report of the Debates of the Convention of California, on the Formation of the State Constitution, in September and October, 1849, at 34 (statement by Mr. Norton).

 [25]. Cal. Const. art II, § 1. Compare this with the Swiss concept of popular sovereignty, where the people are the supreme authority. Swiss cantons began experimenting with direct democracy in the 1830s, and the Swiss constitution has contained the initiative power since 1848. Gordon, supra note 5, at 7, n.1. Under the Swiss constitution, the Swiss people are sovereign and ultimately the supreme political authority; the concept includes all Swiss adults who are eligible to vote—approximately 4.8 million citizens, or 60% of the population. Bundesverfassung [BV] [Constitution] Apr. 18, 1999, tit. 5, ch. 2, art. 148 (Switz.), translated at https://www.admin.ch/opc/en/classified-compilation/19995395
/index.html.

 [26]. Joseph R. Grodin et al., The California State Constitution 28–29 (Oxford Univ. Press, 2d ed., 2016); Beard & Shultz, supra note 22; Stephen H. Sutro, Interpretation of Initiatives by Reference to Similar Statutes: Canons of Construction Do Not Adequately Measure Voter Intent, 34 Santa Clara L. Rev. 945, 948 (1994).

The initiative process has been characterized as a “legislative battering ram”—a tool for the populace to enact legislation ignored by elected representatives. Lobbyist control of Sacramento at the turn of the century prompted California professionals and small businessmen to push the initiative process as a means to give power back to the people. Accordingly, the initiative process was designed to allow grassroots access to law-making. Structurally, the process is relatively unchanged from its original form of 1911.

Sutro, supra, at 948.

 [27]. Beard & Shultz, supra note 22 passim; Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 6.

 [28]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 7; Grodin et al., supra note 26, at 29; Gordon, supra note 5, at 8; Williams, supra note 3, at 205.

 [29]. As the California Supreme Court explained

[i]n California, a principal target of the [progressive] movement’s ire was the Southern Pacific Railroad, which the movement’s supporters believed not only controlled local public officials and state legislators but also had inordinate influence on the state’s judges, who—in the view of the progressive movement—at times improperly had interpreted the law in a manner unduly favorable to the railroad’s interest.

Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48, 84 (Cal. 2009); see also Cronin, supra note 5, at 56–57 (noting that the direct democracy reforms were not the “‘panacea for all our ills,’ said California governor Hiram Johnson, ‘yet they do give the electorate the power of action when desired, and they do place in the hands of the people the means by which they may protect themselves’”); Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 9; Gordon, supra note 5, at 1. Senate Constitutional Amendment 22 was proposed by the legislature under the procedure provided by Article 18 section 1, which does not distinguish between the procedure for the legislature to propose amendments or revisions. The version of Article 18 section 1 from the 1879 constitution, in effect in 1911, provided:

Any amendment or amendments to this Constitution may be proposed in the Senate or Assembly, and if two-thirds of all the members elected to each of the two Houses shall vote in favor thereof, such proposed amendment or amendments shall be entered in their Journals, with the yeas and nays taken thereon; and it shall be the duty of the Legislature to submit such proposed amendment or amendments to the people in such manner, and at such time, and after such publication as may be deemed expedient. Should more amendments than one be submitted at the same election they shall be so prepared and distinguished, by numbers or otherwise, that each can be voted on separately. If the people shall approve and ratify such amendment or amendments, or any of them, by a majority of the qualified electors voting thereon, such amendment or amendments shall become a part of this Constitution.

See also Robert Desty, The Constitution of the State of California 362 (Sumner Whitney & Co., 1879).

 [30]. Governor Johnson put it this way:

How best can we arm the people to protect themselves hereafter? If we can give to the people the means by which they may accomplish such other reforms as they desire, the means as well by which they may prevent the misuse of the power temporarily centralized in the Legislature . . . then all that lies in our power will have been done in the direction of safeguarding the
future. . . . And while I do not by any means believe the initiative, the referendum, and the recall are the panacea for all our political ills, yet they do give to the electorate the power of action when desired, and they do place in the hands of the people the means by which they may protect themselves. . . . The opponents of direct legislation and the recall, however they may phrase their opposition, in reality believe the people can not be trusted. On the other hand, those of us who espouse these measures do so because of our deep-rooted belief in popular government, and not only in the right of the people to govern, but in their ability to govern.

Inaugural Address of Governor Hiram Johnson (Jan. 3, 1911), in Franklin Hichborn, Story of the Session of the California Legislature of 1911, at iv–v (James H. Barry Co., 1911).

 [31]. Cal. Const. art. XVIII, § 1 (1879).

Any amendment or amendments to this Constitution may be proposed in the Senate or Assembly, and if two-thirds of all the members elected to each of the two Houses shall vote in favor thereof . . . it shall be the duty of the Legislature to submit such proposed amendment or amendments to the people. . . . If the people shall approve and ratify such amendment or amendments . . . by a majority of the qualified electors voting thereon, such amendment or amendments shall become a part of this Constitution.

 [32]. Initiative and Referendum. California Proposition 7 (1911), U. Cal. Hastings C.L., https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/7 (last visited Apr. 9, 2019) (Senate Constitutional Amendment 22); Recall by the Electors of Public Officials, Proposition 8 (1911), U. Cal. Hastings C.L., https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/8 (last visited Apr. 9, 2019) (Senate Constitutional Amendment 23).

 [33]. The direct democracy provisions were approved as Proposition 7 (initiative and referendum) and Proposition 8 (recall). There is an argument that adding the direct democracy improperly revised the state constitution in 1911, see Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1230–31, 1235 (concluding “[s]o what! Given the ethereal ill-understood nature of how popular sovereigns gain widespread legitimacy, is not the foregoing analysis mere formalism?”). We agree. To the extent it was a revision, that process requires a legislative proposal and popular vote, which is what happened. After more than a century of judicial and political acceptance, this is at most an interesting academic argument.

 [34]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 13; Gordon, supra note 5, at 23; see also, e.g., Allswang, supra note 18, at 1. Regardless of which state is number one, at least one commentator argues that California has set the standard for direct democracy. LeDuc, supra note 5, at 149.

 [35]. Statewide Initiatives Since 1904–2000, Initiative & Referendum Inst., Univ. S. Cal., http://www.iandrinstitute.org/docs/Statewide-Initiatives-1904-2000.pdf (last visited Apr. 9, 2019) (individually describing and tabulating every initiative measure on each state’s ballot by year in the given period). The California Secretary of State calculates a different number of ballot-qualified initiatives for this period (1904–2000): 286. California would rank second with either figure. History of California Initiatives 1912–2017, Cal. Sec’y State, http://www.sos.ca.gov/elections/ballot-measures/resources-and-historical-information/history-california-initiatives (last visited Apr. 9, 2019)

 [36]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 16–17.

 [37]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 13 (recall), Cal. Const. art. II, § 9(a) (referendum), Cal. Const. art. II, § 8(a) (initiative).

 [38]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 13; accord Gordon, supra note 5, at 1. The electorate attempted to recall sitting governors thirty-two times between 1911 and 2003, but the recall of Governor Gray Davis was the first successful attempt in the state, and only the second time that the governor of any state had ever been recalled (the first was North Dakota Governor Lynn Frazier in 1921). Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 11.

 [39]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 1.

 [40]. Ann Bowman & Richard C. Kearney, State and Local Government 98 (Wadsworth Publishing, 10th ed. 2016). The election in 1986 when three California Supreme Court justices (including the Chief Justice) were removed from the bench is sometimes mentioned in this context. This is incorrect; those justices were voted out in a regular retention election, rather than through a recall. Recalls of judges are exceedingly rare, in California and in general. See Cal. Constitution Ctr., What Does California’s Experience with Recall of Judges Teach Us?, SCOCABlog (Nov. 10, 2016), http://scocablog.com/what-does-californias-experience-with-recall-of-judges-teach-us.

 [41]. See Direct Democracy Database, Int’l Inst. Democracy & Electoral Assistance, https://www.idea.int/data-tools/data/direct-democracy (last visited Apr. 10, 2019) (defining in its glossary a referendum as “[a] direct democracy procedure consisting of a vote of the electorate on an issue of public policy such as a constitutional amendment or a draft law. Also known as popular consultation or a plebiscite”).

 [42]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 9(a); Gordon, supra note 5, at 1; Mueller, supra note 3, at 177–78.

 [43]. See, e.g., California Ballot Measures, Berkeley L. Libr., https://www.law.berkeley.edu
/library/dynamic/guide.php?id=29 (last updated Sept. 18, 2012) (“Despite a recent uptick in use of this device (9 referenda filed in 2011 alone, compared to less than 15 per decade since inception, and only 1 or 2 per decade in the 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s and 90s), the history of referenda in California can still be summarized in less than five pages.” (emphasis removed)).

 [44]. Summary of Data, Cal. Sec’y of State, https://elections.cdn.sos.ca.gov/ballot-measures/pdf/referenda-data.pdf (last visited Apr. 10, 2019) (providing the California Secretary of State’s summary of California referendum results). As the Secretary of State’s summary notes, a law is repealed by referendum

only if voters cast more NO votes than YES votes on the referendum in question. Accordingly, research regarding how many referendum campaigns are successful in repealing a law, should consider a referendum that was “rejected” by the voters (which thereby strikes down an existing law) as agreement by the majority of voters that the law should be repealed. Therefore, as of the end of 2016, 58% of the referenda that qualified for the ballot were successful in repealing a law.

Id.

 [45]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 8(a); Gordon, supra note 5, at 1; Mueller, supra note 3, at 178. California had both a direct citizens’ initiative and an indirect legislative initiative until 1966, when the electorate abolished the indirect process, in part due to its lengthy pre-election circulation period. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 10. In 1965, the Constitution Revision Commission recommended that the indirect initiative process be eliminated due to disuse. Cal. Sec’y of State, A History of California Initiatives 9 (2002).

 [46]. City of Malibu v. Cal. Coastal Comm’n, 18 Cal. Rptr. 3d 40, 48 (Ct. App. 2004) (“Good governance cannot permit local voters to override a state decision with a local referendum. . . . [W]hether legislative or administrative . . . to permit local voters to overturn state enactments would upend our governmental structure and invite chaos.”); see also Jahr v. Casebeer, 83 Cal. Rptr. 2d 172, 176–77 (Ct. App. 1999) (discussing state preemption and limits on local referenda). The voters in cities and counties have local initiative and referendum powers. Cal. Const. art. II, §11. It is generally co-extensive with the legislative power of the local governing body. DeVita v. County of Napa, 889 P.2d 1019, 1026 (Cal. 1995); Simpson v. Hite, 222 P.2d 225, 228 (Cal. 1950). It may even be broader than the statewide initiative power. Rossi v. Brown, 889 P.2d 557, 561 (Cal. 1995).

 [47]. The California constitution grants amendment power only to the electorate. Cal. Const. art. II, § 8; art. XVIII, §§ 3, 4; Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48, 79–80 (Cal. 2009) (noting that a proposed amendment or a proposed revision of the Constitution must be submitted to the voters, and becomes effective if approved by a majority of votes cast thereon at the election); Rossi v. Brown, 889 P.2d 557, 561 n.3 (Cal. 1995). The initiative is not a right granted to the electorate, it is a power reserved by them. Associated Home Builders of the Greater Eastbay, Inc. v. City of Livermore, 557 P.2d 473, 477 (Cal. 1976).

 [48]. Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 279 (explaining the distinctions between the people’s political power and the electorate’s initiative power); see also Carrillo et al., supra note 13, at 743–47; Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1194–96.

 [49]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 10(c) (“The Legislature may amend or repeal an initiative statute by another statute that becomes effective only when approved by the electors unless the initiative statute permits amendment or repeal without the electors’ approval.”); see also Sutro, supra note 26, at 949. The Governor’s veto power applies only to bills passed by the Legislature. Cal. Const. art. IV, § 10(a).

 [50]. See infra Table 6 (all amendments by type).

 [51]. The California legislature’s ability to propose constitutional amendments remained unchanged after the 1911 amendments that introduced the electorate’s ability to do the same by itself. So going forward from 1911, we distinguish between legislative constitutional amendments (those placed on the ballot by the legislature) and initiative constitutional amendments (those placed on the ballot by the electorate).

 [52]. Consistent with the constitutional and doctrinal distinction between amendments and revisions, we count them separately.

 [53]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 3.

 [54]. Sherry Bebitch Jeffe, A History Lesson on Part-Time Lawmaking, L.A. Times (Aug. 8, 2004), http://articles.latimes.com/2004/aug/08/opinion/op-jeffe8.

 [55]. See infra Table 6 (all amendments by type). For other estimates, see, for example, Grodin, et al., supra note 26, at 29 (120 initiatives approved from 1914–2012); California Research In-Depth: Constitution, Georgetown L. Libr., http://guides.ll.georgetown.edu/california-in-depth/constitution (last updated Dec. 10, 2018) (“California’s current constitution was ratified on May 7, 1879 and has been amended over 480 times.”).

 [56]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 25–26 tbl.1.3 (showing that Alabama has 926 amendments, nearly double California’s); see also Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 172; Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 265.

 [57]. Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 265. But see Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 10 (“Most states are in the range of 5 to 8 percent of voters participating in the last gubernatorial election.”).

 [58]. See, e.g., Lessons from California: The Perils of Extreme Democracy, Economist (Apr. 20, 2011), https://www.economist.com/leaders/2011/04/20/the-perils-of-extreme-democracy.

 [59]. Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 267.

 [60]. See infra Table 6.

 [61]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 11. For example, every state constitution permits its legislature to generate amendments. Id. at 11, 13.

 [62]. Id. at 23. California’s amendment rate ranks fourth among the states, after Alabama, Louisiana, and South Carolina. Id. at 25–26 tbl.1.3.

 [63]. Using John Dinan’s average of 150 amendments per state and 1.3 amendments per year, id. at 23, California exceeds both figures with 518 total amendments and three amendments on average per year 1850–2017, see infra Table 6.

 [64]. See Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 275–77 (“[I]t would be wrong to blame the policy orientation of the California Constitution per se or its high rate of amendability on the initiative.”). The authors argue that the age and complexity factors contribute to California’s amendment rate and point out that constitutions (like California’s) adopted during the late 1800s are populist documents, and California adopted its direct democracy tools at the height of the Progressive era. Id. at 276 (“[T]he main causes of California’s constitutional hyper-amendability are the era in which it was adopted and the influence that the populist and Progressive movements had on its contents.”).

 [65]. California’s constitution has featured significant constitutional legislation since the original 1849 constitution was debated. Brown, supra note 24, at 33, (“The proposed bill is objectionable. It embraces legislative enactments. . . . When a Convention assumes to pass laws and impose them upon the people, it constitutes itself an oligarchy.”) (statement by Mr. Botts); id. at 41 (arguing for no legislative enactments in a bill of rights as that subject belongs in statute books) (statements by Mr. McCarver, Mr. Ord, and Mr. Jones); id. at 42 (“While taking the first step in the first movement to form the first fundamental law of the new State, it would be improper to insert legislative enactments for her government five, ten, or twenty years hence.”) (statement by Mr. Shannon).

 [66]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 25–26 tbl.1.3.

 [67]. Dinan, supra note 4, at 16–17 and at 17 tbl.1.2. We exclude Massachusetts and Mississippi because the legislatures in those states can either block or change initiative amendments.

 [68]. Cal. Constitution Ctr., California’s Constitution Is Not the Longest, SCOCABlog (June 24, 2017), http://scocablog.com/californias-constitution-is-not-the-longest. And California’s is not the longest constitution in the world: it is the eighth longest constitution worldwide. Id. Cain and Noll argue that the more topics covered by a constitution, the greater the likely perceived need for amendment over time, and that California’s constitution covers the widest range of topics with the greatest degree of specificity compared with the other states. Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 273, 276. Note that others reach different results on this issue. See, e.g., Grodin, et al., supra note 26, at 23 (noting California has the world’s third-longest constitution after India and Louisiana) (citing Brian P. Janiskee & Ken Masugi, Democracy in California: Politics and Government in the Golden State (Rowman & Littlefield, 3d ed. 2011)).

 [69]. But see Dinan, supra note 4, at 28 (“Every major study has concluded that the longer and more detailed state constitutions are amended more frequently than short and spare constitutions.”).

 [70]. There is no scholarly consensus on why some state constitutions are amended more or less than others, and in particular there is disagreement about the citizen initiative amendment’s effects. Dinan, supra note 4, at 24–30.

 [71]. See, e.g., Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1173.

 [72]. The source data from Tables 3, 4, 5, and 6 and Figures 1–8, is taken from the California Secretary of State study, History of California Initiatives 1912–2002, Cal. Sec’y of State, http://www.sos.ca.gov/elections/ballot-measures/resources-and-historical-information/history-california
-initiatives (last visited Apr. 10, 2019), along with an updated 2011 version of the same table provided directly to us by Secretary of State staff, data on titled initiatives provided by the initiative coordinator at the California Office of the Attorney General, the Initiative and Referendum Institute at the University of Southern California Historical Database, and the Hastings College of the Law California Ballot Pamphlet, Propositions and Initiatives databases. The Secretary of State numbers are only current to 2017; as of this article’s publication, the 2018 numbers were not available. And note that the California Supreme Court occasionally removes measures from the ballot; these few instances are included as rejected. See Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 6; Cain & Noll, supra note 5, at 268; Ctr. for Governmental Studies, Democracy by Initiative: Shaping California’s Fourth Branch of Government 2 tbl.1, 6 tbl.2, 12 tbl.5 (2d ed. 2008).

 [73]. There are conflicting study results about whether voter participation and approval are related to ballot position. See Cronin, supra note 5, at 68­–69. We think this supports the idea that there is a maximum effective use limit for the initiative that is independent of how many proposals are on the ballot.

 [74]. See Wyn Grant, Direct Democracy in California: Example or Warning?, in Democracy and North America 133, 137–38 (Alan Ware ed., Frank Cass & Co., 1996) (arguing that while the number of circulated initiatives shows a strong upward trend, the number qualified does not rise as quickly, and the gap between circulated and approved initiatives is much wider than that between qualifying and approved initiatives.). But see Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 17 (arguing that the overall rate of initiative passage has increased from an average of 35% in the 1900’s to 53% from 2000 to 2006). Note that Baldassare and Katz worked from partial data. With the benefit of data for the whole period of 2000–2010, the research here shows that passage rates during that period are within the normal range.

 [75]. The increase in initiatives and amendments also coincides with the anti-tax movement that caused the passage of the property tax reform initiative Proposition 13 in 1978. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 75; Gordon, supra note 5, at 2 fig.1.1. Doubtless there are sociological contributing factors to explain the cyclical rise, fall, and rise of initiative usage, such as distraction during and disinterest following World War II. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 12; Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 5 (showing initiatives declined during and after World War II to a low in the 1960’s, increasing beginning in the late 1970’s and continuing to the present).

 [76]. See, e.g., Allswang, supra note 18, at 248 (“[T]here is no evidence that voters make much distinction between an initiative that is a statute and one that is a constitutional amendment.”).

 [77]. Our results for California are consistent with conditions in other states: “Legislature-referred amendments make up the vast majority of recent amendments, generally about 90 percent of all amendments in each election cycle.” Dinan, supra note 4, at 34.

 [78]. This analysis does not cover the nature of the initiatives tabulated here, in the sense of whether they advanced the aims of a particular political party or interest group, or more generally the distribution of conservative or liberal principles in initiatives. Note, however, that there is some support for the conclusion that California initiatives overall do not indicate any bias in favor of liberal or conservative causes. See Robert D. Cooter, The Strategic Constitution 144 (2000).

 [79]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 247 (“[T]he proportion of initiatives that ends up in the court system has greatly increased in recent years.”); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 152 (“[A]bout half of the initiatives passed in California . . . between 1960 and 1999 faced legal challenges . . . and many had significant portions of their content invalidated . . . .”).

 [80]. This convergence provides some support for Allswang’s conclusion that “the direct legislation process is having a greater-than-ever effect on current California and even national affairs,” Allswang, supra note 18, at 245, but given our other findings, we would not characterize this evidence so strongly.

 [81]. See Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 221.

 [82]. See generally James Surowiecki, The Wisdom of Crowds: Why the Many Are Smarter than the Few and How Collective Wisdom Shapes Business, Economies, Societies, and Nations (2004).

 [83]. See Thomas Fuller, The Pleasure and Pain of Being California, the World’s 5th-Largest Economy, N.Y. Times, (May 7, 2018), https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/07/us/california-economy-growth.html; Gross State Product, Cal. Dep’t. of Fin., http://www.dof.ca.gov/Forecasting
/Economics/Indicators/Gross_State_Product (last visited Apr. 10, 2019); Regional Data: GDP and Personal Data, Bureau Econ. Analysis, https://apps.bea.gov/iTable/iTable.cfm?0=1200&isuri=1
&reqid=70&step=10&1=1&2=200&3=sic&4=1&5=xx&6=-1&7=-1&8=-1&9=70&10=levels#reqid
=70&step=10&isuri=1&7003=200&7004=naics&7035=-1&7005=1&7006=xx&7001=1200&7036=-1&7002=1&7090=70&7007=-1&7093=levels (last visited Apr. 10, 2019).

 [84]. See Cal. Dep’t of State, Reasons Why Senate Constitutional Amendment No. 22 Should Be Adopted, in Proposed Amendments to the Constitution of the State of California, with Legislative Reasons for and Against the Adoption Thereof 5, 5–6 (1911) (“It is not intended and will not be a substitute for legislation, but will constitute that safeguard which the people should retain for themselves, to supplement the work of the legislature by initiating those measures which the legislature either viciously or negligently fails or refuses to enact; and to hold the legislature in check, and veto or negative such measures as it may viciously or negligently enact.”).

Moreover, a study of the history of the initiative and referendum in those states where they have been in vogue shows that representative government is not destroyed. In most states the system has scarcely been applied at all, and remains in abeyance to be used whenever any considerable portion of the voters think that the legislature has failed to do its duty; and even in Oregon, where the system has been most extensively used, the legislature has been by no means abolished, or even set on the way to destruction.

Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 22–23, 37 (discussing “the advantages which the representative system affords in initiation may be combined with those of popular initiative”).

 [85]. See generally David A. Carrillo & Danny Y. Chou, California Constitutional Law: Separation of Powers, 45 U.S.F. L. Rev. 655 (2011).

 [86]. California Term Limits, Proposition 140 (1990), Ballotpedia, https://ballotpedia.org
/California_Term_Limits,_Proposition_140_(1990) (last visited Apr. 10, 2019). This proposition modified and added to the California Constitution, see Cal. Const. art. IV, §§ 1.5, 2, 4.5, 7.5; art. V, § 11; art. VII, § 11(d); art. IX, § 2; art. XIII, § 17; art. XX, § 7).

 [87]. California Proposition 20, Congressional Redistricting (2010), Ballotpedia, https://ballotpedia.org/California_Proposition_20,_Congressional_Redistricting_(2010) (last visited Apr. 10, 2019) (modifying and adding to the California Constitution, see Cal. Const. art. XXI, §§ 1–3); California Proposition 25, Majority Vote for Legislature to Pass the Budget (2010), Ballotpedia, https://ballotpedia.org/California_Proposition_25,_Majority_Vote_for_Legislature_to_Pass_the_Budget_(2010) (last visited Apr. 10, 2019) (modifying and adding to the California Constitution, see Cal. Const. art. IV, § 12).

 [88]. For example, the legislatively-referred constitutional amendment Proposition 14 in 2010 abolished the party primary system, replacing it with a single open primary with a top-two finish regardless of party.

 [89]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 1–2, 5 (discussing how the initiative process lacks critical legislative process elements and has intended and unintended effects on ability of representative government to develop comprehensive policy).

 [90]. One Hundred and Thirty-First Day, in 3 Debates and Proceedings of the Constitutional Convention of the State of California 1268, 1277 (Sacramento, J. D. Young, Supt. State Prtg. 1881) (statement of Mr. Ayers) (“It is true that large bodies are unwieldy and move slowly, but they move surely and justly, and they are representative in their character. They take in and represent all the diversified interests of the State, and every measure is thoroughly and exhaustively discussed before it is acted upon.”).

 [91]. Wright, supra note 12, at 8.

It may be easy to determine what the effect of a given law will be upon a certain trade or a particular community, but its ramifications often extend beyond the vision of the wisest. Well-meaning laws not infrequently bring about results not contemplated. . . . (b) . . . No law should be enacted without a systematic study of its necessity, and the injury it may inflict as well as the evil it is intended to correct. . . . (c) Any ill-considered law is dangerous to the public good. . . . (g) Every law before being enacted should be submitted to some forum in which it is subject to deliberation and amendment. Under the proposed initiative and referendum no amendment is possible, even though a law should be proposed containing a provision which is palpably unjust and vicious.

Id.

 [92]. See Cooter, supra note 78, at 28 (presented with several choices, citizens vote strategically); id. at 214–15 (raising transaction costs decreases demand for enacting legislation, causing increased total expenditures on legislation focused on laws considered necessary not merely desirable, privileging the status quo).

 [93]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 128; Cooter, supra note 78, at 214–15 (raising transaction costs decreases demand for enacting legislation, causing increased total expenditures on legislation focused on laws considered necessary not merely desirable, privileging the status quo).

 [94]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 16.

 [95]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 248 (“This chicken-and-egg argument has been around for a long time, indeed since Progressivism.”); Grant, supra note 74, at 142; The Withering Branch, supra note 1 (“California’s legislature must therefore have undergone a stunning decline in the past three decades. What role the initiative process had in this deterioration is a chicken-and-egg question. In Hiram Johnson’s day initiatives seemed to be needed as a check on a venal legislature. Now perhaps a dysfunctional legislature is triggering a plethora of initiatives as citizens take matters into their own hands.”).

 [96]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 249; Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 133; Joseph de Maistre, 1 Lettres et Opuscules Inédits, no. 53 Letter of 15 August 1811 (1851) (“Toute nation a le gouvernement qu’elle mérite”), reprinted in The Yale Book of Quotations 485 (Fred R. Shapiro ed., 2006).

 [97]. Cooter, supra note 78, at 4. Note that competition in government is not an unqualified good—democracy simply is the best overall at minimizing the maximum potential harm from such competition by harnessing it to achieve greater citizen satisfaction with government. See id. at 128–29 (“Increasing political competition carries the hope of improving alignment between the interests of politicians and the preferences of citizens.”); id. at 360 (“Competition does not produce good results as predictably in politics as it does in economics.”).

 [98]. There is a wealth of scholarly and popular debate over direct democracy’s process and result quality. See, e.g., Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 5 (“[T]he accumulating effects of 25 years of initiatives . . . have so hamstrung both state and local governments that elected legislators, county supervisors and school board members have become the handmaidens, not the leaders, of policymaking in California. Because of it they’ve become increasingly unable (and sometimes unwilling) to set priorities and respond to problems when they occur.”); Cronin, supra note 5, at 60–62.

 [99]. R. Jeffrey Lustig, A People’s Convention for California, in Remaking California: Reclaiming the Public Good 195 (R. Jeffrey Lustig ed., 2010) (“In 1930 Governor Young was already complaining that initiative amendments had produced a constitution ‘bad in form, inconstant in particulars, loaded with unnecessary detail, encumbered with provisions of no permanent value, and replete with matter which might more properly be contained in the statute law of the state.’”).

 [100]. See, e.g., id. at 195 (“[The initiative’s] narrow, single-shot focus and insulation from information about their possible consequences at the drafting stage, initiatives are also most conducive to incoherence and disorganization in the political system as a whole.”); Jesse H. Choper, Judicial Review and the National Political Process 14–15 (Univ. of Chicago Press, 1980) (stating that studies show that “a distressingly large percentage of voters is almost totally uninformed” and many voters know little and care less about candidates and issues).

 [101]. See, e.g., Allswang, supra note 18, at 247 (“[I]nitiatives still present voters with a ‘take it or leave it’ situation, where there is no room for compromise.”).

 [102]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 12; Vermeule, supra note 17, at 80–81 (discussing “the deliberative virtues of forcing lawmaking to proceed through the hurdles of the legislative process”).

 [103]. Cooter, supra note 78, at 53 (discussing the Coase Theorem, which posits that bargaining tends to succeed as transaction costs approach zero).

 [104]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 6–7.

 [105]. Grodin, et al., supra note 26, at 16–19.

 [106]. Id. at 3.

 [107]. LeDuc, supra note 5, at 43.

 [108]. Mark Baldassare, Pub. Policy Inst. of Cal., Reforming California’s Initiative Process 5 (2013), http://www.ppic.org/content/pubs/atissue/AI_1013MBAI.pdf (finding consistently that approximately three-quarters of California voters find there are both too many propositions on the ballots and that proposition wording is too confusing, causing them to question what would happen if an initiative passed).

 [109]. See Just the Facts: The Initiative Process in California, Pub. Policy Inst. Cal. (Oct. 2013), https://www.ppic.org/publication/the-initiative-process-in-california.

 [110]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 179.

 [111]. Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 34–35.

 [112]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 187–90. One modern problem in particular, the influence of money on campaigns, has similar effects on outcomes in initiative campaigns as it does in representative and legislative issue elections. Id. at 190. See also Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 38; One Hundred and Twelfth Day, in 2 Debates and Proceedings of the Constitutional Convention of the State of California 1053, 1063 (Sacramento, J. D. Young, Supt. State Prtg. 1881) (statement of Mr. Hager) (“If we cannot trust the people themselves, how can we trust a Legislature elected by the people? Legislatures have disappointed the people, will the people prove unfaithful to themselves?”).

 [113]. See Cooter, supra note 78, at 145 (“A practical reason compels restricting each ballot initiative to a single issue. Logrolling, which combines issues in a single vote, requires bargaining. Bargaining among different groups requires representation. Ballot initiatives bypass elected representatives. Thus a multiple-purpose ballot initiative invites bargaining without bargaining agents.”). This argument, that multiple-issue voting inevitably fails, is true as far as it goes—it does not prevent competing propositions from qualifying for the ballot, but it may indicate that this feature of California direct democracy is a flaw that invites cycling.

 [114]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 74–75 tbls.4.2 & 4.3.

 [115]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 189 (assuming that people can evaluate both candidates and issues, the question is what set of institutions leads to the optimal outcomes representing the people’s consensus views); see also Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 34–35.

 [116]. See Allswang, supra note 18, at 239. One commentator argues that the ballot pamphlet is so important to the electorate’s thought process that judicial review should limit evidence of voter intent to the ballot pamphlet’s contents. Sutro, supra note 26, at 947, 968 (“Voter exposure to initiatives is limited solely to official materials presented in the ballot pamphlet, and judicial review should reflect this.”); see also Sutro, supra note 26 at 973 (“[T]he only reliable source for interpretation of initiative language, other than its common meaning, is the material presented to all voters in the voter pamphlet prior to the election.”).

 [117]. See Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 35–36.

 [118]. Id. at 37, 50–51 (discussing studies that show ballot propositions increase voter turnout especially in low-information election contexts, and so may motivate the population segment least likely to vote); LeDuc, supra note 5, at 151 (stating that voters can and do use various sources of information to learn what they need to know).

 [119]. See Cronin, supra note 5, at 85; see also Grant, supra note 74, at 140–41 (“[V]oters do have enough knowledge and judgment to detect attempts by business interests to use the initiative process to serve their own interests.”).

 [120]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 15. But see Cooter, supra note 78, at 144–45 (arguing that, although ballot initiatives cost more than legislative lobbying, California voters “apparently pursue the more costly alternative because they believe that ballot initiatives mostly create laws that the legislature would not enact”).

 [121]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 7 (arguing that voters can figure out how to vote their preferences and scholarly disagreement results from the true preferences of voters striking scholars as unpleasant, shortsighted, narrow, or all three); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 36 (noting Swiss cantons with initiatives show increased levels of participation); Mueller, supra note 3, at 189 (citing evidence that voter turnout is uniformly higher in elections with initiative measures on the ballot); Mueller, supra note 3, at 190 (finding the historical record suggests that voter initiatives are “useful addition” to democratic institutions in most countries where they exist); Mueller, supra note 3, at 191 n.13.

 [122]. See Mueller, supra note 3, at 95; see also Wright, supra note 12 (“The voter should remember that though the initiative and referendum may work satisfactorily in small communities, or in cities where the population is compact, it does not necessarily follow that it will be a success when applied to a commonwealth in which the interests are as varied and the population as large and the needs of the people as multifarious as they are in California”).

 [123]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 1–3; Wood, supra note 7, at 58 (“[T]he republican state necessarily had to be small in territory and generally similar in interests.”).

 [124]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 102.

 [125]. Id. at 97–98 (“Even in ancient Greece membership to the assembly had to be restricted once the size of the polity grew beyond these limits.”).

 [126]. See Wood, supra note 7, at 364–68; see also Zasloff, supra note 9, at 1122–23 (discussing how federal government was intentionally designed to eliminate direct democracy).

 [127]. John C. Yoo, Crisis and Command 29 (2009).

 [128]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 97–98 (“In Switzerland and some New England towns, direct democracy is practiced in communities of 10,000 or even 20,000 or more . . . but the most successful direct democracies are likely to be smaller communities.” (citation omitted)). In the modern era, popular assemblies have been used on a smaller scale (“a few hundred citizens”) in Japan, Poland, Iceland, Turkey, the former West Germany, England, and Wales. Mueller, supra note 3, at 100 n.5.

 [129]. Mueller, supra note 3, at 102.

 [130]. Cal. Dep’t of Fin., New State Population Report: California Grew by 335,000 Residents in 2016 1 (2016), http://www.dof.ca.gov/Forecasting/Demographics/Estimates/E-1
/documents/E-1_2017PressRelease.pdf; Cal. Sec’y of State, Statement of the Vote 1–3 (2016), http://elections.cdn.sos.ca.gov/sov/2016-general/sov/2016-complete-sov.pdf; see also The Council of State Gov’ts, The Book of the States, 346 tbl.6.8, 574 (2010) (providing figures for 2008 presidential election); Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 33–36; Mueller, supra note 3, at 97 (“[E]ven the smallest nation-states today are too large to make collective decisions using procedures in which citizens actively debate and decide issues in open meetings.”).

 [131]. For example, the “majority” that enacted the initiative measure Proposition 8 (banning same sex marriage) was only 7 million votes. That figure is only 41% of the state’s registered voters (17 million), 30% of eligible voters (23 million), and only 19% of the total state population (37 million). Statement of the Vote, supra note 130; see also Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 33–36; The Book of the States, supra note 130, at 346, 574 (figures for 2008 presidential election).

 [132]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 246.

 [133]. How to Qualify an Initiative, Cal. Sec’y State, http://www.sos.ca.gov/elections/ballot-measures/how-qualify-initiative (last visited Apr. 11, 2019).

 [134]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 8(b); Cal. Elec. Code § 9035 (West 2018); Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 76; see also Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 36 (“Wherever the initiative is in force, a new trade, that of getting signatures, develops.”); Grant, supra note 74, at 138–39; LeDuc, supra note 5, at 150 (describing the professional initiative industry).

 [135]. Ctr. for Governmental Stud., supra note 72, at 11 tbl.4, 15 tbl.6 (2nd ed., 2008); John Wildermuth, Costs Soar to Qualify Initiatives for Ballot, S.F. Chronicle (Jan. 2, 2019), https://www.sfchronicle.com/politics/article/Qualifying-a-California-ballot-measure-to-become-13501800.php.

 [136]. Cooter, supra note 78, at 144; see also David L. Callies, Nancy C. Neuffer & Carlito P. Caliboso, Ballot Box Zoning: Initiative, Referendum and the Law, 39 Wash. U. J. Urb. & Contemp. L. 53, 61–62 (1991).

In reality, however, the initiative process may not be a tool for the politically powerless, but a tool for the well-financed and politically connected. The cost, the time, and the energy required to place an initiative on the ballot are impractical for local grassroots movements. Petition circulation has become a multi-million dollar business in California, with costs per signature gathered for the 1990 campaign estimated at $1.21. Not surprisingly, the high cost of seeing an initiative to the ballot affects who sponsors initiatives. Well-financed individuals, lobbyists, and special interest groups proposed most of the initiatives for recent elections. Such a result is ironic, given the original goals of the initiative process.

Sutro, supra note 26, at 949–50 (footnotes omitted).

 [137]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 85, 109 (concluding that with a 25% success rate promoting “yes” campaigns compared to 75% success rate promoting “no” campaigns, Cronin concludes that “money counts the most” in opposing a ballot measure); see also Grant, supra note 74, at 140 (arguing while voters may simply vote “no” out of “cussedness,” high spending on the “no” side of an initiative heavily favors rejection).

 [138]. See Vermeule, supra note 17, at 170.

 [139]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 246.

 [140]. See id.; Matt Childers & Mike Binder, The Differential Effects of Initiatives and Referenda on Voter Turnout in the United States, 1890–2008, 19 Chapman L. Rev. 35, 41 (2016).

 [141]. See Childers & Binder, supra note 140.

 [142]. See Vermeule, supra note 17; Childers & Binder, supra note 140, at 35.

 [143]. See Cal. Const. art. II, § 10(a).

 [144]. See Jeremy B. White, Why Californians Have to Vote on 17 Ballot Measures, Sacramento Bee (Nov. 4, 2016, 04:14 PM), http://www.sacbee.com/news/politics-government/capitol-alert
/article112617278.html.

 [145]. See S.B. 202, 2011 Leg., Reg. Sess. (Cal. 2011).

 [146]. White, supra note 145.

 [147]. See generally Ned Augenblick & Scott Nicholson, Ballot Position, Choice Fatigue, and Voter Behavior, 83 Rev. Econ. Stud. 460 (Apr. 2016); Simon Hedlin, Do Long Ballots Offer Too Much Democracy?, Atlantic (Nov. 3, 2015), https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2015/11/long-ballots-democracy/413701.

 [148]. Augenblick & Nicholson, supra note 1478, at 478. We discuss S.B. 202’s other effects in Section IV.B. See also Helios Herrera & Andrea Mattozzi, Quorum and Turnout in Referenda, 8 J. European Econ. Ass’n. 838, 853 (2010). In a sense, consciously nonvoting citizens are by default encouraging an alternative de facto representative system, where the nonvoters are represented by the voting population. See Cronin, supra note 5, at 77. As with elected representatives, presumably the nonvoters are at least somewhat satisfied with the results, and the nonvoters always retain the option of flocking to the polls to elect different representatives or to vote for different propositions.

 [149]. See Allswang, supra note 18, at 246.

 [150]. Of the approximately 39.5 million people in California, 24.8 million are eligible to vote, 19.4 million are registered to vote, and 14.6 million voted in the November 2016 general election—considering that most initiatives pass with approximately 50% of the votes cast, that means that a majority of 7.3 million (or 18% of the state population) sets policy for the state. Statement of the Vote, supra note 130; see also Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 33–36; The Book of the States, supra note 130, at 346, 574 (figures for 2008 presidential election). But see Cooter, supra note 78, at 20 (arguing that economists find general voter participation rates to be surprisingly high: given the negligible probability that a single vote will change the outcome in a large election, the cost-benefit analysis for a self-interested citizen should result in the effort required to vote exceeding the expected benefit.).

 [151]. Proposition 42 in 2014 on public records and open meetings passed with approval from just 13.92% of registered voters. We calculated the final majority vote percentage from the official California Secretary of State registration and turnout figures. Cal. Sec’y of State, Historical Voter Registration and Participation in Statewide General Elections 1910–2016 (2016), http://elections.cdn.sos.ca.gov/sov/2016-general/sov/04-historical-voter-reg-participation.pdf.

 [152]. Note that this problem has been a known bug since Progressive times. Beard & Shultz, supra note 22, at 37–38. And those authors proposed a similar solution to ours. See id. at 41.

 [153]. “As of May 2018, 19 million of California’s 25.1 million eligible adults were registered to vote. At 75.7% of eligible adults, this is a slight increase from the registration rate in 2014 (73.3%), the year of the last gubernatorial election.” California’s Likely Voters, Pub. Policy Inst. Cal., http://www.ppic.org/publication/californias-likely-voters (last visited Apr. 11, 2019). Note that the number of registered voters (while remaining low) also remains consistent: “The share of eligible adults who are registered—currently 73%—has not varied much in recent years.” Voter Participation in California, Pub. Policy Inst. Cal., (analyzing turnout data 2000–2014), http://www.ppic.org
/publication/voter-participation-in-california (last visited Apr. 11, 2019); see also McGhee et al., Pub. Policy Inst. Cal., California’s Future: Political Landscape (2018), http://www.ppic.org/wp-content/uploads/r-118emr.pdf.

 [154]. See McGhee et al., supra note 153.

 [155]. As California Secretary of State voter data reveals, participation varies across election types. See supra Table 8.

 [156]. The data for these calculations (and those in Table 8) is derived from the California Secretary of State’s official participation and election summary data, see Cal. Sec’y of State, supra note 151.

 [157]. See supra Table 8 (California voter turnout by election type).

 [158]. See Abdurashid Solijonov, Voter Turnout Trends Around the World, Int’l Inst. Democracy & Electoral Assistance 8 (2016), https://www.idea.int/sites/default/files/publications/voter-turnout-trends-around-the-world.pdf; McGhee et al., supra note 153, at 2. As noted in the previous Section, we found no evidence that California’s low turnout rate is caused by the initiative’s existence. See supra Section III.D.

 [159]. Calculations derived from Cal. Sec’y of State, supra note 151.

 [160]. See McGhee et al., supra note 153, at 2. There are contrary findings. See, e.g., Allswang, supra note 18, at 145. But note that Allswang ultimately concurs with our point: “Not only is the number of people actually deciding these propositions quite small—it is also . . . hardly a representative cross-section. The wealthier, better-educated, older, and white vote in considerably larger numbers than the poor, ill-schooled, young, and minority group members.” Id. at 246.

 [161]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 76, tbl.4.4.

 [162]. Proposition 35 never took effect. See Doe v. Harris, 772 F.3d 563, 563 (9th Cir. 2014).

 [163]. Proposition 1A received 83.7% approval; Proposition 59 received 83.3% approval; Proposition 35 received 81.4% approval; and Proposition 58 received 73.5% approval. Calculations derived from Statewide Election Results, Cal. Sec’y State, https://www.sos.ca.gov/elections/prior-elections
/statewide-election-results (last visited Apr. 11, 2019) (using 1990–2016 results).

 [164]. Proposition 1A in 2004 received the highest percentage approval from eligible voters: 42.6%. Calculations derived from Statewide Election Results, supra note 163.

 [165]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 10(a).

 [166]. Out of 156 approved ballot propositions between 1990 and 2016, 37 failed to pass this majority threshold. See infra Table 10.

 [167]. The California Government Code requires quorum, “which is a majority of the five members,” “before the council has legal authority to act.” Malathy Subramanian, Voting Requirements: Absences, Vacancies, Abstentions, and Disqualifications 1 (2006) (citing Cal. Gov. Code § 36810 (West 2018)).

 [168]. See id. at 1 (citing People v. Harrington, 63 Cal. 257, 260 (1883) (“We . . . regard the law as well settled that . . . the action of a quorum is the action of the board, and that a majority of the quorum present could do any act which a majority of the board if present might do.”).

 [169]. See, e.g., Henry M. Robert, Roberts’ Rules of Order Newly Revised 347 (11th ed. 2011) (“In a committee of the whole or its variations, the quorum is the same as in the assembly unless the rules of the assembly or the organization (that is, either its bylaws or its rules of order) specify otherwise.”).

 [170]. See Cal. Civ. Code § 12 (West 2018); Cal. Civ. Code Pro. § 15 (West 2018).

 [171]. See, e.g., Cal. Gov. Code § 36810 (West 2018).

 [172]. See Elliot Bulmer, Int’l Inst. for Democracy & Electoral Assistance, Direct Democracy 17­–18 (2014), https://www.idea.int/sites/default/files/publications/direct-democracy-primer.pdf.

 [173]. Luís Aguiar-Conraria & Pedro C. Magalhães, Referendum Design, Quorum Rules and Turnout, 144 Pub. Choice 63, 64–65 (2010).

 [174]. Herrera & Mattozzi, supra note 148, at 858.

 [175]. Id.

 [176]. Id. at 839.

 [177]. See id. at 858.

 [178]. See Baldassare, supra note 108.

 [179]. For average abstention rates, see supra Table 9.

 [180]. Studies have shown that the longer the ballot, the more voter choices deviate from their expressed ideology. See Peter Selb, Supersized Votes: Ballot Length, Uncertainty, and Choice in Direct Legislation Elections, 135 Pub. Choice 319, 332 (2008).

 [181]. S.B. 202 limits ballot propositions to general elections.

 [182]. See Let the People Fail to Decide, Economist (May 19, 2016), https://www.economist.com
/leaders/2016/05/19/let-the-people-fail-to-decide (“These dangers can be mitigated. Requiring minimum turnouts can guard against the tyranny of the few. Italy’s 50% threshold is about right.”).

 [183]. See Baldassare, supra note 108, at 8–9.

 [184]. Williams, supra note 3, at 225.

 [185]. See Wood, supra note 7, at 21.

 [186]. Rossi v. Brown, 889 P.2d 557, 560–61 (Cal. 1995).

 [187]. See Williams, supra note 3, at 225.

 [188]. We noted elsewhere that there are difficult questions at the outer limits of this principle: “[A]lthough the provisions of the constitution are binding on future legislatures and electorates alike, the electorate cannot restrict its own future initiative power through the initiative process.” Carrillo, supra note 13, at 746; see also County of Los Angeles v. State, 729 P.2d 202, 209 n.9 (Cal. 1987) (“Whether a constitutional provision which requires a supermajority vote to enact substantive legislation, as opposed to funding the program, may be validly enacted as a Constitutional amendment rather than through revision of the Constitution is an open question.” (citing Amador Valley Joint Union High Sch. Dist. v. State Bd. of Equalization, 583 P.2d 1281, 1289 (Cal. 1978))).

 [189]. Prof’l Eng’rs in Cal. Gov’t v. Kempton, 155 P.3d 226, 239–40 (Cal. 2007) (citing Cal. Const. art. IV, § 1).

 [190]. Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 13.

 [191]. See Carrillo, supra note 13, at 731.

 [192]. See Choper, supra note 100, at 64–65.

 [193]. See Cooter, supra note 78, at 146–47. Another response to the pro-majoritarian criticism is Professor Cooter’s argument that direct democracy factors issues, which does not necessarily harm minorities more than the spliced voting that would occur in the legislature. In factored voting, the minority on one dimension of choice is not necessarily the same group across all issues, with the result that any one person may win on some issues and lose on others. Thus, only some minorities will lose, and only sometimes; under those conditions, majorities will not exploit minorities more under direct than under indirect democracy. Cooter, supra note 78, at 146.

 [194]. Frank Clifford, Voters Repudiate 3 of Court’s Liberal Justices, L.A. Times (Nov. 5, 1986), https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1986-11-05-mn-15232-story.html (detailing voters’ rejection of California Supreme Court Chief Justice Rose Bird and Justices Joseph Grodin and Cruz Reynoso, who were on the November 1986 general election ballot for retention). Scholars debate how strictly courts should review electorate acts. In his seminal article on that subject, Professor Eule argued that courts should scrutinize plebiscites more aggressively than legislative acts. Julian Eule, Judicial Review of Direct Democracy, 99 Yale L.J. 1503 passim (1990). But he cautioned that not only are his arguments inapplicable to the states, states (like California) whose constitutions give the voters direct lawmaking power are the strongest case for greater judicial deference to electorate acts. Id. at 1547–48.

 [195]. In this Section, we briefly explain several procedural constraints and substantive rules that California courts have developed to define and limit the process of constitutional change and regulate the exercise of the electorate’s power. We note, but do not discuss, the various procedural issues that commonly arise, related to such things as signature gathering, title, and summary.

 [196]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 8(d).

  [197]. Senate of Cal. v. Jones, 988 P.2d 1089, 1098 (Cal. 1999); Sutro, supra note 26, at 961–62.

The primary purpose of the legislative single-subject rule is recognized as the prevention of log-rolling, the practice of several minorities combining their legislative proposals as different provisions of a single bill and thus consolidating their votes so that a majority is obtained. Additional purposes of the legislative single-subject rule are the preservation of an orderly legislative process and the prevention of deception of the legislature and the public. Single-subject legislation promotes clarity in the legislative process and ensures there will be little confusion due to multi-subject bills.

Sutro, supra note 26, at 961–62 (quotations and footnotes omitted); see also Steven W. Ray, The California Initiative Process: The Demise of the Single-Subject Rule, 14 Pac. L.J. 1095, 1096–98 (1983).

 [198]. Jones, 988 P.2d at 1098; Sutro, supra note 26, at 963–64.

 [199]. Jones, 988 P.2d at 1098–99 (quoting Brosnahan v. Brown, 651 P.2d 274, 284 (Cal. 1982)).

 [200]. Briggs v. Brown, 400 P.3d 29, 38 (Cal. 2017) (quoting Californians for an Open Primary v. McPherson, 134 P.3d 299, 318 (Cal. 2006)); see also Perry v. Jordan, 207 P.2d 47, 50 (Cal. 1949); Evans v. Super. Ct., 8 P.2d 467, 469 (Cal. 1932).

 [201]. Briggs, 400 P.3d at 38 (emphasis added) (internal quotation marks omitted) (citations omitted).

 [202]. Brown v. Super. Ct., 371 P.3d 223, 232 (Cal. 2016) (ellipsis omitted) (quoting Legislature v. Eu, 816 P.2d, 1309, 1321 (Cal. 1991)). The California Supreme Court interprets legislative and initiative acts with the same test. The cardinal rule of statutory interpretation in California is that the statute is to be construed so as to give effect to the intent of the lawmakers. Mercer v. Perez, 436 P.2d 315, 320 (Cal. 1968). In construing constitutional and statutory provisions, “whether enacted by the legislature or by initiative, the intent of the enacting body is the paramount consideration.” In re Lance W., 694 P.2d 744, 754 (Cal. 1985).

 [203]. Jones, 988 P.2d at 1098.

 [204]. Manduley v. Super. Ct., 41 P.3d 3, 28–29 (Cal. 2002) (quoting Jones, 988 P.2d at 1162).

 [205]. Grodin et al., supra note 26, at 70 (calling the single-subject rule “a toothless tiger”); see also Ray, supra note 197, at 1096 (“[T]he court should adopt a stricter interpretation of the single-subject rule where initiatives are concerned to prevent those proposals from ever being presented to the electorate.”). See generally Robert D. Cooter & Michael D. Gilbert, A Theory of Direct Democracy and the Single-Subject Rule, 110 Colum. L. Rev. 687 (2010) (proposing a democratic process theory of the single-subject rule).

 [206]. Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1207 (internal quotation marks omitted).

 [207]. Two commentators argue that the distinctions between legislative and initiative acts require distinct single-subject rules. Ray, supra note 197, at 1101 (“The two processes here in question, the initiative and the legislative, are not the same. In fact, the vast differences between the two compel a change in the current application of the single-subject rule to initiatives.”); Sutro, supra note 26, at 966 (using canons to interpret initiatives wrongly assumes voter knowledge of existing law and an intent for uniformity and consistency, ignoring limited voter knowledge).

 [208]. Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48, 86 n.19 (Cal. 2009) (noting that when McFadden was decided, there was no California constitutional provision applying the single-subject rule to initiative measures).

 [209]. Cal. Const. art. IV, § 12(d).

 [210]. Cal. Elec. Code §§ 9001–02 (West 2018).

 [211]. Id. § 9004.

 [212]. See Strauss, 207 P.3d at 132.

 [213]. See id. at 61.

 [214]. Id. at 97 (quoting Raven v. Deukmejian, 801 P.2d 1077, 1085 (Cal. 1990).

 [215]. Legislature v. Eu, 816 P.2d 1309, 1340 (Cal. 1991) (alterations in original) (quoting Livermore v. Waite, 36 P. 424, 426 (Cal. 1894)).

 [216]. An initiative constitutional amendment may be placed on the ballot after collecting a number of elector signatures equal to 8% of the votes for all candidates for Governor in the last gubernatorial election. Cal. Const. art. XVIII, § 8(b). By contrast, only the state legislature is empowered to propose revisions. Id. § 1 (“The Legislature . . . may propose an amendment or revision of the Constitution . . . .”); id. § 2 (“The Legislature . . . may submit at a general election the question whether to call a convention to revise the Constitution.”); id. § 4 (“A proposed amendment or revision shall be submitted to the electors . . . .”).

 [217]. Cal. Const. art. XVIII.

 [218]. See Carrillo, supra note 13, at 738–40.

 [219]. Id. at 740.

 [220]. The authors have explored Strauss’ revision–amendment analysis in a related context. See David A. Carrillo & Stephen M. Duvernay, California Constitutional Law: The Guarantee Clause and California’s Republican Form of Government, 62 UCLA. L. Rev. Disc. 103, 120–22 (2014).

 [221]. Carrillo, supra note 13, at 738–40.

 [222]. See id. at 733 n.4 (identifying Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Ass’n v. Padilla, 363 P.3d 628 (Cal. 2016); Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48 (Cal. 2009); Legislature v. Eu, 816 P.2d 1309 (Cal. 1991); Raven v. Deukmejian, 801 P.2d 1077 (Cal. 1990), as four cases where an initiative measure has created a separation-of-powers issue).

 [223]. The authors advanced this proposal in a recent law review article. See Carrillo, supra note 13, at 751–64. For another perspective, see Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1203–06 (arguing that the initiative does not invade the legislature’s core powers).

 [224]. Carrillo, supra note 13, at 751. For much the same reasons, the state’s separation-of-powers doctrine differs from its federal analogue. See Carrillo & Chou, supra note 85, at 665–73 (discussing the differences between the separation of powers doctrines embodied in the California and federal Constitutions); see also Marine Forests Soc’y v. Cal. Coastal Comm’n, 113 P.3d 1062, 1076–78 (Cal. 2005).

 [225]. Carrillo & Chou, supra note 85, at 678–79. Put another way, “the state constitution vests each branch with certain core powers that cannot be usurped by another branch.” Id. at 679.

 [226]. Carmel Valley Fire Prot. Dist. v. State, 20 P.3d 533, 538 (Cal. 2001) (quoting Kasler v. Lockyer, 2 P.3d 581, 594 (Cal. 2000)).

 [227]. Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Ass’n v. Padilla, 363 P.3d 628, 634 (Cal. 2016) (quoting Marine Forests Soc’y, 113 P.3d at 1087).

 [228]. Younger v. Super. Ct., 577 P.2d 1014, 1024 (Cal. 1978) (emphasis in original) (citing Parker v. Riley, 113 P.2d 873, 873 (Cal. 1941)).

 [229]. Carmel Valley, 20 P.3d at 538 (internal quotation marks omitted).

 [230]. Carrillo, supra note 13, at 738–40.

 [231]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 119 (“[T]he primary effect of the initiative is power transfer from both branches of government to the median voter.”); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 116–17 (“The evidence indicates that direct democracy brings about material changes in the functioning of the executive branch”); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 118–19 (discussing how “some practical considerations suggest that the governor will usually benefit” from direct democracy by allowing the governor to take proposals directly to the voters).

 [232]. Id. at 118 (“[I]t is clear that the voter is never worse off when the initiative is available.”); id. at 119 (“The political actor that always wins (never loses) from having the initiative available is the median voter.”).

 [233]. See, e.g., Myers v. English, 9 Cal. 341, 349 (1858).

 [234]. Briggs v. Brown, 400 P.3d 29, 50–61 (Cal. 2017) (analyzing separation-of-powers issues created by the passage of Proposition 66, the Death Penalty Reform and Savings Act of 2016).

 [235]. Id.; see also Carrillo, supra note 13; Carrillo & Chou, supra note 85.

 [236]. Wood, supra note 7, at 20; see also Cooter, supra note 78, at 245 (stating that the purpose of individual rights is to provide the legal basis of autonomy).

 [237]. Zasloff, supra note 9, at 1125.

 [238]. Steiner, supra note 3, at 86. One California study showed that “[o]n . . . minority-targeted initiatives, Latinos consistently lose out,” and that “Latinos, indeed, have much to worry about when issues that target their rights are decided via direct democracy.” Zoltan Hajnal et al., Minorities and Direct Legislation: Evidence from California Ballot Proposition Elections, 64 J. Pol. 154, 171 (2002); see also Zoltan Hajnal & Hugh Louch, Pub. Pol’y Inst. of Cal., Are There Winners and Losers? Race, Ethnicity, and California’s Initiative Process (2001). A nationwide study concluded that initiatives to restrict civil rights pass more regularly than other types of initiatives. Barbara S. Gamble, Putting Civil Rights to a Popular Vote, 41 Am. J. Pol. Sci. 245 passim (1997); LeDuc, supra note 5, at 41; Steiner, supra note 3, at 86 (noting the “substantial body of academic literature offering cautions about California’s practice of ballot propositions” based on initiatives being used by powerful special interest groups to capture the powers of the state in self-interested ways, and to threaten the civil rights of vulnerable minorities or exploit and increase racial or ethnic tensions) (citing David S. Broder, Democracy Derailed: Initiative Campaigns and the Power of Money 43 (2000); Ian Budge, The New Challenge of Direct Democracy (1996); Richard J. Ellis, Democratic Delusions: The Initiative Process in America 77 (2002); John Haskell, Direct Democracy or Representative Government? (2001); Bruce A. Larson, Dangerous Democracy (Larry J. Sabato, Bruce A. Larson & Howard R. Ernst eds., 2001); Giovanni Sartori, The Theory of Democracy Revisited (1987); Peter Schrag, Paradise Lost: California’s Experience, America’s Future (1998)).

 [239]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 98 (“If we are to give occasional free rein to majority rule at the ballot box, we shall have to give additional consideration to protecting the rights of minorities.”); LeDuc, supra note 5, at 151 (using the initiative to target vulnerable minorities is a modern example of Madison’s tyranny of the majority).

 [240]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 119, 139 (“The evidence is fairly strong that the initiative does in fact bring about policies favored by the majority.”); Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 147 (“The initiative works as a form of veto point, forcing policy to the position of the median voter on each dimension, and preventing the construction of logrolling coalitions that can challenge the status quo.”).

 [241]. Bruce E. Cain, Constitutional Revision in California, in State Constitutions for the Twenty-First Century 69 (G. Alan Tarr & Robert F. Williams eds., State Univ. of N.Y. Press 2006) (“[T]he eighteenth-century concept of a constitution that balances the rights of the minority against those of the majority simply makes no sense at the state level. Measures that would protect or favor a minority against the majority’s will cannot make it through the constitutional approval process.”).

 [242]. Bowler & Glazer, supra note 5, at 139. Similar to the current slow rate of adoption of individual rights for same sex persons as a group, Switzerland denied suffrage to women until 1972; in non-initiative systems, the franchise could be extended in a legislative solution as part of a broader political compromise, while in the initiative system, the change required approval from a majority of male voters to reduce their political power by expanding the electorate. The result is similar to the low rate of adoption of legislative term limits in non-initiative states in America, as both situations are governed by the principle that interest groups rarely vote to reduce their power voluntarily.

 [243]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 90–91.

 [244]. See generally, e.g., Boumediene v. Bush, 553 U.S. 723 (2008); Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, 548 U.S. 557 (2006); Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, 542 U.S. 507 (2004); Rasul v. Bush, 542 U.S. 466 (2004); Korematsu v. U.S., 323 U.S. 214 (1944).

 [245]. See generally, e.g., Korematsu, 323 U.S. at 214; Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 U.S. 537 (1896); Dred Scott v. Sandford, 60 U.S. 393 (1856).

 [246]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 91–92 (collecting examples).

 [247]. LeDuc, supra note 5, at 41, 150–51; Callies et al., supra note 136, at 94–97; Julia Anne Guizan, Is the California Civil Rights Initiative a Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing? Distinguishing Constitutional Amendment from Revision in California’s Initiative Process, 31 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 261 passim (1997).

 [248]. See, e.g., Seventy-Third Day, in 1 Debates and Proceedings of the Constitutional Convention of the State of California 627 et seq. (Sacramento, J. D. Young, Supt. State Prtg. 1881) and Seventy-Seventh Day, in 2 Debates and Proceedings of the Constitutional Convention of the State of California 700 et seq. (Sacramento, J. D. Young, Supt. State Prtg. 1881) (anti-coolie provision); Seventy-Seventh Day, supra, at 801 (English-only provision); David A. Kaiser & David A. Carrillo, California Constitutional Law: Reanimating Criminal Procedural Rights After The “Other” Proposition 8, 56 Santa Clara L. Rev. 33 (2016); Proposition 1, Alien Land Law (Cal. 1920), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/130 (anti-Japanese initiative amending state’s alien land law); Proposition 14, Right to Decline to Sell or Rent Residential Real Estate (Cal. 1964), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/672 (initiative amendment overturning statute prohibiting racial discrimination in housing), invalidated by Reitman v. Mulkey, 387 U.S. 369, 375–76 (1967); Proposition 63, English Is the Official Language Amendment (Cal. 1986), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/968 (enacted at Cal. Const. art. IV, § VI) (initiative amendment making English official state language); Proposition 187, Illegal Aliens Ineligibile for Public Benefits (Cal. 1994), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1104 (initiative amendment denying public benefits to illegal immigrants); Proposition 209, California Affirmative Action (1996), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1129 (enacted at Cal. Const. art. 1, § XXXI) (initiative amendment prohibiting affirmative action); Proposition 227, “English Language in Public Schools” Initiative (Cal. 1998), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1151(1998 initiative statute enforcing English-only education); Proposition 8, “Eliminates Right of Same-Sex Couples to Marry” Initiative (Cal. 2008), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1288 (2008 initiative amendment restricting marriage to opposite-sex couples, invalidated by Hollingsworth v. Perry, 570 U.S. 693, 693 (2013). But see Proposition 6, the Briggs Initiative (Cal. 1978), http://repository.uchastings.edu
/ca_ballot_props/838 (rejected initiative limiting gay teachers’ rights); Proposition 64, Mandatory Reporting of AIDS (Cal. 1986), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/969 (rejected initiative permitting quarantine of AIDS patients). Of course, discriminatory state governmental actions are not limited to the electorate. See Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 22; Lustig, supra note 99, at 9 (noting that some 1849 delegates wanted California to be a “white man’s republic,” that the state denied Native Americans, blacks, and Chinese the right to vote, testify, or serve on a jury, and that California did not ratify the Fifteenth Amendment until 1962).

 [249]. Cal. Const. art. I, § 7(a) (providing that “[a] person may not be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law or denied equal protection of the laws.”).

 [250]. In re Marriage Cases, 183 P.3d 384 (Cal. 2008).

 [251]. Proposition 8, “Eliminates Right of Same-Sex Couples to Marry” Initiative (Cal. 2008), https://repository.uchastings.edu/ca_ballot_props/1288, invalidated by Hollingsworth v. Perry, 570 U.S. 693, 693 (2013) (invalidating an initiative measure approved by a majority of voters at the November 4, 2008 election that added a new section—section 7.5—to California constitution article I: “Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.”).

 [252]. Obergefell v. Hodges, 135 S. Ct. 2584, 2588 (2015) (holding that the right of same-sex couples to marry is protected by the Due Process and Equal Protection Clauses of the U.S. Constitution’s Fourteenth Amendment); Hollingsworth v. Perry, 570 U.S. 693 (2013); Perry v. Brown, 671 F.3d 1052, 1095 (9th Cir. 2012) (holding that Proposition 8 violated Equal Protection Clause); Strauss v. Horton, 207 P.3d 48 (Cal. 2009) (rejecting argument that Proposition 8 violated constitutional guarantee of equal protection).

 [253]. Cal. Const. art. II, § 10(d); Cal. Elec. Code § 9002 (West 2018) (“The duty of the Attorney General to prepare title and summary for a proposed initiative measure is a ministerial one, and, . . . mandate will lie to compel him to act when the proposal is in proper form and complies with statutory and constitutional procedural requirements.”); Schmitz v. Younger, 577 P.2d 652, 653 (Cal. 1978) (“[W]ithout prior judicial authorization [the Attorney General] may not delay or impede the initiative process while claims of the measure’s invalidity are determined.”).

 [254]. Brosnahan v. Eu, 641 P.2d 200, 201 (Cal. 1982).

 [255]. Am. Fed’n of Labor v. Eu, 686 P.2d 609, 615 (Cal. 1984).

 [256]. Id. at 614 (quoting Legislature v. Deukmejian, 669 P.2d 17, 21 (Cal. 1983)). There is some tension on whether the electorate’s “power” in this regard refers only to their procedural power, not to their ability to enact laws that substantively violate the constitution. As Justice Mosk explained in his concurring and dissenting opinion in Brosnahan:

The principle is firmly established that unless it is clear that a proposed initiative is unconstitutional, the courts should not interfere with the right of the people to vote on the measure. In the service of this precept, courts have frequently declined to strike an initiative from the ballot despite a claim that its adoption would be a futile act because the measure offends the Constitution. . . . But this rule applies only to the contention that an initiative is unconstitutional because of its substance. If it is determined that the electorate does not have the power to adopt the proposal in the first instance or that it fails to comply with the procedures required by law to qualify for the ballot, the measure must be excluded from the ballot.

Brosnahan, 641 P.2d at 202–03 (Mosk, J., concurring and dissenting). The Court held a similar line in Legislature v. Deukmejian, where it allowed a pre-election challenge that “[went] to the power of the electorate to adopt the proposal in the first instance. This challenge does not require even a cursory examination of the substance of the initiative itself. The question raised is, in a sense, jurisdictional.” Legislature v. Deukmejian, 669 P.2d 17, 21 (Cal. 1983). There is little reason to doubt that the Court would reach the same conclusion, however, when considering an initiative that clearly violates enumerated constitutional rights. The underlying rationale for permitting pre-election review of an invalid initiative applies with equal force in such circumstances. “The presence of an invalid measure on the ballot steals attention, time and money from the numerous valid propositions on the same ballot. It will confuse some voters and frustrate others, and an ultimate decision that the measure is invalid, coming after the voters have voted in favor of the measure, tends to denigrate the legitimate use of the initiative procedure.” Am. Fed’n of Labor, 686 P.2d at 615.

 [257]. See Younger, P.2d at 653.

 [258]. Am. Fed’n of Labor, 686 P.2d 611, 629; see also Planning & Conservation League v. Padilla, No. S249859, 2018 Cal. LEXIS 6817, *1–2 (2018).

 [259]. See, e.g., Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Ass’n. v. Padilla, 363 P.3d 628, 631 (Cal. 2016).

In response to a petition for writ of mandate urging the unconstitutionality of the Legislature’s action, we issued an order to show cause and directed the Secretary of State to refrain from taking further action in connection with placement of Proposition 49 on the ballot. Our action did not rest on a final determination of Proposition 49’s lawfulness. Instead, we concluded “the proposition’s validity is uncertain” and the balance of hardships from permitting an invalid measure to remain on the ballot, as against delaying a proposition to a future election, weighed in favor of immediate relief.

Id.

 [260]. Memorandum of Points and Authorities in Support of Request for Entry of Default Judgement at Ex. A, Harris v. McLaughlin, No. 34-2015-00176996 (Super. Ct. Feb. 24, 2015). Further background on this issue can be found in an unpublished appeal from a related lawsuit filed by the proponent. McLaughlin v. Becerra, No. B280529, 2018 Cal. App. Unpub. LEXIS 739 (2018) (appeal from Los Angeles City Super. Ct. Case No. BC622687).

 [261]. Memorandum of Points and Authorities in Support of Request for Entry of Default Judgement ¶¶ 13–15, Harris v. McLaughlin, No. 34-2015-00176996 (Super. Ct. June 16, 2015).

 [262]. Default Judgment by Court in Favor of Plaintiff, Harris v. McLaughlin, No. 34-2015-00176996 (Super. Ct. June 22, 2015).

 [263]. Planning & Conservation League, 2018 Cal. LEXIS 6817.

 [264]. Planning & Conservation League v. Padilla, No. S249859, 2018 Cal. LEXIS 5200, at *1–2. The court explained its rationale:

Although our past decisions establish that it is usually more appropriate to review challenges to ballot propositions or initiative measures after an election, we have also made clear that in some instances, when a substantial question has been raised regarding the proposition’s validity and the “hardships from permitting an invalid measure to remain on the ballot” outweigh the harm potentially posed by “delaying a proposition to a future election,” it may be appropriate to review a proposed measure before it is placed on the ballot.

Id. (citations omitted).

 [265]. This is not a universally-held view. See, e.g., Lustig, supra note 99, at 65–69, 72.

The initiative theoretically counteracts the federalist model and is a majoritarian tool. . . . One can certainly make the argument that supermajority requirements and the stripping of legislative discretion over spending and taxing are good things in the abstract, but it is difficult to see how those have been good for California in practice. In fact, initiative governance has caused legislative failure on many issues facing the state.

Id.

 [266]. Fuller, supra note 83. This is the relative size of the California economy according to the California Department of Finance and the Bureau of Economic Analysis at the U.S. Department of Commerce as of May 4, 2018. See Gross State Product, Cal. Dep’t. Finance, http://www.dof.ca.gov/Forecasting/Economics/Indicators/Gross_State_Product (last visited Apr. 13, 2019); GDP and Personal Data, Bureau Econ. Analysis, https://apps.bea.gov/iTable/iTable.cfm?0
=1200&isuri=1&reqid=70&step=10&1=1&2=200&3=sic&4=1&5=xx&6=-1&7=-1&8=-1&9=70&10
=levels#reqid=70&step=10&isuri=1&7003=200&7004=naics&7035=-1&7005=1&7006=xx&7001
=1200&7036=-1&7002=1&7090=70&7007=-1&7093=levels (last visited Apr. 13, 2019).

 [267]. Sheila James Kuehl, Either Way You Get Sausages: One Legislator’s View of the Initiative Process, 31 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 1327, 1329–30 (1998).

Californians love their initiatives. They do not like reading the long ones. They do not like it when the courts strike them down for their constitutional defects. They do not like finding out later that they were wrong or misled about the contents. But generally, the people of California jealously guard their ability to make and shape the law independent of the legislature. For the most part, the people feel excluded from the long and arduous process of legislation. They read about the new laws on January 1 of each year and shake their heads or wonder at the omissions. The initiative process provides the people with a way to remedy the paralysis and inaction they perceive in the legislature.

Id. (footnotes omitted).

 [268]. Allswang, supra note 18, at 245; Baldassare & Katz, supra note 5, at 23, 31, 217, tbl.1.2; Cronin, supra note 5, at 78–80 and tbls.4.5 & 4.6, 199, 234 tbl.9.3; Ctr. for Governmental Stud., supra note 72, at 17–27; Grant, supra note 74, at 139; Gordon, supra note 5, at 1.

 [269]. Cronin, supra note 5, at 232 (“Initiatives and referenda are here to stay.”); Cain, supra note 242, at 69 (“[T]o change the initiative process, one would have to ask the voters whom the process has served well to give up their control over policy outcomes. This is unlikely to happen.”); Manheim & Howard, supra note 2, at 1237 (“[O]ne wonders at this point whether Californians would ever accept a government as legitimate if it did not provide for some form of direct democracy.”).

 

Justice or Just Us?: SFFA v. Harvard and Asian Americans in Affirmative Action – Note by Cynthia Chiu

From Volume 92, Number 2 (January 2019)
DOWNLOAD PDF


 

Justice or Just Us?:
SFFA v. Harvard and Asian Americans in Affirmative Action

Cynthia Chiu[*]

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I. The Current Affirmative Action STANDARD

II. The Role of Asian Americans in
Affirmative Action

A. History of Asian Americans and Affirmative Action

B. A History of Discrimination Against Asian Americans

C. The Racial Bourgeoisie

III. STUDENTS FOR FAIR ADMISSIONS V. HARVARD

A. The Procedural History and Current Status of
SFFA v. Harvard

B. SFFA’s Arguments

1. Count I: Harvard Intentionally Discriminates Against
Asian Americans

2. Count II: Harvard Engages in Racial Balancing

3. Count III: Harvard Considers Race as More than Just
a “Plus Factor”

4. Count V: Harvard Has Failed to Show There Are
no Workable Race-Neutral Alternatives

D. Criticisms of SFFA’s Arguments

1. The Arguments in the Complaint Are Flawed

2. Logical Fallacies

IV. Asian Americans and Affirmative Action
in the Future

A. Diversity Re-Evaluated

B. Unity with Other Minorities

Conclusion

 

INTRODUCTION

Here is what I sometimes suspect my face signifies to other Americans: an invisible person, barely distinguishable from a mass of faces that resemble it. A conspicuous person standing apart from the crowd and yet devoid of any individuality. An icon of so much that the culture pretends to honor but that it in fact patronizes and exploits. Not just people “who are good at math” and play the violin, but a mass of stifled, repressed, abused, conformist quasi-robots who simply do not matter, socially or culturally.[1]

I can recall excitedly filling out my college applications in the fall of 2010. I can recall writing my application essay about my experience at a private, all-girls Catholic high school. I can recall being told to volunteer more and to join speech and debate. I can recall being told that playing four years of varsity tennis would make me appear more well-rounded. I can recall being told to not check the “Asian” box when the application asked for my ethnicity. At eighteen years old, this sounds like being told it is better to be anything besides exactly who you are. I can recall feeling that it was not enough to be the daughter of a first-generation immigrant from China and the granddaughter of Japanese American citizens interned during World War II.[2] The appropriate box for me was apparently “Other.”[3]

This revelation about my own experience was necessary to understand the frustration felt by the Asian American community regarding college admissions. While this frustration may be well-founded, the Asian American community is not unified on what the appropriate reaction to it should be. On one hand, the model minority myth[4] perpetuates a stereotype that portrays Asian Americans as successful. But on the other hand, Asian Americans feel wide-spread discrimination that goes unrecognized due to an image of them as achievers of the “American Dream.” This places Asian Americans in a precarious middle ground as a “racial bourgeoisie”[5]stuck between being viewed as “superior” but feeling inferior. Asian Americans should be cautioned, though, that serving in this racial middle ground runs the risk of “reinforc[ing] white supremacy if the middle deludes itself into thinking it can be just like white if it tries hard enough.”[6] Asian Americans have long been left out of the whiteblack affirmative action debate, and this opportunity to speak out should not be tarnished by being used as a tool to further white images at elite universities.

This Note examines the arguments made in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard College, which allege that Harvard’s consideration of race is a violation of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 because it is not narrowly tailored to a compelling interest of diversity.[7] The complaint filed by Students for Fair Admissions (“SFFA”)[8] came off the back of Justice Alito’s comments in his dissent in Fisher v. University of Texas at Austin (Fisher II), which proposed the possibility that Asian Americans may face discrimination in admissions.[9] While this was an important inclusion of Asian Americans in the discussion, Justice Alito’s comments in Fisher II perpetuated the logical fallacy that Asian Americans[10] are losing admission spots to African Americans and Hispanic Americans due to affirmative action, and may have encouraged the initiation of SFFA’s action against Harvard College. However, while the frustration experienced by many in the Asian American community over what feels like racial ceilings on Asian American admissions at elite universities is valid, these ceilings are the result of negative action aimed against Asian Americans, not the result of affirmative action. Prohibiting universities from considering race as part of a holistic admissions process will not eliminate the negative action felt by Asian Americans.

SFFA’s use of Asian Americans to target affirmative action is a parallel to the double movement that occurred in the nineteenth century. While there was a movement toward inclusion based on increased egalitarianism among white males to reduce barriers based on wealth and property ownership, there was also a movement toward exclusion of African Americans, women, Native Americans, and non-white immigrants.[11] SFFA and the organization’s creator, Edward Blum, move to include Asian Americans as part of the group deemed worthy enough to “earn” spots at elite universities only to maintain the dominance needed to continue to exclude other groups. The status that is ascribed to different groups comes with a series of stereotypes and associations that the larger, dominant group naturalizes to determine whether the group is eligible for certain benefits, like admission to elite universities.[12] Asian Americans should be wary about their sudden inclusion in this larger group, when they had for so long been denied eligibility for status as citizens and still continue to be given the stereotype of “perpetual foreigner.”[13] Similar to the poor white males of the nineteenth century, the inclusion of Asian Americans could simply be used to maintain the dominance of wealthy white[14] males and to perpetuate a “white image” in elite universities.

Part I of this Note examines the current standard of affirmative action: that the only acceptable justification for race-conscious admissions policies is one of educational diversity. Part II discusses the role of Asian Americans in the affirmative action discussion, with an understanding that Asian Americans have been subject to unrecognized historical discrimination and treated as a “racial bourgeoisie”[15] due to perpetuation of the model minority myth. Part III describes the background and status of SFFA v. Harvard, analyzes the complaint’s arguments, including those made at trial, and criticizes the bases for the complaint. Part IV suggests that the future role of Asian Americans in the affirmative action discussion is one of increased political activeness and unity and argues for a change in the way elite universities value Asian American diversity when assessing applicants in a holistic process.

I.  The Current Affirmative Action STANDARD

All racial classifications are subject to strict scrutiny, even where the classification is non-invidious as it is for affirmative action. This requires the means to be narrowly tailored to a compelling government interest.[16] For affirmative action, Regents of the University of California v. Bakke established that diversity, through its educational benefits, is a compelling state interest under strict scrutiny analysis.[17] Diversity was originally conceived as simply racial diversity; however, Justice Powell’s majority opinion in Bakke advocates for a diversity that goes beyond race to include diversity of ideas, opinions, and backgrounds in order to improve the educational experience.[18] The Court explicitly bans the use of a quota system where race is used as a dispositive factor in admissions, but it permits race to be used as one of many factors in the diversity consideration.[19] There is a clear rejection of race being used as a permissible factor in admissions as a means to remedy past discrimination; instead, the Court focuses on the instrumental justification, which states that race can provide educational benefits by accepting candidates with diverse experiences. Justice Powell specifically cites to Harvard’s admissions policy, which uses race as one of many “plus factors, in a holistic consideration of an applicant, as a permissible example of a policy that would allow an institution to maintain freedom in its academic goals.[20]

Justice Powell’s opinion in Bakke created the blueprint for the Court in Grutter v. Bollinger to firmly establish that diversity is the only justification for race-conscious admissions policies that would satisfy strict scrutiny.[21] The Court continued to recognize that there were educational benefits[22] from diversity that could satisfy a compelling government interest.[23] Grutter determined that admissions policies seeking to obtain a “critical mass” of diverse students were not a violation of the prohibitions against racial balancing and proportional representation.[24] Critical mass does not refer to a specific quota or percentage, but refers to “meaningful numbers” sufficient to “encourage[] underrepresented minority students to participate in the classroom and not feel isolated.[25] The Court gives institutions of higher education deference in deciding whether they need diversity to pursue their educational mission.[26] Once the university determines diversity to be one of its educational goals, a race-conscious admissions policy is permissible only if race is used as merely a “plus factor in the context of a holistic process that involves individualized consideration.[27] Individualized consideration allows a university to balance academic selectivity with the need for diversity, without sacrificing academic excellence in attempts to achieve race-neutral alternatives.[28] Grutter established that “narrow tailoring . . . require[s] serious, good faith consideration of workable race-neutral alternatives that will achieve the diversity the university seeks.”[29] However, what this goodfaith consideration would require and whether the threshold of critical mass for a university would be given deference were not addressed until Fisher v. University of Texas (Fisher I).[30]

Fisher I established that universities must show that the means used to achieve their diversity interest are narrowly tailored, as the court will not simply defer to the university on this issue.[31] To satisfy the narrowly tailored requirement, a university must show its admissions policy is necessary to achieve the educational benefits of diversity and that no race-neutral alternative is workable.[32] The Court in Fisher I ordered the University of Texas at Austin to show that they had exhausted race-neutral alternatives and reviewed the findings in Fisher II.[33] In Fisher II, the Court determined that the University of Texas at Austin had to show that a critical mass had not already been achieved through its race-neutral Top Ten Percent Plan.[34] However, the University of Texas’s goals did not need to be a precise number because a critical mass of diversity is qualitative, not quantitative.[35] The Court ultimately gave deference to the university’s goodfaith efforts to achieve diversity and accepted the argument that the university had not achieved critical mass.[36] Although Fisher I seemed to be arguing that the Court would require proof that there were no workable race-neutral alternatives, the Court in Fisher II seemed to give deference to the university on whether the race-neutral alternatives were good enough, or “workable,” to achieve its diversity goals.[37] This leaves the state of affirmative action in a similar place to where it was in Grutter.

Grutter’s conception of diversity is the current model[38] under which affirmative action is able to fulfill the function of a compelling interest,[39] but this has several limitations. Grutter specifically connects the value of diversity to education,[40] while also inflating the idea of critical mass as something that can be both a quantitatively meaningful number and a means of addressing diversity’s qualitative benefits.[41] It pursues diversity for its instrumental value and rejects any remedial justification, leading to the conception of diversity as one of integration rather than an effort to provide equal opportunity.[42] It does not distinguish “exploitative” from “egalitarian” objectives, which creates an equal opportunity problem—one that will continue to exist so long as there are hindrances unique to minorities that prevent any given admission “spot” from being fungible.[43]

II.  The Role of Asian Americans in Affirmative Action

Asian Americans have a complicated history with affirmative action that has developed into a divided stance on the topic within the Asian American community.[44] Adding to this complexity is the difficulty in establishing whether the objective of affirmative action is to seek equality in outcomes for a racial group or equality in opportunity for individual applicants.[45] For Asian Americans, the way in which the purpose of affirmative action is conceived greatly impacts what “side” of the debate feels fair.[46] There is confusion among the Asian American community about what affirmative action actually entails, leading some to misplace blame for what may be “hidden quotas to keep down Asian admissions” on affirmative action policies.[47] The misunderstanding of affirmative action within the Asian American community may stem from several legitimate concerns, involving a combination of an unrecognized history of discrimination in the United States, the role of Asian Americans as a “racial bourgeoisie,”[48] the perpetuation of the model minority myth, negative action policies, and the stereotype of Asian Americans as a “reticent minority.”[49]

A.  History of Asian Americans and Affirmative Action

Affirmative action was first enacted in a federal program under President Lyndon B. Johnson’s Executive Order 11246 as an “affirmative step” in remedying a history of excluding minority workers, including Asian Americans, from employment in contracting firms that accepted federal funding.[50] In the educational context, affirmative action programs led to significant increases in enrollment for African Americans, Hispanic Americans, and Asian Americans.[51] However, following the decision in Bakke, the growth in enrollment for African Americans and Hispanic Americans stopped and retreats from affirmative action programs swept the country.[52]

The flexible, “holistic” review idealized by the Harvard Plan[53] led to admissions programs that considered race without using strict quotas; some Asian Americans believed that this created an admissions ceiling, as Asian American admissions rates reached a constant plateau.[54]

In the most recent affirmative action decision in Fisher II, a significant number of amicus briefs were filed in support of the University of Texas at Austin’s admissions policy and diversity goals, including some by several Asian American organizations.[55] However, the Asian American Legal Foundation and the Asian American Coalition for Education (claiming to represent 117 Asian American organizations) filed an amicus brief in support of Abigail Fisher, indicating an increasing divide within the Asian American community on the issue of affirmative action.[56]

B.  A History of Discrimination Against Asian Americans

There is a tendency for the historical discrimination against Asian Americans to go unrecognized due to a perpetuation of the model minority myth. The model minority myth paints Asian Americans as successful, particularly in an educational context, and as immigrants who have achieved the American dream. This conception of Asian Americans is problematic because it creates racial dissonance between Asian Americans and other minorities by implying that the barriers to success do not stem from systematic and structural oppression of some groups, but rather from individuals within a minority group failing to progress. The model minority myth is dangerous because it is used to underscore institutional racism while simultaneously de-emphasizing Asian American success.[57] In addition, Asian Americans are not a monolithic group, and many ethnicities within the Asian American community have different experiences and suffer inequality in income and corporate hierarchies in different ways.

For much of the nineteenth century, Asian Americans were subject to exclusionary immigration laws.[58] Naturalization rights were not granted to people of Asian ancestry until the mid-twentieth century[59]1943 for Chinese, 1946 for Asian Indians and Filipinos, and 1952 for all other Asians.[60] Even for those born in the United States, the Fourteenth Amendment did not allow citizenship for Asian Americans until 1898,[61] and this was challenged as recently as 1942.[62] Though not to the same extent as African Americans, Asian Americans were affected by segregation laws and anti-miscegenation laws as well.[63] In addition, the Alien Land Laws forbade Asians from owning land by prohibiting “aliens ineligible for citizenship” from owning property.[64] Asian Americans were also subjected to targeted discrimination by all levels of government, from San Francisco’s laundry licensing authority which allowed white laundries to stay open while closing Chinese laundries[65] to the federal governmentsanctioned internment of more than 120,000 people of Japanese descent during World War II.[66]

Even though the Supreme Court has, in some instances, struck down laws racially prejudicial against Asian Americans, societal prejudice remains a constant issue. In 1982, two white men in Detroit murdered Vincent Chin, a Chinese-American man, because they thought he was Japanese and were upset over American automakers losing business to the Japanese auto industry.[67] In 1992, the killer of Japanese student Yoshihiro Hattori was acquitted on the basis of “reasonable” self-defense arguments,[68] but the validity of the self-defense claims were based on the jury’s racial prejudice in determining what a reasonable threat was.[69] In some cities, such as Boston and Philadelphia, as recently as the 1990s, Asian Americans suffered the highest per capita hate crime rate of all racial minorities.[70] Today, Asian Americans continue to be the target of discrimination and hate crimes.[71] Racist actions and violence against Asian Americans have seen a disturbing increase recently.[72] These hate crimes tend to be perpetuated by stereotypes of Asian “foreignness”[73] and create fear within the Asian American community that stretches beyond the immediate victims.

C.  The Racial Bourgeoisie

University of Hawaii Law Professor Mari Matsuda writes of Asian Americans being a “racial bourgeoisie”:

If white, as it has been historically, is the top of the racial hierarchy in America, and black, historically, is the bottom, will yellow assume the place of the racial middle? The role of the racial middle is a critical one. It can reinforce white supremacy if the middle deludes itself into thinking it can be just like white if it tries hard enough. Conversely, the middle can dismantle white supremacy if it refuses to be the middle, if it refuses to buy into racial hierarchy, and if it refuses to abandon communities of black and brown people, choosing instead to forge alliances with them.[74]

As a racial bourgeoisie, Asian Americans could take on a significant role in the affirmative action discussion. The danger of a racial bourgeoisie is that it places Asian Americans as “middlem[e]n,” too different to be white but not different enough to be “true minorities.”[75] “Racial triangulation” of Asian Americans describes the view in American society that places Asians in a middle ground between whites and African Americans on a level of superiority but on the opposite end of the spectrum from both groups in a level of “foreignness.”[76] This conception of Asian Americans as “perpetual foreigners”[77] means that it is easy to discount them, which allows people to place blame on Asian Americans for acts attributable to actual foreigners.[78]

Part of what enables Asian Americans to be a racial bourgeoisie is the perpetuation of the model minority myth.[79] This conception of Asian Americans as a “model minority” not only unfairly criticizes other minorities, but it also is based on false premises that lead to the diminution of those Asian American individuals who achieve success in the face of great adversity.[80] The dangers of the model minority myth and the conception of Asian Americans as too different to be a true minority are that they create the assumption that Asian Americans cannot face discrimination. However, not only do Asian Americans continue to face racial violence,[81] but they also face negative action in admissions policies. While Asian Americans have benefited and continue to benefit from affirmative action,[82] the creation of ceilings on Asian Americans, particularly in university admissions policies, is a separate, unrelated issue that works to keep Asian Americans in a racial bourgeoisie.[83] No amount of success that is perceived to be enjoyed by Asian Americans through the stereotype of the model minority myth should be used to defend any use of negative action, and while Asian Americans may not merit affirmative action preferences, they should be subject to the same “neutral action” associated with white applicants. A misunderstanding of the distinction between negative action and affirmative action has led many in the Asian American community to use statistics that indicate Asian Americans require higher test scores to get into the same colleges as applicants of other races in order to oppose affirmative action.[84] While there may be legitimate concern over intentional caps against Asian Americans, it should not allow the Asian American community to be confused by the goals and outcomes of affirmative action. It should be the goal of the Asian American community to prevent our own personal experiences from being manipulated into promoting outcomes that ultimately seek to maintain a “white image.”[85]

III.  STUDENTS FOR FAIR ADMISSIONS V. HARVARD

In the 1920s, people asked: will Harvard still be Harvard with so many Jews? Today we ask: will Harvard still be Harvard with so many Asians? Yale’s student population is 58 percent white and 18 percent Asian. Would it be such a calamity if those numbers were reversed?[86]

SFFA filed an action against Harvard College, alleging the use of racially discriminatory policies in violation of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.[87] To successfully challenge Harvard College’s admission policy under Title VI, SFFA must establish discriminatory intent, mirroring the constitutional standard, rather than the disparate impact standard.[88] Although the plaintiff originally argued six counts for relief, the suit ultimately relies on four main reasons that Harvard’s admission policy is racially discriminatory: (1) uses racial “quotas,” (2) engage[s] in racial balancing,” (3) fail[s] to use race merely as a plus factor’” in its undergraduate admissions process, and (4) fails to use race-neutral alternatives sufficient to achieve Harvard’s diversity goals.[89] SFFA asserts that it has “at least one member . . . who applied for and was denied admission to Harvard’s 2014 entering class.”[90] This unnamed applicant is described as being Asian American, having parents who are first-generation immigrants from China; graduating with a ranking of one out of 460 students in a high school that U.S. News and World Report places in the top 5 percent in the United States; obtaining a perfect score of 36 on the ACT; and being named an AP Scholar with Distinction, a National Scholar, and a National Merit Scholarship Finalist.[91] In addition to the applicant’s academic achievements, this applicant was

captain of the varsity tennis team, volunteered at a community tennis camp, volunteered for the high school’s student peer tutoring program, was a volunteer fundraiser for National Public Radio, and traveled to China as part of a program organized by the United States Consulate General and Chinese American Students Education and Exchange to assist students in learning English writing and presentation skills.[92]

The Harvard admissions process involves application evaluations by a first reader, a docket chair, and a final review by the full forty-person admissions committee.[93] When first readers review an application, they give numerical scores in the following categories: overall, academic, extracurricular, athletic, personal, teacher recommendations, school support recommendation, staff interview ratings, and alumni interview ratings.[94] The personal rating is based on the admissions officer’s “assessment of the applicant’s ‘humor, sensitivity, grit, leadership, integrity, helpfulness, courage, kindness and many other qualities.’”[95] The overall rating represents the officer’s view of the application as a whole, but instead of being determined “by a formula [or] . . . adding up the other ratings,” the first readers simply take “all the factors into account,” including race.[96] Once the full committee meets and makes its decisions, the dean and director confirm the final target of admitted students and consult a “one-pager” with race, gender, geographic region, and other statistics about the potential new class to determine whether some applicant need to “lopped” from the admitted list.[97]

In 2013, Harvard’s Office of Institutional Research (OIR) produced an internal report showing that the admission rate for Asian Americans was highest where the criteria for admission was solely based on academics and progressively decreased the more variables that were added.[98] In OIR’s second report, it found that the only category in which non-legacy, non-athlete white applicants performed significantly better than their similarly situated Asian American applicants was the personal rating, but the report failed to explain why.[99] This second report also found that non-legacy, non-athlete white applicants were admitted at higher rates than non-legacy, non-athlete Asia American applicants with the same academic scores and further concluded that Asian Americans were the only racial group with a negative association between being admitted and their race.[100] In 2015, Harvard established a Committee to Study the Importance of Student Body Diversity, which concluded in its report that student body diversity creates positive impacts and “is fundamental to the effective education of the men and women of Harvard College.”[101] In 2017, Harvard established the Smith Committee, which was dedicated to study whether race-neutral alternatives were workable for achieving the benefits concluded in the 2015 committee.[102] The Smith Committee concluded that there were no workable race-neutral alternatives that would allow Harvard to achieve the benefits of educational diversity without sacrificing other important educational objectives.[103]

An important step in understanding this case requires a closer look into SFFA and its goals. The President of SFFA, Edward Blum, has been instrumental in challenging affirmative action and voting rights laws in more than two dozen lawsuits.[104] He orchestrated Fisher I and II[105] as well as Shelby County v. Holder,[106] which successfully contested the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Blum challenges “racial policies he thinks are unfair” under the names of his several organizations, including SFFA, which have been criticized as being nothing more than Blum’s own “alter ego.”[107] Blum’s work from 2010 to 2015 received $2.9 million from several non-profits and the DonorsTrust, which distributes money from conservative and libertarian contributors, leading many to consider Blum a “tool of rich conservatives trying to extinguish efforts to help historically oppressed minorities overcome the long shadow of racism.”[108] Given the background of Blum, it seems likely that the overall goal of SFFA and Blum seems to be to eliminate race-conscious admissions policies altogether, not just negative action against Asian Americans.

A.  The Procedural History and Current Status of SFFA v. Harvard

Since the complaint was filed in November 2014, future applicants and current students at Harvard petitioned to intervene as defendants but were denied and subsequently given amicus status.[109] The presiding judge, Judge Allison D. Burroughs, determined that each side would have a ten to twelve month discovery process, beginning in May 2015 but denied SFFA’s explicit request for access to Harvard admissions data.[110] The case was temporarily stayed in anticipation of the Supreme Court’s ruling on Fisher II.[111] However, in September 2016, Judge Burroughs ordered that Harvard provide six cycles of admissions data as well as any information relating to any internal or external investigations into allegations of discrimination against Asian Americans in the undergraduate admissions process.[112]

Both sides have filed several motions to seal that have been granted by the Judge Burroughs, thus limiting the amount of evidence that is available to the public at this time.[113] Harvard filed a motion to dismiss for lack of subject matter jurisdiction in September 2016 that was denied in June 2017.[114] However, in June 2017, Judge Burroughs did grant Harvard’s motion for partial judgment on the pleadings of Count IV and VI, which respectively claimed violations based on Harvard’s failure to use race to merely fill the “last few spots” in an incoming class and “any use of race as a factor in admissions.”[115]

In September 2017, the Department of Justice (“DOJ”) formally notified Harvard that it was under investigation for its use of race in its admissions policies.[116] The DOJ’s Civil Rights Division sent a letter to Harvard on November 17, 2017, stating that Harvard was “not complying with its Title VI access requirements,” and if Harvard failed to provide the requested documents by December 1, 2018, the agency might file a lawsuit against the university.[117] Harvard challenged the agency’s authority to investigate and was willing to “provide the Justice Department with documents produced for the federal court case, ‘with redactions for relevance, privacy, and privilege/work product protection.’”[118] The core of the investigation was related to the same issues argued in the SFFA v. Harvard complaint. In 2015, the Obama administration dismissed the request to investigate without evaluating the merits due to the parallel lawsuit; however, in 2017, the Trump administration pursued the investigation, creating skepticism about the party divide and political motivations plaguing affirmative action policies.[119] In August 2018, the DOJ offered SFFA a public show of support through its statement of interest in court.[120] The DOJ did not make any conclusions of illegality, but it did urge the court to deny Harvard’s request for summary judgment.[121] From October to November 2018, Judge Burroughs heard oral arguments on the four remaining Counts, namely I, II, III, and V, from both SFFA and Harvard.[122] During the trial, there was a large reliance on student anecdotes and expert testimony, with SFFA using Peter S. Arcidiacono, an economics professor from Duke University,[123] and Richard D. Kahlenberg, a senior fellow at the Century Foundation,[124] and Harvard primarily relying on David E. Card, an economics professor from UC Berkeley.[125] In closing arguments, SFFA highlighted the expert testimony to demonstrate a “statistically significant Asian penalty,” while Harvard countered that SFFA had failed to prove any bias against Asian Americans but was instead a tool to take down “decades-old efforts toward racial diversity that enhances the educational experience.”[126] Although Judge Burroughs’s decision doesn’t have a definitive timeline, she is expected to release it in early 2019, and the decision is likely to be appealed by the losing side.[127] While a ruling at the district court in favor of SFFA would likely not eliminate the possibility of race-conscious admissions altogether, it could force Harvard, and other elite universities, to create policies that limit the consideration of race. It is quite possible the case could reach the Supreme Court of the United States, where the environment is drastically different from what it was when Fisher II was decided in 2016 given Justice Kennedy’s swing vote has been replaced by Justice Kavanaugh and the presidential administration’s view of affirmative action has shifted.[128]

B.  SFFA’s Arguments

SFFA makes several arguments describing why Harvard’s admissions policies are intentionally discriminatory on the basis of race and ethnicity in violation of Title VI. SFFA and Harvard filed a joint statement asking “that the requirement for a trial brief be stricken” based on their extensive summary judgment filings[129] and since SFFA’s motion for summary judgment was solely based on Counts I, II, III, and V of the complaint, which ultimately formed the basis of SFFA’s arguments at trial.[130] First, SFFA argues that Harvard’s holistic review process is historically discriminatory and is now being used to intentionally discriminate against Asian Americans.[131] Second, SFFA contends that Harvard is engaged in racial balancing based on evidence of stable admission percentages across races even as the application rates change over time.[132] Third, SFFA claims that Harvard’s pursuit of critical mass does not adhere to the Harvard Plan that was idealized in Bakke because it considers race as more than just a “plus factor.[133] SFFA argues that critical mass is an amorphous term that creates a delusion of pursuing diversity when it is really used “to achieve numerical goals indistinguishable from quotas” and results in race being used as more than just a plus factor.[134] Fourth, SFFA argues that Harvard’s race-conscious admissions policy is not narrowly tailored because there are race-neutral alternatives that could be used to achieve diversity based on policies used by other elite universities.[135]

1.  Count I: Harvard Intentionally Discriminates Against Asian Americans

In the first argument, SFFA contends that Harvard’s admissions policies were historically developed for “the specific purpose of discriminating against disfavored minority groups.”[136] SFFA points to the 1920s and 1930s when then Harvard President A. Lawrence Lowell placed a cap on Jewish enrollment through the use of an admissions system that was based on discretion rather than academic achievement.[137] Harvard began using legacy preferences and a subjective admissions system gauging “character and fitness and the promise of the greatest usefulness in the future as a result of a Harvard education” as strategies to reduce the number of Jewish students admitted.[138]

SFFA argues that Harvard’s current admissions plan uses the same subjective system to consider “race or ethnicity itself—not other factors that may be associated with race or ethnicity—[as] a distinguishing characteristic that warrants consideration in the admissions process” in order to create a quota of African American students.[139] SFFA goes on to claim that Harvard has a long history of intentional discrimination against Asian Americans, ranging from refusing to recognize Asian Americans as a minority by describing them as “over-represented” to holding Asian Americans to a higher standard of admissions.[140] In July 1988, the Office of Civil Rights of the U.S. Department of Education investigated the treatment of Asian American applicants at Harvard in comparison to white applicants and found that while Asian American applicants were accepted at a significantly lower rate than “similarly qualified” white applicants, the disparity was attributed to legacy preferences, not the byproduct of racial discrimination as claimed by SFFA.[141] SFFA continues by referencing the EspenshadeRadford study[142] on the role of race in elite undergraduate admissions, which found that “AsianAmerican students were dramatically less likely to be admitted than otherwise similar students who identified themselves as white or Caucasian.”[143] SFFA also cites to Ron Unz’s study[144] which found “sheer constancy of [Asian American enrollment] percentages, with almost every year from 1995-2011 showing an Asian enrollment within a single point of the 16.5 percent average, despite high fluctuations in the numbers of applications and the inevitable uncertainty surrounding which students will accept admission,” and this “exactly replicates the historical pattern . . . in which Jewish enrollment rose very rapidly, leading to the imposition of an informal quota system, after which the numbers fell substantially, and thereafter remained constant for decades.”[145] SFFA then cites to studies indicating that elite schools with race-neutral admissions policies have higher Asian American enrollment, with a table comparing Asian American enrollment at Harvard and the California Institute of Technology.[146] The complaint also refers to personal anecdotes of admission staff at Harvard and other elite universities, college counselors, and Asian American applicants, describing how “Asian Americans face difficulty because they cannot distinguish themselves within their community.”[147]

During the trial, each party relied on its own expert reports “to show the presence or absence of a negative effect of being Asian American on the likelihood of admission, highlight[ed] the purported flaws of its opponent’s statistical analysis, and claim[ed] that there is substantial—or zero—documentary and testimonial evidence of discriminatory intent.”[148] SFFA specifically relied on Arcidiacono’s testimony which concluded that Harvard gave lower personal ratings to Asian Americans at every level of academic achievement than applicants of all other racial groups and further showed that among applicants with the same overall rating, Asian Americans were the least likely to be admitted.[149] However, Harvard’s expert, Card, reviewed the same admissions data but found “no negative effect of being Asian American on the likelihood of admission to Harvard” because disparities were due to Asian American applications being “slightly less strong than those submitted by White applicants across a range of observable non-academic measures.”[150] Arcidiacono and Card reach different results from the same data due to divergent modeling choices, with Card criticizing Arcidiacono for excluding certain applicant information.[151] SFFA also uses the Harvard OIR reports to indicate that Harvard’s own internal research division found results consistent with Arcidiacono then took no further steps to investigate the potential bias, but Harvard claims that Card’s more comprehensive and reliable study contradicts the OIR report.[152] Lastly, SFFA uses personal anecdotes, specifically from an OIR employee and alumni interviewers, to demonstrate discriminatory intent, but Harvard asserts that statements made by non-decisionmakers or decisionmakers not involved in the process are insufficient to demonstrate discriminatory animus.[153]

2.  Count II: Harvard Engages in Racial Balancing

In the second argument, SFFA contends that Harvard’s current admissions policy engages in “racial balancing” in order to ensure a fixed quota of Asian American enrollees or proportional representation in its student body.[154] SFFA points to statistical data indicating that the racial demographics of Harvard’s admissions and enrollment have remained stable over approximately the last decade,[155] despite fluctuations in application rates.[156] SFFA contends the following:

[B]etween 2003 and 2012, the percentage of Asian Americans at Harvard wavered only slightly above and below approximately 17 percent. . . . [D]espite the fact that, by 2008, Asian Americans made up over 27 percent of Harvard’s applicant pool, and approximately 46 percent of applicants with academic credentials in the range from which Harvard admits the overwhelming majority of students.[157]

SFFA points to the “one-pagers” that provide statistics of the present representation of various racial groups as compared to the prior year as proof of Harvard’s quota for Asian Americans.[158] SFFA alleges that Harvard reconsiders applications from particular groups after receiving the one-pager in order to align the current class demographics with the prior year, which would effectively create a cap on Asian American enrollment regardless of the application rate or level of qualifications.[159] In the “lopping” process, the admissions committee allegedly takes into account the applicant’s race and whether it is currently underrepresented in the prospective class.[160] Harvard contends that the one-pagers break down applicants not only by race but also by gender, geography, intended concentration, legacy status, socioeconomic status, and other categories.[161] Harvard argues that the lopping process is an unbiased, necessary part of a process that involves an “overabundance of qualified applicants” for a limited availability of spots.[162] While SFFA points to a somewhat consistent admitted class breakdown for each racial group to show racial quotas, Harvard counters by claiming that there was a significant 11% increase in Asian American enrollment when it went from 18% (Class of 2014) to 20% (Class of 2017).[163]

3.  Count III: Harvard Considers Race as More than Just a “Plus Factor”

In its third argument, SFFA claims that Harvard is not considering race for the purpose of achieving “critical mass” because it considers race as more than just a “plus factor.[164] Although the Supreme Court gives deference to a university in determining if diversity is part of their educational goals and deference in determining if critical mass has already been achieved, SFFA argues that Harvard’s admissions policy fails in its methods for attaining educational diversity because they are not narrowly tailored to a goal of reaching critical mass.[165] In addition, SFFA argues that since Harvard is not pursuing a goal of critical mass, the race-conscious admissions could be used in perpetuity even though there may be some point in time where the “use of racial preferences will no longer be necessary to further the interest” in diversity.[166] Harvard has an obligation to “continually reassess its need for race-conscious review,” but Harvard claims that the Smith Committee evaluated the current need for race-conscious admissions and a re-evaluation would be done again five years after the Smith Committee issued its report.[167]

SFFA argues that Harvard uses race as more than just a “plus factor.”[168] However, Harvard counters with testimony from Card stating that the variability in admissions is better explained by an applicant’s academic, athletic, extracurricular, and personal ratings, rather than race.[169] Similar to the arguments for Count I, the outcome of this issue is heavily dependent on which expert is given greater credibility and the reliability of the anecdotal testimony of admissions office employees.

4.  Count V: Harvard Has Failed to Show There Are no Workable Race-Neutral Alternatives

In its last argument, SFFA offers race-neutral alternatives that Harvard could use to achieve student body diversity.[170] SFFA argues that Harvard should implement an admissions policy that creates diversity by placing emphasis on socioeconomic factors, including parental education and wealth, which are not specifically tied to race even though they may be strongly correlated.[171] In addition, SFFA proposes that Harvard use financial aid and scholarships for socioeconomically disadvantaged students to incentivize minority enrollment.[172] SFFA suggests that increasing recruitment into the applicant pool for “highly qualified, socioeconomically disadvantaged minorities” would lead to an increase in student body diversity and be sufficient to achieve Harvard’s educational goals.[173] SFFA contends that the need for race-conscious policies would not be necessary if other admissions policies that explicitly disadvantage minority applicants, such as legacy and wealthy donor preferences, were eliminated.[174] SFFA uses testimony from their expert Kahlenberg to support that Harvard can easily achieve diversity by race-neutral policies, such as increasing socioeconomic preferences; increasing financial aid;” and reducing legacy and donor preferences.[175] In response, Harvard asserts that the Smith Committee satisfied strict scrutiny when it determined that there were no available race-neutral alternatives.[176] Lastly, SFFA argues that Harvard has not considered race-neutral alternatives in good faith because the Smith Committee was developed after they became aware of the imminence of a lawsuit.[177]

D.  Criticisms of SFFA’s Arguments

1.  The Arguments in the Complaint Are Flawed

The complaint, as previously discussed, lays out four main arguments: (1) intentional discrimination; (2) racial balancing; (3) not using race as merely a plus factor; and (4) the existence of race-neutral alternatives. First, the argument surrounding the racial quota is flawed because SFFA uses evidence of a quota against Jewish Americans in the 1920s as an indication of a discriminatory intent currently in place against Asian Americans. The existence of a past discriminatory intent in the creation of the policies affecting Jewish applicants in the 1920s does not prevent Harvard from claiming to have benign intentions in the use of its policies now.[178] Since the discriminatory impact is not so severe as to allow a presumption of discriminatory intent as in Yick Wo, in which all permit applications by Chinese owners to set up a laundry business were denied,[179] SFFA would be required to show that constant admission rates of Asian Americans are due to a discriminatory intent to have an upper limit of Asian Americans at Harvard. Because SFFA’s proof is heavily reliant on the court finding its expert’s method of statistical analysis to be more compelling, it will be difficult to show that Arcidiacono’s conclusions are enough to prove discriminatory intent. Even if a racial quota is found to exist, it would only prove that Harvard itself is participating in an impermissible form of discrimination through the use of quotas against Asian Americans; that finding would not invalidate affirmative action in all higher education admissions or prevent the consideration of race in admissions policies elsewhere. SFFA’s use of statistics, such as those from the Espenshade–Radford study,[180] to support the existence of this racial quota falsely manipulates the data to conflate the negative action experienced by Asian Americans with affirmative action. In fact, an upper limit quota on Asian Americans is more likely to benefit white applicants than any minority applicants.[181] While the assertion of an upper limit quota against Asian Americans is highly possible given the constant admission rates of Asian Americans, it would not be due to affirmative action. Rather, it would be due to a combination of efforts to maintain a “white image” at elite universities, enflamed by the use of legacy preferences and the devaluation of Asian American diversity.

Second, SFFA’s argument that Harvard is conducting racial balancing in its admissions policy based on the same stable admission percentages used to indicate the racial quota in the first argument is flawed because diversity itself gains value from balance. Although critical mass is an immeasurable number, its definition inherently requires that it be attached to some ideal balance. While this balance should not solely be based on race, race does play a factor in contributing to the educational benefits of diversity, such that critical mass could definitely not be achieved if an elite university were made up entirely of one race. Any university that limits its number of accepted applicants requires a balance of diversity because not all qualified candidates can be accepted, so to claim there is impermissible racial balancing would be to argue that admissions policies instead need to be attached to something more quantitative like proportionate representation or application rates. The Supreme Court has not found this to be necessary given that Fisher II gave deference to universities in determining whether their admissions policies were narrowly tailored to achieving diversity. Unless there is evidence that Asian Americans are being “lopped” based on the one-pagers and a desire to create a racial demographic that is the same year after year, it will be difficult to show that Harvard is partaking in impermissible racial balancing. However, the balance universities achieve through their admissions policies should be subject to some scrutiny. While a balance may be inherently necessary, the conception of over-representation can lead to an unfair suppression of some groups in the consideration of this balance. The conception of over-representation is an issue because it leads to the idea that there can be too many of a certain group. While this may be true if the goal is to create a diverse class of individuals, it should be questioned when over-representation is only attached to minority groups.[182] Ultimately, there is distrust that SFFA would be welcoming to an outcome that eliminated racial balancing entirely if it meant that Harvard only accepted Asian Americans.[183]

Third, SFFA contends that Harvard does not use race as merely a plus factor because its consideration of race in admissions is not for the purpose of achieving critical mass. While Harvard’s creation of the Smith Committee seems correlated to the filing of the lawsuit, there is no indication that Harvard does not intend to follow its recommendation to re-evaluate in five years, which would be compliant with Fisher II’s mandate to continue reassessing critical mass.[184] Harvard’s admissions policy is to consider race as one factor among many, and almost all of the categories it creates ratings for do not allow the officers to consider race in their scores. While it is misguided for SFFA to challenge the consideration of race in Harvard’s policies as the exist on paper, there should be scrutiny placed on whether admissions officers allow unconscious bias and stereotypes about Asian Americans to influence the ratings of the other categories. When personal ratings of Asian American applicants are consistently lower than white applicants, it should lead to questions about whether admissions officers are more likely to undervalue humor, leadership, courage, and other traits that the personal ratings are based on when they are attached to an Asian American.

Fourth, SFFA suggests that Harvard could achieve diversity through race-neutral alternatives, such as socioeconomic status. Although socioeconomic disadvantage and race may overlap, they do not target identical problems, and thus, the consideration of race should not be completely replaced by solely considering socioeconomic status. They are both to be considered in the admissions process, among a multitude of other diversity factors. The Court in Fisher II allowed universities to use race-conscious admissions where there are no workable race-neutral alternatives that would sufficiently achieve their goals for educational diversity, so Harvard would not be required, under the current law, to adopt an inadequate socioeconomic status-based alternative. Admissions policies based on socioeconomic status may also be offered as a subtle way to assist race and genderbased affirmative action, but they should not be considered as a cure-all in college admissions.[185]

2.  Logical Fallacies

SFFA’s arguments are flawed due to their susceptibility to logical fallacies, such as the “causation fallacy”[186] and the “average-test-score-of-admitted-students”[187] fallacy. The causation fallacy is a term coined by California Supreme Court Justice Goodwin Liu to describe when “the fallacy erroneously conflates the magnitude of affirmative action’s instrumental benefit to minority applicants, which is large, with the magnitude of its instrumental cost to white applicants, which is small.”[188] For unsuccessful applicants, there is a reflex to blame affirmative action, but in a selection process as rigorous as the ones at elite universities, the likelihood of success for any candidate is low, regardless of affirmative action. Because white applicants greatly outnumber minority applicants and a large number of factors are considered, the average white applicant is not significantly more likely to be selected under a race-neutral process than a race-conscious one.[189] Although there are racial gaps in test scores, it is not evidence that affirmative action creates discriminatory acceptance rates, given that non-objective factors also play a role in admissions.[190] The causation fallacy leads to “a distortion of statistical truth, premised on an error in logic. . . . But that fact provides no logical basis to infer that white applicants would stand a much better chance of admission in the absence of affirmative action.”[191] Therefore, any presence of a racial quota or ceiling against Asian American admission cannot be due to affirmative action because the number of spots is too few to account for a constant admission rate despite increased application rates.[192]

The average-test-score-of-admitted-students fallacy is employed by SFFA in its argument that blames affirmative action for statistics showing Asian Americans need to score higher on standardized tests in order to be accepted. Because academic merits are only one factor of many in a holistic admissions process, “it is incorrect to infer Asian American applicants are required to meet a higher test standard even if the group average SAT score of all admitted Asian American students to a given university is higher than the SAT score of all African American admitted students.”[193] This is because SAT scores are not the only basis for admission to universities, and even though the group average SAT score of all admitted Asian American students to a university may be higher than all other groups, their group average non-academic scores may be collectively lower. While this explains why average test scores of Asian Americans may be higher at no fault of affirmative action, it also raises the question of whether Asian Americans’ non-academic qualities are being undervalued as a result of negative action and harmful stereotypes. However, it would be a mistake to want an admissions process that solely relies on academic criteria because scholastic ability, on its own, does not determine beneficial contribution to an elite university, and it has been shown that standardized tests are not racially neutral determinants of merit.[194] Both of these logical fallacies are employed in SFFA’s complaint and are used to appeal to the Asian American community as a way to manipulate blame for discriminatory ceilings against Asian Americans to create support for eliminating affirmative action.

IV.  Asian Americans and Affirmative Action in the Future

A.  Diversity Re-Evaluated

The use of an unnamed Asian American plaintiff and any possible evidence of an upper limit quota against Asian Americans should not bring into question whether diversity is a compelling interest. However, the conception of what this diversity should look like does need to change. There is a fear in the affirmative action discussion that any criticism of current race-conscious policies could be seen as an attack on affirmative action. That should not be the case; while affirmative action creates necessary benefits, it can also be improved.

The conception of diversity needs to evolve past even the idea of intra-racial diversity that was introduced in Fisher II. Diversity needs to be more than just having diversity within racial groups; the discussion needs to shift toward why diverse characteristics become more valuable when attributed to one race over another. When holistic admissions policies allow negative stereotypes about a group to bias their conception of diversity, the true educational benefits of a diverse student body cannot be achieved.

There is a concern that an admissions process that uses racial preferences as a means of enhancing educational diversity may stereotype applicants by race, expressing illegitimate assumptions about applicants’ viewpoints and experiences.[195] For Asian Americans, these stereotypes are harmful and can help explain any potential ceilings. Even when the stereotypes are deemed “positive,” such as the model minority myth, there can be a negative effect.[196] While these “positive” stereotypes may help Asian Americans break into the workforce, these same stereotypes may also prevent them from advancing upward through management.[197] This leads to data that may show “many Asian Americans are ‘underemployed’ relative to their educational background,”[198] creating an assumption within the Asian American community “that a fact of American life is that their efforts and accomplishments are discounted.”[199]

When the stereotypes are negative, there is an even greater impact. Negative stereotypes can lead to “admissions committees [concluding] unfairly that [Asian American] applicants were not well-balanced individuals.”[200] This stereotype that Asian Americans are one-dimensional fails to value the diversity associated with Asian Americans. This creates two main issues. First, while there is value in providing a characteristic that is unusual for your race because you have a unique experience, this does not account for why those same characteristics are valued differently across races, even where they create intraracial diversity[201] equally. For white or other minority applicants, the value of being a concert pianist or a chess player is seen as positive, while for an Asian American, it may be seen as negative because it does not distinguish the Asian American applicant from his or her perceived societal stereotype. While there is a large value to be placed on intraracial diversity and interracial diversity,[202] it is important to question whether there are any equivalent stereotypes that hold back white applicants.[203] Second, there is an additional failure to even recognize the intraracial diversity that already exists among Asian Americans. Asian Americans have diverse cultural backgrounds and experiences that are undervalued when they are viewed as a monolithic group.[204] There would be great intraracial diversity between two Asian American applicants, even if both have the same SAT scores and extracurricular activities, if one was the child of Vietnamese immigrants who came as refugees after the Vietnam War, and the other was the child of secondgeneration Punjabi Americans. To place less value on these distinct cultural experiences than would be placed on the diversity of “a farm boy from Idaho”[205] is illogical. When admissions officers reward candidates who “appear less Asian” or when professional admissions consultants recommend Asian Americans not talk about their immigrant backgrounds to avoid discrimination, it should raise the question of whether there is a devaluation of the Asian American identity in admissions policies.[206]

The diversity of Asian Americans is also devalued through the perception of Asian Americans as over-represented in education. The idea of over-representation itself creates the presumption that Asian Americans are not subjected to discrimination in admissions policies, which is not the case.[207] When schools are identified as being “too Asian,” the diversity of Asian Americans is reduced to an assumption that all Asian Americans are the same and are not valued as individuals who provide a unique benefit to a university. The comments crying “yellow peril” are not said in hushed tones or with backlash of racism, but are viewed as commonplace.[208] The claim of “too Asian” stems out of a fear of universities losing their “white image” due to competition with Asians.[209] With the combination of feeling over-represented while also being asked to “appear less Asian,” the effect has resulted in Asian Americans internalizing these beliefs and a lack of self-identity.[210] For elite universities looking to gain the educational benefits of diversity, creating admissions policies that value the broad range of Asian American experiences is necessary.

B.  Unity with Other Minorities

Asian Americans are traditionally viewed as a “reticent minority because in comparison to other ethnic groups, they tend to be less politically active and vocal.[211] There has been a recent increase in Asian American political activity, particularly in affirmative action,[212] which is necessary and important. However, it is crucial that Asian Americans not fall victim to a “race to the bottom” mentality by attacking other minority groups in a competition of who is worse off.[213] In considering affirmative action, Asian Americans should work with other minorities in discussing with universities “what the institutional and minority needs and priorities are.”[214] When Asian Americans criticize affirmative action, they must first ask themselves (1) even if you are individually innocent of any racial discrimination and face it yourself, do you not benefit from it? and (2) would you trade your Asian American experience to participate in the “piecemeal remedy of affirmative action programs?[215] While the unsuccessful candidate may feel that there are painful costs to affirmative action, Asian Americans should be protesting negative action based on the perpetuation of harmful stereotypes, rather than affirmative action, which continues to benefit Asian Americans. As a racial bourgeoisie, Asian Americans have not been included in affirmative action discussions, and they are caught between societal beliefs that they are receiving preferential treatment and personal feelings of experiencing discrimination.[216]

Conclusion

After Fisher II, diversity is the only justification accepted by the Supreme Court as a compelling interest for universities’ admissions policies to satisfy strict scrutiny, and although the Court claimed to require the university to show no race-neutral alternatives, it ultimately gave deference to the university’s good faith in determining whether the race-neutral alternatives would be plausible in achieving the educational benefits of diversity. The historical discrimination of Asian Americans and their existence as a group too different to be white and not different enough to be a “true minority” give context to why there is frustration and misunderstanding over affirmative action in the Asian American community. Although the negative repercussions of these circumstances and the stereotypes they come with are harmful to Asian Americans, they are not the result of affirmative action and would not be remedied by an elimination of affirmative action. SFFAs complaint and the arguments it made at trial against Harvard rest on misconceptions of the Asian American experience in the admissions processes. In its effort to get rid of race-conscious admissions programs, SFFA falls victim to logical fallacies and fails to address the true problem facing Asian Americans in admissions. While diversity continues to be a compelling interest, the conception of what types of diversity are valued needs to be re-evaluated to consider the stereotypes attributed to Asian Americans. For the Asian American community, their position as a racial bourgeoisie can have a significant impact in the affirmative action discussion if Asian Americans can target their efforts at attacking negative action while simultaneously supporting affirmative action.

 

 


[*] *.. Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 92; J.D. Candidate, 2019, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A., Economics and Legal Studies 2015, University of California, Berkeley. I greatly appreciate Professor Stephen Rich for his guidance and the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their excellent work. Thank you to my family—Mom, Dad, Jen, Andy, and Matt—and to my friends for their endless support and constant willingness to listen to me talk about this Note.

 [1]. Wesley Yang, Paper Tigers: What Happens to All the Asian-American Overachievers When the Test-Taking Ends?, N.Y. Mag. (May 8, 2011), http://nymag.com/news/features/asian-americans-2011-5 (expressing the author’s perspective on the Asian American experience). This puts into context the complexity of the role that Asian Americans play not only in the affirmative action discussion, but also in American society as a whole. When the stereotype that attaches to Asian Americans is that they are all the same, what value can be placed on an individual Asian American’s conception of self?

 [2]. Some of the experiences my maternal grandparents faced in the Japanese American internment camps are also discussed in an article published by USC Gould School of Law. See 75 Years Later: The Impact of Executive Order 9066, USC Gould School of Law (Feb. 16, 2017), https://gould.usc.edu
/about/news/?id=4352.

 [3]. This is not to diminish the experience of those applicants who have to check “Other” because the ethnicity or culture they identify with is not listed, which is a separate but serious issue as well. This is to highlight the feeling of being told that your chances of admission would be greater if the university does not know you are Asian American, indicating Asian Americans get deducted points in comparison to even white applicants. It is not a comforting notion when many applicants of Asian-American descent have first or last names that reveal their identity regardless of what ethnicity they mark on their application.

  The description of my experience applying to colleges is not to insinuate that I should have been accepted to a specific university based upon my qualifications. The qualifications I describe are those of a typical applicant, whereas the suggestion of checking the “Other” box is a less universal experience. It is part of what helps me to understand the frustrations felt by many in the Asian-American community who are pushing back against Harvard’s admissions policies.

 [4]. See infra note 57 and accompanying text.

 [5]. The concept of a “racial bourgeoisie” was coined by Mari Matsuda. Mari J. Matsuda, We Will not be Used: Are Asian Americans the Racial Bourgeoisie?, in Where Is Your Body? And Other Essays on Race, Gender, and the Law 149, 149–50 (1996). It refers to an idea that Asian Americans fall into a racial middle ground that acts as a buffer between whites and African Americans, with Asian Americans stuck being too privileged to be minorities and too foreign to be honorary whites. Id.

 [6]. Matsuda, supra note 5, at 150.

 [7]. Complaint at 100–01, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. Nov. 17, 2014), 2014 WL 6241935. This Note is limited in scope and does not discuss whether the Supreme Court is likely to hear this case or any likely outcome. This Note is limited to critiquing the arguments set out in Students for Fair Admissions’ (“SFFA’s”) complaint that were argued during the trial, which concluded in November 2018, trying to create background on why the Asian American community may be divided on this issue, and making a suggestion for the future of affirmative action as the discussion begins to include Asian Americans. See Chloe Foussianes, A Timeline of the Harvard Affirmative Action Lawsuit, Town & Country (Nov. 2, 2018), https://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/money-and-power/a24561452/harvard-lawsuit-affirmative-action-timeline.

 [8]. SFFA is a “newly-formed, nonprofit, membership organization whose members include highly qualified students recently denied admission to [Harvard and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill], highly qualified students who plan to apply to both schools, and parents.” Project on Fair Representation Announces Lawsuits Challenging Admissions Policies at Harvard Univ. and Univ. of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, Students for Fair Admissions, https://studentsforfairadmissions.org
/project-on-fair-representation-announces-lawsuits-challenging-admissions-policies-at-harvard-univ-and-univ-of-north-carolina-chapel-hill (last visited Jan. 21, 2019). The president of Students for Fair Admissions is Edward Blum, who is also the president of the Project on Fair Representation, which was founded in 2005 “to support litigation that challenges racial and ethnic classifications and preferences.” About Us, Project on Fair Representation, https://www.projectonfairrepresentation.org/about (last visited Jan. 21, 2019). The Project on Fair Representation has been involved in admissions lawsuits with other universities, including Fisher v. University of Texas at Austin. Brittany N. Ellis, The Harvard Admissions Lawsuit, Explained, Harv. Crimson (Nov. 7, 2016), http://www.thecrimson.com/article
/2016/11/7/harvard-admissions-lawsuit-explainer.

 [9]. Fisher v. Univ. of Tex. at Austin, 136 S. Ct. 2198, 2227 n.4 (2016) (Fisher II) (Alito, J., dissenting) (“The majority’s assertion that UT’s race-based policy does not discriminate against Asian-American students . . . defies the laws of mathematics. UT’s program is clearly designed to increase the number of African-American and Hispanic students by giving them an admissions boost vis-à-vis other applicants.”).

 [10]. I acknowledge that the term “Asian American” encompasses many different cultures and experiences, adding to some of the problems of Asian Americans being viewed as a monolithic group. However, the use of terms such as “Asian Americans,” “African Americans,” and “Hispanic Americans” is not intended to describe the experience of all individuals within such “groups,” but as a way to discuss the larger-scale issues surrounding affirmative action within the context of SFFA v. Harvard. The terms “Asian Americans,” “African Americans,” and “Hispanic Americans” were chosen based on how college admissions categorize ethnicity. See Admissions Statistics, Harvard C., https://college.harvard.edu
/admissions/admissions-statistics. The discussion of stereotypes in this Note is used solely to acknowledge their negative impact and not to recognize them as truth, and while stereotypes in any context may be harmful, it may be necessary to discuss them in order to understand our own internal biases. 

 [11]. See Rogers M. Smith, Civic Ideals: Conflicting Visions of Citizenship in U.S. History 212–17 (1999). In order to maintain dominance and power, wealthy white males recognized they would need to expand the civic identity to include poor white males. Id. By creating a dissonance between poor whites and minority groups, wealthy white males were able to maintain their power in the political system. Id.

 [12]. See id. at 197–242 (describing American ascriptivism). Smith offers a theory that the American political system developed with influence from an ascriptive tradition based on racist, sexist, and nativist assumptions that only allowed certain individuals to take part in the American civic identity. Id.

  SFFA’s complaint may be a reaction to the egalitarian civic reforms over the last few decades, showing that democratic principles have failed to create a shared sense of “peoplehood” and instead left people desiring for a return to some “superior culture” of the past. For Asian Americans to become included in those SFFA deem worthy enough to have earned their spots at Harvard, it comes at the cost of perpetuating stereotypes such as the model-minority myth, which are ultimately harmful to the Asian American community. SFFA may be willing to include Asian Americans in higher education, but does this inclusion also apply where it does not benefit the white community?

 [13]. See infra notes 73, 7677 and accompanying text.

 [14]. Throughout this Note, the terms “minority” and “white” were chosen to label groups in the admissions process as opposed to terms like “preferred” and “non-preferred” applicants or any other potential distinction. This is not to say that the admissions experience of all white applicants or all minority applicants is the same.

 [15]. See Matsuda, supra note 5, at 149–50.

 [16]. Adarand Constructors, Inc. v. Pena, 515 U.S. 200, 227 (1995). Strict scrutiny is the most stringent form of judicial review courts use in determining the constitutionality of laws. To pass strict scrutiny, the law must be “narrowly tailored” to achieve a “compelling state interest.” Id. Racial classifications are subject to strict scrutiny, and even where there is non-invidious motive, such as the case for affirmative action, strict scrutiny still applies. See Korematsu v. United States, 323 U.S. 214, 216–24 (1944) (representing the first official use of strict scrutiny for racial classifications, though the Court’s finding that the law was narrowly tailored to a compelling state interest of national security has been criticized for being based on unfounded data provided by the state and was expressly overruled in Trump v. Hawaii, 138 S. Ct. 2392, 2423 (2018)); Adarand, 515 U.S. at 227.

 [17]. Regents of Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265, 311–14 (1978). Justice Douglas’s dissenting opinion in Defunis v. Odegaard, 416 U.S. 312, 321–44 (1974), in which he argued that courts should give deference to educators in admissions policies, set the stage for Justice Powell’s opinion in Bakke. See Bakke, 438 U.S. at 311–14. The extent to which diversity would be able to apply as a compelling government interest to other areas outside of public education is uncertain. Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 329 (2003) (“We have long recognized that, given the important purpose of public education and the expansive freedoms of speech and thought associated with the university environment, universities occupy a special niche in our constitutional tradition.”).

 [18]. Bakke, 438 U.S. at 323.

A farm boy from Idaho can bring something to Harvard College that a Bostonian cannot offer. Similarly, a black student can usually bring something that a white person cannot offer. The quality of the educational experience of all the students in Harvard College depends in part on these differences in the background and outlook that students bring with them.

Id.

 [19]. Id. at 310, 315–17. A quota system using proportional representation to remedy a historical deficit was considered unconstitutional because racial balancing is unequal on its face. Acting as a counter-effect to societal discrimination is a valid reason, but it is not narrowly tailored enough to justify the unfairness to an “innocent” applicant. Id. at 308–09. 

 [20]. Id. at 316–18. “As the Harvard plan described by Justice Powell recognized, there is of course ‘some relationship between numbers and achieving the benefits to be derived from a diverse student body, and between numbers and providing a reasonable environment for those students admitted.’” Grutter, 539 U.S. at 336 (citing Bakke, 438 U.S. at 323).

 [21]. Grutter, 539 U.S. at 325. (“[W]e endorse Justice Powell’s view that student body diversity is a compelling state interest that can justify the use of race in university admissions.”).

 [22]. Id. at 328. Educational benefits of diversity include cross-racial understanding helping to break down racial stereotypes, livelier classroom discussion, better preparation for a diverse workforce and marketplace, and the creation of a military officer corps better suited to properly provide national security. Id. at 330–33. In Grutter, much of the support for the University of Michigan Law School’s compelling interest claim was “bolstered by its amici, who point to the educational benefits that flow from student body diversity.” Id. at 330.

  The Court cites to Plyler v. Doe, 457 U.S. 202, 221 (1982) and Brown v. Board of Education, 347 U.S. 483, 493 (1954) in acknowledging the Court’s emphasis on education as fundamental in “sustaining our political and cultural heritage” as well as the “foundation of good citizenship.” Grutter, 539 U.S. at 331. However, the Court fails to address the anti-subordination values of Plyler and Brown and simply focuses on the instrumental values of allowing an educational institution to create a policy that promotes a goal of diversity.

 [23]. Grutter, 539 U.S. at 330–33.

 [24]. Id. at 340.

 [25]. Id. at 318.

 [26]. Id. at 328.

The Law School’s educational judgment that such diversity is essential to its educational mission is one to which we defer. . . . Our scrutiny of the interest asserted by the Law School is no less strict for taking into account complex educational judgments in an area that lies primarily within the expertise of the university. Our holding today is in keeping with our tradition of giving a degree of deference to a university’s academic decisions, within constitutionally prescribed limits.

Id.

  This deference only applies to the question of whether the specific institution finds diversity to be part of its own interest, not whether diversity itself is a compelling interest. This deference also does not apply to whether the means chosen to obtain the diversity are narrowly tailored.

 [27]. Id. at 337–38.

 [28]. Id. at 339 (“Narrow tailoring does not require exhaustion of every conceivable race-neutral alternative. Nor does it require a university to choose between maintaining a reputation for excellence or fulfilling a commitment to provide educational opportunities to members of all racial groups.”).

 [29]. Id. The Supreme Court reasoned that the district court’s criticism of the law school for failing to consider race-neutral alternatives such as “using a lottery system” or de-emphasizing the importance of GPA and LSAT scores for all applicants was unfounded because “these alternatives would require a dramatic sacrifice of diversity, the academic quality of all admitted students, or both.” Id. at 339–40.

 [30]. Fisher v. Univ. of Tex. at Austin, 570 U.S. 297 (2013) (Fisher I); Fisher v. University of Tex. at Austin, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (Fisher II). In Fisher I, after being denied admission to the University of Texas at Austin, Abigail Fisher challenged the university’s admissions policy. Fisher I, 570 U.S. at 306–07. She did not qualify for the university’s Top Ten Percent Plan, which guaranteed admission to the top 10 percent of every in-state, high school graduating class. Id. at 304–05. For the remaining spots, the university’s admissions policy considered several factors, with race being one of them. Id. Fisher I centered around Abigail Fisher’s challenge of University of Texas’s use of race-conscious admissions as a violation of the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. Id. The Supreme Court in Fisher I held that the appellate court erred by not properly applying the strict scrutiny standard because narrow tailoring requires a showing that no race-neutral alternative was available and remanded the matter. Id. at 311–15. Fisher II then determined the constitutionality of the admissions policy based on the findings from the university on what race-neutral alternatives were plausible. Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2198. 

 [31]. Fisher I, 570 U.S. at 312 (“Although ‘[n]arrow tailoring does not require exhaustion of every conceivable race-neutral alternative,’ strict scrutiny does require a court to examine with care, and not defer to, a university’s ‘serious, good faith consideration of workable race-neutral alternatives.’” (citing Grutter, 539 U.S. at 339–40)).

 [32]. Id. (“The reviewing court must ultimately be satisfied that no workable race-neutral alternatives would produce the educational benefits of diversity.”).

 [33]. Fisher I, 570 U.S. at 314–15 (“[A] university must make a showing that its plan is narrowly tailored to achieve the only interest that this Court has approved in this context: the benefits of a student body diversity . . . . and the case is remanded for further proceedings consistent with this opinion.”); Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2208 (“Fisher I set forth these controlling principles, while taking no position on the constitutionality of the admissions program at issue in this case.”).

 [34]. Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2211–12 (“[A] university bears a heavy burden in showing that it had not obtained the educational benefits of diversity before it turned to a race-conscious plan.”). As discussed in supra note 30, the University of Texas’s Top Ten Percent Plan (the “Plan”) guaranteed admission to the top 10 percent of every in-state, high school graduating class. Id. at 2205–06. The Plan was introduced by the University of Texas at Austin as a way to improve intra-racial diversity by increasing the amount of diversity within racial groups. Id. The Plan hoped to achieve this by accepting the top 10 percent from every Texas high school given the understanding that the racial and socioeconomic makeup of each school district may not already be diverse. Id.

 [35]. See Grutter, 539 U.S. at 318–20 (“[T]here is no number, percentage, or range of numbers or percentages that constitute critical mass. . . . [C]ritical mass means numbers such that underrepresented minority students do not feel isolated or like spokespersons for their race.” (citations omitted)).

  This is problematic because the “university’s goals cannot be elusory or amorphous—they must be sufficiently measurable to permit judicial scrutiny of the policies adopted to reach them,” while the conception of “critical mass” requires there be no quantitative measure in order to prevent it from appearing like a quota. Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2211. This creates an issue for how to determine when “critical mass” for the purpose of achieving a diversity goal has been achieved.

 [36]. Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2212 (“Though a college must continually reassess its need for race-conscious review, here that assessment appears to have been done with care, and a reasonable determination was made that the University had not yet attained its goals.”).

 [37]. Compare Fisher I, 570 U.S. at 312–15, with Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2210–12.

 [38]. The conception of diversity established in Grutter has shifted slightly because Fisher II introduced the incorporation of intra-racial diversity, noting that “critical mass” may require something besides just a critical mass of each race, specifically, experiences within each race may be considered as well. See Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2110–11. However, the test for diversity has remained the same as it was in Grutter, with specific emphasis on the Court’s continued efforts to give deference to the university’s good faith. Id. at 2211–14.

 [39]. Grutter, 539 U.S. at 325.

 [40]. Id. at 330–32; Stephen M. Rich, What Diversity Contributes To Equal Opportunity, 89 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1011, 1034–36 (2016) (“[I]t begs the question why the Court insisted on drawing such close connections between education and the value of diversity, and does not establish that diversity generally is sufficiently important to sustain the use of racial preferences when the success of a university’s educational mission is not at stake.”).

 [41]. Rich, supra note 40, at 1031–33 (“A more robust verification requirement, however, would have risked undermining the value of academic freedom that has provided the foundation for the Court’s diversity rationale.”); see also Grutter, 539 U.S. at 318–20.

 [42]. See Rich, supra note 40, at 1031–46. The goal of diversity may go beyond just a “critical mass” of racially and ethnically diverse individuals toward a goal of creating equal opportunity through the understanding of historical discrimination. If the true goal is to break down racial stereotypes, simply achieving “critical mass” of racial numbers in an attempt to integrate may not be enough. It may require going beyond the racial make-up of an applicant pool toward including diverse faculty, learning methods, and mentorship in order to truly achieve the educational benefits of diversity. Id. The concept of “critical mass” is unstable because the goals of diversity beyond integration may require a decrease in the quantity associated with critical mass. However, it is also argued that Grutter’s formulation of diversity may do more than just promote integration because it embodies anti-subordination values that look to the future in attempting to ensure there is no creation of a second-class status. Id.

 [43]. Id. at 1035–37 (“The current doctrine’s failure to distinguish between exploitative and egalitarian uses of diversity . . . is a direct consequence of this shift; the doctrine now focuses on whether a university’s pursuit of diversity advances the university’s educational mission, not on whether a university’s enrollments reflect an effort to provide equal opportunity.”). The exploitative use of diversity is to simultaneously profit from the educational benefits diversity can provide to a university and buy into the instrumental justification that diversity is only a compelling interest based on what it can contribute to the mission of a university. See id. at 1031–37. The egalitarian use of diversity is to pursue the belief that people deserve equal opportunities. Id. The current doctrine of diversity does not distinguish between these two objectives and places a larger focus on the instrumental value of how a university’s mission can be served by diversity. Id. at 1035–37. This creates an equal opportunity problem because unless diversity is viewed with an understanding of the unique challenges minorities face in education, minorities will not have a fair shot at the admitted student spots. Without equal opportunity to admission at elite universities, each admission spot becomes non-fungible and broken down into spots reserved for whites, African Americans, Asians, etc.

 [44]. See Lauren Camera, A Community Divided: Asian-Americans Are Divided Over an Affirmative Action Case that Argues Harvard Discriminates Against Them, U.S. News & World Rep. (Oct. 12, 2018, 6:00 AM), https://www.usnews.com/news/the-report/articles/2018-10-12/affirmative-action-case-drives-wedge-in-asian-american-community.

 [45]. If the objective is equal outcomes, this may lead to a solely integration-based conception of affirmative action where comparably “equal outcomes” rely on proportionate representation. If this is the case, there may be “equal outcomes” for a racial group, such that the group is represented by a “meaningful number” of individuals, but this fails to take into consideration histories of discrimination and the impact this historical oppression may have on the ability for individuals within groups to achieve “success.” If the objective is equal opportunity, then similarly situated minority groups should receive the same treatment. In order to understand what would create equal opportunities, an anti-subordination principle that takes into account remedial justifications for affirmative action may be necessary. However, this anti-subordination principle may fail to bring about true equal opportunity if the historical discrimination of some groups is not acknowledged or is undervalued. See Reva B. Siegel, Equality Talk: Antisubordination and Anticlassification Values in Constitutional Struggles Over Brown, 117 Harv. L. Rev. 1470, 1472–73, 1532–33 (2004).

  The recognition of a group’s history of discrimination should by no means be used to invalidate or undermine the patterns of oppression that plague other groups. Specifically, it should not be used to claim that Asian Americans have suffered equal oppression as other groups, particularly African Americans, when it is widely understood that Asian Americans do not face the same systematic racism and obstacles faced by African Americans.

 [46]. The ideal would be for affirmative action to be a discussion that includes minority voices to determine what diversity should look like in an admissions process, rather than an all-or-nothing debate. Giving voice to Asian Americans, who have largely been left out of the white–black discussion until recently, is necessary in order to create any solution that would further the goals affirmative action is based upon.

 [47]. Matsuda, supra note 5, at 153–54.

When university administrators have hidden quotas to keep down Asian admissions, this is because Asians are seen as destroying the predominantly white character of the university. Under this mentality, we cannot let in all those Asian over-achievers and maintain affirmative action for other minority groups. We cannot do both because that will mean either that our universities lose their predominantly white character or that we have to fund more and better universities. To either of those prospects, I say, why not? and I condemn the voices from my own community that are translating legitimate anger at ceilings on Asian admissions into unthinking opposition to affirmative-action floors needed to fight racism.

Id.

 [48]. Id. at 149–50.

 [49]. See Pat K. Chew, Asian Americans: The “Reticent” Minority and Their Paradoxes, 36 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 1, 4 (1994).

Asian Americans are a “reticent” minority group. Compared to the other major ethnic groups in this country, for instance, Asian Americans are less politically organized and vocal. Their reticence, combined with other cultural factors, has made it difficult for all Americans—whites, Asian Americans and other minority groups—to understand who Asian Americans are.

Id. at 4–5 (footnotes omitted).

 [50]. Shaun R. Harper, Lori D. Patton & Ontario S. Wooden, Access and Equity for African American Students in Higher Education: A Critical Race Historical Analysis of Policy Efforts, 80 J. Higher Educ. 389, 397 (2009).

 [51]. Dana Takagi, The Retreat from Race: Asian-American Admissions and Racial Politics 21–22 (1992). From 1976 to 1982, enrollment increased nationwide by 1.3% for African Americans, 5% for whites, 32% for Hispanic Americans, and 62% for Asian Americans. Id. at 21.

 [52]. Id. at 77–78.

 [53]. For detailed discussion of the Harvard Plan, see supra note 20 and accompanying text.

 [54]. Id. at 51. Asian Americans began challenging admissions policies at elite universities nationwide, including Brown, Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, and UC Berkeley, but have yet to see any concrete judicial success. Id. at 23–51.

 [55]. E.g., Brief for Asian Am. Legal Def. & Educ. Fund et al. as Amici Curiae Supporting Respondents, Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (No. 14-981); Brief for Asian Ams. Advancing Justice et al. as Amici Curiae Supporting Respondents, Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (No. 14-981); Brief for 39 Undergraduate and Graduate Student Orgs. within the Univ. of Cal. as Amici Curiae Supporting Respondents, Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (No. 14-981).

 [56]. Brief for the Asian Am. Legal Found. & the Asian Am. Coal. for Educ. et al. as Amici Curiae Supporting Petitioner at 23–28, Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (No. 14–981) (discussing studies and anecdotal evidence to support the claim that Asian Americans are frequently discriminated against in the application of the SAT test score standard though none of these reported included references or data to University of Texas at Austin).  

 [57]. The model minority myth underscores institutional racism because it pins Asian Americans as successful in comparison to other minorities. It perpetuates an assumption that all minorities face the same experiences and barriers to success when it is clear that they do not. While some Asian Americans may have found success in America, it is in no way due to some inherent “Asian quality” that makes them more likely to succeed. To compare Asian Americans against other minorities is to discount the very real, lingering effects of slavery, Jim Crow laws, and mass incarceration that do not create obstacles for Asian Americans the same way they do for African Americans. Asian American successes are de-emphasized when those successes are attributed to simply being Asian and not from the individual’s hard work and sacrifice. When the stereotype is that Asian Americans cannot fail because of something inherent in “being Asian,” their successes appear less impressive. When one hears that the valedictorian of a high school is Asian American, and the response is “of course” as opposed to hearing that the valedictorian is white, then that Asian American valedictorian is harmed by some perception of the model minority myth. For further discussion of the model minority myth, see Kat Chow, ‘Model Minority’ Myth Again Used as a Racial Wedge Between Asians and Blacks, NPR: Code Switch (April 19, 2017, 8:32 AM), https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2017/04/19/524571669/model-minority-myth-again-used-as-a-racial-wedge-between-asians-and-blacks.

 [58]. Asian Americans were the first group of immigrants to be explicitly excluded from the United States, with the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Yuning Wu, Chinese Exclusion Act, Encyclopedia Britannica (Nov. 13. 2013), https://www.britannica.com/topic/Chinese-Exclusion-Act. Then, Japanese immigration was specifically restricted in the Gentleman’s Agreement in 1907, and the 1924 Immigration Act barred immigrants from several other Asian countries. Univ. of Del., Comparison of Asian Populations During the Exclusion Years & Summary of Key Laws Regarding the Immigration and Citizenship of Asians in the United States (2006), http://www1.udel.edu/readhistory/resources/2005_2006/summer_06/hsu.pdf [hereinafter Summary of Key Laws].

 [59]. See generally United States v. Thind, 261 U.S. 204 (1923) (holding Asian Indians were not eligible to apply for U.S. citizenship); Ozawa v. United States, 260 U.S. 178 (1922) (holding Japanese were not eligible to apply for U.S. citizenship).

 [60]. Summary of Key Laws, supra note 58.

 [61]. United States v. Wong Kim Ark, 169 U.S. 649, 705 (1898).

 [62]. Regan v. King, 49 F. Supp. 222 (N.D. Cal. 1942) (plaintiff argued for United States v. Wong Kim Ark to be overruled and the removal of all individuals of Japanese ancestry born in the United States from voter rolls).

 [63]. The Supreme Court did not strike down anti-miscegenation laws, which applied to Asian Americans, as unconstitutional until Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1, 12 (1967). The “separate but equal” doctrine’s application to Asian Americans was sanctioned by the Supreme Court in Gong Lum v. Rice, 275 U.S. 78, 87 (1927) (allowing Mississippi to prevent a Chinese student from enrolling at an all-white school).

 [64]. Brian Niiya, The Last Alien Land Law, Densho Blog (Feb. 7, 2018), https://densho.org/last-alien-land-law. The large-scale economic disenfranchisement of Asian Americans was fueled by an increased threat of Asian competition in farming. Amy K. Buck, Alien Land Laws: The Curtailing of Japanese Agricultural Pursuits in Oregon 1–4 (1999) (unpublished M.A. thesis, Portland State University), https://pdxscholar.library.pdx.edu/open_access_etds/3988. These Alien Land Laws exacerbated the negative effects of the Japanese internment because many of the Japanese Americans were unable to own their land, so their land was taken from them by the time they returned from the internment camps. Id.

 [65]. Yick Wo v. Hopkins, 118 U.S. 356, 373–74 (1886) (facially race-neutral law applied in racially prejudicial manner violated Fourteenth Amendment). The San Francisco ordinance made it illegal to operate a laundry in a wooden building without a permit, but the Board of Supervisors had discretion in determining to whom to grant permit. Id. at 357–59. Of the 320 laundries at the time, about 95% of them were operated in wooden buildings, and approximately two-thirds of those laundries were owned by Chinese people. See id. at 358–59. The Board of Supervisors denied all two hundred applications that were submitted by Chinese owners. Id. at 359. At the same time, virtually all of the non-Chinese applicants were granted a permit with the exception of one applicant. Id.

 [66]. The Supreme Court upheld Executive Order 9066 in Korematsu v. United States, 323 U.S. 214, 223–24 (1944), which authorized the internment of more than 120,000 people of Japanese descent, two-thirds of which were U.S. citizens. Executive Order 9066 was signed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt on February 19, 1942. Id. at 226–27. Japanese Americans were given between 48 hours to one week to pack one bag and report to an assembly center. Exploration: Japanese-American Internment, Digital History, http://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/active_learning/explorations/japanese_internment
/internment_menu.cfm (last visited Jan. 3, 2019). From there, they were sent to internment camps that were “surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards.” Id. The Japanese Americans were detained in these camps for three to four years and given a mere $25 upon their release. Ron Grossman, Flashback: When Japanese-Americans Were Sent to Internment Camps, Chi. Trib. (Feb. 9, 2017), https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/commentary/ct-japanese-internment-camps-war-trump-roosevelt-flashback-perspec-0212-jm-20170208-story.html. There were zero reported incidents of traitorous activity by Japanese Americans during this time, despite the government using this to support their “military necessity” justification. Bill Ong Hing, Lessons to Remember from Japanese Internment, Huffington Post (Apr. 22, 2012), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/bill-ong-hing/lessons-to-remember-from-_b_1285303.html. The compelling government interest of “military necessity” was later found to be based on unsubstantiated facts after a group of young Asian American attorneys filed a writ of coram nobis. Dale Minami: A Chance of a Lifetime, Fred T. Korematsu Inst. (Jan. 6, 2009), http://www.korematsuinstitute.org/news/dale-minami-a-chance-of-a-lifetime. Over forty years later, reparations of $20,000 and a formal apology were awarded to survivors, though most of those who had been interned were deceased by this time. Id. The Japanese internment is important because it reveals a lot about the nature and dangers of anti-Asian prejudice creating a stereotype of Asians as a “perpetual foreigner.” It begs the question of whether the mass imprisonment of U.S. citizens would have been executed against other groups who are not stigmatized by the concept of “foreignness.” Roger Daniels, Concentration Camps: North America—Japanese in the United States and Canada During World War II, at xvi (Robert E. Krieger Publ’g Co. 1981) (1971) (“[T]he legal atrocity which was committed against the Japanese Americans was the logical outgrowth of over three centuries of American experience, an experience which taught Americans to regard the United States as a white man’s country.”). 

 [67]. For this hate crime, the two men received three years of probation and a fine of $3,780 each, which sparked a movement toward political awareness and advocacy for the Asian American community. Lynette Clemetson, A Slaying in 1982 Maintains Its Grip on Asian-Americans, N.Y. Times (June 18, 2002), https://nyti.ms/2lqriDq.

 [68]. Acquittal in Doorstep Killing of Japanese Student, N.Y. Times (May 24, 1993), https://nyti.ms/2GK2ZuK. Hattori was attempting to attend a party with a fellow student, but they knocked on the wrong door. Hattori v, Peairs, 662 So. 2d 509, 511–13 (La. 1995). The owner of that property shot Hattori, but claimed it was in self-defense because he was reasonable to view Hattori as a threat. Id.

 [69]. See Chew, supra note 49, at 59 n.263 (“What if Hattori was black? One wonders if American society is more likely to attend to black/white confrontations than to confrontations between other groups.”). Had Hattori been white, would the jury be more likely to find this story unreasonable? Id. at 59. Does it make the fear the owner felt more reasonable because Hattori was Japanese? If Hattori was black, would the jury be more likely to be receptive to claims that it was the owner’s racism that made him fear Hattori and not a reasonable fear? We cannot be fooled into thinking that “reasonableness” is an objective standard when it is clearly influenced by what that jury views as reasonable, all of which is permeable to racism and negative stereotypes. Id.

 [70]. See U.S Comm’n on Civil Rights, Civil Rights Issues Facing Asian Americans in the 1990s 46 (1992).

 [71]. This is not to say that Asian Americans face the largest number or most violent hate crimes. It is attempting to bring attention to current manifestations of prejudice against Asian Americans that often go unreported or unacknowledged. Jenny J. Chen, First-Ever Tracker of Hate Crimes Against Asian-Americans Launched, NPR (Feb. 17, 2017), https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2017/02/17
/515824196/first-ever-tracker-of-hate-crimes-against-asian-americans-launched.

 [72]. Chen, supra note 71; Anti-Asian Hate Crimes in Los Angeles Surge After Trump Deems China an Enemy, Asian Am. Advancing Just. (Jan. 30, 2017), https://advancingjustice-aajc.org/news/anti-asian-hate-crimes-los-angeles-surge-after-trump-deems-china-enemy; Kamal S. Kalsi, Xenophobia Towards Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders Persists Under Trump Administration, Huffington Post (June 2, 2017), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/xenophobia-towards-asian-americans-and-pacific-islanders-persists-under-the-trump-administration_us_592f1075e4b09ec37c313e66.

 [73]. Asian Americans are perceived as “perpetual foreigners.” This stems from Asian Americans arriving in America as immigrants, much like other ethnic groups. However—unlike European immigrants and, to some extent, Hispanic American immigrants—Asian Americans’ facial characteristics cannot provide them any possibility of being “white-passing.” In addition, Asian culture is often seen as exotic and not assimilable to American culture.

                My mother’s family has lived in the United States for three generations; her own parents barely spoke Japanese and had never been to Japan. Yet I continue to get asked “why is your English so good?” or “where are you really from?” as though I am not equally as American as a fourth-generation immigrant from a European country. How often are those questions asked of a white person or even an African American person? 

  I recognize that many of these issues are not unique to Asian Americans. For example, Middle Eastern Americans and, to some extent, Hispanic Americans also do not have the benefit of being “white-passing” or being viewed as part of American culture.

  The caveat of being “foreign” means Asian Americans are accepted into American society so long as they don’t pose a threat. The minute the country of their ancestors does something “against America,” they are no longer American, they are Japanese or Chinese, or in the current climate, Muslim.

 [74]. Matsuda, supra note 5, at 150. Asian Americans act as a “racial bourgeoisie” because they are never going to be “white enough” to be white, but other people of color view them as too privileged to truly be considered minorities. This means that Asian Americans are neither accepted by whites nor people of color. See Emily S. Zia, Note, What Side Are We On? A Call to Arms to the Asian American Community, 23 Asian Am. L.J. 169, 169–75 (discussing her experience as an Asian American trying to participate in a “die-in” as part of a “Boalt With Ferguson” protest at UC Berkeley School of Law) (“All of these events made me feel like the other students of color did not view Asian Americans as allies, let alone people of color. . . . [W]hy did my fellow students of color view us as closer to White than to Black?”). Although her point about being viewed as closer to white than African American is valid, it is important to make clear that it is not Asian Americans’ place to intrude on an experience that does not affect them the same way it does African Americans. The goal is not to tell African Americans how to lead a Ferguson protest, but there should be room to include those who are willing to be active listeners. The danger of being in a racial middle ground is that Asian Americans are often excluded from the discussion, but it also means Asian Americans have a powerful position to effect change.

 [75]. Frank H. Wu, Yellow: Race in American Beyond Black and White 58 (2002) (“DePaul University law professor Sumi Cho has explained that Asian Americans are turned into ‘racial mascots’ giving right-wing causes a novel messenger, camouflaging arguments that would look unconscionably self-interested if made by whites about themselves.”); William C. Kidder, Negative Action Versus Affirmative Action: Asian Pacific Americans Are Still Caught in the Crossfire, 11 Mich. J. Race & L. 605, 621 (2006); Chew, supra note 49, at 66.

 [76]. See generally Claire Jean Kim, The Racial Triangulation of Asian Americans, 27 Pol. & Soc’y 105 (1999) (explaining racial triangulation). Racial triangulation is the concept of having “foreignness” and “superiority” on x-y axes. Id. at 107–08. Whites and African Americans are on opposite ends of the “superiority” y-axis spectrum but at the lowest end of the x-axis “foreignness,” while Asian Americans are on the peak of “foreignness” and lie in the middle on the “superiority” axis. Id. This creates a triangle that place Asian Americans in a racial bourgeoisie between whites and African Americans that no amount of success (attributable to the model minority myth) can overcome due to the conception of foreignness. Id. The use of this racial triangulation may be used to benefit conservative groups looking to preserve a “white image” and create a pitting of racial minorities against each other in order to maintain political dominance. Id. at 122–23.

This payoff is so rich that conservatives have actually manufactured conflicts between Blacks and Asian Americans in order to achieve it. . . . [In the 1980s, conservative affirmative action opponents] shifted public debate from the real issue at hand—whether or not several leading universities imposed racial quotas on Asian American students to preserve the whiteness of their student bodies—to the false issue of whether affirmative action programs designed to benefit Blacks and Latinos unfairly discriminated against Asian Americans.

Id.

 [77]. The concept of Asian Americans as perpetual foreigners has occurred throughout history and continues to exist in American culture. Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 U.S. 537, 561 (1896) (Harlan, J., dissenting) (“There is a race so different from our own that we do not permit those belonging to it to become citizens of the United States. Persons belonging to it are, with few exceptions, absolutely excluded from our country. I allude to the Chinese race.”); Schutte v. Coal. to Defend Affirmative Action, 572 U.S. 291, 381 (2014) (Sotomayor, J., dissenting).

Race matters to a young woman’s sense of self when she states her hometown, and then is pressed, “No, where are you really from?”, regardless of how many generations her family has been in the country. Race matters to a young person addressed by a stranger in a foreign language, which he does not understand because only English was spoken at home. Race matters because of the slights, the snickers, the silent judgments that reinforce that most crippling of thoughts: “I do not belong here.”

Schutte, 572 U.S. at 381.

 [78]. This was seen during World War II, where Italian and German Americans were not conflated with their ancestor country to the same extent as Japanese Americans, who were placed in internment camps. Asian Americans are easy targets for this type of discrimination because they are seen as different and inherently un-American. It brings into question whether this is something that Muslim Americans and Middle Eastern Americans face in twenty-first century America.

 [79]. It is intentional that the term is “model minority” and not “model American.” See Chew, supra note 49, at 32–35.

 [80]. Gabriel J. Chin et al., Beyond Self-Interest: Asian Pacific Americans Toward a Community of Justice, a Policy Analysis of Affirmative Action, 4 UCLA Asian Pac. Am. L.J. 129, 149 (1996) (“[Asian Americans] generally have more individuals contributing to household income than the national average . . . .”). Asian Americans also tend to live in geographic areas that tend to have higher costs of living and above-average incomes for all residents, indicating that Asian Americans are no more successful than any other race. Id. Immigration laws historically favored highly-educated Asian professionals, which greatly influenced the Asian immigrant demographics, which could affect the average income levels and perceived socioeconomic mobility of Asian Americans. Id. at 150.

 [81]. See supra notes 6768.

 [82]. See Chin et al., supra note 80, at 154 (discussing how Asian Americans are “under-parity” in numerous fields and would not have their current representation in those areas without the aid of affirmative action policies).

 [83]. Kimberly West-Faulcon, Obscuring Asian Penalty with Illusions of Black Bonus, 64 UCLA L. Rev. Disc. 590, 629 n.153 (2017).

My point is that accusing Harvard of racial balancing is a promising means of convincing the federal court to strike down the institution’s racial affirmative action policy but, if Harvard admissions officials have an either conscious or unconscious enrollment limit they are inclined to impose on Asian American enrollment to preserve Harvard’s predominantly white character, eliminating racial affirmative action will neither expose or rectify that type of anti-Asian bias in admissions.

Id.; Jerry Kang, Negative Action Against Asian Americans: The Internal Instability of Dworkin’s Defense of Affirmative Action, 31 Harv. C.R.-C.L. L. Rev. 1, 14–18 (discussing that negative action rather than affirmative action is the main source of any limits in admissions for Asian Americans).

 [84]. Jaweed Kaleem, Asian Americans Are Divided After the Trump Administration’s Move on Affirmative Action, L.A. Times (Aug. 3, 2017), http://www.latimes.com/nation/la-na-asian-americans-affirmative-action-20170803-story.html (“Affirmative action opponents often cite a 2009 study that found Asian Americans had to score 140 points higher on SAT exams in order to be on equal footing with whites in private university admissions—a difference they sometimes call the ‘Asian tax.’”) (“But the test score phenomenon exists regardless of whether the university considers race in its admission. So there is something else happening.”) (quoting Asian Americans Advancing Justice Attorney Nicole Gon Ochi).

 [85]. Id.

This is primarily about conservative leaders protecting the privilege of access to society’s resources and opportunities for certain white constituents . . . . Such leaders’ purported concern for discrimination against Asian Americans is politically opportunistic. . . . I don’t see many of them concerned about discrimination against Asian Americans in other contexts . . . such as the “bamboo ceiling” in corporate America, where such discrimination does not harm white interests.

Id. (quoting Professor Kim Forde-Mazrui, University of Virginia School of Law).

 [86]. Carolyn Chen, Opinion, Asians: Too Smart for Their Own Good?, N.Y. Times (Dec. 19, 2012), https://nyti.ms/2jKMeQF (“For middle-class and affluent whites, overachieving Asian-Americans pose thorny questions about privilege and power, merit and opportunity. Some white parents have reportedly shied away from selective public schools that have become ‘too Asian,’ fearing that their children will be outmatched.”). For the Harvard class of 2022, the numbers are approximately 23% Asian and 47% white. Harvard Admitted Students Profile, Harv. C.: Admissions & Fin. Aid, https://college.harvard.edu
/admissions/admissions-statistics (last visited Jan. 21, 2019).

 [87]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 1. The action is being brought under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 because Harvard College is a private university and would not be subject to constitutional challenges under the Equal Protection Clause. However, because Harvard College accepts federal funding, it is subject to the statutory obligations under Title VI. Education and Title VI, U.S. Dep’t of Educ., https://www2.ed.gov/about/offices/list/ocr/docs/hq43e4.html (last updated Sept. 25, 2018); see also Complaint, supra note 7, at 94.

 [88]. Alexander v. Sandoval, 532 U.S. 275 (2001) (deciding that Title VI regulations did not include a private right of action based on evidence of disparate impact).

  It seems the Court will likely allow a private right of action under Title VI. See generally Lau v. Nichols, 414 U.S. 563 (involving the Court allowing a private right of action under Title VI to non-English speaking Chinese students seeking relief against the San Francisco School District, but the existence of a private right of action was never disputed in this case); Regents of Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265 (1978) (involving four justices assuming, without deciding, that a private right of action was available under Title VI, one justice denying a private right of action could be implied, and the remaining four justices concluding that the private action was available).

 [89]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 3–5, 100–01. 

 [90]. Id. at 8. When the complaint was filed, the unnamed applicant was the only Standing Member (other than his father). Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *37 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018). SFFA has since added additional members to the suit, including several that it identified as “Standing Members,” several of whom were Asian American applicants rejected from Harvard. Id. These members filed affidavits and testified in court stating they would be able and ready to transfer if Harvard ceases using race-conscious admissions. Id. at *39–41. Harvard alleged that the Standing Members ability to challenge has become moot because they are now ineligible to transfer or no serious intention to. However, based on the testimony of two Standing Members still eligible for transfer, the court found there was enough to support SFFA’s associational standing. Id. at *41. 

 [91]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 8. It is of note that the plaintiff is unnamed, and the suit is being brought on behalf of an organization that is claiming to represent the interests of its members, including the unnamed plaintiff. Whether the Supreme Court will determine SFFA has standing to bring the suit is uncertain since equal protection is generally to provide individual relief and all other affirmative action cases have been brought by named individuals rather than a curated “litigation vehicle.” Defendant’s Motion for Summary Judgment at 1, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018), ECF No. 417. According to Adarand Constructors, Inc. v. Pena, 515 U.S. 200, 224 (1995), the right to equal opportunity is a personal right, so what matters is the treatment of the individual plaintiff not the average Asian American plaintiff. However, the district court denied Harvard’s motion for summary judgment based on lack of standing. See SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *41. There is skepticism that using one unnamed Asian American plaintiff shows Asian Americans are being manipulated in an effort to eliminate affirmative action on behalf of a non-Asian American membership. While this may have merit, it is also important that the concerns voiced by Asian Americans not be dismissed by supporters of affirmative action simply because they are being wielded by a group like SFFA.

 [92]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 8.

 [93]. SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *16–23 (describing the undisputed facts regarding the Harvard admissions process).

 [94]. Id. at *18–21.

 [95]. Id. at *20. The assessment of an applicant’s personal rating is subject to racial bias if unconscious stereotypes are able to affect an officer’s view of whether a candidate possesses these traits.

 [96]. Id. at *20–21. By not having a specific formula, there is a possibility that some categories may be given more weight than others. While it may be useful to allow a university to have discretion to view every candidate holistically, there may be reason for skepticism if there is a large disparity between the overall ratings given to Asian Americans and what the summed total of their other ratings would have been. If Asian Americans were to score higher than white applicants in the other categories, including extracurricular, personal, and interview ratings, but still receive lower overall ratings, it may be an indication that Asian Americans’ race negatively affects how they are viewed overall.

 [97]. Id. at *22–23.

 [98]. Id. at *28–31. Is the reason for Asian American admission decreasing with the consideration of non-academic variables truly due to Asian Americans only being good at academics or is it because their other traits and activities are undervalued in comparison to other racial groups?

 [99]. Id. at *30. If the only difference accounting for the higher admittance rates of non-legacy, non-athlete white applicants is the personal rating, it begs the question of whether white applicants receive a biased preference over Asian American applicants based on amorphous personal traits that may be subject to cultural differences.

 [100]. Id. at *30–31.

 [101]. Id. at *26.

 [102]. Id. at *26–27.

 [103]. Id. at *27–28.

 [104]. Anemona Hartocollis, He Took on the Voting Rights Act and Won. Now He’s Taking on Harvard, N.Y. Times (Nov. 19, 2017), https://nyti.ms/2jFMkOb.  

 [105]. Id. Blum chose the University of Texas at Austin, his own alma mater, as the subject of the challenge. Id. Abigail Fisher was the daughter of Blum’s friend. Id.

 [106]. Id. The Voting Rights Act of 1965 was a response to the deep-rooted history of discrimination in voting. Shelby County v. Holder, 570 U.S. 529, 529–30 (2013). The Act required certain “eligible” districts with a history of voting discrimination to gain official authorization before they could enact any changes to their election laws. Id. at 537–39. To gain authorization, these districts had to prove that the new changes did not have the purpose nor the effect of negatively impacting any individual’s right to vote based on their race. Id. The Supreme Court determined that this Section of the Act was unconstitutional because it imposes current burdens that are no longer responsive to the current conditions of the voting districts. Id. at 555–57.

  Blum’s challenge of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was rooted in his experience in losing a race for Congress in Houston as a Republican. Hartocollis, supra note 104. He was bothered by the district’s “tortured shape, designed to make it easier for a minority candidate to win the seat.” Id.

  Affirmative action sits in a uniquely similar position to the Voting Rights Act of 1965 in that it may be vulnerable to accusations of unconstitutionality based on a court’s determination that the historical discrimination that created the need for such protections are no longer a concern.

 [107]. Hartocollis, supra note 104.

 [108]. Id.

 [109]. Ellis, supra note 8.

 [110]. Id.

 [111]. Id. It is of note that Justice Kennedy was the swing vote in Fisher II, but he has since been replaced by Justice Brett Kavanaugh. Chas Danner, Brett Kavanaugh Sworn in as 114th Supreme Court Justice, Intelligencer (Oct. 7, 2018), http://nymag.com/intelligencer/2018/10/brett-kavanaugh-sworn-in-as-114th-supreme-court-justice.html.

 [112]. Ellis, supra note 8.

 [113]. See generally Docket, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 1:14-cv-14176 (D. Mass.).

 [114]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., 261 F. Supp. 3d 99, 102 (D. Mass. 2017).

 [115]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 1:14-cv-14176, 2017 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 84656, at *2–3 (D. Mass. June 2, 2017); see also Complaint, supra note 7, at 109–11, 114–19; Ellis, supra note 8.

 [116]. Laura Jarrett, Justice Department. Investigating Harvard Over Affirmative Action Policies, CNN (Nov. 21, 2017), http://cnn.it/2hGzjj7.

 [117]. Merrit Kennedy, Justice Department Threatens to Sue Harvard in Admissions Probe, NPR (Nov. 21, 2017), https://n.pr/2mNx1UY.

 [118]. Id.

 [119]. Kirk Carapezza, DOJ Looks Into Whether Harvard Discriminates Against Asian-Americans, NPR (Aug. 3, 2017), https://www.npr.org/541430130 (“Civil rights groups and legal experts are skeptical. ‘It seems entirely consistent with President Trump’s campaign rhetoric,’ says Tomiko Brown-Nagin, a constitutional law professor at Harvard. Brown-Nagin points out that the Trump administration’s decision to target affirmative action policies comes as racial tensions are rising on many campuses.”).

 [120]. David Shortell, Justice Department Sides With Asian-Americans Suing Harvard Over Admissions Policy, CNN (Aug. 30, 2018), https://cnn.it/2POYxf9 (“The record evidence demonstrates that Harvard’s race-based admissions process significantly disadvantages Asian-American applicants compared to applicants of other racial groups—including both white applicants and applicants from other racial minority groups . . . .” (quoting United States’ Statement of Interest in Opposition to Defendant’s Motion for Summary Judgment, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 1:14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018), ECF No. 497)).

 [121]. Id. It is uncertain what impact the DOJ’s involvement will have on the outcome of SFFA v. Harvard or affirmative action in general, though if a federal judge finds Harvard has violated Title VI, the court could order the university to change its admissions policies. Melissa Korn & Nicole Hong, Harvard Faces DOJ Probe Over Affirmative-Action Policies, Wall St. J. (Nov. 21, 2017, 3:12 PM), https://www.wsj.com/articles/harvard-faces-doj-probe-over-affirmative-action-policies-1511260380.

 [122]. Foussianes, supra note 7.

 [123]. Expert Report of Peter S. Arcidiacono at 5, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. June 15, 2018), ECF No. 415-1. Professor Arcidiacono has an extensive background in studying admissions decisions in higher education. Id.

 [124]. Expert Report of Richard D. Kahlenberg, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. June 15, 2018), ECF No. 416-1.

 [125]. Report of David Card, Ph.D., Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. June 15, 2018), ECF No. 419-33; see also Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *44–68 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018). Professor Card specializes in labor economics. Colleen Walsh, Attorney Appears Confident Admissions Case Ruling Will Favor Harvard, Harv. Gazette (Nov. 4, 2018), https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2018/11/harvard-attorney-appears-confident-in-admissions-case-ruling.

 [126]. Joan Biskupic, Harvard Affirmative Action Trial Arguments Come to a Close, CNN (Nov. 3, 2018, 10:00 AM), https://cnn.it/2QbHaVw.

 [127]. Foussianes, supra note 7.

 [128]. Id.

 [129]. Joint Statement Regarding the Submission of Trial Briefs at 1, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. Aug. 13, 2018), ECF No. 478.

 [130]. Plaintiff’s Motion for Summary Judgment at 2, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018), ECF No. 412.

 [131]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 3–4.

 [132]. Id.

 [133]. Id.

 [134]. Id. at 4–5 (quoting Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 389 (2003) (Kennedy, J., dissenting)).

 [135]. Id. at 5–6.

 [136]. Id. at 11.

 [137]. Id. at 12–22 (“In 1920, in a letter to William Hocking, a Harvard philosophy professor, President Lowell wrote that the increasing number of Jewish students enrolling at Harvard would ultimately ‘ruin the college’.”). A Harvard alum wrote a letter to President Lowell indicating desires to maintain the school’s “white image” through the reduction of Jewish students, claiming

[t]he Jew is undoubtedly of high mental order, desires the best education he can get CHEAPEST, and is more persistent than other races in his endeavors to get what he wants. It is self evident, therefore, that by raising the standard of marks he can’t be eliminated from Harvard, whereas by the same process of raising the standard “White” boys ARE eliminated.
. . . Are the Overseers so lacking in genius that they can’t devise a way to bring Harvard back to the position it always held as a “white man’s” college?

Id. at 17–18. President Lowell accepted the perpetuation of these stereotypes in order to protect a “white image” that would be achieved through a subjective, “character” based admissions policy that was undoubtedly created with a purpose to discriminate. Id. at 20 (“President Lowell was elated by these changes, realizing that they ‘provided a tremendous opportunity to impose, at long last, the policy of restriction he had favored since 1922.’”).

 [138]. Id.

 [139]. Id. at 28–34.

 [140]. Id. at 34–36. However, the former Dean of Admissions Fred Jewett, explained that the 112-point disparity in average SAT scores of admitted Asian Americans compared to admitted white students were due to “choosing people who bring talents underrepresented in the applicant pool.” Id. at 36. In addition, the current Dean of Admissions, William Fitzsimmons, recognized the slightly stronger academics of Asian Americans as compared to white applicants, but “blamed the disparity in admissions on Asian Americans, as a group, being ‘slightly less strong on extracurricular criteria.’” Id.

 [141]. Id. at 36–37. However, the complaint stipulates that the Office of Civil Rights’s report was highly criticized for allowing “racial balancing” and creating a pretext for intentional discrimination. Id.at 37.

 [142]. See generally Thomas J. Espenshade & Alexandria W. Radford, No Longer Separate, not yet Equal: Race and Class in Elite Admission and Campus Life (2009) (analyzing college admissions data to explore the composition of applicant pools to selective universities).

 [143]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 40–50.

 [144]. Ron Unz, The Myth of American Meritocracy, Am. Conservative, Dec. 2012, at 14.

 [145]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 49–50 (alteration in original).

 [146]. Id. at 53–55 (specifically referencing Table B).

 [147]. Id. at 56–67. Princeton Review, the “leading guide to college admissions,” gives recommendations for Asian American students applying to elite colleges, stating “the more you sound like”

Asian Joe Bloggs . . . an Asian American applicant with a very high math SAT score, a low or mediocre verbal SAT score, high math- or science-related SAT II scores, high math and science grades, few credits in the humanities, few extracurricular activities, an intended major in math or the sciences, and an ambition to be a doctor, an engineer, or a research scientist,

“the more likely admissions officers will be to treat you as part of the ‘Asian invasion’ and reject your application, or at the very least make you compete against other Asian applicants with similar characteristics, rather than against the applicant pool as a whole.” Id. at 57–58. According to Princeton Review, suppressing one’s ethnic background is important to better an Asian American applicant’s chances of acceptance at elite institutions. See id. at 58–59.

If you’re given an option, don’t attach a photograph to your application and don’t answer the optional question about your ethnic background. . . . Do not write your application essay about the importance of your family or the positive/negative aspects of living in two cultures. These are Asian Joe Bloggs topics, and they are incredibly popular. Instead, write about something entirely unrelated to your ethnic background.

Id.

  There is danger in anecdotal testimony because it is based on personal perception and can be susceptible to bias. While the stories told by the individuals and groups in SFFA’s complaint are useful to understand the way a community of applicants may feel and may potentially be accurate reflections of a situation, it should not be considered direct evidence of discrimination in an admissions policy.

 [148]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *43–44 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018).

 [149]. Expert Report of Peter S. Arcidiacono at 1–10, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. June 15, 2018), ECF No. 415-1.

 [150]. SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *43–46.

 [151]. See Walsh, supra note 125 (describing Card’s criticisms and some basis for what other experts in the field may believe the proper modeling choice is) (“Lawyers for Harvard also cited an amicus brief field by 16 economists, including two Nobel laureates and former chair of the Federal Reserve Janet Yellen, who backed Card’s approach and labeled Arcidiacono’s findings ‘implausible.’”). Although Arcidiacono’s model may be subject to criticism, there may also be some bias in Card’s approach which includes factors in his regression that are already subject to racial bias.

 [152].               SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *48.

 [153]. Id. at *49–51.

 [154]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 67–72.

 [155]. This approximation is from when the complaint was originally filed. The admissions statistics are from 2006 to 2014, and the enrollment statistics are from 2003 to 2013. Id. at 67–69 (specifically referencing Table C, Table D, and Table E).

 [156]. Id. at 65–66 (“[T]he proportion of Asian Americans with top SAT scores . . . who sent their scores to the most selective Ivy League schools fell from 39.7 percent in the mid-1990s to only 27.4 percent during the 2008, 2010, and 2012 cycles.”). This could indicate that Asian American applicants believe there is some bias in the application process and choose not to even apply to elite Ivy League schools because the perceived odds are against them despite their top SAT scores.

 [157]. Id. at 70.

 [158]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *51–52 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018).

 [159]. Id. at *52–53.

 [160]. Id. Are Asian Americans more likely to be “lopped” than applicants from other racial groups? If there is evidence that Asian Americans have consistently higher rates of “lopping,” then there may be an indication that Asian Americans receive some negative action when their race is considered.

 [161]. Id. at *53–54.

 [162]. Id. at *54.

 [163]. Id. at *54–55. For SFFA to show a racial quota, stable enrollment numbers may not be enough. It may be necessary for SFFA to show that Asian American application rates substantially increased in comparison to white application rates, but their enrollment stayed the same. Indicating that Asian Americans make up a larger portion of the qualified applicant pool but the same proportion of the admitted class would be more helpful than just stable enrollment rates.

 [164]. Id. at *56.

 [165]. Id. at *57.

 [166]. Id. at *59 (quoting Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 343 (2003)). This is a similar argument to the one made by Edward Blum in Shelby County v. Holder, 133 S. Ct. 2612, 2630–31 (2013), which invalidated the Voting Rights Act of 1965 based on reasoning that the historical discrimination that led to the passage of the act is no longer an issue. See supra note 106 and accompanying text.

 [167]. SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *59–60 (quoting Fisher v. Univ. of Texas at Austin, 136 S. Ct. 2198, 2212 (2016) (Fisher II)).

 [168]. Id. at *61–62.

 [169]. Id. at *62.

 [170]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 72–93.

 [171]. Id. at 72–73. SFFA argues that Harvard fails to give proper weight to these socioeconomic factors in its admissions policy based on the lack of socioeconomic diversity in comparison to racial diversity that exists in its student body. Id. at 76.

 [172]. Id. at 77–78.

 [173]. Id. at 78–81 (“Harvard focuses its recruitment in parts of the country with small numbers of socioeconomically disadvantaged achievers and neglects regions with a significant number of such students. . . . This failure to recruit socioeconomically disadvantaged students is reflected in Harvard’s applicant pool.”).

 [174]. Id. at 81–86. Harvard’s acceptance rate for legacy applicants is “about 30 percent, which is roughly five times the rate at which all other applicants are admitted to Harvard.” Id. at 81. Legacy preferences tend to “give a competitive advantage to mainly white, wealthy applicants, while undermining the chances for admission of socioeconomically disadvantaged and minority applicants.” Id. Harvard’s propensity to give preferences to non-legacy, wealthy donor applicants also gives a competitive advantage to mainly white applicants. Id. at 83 (“Minority students are far less likely to be children of wealthy donors.”).

  This creates a separate discussion about the use of legacy preferences and whether they are merely a thinly-veiled way for universities to give admissions preferences to a group of applicants that tend to be whiter and wealthier than the general applicant pool.

 [175]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *66 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018).

 [176]. Id. at *64–66.

 [177]. Id. at *66–67.

 [178]. See Shelby County v. Holder, 570 U.S. 529, 551–52 (2013) (reevaluating the legality of policies under the lens of their current existence, even if there was a “long history as a tool for perpetuating the evil”).

 [179]. Yick Wo v. Hopkins, 118 U.S. 356, 360 (1886). The constant admission rates of Asian Americans are unlikely to be a severe enough discriminatory impact to allow a presumption of discriminatory intent as it was in Yick Wo, so SFFA will have to find other evidence to indicate Harvard’s intent to discriminate against Asian Americans in their admissions policy. This is a high burden for SFFA to meet. See supra note 65 (describing how all two hundred applications that were submitted by Chinese owners were denied while virtually all of the non-Chinese applicants were granted a permit).

 [180]. See Espenshade & Radford, supra note 142, at 412.

 [181]. Kidder, supra note 75, at 614–16.

The upshot of the fact that White admitees outnumber Blacks/Latinos 3-to-1, and the aforementioned discussion about the composition of actual and likely pool of admitees is that Espenshade and Chung’s study contains a “yellow peril causation fallacy” that misidentifies [Asian Americans] as the group poised to be the biggest numerical winners if affirmative action ended at elite universities. In other words, when an [Asian American] applicant in their dataset is denied admission because of negative action despite a strong transcript and say a 1510 or 1430 or 1360 on the SAT, it is exceedingly more likely that the student admitted instead was a White applicant with slightly lower academic credentials, not a Black or Latino applicant given an affirmative action plus factor.

Id. at 615–16.

 [182]. Is it possible for schools to consider an over-representation of white students? There is a perception that schools can be “too Asian,” damaging the appeal of a university, but the same is not said for schools that are predominately white. Does the conception of over-representation apply the same to other minorities? Because while it seems that our society would be appalled at the prospect of a school being considered “too black” or “too Hispanic,” why doesn’t our society believe calling a school “too Asian” is equally racist?

 [183]. If there was a hypothetical where diversity was deemed not to be a compelling interest and the entire Harvard class consisted only of Asian Americans accepted by “objective” criteria, would SFFA be satisfied with the result? What if the entire Harvard class consisted only of white students? If neither of these outcomes are satisfactory to a society, we cannot deny the compelling interest of diversity and the potential “balancing” required to achieve it.

 [184]. See Fisher v. Univ. of Texas at Austin, 136 S. Ct. 2198, 2211–15 (2016) (Fisher II) (“[A] university bears a heavy burden in showing that it had not obtained the educational benefits of diversity before it turned to a race-conscious plan.”) (“It is the University’s ongoing obligation to engage in constant deliberation and continued reflection regarding its admission policies.”).

 [185]. Chin et al., supra note 80, at 161.

A genuine commitment to class equality would lead one to target resources at an individual’s formative years as with anti-poverty programs that provide adequate housing, nutrition, and education to children. But oddly enough, the programs mentioned so far would instead give mild preferences late in life, in admissions or employment. This should give us cause for skepticism.

Id.

 [186]. Goodwin Liu, The Causation Fallacy: Bakke and the Basic Arithmetic of Selective Admissions, 100 Mich. L. Rev. 1045, 1048 (2002).

 [187]. West-Faulcon, supra note 83, at 594.

 [188]. Liu, supra note 186, at 1048. “Many white students who were denied admission did not lose out because of minority students, but because of tight limits on enrollment. In other words, many qualified white applicants probably would have been turned down even if no minority students had applied.” Id. at 1048 n.13 (quoting John Iwasaki, Affirmative Action Aids White Students Too; Stereotype False, State Study Says, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, Nov. 19, 1995, at A9).

 [189]. Liu, supra note 186, at 1078.

 [190]. Id. at 1064–68 (“[B]lack and white applicants with similar SAT scores might not be similarly situated with respect to nonacademic admissions criteria.”).

 [191]. Id. at 1046.

 [192]. Affirmative action sits within the broader idea of race-conscious admissions, but they are not the same thing. Not all admissions policies that consider race are affirmative action policies. An example of this would be a policy that enables bias against Asian American applicants in comparison to white applicants, thus giving white applicants a type of plus factor over those Asian American applicants. I think Asian Americans could potentially fare better if race-conscious admissions were banned but would not if just affirmative action was due to the causation fallacy. The difference would be that race-conscious admissions have the ability to contain negative action against Asian Americans while affirmative action inherently does not. There is space in this discussion to both remedy the grievances Asian Americans feel through the devaluation of their personal attributes and maintain the affirmative action policies necessary to fulfill the compelling interest of educational diversity.

 [193]. West-Faulcon, supra note 83, at 603.

 [194]. Id. at 604–05 (“[U]niversities do not select students solely based on SAT scores and . . . SAT scores are racially skewed as a general matter.”) (“[F]or reasons that range from the theoretical and measurement limitations of g-based standardized tests like the SAT to the fact that African Americans belong to the racial group that has been most severely harmed by American Jim Crow racism, housing segregation, public educational opportunity gaps, and disparities in economic opportunities.” (footnotes omitted)).

 [195]. See Liu, supra note 186, at 1096. At the very least, we would be better off urging top colleges to commit to genuine educational diversity that places a greater emphasis on different types of diversity like first-generation status, diversity in faculty, and diversity in the types of cultural histories taught at these schools, rather than attacking affirmative action. How often are general education classes taught from the point of view of an African American student or from the perspective of a woman? So often the education system focuses on the accomplishments of white males and fails to recognize the value of a diverse core curriculum, and this affects the way our future leaders exist and shape our society.

 [196]. For example, the “positive” stereotype that Asian Americans are successful works to diminish the success achieved by Asian Americans as expected or ordinary. This requires Asian Americans to be held to a higher standard in comparison to each other in order to stand out. There is a feeling among the Asian American community that one must be extraordinary to just seem average. In addition, a positive stereotype of Asian Americans as hard workers easily becomes translated into Asian Americans being unfair competitors.

 [197]. Chew, supra note 49, at 40–41.

Employers might tend to see Asian Americans as homogeneous and suited for certain defined roles that are consistent with society’s image. . . . While society may consider Asian Americans hard working and intelligent, especially in math, Asian American faculty may be considered “too nice” to be intellectually demanding and rigorous professors and scholars.

Id.

 [198]. Id. at 53.

A comparison of the number of Asian Americans in managerial and professional positions versus the number of Asian Americans with bachelor and graduate degrees evidences this disparity. One would generally expect individuals with bachelor or graduate degrees to hold managerial or professional positions. For example, 23.6 million whites hold bachelor or graduate degrees and, comparably, 26.5 million whites hold managerial or professional positions—a ratio of 1.12. Accordingly, one would expect the number of Asian Americans with this education level to correspond to the number of Asian Americans in these positions. Instead, the number of Asian Americans with these degrees (1.3 million) is significantly higher than the number in managerial or professional positions (1 million)—a ratio of 0.77.

Id. (footnotes omitted).

  This should lead us to question whether the traditional beliefs about what constitutes an exemplary manager or professional are correct. If what we value as an ideal manager has race and gender stereotypes built in, a re-conception of what good leadership qualities are may be necessary. For example, if Asian Americans tend to value humility but our society rewards those who are assertive, are Asian Americans under-promoted because they are less qualified or because our society is not open to the concept that a better manager may be soft-spoken instead of self-promoting? In the educational context, what do we expect from the ideal candidate? Is it possible that the qualities we revere are subject to bias based on racial stereotypes?

 [199]. Id. at 55. There is a stigma that Asian Americans have inherent advantages compared to other minorities that enable them to succeed without deserving it, perpetuating the model minority myth.

 [200]. Id. at 63.

 [201]. Intraracial, Your Dictionary, https://www.yourdictionary.com/intraracial (last visited Jan. 21, 2019).

 [202]. Intraracial diversity is diversity within a race, while interracial diversity is diversity of races. Intraracial, supra note 201; Interracial, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com
/dictionary/interracial (last visited Jan. 21, 2019). Intraracial diversity works to break down racial stereotypes by demonstrating a wide array of experiences within races, while interracial diversity works to take down segregation and inequality of opportunity in the education system. The argument urging for equality in the conception of diversity is separate from wanting intraracial diversity.

 [203]. For example, an Asian American cannot play an instrument, be good at math or science, or want to be a doctor or engineer without being considered “a typical Asian candidate.” Are white applicants allowed to excel in any area without it being considered a byproduct of their racial background? Do we view a white applicant who is a concert pianist, a varsity basketball player, an exceptional painter, or a national merit scholar as creating intra-racial diversity? In addition, when Asian Americans go against racial stereotypes, such as by participating in sports, it is often greeted with skepticism or under-valued. See Ling Woo Liu, Opinion, Why Jeremy Lin’s Race Matters, CNN (Feb. 14, 2012), https://www.cnn.com/2012/02/13/opinion/jeremy-lin-race/index.html (describing how Asian American basketball player Jeremy Lin was met with skepticism based on stereotypes that Asian Americans do not play basketball).

Lin himself has been candid about the racism he’s encountered along the way. “It’s a sport for white and black people,” he told the San Francisco Chronicle in 2008. “You don’t get respect for being an Asian-American basketball player in the U.S. . . . I hear everything. ‘Go back to China. Orchestra is on the other side of campus. Open up your eyes.’”

Id. If the stereotype associated with Asian Americans is one of “overachievement,” is the only way to break down the stereotype to underachieve? See Jeff Yang, Opinion, Harvard Lawsuit Is not what It Seems, CNN (Nov. 4, 2014), http://www.cnn.com/2014/11/24/opinion/yang-harvard-lawsuit/index.html (describing how he would have been denied admission based on his grades but an interviewer made the case that he had intangibles that would be an asset to the student body, though the assets that distinguished him were to be an “underachiever” academically and in stereotypically “Asian” activities) (“What saved my application was the optional interview I’d done on campus, in which I’d ended up talking about everything that wasn’t in my application: My aspirations to be a writer. . . . The fact that I actually really, really suck at piano.”). Although this Note focuses on stereotypes attached to Asian Americans, they are not the only minority group to be adversely affected by negative and positive stereotypes, and they should be questioned for all racial groups. See generally Geoffrey L. Cohen & Julio Garcia, “I Am Us”: Negative Stereotypes as Collective Threats, 89 J. Personality & Soc. Psychol. 566 (2005) (discussing how negative stereotypes of a group impact individuals within that group); Exploring the Negative Consequences of Stereotyping, Univ. of Ariz. News (Nov. 20, 2003), https://uanews.arizona.edu/story
/exploring-negative-consequences-stereotyping (same); Laura Green, Negative Racial Stereotypes and Their Effect on Attitudes Toward African-Americans, Ferris St. U., https://www.ferris.edu/htmls/news
/jimcrow/links/essays/vcu.htm (last visited Jan. 21, 2019) (discussing racial stereotypes of African Americans).

 [204]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 58–59 (describing recommendations that Asian American applicants not write application essays related to their ethnic background). Asian American encompasses many different groups of people and to dismiss the value this diversity could bring to elite universities should be questioned. The immigrant story of an Asian American should not be viewed any less favorably toward a “personal rating” than the story from another applicant.

 [205]. Regents of Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265, 323 (1978).

A farm boy from Idaho can bring something to Harvard College that a Bostonian cannot offer. Similarly, a black student can usually bring something that a white person cannot offer. The quality of the educational experience of all the students in Harvard College depends in part on these differences in the background and outlook that students bring with them.

Id.

 [206]. Bella English, To Get Into Elite Colleges, Some Advised to “Appear Less Asian, Boston Globe (June 1, 2015), https://www.bostonglobe.com/lifestyle/2015/06/01/college-counselors-advise-some-asian-students-appear-less-asian/Ew7g4JiQMiqYNQlIwqEIuO/story.html.

 [207]. Kang, supra note 83, at 15 (“The glib assertion that Asian Americans are ‘overrepresented’ at certain universities is less a description of empirical fact than a value judgment. It presumes that the percentage of Asian Americans at each university should reflect their percentage of the national population.”).

 [208]. Stephan Thernstorm, Farewell to Preferences?, 130 Pub. Int., Winter 1998, at 34, 42–43 (quoting Bob Beckel, CNN Crossfire co-host) (“Would you like to see the UCLA Law School 80 percent Asian? Because at the rate it is going . . . by the year 2007 UCLA will be 80 percent Asian. Will that make you happy?”); Student Quits at U.C.L.A. over Rant, N.Y. Times (March 19, 2011), https://nyti.ms/2q8wlak (describing Alexandra Wallace, a UCLA student, who posted a video complaining about Asians in the library where she stated, “the problem is these hordes of Asian people that U.C.L.A. accepts into our school every single year”); Emma Whitford, When Asians Are Targets of Racism, Inside Higher Educ. (Oct. 11, 2018), https://www.insidehighered.com/news/2018/10/11/anti-asian-messages-spread-washington-university-st-louis (explaining a series of messages between Washington University in St. Louis students with one stating, “[w]hy are Asians invading our study room”).

 [209]. See Matsuda, supra note 5, at 153.

 [210]. For Asian Americans, the model minority myth has created pressure for performance to require “super-achievement.” This norm of “super-achievement” and needing to distinguish oneself from the rest of the Asian American community can be debilitating. To add to this, when Asian Americans are told it is better to not check anything than to check the “Asian box” on a college application, this outward demonstration of society’s lack of acceptance can lead to negative self-image in young Asian Americans. See Jean S. Phinney, The Multigroup Ethnic Identity Measure: A New Scale for Use with Diverse Groups, 7 J. Adolescent Res. 156, 156–57 (1992) (describing that ethnic identity is central to the self-identity of minority individuals); Chew, supra note 49, at 84 (“Many Asian Americans believe that they are more likely to be successfully assimilated into American society if they do not publicly identify their minority status.”). See generally Joan E. Rigdon, Exploding Myth—Asian American Youth Suffer Rising Toll from Heavy Pressures: Suicides and Distress Increase as They Face Stereotypes and Parents’ Expectations, Wall St. J., July 10, 1991, at A1.

 [211]. Chew, supra note 49, at 73 (“They have pinned their hopes for economic survival on individual efforts rather than on collective political activities . . . .”). See generally Michelle Diggles, The Untapped Political Power of Asian Americans, Third Way (Jan. 15, 2015), https://www.thirdway.org/report/the-untapped-political-power-of-asian-americans (describing how and why Asian American political participation has lagged behind other racial and ethnic groups).

 [212]. See Agnes Constante, In California, Asian Americans Find Growing Political Power, NBC News (April 19, 2018, 5:42 AM), https://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/california-asian-americans-find-growing-political-power-n866611 (illustrating the rise in Asian American political participation); Ross Douthat, Opinion, The Asian-American Age: At the Movies and in Court, a Rising Minority Claims the Spotlight, N.Y. Times (Sept. 1, 2018), https://nyti.ms/2MLuEyA (describing Asian American political participation with special focus on affirmative action).

 [213]. Chin et al., supra note 80, at 51.

Pitting racial minority groups against one another represents the worst form of divide-and-conquer political strategy. [Asian Americans] must refuse to believe that they are superior to Whites, non-Whites, or anyone else. . . . History teaches us that not long ago, the exact same criticisms were leveled at us: that we were the stupid, the unassimilable, the depraved, the criminal.

Id. (emphasis in original).

 [214]. Chew, supra note 49, at 88.

 [215]. Chin et al., supra note 80, at 133–34 (posing these same questions to white people). For the first question, Asian Americans can benefit from racial discrimination because while the model minority myth is damaging to Asian Americans, it is also damaging to other minorities by categorizing them as something less than “model.” In addition, Asian Americans benefit from affirmative action, both historically in the education context and continuously, in areas where there is “under-parity” of Asian Americans, such as in many professional contexts. Kidder, supra note 75, at 623–24. For the second question, the systematic and rampant racism against African Americans that stems from several historical factors including slavery, Reconstruction, Jim Crow laws, unequal prison sentencing, and de facto segregation means that the opportunity for the American Dream is not equally available for all minority groups. See Angela Hanks et al., Systematic Inequality: How America’s Structural Racism Helped Create the Black-White Wealth Gap, Ctr. for Am. Progress (Feb. 21, 2018), https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/race/reports/2018/02/21/447051/systematic-inequality. This does not invalidate discrimination felt by Asian Americans but should be clearly understood when considering this question.

 [216]. Chew, supra note 49, at 75; Matsuda, supra note 5, at 153–54.

Book Review: Law and Legitimacy in the Supreme Court by Richard H. Fallon, Jr.

From Volume 92, Postscript (December 2018)
DOWNLOAD PDF


 

 

Toward a Reflective Equilibrium: Making Our Constitutional Practice Safe for Constitutional Theory

Book Review: Law and Legitimacy in the Supreme Court,[*]
Richard H. Fallon, Jr.

André LeDuc[†]

Richard Fallon has written another important book about American constitutional law.[1] Indeed, it brings to mind Hilary Putnam’s definition of a classic: the smarter you get, the smarter it gets. Fallon presents a rich, thick description of our constitutional law and practice and an argument for how we may best continue and improve this practice. While intended to be accessible to a broad readership, Fallon’s arguments cut to the core of much current constitutional scholarship, even while urging us to move past many of these sterile debates. Most importantly, Fallon takes seriously his mission of speaking to the Court, as well as to the academy, and takes a real run at changing how the Justices decide cases and articulate their decisions.[2] He accomplishes all of this in a startlingly concise book, running only 174 pages of text and 36 pages of notes and without even a subtitle.

Fallon sets out to explain the nature of constitutional law, the constitutional disagreements of cases, constitutional argument, and the nature of the legitimacy of Supreme Court decisions and, ultimately, the Court itself. That’s a tall order for a little book, but Fallon can make a claim to have accomplished his mission.

Contemporary constitutional scholarship falls into two dominant styles. Most common are the systematic works. They articulate a unifying theory of the Constitution, prescriptively reinterpreting the nature of our process of constitutional adjudication and resulting constitutional doctrine to create a systematic, unifying account of our constitutional law. These projects are often embodied in dense and lengthy tomes with catchy titles like The Living Constitution,[3] The Invisible Constitution,[4] The Unwritten Constitution,[5] The Flexible Constitution,[6] Living Originalism,[7] and The Classic Liberal Constitution,[8] among others.[9] The second style of analysis is marked by its granularity and attention to the details of constitutional doctrine and the particularity of our constitutional practices. They are rarely self-consciously therapeutic, but they are edifying, urging the reader to enrich her understanding of our constitutional law and practice, not to radically revise her view of what the Constitution says or requires. Prominent examples of such an approach include classics like Charles Fried’s Saying What the Law Is, Laurence Tribe’s Constitutional Choices, and John Hart Ely’s Democracy and Distrust. Fallon undertakes something like the scholarship of this minority, edifying style in Law and Legitimacy, despite its aspirational title. He pursues his task of explaining the nature of constitutional law and legitimacy modestly, eschewing the common practice of discovering (and christening) a new Constitution. He is comfortable acknowledging the ways in which his views have developed and the views that he no longer holds.[10] Fallon’s mastery of the literature is impressive[11] and his treatment of its authors is both penetrating and charitable (sometimes perhaps too charitable).[12]

The infelicities in Fallon’s account are few. Notably, he rarely distinguishes between indeterminacy and underdetermination of legal texts and rules.[13] That’s an important distinction, however. Recognizing that legal authorities are underdetermined is consistent with an account of how the argument and resolution of constitutional controversies are channeled and constrained. These constraints make our practice of constitutional law far less vulnerable to challenges of radical indeterminacy or lawlessness. (Fallon believes that the practice of constitutional law is constrained in this way, so the error is more one of infelicity of expression than of substance.)[14] Sometimes the charity of Fallon’s reading of other scholars work glosses over profound issues. For example, he appears to accept the New Originalists’ move to distinguish constitutional provisions that require only interpretation from those that allow construction without ever questioning whether the two types of provisions can be adequately distinguished and, if not, what the implications of that failure would be for New Originalism.

The richness of Fallon’s argument and analysis requires a reviewer to choose among the important themes of the book. I will engage two principal subjects. First, I focus on what Fallon doesn’t address and suggest what those omissions tell us about the direction of American constitutional legal scholarship in the early twenty-first century. Those omissions generally do not reflect significant gaps in Fallon’s argument. They instead are part of a subtle strategy to redirect our approach to the Constitution and the Court in our Republic. Underlying Fallon’s argument is an implicit account of who’s not who, as it were, in the current pantheon of American constitutional scholarship. But Fallon gracefully (and graciously) does this only by showing how our discourse should proceed, rather than stating his argument that we need not engage these theorists expressly.

Second, I explore the two most important elements of Fallon’s book, his project to move us beyond the current debates about constitutional theories of interpretation and his argument that the Court ought to adopt a process of pursuing a reflective equilibrium in its constitutional decision and constitutional practice in order to enhance the legitimacy of our constitutional law and the Court. The first strategy is commendable, but his proposed path reflects an unstated and misplaced commitment to the logical priority of theory. Fallon purports to articulate an account of constitutional practice, but he cannot cast off a fundamental commitment to the priority of concepts, theory, and interpretation. The second argument for a practice of reflective equilibrium may generate a more plausible account of constitutional adjudication than the dominant models in the legal academy, but Rawlsian reflection—even in the situated, historical, thick sense defended by Fallon—is not likely the path forward in understanding the nature of constitutional decision in adjudication or in enhancing the legitimacy of the Constitution and the Court.

I

Fallon begins his account of law by outlining a theory of legal meaning and legal interpretation. His analysis comprises one of the most detailed parts of the book, reflecting the importance Fallon accords the linguistic meaning of the constitutional text and the importance of interpretation of the text in constitutional adjudication. Fallon has previously explored originalism’s claims about constitutional language and its interpretation in some depth.[15] In his earlier analysis he was more critical of originalism, denying that originalism could be reconciled with our actual practice and emphasizing the inadequacy of originalist approaches to non-originalist precedent.[16] His account is more sympathetic in Law and Legitimacy, although he does not endorse the complete originalist theory. Fallon is more sympathetic to originalism because his own analysis and constitutional theory has moved more deeply into questions of the nature of constitutional language and its interpretation.

Fallon makes Scott Soames’s philosophical analysis of the meaning and interpretation of legal texts a central anchor of his own analysis of constitutional meaning.[17] Soames, along with his former colleague at the University of Southern California Andrei Marmor, is among the leading philosophers of language who have explored the particular issues of meaning in legal texts. Soames argues for a version of an originalist theory he terms deferentialism.[18] In this theory the spare semantic meaning of the text is expressly augmented with the force of its pragmatics and the shared presuppositions that the linguistic community holds.[19] It is a representational account that views language as representing the world.[20] It is also an interpretative account that accords priority to the original linguistic meaning of the constitutional text, not a later linguistic meaning or its purpose, although intent figures as an evidentiary matter in determining the legal text’s meaning.[21] But while Soames recognizes the performative dimension of legal texts, his focus on legal texts as stipulations (assertions that make something so) allows him to focus on the element of assertion in the legal text. It is to the assertions made by legal texts that Soames directs his linguistic philosophical analysis.

For reasons I have defended elsewhere, I think Soames has it backwards: the analysis should begin with what the legal text does, not what it says. The enacting legislature was principally concerned to do something, not to say something. When we begin with what the constitutional text is doing rather than what it is saying, the analysis proceeds differently, without overemphasis upon linguistic meaning. Fallon follows the philosophers into this same error.

Fallon is not concerned to match the academic philosophers of language nuance for nuance, distinction for distinction.[22] He is expressly satisfied to articulate a practical account of meaning.[23] It’s a theory of meaning that’s good enough to use for our constitutional theory. Moreover, Fallon argues that the determination of the nature of constitutional meaning is a matter of our ordinary practice of language and law.[24] Accordingly, Fallon argues, philosophers do not have a persuasive claim to special knowledge with respect to the analysis and description of such meaning.[25] At a more conceptual level, Fallon, like Soames, adopts a representational account of language.[26] Language represents the world and constitutional language represents the Constitution-in-the-world. But that implicit foundation receives little attention in Law and Legitimacy. This commitment is, however, more express in one of the articles preceding Law and Legitimacy, The Meaning of Meaning.[27]

There are alternative, non-representational accounts of language, linguistic meaning, and linguistic truth.[28] Even if we endorse these theories, however, it is not clear that Fallon’s representational theory of language leads his constitutional theory astray. Even if Fallon’s tacit representational account of constitutional language is wrong, because of the limited granularity with which Fallon wants to articulate his account of constitutional meaning and employ it in his account of the Constitution and legitimacy, it is not clear that the error has damaging consequences. Fallon’s account of meaning is employed principally to show the sources and extent of ambiguity, polysemy, and underdetermination of constitutional texts and authorities.[29] Those claims of ambiguity, polysemy, and underdetermination—and the implications of those features of constitutional language—are as applicable to constitutional language understood on a representational theory as of an inferentialist, non-representational theory.[30]

Fallon argues from the ambiguity, polysemy, and underdetermination that he identifies in the meaning of authoritative constitutional texts to a different conclusion than Lawrence Solum and Scott Soames, however. Fallon asserts that such linguistic indeterminacy permits and requires Justices to make choices among potential interpretations and associated decisions. Because the nature of the underdetermination of meaning is so expansive for Fallon, even the New Originalist strategy of distinguishing constitutional texts requiring interpretation and those permitting a more open-ended construction is inadequate to encompass the authorities Fallon wants to recognize and the interpretations he wants to adopt for the decision process he endorses. [31]

Academic concerns with the legitimacy of the Supreme Court and its decisions focused upon two problems in the late twentieth century. The first was the countermajoritarian dilemma. First articulated by Alexander Bickel, the countermajoritarian dilemma asserts that judicial review by an unelected Court is inconsistent with democracy.[32] While some scholars have rejected that challenge, others continue to believe that Bickel articulated a genuine problem in our constitutional theory and practice.[33] The second problem, emphasized by Ronald Dworkin’s response to the dominant positivist jurisprudence,[34] was the role of judicial discretion in constitutional adjudication. Twentieth century constitutional theorists worried that judicial discretion undermined the rule of law and the dominant positivist theory of law. Neither problem figures prominently in Fallon’s analysis of legitimacy. Indeed, to the extent that Fallon welcomes the inevitable role of normative values in constitutional decision, he rejects the positivist premise.[35]

The countermajoritarian dilemma receives only passing attention in Fallon’s account.[36] Although Fallon has explored the countermajoritarian arguments and offered his own proposed solution, he doesn’t apparently think that addressing those issues is particularly important for his contemporary analysis of the legitimacy of the Constitution and the Court. Although he doesn’t expressly explain why the problem of judicial review can be so easily passed over, I think his argument can be reconstructed along the following lines. First, our constitutional practice has accepted and incorporated the practice of judicial review. Judicial review therefore has a sociological legitimacy. Second, judicial review has a moral legitimacy because it is important in protecting constitutionally protected rights.[37] These two sources of legitimacy explain why there is no fundamental problem with judicial review in our democratic republic.

Fallon’s argument reduces the legitimacy of judicial review to these two disjunctive forms. Judicial review also has a legal, constitutional legitimacy that his theory ignores. While that form of legitimacy may be described as sociological because, as a matter of legal positivism, it is a matter of social fact, constitutional and legal legitimacy (I here conflate the two) also have a normative dimension, as captured by H. L. A. Hart’s concept of the internal point of view. The legal legitimacy of our constitutional practice of judicial review is more than a shared social behavior. It is freighted with normative commitments and beliefs, but these are not principally moral commitments and beliefs. It is not clear that these normative commitments are moral commitments. We can imagine a judge or citizen endorsing our practice of judicial review while believing that as a matter of political morality a more direct form of democracy would be preferable.

In light of Fallon’s defense of judicial review, why does he recommend greater deference by the Court to the legislature’s judgment? Fallon grounds his argument for the desirability of greater deference to the legislature on constitutional questions as a matter of enhancing and reinforcing democracy in the Republic. Thus, Fallon appears at once to stand Ely’s defense of the democracy-enhancing judicial activism on its head and to tacitly acknowledge Bickel’s countermajoritarian challenge after having neatly dispatched it.

But both appearances are largely unfair. First, Fallon wants to focus the exercise of greater deference on highly controversial, politicized issues. Matters of procedural fairness—which would encompass much of the Warren Court jurisprudence that Ely wanted to put on a firm foundation—would not be entitled to greater deference on Fallon’s account. While counseling greater deference as a means to enhance and revivify American democracy, Fallon’s does not argue that the exercise of stricter judicial review would be illegitimate. It would, however, prejudice a fuller development of American democracy and compromise the pursuit of democratic legitimacy.[38]

Fallon’s argument would appear to face the celebrated Brown v. Board of Education challenge[39] and would seemingly fail the challenge even more clearly with respect to Bolling v. Sharpe and Loving v. Virginia. Those decisions, striking down state and federal legislation, would not appear to easily satisfy Fallon’s test for a more assertive judicial review. The Court’s efforts, led by Justice Frankfurter, to avoid challenges to state anti-miscegenation statutes for more than a decade after Brown is powerful evidence for this claim. But the price of deference would have been to permit the continued enforcement of statutes that we now almost universally recognize as morally repugnant. Fallon makes it very clear that he endorses Brown as a litmus test for plausible theories of constitutional theories and accounts of the Court’s legitimacy.[40]

Although Fallon thus acknowledges this concern with how he can reconcile his theory with Brown (and expressly asserts his commitment to the decision in Brown), it is not clear how he would reconcile his argument for a more deferential practice of judicial review.[41] He argues, somewhat unpersuasively, that his theory is not meant to discredit Brown. His argument is not persuasive because while his argument might not discredit Brown, once decided, it is hard to see how his call for increased deference could have allowed the Warren Court to have decided Brown as it did and to reject Plessy v. Ferguson. It may be that the importance of the moral commitments that Fallon would include in constitutional argument and to support constitutional decision would allow him an exception to his principle of greater deference.  How do we tell which moral propositions have this constitutional force? I am not sure Fallon explains, and I suspect that an explanation might require him to introduce a discussion of constitutional judgment that would fit only awkwardly into his theoretical account. Alternatively, it may simply be that his call for enhanced judicial deference to the legislature is best heard as a whisper.

Fallon’s analysis of the challenge of legitimacy for the Court and the Constitution focuses less on the academy and more on the polity as a whole. He is less worried with theoretical puzzles like the countermajoritarian dilemma and the scope of judicial discretion than with fundamental questions of when and how the Constitution and the Court provide authoritative legal obligations that are accepted and followed by the citizens.[42] In Hartian terms, he is interested both in when we can say from the external point of view that there is a shared behavior and when we can say from the internal point of view that such shared behavior follows the law. This is a welcome and important move in our constitutional jurisprudence. I don’t know if the legitimacy of the Court and the Constitution are more in question than they were in the wake of either the Dred Scott or Brown decisions, but the nature of the confirmation process for many recent nominees to the Court and our constitutional rhetoric certainly reveal significant live questions about legitimacy.

Fallon’s account of the moral legitimacy of the Court and the Constitution does not expressly address the challenge of moral relativism, but it is arguably compatible with it. Moral relativism challenges the claim that moral obligations are timeless and universal for all persons, instead arguing that moral obligations may vary over time and across communities. The challenge of moral relativism to non-positivist theories of the Constitution underlies some important threads in both the originalist canon[43] and the efforts of critics like Philip Bobbitt and John Hart Ely to rehabilitate the legacy of the Warren Court.[44] In each case, concern about the difficulties inherent in finding common moral ground led those theorists (with the exception of Bobbitt) to a positivist account of constitutional legitimacy that was not grounded on moral theory. Fallon discounts these concerns by welcoming Justices’ non-constitutional normative values into their decision process, on the grounds that such a role is both inevitable and proper. [45]

Judicial discretion does not figure in Fallon’s analysis as an important problem in constitutional theory or for the legitimacy, either for the Court or for the Constitution, because Fallon argues that judicial decision is circumscribed in a number of institutional and normative ways, and he describes how.[46] He understands that judicial authorities are underdetermined, not entirely indeterminate.[47] The sources of that constraint are several; the constraints imposed by the constitutional text are not a significant part of Fallon’s practice-centered account. Linguistic meaning, as informed by our understandings and practices, and our constitutional and institutional practices and expectations are all important.[48] These constraints on judicial discretion are, for Fallon, sufficient to disarm the nihilist challenge of indeterminacy and the more traditional concerns with judicial discretion. While I think there are somewhat richer ways to describe the sources of the constraint and to reconcile them with the authority and discretion Justices have, the core of Fallon’s analysis seems right.[49]

Fallon believes that the fundamental problems of legitimacy facing the Court and the Constitution are both sociological and moral.[50] We need to explain both why we do accept the Court’s authority and why we should accept that authority. We need constitutional practices that reinforce this acceptance and the associated authority of the Court. Expressed in these more general terms, Fallon’s restatement of the problem of legitimacy is a twenty-first century account. While Fallon is right to emphasize both the sociological and moral dimensions of constitutional legitimacy, inherent in his dichotomy is a disregard for, or at least a lack of interest in, a third dimension of legitimacy, legal legitimacy. In the current divided political climate that has deeply shaped the Justices’ confirmation process and the public reactions to the Court’s decisions, the Court’s legitimacy is not only an academic concern.

Having set a bold agenda, Fallon’s account of the moral legitimacy is cautious and almost anodyne. While he acknowledges the challenge that racial discrimination poses for claims of legitimacy, he doesn’t explore the extent to which this discrimination affects minorities and, indeed, all of us. He does not acknowledge the chilling challenges that Richard Rothstein’s The Color of Law or Michelle Alexander’s The New Jim Crow pose for white complacency with respect to the extent of racial discrimination in our society and the Court’s profound and continuing role in preserving and protecting that discrimination. Fallon also ignores the originalists’ challenge to the Court’s legitimacy. Many originalists—including Justice Antonin Scalia and Robert Bork—sometimes suggest that the failure to follow the original understanding of the constitutional text generates an illegitimate constitutional law.[51] That appears descriptively mistaken as a matter of sociological legitimacy and at best highly problematic as a matter of moral legitimacy. But the originalists don’t generally offer an express descriptive or prescriptive account of constitutional legitimacy or the role of the Court in place of that implicit claim. The claim also calls into question the legitimacy of these originalists’ own position. Nearly thirty years ago Philip Bobbitt called out Bork’s challenge to the legitimacy of the Court. Bobbitt argued that Bork’s theoretical commitment to originalist interpretative principles and his corresponding criticism of the Warren and Burger Courts’ non-originalist decisions as illegitimate constituted dispositive grounds for denying him a seat on that Court.[52] That’s a powerful claim, but one Fallon does not engage when he asserts that Justices must accept the authority of the Constitution and, albeit to a lesser degree, the authority of the Court’s own precedent. Fallon ought to have acknowledged that any criticism of the Court’s own precedents by members of the Court must be limited to a criticism of the merits of those decisions, not their legitimacy. There is no comparable clarity in Fallon’s analysis of the challenges of legitimacy today.

Fallon’s exploration of the legitimacy of the Court and the Constitution is, however, refreshingly express. By confronting those issues directly, Fallon avoids some of the confusions that infect much of our contemporary constitutional discourse. By confronting the challenge of legitimacy directly, Fallon articulates a theory that can be assessed and accepted or challenged.

II

Fallon’s first principal goal is to shift the focus of our academic—and our public—constitutional discourse away from the current, longstanding disputes about constitutional interpretative methodology. He offers a brief survey of the principal outstanding theories. After canvassing the principal originalist theories, the pluralist theory of Bobbitt, the pragmatic realism of Posner, and the Critical Legal Studies’ challenge of indeterminacy, Fallon argues very briefly that all of those theories are inadequate. His principal objection to the originalist theories is that they cannot accomplish the mission for which they were created and that constitutional adjudication requires more tools than originalists—at least classical originalists—can provide.[53]

Fallon offers some of his harshest criticism of what he terms Cynical Realists.[54] This category lumps together some unidentified law professors and political scientists; he names only Professor Eric Segall and Judge Richard Posner.[55] According to Fallon, these theorists reject any dimension of autonomy for law, reducing judicial decision to politics. Certainly the classical Critical Legal Studies theorists reduced the account of constitutional law to power and politics. It’s not clear Fallon is fair here to Posner. In his early, utilitarian phase Posner clearly did not reduce law to politics. More importantly, in his more recent analysis of the nature of law, while he is far more critical of theory in general (and moral theory in particular) as a source of legal decision, his pragmatist emphasis upon the exercise of judgment in decision and the doctrinal and factual context of decision is inconsistent with the reductive account Fallon attributes to him. But Fallon is right that the Cynical Realists who deny that the Constitution is law and deny that constitutional rules constrain judges purport to offer a better description of our constitutional practice. Fallon argues that they neither describe the outcomes of judicial controversies better than competing theories but that they must inject the additional complexity of arguing that the Court either deceives itself or seeks to deceive us when it articulates the rationales for its decisions.[56] Fallon does not have much to say about Bobbitt’s pluralist theory. I think that gap reflects the extent to which Fallon has not fully thought through how an account of constitutional law that makes practice prior to theory works.

Fallon argues that none of the dominant theories offers an adequate account of our constitutional law or the Court’s constitutional practice.[57] His principal objection is that these accounts begin by putting the theory first, then asks the Justice to apply the theory in the decision of the cases that come before her.[58] While that criticism is apt for many contemporary constitutional theories, it is probably unfair of the most plausible pluralist theories, like those offered by Philip Bobbitt and Dennis Patterson.[59] Those theories emphasize the role of incommensurable arguments and the exercise of situated judgment. They deny that any constitutional theory can provide answers to constitutional controversies. In place of a decision theory that proceeds directly from theoretical foundations, Fallon endorses an iterative account that emphasizes constitutional practice. In this practice, constitutional theory does not have pride of place. It figures in the iterative process, together with our intuitions about the proper outcomes in actual and related hypothetical cases. But Fallon nevertheless believes that constitutional interpretation is logically prior to decision; that assumption is questionable. Moreover, while it’s a common assumption, shared with many of the other theorists Fallon discusses, Fallon does not defend it.

Fallon’s second central and ultimately more important argument is that we should adopt an iterative methodology drawn from analogy to John Rawls’s concept of reflective equilibrium in moral philosophy in our constitutional decision. The pursuit of constitutional reflective equilibrium is the process by which Fallon proposes to situate constitutional decision and to incorporate our moral and constitutional intuitions and competing modes of constitutional argument within sometimes-inconsistent constitutional interpretive theories.[60]

Reflective equilibrium is central to Rawls’s moral theory of the nature of justice in the modern, advanced liberal democracies. According to Rawls, to determine the requirements of distributive justice, we should imagine ourselves in the original position. In the original position we are separated from our actual selves by a veil of ignorance. That veil prevents us from knowing who we are and how we have fared in the allocation of natural capabilities and the distribution of social and economic resources. From the original position we are to consider what fairness and justice require in the design of a social and political system with respect to the allocation of social and economic resources. Rawls emphasizes that the requirements that are imposed by the principles of distributive justice are abstract and general. The principles of justice are compatible with various particular political systems. Nevertheless, this process imposes substantial constraints on political systems.

Fallon argues that this approach offers the best description of how our practice of constitutional adjudication goes as well as delivering the best normative prescription for how our constitutional decisional practice should proceed.[61] Originalists may fear that Fallon is answering affirmatively to Justice Scalia’s withering rhetorical question whether the Constitution incorporates Rawls’s moral theory.[62] This concern is mistaken, at least in its simplest and starkest form. Fallon’s incorporation of Rawlsian methods does not commit him to the substantive commitments of Rawls’s moral theory. Indeed, on balance Fallon’s invocation of Rawls is a little misleading: Fallon’s account of constitutional judicial decision is consistent with accounts of practical reasoning more generally. It misleadingly highlights the role of theory in that process. Fallon is really describing a role of practical inference, from premises and underlying grounds to conclusions and implications. (The originalists’ fear is not misguided, however, to the extent that Fallon endorses a role for Justices’ substantive moral and other normative commitments in constitutional argument and decision that is inconsistent with the dominant, positivist originalist theories. This incorporation is not pursuant to a peculiarly Rawlsian methodology, however.)

It is important to define the relationship of Fallon’s constitutional methodology to the philosophical methodology of Rawls. The most important difference between the methods of Rawls and Fallon are three. First, Rawls’s methods are methods of moral philosophy. A full metaphilosophical discussion of the implications of classifying Rawls’s theory and argument as philosophical is unnecessary here. But both important originalist and legal pragmatist critics of philosophical methods capture some of the implications of that classification when they lament the essentially contested nature of much philosophical argument.[63] Moral philosophy is no exception. Rawls’s arguments yield theoretical conclusions, not practical judgments. This difference matters if we take the concept of our existing constitutional practices of constitutional argument and decision as fundamental to our constitutional law. That practice is a pluralist practice of argument, as Fallon acknowledges. The various arguments made are not obviously commensurable.[64] The process of reflective equilibrium and the arguments and conclusions that it generates in the abstract, are relevant in our constitutional law and practice only if and to the extent that they may be articulated within the constraints and conventions of that constitutional practice. Fallon thinks that the process of iterated articulation of constitutional judgment from a position of reflective equilibrium can generate authoritative, binding constitutional judgments. By contrast, for Rawls, reflective equilibrium yields a moral theory that supersedes any of our prior moral thinking to the extent inconsistent with where we end up in reflective equilibrium as a result of our deliberations from the original position.

Second, Rawls pursues reflective equilibrium from the original position, a place where we imagine ourselves without all of the elements that make us who we are—our entitlements, capabilities, limitations, history, and personal commitments, for example. From the original position we are disembodied spirits imagining our future corporeal selves and seeking fairness and justice. Fallon’s process unfolds in the real world and real time of constitutional adjudication, with full knowledge of our history and ourselves.

Third, the iterated process that Fallon contemplates is modest and circumscribed; as such, it is very different from the open-ended, no-holds-barred theoretical inquiry of Rawls. In the constitutional context, Fallon believes that reflection on the demands of decision will result in “significant revisions . . . but . . . no troubling disruptions” to our constitutional law and practice.[65] In Rawls’s pursuit of reflective equilibrium, there can be no comparable confidence in the status quo. While the account of justice derived bears a noted resemblance to our advanced liberal western democracies, the role of the state and the commitment to redistribution looks very different from any actual sovereign states.

One of the most powerful criticisms offered against Rawls’s method was that it fails to capture the richness of who we are and what makes us human individuals.[66] Rawls’s description of who we are maximizes the abstraction of our self-descriptions. Critics have argued that we can’t have an adequate account of justice if we excise so much of what we are. Justice, from the perspective of these critics, is not nearly so abstract a concept as Rawls suggests. Justice for us, the argument goes, but take into account more fully who we are—what our desires are, what our capabilities are, and what our history has been. It’s the difference between the ahistorical account of Kant and the historicist account of Hegel.

For Fallon, the process of constitutional reflection begins with a working theory of constitutional interpretation.[67] Fallon believes that a theory of constitutional interpretation must have a logical priority in the process of constitutional adjudication because he believes that the texts of constitutional authorities must be interpreted (in a manner that Fallon defines broadly) so that their meaning may be applied in constitutional decision.[68] To the extent that the meaning is underdetermined or manifestly undesirable, Justices are generally empowered to interpret and apply the Constitution accordingly. Fallon wants to shift the focus of our analysis to the process by which working theories of interpretation are refined and corrected as we confront constitutional controversies and decide constitutional cases.[69]

Fallon doesn’t intend for the process of reflective equilibrium to begin from the original position. But it is less clear what beliefs or other conceptual commitments Justices should or may bring with them to the decision of constitutional cases. They are certainly entitled to bring a methodological stance with respect to interpretation.[70] This stance is, however, subject to testing and refinement against the Justices’ (and our) moral intuitions about particular potential actual and hypothetical judicial decisions.[71] The Justices may bring—indeed, on Fallon’s account, sometimes must bring—their own normative moral values to their work on the Court.[72] Are there, then, any beliefs or commitments that Justices may not take into account in their decisions?

There would appear to be at least three categories of belief that are out of bounds. First, procedurally, Fallon is at pains to recognize that any account of our constitutional law must preserve the important distinctions between what the law holds and what we think that the law should state and what we would want the law to state.[73] In their decision practice Justices must recognize the limits of their authority within our constitutional republic. Second, substantively, to the extent that a Justice holds a belief that is inconsistent with the Constitution, the substance of the Constitution should prevail. Third, to the extent that a Justice holds a moral belief that she recognizes is not shared within the community, that moral belief should not form the basis for a judicial decision that is otherwise indefensible.

These limits are more complex and difficult to apply than this bare statement may suggest. When is a substantive moral or other normative position inconsistent with the Constitution? How should a Justice determine whether a moral belief is shared (however that would be determined) or idiosyncratic? Before District of Columbia v. Heller and McDonald v. Chicago were decided, upholding a fundamental right to hold firearms without onerous state or federal regulation, was a broad understanding of a protected right to own or carry firearms inconsistent with the Constitution? Is a belief that the abortion of a human fetus is murder inconsistent with the Constitution? Is a belief that lashing is not a cruel and unusual punishment because not so originally understood at the time of the adoption of the Bill of Rights inconsistent with the Constitution? Is a belief that non-originalist precedent of the Court is not authoritative law inconsistent with an acknowledgment of the limits of the Court’s authority? None of these cases are easily classified within Fallon’s framework, even if our intuitions about them are clear. They are hard even with Fallon’s account of the constraints that should figure in constitutional adjudication. Articulating the ways in which Justices’ own moral commitments may figure in decision while preserving the moral legitimacy of decision is a project that Fallon has foreshadowed rather than completed.

Readers may also wonder whether Fallon’s position is vulnerable to the criticisms that have been made of Dworkin’s account of Justice Hercules.[74] Focusing upon Dworkin’s claim that law required the comprehensive articulation of a theory grounded on, and derived from, fundamental moral and political theory, Cass Sunstein famously characterized Justice Hercules as an oddball.[75] Sunstein emphasized the inability of such a Justice, committed to constructing a comprehensive and complete decisional theory, to decide cases together with other members of an appellate court.[76] When we look at Fallon’s reflective equilibrium methodology, we may wonder whether any Justice adopting it would face a similar criticism. Fallon’s methodology is ambitious, requiring both sophisticated historical research and sophisticated philosophical argument, even if it doesn’t require the formulation of a single, unified theory that Dworkin’s law as integrity demands.[77] Critics may wonder whether the process of seeking reflective equilibrium belongs to philosophers in their arm chairs, not judges charged with deciding hard cases in the hurly burly pressures of our deeply divided pluralistic constitutional republic. Fallon goes further than most in the academy in recognizing the untheoretical nature of much our practice of constitutional adjudication, but he does not reject a foundational role for theory and an obligation on the part of a Justice to formulate and apply such a theory.

Fallon thinks he has disarmed critics who might argue that the process of reflective equilibrium would be impracticable or result in absolute, uncompromisable judgments in constitutional controversies. His requirement that Justices proceed in good faith appears to be an important part of his argument for the collegiality and integrity of judicial decision-making.[78] But Fallon does not explain the requirement of good faith in much depth. Good faith imposes a duty of consistency, in the absence of a change in view. But the constraint does more in Fallon’s theory. It requires the introduction of an implicit distinction between the arguments that may be made to the Court and the arguments made by the Court. In the case of the arguments made to the Court much, perhaps all, of any requirement of good faith would appear to be properly subordinated to requirements of effective argument—an advocate can surely make arguments to the Court that she does not herself endorse. Moreover, as Fallon acknowledges, the desideratum of good faith, in the face of prudential considerations that may support more artificial approaches, like that pursued by the Court in the period between its decision in Brown and its decision in Loving, is controversial. The constraint of good faith warrants a fuller development if Fallon is to be persuasive in his claim that it can play the important role he ascribes to it.

Fallon believes that the process of reflection is practicable, at least in a limited, practical way because it is a description of how much of our judicial constitutional decisionmaking actually proceeds.[79] He argues that by articulating the process more formally we may improve our judicial decisionmaking, without needing to change it in any fundamental way. With respect to Sunstein’s objection to Dworkin, Fallon argues that by requiring that his Justices proceed reasonably, taking into account the perspectives and values of the other Justices he can insure that his theory is consonant with the need for multimember panels to achieve consensus, even if members of the panel begin from different normative points of departure and apply different decisional methods.[80]  But can Fallon so easily pair his notion of reflective equilibrium with a commitment to collegiality and reasonableness on the part of his Justices?

Fallon may argue that while his reflective equilibrium generates substantive constitutional outcomes and doctrine, the requirement of reasonableness addresses the epistemic dimension of the adjudication process. The requirement of reasonableness limits the confidence that Justices should take in the conclusions that the process of pursuing reflective equilibrium generates, and the doctrine and decisions that arise from it. If this is the way to understand Fallon’s theory, it is very different from the concept of reflective equilibrium that Rawls defends, at least in A Theory of Justice.[81] For Rawls, the pursuit of a reflective equilibrium is a theoretical, philosophical inquiry. There are no epistemic limits on the conclusions generated in reflective equilibrium. Fallon’s reconciliation of his more situated, historical, and practical account of constitutional practical reasoning that makes a place for reasonableness and collegiality in our constitutional practice is not implausible.

When we understand how Fallon wants his process of historically situated reasoning to reflective equilibrium to work, we are left wondering what Rawls has to do with it. The iterated articulation of a constitutional reflective equilibrium is a far more practical exercise than Rawls’s theoretical exercise from the original position. On Fallon’s account, we begin with a great deal of knowledge about and commitment to our constitutional law and practice and to our socially instantiated moral intuitions and expectations. We can see this if we compare Fallon’s account with Gilbert Harman’s account of how we change our views as a matter of practical reason.[82] Fallon’s description of the process of reasoning to a constitutional reflective equilibrium is not inconsistent with Harman’s account of how we change our beliefs and actions as a matter of practical reason. Briefly, on Harman’s account, we reason by inference to the best explanation, adding and culling beliefs and inferential commitments until we arrive at the most persuasive, most coherent overall relevant view. Fallon also dispenses with the most salient features of Rawls’s method (principally, the original position and the veil of ignorance) in his proposed constitutional decision and theory-building process. The process of reflective equilibrium is the means by which Fallon limits the power of the competing theories of constitutional interpretation. But if we don’t begin by according the competing theories of constitutional interpretation a logical priority in our practice of constitutional adjudication, then we don’t need to emphasize the complicated process of iterated reasoning to a reflective equilibrium. This is the most important way in which Fallon betrays his unarticulated commitment to the priority of theory. I think Fallon’s invocation of Rawls’s concept of reflective equilibrium—admittedly only as analogy—may be best understood as reflecting his misplaced commitments to a pride of place for theoretical and conceptual reasoning in our constitutional practice.

Fallon’s Rawlsian tack is not easily reconciled with Rawls’s own later political philosophy.[83] Rawls’s later work appears to retreat from the systematic claim of A Theory of Justice that philosophy could derive the formulation of the political institutions that would create a just society that could and should be accepted by all.[84] Instead, Rawls later appears to argue that a just society requires pluralism and continuing tolerance for dissent, because a shared understanding of moral doctrine can only be maintained by oppression.[85] (Note how consistent the commitment of the later Rawls to continuing argument and dissent and the absence of an agreed upon comprehensive canon is with a modal, pluralist account of constitutional law. This parallel does not seem to have been highlighted by the constitutional pluralists.)

If this reading is right, then the later Rawls poses a substantial challenge for Fallon’s claim that our goal should be a constitutional decision process that decides cases on the basis of constitutional reflection that aims at a reasonably comprehensive account of the proper understanding and application of the Constitution. Constitutional adjudication yields authoritative, binding legal decisions. If the Rawls of Political Liberalism is right, the resulting law is either incomplete or sustainable only with force, not reason. For Fallon, constitutional adjudication is fundamentally a matter of using constitutional interpretative theory to find the right constitutional meaning, not to choose among essentially contested or otherwise inconsistent resolutions of constitutional controversies on the basis of structured, canonical forms of constitutional argument. While Fallon makes a place for dissent and disagreement, it does not take the pride of place that features in more fundamentally pluralist accounts. His focus falls on argument and disagreement as a means for developing the underlying constitutional theory in modest and incremental ways, not as a fundamental or constitutive feature of our constitutional law and practice. For Fallon, with reflective equilibrium comes consistent, reasoned constitutional decision and constitutional theory. Despite invoking Rawls’s theory at multiple levels, Fallon does not adequately address the challenge posed by the later Rawls.[86]

Doctrinal coherence is also important for an inferentialist account of constitutional decision. Constitutional opinions, like the text of the Constitution itself, both do things and say things.[87] When opinions say things in their holdings and in their reasoning, they make discursive commitments that are part of our constitutional law (This dimension of the way Justices say things accounts for much of the reason why the celebrated (infamous?) analogy with umpires is so manifestly inadequate to explain what Justices do.[88])

As suggested above, Fallon gets it backwards. We ought to begin with our constitutional practice—and the importance of discursive inferential commitments in the opinion writing part of that practice. From that practice we can understand the need for doctrinal and inferential coherence with respect to the Court’s holdings and in the doctrine articulated in the Court’s opinions, because the discursive commitments of those authoritative constitutional texts inform and ultimately constitute much of our constitutional law.

But, contrary to Fallon’s account, we can insist on consistency and coherence as an important requirement for our discursive commitments without a commitment to the priority of constitutional interpretative theory. An inferentialist account accomplishes this directly. According to an inferentialist account, the meaning of statements and assertions arises not simply from their use, but also from the discursive commitments that follow from them. Most simply, when the Court asserts, for example, “[s]eparate educational facilities are inherently unequal,[89] that assertion carries a number of important inferential commitments but also leaves open other important questions. The assertion, at least as a matter of linguistic if not semantic meaning,[90] holds racial segregation unconstitutional in schools. It does not appear to admit of exceptions. The assertion does not explain whether it speaks to schools that are in fact separate or separate by law, but on its face it does not appear to distinguish the two. It does not expressly foreclose all forms of racial discrimination or even all forms of racial segregation. It does not determine what remedies may exist for racial segregation in schools. It appears inconsistent on its face with Plessy,[91] and the opinion elsewhere makes this inconsistency express—but does not expressly overrule that case.[92] Attention to these inferential dimensions of the assertion gives the linguistic content, its meaning and force, to the text. They also impose some consistency and coherence on constitutional doctrine and law. If a holding or an argument is inconsistent with the constitutional text or with other authoritative assertions of constitutional law, we can call that flaw out. If an opinion fails to offer a canonical, authoritative argument for the decision made, we can call that out, too—again without the need to construct a theoretical superstructure.[93] We don’t first need a theory of constitutional meaning and interpretation before making such judgments or deciding cases.

It may appear that an inferentialist account, with its emphasis on the discursive commitments that flow from the assertions made in constitutional authorities—the text of the Constitution and of constitutional precedents—is itself inconsistent with a modal account of constitutional argument and decision. The modal, pluralist account asserts that there are multiple, sometimes inconsistent forms of argument that we invoke and rely upon to decide constitutional cases. This conflict is not best understood as a conflict about meaning so much as a conflict about what the Constitution says and should be understood to do. The modal conflict—and central prudential and doctrinal arguments, while sometimes couched in terms of the meaning of the relevant authoritative texts—are better understood in terms of what we should do, how we should hold in a constitutional case. The conflicts inherent in a pluralist theory are not inconsistent with an inferentialist account of the meaning of our constitutional texts.

Although Fallon long ago endorsed something that he himself termed a pluralist theory,[94] it’s not clear that he remains a pluralist today. Moreover, his defense of his reflective methodology appears vulnerable to important criticisms from pluralist theory. Constitutional pluralism asserts plurality, variously asserting the existence of multiple, independent theories of interpretation and construction, readings of the Constitution that inform constitutional adjudication, and modes of constitutional argument. Pluralism, most fundamentally, recognizes the limits of constitutional theory and the corresponding priority of our faculty of constitutional judgment in our constitutional practice. The locus classicus for this claim—albeit in an often-misunderstood and admittedly opaque expression—is Philip Bobbitt’s Constitutional Fate.[95] Subtitled Theory of the Constitution, the book has sometimes been misunderstood to articulate six dueling theories of the Constitution, although Bobbitt introduced these forms archetypes, but he later came to refer to them as modalities.[96] Bobbitt acknowledged that some of his readers had mistakenly thought that he was describing multiple theories, not a single theory of the Constitution.[97] The confusion likely arose because Bobbitt’s theory made constitutional practice central and constitutive of our constitutional law; that theory doesn’t look much like other constitutional theories. Central to Bobbitt’s account is that there is no algorithm or decision methodology that can resolve conflicts among competing modalities of argument. (While many constitutional theorists implicitly discount the role of constitutional judgment, few (perhaps none) expressly assert that an algorithm could determine the proper resolution of constitutional cases.) For Bobbitt, the resolution of the conflict was a matter of conscience.[98] Secular readers found that account problematic.[99] But one can imagine a secularized account of judgment, even an account that is consistent with moral relativism.[100]

Pluralism, with the logical priority that it assigns to our practice of constitutional argument and decision, is inconsistent with Fallon’s reflective account that begins with a theoretical approach to constitutional interpretation.[101] Choosing between Fallon’s emphasis on the contribution and role of theory in constitutional adjudication and the social practice account of pluralism requires us to make a judgment about the nature of constitutional judgment. Constitutional judgment requires wisdom as well as mastery of constitutional methods and doctrine. The lingering question is whether Fallon offers a compelling account of the role and relative importance of each.

Finally, it is helpful to examine Fallon’s account against the constitutional jurisprudence of another, more conservative member of Rawls’s posse, Fallon’s colleague Charles Fried. There are important parallels between the two descriptions of our constitutional law and the normative perspectives each holds. For example, both Fried and Fallon believe that reasoning about constitutional doctrine is important in constitutional adjudication.[102] For Fallon, doctrinal and precedential reasoning explicates the meaning of the constitutional text; for Fried, precedent shapes and determines constitutional doctrine and decision. But the differences between the two accounts are also significant and these differences highlight some central elements of Fallon’s argument. Leaving aside the differences in the substantive constitutional law each would endorse, Fried’s emphasis on the granularity of constitutional doctrine and on the importance of judgment[103] reflects his view that downplays the role of theories of constitutional interpretation in our constitutional law and constitutional adjudication. For Fried, constitutional law and the resolution of constitutional controversy requires very careful attention to the facts of the case and the relevant constitutional doctrine with respect to which the case arises. It is in that particularized context that situated constitutional judgment may be best made.[104] Theories of meaning and interpretation, which sometimes impair the exercise of good constitutional judgment, do not play for Fried the central role that Fallon’s theory accords them.

III

Fallon’s new book makes an important contribution to our thinking about the Constitution and the Court. The arguments Law and Legitimacy makes expressly, as well as the unstated assumptions that underlie these arguments and the focus of the book more generally, would move our constitutional thinking forward if others master its lessons. Fallon’s book is more likely, however, to elicit criticism both for what it says and what it doesn’t bother to say. Legal pragmatists may feel slighted by Fallon’s brief engagement with their claims, for example, as well as by being termed Cynical Realists. Most of them don’t self-identify either as cynical or as realists. The committed interpretivists on both sides of the originalism debate will likely forcefully reject Fallon’s argument that Justices may properly look to their own moral commitments in deciding certain constitutional cases. To the extent that the originalists are tempted by Fallon’s account their project of delegitimizing the constitutional jurisprudence of the Warren and Burger Courts will be called into question. 

To the extent that the constitutional academy does not respond critically, it will likely attempt to assimilate Law and Legitimacy into the canon of our current practice of normal constitutional theory. That response will be, at least in important respects, misleading. Thus, for example, we may anticipate that New Originalists like Solum will emphasize Fallon’s openness to originalist methodologies. They will emphasize the centrality of the constitutional text to Fallon’s account of constitutional interpretation and decision. Although Fallon endorses much of Soames’s theory (including employing without objection Soames’s barbarism of precisification),[105] Soames must surely reject Fallon’s methodological claims about ordinary language and our knowledge thereof. Leaving aside the modest substantive disagreements, while Soames is interested in natural language, methodologically he is no ordinary language philosopher. He is committed to a canonical analytical metaphilosophical account of his project.[106] For analytic philosophers of language, ordinary language users are not authoritative informants about the nature of linguistic meaning or other, related philosophical questions. Soames should reject Fallon’s methodological claim to participate in the analysis of constitutional meaning, because the nature of meaning, ambiguity, truth, and knowledge are matters as to which philosophers have special expertise and knowledge. Fallon, as a legal scholar, does not have this professional expertise or knowledge. Originalists are more likely to focus critically on Fallon’s willingness to incorporate underlying normative values into constitutional judgments. Originalist critics like Sunstein will emphasize the role of consensus and collegiality in appellate constitutional adjudication and Fallon’s call for greater deference to Congress, overlooking Fallon’s tacit denial of a central role for incompletely theorized opinions.[107] They may also emphasize Fallon’s suggestion that the Court should be more deferential to the Congress. They will likely emphasize Fallon’s reliance on the earlier rather than the later, Rawls. Because of the measured style and the balance of Fallon’s argument, it is possible, indeed, perhaps likely, that other scholars will selectively find in Fallon’s arguments what is most in harmony with their own positions. Some may find the same tendency in this review. This may result in underestimating the originality and importance of Fallon’s contribution.

Implicit in this review’s narrative is the claim that we should recognize how far Fallon departs from the traditional traces of our contemporary constitutional theory. He is not just providing new answers; he is redirecting us to new or lost questions about the nature of the Constitution, the role of the Court, and the nature of the legitimacy of the Republic. By focusing on the foundations for the moral legitimacy of the Court and the Constitution, Fallon would shift our constitutional discourse away from the sterile debate over constitutional interpretation and originalism and other theoretical issues. That would be a signal achievement in its own right.[108] By casting the discussion of legitimacy in the fundamental new terms that look expressly to our moral and political theory and our constitutional practice—rather than in the narrower, traditional terms of the countermajoritarian dilemma and the role of, and limits on, judicial discretion—Fallon tacitly challenges the dominant positivism that has informed both most originalism and the competing constitutional theories of originalism’s critics. But in so doing, he needs to acknowledge the challenges that originalists and their critics have historically posed to reliance on underlying normative values in our constitutional adjudication.

Within the realm of the possible, Fallon’s new book accomplishes a lot. How important it will prove to have been in reshaping our constitutional theory and practice, to echo Zhou Enlai, it’s simply too soon to say. If Law and Legitimacy should have that impact, it will be more a matter of changing what we do than of changing what we merely say.


[*] *.. Harvard University Press, 2018.

[†] †.. I am grateful to Laura Litten for comments on an earlier draft of this review. © 2018 André LeDuc.

 [1]. Another reflects books Fallon has himself written, including The Dynamic Constitution and Implementing the Constitution.

 [2].  Other academics may claim the same ambition, of course, but the disconnect between how those scholars write about the Court and Constitution and how the Justices write about their decisions reveals how implausible that claimed mission is.

 [3].  David A. Strauss, The Living Constitution (2010).

 [4].  Laurence H. Tribe, The Invisible Constitution (2008).

 [5].  Akhil Reed Amar, America’s Unwritten Constitution: The Precedents and Principles We Live By (2012).

 [6].  Sean Wilson, The Flexible Constitution (2013).

 [7].  Jack M. Balkin, Living Originalism (2011).

 [8].  Richard A. Epstein, The Classic Liberal Constitution: The Uncertain Quest for Limited Government (2014).

 [9].  Randy E. Barnett, Restoring the Lost Constitution: The Presumption of Liberty (2004); Louis Michael Seidman, The Unsettled Constitution: A New Defense of Constitutionalism and Judicial Review (2001). Admittedly, Fallon has already gone down that road with The Dynamic Constitution: An Introduction to American Constitutional Law and Practice.

 [10].  Thus, for example, Fallon disavows his 1987 claim that linguistic meanings would not conflict in ways that would generate constitutional controversies. Richard H. Fallon, Jr., Law and Legitimacy in the Supreme Court 80, 193 n.42 (2018) [hereinafter Fallon, Law and Legitimacy].

 [11].  See, e.g., id. at 188, nn.149–54 (discussing Scott Soames’s philosophical arguments). The index, unfortunately, does not adequately capture the depth of Fallon’s analysis, either substantively or in its entries for the scholars and scholarship that Fallon addresses.

 [12].  Examples of Fallon’s charity include his characterization of Steven Sachs’s arguments for a positivist originalism as “bracing.” and Bruce Ackerman’s radical theory of de facto constitutional change as “theoretically ambitious and highly provocative,” and his willingness to glide past continuing confusion in the New Originalist camp over the distinction between the broader concept of linguistic meaning and the narrower, less relevant concept of semantic meaning. Id. at 204 n.7 (Sachs), 196 n.28 (Ackerman).

 [13].  See id. at 48–49, 137–40.

 [14].  See id. at 48–49.

 [15].  Richard H. Fallon, Jr., Implementing the Constitution 13–25 (2001).

 [16].  Id. at 3, 15–16.

 [17].  Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 61–64; Scott Soames, Deferentialism: A Post-Originalist Theory of Legal Interpretation, 82 Fordham L. Rev. 597 (2013) [hereinafter Soames, Deferentialism]; 1 Scott Soames, Interpreting Legal Texts: What Is, and What Is Not, Special about the Law, in Philosophical Essays: Natural Language: What It Is and How We Use It 403 (2009).

 [18].  Soames, Deferentialism, supra note 17, at 597 (characterizing deferentialism as originalism without the baggage). While characterizing deferentialism as jettisoning originalism’s baggage Soames never expressly articulates what he thinks he has accomplished. I think he means to claim that he has eliminated some of the more implausible claims originalists have made about the determinacy of semantic meaning, and dispensed with a need for those claims by amplifying the recourse to semantic meaning with reference to the pragmatics of utterances and texts.

 [19].  Id. at 597–98.

 [20].  Scott Soames, Philosophy of Language 1 (2010) (“The central fact of language is its representational character.”).

 [21].  Soames, Deferentialism, supra note 17, at 597.

 [22].  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 61–62.

 [23].  Id. at 62–65.

 [24].  Id. at 64.

 [25].  Id. at 64–65.

 [26].  Admittedly, Fallon does not make this claim expressly. But in discussing other theorists who are committed to a representational account of language he expresses no reservations about those accounts. Id. at 188, nn.50–56.

 [27].  Richard H. Fallon, Jr. The Meaning of Legal “Meaning” and Its Implications for Theories of Legal Interpretation, 82 U. Chi. L. Rev. 1235, 1307 (2015) [hereinafter Fallon, Meaning] (unreflectively writing of the referents of interpretations of meaning).

 [28]. André LeDuc, The Anti-Foundational Challenge to the Philosophical Premises of the Debate over Originalism, 119 Penn. St. L. Rev. 131 (2014).

 [29].  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 49–51.

 [30].  By contrast, many of the participants in the debates over constitutional originalism employ their representational accounts of language to make claims about the precision and determinativeness of language that fit more easily with representational theories. See André LeDuc, The Ontological Foundations of the Debate over Originalism, 7 Wash. U. Juris. Rev. 263 (2015).

 [31].  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 43–44, 76–78.

 [32].  See Alexander M. Bickel, The Least Dangerous Branch: The Supreme Court at the Bar of Politics 16–23 (1962) (arguing that the fundamental challenge of constitutional theory is to explain the legitimacy of judicial review).

 [33].  See, e.g., Jeremy Waldron, The Core of the Case against Judicial Review, 115 Yale L.J. 1346, 1406 (2006) (concluding that judicial review is inappropriate as a matter of democratic political philosophy in reasonably democratic societies).

 [34].  See Ronald M. Dworkin, The Model of Rules: I, in Taking Rights Seriously 14, 43–45 (1977).

 [35].  Here, too, Fallon is indifferent to the jurisprudential debate between legal positivists and natural law theorists. While asserting the importance of moral commitments in deciding constitutional cases and thereby determining our constitutional law, he nevertheless presses Hart’s positivist notion of a rule of recognition into service.

 [36].  Fallon offered his defense of judicial review in Richard H. Fallon, Jr., The Core of an Uneasy Case for Judicial Review, 121 Harv. L. Rev. 1693 (2008) (arguing against Waldron’s indictment if judicial review and offering an affirmative theoretical defense thereof). Alexander Bickel, The Least Dangerous Branch, and the countermajoritarian difficulty do not even merit entries in the brief index.

 [37].  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 159–60.

 [38].  See id. at 159–165.

 [39].  The Brown challenge asserts that any constitutional theory that characterizes Brown as wrongly decided (as distinguished from wrongly reasoned) is thereby discredited and must be rejected.

 [40].  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 145, 162.

 [41].  See id.at 162–63.

 [42].  Id. at 22–24, 41–46.

 [43].  Antonin Scalia, Common Law Courts in a Civil-Law System: The Role of United States Federal Courts in Interpreting The Constitution and Laws, in A Matter of Interpretation: Federal Courts and the Law 45–46 (Amy Gutmann ed., 1997).

 [44].  Philip Bobbitt, Constitutional Fate: Theory of the Constitution (1982); John Hart Ely, Democracy and Distrust: A Theory of Judicial Review (1980).

 [45].  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 68.

 [46].  See id. at 105–24.

 [47].  See id. at 48–49.

 [48].  See id. at 107–09.

 [49].  See Robert B. Brandom, A Hegelian Model of Legal Concept Determination: The Normative Fine Structure of the Judges’ Chain Novel, in Pragmatism, Law, and Language 19, 19–20 (Graham Hubbs & Douglas Lind eds., 2014). Fallon occasionally hints at a perspective like this but does not develop it.  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 107.

 [50].  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 7.

 [51].  Robert H. Bork, The Tempting of America: The Political Seduction of the Law 143 (1990) (characterizing originalism as the only approach to constitutional interpretation that possesses “democratic legitimacy” and is “consonant with the design of the American Republic”).

 [52].  Philip Bobbitt, Constitutional Interpretation 83–108 (1991).

 [53].  See Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 49–51.

 [54].  See id. at 169–71.

 [55].  Id. at 169, 212 n.43.

 [56].  See id. at 169–71.

 [57].  Id. at 136–38.

 [58].  Id.

 [59].  Bobbitt, supra note 44; Dennis Patterson, Law and Truth (1996).

 [60].  Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 142–48.

 [61].  Id. at 142–48, 170–71.

 [62].  Scalia, supra note 43, at 45.

 [63].  See, e.g., Scalia, supra note 43, at 44–45; Bork, supra note 51, at 253–55; Richard Posner, The Problematics of Moral and Legal Theory, 111 Harv. L. Rev. 1637 (1998).

 [64].  Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 125–27.

 [65].  Id. at 147.

 [66].  Michael Walzer, Spheres of Justice: A Defense of Pluralism and Equality 79 (1983) (arguing that Rawls’s argument as to what is just in the abstract from behind the veil of ignorance cannot offer a rich enough account to give us answers as to what justice requires in the rich historical context in which we find ourselves in life).

 [67].  Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 126–27.

 [68].  Id. at 41–46.

 [69].  See id. at 126–27.

 [70].  Id. at 144.

 [71].  Id.

 [72].  Id. at 128.

 [73].  See id. at 10–11, 121–23.

 [74].  See Ronald Dworkin, Law’s Empire 379–92 (1986).

 [75].  Cass R. Sunstein, Legal Reasoning and Political Conflict 49 (1996).

 [76].  Id. at 48–50.

 [77].  Compare Dworkin, supra note 74, at 264–65 (acknowledging but dismissing the objection to his account of adjudication based on the practical impossibility of human judges adopting and following the ambitious methodology of law as integrity) with Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 149 (history), 48–49 (theoretical analysis of language).

 [78].  Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 130–32.

 [79].  Id. at 147–48.

 [80].  Id. at 151–53.

 [81].  John Rawls, A Theory of Justice 48–51 (1971).

 [82].  Gilbert Harman, Change in View: Principles of Reasoning 1 (1986). Harman’s account of belief change is embedded in a representational account of language, but I believe that his account of practical reasoning could be recast in a non-representational, inferentialist form.

 [83].  John Rawls, Political Liberalism (paperback ed. 1996).

 [84].  Id. at 37.

 [85].  See Burton Dreben, On Rawls and Political Liberalism, in The Cambridge Companion to Rawls 316, 317–18 (Samuel Freeman ed., 2003).

 [86].  To the extent we read Cass Sunstein’s judicial minimalism and defense of incompletely theorized decisions as relying fundamentally on the later Rawls, Fallon’s focus on the earlier Rawls is also reflected in his relative non-engagement with Sunstein’s constitutional theory. See Sunstein, supra note 75, at 46–48, 199 nn.13–14 (citing Political Liberalism).

 [87]. See André LeDuc, Making the Premises about Constitutional Meaning Express: The New Originalism and Its Critics, 31 BYU J. Pub. L. 111 (2016).

 [88].  See Charles Fried, Balls and Strikes, 61 Emory L.J. 641 passim (2012) (exploring the metaphor Chief Justice John Roberts offered in his confirmation hearings but arguing, most importantly, that the role and contribution of the judge to adjudication in the law is more complex and more important than the role of the umpire in playing sports games). It also accounts for why Sunstein’s argument for incompletely theorized opinions is overstated, if not mistaken. Sometimes constitutional cases are best resolved by the Court, despite the important inherent limitations on the Court, by a more comprehensive or sweeping opinion to announce the decision. When and why that may be the case is not a question that Fallon engages directly, but unlike Sunstein, he does not reject the possibility that certain constitutional cases may require a decision on the basis of an argument with broad application or implications.

 [89]. Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, 347 U.S. 483, 495 (1954).

 [90]. While the pragmatics of the text—context and role in the decision of the constitutional case—make it clear that it speaks as a matter of federal constitutional law, even though it does not expressly assert its conclusion as a matter of federal constitutional law.

 [91]. Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 U.S. 537 (1896).

 [92]. Brown, 347 U.S. at 494–95.

 [93]. Bernard Wolfman et al., Dissent Without Opinion: The Behavior of Justice William O. Douglas in Federal Tax Cases (1975) (arguing that the consistent failure of Justice Douglas to articulate any grounds as the basis on which he struck down federal taxes contested before the Court was illegitimate).

 [94].  Richard H. Fallon, Jr., A Constructivist Coherence Theory of Constitutional Interpretation, 100 Harv. L. Rev. 1189 (1987).

 [95].  Bobbitt, supra note 44.

 [96].  Id. at 7; Bobbitt, supra note 52, at 11–22.

 [97].  Bobbitt, supra note 52, at xi.

 [98].  Id. at xvii, 184–86.

 [99].  Patterson, supra note 59, at 142–46, 149–50.

 [100].  Harman’s account of practical judgment would appear to be such an example.

 [101]. It may appear that Bobbitt’s notion of the style of a particular Justice, reflected in his preference for one or more particular modes of argument, is analogous to Fallon’s claim that a Justice begins the decision of a constitutional case with a working theory of constitutional interpretation. I think the parallel is misleading because the modes of arguments are not theories of the Constitution, still less theories of interpretation. Moreover, while not foundational (because they are merely types or classes of argument) and because they are not confirmed or reinforced by intuitions about the best resolution of constitutional controversies.

 [102].  Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 98–99; see Charles Fried, Saying What the Law Is: The Constitution in the Supreme Court 241–42 (2004).

 [103].  See Charles Fried, On Judgment, 15 Lewis & Clark L. Rev. 1025 passim (2011) (emphasizing the often underestimated importance of judgment in constitutional cases in lieu of emphasizing the importance of interpretive theory). Even the title of Fried’s earlier book—Saying What the Law Is—emphasizes the performative, character of our constitutional law and practice, at least if we understand the Court to make the law so by saying.

 [104].  Id. at 1043–44 (highlighting the power of Justice Scalia’s non-originalist opinions and decisions).

 [105].  Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 67.

 [106].  Soames, supra note 20, at 1–10 (beginning his theoretical analysis with Frege).

 [107].  Fallon mentions Sunstein’s concept and argument only in passing. Fallon, Law and Legitimacy, supra note 10, at 208, n.65. While Fallon argues for greater judicial deference to the legislature, he does not endorse the systematic judicial minimalism that Sunstein calls for.

 [108].  For a more cautious view that it will take more than merely compelling or even dispositive, rational argument to reach that result, see André LeDuc, Striding Out of Babel: Originalism, Its Critics, and the Promise of Our American Constitution, 26 Wm. & Mary Bill of Rts. J. 101 (2017).

 

Supreme Court Reform: Desirable—And Constitutionally Required

From Volume 92, Postscript (November 2018)
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Supreme Court Reform: Desirable—and Constitutionally Required

David Orentlicher[*]

As decisions by—and appointments to—the Supreme Court have become increasingly divisive,[1] many observers have renewed calls for reform.[2] For example, we could replace lifetime tenure with non-renewable terms of eighteen years, such that one term ends every two years.[3] That way, less would be at stake with each nomination, Justices could not time their retirements for partisan reasons, and appointments would be divided more evenly between Democratic and Republican presidents. Or we could establish a non-partisan, judicial nominating commission.[4]

Concerns about the Supreme Court are not new, but increasing political polarization and partisan maneuvering over the two most recent Court appointments have accentuated tensions. With the legitimacy of the Court at stake, reform to depoliticize the Court seems essential. And whichever reform is promoted, it is generally assumed that implementation would require a constitutional amendment, legislation, or a change in Senate rules.

But the conventional wisdom is wrong. There is a sound argument to be made that Supreme Court reform is constitutionally required.[5]

DUE PROCESS AND ideological baLANCE

With Justice Brett Kavanaugh’s appointment to the Supreme Court, it seems pretty clear that President Donald Trump and Senate Republicans have been able to solidify a staunchly conservative majority on the Court. In all likelihood, this new majority will stake out firmly conservative positions on a range of critical issues, including voting rights, reproductive rights, and corporate rights. With a second Trump nominee on the bench, the Supreme Court will bring a strong ideological bias to its decision making. While that is highly controversial, it is one of the features of our judicial appointment process. As is often said, elections have consequences.

Or should they when it comes to the judicial branch? We ought to consider the constitutional implications of ideological bias on the Supreme Court. In particular, principles of due process and the framers’ original intent provide good reason to think that neither a conservative nor liberal Court majority should be able to impose its views on the country. 

A.  Ideological Bias and Due Process

The Due Process Clause promises litigants that they will receive an impartial hearing before a neutral court.[6] And a neutral court decides cases without any personal, political, or other bias.[7] With a fifth strongly conservative Justice on the Supreme Court, it is not a neutral court. Any party promoting a liberal viewpoint before the Justices will not be able to count on a fair shot at prevailing.[8]

To be sure, if Justices merely acted like umpires, doing something akin to the calling of balls and strikes, as suggested by Chief Justice John Roberts in his confirmation hearings,[9] a Justice’s political philosophy would not matter. But of course, a Justice’s political philosophy does matter.[10] Otherwise, Republican Senators would have considered Judge Merrick Garland’s nomination to the Supreme Court in 2016, and other nominations also would not fail because of partisan opposition. Some Justices take more conservative positions, while others take more liberal positions.[11] A conservative majority will render different decisions on environmental regulation, consumer protection, or voting rights than will a liberal majority. When Court decisions reflect the philosophical leanings of the Justices, and decisions can be determined by one side of the ideological spectrum, our system denies an impartial hearing to parties on the other side of the ideological spectrum. And that is fundamentally unfair in a constitutional system that promises litigants due process in court.

Because it is unfair for litigants to have their cases decided by an ideologically-biased court, other countries have designed their highest courts so decisions do not reflect only one side of the philosophical spectrum. Arguably, due process requires something similar for the Supreme Court.

A strong view of due process would demand ideological moderation for each Justice, an approach taken in some European countries. In Germany, for example, nominees to the Constitutional Court must receive a two-thirds vote of approval and therefore must appeal to legislators on both sides of the partisan aisle.[12] Instead of getting judges who are either strongly conservative or liberal, German litigants get judges who are moderate. Like Germany, Portugal and Spain require supermajority votes for appointments to their constitutional courts.[13] So we might say that due process requires restoration of a strong filibuster rule in the Senate or a strong supermajority on final voting for judicial nominations. That would force presidents to nominate Justices acceptable to both conservatives and liberals.[14]

A less demanding view of due process would focus on overall balance on the Court rather than on the ideologies of individual Justices. While there are different ways to achieve overall balance,[15] the simplest path for the Supreme Court would be to follow the example of a number of countries. In many European nations, high court decisions are made by consensus, or at least a supermajority vote, so Justices on both sides of the ideological spectrum have to support the courts’ opinions.[16] The U.S. Supreme Court itself observed a norm of consensual decision-making for most of its history. Until 1941, the Justices typically spoke unanimously.[17] Only about 8% of cases included a dissenting opinion. Now, one or more Justices dissent in about 60% of rulings.[18] Chief Justice John Roberts has pushed for greater consensus on the Court,[19] saying that the court functions best “when it can deliver one clear and focused opinion.”[20]

An advantage of this path to ideological balance is that it allows for a greater range of perspectives among the different Justices. Instead of nine relatively moderate Justices, we would get a mix of conservative and liberal Justices. And that would make for a stronger decision making process. Studies on group decision making demonstrate that better outcomes result when the decision makers bring a range of viewpoints to the table.[21] Accordingly, I discuss this path to ideological balance in the remainder of this essay.

How large should a supermajority be? Since there may be times when six Justices are either conservative or liberal, it probably would be necessary to require more than a two-thirds supermajority to ensure that decisions always reflect the perspectives of both sides of the philosophical divide. We could require at least a 7-2 vote or even decisionmaking by consensus of the entire Court.

B.  Ideological Bias and Original Intent

What would the framers think about this? On one hand, they did not include in Article III of the Constitution a requirement for ideological balance on the Supreme Court. On the other hand, they did not reject ideological balance. Moreover, they recognized the need to amend the Constitution with a Bill of Rights that includes the Due Process Clause’s guarantee of impartial courts.

The framers’ intent is consistent with this essay’s due process analysis. With ideological balance, the Supreme Court would be more faithful to the framers’ design for our constitutional system. The Founding Fathers worried greatly about “factions” pursuing their self-interest to the detriment of the overall public good. Accordingly, the constitutional drafters devised a system that they thought would block factional control of the national government.[22] But the framers did not anticipate the extent to which political parties would form dominant factions that could gain command of government power. For example, the framers did not anticipate how partisan ties between presidents and members of Congress would limit the legislative branch’s checking and balancing of the executive branch.[23] Similarly, the framers did not expect—nor did they want—a Supreme Court that would reflect the views of only one side of the ideological spectrum. Indeed, when Alexander Hamilton explained the Constitution’s appointment provisions in The Federalist Papers, he emphasized the need to avoid nominations that reflect partiality instead of the overall public interest.[24]

The Due Process Clause and original intent both support ideological balance on the Supreme Court. As discussed in the next section, Supreme Court precedent is consistent with such a requirement.

C.  Ideological Bias and Supreme Court Precedent

In previous cases, the Supreme Court has observed that constitutional concerns are not raised when a judge favors one or another ideological view.[25] Anyone with the appropriate training and experience for the judiciary will have opinions on important legal issues. According to the Court, due process prohibits judicial bias against a party to a proceeding, not bias against a legal view that the party might advocate.[26]

But there are important reasons to distinguish Court discussions of the issue. First, these discussions were dicta. The question whether it is impermissible for an appellate court to have an overall ideological bias has not been decided by the Court. Rather, it has come up in cases addressing other issues of judicial neutrality. In Republican Party of Minnesota v. White, for example, the issue before the Court was whether a state could prohibit judicial candidates from announcing their positions on issues that might come before them if elected.[27] In another case, Tumey v. Ohio, the issue before the Court was whether judges could have a financial stake in the outcome of their decisions.[28]

Second, the Court’s reasoning is consistent with a due process argument against a Court that has an overall ideological bias. In Republican Party of Minnesota, the Justices discussed the kinds of personal biases that should disqualify a judge, and the Court wrote that a judge’s ideological bias is not disqualifying in the way that a personal financial bias is disqualifying. It took that view in Republican Party of Minnesota and earlier cases because anyone who has the experience and training that would be desirable in a judge will inevitably develop an ideological bias.[29] But the fact that we must accept individual judges with ideological leanings does not prevent us from ensuring an overall ideological balance on the Court. Under a fair reading of the Constitution, litigants ought to be able to ensure that their cases are decided in an ideologically-balanced way.

In addition, it is difficult to identify a good reason for permitting the Court to function with a majority on one side or the other of the ideological spectrum. While we can point to the principle of majority rule to justify partisan control in the executive or legislative branches, popular majorities do not deserve special recognition in a judicial branch that should be guided by legal principle rather than prevailing sentiment.

d.  Potential concerns with a requirement of ideological balance

In general, concerns about cost, efficiency, and fairness have limited policies to address judicial bias.[30] For example, one solution to judicial bias is recusal of the biased judge. But if reasons for recusal are not strictly limited, litigants might clog the courts with baseless recusal motions,[31] and lawyers might exploit the rules to game the system in favor of their clients.[32] Supreme Court Justices also have resisted strict recusal rules on the ground that there is no one who can step in for the disqualified Justice.[33] A supermajority requirement avoids the problems raised by judicial disqualification. It addresses bias not by removing partial Justices, but by counterbalancing their partialities. 

Still, one might worry that a supermajority requirement would lead the Court to deadlock with some frequency and leave too many issues to be decided by the lower courts. However, a few considerations indicate that it is unlikely to do so. First, the Justices would have a strong incentive to find common ground. Supreme Court Justices want to leave their imprint on the law—after spending years, if not decades, maneuvering for a Court appointment and having reached the pinnacle of the judiciary, they would be driven by their desire to leave an important judicial legacy. If the Justices spent their years on the Court bogged down in gridlock, they would not be able to issue key decisions that would allow them to make a difference in resolving critical legal questions. Accordingly, they would come to accommodations that would allow them to issue important decisions.

Empirical evidence supports this prediction. High courts operate successfully under a supermajority requirement in other countries. In addition, the U.S. Supreme Court has effectively operated under a supermajority requirement from time to time. On a number of occasions, the Court has heard cases with only eight members and therefore has needed a 62.5% supermajority (5/8) to reach a decision. Sometimes this happens when a seat is temporarily unfilled; other times when Justices take ill or have to recuse themselves.[34] In a study of the 1,319 cases in which a tie could have occurred between the 1946 and 2003 terms of the Court, researchers found that a tie vote occurred less than 6% of the time.[35] And, of course, a number of landmark decisions have been decided by a supermajority vote. A 9-0 Court issued its opinion in Brown v. Board of Education,[36] a 7-2 Court issued its opinion in Roe v. Wade,[37] and a 4-0 Court issued its opinion in Marbury v. Madison.[38]

The experience with juries also suggests that supermajority courts would reach decisions regularly. Criminal court juries typically have twelve members, and they usually have to reach unanimous decisions. Hung juries occur, but not very often.[39] Moreover, juries reach their unanimous decisions in a setting that allows for less compromise than does a decision by the Supreme Court. A criminal jury must acquit or convict.[40] The example of juries is important for a second reason. I have argued that to be impartial, the Court should issue decisions that reflect the views of Justices from both sides of the ideological spectrum.[41] Similarly, in defining the meaning of an impartial jury, the Supreme Court has required that jurors be drawn from a fair cross-section of the community.[42]

Game theory provides further reason to believe that the Court would find middle ground regularly under a supermajority requirement. Game theory can identify the kinds of relationships that are likely to encourage cooperative rather than oppositional strategies.[43] The Supreme Court includes important elements of cooperative relationships. For example, when individuals have an ongoing relationship with frequent and repeated interactions, as with members of the Court, they are much more likely to choose cooperation with each other than when they have a one-shot relationship. Cooperation is also more likely in relationships with an indefinite time horizon, as with Justices who have lifetime appointments, than when there is a finite time horizon. Finally, cooperation is more common among individuals who come to their relationship with equal status and authority. That is true about Supreme Court Justices, except perhaps with Chief Justices. The extra authority of a Chief Justice may not be that important, but if it is, we could make the Chief’s role a rotating position, as is the case with some state supreme courts.[44]

Conclusion

There is much dissatisfaction among Supreme Court observers with the Court and its appointment process. And as the Court’s decisions and appointment process have become increasingly divisive, public approval of the Supreme Court has declined. A majority of Americans once expressed strong confidence in the court. According to a July 2018 Gallup poll, only 37% do now.[45] Reforming the Supreme Court would do much to restore public faith in the Court. And it also would bring the Court into conformity with the requirements of due process.

 


[*] *. Cobeaga Law Firm Professor of Law, UNLV William S. Boyd School of Law; M.D., Harvard Medical School; J.D., Harvard Law School. This essay draws on my earlier discussions of ideological bias, infra note 2, and makes the novel argument that ideological balance is constitutionally required. I am grateful for the comments of Judy Failer and Ruben Garcia, the research assistance of Lena Rieke, and the editorial assistance of Daniel Brovman and other Southern California Law Review editors.

 [1]. While the U.S. Senate approved the appointment of Justice Anthony Kennedy by a 97-0 vote, his successor, Justice Brett Kavanaugh, squeaked by on a vote of 50-48. Similarly, the Senate approved Justice Antonin Scalia by a vote of 98-0, while the vote on his successor, Justice Neil Gorsuch, was 54-45. Supreme Court Nominations: present-1789, U.S. Senate, https://www.senate.gov/pagelayout
/reference/nominations/Nominations.htm (last visited Oct. 20, 2018).

 [2]. I have previously discussed the desirability of ideological balance on the Supreme Court in David Orentlicher, Politics and the Supreme Court: The Need for Ideological Balance, 79 U. Pitt. L. Rev. 411 (2018), and David Orentlicher, Two Presidents Are Better Than One: The Case for a Bipartisan Executive 2731 (2013).

 [3]. See generally Roger C. Cramton & Paul D. Carrington, Reforming the Court: Term Limits for Supreme Court Justices (2006).

 [4]. Many states have judicial nominating commissions, though they tend to be partisan since the governor appoints many of the commission members. See, e.g., Ind. Const. art. VII, § 9; Kan. Const. art. III, § 5(e).

 [5]. The logic of my argument also would apply to the circuit courts of appeal, as well as state appellate courts.

 [6]. Martin H. Redish & Jennifer Aronoff, The Real Constitutional Problem with State Judicial Selection: Due Process, Judicial Retention, and the Dangers of Popular Constitutionalism, 56 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 1, 34, 3637 (2014).

 [7]. Charles Gardner Geyh, The Dimensions of Judicial Impartiality, 65 Fla. L. Rev. 493, 499–509 (2013).

 [8]. Likewise, if a fifth liberal Justice had joined the Court, parties promoting a conservative viewpoint would not be able to count on a fair shot at prevailing.

 [9]. Confirmation Hearing on the Nomination of John G. Roberts, Jr. to Be Chief Justice of the United States: Hearing Before the S. Comm. on the Judiciary, 109th Cong. 56 (2005).

 [10]. Lee Epstein et al., The Behavior of Federal Judges: A Theoretical and Empirical Study of Rational Choice 103 (2013).

 [11]. Lee Epstein et al., Ideological Drift Among Supreme Court Justices: Who, When, and How Important?, 101 Nw. U. L. Rev. 1483, 1491 (2007).

 [12]. Georg Vanberg, The Politics of Constitutional Review in Germany 83 (2005); Bruce Ackerman, The New Separation of Powers, 113 Harv. L. Rev. 633, 669 (2000).

 [13]. John Ferejohn & Pasquale Pasquino, Constitutional Adjudication: Lessons from Europe, 82 Tex. L. Rev. 1671, 1682 (2004).

 [14]. This approach would be especially valuable at the district court level, where there is a single judge deciding cases.

 [15]. Orentlicher, supra note 2, at 417–23.

 [16]. European Parliament, Dissenting Opinions in the Supreme Courts of the Member States (2012),  http://www.europarl.europa.eu/document/activities/cont/201304/20130423ATT64963
/20130423ATT64963EN.pdf

 [17]. Cass R. Sunstein, Unanimity and Disagreement on the Supreme Court, 100 Cornell L. Rev. 769, 771 (2015).

 [18]. Id. at 776–77.

 [19]. Hope Yen, Roberts Seeks Greater Consensus on Court, Wash. Post (May 21, 2006), http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/05/21/AR2006052100678.html.

 [20]. Geoffrey R. Stone, Chief Justice Roberts and the Role of the Supreme Court, Huffington Post (May 25, 2011), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/geoffrey-r-stone/chief-justice-roberts-and_b
_40277.html.

 [21]. Alan Blinder, The Quiet Revolution: Central Banking Goes Modern 43 (2004); Scott E. Page, The Difference: How the Power of Diversity Creates Better Groups, Firms, Schools, and Societies 2–3 (2007); Lu Hong & Scott E. Page, Groups of Diverse Problem Solvers Can Outperform Groups of High-Ability Problem Solvers, 101 Proc. Nat’l Acad. Sci. 16385 (2004).

 [22]. Geoffrey R. Stone et al., Constitutional Law 18–21 (7th ed. 2013).

 [23]. Daryl J. Levinson & Richard H. Pildes, Separation of Parties, Not Powers, 119 Harv. L. Rev. 2311, 2313, 232324 (2006).

 [24]. The Federalist No. 76 (Alexander Hamilton).

 [25]. The Court’s opinion in Republican Party of Minnesota v. White, 536 U.S. 765 (2002), provides a nice summary of the Court’s discussions of the topic.

 [26]. Id. at 77778.

 [27]. Id. at 768. The Court held that the prohibition violated the First Amendment. Id. at 788.

 [28]. Tumey v. Ohio, 273 U.S. 510, 514–15 (1927). The Court held that the judges’ financial interests violated due process. Id at 534.

 [29]. Republican Party of Minnesota, 536 U.S. at 77778.

 [30]. Geyh, supra note 7, at 514–15.

 [31]. Caperton v. A.T. Massey Coal Co., 556 U.S. 868, 890–91, 899–900 (2009) (Roberts C.J., dissenting).

 [32]. Id. at 903 (Scalia, J., dissenting).

 [33]. Gabriel Serbulea, Due Process and Judicial Disqualification: The Need for Reform, 38 Pepp. L. Rev. 1109, 1136–38 (2011).

 [34]. There also have been periods when the Court had an even number of Justices. For most of the period between 1789 and 1807, the Court had six members. Why Does the Supreme Court Have Nine Justices?, Const. Daily (July 6, 2018), https://constitutioncenter.org/blog/why-does-the-supreme-court
-have-nine-justices.

 [35]. Ryan Black & Lee Epstein, Recusals and the “Problem” of an Equally Divided Supreme Court, 7 J. App.  Pract. & Proc. 75, 85–86 (2005).

 [36]. Brown v. Bd. of Educ., 347 U.S. 483 (1954).

 [37]. Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113 (1973).

 [38]. Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. 137 (1803). The Marbury Court had six Justices, but two did not take part because of illness.

 [39]. Studies suggest an average hung jury rate of around 6% nationwide. Paula L. Hannaford-Agor et al., Are Hung Juries a Problem?: Executive Summary 2 (2002), https://www.ncjrs.gov
/pdffiles1/nij/grants/199372.pdf.

 [40]. In some cases, juries can compromise if they have the option of convicting on a less serious charge.

 [41]. See supra notes 921 and accompanying text.

 [42]. Taylor v. Louisiana, 429 U.S. 522, 526–27 (1975).

 [43]. Robert Axelrod, The Evolution of Cooperation 12432 (1984); Itzhak Gilboa, Rational Choice 10001 (2010); Ming Zeng & Xiao-Ping Chen, Achieving Cooperation in Multiparty Alliances: A Social Dilemma Approach to Partnership Management, 28 Acad. Mgmt. Rev. 587 passim (2003).

 [44]. See, e.g., Supreme Court Judges, Mo. Cts. https://www.courts.mo.gov/page.jsp?id=133 (last visited Nov. 8, 2018) (“[T]he chief justice typically is elected on a rotating basis by a vote of all seven Supreme Court judges to a two-year term.”). Or consider a model from Switzerland. The members of the Swiss Federal Council rotate through the position of president so they remain true equals in the Swiss executive branch.

 [45]. Megan Brenan, Confidence in Supreme Court Modest, but Steady, Gallup (July 2, 2018), https://news.gallup.com/poll/236408/confidence-supreme-court-modest-steady.aspx.

Profound Sophistication or Legal Sophistry?

From Volume 92, Postscript (November 2018)
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Profound Sophistication or Legal Sophistry?

Ediberto Roman,[*] Katryna Santa Cruz,[†] Melissa Gonzalez,[‡] and Dianet Torres[§]

In the midst of growing debate andaccording to widely publicized news accountsgrowing evidence against President Donald Trump’s impeachment, esteemed former Harvard Law Professor and public intellectual, Alan Dershowitz, recently published The Case Against Impeaching Trump.[1] In this brief, but passionate, defense of the President, Professor Dershowitz provides arguably the strongest legal argument against impeaching the Forty-Fifth President of the United States. Professor Dershowitz’s argument, while beautifully written, is largely a selectively applied textualist attempt to thwart the mounting evidence against President Trump and his administration.

Dershowitz argument boils down to the following: “[I]f a president has not committed any of these specified crimes [those specified in the Constitution], it would be unconstitutional to remove him, regardless of what else he may have done or may do.”[2] The Dershowitz defense focuses on the Constitution’s Impeachment ClauseArticle II, Section 4which provides: “The President, Vice President and all civil officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.”[3] Dershowitz’s argument is based on the premise that because “the Constitution speaks in clear terms, [its] plain meaning must prevail over other considerations.”[4] This argument is interesting because Dershowitz himself examines all of the subtle ambiguities that the Constitution’s lack of explanation creates, including: Can evidence be introduced? Who rules on admissibility? Common law? Exclusionary rule? Further, even Dershowitz recognizes the Constitution is missing a good deal of information on the issue of impeachment (in terms of Congressional trials for impeachment), but yet, according to Dershowitz, the Clause’s plain meaning should only allow for impeachment for treason and bribery.[5] Seems like his reading of the Constitution is a little too convenient.

According to Dershowitz’s argument, the Constitution provides the only basis for impeaching and removing the President of the United States, and in Trump’s case, there is no grounds for impeachment. The first part of his position—the Constitution provides the exclusive basis for impeachment—is uncontroversial. What is far more problematic is Dershowitz’s use of textualism. Dershowitz is both a self-professed champion of civil liberties as well as a textualist reader of the Constitution. Yet in this defense of Trump, the good professor fails to recognize one of the Constitution’s three stated grounds for impeachment, which is far from engaging in a textualist approach. In doing so, this champion of civil liberties fails to acknowledge a constitutional provision aimed at protecting the citizenry’s rights from tyrannical executive power. Dershowitz’s legitimate basis for impeachment focuses on only two of the three constitutional bases for impeachment: 1) treason and 2) bribery. Dershowitz’s lack of focus on a recognized reading of the third stated basis for impeachment is nothing short of perplexing especially given his textualist leaning and prior textualist positions. For example, he does not believe the Constitution includes privacy rights that protect a right to abortion because the document fails to specifically provide for such a right.[6]

Indeed, Dershowitz’s dismissal of the Constitution’s third specifically stated ground for impeachmentother high Crimes and Misdemeanors”is insufficiently explained in the book. This blatant omission leaves the reader wanting for a less partisan analysis. But before focusing on this shortcoming, an analysis of Dershowitz’s argument on what he views as the legitimate grounds for impeachment—treason and bribery—is in order.

In terms of his first legitimate basis for impeachment, Dershowitz notes that only treason is defined. The Constitution defines treason as “levying War against [the United States], or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort.”[7] This constitutional definition applies within Dershowitz’s textual approach, and is therefore a legitimate basis for impeachment. Though he admits that the second and third enumerated basesbribery, and high crimes and misdemeanorsare not defined in the Constitution, it is only the high crimes and misdemeanors basis that Dershowitz apparently finds fatally vague and therefore is an unavailable basis for impeachment.[8] Dershowitz apparently has less of a concern for bribery because it is a crime.[9] Dershowitz doesn’t openly state his antipathy for the high crimes or misdemeanors basis for impeachment. Instead, in what is an overall cryptic and truncated analysis, which amounts to no more than thirtytwo pages (including the book’s conclusion) of new materials (the remaining 114 pages of the book are excerpts of the professor’s previous editorials and interviews arguably related to his main thesis), Dershowitz spends the bulk of his argument addressing the purported procedural shortcomings of the high crimes impeachment basis attempting to limit its use to crimes.[10] Indeed, while Dershowitz spends virtually no time objecting to the bribery basis for impeachmentwhich he admits is not defined in the text of the Constitution, causing him to look to bribery’s common law definitionhe harps on the high crimes basis, without effectively explaining this choice. Then instead of looking to what the drafters of the constitution stated concerning the high crimes or misdemeanor grounds for impeachmentor even looking to judicial or congressional pronouncements on the subjectDershowitz shifts his focus to attacking those that advocate a broad interpretation of the “and other high crimes and misdemeanor” basis. He ultimately rejects any reading of the impeachment clause that does not make a crime a prerequisite to impeachment.[11] As a result, he rejects previous interpretations by both President Ford, when he served in Congress, and current Congresswoman Maxine Waters; each have argued that high crimes and misdemeanors is whatever the house of representatives  deems appropriate.[12] Another questionable aspect of Dershowitz’s argument against impeachment is his effort at equating the process of impeachment to the procedural requirements of a criminal trial. Yet the Impeachment Clause does not call for a criminal proceeding for impeachment. Instead, it provides for a trial by the House of Representatives, a political endeavor by definition. Thus, Dershowitz’s criminal law and criminal procedure-based arguments may very well be misplaced. While the text of the Impeachment Clause is far from clear on this point, interestingly, Dershowitz does not consider that the very placement of “and other high crimes and misdemeanor” in the list of impeachable acts alone strongly suggests this clause is in fact the broadest, or even the catch-all, basis for impeachment.[13] Further, as a matter of statutory interpretation and basic sentence construction, the fact the broadest language happens to be listed last similarly suggests this basis should be read broadly. Indeed, such a broad reading was exactly what the framers of the Constitution intended. While Dershowitz, as a self-professed textualist, is no fan of anything other than the text of the Constitution if the text is unambiguous,[14] it is in interpreting the Constitution’s Impeachment Clause where the shortcomings of his approach are highlighted. Indeed, it is here where textualism falls short because it utterly fails to seek or acknowledge what the drafters of the Constitution intendedevidently because, according to Dershowitz, the text is in fact unambiguous. If the text is in fact unambiguous, why is the debate over its language still the subject of dispute 200 years later? Protestations to the contrary, the legislative history of the Impeachment Clause makes clear that the third basis for impeachment—high crimes and misdemeanors—was drafted and intended to be a broad catch-all provision. As Yale Professor Thomas I. Emerson observed:

[T]he founding fathers did not wish to take over the English practice lock, stock and barrel. Impeachment was intended to be applicable only in a narrower set of circumstances and with more limited results. Hence, after some preliminary discussion, the proposal was made that the President could be removed from office by impeachment and conviction “for treason, or bribery.” This was deemed too restricted and, after rejecting “maladministration” as a cause for impeachment, on the ground it was too broad, the Convention settled on the addition of other high crimes and misdemeanors.” The grounds for impeachment were thus intended to be limited but, apart from a narrow definition of treason elsewhere in the Constitution, the limits were not precisely delineated.[15]

Further, at the Constitutional Convention, the substitute phrase “high Crimes and Misdemeanors” was to be interpreted broadly. Madison in fact believed that it allowed the President to be tried “for any act which might be called a misdemeanor.”[16] Indeed, while debate remains on how broadly the high crimes or misdemeanors basis should be read,[17] even a narrow reading of the clause allows for impeachment for a host of wrongs in a variety of settings:

[A] standard that the framers intentionally set at this extraordinarily high level to ensure that only the most serious offenses and in particular those that subverted our system of government would justify overturning a popular election. Impeachment is not a remedy for private wrongs. It is a method of removing someone whose continued presence in office would cause grave danger to the Nation.[18]

The weight of scholarly authority recognizes the “high Crime and Misdemeanors” Clause should be interpreted to address serious wrongs, but ultimately those wrongs can arise in a wide variety of ways.[19] As one scholar observed, Congressional practice confirms that “high Crimes and Misdemeanors” is broad enough in scope to reach all misconduct that undermines fitness to serve.[20] Professor Stephen Presser, a leading scholar on this constitutional provision, for instance, agreed with Gerald Ford’s famous suggestion that high Crimes and Misdemeanors means anything the House of Representatives wants it to mean when arguing that the provision reflects the essential notion that the Constitution confers broad discretion on the House of Representatives to make up its own mind about what kinds of conduct should lead to an impeachment proceeding. [W]hile giving members of Congress discretion to determine whether a particular act or series of acts amounts to grounds for impeachment, [the Constitution] requires them to move forward to impeach if they determine there are such acts.”[21] Professor Gary L. McDowell, similarly found, “[i]n the end, the determination of whether presidential misconduct rises to the level of ‘high Crimes and Misdemeanors,’ as used by the Framers, is left to the discretion and deliberation of the House of Representatives. No small part of that deliberation . . . must address what effect the exercise of this extraordinary constitutional sanction would have on the health of the Republic . . . .[22] Imminent constitutional scholar, Professor Cass R. Sunstein, likewise observed: “[t]ext, history, and longstanding practice suggest that the notion of ‘high Crimes and Misdemeanors’ should generally be understood to refer to large-scale abuses that involve the authority that comes from occupying a particular public office.”[23]

Dershowitz spends no time addressing either this legislative history or scholarly analysis. Instead of contending with the bulk of authority on the matter, he employs a tried and true lawyerly tact: instead of defending a difficult position, it is far easier and perhaps at times more persuasive to go the offensive and attack the position of others that take a differing view. Indeed, instead of examining the case law explaining and interpreting “other high Crimes or Misdemeanors,” which he briefly undertakes with respect to the bribery cases, Dershowitz proceeds to attack “the most extreme and reductionist” defenses of a broad reading of the high crimes and misdemeanor basis.[24] Yet, even under the tenets of his own textualist philosophy, his argument fails. Under a textualist approach, recourse to the ‘legislative history’ or intended ‘original meaning’ is inappropriate when the words are unambiguous. The plain meaning under such circumstances must prevail over all other interpretative mechanisms, since it was the word, not the intentions behind them, that were voted on and accepted. But even under a textualist approach, if the text is ambiguousand the high crimes and misdemeanor language is far from unambiguousfurther inquiry is necessary, particularly into the Framers intent.[25] It is here where the book’s analysis is weakest because Dershowitz fails to accept the value of further inquiry when text is ambiguous. Thus, a reader is left with a scant interpretation, lacking any significant legal reinforcement.

In terms of President Trump’s potential impeachment, Dershowitz, somewhat unsurprisingly argues that impeachment would be inappropriate because the alleged wrongs purportedly committed by President Trump involve neither treason nor bribery—two of his legitimate enumerated wrongs under Article II’s Impeachment Clause.[26] While Dershowitz may be correct that any charges or claims against President Trump may not involve bribery, there are growing calls arguing President Trump has in fact committed treason.[27] Perhaps more importantly, Dershowitz’s primary analytical flaw is that he simply ignores the text of the Constitution, its interpretation in terms of legislative history, and case law on the third impeachable basis under Article II’s Impeachment Clause: high crimes or misdemeanors.

In the end, Dershowitz attempts to largely ignore a broad reading of “other high Crimes and Misdemeanors” either because he may appreciate they provide problems for his client,[28] or following his stated reasons, such wrongs are not defined in Article II or other parts of the Constitution and there are no procedural requirements set forth for convictions of such crimes.[29] Yet his stated reasons are supported with slight authority and scant analysis. Dershowitz’s analysis is accordingly incomplete, thereby allowing the professor to accept bribery as a legitimate ground for impeachment (even permitting him to look to the common law, ever so briefly, on bribery), but in almost the same breath, he refuses to examine the legislative history of the Constitution, the common law, or the weight of authority on the high crimes or misdemeanor basis for impeachment. Any of these inquiries would have provided not only a more thoughtful undertaking, but also valuable guidance for interpreting the high crimes and misdemeanors basis for impeachment. It should not be forgotten, and he may himself point out, that he refuses to engage in an analysis that goes beyond the text’s “plain meaning.” However, in his own words, “‘other Crimes and Misdemeanors’ are not defined.”[30] So, according to his own preferred interpretive approach, we should not become inflexible and inexplicably resort to the plain meaning when there is textual ambiguity in this case. Not only will case law and legislative history analysis provide the reader with a more thoughtful undertaking, they are essential to understanding the text itself.

Ultimately, in what appears to be an apologist’s vain effort, Dershowitz does not address historical precedent, including the obstruction of justice charges brought in President Clinton’s impeachment proceedings,[31] and the proposed charges against President Nixon,[32] which were each based on high Crimes and Misdemeanors, and specially contained obstruction of justice charges (the likely charges against President Trump if impeachment is recommended).[33] Moreover, in the four lengthy legal opinions on impeachment and criminal charges against a president drafted by the Justice Department’s Legal Office and the Office of Special Counsel in the Nixon impeachment effort, as well as in Clinton’s impeachment, there was no hesitation to accept that a president could be impeached under the high Crimes and Misdemeanors provision of the Impeachment Clause of Article II.[34] Despite these historical facts, in one chapter of the book, Dershowitz tries to defend the President against any impending charge by arguing Trump cannot be charged with obstruction of justice where he was just basically doing what he has the power to do.[35] The problem with this argument is that it not only disregards the law of obstruction of justice, on which there is extensive caselaw and scholarship,[36] but also that Dershowitz, as a champion of civil liberties, astonishingly argues for a form of executive supremacy that would in fact make a sitting president above the law.[37]

In essence, despite the wealth of authority stating the contrary, Dershowitz asserts that a president can only be impeached for a crime. Yet his textual argument falls flat under its own weight—Dershowitz wants the interpretation of the Constitution’s Impeachment Clause to follow the enumerated wrongs listed in the Clause while also completely ignoring a specifically stated basis for impeachment that has historically and repeatedly been interpreted to be the broadest basis for impeachment. In the end, Dershowitz asserts that it would be dangerous to use a broad reading of “high Crimes and Misdemeanors because doing so could jeopardize our system of government.[38] How it would do so remains unclear, however. And even for somewhat playful arguments’ sake, if Dershowitz is correct in his selective reading of Article II’s Impeachment Clause, as he himself admits, more than one political candidate, including Professor Richard Painter, who is running for the U.S. Senate, has asserted that Trump’s actions amount to Treason.[39] Dershowitz harshly criticizes Painter, saying that he “should read the words of the Constitution, rather than making up crimes for partisan and personal advantage.”[40] Interestingly, Dershowitz defends his own “pure motives” for writing the book by noting how many individuals and even legal scholars have accused him of doing the very same thing: “My motives have also been questioned by some of my academic and political colleagues. Am I being paid? Am I auditioning to be Trump’s lawyer?”[41]

In conclusion, Dershowitz asserts that he merely wants to focus on the importance of following precedent,[42] arguably the most interesting assertion in the book. Yet in his defense of President Trump, Professor Dershowitz fails to examine the legal precedent on the law concerning impeachment. Much like his attacks on those he differs with in this book, Professor Dershowitz is being selectively principled with his arguments and review of the law. Perhaps the following best highlights a flaw in this book: it is evidently shameless for Painter to attack President Trump while Painter is running for office, but it is not shameless for Dershowitz to defend Trump while Dershowitz is selling books? Further, by his own admission, Dershowitz wants all to appreciate the importance of precedence,[43] but he fails or refuses to address legal precedence when dismissing “high Crimes and Misdemeanors” as a basis for impeachment, despite said basis being used against both President Clinton and President Nixon.

 


[*] *.. Professor of Law, Florida International University College of Law.

[†] †.. J.D. Candidate 2020, Florida International University College of Law.

[‡] ‡.. J.D. Candidate 2020, Florida International University College of Law.

[§] §.. J.D. Candidate 2020, Florida International University College of Law.

 [1]. Alan Dershowitz, The Case Against Impeaching Trump (2018).

 [2]. Id. at 1.

 [3]. U.S. Const. art. II, § 4.

 [4]. Dershowitz, supra note 1, at 10.

 [5]. See Dershowitz, supra note 1, at 5.

 [6]. Sandy Fitzgerald, Alan Dershowitz: Constitution Doesn’t Guarantee Right to Abortion, Newsmax (Oct. 27, 2013), https://www.newsmax.com/newsfront/dershowitz-constitution-abortion
/2013/10/27/id/533294.

 [7]. U.S. Const. art. III, § 3.

 [8]. See Dershowitz, supra note 1, at 3.

 [9]. See Dershowitz, supra note 1, at 2–3, 10.

 [10]. Id. at 3–7.

 [11]. Id. at 12.

 [12]. Id. at 7–8.

 [13]. Dershowitz’s attack on the “ejusdem generis” argument is peculiar. He says that that the argument is built on a ‘logical fallacy’ but (1) that’s absolutely untrue because this argument is based on the basics of grammar and (2) he doesn’t back up his point. Further, he goes on to talk about how a crime is needed. But we have that in Trump’s case: obstruction of justice.

 [14]. See Dershowitz, supra note 1, at, 17.

 [15]. Thomas Emerson, Impeachment: The Constitutional Problems, 74 Colum. L. Rev. 131, 131 (1974) (emphasis added).

 [16]. John O. McGinnis, Impeachment: The Structural Understanding, 67 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 650, 653 (1999).

 [17]. See generally Mark Slusar, Comment, The Confusion Defined: Questions and Problems of Process in The Aftermath of the Clinton Impeachment, 49 Case W. Res. L. Rev. 869 (1999).

 [18]. Id. at 872.

 [19]. See generally, e.g., Lawrence Tribe, Defining “High Crimes And Misdemeanors”: Basic Principles, 67 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 712 (1999).

 [20]. Id. at 712–15.

 [21]. Stephen B. Presser, Would George Washington Have Wanted Bill Clinton Impeached?, 67 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 666, 676 (1999).

 [22]. Gary L. McDowell, “High Crimes and Misdemeanors”: Recovering the Intentions of the Founders, 67 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 626, 649 (1999).

 [23]. Cass R. Sunstein, Impeachment and Stability, 67 Geo Wash. L. Rev. 699, 711 (1999)

 [24]. See Dershowitz supra note 1, at 7–8.

 [25]. See generally Linda Jellum, The Art of Statutory Interpretation: Identifying The Interpretive Theory of the Judges of the United States Court of Appeals for Veterans’ Claims and the United States Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit, 49 U. Louisville L. Rev. 59 (2010); Elliot M. Davis, The Newer Textualism: Justice Alito’s Statutory Interpretation, 30 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 983 (2007).

 [26]. Id. at 23–24.

 [27]. See, e.g., Matthew Bell, Did Trump Commit Treason in Helsinki?, PRI (July 17, 2018), https://www.pri.org/stories/2018-07-17/did-trump-commit-treason-helsinki; Grace Panetta, Former CIA Director John Brennan Said Trump’s Press Conference with Putin Was ‘Treasonous’ — Here’s What Legal Experts Say, Bus. Insider (July 16, 2018), https://www.businessinsider.com/did-trump-committ-treason-russia-summit-2018-7; Ian Schwartz, Ralph Peters: Trump “Committed Treason” if He Got Info from Russians, Attacking Press Like Goebbels, Real Clear Pol. (Aug. 1, 2018), https://www.realclearpolitics.com/video/2018/08/01/ralph_peters_trump_committed_treason_if_he_got_info_from_russians_attacking_press_like_goebbels.html.

 [28]. Though he has repeatedly denied he represents Trump, he at least takes the position of an apologist for Trump.

 [29].  See Dershowitz supra note 1, at 7–8.

 [30]. See The Clinton Impeachments, Justia: US Law, https://law.justia.com/constitution/us/article
-2/55-the-clinton-impeachment.html (last visited Nov. 5, 2018).

 [31]. Approved Articles of Impeachment, Wash. Post, https://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/politics/special/clinton/stories/articles122098.htm (last visited Oct. 23, 2018) (presenting the text of the articles of impeachment against Bill Clinton).

 [32]. Dan Nonicki, In 1974, Goldwater and Rhodes Told Nixon He Was Doomed, AZCentral (Aug. 2, 2014), https://www.azcentral.com/story/azdc/2014/08/03/goldwater-rhodes-nixon-resignation
/13497493.

 [33]. Articles of Impeachment, Watergate.info, http://watergate.info/impeachment/articles-of-impeachment (last visited Oct. 23, 2018) (presenting Article 1 of the Articles of Impeachment against Richard Nixon adopted by the House Judiciary Committee on July 27, 1974, contain an obstruction of justice charge).

 [34]. Charlie Savage, Newly Discovered Clinton-era Memo Says Presidents Can Be Indicted, N.Y. Times (July 22, 2017), https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/07/22/us/document-Savage-NYT-FOIA-Starr-memo-presidential.html (Appendix to the article); see also Jack Maskell, Cong. Res. Serv., Status of a Senator Who Has Been Indicted for or Convicted of a Felony (2015), https://fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/RL34716.pdf; A Sitting President’s Amenability to Indictment and Criminal Prosecution, Dep’t of Justice, https://www.justice.gov/olc/opinion/sitting-president%E2%80%99s-amenability-indictment-and-criminal-prosecution (last visited Oct. 23, 2018).

 [35]. Dershowitz supra note 1, at 24.

 [36]. See Ediberto Roman et al., Collusion, Obstruction of Justice, and Impeachment, 45 Notre Dame J. Legis. (forthcoming 2018).

 [37]. Dershowitz supra note 1, at 24.

 

 [38]. Dershowitz supra note 1, at 5–6.

 [39]. Id.

 [40]. Id.

 [41]. Id. at 54.

 [42]. Id. at 27.

 [43]. Id. at 3.

 

Quid Pro No: When Rolexes, Ferraris, and Ball Gowns Are Not Political Currency – Note by Daniel Brovman

From Volume 92, Number 1 (November 2018)
DOWNLOAD PDF 


 

Quid Pro No:
When Rolexes, Ferraris, and Ball Gowns Are Not Political Currency

Daniel Brovman[*]

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I. Factual and Procedural Background

II. The Supreme Court’s Decision in
McDonnell v. United States and its
Misguided Theories

III. The Court Erred: Why, How, and What This
Means for its Democracy-Reinforcing Role

A. Why the Court’s View on Access Is Incorrect

B. Why Contradictory Public Opinion Problematizes
the Court’s Holding

C. How the Amici Blinded the Court to Public Opinion

D. How the Court’s Actions Relate to the
Usefulness (or Lack Thereof) of Amicus Briefs

E. In Deferring to Amici and Neglecting
Inequalities and Public Opinion, the Court
Failed to Reinforce Democracy

IV. Possible Solutions

A. Rectifying the Court’s Failure to Reinforce
Democracy

B. Rectifying the Court’s Reliance on Amicus Briefs

C. Rectifying the Basis of the Court’s Failure:
A Statute Ill-Equipped to Tackle Corruption

Conclusion

 

INTRODUCTION

The misfortune of a republic is when intrigues are at an end; which happens when the people are gained by bribery and corruption: in this case they grow indifferent to public affairs, and avarice becomes their predominant passion. Unconcerned about the government and everything belonging to it, they quietly wait for their hire.[1]

In its recent decision in McDonnell v. United States, a case concerning corruption charges against the former Governor of Virginia, Robert McDonnell, the Supreme Court faced a seemingly simple question of statutory interpretation: what constituted an “official act” for the purposes of the bribery statute, 18 U.S.C. § 201(a)(3).[2] In reality, not only did it answer a question far more complicated, but also, it provided far more than a simple answer.

In its attempt to reinforce democracy, the Court failed. Instead, it validated a pernicious definition of access, in which paid-for access, pay-to-play schemes, and bribery are the norm. Specifically, in claiming that this maligned form of access was necessary for a functioning democracy, the Court endorsed political norms that are, in fact, corrosive to society: stratified access to politicians and by association, democratic institutions. The Court ignored the reality of pervasive and systemic inequalityranging from political, economic, social, and racialin contemporary American society and the effect that inequality has on access. However, the Court did not arrive there alonethe many amici filing on behalf of the petitioner blinded itat least partiallyto the aforementioned realities and public opinion.

In short, in McDonnell, the Court claimed that its concern was not with the “tawdry tales” of a pay-to-play political culture in which Ferraris, Rolexes, and ball gowns carry political currency, but rather “with the broader legal implications of the Government’s boundless interpretation of the federal bribery statute.”[3] However, while so claiming, the Court narrowed not only the definition of what could constitute an “official act,” but also overturned hundreds of years of jurisprudence on corruption law to democracy’s and the public’s detriments.[4] Although a valid exercise of statutory interpretation, the Court nonetheless acted with ignorance to the realities of political bribery.

Part I of this Note provides a brief explanation of the instant case, including a discussion of its factual background and procedural history, as well as a brief discussion on the bribery statute used in the Eastern District of Virginia’s prosecution of McDonnell.

Part II then focuses on the Supreme Court’s analysis of the case. Although briefly reviewing the Court’s interpretation of the bribery statute, this Part focuses primarily on the dicta in the Court’s opinion. Here, I argue that the Court relied heavily on amici, implicitly assumed an equal playing field regarding access to politicians, and predicated its opinion on that equality, thus preserving that access. In this section of its opinion, the Court espoused a number of fears regarding the lower courts’ interpretation of what constituted an “official act,” almost all of which Governor McDonnell and other amici also discussed. Since statutory interpretation is an inexact science, the dicta showcases the Court’s real motivation behind its decisionmaking.

Part III then discusses where, why, and how the Court’s reasoning went wrong. First, I argue that the Court failed to consider social, political, and economic inequalities, all of which result in unequal access to politicians and public servants. Next, I argue that public opinion supports this notion that stratified access exists and ascribes a number of reasons for it, including, for example, campaign finance issues. Because that public opinion exists, I also argue that the Court could have examined stratified access in its opinion. After problematizing the Court’s perception of what constitutes access, I examine why the Court ultimately decided the way it did, arguing that amici blinded the Court to public opinion. Therefore, as a result, I contend that the Court attempted, but failed, to reinforce democracy by discussing access in dicta after having already established what constituted an “official act” earlier in its opinion. In summary, in attempting to promote democracy and reinforce it, the Court failed. Instead, it promoted something inherently corrosive to democracy.

Part IV of this Note suggests possible solutions. It suggests remedies to rectify what this Note problematizes in Parts II and III: the Court’s failure to reinforce democracy; the Court’s overreliance on amici and more generally, the problem of amicus briefs in Supreme Court jurisprudence; and finally, the problematic and limiting wording of the bribery statute used to prosecute Governor McDonnell. First, this Note suggests a limited rapprochement between the Court and public opinion, suggesting various methods for the Court to assess public opinion and prevent walling itself off as an elite institution. Second, this Note also suggests a number of remedies related to the role of amicus briefs in Supreme Court jurisprudence, including, but not limited to, limiting the actual number of amici that may file, while also providing rules and guidelines for ensuring novel arguments from amici. Finally, this Note suggests various ways that Congress could amend the bribery statute to mirror public sentiment by tracking ethics and public corruption reforms in New York as a baseline for nationwide reform efforts.

Beyond providing valuable insight into how the Supreme Court interacts with amici and amicus briefs and how those interactions may affect the Court’s role as a democracy-reinforcing institution, the instant case also provides an interesting outlook on the current state of public corruption prosecutions. In the Southern District of New York (“S.D.N.Y.”), where the U.S. Attorney’s Office has relentlessly tackled public corruption in the state capital and elsewhere, numerous convictionsmost notably, those of Dean Skelos,[5] the former Majority Leader of the New York State Senate and Sheldon Silver,[6] the former Speaker of the New York State Assemblyhave been overturned. Although the Second Circuit maintained that sufficient evidence existed to prove that both defendants committed the crimes alleged, it was still was forced to overturn the respective convictions because of the erroneous jury instructions.[7] The U.S. Attorney’s Office for S.D.N.Y. later retried these cases, winning convictions on both of them.[8] The McDonnell decision has also affected other corruption cases, like that of U.S. Senator Robert Menendez (D-N.J.),[9] in which the judge declared a mistrial.[10] The Supreme Court’s actions have had real consequences as the Court “has slowly eroded the country’s body of corruption laws” and resulted in a prosecutorial inability to challenge public corruption.[11] Therefore, the Court’s decision may not only affect the public, but also prosecutorsboth to their respective detriments.

As a result of the rising public opinion viewing government as inefficacious or corrupt,[12] coupled with pervasive and systemic inequality in the United States and the possible harmful effects the Court’s decision may have on democratic institutions, examining McDonnell and the Court’s underlying reasoning behind its decision is extremely valuable.

I.  Factual and Procedural Background

On January 21, 2014, the United States Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of Virginia indicted Virginia’s Governor, Robert McDonnell,[13] along with his wife, First Lady Maureen G. McDonnell, for their alleged roles in a “scheme to violate federal public corruption laws.”[14] The U.S. Attorney’s Office charged the couple with one count of conspiracy to commit honest-services wire fraud, six counts of obtaining property under color of official right, three counts of honest-services wire fraud, one count of conspiracy to obtain property under color of official right, and one count of making false statements to a federal credit union.[15]

The core of the indictment related to a relationship the couple had with the Chief Executive Officer (“CEO”) of a major pharmaceutical firm conducting business with the state, Star Scientific.[16] Prior to McDonnell’s election in 2010 and over the course of his campaign, Star Scientific’s CEO, Jonnie Williams Sr. (“JW”), and McDonnell and his wife developed an amicable relationship, meeting numerous times over the course of his campaign.[17] McDonnell and JW became friendlier, as McDonnell even began using JW’s private planes to shuttle between political events.[18] At one point, their relationship began to lay the foundation for the charged offenses, slowly discussing the “potential health benefits of anatabine and the need for scientific studies of these potential health benefits,” with McDonnell then placing JW in contact with other politicians and administrative officials.[19]

Even though McDonnell was elected governor in 2010, he continued to aid Star Scientific and received personal financial benefits from April 2011 until March 2013.[20] McDonnell received numerous forms of financial benefits, including luxury shopping trips, in return for arranging meetings for Star Scientific’s CEO with various high-ranking Virginian administrative officials and politicians, hosting events for the company as a means of promoting its products to Virginia state universities so that those universities would study the products and eventually refer new patients to those products.[21] Over the course of their relationship, McDonnell received at least $135,000, including shopping trips ($10,999 at Oscar de la Renta, $5,685 at Louis Vuitton, and $2,604 at Bergdorf Goodman),[22] loans for his daughter’s wedding (approximately $50,000 at an exceedingly low interest rate),[23] wedding gifts (approximately $15,000),[24] golf trips (at which McDonnell and his family charged approximately $2,380 to JW’s account),[25] and other forms of enrichment.[26] Not only did McDonnell receive that money, but also, he received it after he helped JW.[27] In return for all of the gifts McDonnell and his wife received, prosecutors argued that McDonnell arranged meetings and other opportunities for JW to market his company and products to other government officials.[28] The indictment also alleged numerous other instances of a seemingly quid pro quo relationship.[29]

On September 4, 2014, after a fiveweek trial and merely three days of jury deliberations, a unanimous jury, believing the law to be clear on the issues, found McDonnell guilty of extortion under color of official right, obtaining property under color of official right, and honest services wire fraud.[30] The jury also found his wife guilty of honest services wire fraud, extortion under color of official right, obtaining property under color of right, and obstruction of a federal proceeding.[31] In total, the jury found McDonnell guilty on eleven of the thirteen charges and his wife guilty on nine of the thirteen.[32]

McDonnell appealed his decision to the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals.[33] The appeal centered on the definition of official act. The trial court had used the government’s proposed jury instruction and defined an official act accordingly:

The term official action means any decision or action on any question, matter, cause, suit, proceeding, or controversy, which may at any time be pending, or which may by law be brought before any public official, in such public official’s official capacity. Official action as I just defined it includes those actions that have been clearly established by settled practice as part of a public official’s position, even if the action was not taken pursuant to responsibilities explicitly assigned by law. In other words, official actions may include acts that a public official customarily performs, even if those actions are not described in any law, rule, or job description. And a public official need not have actual or final authority over the end result sought by a bribe payor so long as the alleged bribe payor reasonably believes that the public official had influence, power or authority over a means to the end sought by the bribe payor. In addition, official action can include actions taken in furtherance of longer-term goals, and an official action is no less official because it is one in a series of steps to exercise influence or achieve an end.[34]

McDonnell argued to the Fourth Circuit that these jury instructions were in error,[35] claiming “the court’s definition was overbroad, to the point that it would seem to encompass virtually any action a public official might take while in office.”[36] According to McDonnell, the definition in the jury instructions would result in the inclusion of all acts of governance as “official acts,” because “[f]or public figures such as a governor, who interact with constituents, donors, and business leaders as a matter of custom and necessity, these activities might include such routine functions as attending a luncheon, arranging a meeting, or posing for a photograph.”[37] Essentially, McDonnell argued that the possible deleterious effects of the district court’s decision should drive the decisionmaking of the court of appeals.[38]

The court of appeals affirmed the jury verdict.[39] In arriving at that decision, the court of appeals reviewed and focused on McDonnell’s claims regarding the jury instructions on what constituted an “official act” for the purposes of the federal bribery statute,[40] which both sides agreed defined the “official act” or “official action” for the purposes of the honest services wire fraud statute and the Hobbs Act, respectively.[41] The court affirmed the lower court’s instructions to the jury that an “official act” constituted “any decision or action on any question, matter, cause, suit, proceeding or controversy, which may at any time be pending, or which may by law be brought before any public official, in such official’s official capacity, or in such official’s place of trust or profit.”[42] The court also emphatically rejected McDonnell’s arguments and fears associated with an expansive definition of “official act.”

The court refused to acknowledge McDonnell’s argument that the district court’s decision would have a harmful effect on politics and democratic institutions, and even rejected his proposed jury instructions, believing them either to misstate the law or to subject the jury through jury instructions to the defendant’s core legal arguments.[43] Finally, the court even entertained broadening the scope of what constituted an “official act” in spite of McDonnell’s plea to narrow it, thus firmly denying McDonnell’s argument.[44]

Taking his appeal to the Supreme Court, McDonnell again challenged the definition of an “official act”arguing it should be limited to exercising some form of government power or struck down as unconstitutional for being overly broad.[45] In that petition, McDonnell argued the Supreme Court had never defined “official acts” in such a broad manner.[46] To the contrary, McDonnell argued,

[n]ot only has this Court held that actions like a visit, speech, or meeting are not, standing alone, official acts, it has even held that paying for such access—through campaign contributions or independent expenditures—is constitutionally protected. While the government can forbid true corruption—i.e., the direct exchange of an official act for money—it may not target . . . the political access such [financial] support may afford.”[47]

According to McDonnell, paying for access—the ability to get a call answered or a meeting scheduled—is constitutionally protected and an intrinsic part of our political system.[48] Paying for access, therefore, constituted politics as usual and a fundamental part of the democratic system, which is protected much like other aspects of our democratic institutions such as voting and campaign finance.

The United States rejected McDonnell’s fears and reaffirmed its position that such quid pro quo agreements are unlawful poses no threat to legitimate political activity.”[49] It also noted that affecting a specific part of governmentor having a determinative effect on governmental policy or administrative outcomewas unnecessary for the purpose of applying the statute.[50]

II.  The Supreme Court’s Decision in McDonnell v. United States and its Misguided Theories

After McDonnell filed his Petition for Writ of Certiorari, eleven amici filed briefs in support of it.[51] On January 15, 2016, the Supreme Court granted McDonnell’s petition.[52] Shortly after the grant, the same amici filed again as did a number of others on behalf of McDonnell. Five amici eventually filed in support of the United States.[53] A mere six months later, on July 29, 2016, in a unanimous opinion, the Court vacated McDonnell’s conviction and remanded it to the district court.[54]

In that decision, the Court overturned the district court and court of appeal’s view on what constituted an “official act” and instead held that it “is a decision or action on a question, matter, cause, suit, proceeding or controversy.[55] The aforementioned question or matter “must involve a formal exercise of governmental power,” and “must also be something specific and focused that is ‘pending’ or ‘may by law be brought’ before a public official.”[56] In arriving at its decision, the Court analyzed the bribery statute, employing a quintessential form of statutory interpretation.[57] The Court first “examined the bribery statute’s text” and “next turned to § 201(a)(3)’s requirement of a decision or action.[58] As such, the Court used statutory interpretation to narrow what constituted an “official act” and to side with McDonnell’s interpretation rather than the Fourth Circuit’s. Finally, in deciding which definition applied, the Court also employed a familiar canon in Supreme Court jurisprudence: “a word is known by the company it keeps.”[59]

However, the Court also devoted a significant portion of its opinion to discussing, much like McDonnell did in his appeal and petition, the adverse effect on politics as usual if it were to support the government’s position and endorse the opinion of the lower courts.[60] Such commentary was provided in dicta[61]as discussed, the Court had already provided, through statutory interpretation, its belief that the court of appeals and the district court had erroneously defined what constituted an “official act.”

However, since “statutory interpretation is not a science but an art,”[62] understanding the Court’s motivations provides some clarity into what is otherwise an opaque analysis. Further, the Court discussed its concerns with the lower courts’ perspective on what constituted an “official act” only after using statutory interpretation to determine its definition and exploring that issue in fourteen pages of text.[63] For this reason and because “unlike mathematical symbols, the phrasing of a document, especially a complicated enactment, seldom attains more than approximate precision,” examining the background of a decision involving statutes is especially important.[64] The presence of that dicta in McDonnell can therefore reveal the Court’s reasoning in how it extracted precision from the relevant statute or with what motivations it undertook that task.

The Court embraced McDonnell’s discussion on the deleterious effects of the court of appeal’s assessment of what constituted an “official act” in three interconnected fears in dicta.[65] In doing so, the Court examined its desires to promote democracy by promoting access to politicians and allowing constituents and public servants to interact, to provide clear guidelines for politicians and public servants to avoid corrupt behavior, and finally, to preserve democracy by limiting the ability of overzealous prosecutors to target all public servants.

In discussing these fears and desires, the Court explicitly stressed the underlying importance of access to politicians in any democracy. So much so, it argued that access and interactions with public servants constituted a “basic compact underlying representative government” that assumed that “public officials will hear from their constituents and act appropriately on their concernswhether it is the union official worried about a plant closing or the homeowners who wonder why it took five days to restore power to their neighborhood after a storm.”[66] Therefore, JW’s access to McDonnellperhaps aboard his private jetwas necessary for democracy to operate effectively or at least with some marginal forms of representation. Accordingly, the Court validated paying for audiences with elected officials.[67] However, implicitly, the Court also granted those with the ability to pay for those audiences greater visibility with those that wield political power, out of a perceived necessity.[68]

In discussing its first fearof halting democracythe Court discussed the deleterious effects the lower courts’ decisions would have on governance and on any interactions constituents would have with their representatives. In discussing how the public engages their public officials, the Court noted that, “conscientious public officials arrange meetings for constituents, contact other officials on their behalf, and include them in events all the time.”[69] Regardless of socioeconomic status, race, or other statuses, the Court believed that politiciansas fundamental to their roleorganize and work on behalf of their constituents, which sometimes requires arrangements like the one in McDonnell. More importantly, the Court believed that these public officials would always respond to the calls and requests to meet with any of their constituents. Thus, the Court wanted to avoid a situation in which “citizens with legitimate concerns might shrink from participating in democratic discourse.”[70] Without the aforementioned access or interactions being possible, the Court feared that democracy would falter.

The Supreme Court espoused a second concern: that the lower courts decisions would create vagueness and difficult guidelines for politicians and public officials to follow. Specifically, in discussing this secondary concern, the Court noted, “under the Government’s interpretation, the term official act is not defined with sufficient definiteness that ordinary people can understand what conduct is prohibited, or in a manner that does not encourage arbitrary and discriminatory enforcement.[71] Such vagueness would occur because it would not be clear which conduct was legal and which conduct could result in an overly eager prosecutor in a U.S. Attorney’s Office taking note of a politician’s supposedly benign actions and subsequently issuing an indictment.[72] According to the Court, people in generaland not just politicianswould be unclear as to what constituted legal interactions with governing officials. This possibility could also feed into the Court’s first fear, namely, that the vagueness would have a chilling effect on governance.

The Court espoused a third fear as well. Along with the aforementioned theme of emboldening prosecutors, the Court also feared that supporting the court of appeals’ holding would bestow an unrivaled power on the government against defendants in criminal public corruption cases. The Court espoused this final fear, noting that “[u]nder the standardless sweep of the Government’s reading . . . public officials could be subject to prosecution, without fair notice, for the most prosaic interactions.”[73] As a result of the vagueness created by the lower courts reading of the statute, the Court adamantly believed that prosecutors would exploit the now broadened statute to target behavior that may or may not be corrupt. Despite the system of checks that exists for any public corruption prosecution, which requires numerous forms of approval from various Department of Justice officials,[74] the Court feared that federal prosecutors may, on the faintest trace of information suggesting corruption, prosecute with wild abandon.[75]

Accordingly, the Court perceived itself as a democracy-reinforcing institution because it believed that by upholding the trial courts decision, democracy would suffer. Specifically, upholding that decision would wreak havoc on the ability of government to function, perhaps bringing democracy to a screeching halt. Even in doing so, however, the Court did find the instant facts of McDonnell’s case problematic or even troublesome. It admitted that it condoned a maligned form of access acknowledging that the “governor’s activities were distasteful and crass and dishonest.[76] The Court even acknowledged that, at minimum, McDonnell provided JW with repeated access to governmental decisionmakers crucial to his business interests.[77] Thus, even though it interpreted statutes and applied dictionary definitions in that process, the Court still expressed some opinions regarding the facts of the case. Therefore, examining how the Court arrived at a point of both awareness that it promoted a disparaged concept of access while still voicing and premising its decision on the deleterious effects of that concept of access is of value.

III.  The Court Erred: Why, How, and What This Means for its Democracy-Reinforcing Role

Although the Court used statutory interpretation to decide the instant case, it discussed its motivating factors in dicta shortly after interpreting the relevant statutes. In doing so, it made implicit assumptions regarding political access, as indicated via the discussion in Part II. However, it is extremely worrying that the Court disregarded certain inequalities in the United States. First, in neglecting the pervasive inequalities that permeate American society, the Court also disregarded the widespread public opinion regarding public corruption and unequal access to politicians. Second, the Court overemphasized both the role of the amici and their voices. Its error here is especially problematic, as those amici did not expressly represent public opinion but rather emphasized and reemphasized McDonnell’s fears of the possible deleterious effects the lower courts decision may have on democratic institutions. These amici therefore provided a biased view on the issue. Finally, as a result of the above, the Court failed to reinforce democracy, one of its keystone roles.

A.  Why the Court’s View on Access Is Incorrect

As indicated above, preserving access to politicians motivated the Court’s decisionmaking.[78] Embracing a theory of participatory democracy, the Court believed that by promoting access to politicians and public servants, it advocated allowing constituents to play a role in the laws that govern society.[79] However, issues relating to inequality pervade American society, propounding a view to the contrary: the Court subscribed to a utopian democracy absent in American society.[80] The translation of a lack of access to democratic institutions into powerlessness, subsequently exacerbated by socioeconomic, racial, and economic inequalities, brings the Court’s aforementioned implicit assumptions into question. Access to politicians constitutes power, but when highly unequal access permeates any society, that inequality is corrosive to democracyand the Court’s decision ultimately perpetuated that highly unequal access.[81]

Inequality translates across the American political experience, from political inequalities that limit the ability for certain individuals to vote to economic inequalities limiting access to higher education and other social goods. All told, far from being a society in which all men are created equal, the American experience is one of harsh and pervasive inequality.[82] Although an inequality in access to politicians exists between donors to campaigns and non-donor constituents,[83] a review of other inequalities and how those inequalities translate to political experiences is of value when examining how extensive inequality is in modern America. However, despite numerous distinguishing and confounding factors that affect minority group experiences in the United States, the general experience is that “[g]roups that are ‘anonymous and diffuse’ . . . are systematically disadvantaged in a pluralist democracy.”[84] These systemic inequalities also can affect the success or lack thereof of specific groups in advancing their political agendas, again questioning the image of access the Court implicitly referenced.[85]

The Court also disregarded the role racial inequality may play in political access. Racial discrimination occurs in a wide variety of settings, including, but not limited to, financial lending and housing,[86] employment,[87] within the criminal justice system,[88] and education.[89] Alarmingly, these instances of discrimination are not limited to a purely non-political sphere, but rather pervade society. In testing the responsiveness rate of politicians to constituents based on varying the race of the constituent, researchers found that “U.S. state legislators were less responsive to requests from blacks than from whites for help with registering to vote when no signal about partisanship was given.”[90] In other instances and at a different level of government, the tone in response communications for public housing requests revealed “racial differences,” with “Hispanic housing applicants were 20 percentage points less likely to be greeted by name than were their black and white counterparts.”[91] At varying levels of governance and for differing requests, race plays a role in the contemporary American political experience, harming some while benefitting others. Despite the harmfulness of the possibility of race having a role in service provision, it is but one of the many factors that affects access.

Beyond the perniciousness of racial inequalities, economic inequality also affects access to politics and democracy in contemporary American society. At base, “[c]ampaign donations buy access to politicians” and “politicians themselves have admitted that big donors get special treatment.”[92] However, even removed from the explicit instances involving campaign donations, money, wealth, or income all have an effect on one’s role within American democracy. As wealthier individuals are more likely to vote, “[e]conomic inequality also feeds the political kind, driving everything from the actions of our political representatives to the quality and quantity of civic engagement.”[93] Beyond wealth having a positive effect on participation, economic inequalities also drive down the participation of those who are less advantaged, limiting access to those stricken by poverty.[94] Specifically, such inequalities result in “[d]eclining political interest,” which in turn suggests that “issues on which a consensus exists among richer individuals . . . become increasingly unlikely even to be debated within the political process regardless of whether poorer citizens would care to raise them.”[95] Accordingly, even with a desire to participate, some individuals lack the ability to do so because their financial statuses have already foreclosed any access to certain aspects of democracy.

Finally, other aspects of basic political inequalities that inherently stratify access exist as well, like felon voter disenfranchisement and voter identification laws. These forms of inequality directly limit certain individuals’ ability to participate in democracy by outlawing basic aspects of their participation in democratic systems. Although “the days of outright exclusion from the voting process are mostly behind us in the United States, there remains a steady stream of initiatives to limit participation.”[96] These methods include “inadequate voter outreach to poor or immigrant neighborhoods, poorly staffing polling places, [and] preventing some felons from voting,” thus almost eliminating the line between “neglect” and “willful disenfranchisement.”[97] Voter identification laws have a similar effect, at least inasmuch as the “laws skew democracy toward those on the political right” and “have a differentially negative impact on the turnout of racial and ethnic minorities in primaries and general elections.[98] Therefore, voter disenfranchisement limits an essential aspect of access to democratic institutions: the right to vote.[99] Regardless of the methods deployed to limit accessand if they are direct disenfranchisement or identification lawsthe effect is the same, as “the voices of some citizens are not heard” and lessens the “long-accepted principle that all citizens have effective access.”[100] In such instances, political access is not limited, but rather absent, with some individuals missing some of the essential forms of participating in a democracy.

In summary, a number of variables affect political access, all limiting the access of specific minorities or those with certain socioeconomic backgrounds. This inequality, of course, exists even without delving into the significant intersectionality of race, socioeconomic status, and other factors in contemporary American societythe reality that for certain groups, the intersection of minority status only serves to multiply their powerlessness.[101] The Court failed to consider the role of stratified access in the United States, as it simply validated the necessity of access without qualifying who actually has access and who does not. Although the reality of stratified access should be sufficient in showing the Court erred, public opinion indicating disapprobation towards that reality further underscores that the Court erred.

B.  Why Contradictory Public Opinion Problematizes the Court’s Holding

Inasmuch as the Court felt it reinforced democracy, it did so erroneously. The Court embraced a concept of access it believed to be crucial to a thriving democracy, but one that the public abhorred. Widespread public opinion regarding campaign finance reform, money in politics, and finally government corruption questions the theory of access the Court espoused. It further indicates that the Court may have been cognizant of how the public would perceive its theory regarding access, especially considering that the Court often responds to public opinion.[102] Yet in no place in its McDonnell opinion did it discuss public opinion.

Public opinion regarding government corruption indicates that, from the perspective of the general public, some inequality of access exists. Recent polling suggests that as much as 75% of Americans view their government as corrupt, and that “[t]his alarming figure has held steady since 2010, up from 66% in 2009.”[103] When presented with an option to choose between the federal government, the news media, banks and financial institutions, the police, and organized religions, a plurality of 38% of respondents chose the federal government as the most corrupt institution in the United States (leading the news media, which placed second, by more than 20 points).[104] Not only is the opinion that public corruption exists prominent in the United States, but also, it exists at a much higher percentage than in other Western countries, like the United Kingdom (46%), Canada (44%), Germany (38%), and Sweden (14%).[105]

The public’s perspective on campaign finance reform indicates that the public generally views disdainfully how politicians and administrative officials fundraise, and subsequently, the access afforded to the wealthy by politicians and administrative officials alike. Although the Court claimed that donating to campaigns in return for access does not constitute a quid pro quo relationship,[106] public opinion rejects that view. A poll from the Pew Research Center found that 76% of Americans believe that money has a greater influence on politics now than it has before, running across party lines.[107] Similarly, Americans, in a N.Y. TimesCBS News survey, viewed the political system as requiring change85% believed that a change to the way political campaigns are funded is necessary, with 46% also saying that a complete rebuild is necessary.[108] Such results are common across several research agencies and are hardly limited to specific individualsrather, this perspective is shared by almost all Americans who participated in the polls.[109] Of course, such perspectives also assume or implicitly imply another factor: money has an effect on political access.

Even though the Court dismissed discussing the aforementioned widespread opinion, further probing the source of that opinion indicates that a majority of Americans believe that an inequality of access to politicians, administrative officials, and public servants contributes to its perception as a legitimate issue. Access is stratified, in the opinion of many Americans, as 66% claim that the wealthy have more access, compared to 31% who believe equal access to politicians exists.[110] This belief that the wealthy have more access exists beyond an abstract notion of access and contributions: 85% of Americans believe that “candidates who win public office promote policies that directly help the people and groups who donated money to their campaigns.”[111]

These beliefs are bipartisan as well, given that “[l]arge majorities of Americans believe that members of Congress will favor the interests of those who donate to Super PACs over those who do not—and that Super PAC donors can pressure elected officials to alter their votes.”[112] When moneyed interests and the interests of an electorate diverge, “[m]ore than three-quarters of all respondents—77%—agreed that members of Congress are more likely to act in the interest of a group that spent millions to elect them than to act in the public interest.”[113] Bipartisan support exists for that claim too79% of Democrats compared to 81% of Republicans polled believed in that divergence.[114]

Americansregardless of political affiliationbelieve that their government is corrupt, more corrupt than other countries, and that this corruption is on the rise. They also believe that bought-for access constitutes a basis, or at least is partially responsible, for that perception. Therefore, at least from the public’s perspective, a general corruption pervades government, subverting a major theory that the Court used in arriving at its decision. These studies showing that American society is plagued by systemic and pervasive social inequalities, coupled with the public opinion indicating that the Court erred, problematize the Court’s perception of what constitutes politics as usual.

Yet in the face of overwhelming and inundating public opinion decrying the status quo of the contemporary American political system, the Court held that a maligned access is a required factor for any democracy and vindicated McDonnell’s actions on that theory. But as is shown, that is rarely the casestratified access exists according to a majority of Americans, and Americans believe that contributions or donations result in access. Although the Court implicitly supported a theory of equality of parity of access, it did not arrive there alone. Rather, it was aided by the flood of amicimost of whom were in fact, politicians, administrative officials, or public servantswho all supported McDonnell’s position and shared his fears.[115]

C.  How the Amici Blinded the Court to Public Opinion

The Court erred because instead of acknowledging the aforementioned public opinion and inequality, it deferred to the opinion of the amici writing on behalf of the Governor, as is evident by its almost rote repetition of the fears espoused by those amici as well as the fears espoused by the former Governor. Numerous amici wrote to the Court, mostly supporting the petitioner, McDonnell.[116] These amici all decried the supposedly deleterious effects of the court of appeals’ ruling, supporting McDonnell’s claims.[117] This Section focuses on the role some of those amici played, with an understanding that a caveat may exist in discussing their importance because they wrote or filed against the United States.

The Republican Governors Public Policy Committee’s (the “Committee”) amicus brief reinforced the centrality of access in any functioning democracy. First, the Committee noted that “facilitating ‘access’ is a central part of any modern elected official’s job” and then cited to instances by former Governor of Florida Jeb Bush, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, and former President of the United States Barack Obama that could be seen as corrupt or engaging money for influence under the court of appeals’ definition of an “official act” that the United States sought to affirm, mirroring the fear that the Court later expressed in their opinion—that the lower court decisions would punish normal acts of governance.[118] The Committee also believed that the decision would embolden prosecutors, much like the Court feared as well. Elucidating that argument, the Committee pivoted and reinforced the harmful ramifications on democracy of affirming the conviction, noting that “if other courts adopted this understanding of official act, potentially every elected official in the nation would be in danger of indictment by an overzealous federal prosecutor. To be sure, the prosecutor would be required to show the existence of a quid pro quo to obtain a conviction.”[119] As no public official or public servant would know if his or her conduct was lawful, he or she would fear acting at all, and ultimately, according to the Committee, democracy would suffer.

In addition, a group of Former Virginia Attorneys General strongly supported the Court’s first fear, namely, that the decision could harm governance and possibly weaken democracy. Citing to their vast experience, “including providing legal advice,”[120] these Former Virginia Attorneys General notedin line with both the Court’s eventual opinion and McDonnell“[t]he overly-expansive interpretation of official action in the decision below will disrupt the public life of Virginia and the other states within the Fourth Circuit, and it would create a different rule for participatory democracy in the Fourth Circuit than the one that applies in other circuits.[121] According to these amici, upholding the lower courts’ perspective on what constituted an “official act” would strike such a strong blow to public life as to disrupt it. Not only did these amici reinforce the argument of the possibly deleterious effects of the lower court’s decision, but also, much like the Court itself did, they discussed the necessity of access in a democracy.

Other politicians supported the aforementioned theory of access and the Court’s fears. Sixty Former State Attorneys General from states other than Virginia also supported McDonnell, and argued (in an exercise of hyperbole meriting mention) the deleterious effect of defining an “official act” as the court of appeals did.[122] Those former Attorneys General even noted that “it could chill the delivery of those services altogether,” and that even other individuals connected to governors and public officials would refrain from discussing political or policy issues out of fear of prosecution.[123] In this instance, the former State Attorneys General supported the Court’s first fear, but instead focused on the possibility that constituents would hesitate becoming politically involved.

In summary, amici, writing on behalf of McDonnell, flooded the Court with briefs, all indicating similar issuesthe overall deleterious effects of the court of appeals’ ruling. These amici hardly hid their stake or interest in the litigation, as well, directly indicating that they feared prosecution, again implicitly referencing that such conduct is politics as usual.[124] Referring back to the Court’s opinion, it becomes clear that the Court had these individuals in mindrather than the plethora of public opinionin arriving at its decision. Given that the Court then discussed those effects in its decision,[125] despite having already used statutory interpretation to arrive at its decision, an examination of the role the amici played in the Court’s decision is of value.

D.  How the Court’s Actions Relate to the Usefulness (or Lack Thereof) of Amicus Briefs

The Court’s use of amici provides insight into the possibly pernicious role that amicus briefs can play when they fail to represent public opinion or do not adequately represent both sides in any given case before the Supreme Court. Such a result indicates a general problem of elevating concentrated interests at the expense of diffuse ones and having an inability to protect minority groups or those without strong political voices.

Perhaps the possibility of amici providing a biased understanding of the issue in any case before the Court is unsurprising, given the rise in the role of amici over the past century in Supreme Court jurisprudence.[126] Not only have amici submitted more briefs, but also “[t]here is no question . . . that the frequency of such references [to amici] has been increasing over time.”[127] In many instances, the Court utilizes amici as a means of gaining insight into a specific matter before it, either providing alternative views on issues, “important technical or background information,” or at times, simply reinforcing the perspectives of the already existing parties.[128] Undoubtedly, therefore, amicus briefs are “an institutional part of U.S. court systems.”[129] However, they can also have a destructive effect of either misrepresenting or failing to represent parties in a Supreme Court decision.[130] For example, these briefs sometimes provide no value to the Court, instead reiterating what has already been argued and, therefore, providing no new information.[131] Regardless, these briefs have become so common“[i]ndeed. . . . so common that some judges are looking for ways to limit them”that a brief review of their limitations is of use.[132]

The Court can fall victim to a flood of one-sided amicus briefs, either due to the lack of proponents on one side of an issue or because of an inability to convey the opinions of one side effectively. Justice Scalia referred to this possibility in his dissent in Jaffee v. Redmond, in which, despite the adversarial nature of the American court system and the possibility of having multiple amici file on behalf of both parties, “[n]ot a single amicus brief was filed in support of petitioner.”[133] That was no surprise, according to Scalia, because “[t]here is no self-interested organization out there devoted to pursuit of the truth in the federal courts.”[134] A similar situation is at play in McDonnell, as few vehicles exist for the representation of public opinion in the form of amicus briefs beyond the non-profit organizations and think tanks that participated as amici and then Justices being cognizant of general public opinion. Here, much like in Jaffee, individuals could not represent themselves in a fashion similar to public officials. Although no formal organization existed to represent public opinion, the Court nonetheless could have considered that information, either because the Justices are “social beings confronted with the plethora of stimuli emanating from American culture, media and politics,”[135] or out of concern “about their legitimacy in the short and long-terms.”[136]

Beyond the plausibility of few organizations existing to actively represent public opinion before the Court,[137] the Court was also inundated with more than a dozen amicus briefs on behalf of McDonnell from the time he filed his Petition for a Writ of Certiorari to when he argued before the Court.[138] Only five organizations filed in support of the respondents, and all were filed only after the petition had been granted.[139] Regardless of whether that stark difference is due to the role the United States played as the respondent, “[i]n order to maximize their own public reputations or the reputation of the Court, the Justices need information about public opinion.”[140] In many instances, public opinion is unavailable on an issue before the court.[141] However, as discussed in Section III.B, that was not the case in McDonnell. Rather, the “groups most affected by [the] decision . . . likely [had] very pronounced views about how these issues should be resolved as a policy matter”[142] that contradicted the Court’s holding.

Accordingly, in McDonnell, the amici failed to provide the Supreme Court with an adequate representation of public opinion, instead blinding the Court to what the public truly believed. Rather than referring to the interests of all parties and the public, as Justice Scalia suggested in Jaffee was the interest “that this Court will have . . . prominentlyindeed, primarilyin mind,[143] the Court abrogated that responsibility. Although amicus briefs can play “an important role in the democratic process, . . . not just as an element of interest group lobbying in today’s society . . . but rather as an integral part of participatory democracy,”[144] public opinion did not factor into the voices of the amici.[145] Therefore, Justices were unable to look to “amicus briefs as a barometer of opinion on both sides of the issue;[146] instead, they were only presented one side. As a result, the voice of the one-sided amici overpowered the general American public’s collective voice.

E.  In Deferring to Amici and Neglecting Inequalities and Public Opinion, the Court Failed to Reinforce Democracy

As a result of the stark contrast between public opinion and the opinions presented to the Court by the amici as well as the Court’s heavy reliance on the opinions of the amici, the Supreme Court falsely believed it was acting as a democracy-reinforcing institution and actually promoted something wholly corrosive to democracy. Beyond the fact that it deferred to the voice of amici over the voice of the public, the Court failed to act as a democracy-reinforcing institution because of the plausibility or likelihood that its decision will actually hurt democracy and the public.

The concept of the Court acting as a democracy-reinforcing institution is best described by John Ely’s Democracy and Distrust.[147] Ely, in a particularly trite comment, referenced the role of the Supreme Court in contemporary society, noting, “[t]he Constitution may follow the flag, but is it really supposed to keep up with the New York Review of Books?”[148] This view is particularly valuable for understanding the role of the Court: specifically, as an adaptive branch of government that can respond to contemporary ideals, opinions, or sentiments, while still keeping with the general theme of the Constitution.[149] Here, academic opinion agrees that Ely proposes “a notion of representation which . . . forms the general theory of our entire constitution” and that the Supreme Court, in construing the more open-ended provisions of the constitution, should solely concern itself with preserving the ideal of representation . . . .”[150] In this sense, Ely’s theories uphold or describe a basic tenet that the Court should reinforce democracy by protecting minority populations while still upholding the importance of majority government.[151] The primary role of the Supreme Court, then, has been to protect “geographical outsiders,” the “literally voteless,” and the “functionally powerless.”[152] Here, the Court neglected that duty.

The Court failed to intervene in support of public opinion or represent the public’s interests, instead kowtowing to the voices of the elite few who submitted briefs as friends of the Court. The Court did not act in support of a neglected population, even though it should have intervened because the “market [was] malfunctioning.”[153] The market malfunctioned not solely because of an unideal outcome, but rather, because “the in’s [were] choking off the channels of political change to ensure they will stay in and the out’s will stay out . . . .[154] Here, individuals, already ingratiated with public servants as a result of their wealth, gained better and considerably more access. Further, the Court yielded to the voice of the few (the amici, who predominantly were past public servants either from Virginia or elsewhere) instead of the general public. As a result of yielding to a distinct and already empowered voice, a limited interestand not the public interestguided the Court’s decisionmaking.

Finally, the Court failed to act as a democracy-reinforcing institution because of the harmful effects of the Court’s decision on the general public. Although the Court’s actions may be largely invisible to most people, its “rulings have enormous impact on people in the most important, and sometimes the most intimate, aspect of their lives.”[155] The scourge of public corruption affects the very functioning of any democracy, including adversely affecting investment projects, causing a diminution of economic activity, encouraging inefficiency, contributing to a misallocation of human resources, creating uncertainty, and generally adversely affecting the poor more so than the rich.[156] Because public corruption has such a broad and injurious effect on democracies, the public stands to suffer from the Court’s decision.[157] Therefore, by supporting those firmly entrenched in government and those already benefitted, the Court acted “at the expense of individuals whom the Constitution is designed to protect.”[158]

The Court abrogated its role as a democracy-reinforcing institution not only because it acted against public opinion, but also, because as a result of its decision, the public stands to suffer. As a result of the Court supporting a specific (and already powerful) subset of the population and not the majority, as well as the plausibility of those actions actually harming both democracy and the general public, the Court failed in its role as a democracy-reinforcing institution.

IV.  Possible Solutions

This Note has explored a number of divergent areas where the Court erred in its McDonnell decision, including, but not limited to, its neglect of pervasive public opinion regarding government corruption and the reality of systemic inequalities (political and otherwise) in the United States, its overreliance on biased amici, and finally, an analysis of the bribery statute that, at base, is ill-equipped to handle contemporary prosecutions of public corruption. This Part assesses possible solutions for each one of those areas and is divided into three broader categories: (1) the Court’s failure to reinforce democracy resulting from its failure to recognize those inequalities and public opinion; (2) the Court’s reliance on amici briefs; and (3) the statute of concern in McDonnell.

These solutions not only tackle the issues at hand in McDonnellspecifically, how the Court failed as an institutionbut also attempt to remedy general issues surrounding contemporary public corruption law. With regards to the changes to the Court’s operations, this Note advocates enhancing certain democratic features of the Supreme Court and ensuring that the voice of the public heard throughout its halls, albeit with a deference to the Court’s inception as a politically insulated branch of government.

Further, policy remedies are necessary, as the McDonnell decision has already impacted prosecution strategy and other corruption cases across the Countrythis is far from a settled issue. As mentioned earlier, the U.S. Attorney’s Office for S.D.N.Y. retried Sheldon Silver and Dean Skelos. Elsewhere in the hallowed Chambers of the Thurgood Marshall Courthouse, the trial of Joe Percocoa top aide to New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, another subject of ethics investigationswas affected by the changes resulting from McDonnell.[159] Seemingly, this decision has not affected this particular office significantly given successful retrials and convictions.[160] However, just across the Hudson River, the decision has had negative effects: the District of New Jersey U.S. Attorney’s Office, having faced a mistrial, now dismissed all charges against Senator Robert Menendez.[161] This is far from a Northeastern problem, either. Across the country, prosecutors at all levels of government tackle corruption, regardless of the level of government at which it occurs or the type of illicit acts engaged in.[162] As a direct result of the McDonnell decision, prosecutors have strategized and developed new theories of prosecution, but not all of them have been successful. Therefore, the policy changes proposed here are necessary to empower prosecutors across the Country to battle the scourge of public corruption and restore efficacious governance.

A.  Rectifying the Court’s Failure to Reinforce Democracy

As established above, the Supreme Court failed to reinforce democracy by ignoring widespread public opinion that sees extensive government corruption in addition to ignoring societal and political inequalities. The source of such failures could arise from a number of areas, like the Court’s role as an elite institution or its self-perception as such, or even from the rules governing amici briefs.

In writing that “[i]t is emphatically the province and duty of the judicial department to say what the law is,”[163] Justice John Marshall ensured that the Court would be the final arbiter of executive and legislative actions.[164] The Supreme Court, therefore, can act as an institution designed to ensure majority rule while still safeguarding the rights of minority groups. Some take this theory to an extreme, arguing that the Court best analyzes the law when assessing legal questions with close scrutiny of public opinion.[165] Judges undertake emphatically democratic tasks, creating new law through their interpretation of statutes or prior common law.[166] How exactly the Supreme Court should actor under what mechanismsin order to validate public opinion in its decisionmaking is still a valuable question worth exploring.

First, judges must consider that they operate within a system which requires that “[t]he rules applied to the decision of individual controversies cannot simply be isolated exercises of judicial wisdom.”[167] In turn, recognizing that one operates within a vast chain of precedent and within society as a whole requires transparency, as “[a] judiciary that discloses what it is doing and why it does it will breed understanding.”[168] The flipside of requiring transparency, of course, is a limitation of insulation from the public. The Court, operating within a transparent system, requires awareness not only of its role relative to the people it effectively governs, but also, of its role relative to other institutions within government.[169] Doing so breaks the Court’s role solely as an interlocutor between the Constitution and contemporary legal questions, but does not totally abrogate it; rather, the Court still exhibits fidelity to features within the Constitution, but does so cognizant of its role relative to other documents, institutions, and peoples.

Second, and almost as a corollary to the first rule, judges must also keep abreast of information regarding the society they effectively govern through their decisionmaking. As “one cannot bridge the gap between society and law without having reliable information about society,” judges should strive to understand public opinion.[170] In arriving at such an end, “the Court must determine the public mood, develop a mode of rhetoric that the public finds acceptable, and make decisions that the public at least tolerates.”[171] Finding “any easy method, any three-prong test, to determine which definitions of public opinion should be admitted into constitutional adjudication and how much weight those definitions should be given” is not of significant importance, but rather, public opinion “should enter the multi-factored, balancing equation” of judicial decisionmaking.[172]

Such an entente between the Court and public opinion would empower the public to see itself as a legitimate actor of change. David Cole, in Engines of Liberty, provides a clear explanation of how the public could avail itself of a democracy-reinforcing Supreme Court. Cole argues that “[m]ost of the work of constitutional law reform takes place outside the federal courts” because “[o]verlapping state, federal, and international legal systems offer multiple possibilities for doing the groundwork necessary for constitutional change, whether in city councils, state legislatures, state courts, Congress, the executive branch, or international forums.”[173] As Cole posits, the public sets democratic actions in the Supreme Court in motion. Constitutional law, therefore, is innately and intensely democratic, and the result of political processesinasmuch as constitutional principles matter, so do advocates.[174]

As a caveat, an acknowledgement of public opinion does not connote an abandonment of all precedent and other forms of interpretation.[175] Rather, “[c]onstitutional law is designed to stand above ordinary politics, and it is notand should not bedirectly responsive to political pressure in the way that legislation or executive action is.”[176] Although “[t]he justices’ role is not to represent constituents,” some obeisance towards public opinion is evident.[177] Therefore, although the Supreme Court, under this approach, makes wholly new law and must in some way be insulated from political movements and politics more generally, it can and should respond to failures of democratic institutions and democracy more generally.

The Court should return to its role as a democracy-reinforcing institution, doing so by recognizing the system in which it operates and by acknowledging public opinion. Such an acknowledgment does not require an abrogation of using other forms of analysis in its decisionmaking, but rather, requires that the Court at least exhibit an awareness to the public mood. By recognizing the importance of public opinion in its decisionmaking, or at least by exhibiting an awareness to it, the Court can reinforce democracy by, as Ely mentioned, inserting itself where the political market malfunctions and limits access to representation to some.

B.  Rectifying the Court’s Reliance on Amicus Briefs

As discussed in Sections III.C and III.D, amicus briefs form a vital part of Supreme Court decisionmaking: in short, and at their best, they provide the Court with new and innovative approaches to understanding legal issues and allow for parties interested in the litigation, but not necessarily part of it, to express opinions. As Justice Black opined, “[m]ost cases before this Court involve matters that affect far more people than the immediate record parties,”[178] and amicus briefs allow for that representation. However, as mentioned in Sections III.C and III.D, amicus briefs can often represent a distorted or impartial view of a specific issue, and as a result, some attention to how the Court handles or processes amicus briefs may be of value.

The Court has come to rely heavily on amicus briefs, as in the 20142015 term, Justices cited amicus briefs in 54% of all signed opinions.[179] Beyond a heavy reliance on amicus briefs in general, the Court also relies on a specific subset of elite lawyers to both argue before the Court and file amicus briefs.[180] Both the heavy reliance on amicus briefs and on specialized lawyers are unlikely to change, especially as the “new hunger for information outside the record” grows.[181] However, the Court can scrutinize the motivations behind amicus briefs and institute certain rules regarding their admissibility.

First, the Court could benefit from assessing the motivations of amici. For example, a recent article by Allison Orr Larsen and Neal Devins found that quite often, when amici file briefs it is not a result of a self-interest, but rather at the behest of the parties in the pending litigation.[182] Essentially, “[w]hen the Court grants certiorari (or cert), these very lawyers strategize about which voices the Court should hear and they pair these groups with other Supreme Court specialists to improve their chances with the Court.”[183] Often, as a result, what is presented before the Court is not a culmination of individual actors attempting to provide background, clarity, or innovative approaches to a complex legal question, but rather something “orchestrated and intentional” by the litigating parties.[184] Accordingly, assessing the motivations behind an amicus brief would allow the Court to contextualize the brief in its entirety, as, for example, in McDonnell, where politicians filing briefs on behalf of another politician may not provide a wholly unbiased view. Although a primary purpose behind amicus briefs is to provide a specific view on an issue, contextualizing those views may provide the Court better perspective on the legal question as a whole.

Second, the Court can institute requirements regarding what amicus briefs must provide in order to be admitted. As mentioned above, these briefs can provide a useful insight into complex legal questions, but oftentimes fall prey to simply rehashing the opinions set forth in the briefs by the respective parties. Although a non-exhaustive list of what possible remedies exist to solve this amicus problem, the Court could explore the following options. Judge Posner suggests the following possibilities and allows amicus briefs

only when (1) a party is not represented competently or not represented at all; (2) the amicus has an interest in some other case that may be affected by the decision in the case before the court; or (3) the amicus has unique information or a unique perspective that can provide assistance to the court beyond what the lawyers for the parties can provide.[185]

Although providing myriad reasons for such a limitation, Judge Posner also hesitates at allowing interest group politics to pervade the Supreme Court and distort the judicial decisionmaking process.[186]

 Amicus briefs benefit the Court greatly, but also have the possibility of manipulating the Court’s perspective on an issue and adversely affecting a party in the case. By scrutinizing this process, the Court will ensure that amicus briefs that reach it actually aid it in its decisionmaking, rather than producing an echo chamber as was the case in McDonnell, in which amici merely repeated other amici or the petitioner and provided no new insight on the legal question before the Court. These suggestions would also assuage the problem evident in McDonnell, namely that amici flooded the Court to support the petitioners and grossly outnumbered the amici on behalf of the respondents.

Further, these suggestions would prevent the aforementioned fears espoused by Justice Scalia, namely, that certain groups fundamentally interested in the outcome of a certain case, but unable to organize and present their opinions, would be absent from consideration in the decisionmaking process.

C.  Rectifying the Basis of the Court’s Failure: A Statute Ill-Equipped to Tackle Corruption

Congress should also pass legislation that would reinforce contemporary public opinion’s broad perception of what constitutes corruption, countering the Supreme Court’s actions in McDonnell. Since the Court narrowly construed what constituted an “official act” for the bribery statute, Congress should defer to public opinion and repudiate that narrow construction. Finally, in harkening back to what the framers perceived as corrupt behavior, Congress should look to New York state (and its corruption legislation) as a means of providing some guidance.

The main statute designed to target public corruption explicitly, the bribery statute18 U.S.C. § 201is limited by language, and therefore is prone to interpretation by the Court, as in McDonnell. The statute defines the quo of the quid pro quo relationship as “any decision or action on any question, matter, cause, suit, proceeding or controversy, which may at any time be pending, or which may by law be brought before any public official, in such official’s official capacity.”[187] Beyond the bribery statute, few other statutes or codes at the federal level are concerned exclusively with public corruption prosecutions. Enacted in 1946, Congress created the Hobbs Act with the intent of managing labor disputes.[188] However, the Department of Justice’s Justice Manual notes how “the extortion statute is frequently used in connection with cases involving public corruption.”[189] Beyond these statutes, the honest services fraud statute,[190] as well as the Travel Act,[191] have also been used as vehicles for prosecution. Finally, passed in 1970, with the Congressional intent of empowering prosecution of mob activity,[192] the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (“RICO”) now empowers prosecution of public corruption, assuming that a person be involved in an enterprise that operates through a pattern of racketeering activity.[193] All of the aforementioned statutes empower federal prosecutors to tackle public corruption;[194] however, none of these acts or statutes reference public corruption prosecution, as case law has illuminated that specific area of law.

Given that the federal statutes that cover public corruption rarely if ever directly refer to it, Congress should look to New York state for both clarifying the statute on what constitutes an “official act” and for determining if any new legislation could be passed that would better reflect the realities of political dealings and public opinion. In 2013, New York revisited its bribery statutes, with Governor Cuomo proposing the Public Trust Act which criminalized directly, without need for other statutes, the bribery of a public servant,[195] corrupting the government,[196] and the failure to report corruption.[197] The Public Trust Act, as ultimately enacted in 2014,[198] included the latter two proposed provisions as well as enhanced prosecutorial powers through changing the statute of limitations and evidentiary standards.[199] New York provides an opportune study, not only because of how pervasive public corruption is in the state,[200] but also because the New York statute accurately reflects public opinion on corruption and therefore is broadly worded.

Section 496 of New York’s Penal Law provides a model for public corruption legislation, providing statutes regarding what constitutes public corruption generally, and then also what constitutes corrupting the government.[201] Its bribery lawsenshrined in Section 200 of the Penal Lawalso provide some valuable guidance for possible federal laws, with Sections 200.10 through 200.12 specifically addressing quid pro quo relationships.[202] Specifically, the New York State Penal Law criminalizes bribery when any public servant receives any benefit “upon an agreement or understanding that his or her vote, opinion, judgment, action, decision or exercise of discretion as a public servant will thereby be influenced . . . .”[203] Such an open definition of what constitutes the quo in a quid pro quo (that it could be any “vote, opinion, judgment, action, decision or exercise of discretion”) better relates to the reality of contemporary American politics.

Such legislation would better reflect the realities of public corruption at the national stage, understanding how public opinion factors into how to tackle the issue while also recognizing the benefits in perceiving it as an abuse of the public’s trust. Over the past thirty years, “convictions of federal officials and employees . . . [comprised] about 56% of all convictions.”[204] The majority of these charges come under Title 18, as mentioned above, “with the most common specific charges being related to bribery, conspiracy, embezzlement, false statements, and theft.”[205] However, divided at the federal level, for the 9,101 indictments filed over the same period, the charges come from a diverse range of acts, spanning across at least four different titles of the U.S. Code.[206] Because of the wide variety of statutes used to target public corruption, the public could benefit from a singular statute harmonizing these factors and construing it as an abuse of the public trust.

Defining corruption similarly to the New York state statute would also approximate the public’s view of what constitutes corrupt behavior. Public opinion, as indicated above, regards the intent and context of the corrupt actors, rather than on whether the items exchanged actually constituted something bestowed on a politician by the virtue of the politician’s public office. Essentially, if a public servant used “his public office primarily to serve his own ends,” the servant engaged in corrupt behavior, and more importantly, “[t]his understanding of corruption focuses the discussion on the intent and context of the potentially corrupt actor (or actors).”[207] Under this approach, it was not so much the form or specific acts carried out by the politician or public servant, but rather, the simple fact that by doing so, the politician served his or her own ends and not his or her constituents.

If Congress is unable to pass new legislation concerning public corruption, it at least should support a clarification of the statute. Currently, two members of CongressTom Suozzi (D-N.Y.) and Brian Fitzpatrick (R-Pa.)have proposed bipartisan legislation to clarify the statutory defect that resulted from the Court’s decision. Suozzi, saying that “[w]e can’t allow corruption convictions to be overturned based on legal technicalities,” unveiled the Close Official Acts Loophole Act, which would borrow language from the federal conflicts of interest statutes and apply that language to what constitutes an “official act.”[208] Explaining the rationale behind the bill, Fitzpatrick, a former Supervisory Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation (“FBI”) and the national supervisor for its Public Corruption Unit, noted, “[c]orruption can and does take many different forms, and we must provide investigators and prosecutors with all the tools they need to combat [its] erosive effects . . . .”[209] The bill would elaborate what constituted the “quo” of a quid pro quo relationship, indicating that acting on “any question, matter, cause, suit, proceeding or controversy, which may at any time be pending, or which may by law be brought before any public official, in such official’s official capacity, or in such official’s place of trust or profit” in return for some pecuniary benefit would constitute bribery.[210]

Of note, passing such amendments as opposed to passing new legislation mirroring New York’s would also allay the Court’s concerns of overeager prosecutions and criminalizing all forms of governance. This list, proposed by Suozzi and Fitzpatrick, mirrors the one in New York, in some capacity, expanding what constitutes an “official act” to matters related to the discretion of the public servant.[211] However, it still draws on language from already existing statutes, which the Court passively approved in its opinion. Further, the petitioner differentiated the bribery statute from the already existing statutes on the basis of these semantic differences, but did not denigrate those specific statutes.[212]

Such legislation is necessary because it better covers the nefarious aspects of access explored by this Note. By expanding what constitutes an “official act” and bringing it line with aforementioned public opinion and certain realities of access, Congress can ensure that the public’s perspective on what constitutes corruption is enshrined in law. Further, by enshrining that definition in law, Congress will rectify the situationof a limited definition of what constitutes corruptioncreated by the Supreme Court in McDonnell.

Conclusion

A number of possible caveats exist to the arguments made in this Note. I did not explore whether the Court’s decision would ultimately benefit the publicperhaps the decision and its logical results would allow for public servants to more freely interact with their constituents with no fear of prosecutionor harm it. Beyond that, I also assumed that the presence of multiple amici on behalf of the petitioner caused an uneven playing field against the respondent, the United States, which may also not be the case. The instant case is also factually contingent on amici not representing public opinionmany instances may exist where amici do represent public opinion (and do so very well), thus questioning another argument made here. Despite these caveats, the Court’s decision has already had real effects on democracy.

As mentioned earlier, the Court’s decision, affected a number of other decisions in a small amount of time. The deleterious effect mentioned, however, by the Court, amici, and McDonnell, might be misplaced. In the wake of the decision, various courts of appeal have overturned convictions, reversing and remanding them for reconsideration in line with McDonnell. Yet the U.S. Attorney’s Office for S.D.N.Y.a powerhouse of public corruption prosecutionsand other U.S. Attorney’s Offices across the country announced they would retry them, succeeding in winning convictions.[213] In fact, at the time of reversal, the Second Circuit Court of Appeals even noted that the evidence submitted in two prominent S.D.N.Y. casesthose of Dean Skelos and Sheldon Silverwas sufficient to convict.[214] The Court’s fear of giving prosecutors a carte blanche may have been misplaced, as prosecutors continue their zealous attempt to rid statehouses, bureaucracies, and Congress of corruption.

Additionally, the writing of this Note occurred as the Special Counsel Investigation into Russia’s influence on the 2016 presidential election was underway.[215] Various public officials, non-profit organizations, and politicians raised numerous allegations regarding President Trump’s and his aides’ relationships with Russian officials and representatives. In these allegations, these public officials, non-profit organizations, and politicians accuse the President and his aides of some type of corruption.[216] In such a context, the importance of McDonnell’s outcome increases, especially as corruption became a politicized issue in the 2016 election.[217] With a limited scope on what constitutes corruption, it is possible that some acts could go unnoticed and unprosecuted.

However, even if “[a] means can be justified only by its end”[218] and the ultimate effect of the holding is limited, the Court’s process of arriving at its decision is also worrisome. That the Court deferred to amici, in spite of overwhelming public opinion opposing the views of those amici, ultimately calls into question the role of amici, or at least how the Court interacts with them and the public. A majority of those Americans surveyed, cutting across tense political lines, viewed, and still view, the Court’s reasoning as problematic, suggesting that the Court’s motivations should not go unquestioned.

A further question at play in the litigation, and one this Note touches tangentially, is how to manage the Supreme Court when it fails to police itself. Despite its design as an institution insulated from politicking, as described above, the Court must eschew devolving into an elitist institution completely unaware or ignorant to realities of contemporary social ills. Of course, the Court is not wholly insulated to public opinion. Jurisprudence on a number of legal issuesincluding privacy rights related to gay marriage, the right to contraception, school integration, and other issuesindicate the Court’s willingness to contemplate social developments and public opinion in its decisionmaking.[219] Further, the Supreme Court is often most powerful when it follows public opinion because “justices often delay or minimize their interventions” when “[s]ensitive to the possibility of backlashes. . . .[220] Given that public opinion ra              n counter to the Court’s holding, the question of what possible backlash exists emerges and further problematizes the Court’s holding.

Accordingly, from an open snub to public sentiment to an unabashed, almost sycophantic, restatement of the many amici (representing public servants, politicians, or former versions of the two) who filed on behalf of McDonnell, the Court narrowed the definition of what constituted an “official act.” By doing so, it also limited what constituted quid pro quo behavior and propagated a theory of access wholly corrosive to democracy. Finally, if doing so were not enough, the Court’s reasoning in McDonnell shows no deference to understanding (let alone assuaging) the systemic political, economic, and social inequalities in the United States, or to public opinion supporting change regarding the Court’s view on access. As a result, in its decision in McDonnell, the Court repudiated its role as a democracy-reinforcing institution.

 


[*] *..              Executive Postscript Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 92; J.D. Candidate, 2019, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. 2016, Columbia University. My deepest gratitude goes to Professor Sam Erman for his guidance, to Professor Judith Russell, and Alexis Grenell. Lastly, thank you to my family, my friends, and the fine editors and staff of the Southern California Law Review for their excellent work.

 [1]. Baron De Montesquieu, 1 The Spirit Of The Laws 12–13 (Thomas Nugent trans., Hafner               Press 1975) (1748).

 [2]. McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355, 2361 (2016).

 [3]. Id. at 2375.

 [4].               Id.

 [5].               United States v. Skelos, 707 F. App’x 733, 735 (2d Cir. 2017) (discussing how sufficient evidence existed to convict Skelos, but that the Second Circuit had to vacate and remand the case because of the erroneous jury instructions).

Upon independent review of the record, and for the reasons principally set forth in the district court’s orders and judgments, we conclude that all of defendants’ remaining challenges to their convictions are without merit. Nevertheless, because we identify charging error on the ‘official act’ elements of the crimes and conviction, which we cannot conclude is harmless beyond a reasonable doubt, we VACATE the district court’s May 16, 2016 judgments and REMAND the case for further proceedings consistent with this order.

Id.

 [6].               United States v. Silver, 864 F.3d 102, 106 (2d Cir. 2017) (similarly discussing how sufficient evidence existed and erroneous jury instructions created by the McDonnell decision forced the court of appeals to vacate and remand).

Though we reject Silver’s sufficiency challenges, we hold that the District Court’s instructions on honest services fraud and extortion do not comport with McDonnell and are therefore in error. We further hold that this error was not harmless because it is not clear beyond a reasonable doubt that a rational jury would have reached the same conclusion if properly instructed, as is required by law for a verdict to stand.

Id.

 [7]. Id.

 [8]. Vivian Wang, Guilty, Again: Dean Skelos, Former Senate Leader, Is Convicted of Corruption in Retrial, N.Y. Times (July 17, 2018), https://nyti.ms/2JALyJw; Benjamin Weiser, Sheldon Silver Is Convicted in 2nd Corruption Trial, N.Y. Times (May 11, 2018), https://nyti.ms/2Ic83Zm.

 [9]. Matt Ford, Has the Supreme Court Legalized Public Corruption?, Atlantic (Oct. 19, 2017), https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/10/menendez-mcdonnell-supreme-court/543354 (discussing how the decision in McDonnell v. United States hung over the prosecutor’s case).

 [10]. Nick Corasaniti & Nate Schweber, Corruption Case Against Senator Menendez Ends in Mistrial, N.Y. Times (Nov. 16, 2017), https://nyti.ms/2hEl6a6.

 [11]. Alan Feuer, Why Are Corruption Cases Crumbling? Some Blame the Supreme Court, N.Y. Times (Nov. 17, 2017), https://nyti.ms/2hJtkhl.

 [12]. Niall McCarthy, Corruption of Government Officials Ranked Americans’ Top Fear of 2017, Forbes (Oct. 19, 2017, 8:05 AM), https://www.forbes.com/sites/niallmccarthy/2017/10/19/corruption-of-government-officials-ranked-americans-top-fear-of-2017-infographic.

 [13]. Matt Zapotosky et al., Prosecutors Will Drop Cases Against Former Va. Governor Robert McDonnell, Wife, Wash. Post (Sept. 8, 2016), http://wapo.st/2cakuAZ.

 [14]. Press Release, U.S. Att’y’s Office for the E.D. Va., Former Virginia Governor and Former First Lady Indicted on Public Corruption and Related Charges (Jan. 21, 2014) [hereinafter Press Release, Former Virginia Governor and Former First Lady Indicted], https://www.justice.gov/usao-edva/pr/former
-virginia-governor-and-former-first-lady-indicted-public-corruption-and-related.

 [15]. Id.

 [16]. Id.

 [17]. See Indictment at 4–5, United States v. McDonnell, No. 3:14-CR-12 (E.D. Va. Jan. 21, 2014), ECF No. 1.

 [18]. Id. at 6.

 [19]. Id.

 [20]. Id. at 6–7.

 [21]. Press Release, Former Virginia Governor and Former First Lady Indicted, supra note 14.

 [22]. Indictment, supra note 17, at 8.

 [23]. Id. at 26.

 [24]. Id. at 9.

 [25]. Id. at 11.

 [26]. See Indictment, supra note 17, at 7–32, for a full account of the enrichment, returns, and quid pro quo relationship between Star Scientific and Governor Bob McDonnell.

 [27]. Id.

 [28]. Id.

 [29]. United States v. McDonnell, 792 F.3d 478, 488 (4th Cir. 2015).

Two days after this private dinner—on May 1, 2011—Mrs. McDonnell received an email via Williams. The email included a link to an article entitled “Star Scientific Has Home Run Potential,” which discussed Star’s research and stock. Mrs. McDonnell forwarded this email to Appellant at 12:17 p.m. Less than an hour later, Appellant texted his sister, asking for information about loans and bank options for their Mobo properties. Later that evening, Appellant emailed his daughter Cailin, asking her to send him information about the payments he still owed for her wedding.

The next day, May 2, Mrs. McDonnell and Williams met at the Governor’s Mansion to discuss Anatabloc. However, Mrs. McDonnell began explaining her family’s financial woes—thoughts about filing for bankruptcy, high-interest loans, the decline in the real estate market, and credit card debt. . . .

Three days later, on May 5 at 11 a.m., Appellant met with Secretary Hazel and Chief of Staff Martin Kent to discuss the strategic plan for the state’s health and human resources office. Shortly after the meeting, Appellant directed his assistant to forward to Hazel the article about Star that Mrs. McDonnell had earlier brought to Appellant’s attention.

Id. (footnotes omitted).

 [30]. Rosalind S. Helderman & Matt Zapotosky, Ex-Va. Governor Robert McDonnell Guilty of 11 Counts of Corruption, Wash. Post (Sept. 4, 2014), http://wapo.st/1vSbW8x (“Three jurors who spoke about the verdict said the decision was an emotional one, particularly considering Robert McDonnell’s long career of public service. But they said they believed that the facts and the law were clear and that the verdict had not, in the end, been a difficult one to reach.”); see also Press Release, U.S. Att’y’s Office for the E.D. Va., Former Virginia Governor and Former First Lady Convicted on Public Corruption Charges (Sept. 4, 2014) [hereinafter Press Release, Former Virginia Governor and Former First Lady Convicted], https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/former-virginia-governor-and-former-first-lady-convicted-public-corruption-charges.

 [31]. Frank Green et al., Bob and Maureen McDonnell Convicted in Historic Corruption Trial, Richmond Times-Dispatch (Sept. 4, 2014), http://www.richmond.com/news/state-regional/virginia-politics/bob-mcdonnell-convicted-on-of-counts-maureen-mcdonnell-on-of/article_7b9b6118-343c-11e4-bef2-001a4bcf6878.html; see also Press Release, Former Virginia Governor and Former First Lady Convicted, supra note 30.

 [32]. Green et al., supra note 31.

 [33]. McDonnell, 792 F.3d at 486.

 [34]. Id. at 505–06.

 [35]. Id.

 [36]. Id. at 505.

 [37]. Id. at 506.

 [38]. See id.

 [39].                             Id. at 520;               Travis Fain, McDonnell Appeals Again, Stays Free for Now, Daily Press (July 24, 2015, 9:40 AM), http://www.dailypress.com/news/politics/dp-mcdonnell-appeals-again-stays-free-for-now-20150724-story.html.

 [40]. 18 U.S.C. § 201(b)(2) (2018) (bribery of public officials); id. § 201(a)(3) (“official act” definition).

 [41]. McDonnell, 792 F.3d at 504 (noting that “in their proposed instructions for honest-services wire fraud, both parties sought to import the definition of bribery set forth in 18 U.S.C. § 201(b)(2) . . . the parties [also] agreed that a charge of extortion under color of official right has four elements” one of which requires the defendant to have “‘obtained a thing of value’ . . . ‘knowing that the thing of value was given in return for official action.’”). The court of appeals affirmed the district court’s use of § 201(b)(2)’s definition of bribery in its instructions to the jury regarding the honest services wire fraud statute. The court also affirmed the lower court’s jury instructions for the charge of extortion under color of official right. Id. at 504.

 [42]. Id. (citing 18 U.S.C. § 201(a)(3)) (internal quotations omitted).

 [43]. Id. at 513 (“Even if this were so, it is not a statement of law. Rather, it seems to us a thinly veiled attempt to argue the defense’s case. . . . Taken as a whole, Appellant’s proposed instruction on the meaning of ‘official act’ failed to present the district court with a correct statement of law.”) (discussing the defendant, Governor Bob McDonnell’s jury instructions which proposed that no settled practices or routine behavior could constitute official acts for the purpose of the statutes under which he was indicted).

 [44]. Id. at 510–11 (“We further observe that an ‘official act’ may pertain to matters outside of the bribe recipient’s control. . . . [M]ere steps in furtherance of a final action or decision may constitute an ‘official act.’ . . . [There is] no difficulty recognizing that proof of a bribe payor’s subjective belief in the recipient’s power or influence over a matter will support a conviction for extortion under color of official right.”).

 [45]. Petition for Writ of Certiorari at i, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474) (discussing the primary issue of concern of the appeal).

Under the federal bribery statute, Hobbs Act, and honest-services fraud statute, 18 U.S.C. §§ 201, 1346, 1951, it is a felony to agree to take “official action” in exchange for money, campaign contributions, or any other thing of value. The question presented is whether “official action” is limited to exercising actual governmental power, threatening to exercise such power, or pressuring others to exercise such power, and whether the jury must be so instructed; or, if not so limited, whether the Hobbs Act and honest-services fraud statute are unconstitutional.

Id.

 [46]. Id. at i, 27–30.

 [47]. Id. at 14 (citing McCutcheon v. FEC, 134 S. Ct. 1434, 1441 (2014)).

 [48]. Id. (citing McCutcheon, 134 S. Ct. at 1450–51).

 [49]. Brief for Respondent at 12, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474).

 [50]. Id. at 13–14 (“It has thus been settled for more than a century that the federal bribery statute ‘cover[s] any situation in which the advice or recommendation of a Government employee would be influential,’ even if the employee does not ‘make a binding decision.’ (citations omitted)).

 [51]. The list for the Petitioner included the National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers, the Republican Governors Public Policy Committee, a group of “Former Federal Officials,” the American Center for Law and Justice, a group of “Public Policy Advocates and Business Leaders,” a group of “Law Professors,” a group of “Former Attorneys General,” a group of sixty non-Virginian “Former State Attorneys General,” a group of “Virginia Law Professors,” members of the Virginia General Assembly, and Benjamin Todd Jealous, Delores L. McQuinn, and Algie T. Howell Jr. See McDonnell v. United States, SCOTUSblog, http://www.scotusblog.com/case-files/cases/mcdonnell-v-united-states (last visited Nov. 29, 2018) [hereinafter McDonnell v. United States, SCOTUSblog].

 [52]. Robert Barnes, Supreme Court Will Review Corruption Conviction of Former Va. Governor Robert McDonnell, Wash. Post (Jan. 15, 2016), http://wapo.st/1Zq6fsP?tid=ss_tw&utm_term=
.c9eeac23da58.

 [53]. The list for the Respondents included the Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington, the Brennan Center for Justice at N.Y.U. School of Law, Judicial Watch, Inc. and the Allied Educational Foundation, Public Citizen, Inc. and Democracy 21, and the Campaign Legal Center. See McDonnell v. United States, SCOTUSblog, supra note 51.

 [54]. McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355, 2375 (2016).

 [55]. Id. at 2371.

 [56]. Id. at 2372 (emphasis added).

 [57]. Id. at 2367 (“The issue in this case is the proper interpretation of the term ‘official act.’ Section 201(a)(3) defines an ‘official act’ as ‘any decision or action on any question, matter, cause, suit, proceeding or controversy, which may at any time be pending, or which may by law be brought before any public official, in such official’s official capacity, or in such official’s place of trust or profit.’”).

 [58]. Federal Corruption Statutes—Bribery—Definition of “Official Act”—McDonnell v. United States, 130 Harv. L. Rev. 467, 470 (2016) (discussing the role of statutory interpretation in the Court’s decisionmaking).

 [59]. McDonnell, 136 S. Ct. 2368 (“To choose between those competing definitions, we look to the context in which the words appear. Under the familiar interpretive canon noscitur a sociis, ‘a word is known by the company it keeps.’” (quoting Jarecki v. G.D. Searle & Co., 367 U.S. 303, 307 (1961))); see also id. at 2368–69 (containing a review of the Court’s analysis of various dictionaries).

 [60]. Id. at 2372–73.

 [61]. Ryan S. Killian, Comment, Dicta and the Rule of Law, 2013 Pepp. L. Rev. 1, 7–8 (2013) (“Classically, dicta is regarded as any portion of the opinion that is inessential to the outcome.” (footnote omitted)) (discussing how dicta plays a role in a Court opinion, being unnecessary towards the reasoning or logic behind the actual holding).

 [62]. Jerome N. Frank, Words and Music: Some Remarks on Statutory Interpretation, 47 Colum. L. Rev. 1259, 1259 (1947); see also Justice Felix Frankfurter, Sixth Annual Benjamin N. Cardozo Lecture Delivered Before the Bar Association of the City of New York: Some Reflections on the Reading of Statutes (Mar. 18, 1947), in 2 Rec. Ass’n B. City N.Y. 213, 216–17 (1947), reprinted in 47 Colum. L. Rev. 527, 530 (1947) (similarly concluding).

 [63]. McDonnell, 136 S. Ct. at 2372–73.

 [64]. Justice Frankfurter, supra note 62, at 214, reprinted in 47 Colum. L. Rev. at 528.

 [65]. In a sense, the fears espoused by the Court in this instance were not new. In United States v. Sun-Diamond Growers, 526 U.S. 398, 407 (1999), the Court discussed the relevant “absurdities” in creating a clear-cut rule regarding corruption or quid pro quo exchanges in that case, because doing so would criminalize “a complimentary lunch for the Secretary of Agriculture.” Mark Walsh, Supreme Court Narrows Definition of “Official Acts” in Public Corruption Laws, Educ. Week (Jun. 27, 2016, 12:08 PM), http://blogs.edweek.org/edweek/school_law/2016/06/supreme_court_narrows_definiti.html. See Zephyr Teachout, Corruption in America: From Benjamin Franklin’s Snuff Box to Citizens United (2014), for a discussion of prior court precedence on the issue of public corruption and for a discussion on the role that fears of criminalizing politics as usual play in Supreme Court decisions.

 [66]. McDonnell, 136 S. Ct. at 2372.

 [67]. Tara Malloy, Symposium: Is It Bribery or “The Basic Compact Underlying Representative Government”?, SCOTUSblog (June 28, 2016, 4:03 PM), http://www.scotusblog.com/2016/06
/symposium-is-it-bribery-or-the-basic-compact-underlying-representative-government (“As all Hamilton fans know, it pays to be in ‘The Room Where It Happens.’ Taken to its logical end, the Court’s approach permits officials literally to put ‘access’ up for sale . . . .”) (analogizing how the concept of access approved or validated by the Court goes beyond a general access).

 [68]. Id.

 [69]. McDonnell, 136 S. Ct. at 2372.

 [70]. Id.

 [71]. Id. at 2373 (citing Skilling v. United States, 561 U. S. 358, 402–03 (2010)).

 [72]. Id. (“[W]e decline to ‘construe the statute in a manner that leaves its outer boundaries ambiguous and involves the Federal Government in setting standards’ of ‘good government for local and state officials.’” (quoting McNally v. United States, 483 U.S. 350, 360 (1987))).

 [73]. Id. (citing Kolender v. Lawson, 461 U. S. 352, 358 (1983)).

 [74]. U.S. Dep’t of Justice, Justice Manual § 9-85.210 (2018), https://www.justice.gov/usam
/usam-9-85000-protection-government-integrity#9-85.210.

Consultation with the Public Integrity Section of the Criminal Division is required in all federal criminal matters that focus on violations of federal or state campaign financing laws, federal patronage crimes, and . . . . These include . . . prosecutive theories that focus on election fraud or campaign fund raising violations using 18 U.S.C. §§ 1341, 1343, and 1346; 18 U.S.C. § 1952; 18 U.S.C. §§ 1956 and 1957.

Id. See generally McDonnell, 136 S. Ct. at 2355.

 [75]. From the Court’s opinion, it is unclear whether the Justices were aware of this process. However, no mention of it is made in the opinion. See generally McDonnell, 136 S. Ct at 2355.

 [76]. Malloy, supra note 67; see also McDonnell, 136 S. Ct. at 2375.

 [77]. See generally McDonnell, 136 S. Ct. at 2361–64 (describing the various engagements and events organized); Malloy, supra note 67.

 [78]. See supra Part II.

 [79]. For a discussion on what constitutes a participatory democracy, as well as for a philosophical basis on the social contract, governance, democracy more broadly, and other theories underpinning American society, see Jean Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract & Discourses (G.D.H. Cole ed. & trans., E.P. Dutton & Co. 1913) (1782), http://lf-oll.s3.amazonaws.com/titles/638/0132_Bk.pdf.

 [80]. The reasons for such inequality are broadly discussed in this Note, but are not explored heavily.

 [81]. See Jeffrey R. Brown & Jiekun Huang, All the President’s Friends: Political Access and Firm Value, CATO Inst.: Res. Briefs in Econ. Pol’y, Aug. 2017, at 1–2, https://object.cato.org/sites/cato.org
/files/pubs/pdf/rb83.pdf (“First, political access may enable firms to secure contracts to provide goods or services to government. . . . Second, companies with direct access to politicians can seek regulatory relief and influence political decision-making. . . . Third, access to politicians may enable companies to gain an informational advantage about government policies and actions . . . .”) (discussing how access constitutes a competitive advantage and power for organizations).

 [82]. 20 Facts About U.S. Inequality that Everyone Should Know, Pathways Mag. (2011), http://inequality.stanford.edu/publications/20-facts-about-us-inequality-everyone-should-know (discussing wage inequality, CEO pay inequality, homelessness, education wage premium inequality, gender pay gaps, occupational sex segregation, racial gaps in education, racial discrimination, child poverty, residential segregation, health insurance, intragenerational income mobility, bad jobs inequality, discouraged workers, wealth inequality, intergenerational income mobility, deregulation of the labor market, job losses, immigration, and incarceration).

 [83]. Tara Siegel Bernard, A Citizen’s Guide to Buying Access, N.Y. Times (Nov. 18, 2014), https://nyti.ms/1vnwgyR (“The findings are far from shocking: Those emails that offered the prospect of a donor meeting were three times as likely to result in a meeting than those offering the prospect of a constituent meeting, [with] a far greater chance of securing meetings with more senior officials, including . . . members of Congress.”) (discussing a study that cold-called or wrote politicians with the experiment testing the different responses for active donors versus local constituents).

 [84]. See Bruce A. Ackerman, Beyond Carolene Products, 98 Harv. L. Rev. 713, 724 (1985) (discussing the role that minority status plays in access, whether it may be discrete minorities or diffuse ones).

 [85]. See, e.g., Zoltan L. Hajnal et al., Minorities and Direct Legislation: Evidence from California Ballot Proposition Elections, 64 J. Pol. 154, 174–75 (2002).

 [86]. Aaron Glantz & Emmanuel Martinez, For People of Color, Banks Are Shutting the Door to Homeownership, Reveal news (Feb. 15, 2018), https://www.revealnews.org/article/for-people-of-color
-banks-are-shutting-the-door-to-homeownership.

 [87]. Devah Pager & Hana Shepherd, The Sociology of Discrimination: Racial Discrimination in Employment, Housing, Credit, and Consumer Markets, 34 Ann. Rev. So. 181, 187 (2008).

 [88]. Ronald Weich & Carlos Angulo, Racial Disparities in the American Criminal Justice System, in Rights at Risk: Equality in an Age of Terrorism 186 (Dianne M. Piché et al. eds., 2002).

 [89]. Kim Rueben & Sheila Murray, Racial Disparities in Education Finance: Going Beyond Equal Revenues passim (Urban-Brookings Tax Policy Ctr., Paper No. 28, 2008), https://www.taxpolicycenter
.org/publications/racial-disparities-education-finance-going-beyond-equal-revenues/full.

 [90]. Daniel M. Butler & David E. Broockman, Do Politicians Racially Discriminate Against Constituents? A Field Experiment on State Legislators, 55 Am. J. Pol. Sci. 463, 472 (2011).

 [91]. Katherine Levine Einstein & David M. Glick, Does Race Affect Access to Government Services? An Experiment Exploring Street Level Bureaucrats and Access to Public Housing, 61 Am. J. Pol. Sci. 100, 100 (2017).

 [92]. Bernard, supra note 83.

 [93]. Christina Pazzanese, The Costs of Inequality: Increasingly, It’s the Rich and the Rest: Economic and Political Inequities Are Interlaced, Analysts Say, Leaving Many Americans Poor and Voiceless, Harv. Gazette (Feb. 8, 2016), https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2016/02/the-costs-of-inequality-increasingly-its-the-rich-and-the-rest.

 [94]. See Frederick Solt, Economic Inequality and Democratic Political Engagement, 52 Am. J. Pol. Sci. 48, 53–58 (2008).

 [95]. Id. at 57–58.

 [96]. Joseph Stiglitz, The Price of Inequality: How Today’s Divided Society Endangers Our Future 130 (2012).

 [97]. Id.

 [98]. Zoltan Hajnal et al., Voter Identification Laws and the Suppression of Minority Votes, 79 J. Pols. 363, 363 (2017).

 [99]. Christopher Uggen et al., Felony Voting Rights and the Disenfranchisement of African Americans, 5 Souls 48 (2003).

 [100]. Stiglitz, supra note 96, at 164.

 [101]. See Kimberlé Crenshaw, Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Color, 43 Stan. L. Rev. 1241, 1242 (1991) (“The embrace of identity politics, however, has been in tension with dominant conceptions of social justice. Race, gender, and other identity categories are most often treated . . . as vestiges of bias or domination—that is, as intrinsically negative frameworks in which social power works to exclude or marginalize those who are different.”).

 [102]. Barry Friedman, The Will of the People: How Public Opinion Has Influenced the Supreme Court and Shaped the Meaning of the Constitution 14–15 (2009) (arguing that the Supreme Court often follows public opinion on matters deemed especially contentious).

 [103]. Jim Clifton, Explaining Trump: Widespread Government Corruption, Gallup News (Jan. 6, 2016), http://news.gallup.com/opinion/chairman/188000/explaining-trump-widespread-government-corruption.aspx.

 [104]. 60 Minutes/Vanity Fair Poll: Corruption, CBS News: 60 Minutes (June 9, 2015), https://www.cbsnews.com/news/60-minutesvanity-fair-poll-corruption.

 [105]. 75% in U.S. See Widespread Government Corruption, Gallup News (Sept. 19, 2015), http://news.gallup.com/poll/185759/widespread-government-corruption.aspx.

 [106]. See supra Part II.

 [107]. Drew DeSilver & Patrick Van Kessel, As More Money Flows into Campaigns, Americans Worry About Its Influence, Pew Res. Ctr.: Fact Tank (Dec. 7, 2015), http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2015/12/07/as-more-money-flows-into-campaigns-americans-worry-about-its-influence.

 [108]. Americans’ Views on Money in Politics, N.Y. Times (June 2, 2015), https://nyti.ms/2kajjpi; Nicholas Confessore & Megan Thee-Brenan, Poll Shows Americans Favor an Overhaul of Campaign Financing, N.Y. Times (June 2, 2015), https://nyti.ms/1HIaEhH.

 [109]. Daniel Hensel, New Poll Shows Money in Politics Is a Top Voting Concern, Issue One (June 29, 2016), https://www.issueone.org/new-poll-shows-money-in-politics-is-a-top-voting-concern.

 [110]. Americans’ Views on Money in Politics, supra note 108.

 [111]. Id.

 [112]. National Survey: Super PACs, Corruption, and Democracy, Brennan Ctr. for Just.
(Apr. 24, 2012), https://www.brennancenter.org/analysis/national-survey-super-pacs-corruption-and-democracy.

 [113]. Id.

 [114]. Id.

 [115]. See supra note 51 (listing all the amici who filed in support of McDonnell).

 [116]. Compare supra note 51 (listing groups filing amicus briefs on behalf of petitioner), with supra note 53 (listing groups filing amicus briefs on behalf of respondent).

 [117]. Brief for Am. Ctr. for Law & Justice as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Former Federal Officials as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Former Va. Atty’s Gen. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Jealous et al. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for James Madison Ctr. for Free Speech as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Law Professors as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Members of Va. Gen. Assemb. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Nat’l Ass’n of Crim. Def. Lawyers as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Republican Governors Pub. Policy Comm. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Pub. Policy Advocates & Bus. Leaders as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for Seventy-Seven Former State Att’ys Gen. (Non-Va.) as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474); Brief for U.S. Justice Found. et al. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474).

 [118]. Brief for Republican Governors Pub. Policy Comm. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner at 12–14, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474).

 [119].               Brief for Republican Governors Pub. Policy Comm. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner in Support of Petition for a Writ of Certiorari at 8–9, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474).

 [120]. Brief for Former Va. Att’ys Gen. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner at 2, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474).

 [121]. Id. at 4, 12–15.

 [122]. Brief for Sixty Former State Att’ys Gen. (Non-Va.) as Amici Curiae for Petitioner at 17–18, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474) (“Dangling the threat of criminal liability over every lunch with a lobbyist and every meeting with an interest group would impede the proper functioning of state and local governments.”).

 [123]. Id. at 17–20.

 [124]. Brief for Members of Va. Gen. Assemb. as Amici Curiae for Petitioner at 2, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474) (referring to the interest of amici).

The conviction of Governor Robert McDonnell on a uniquely broad interpretation of the federal corruption statutes blurs the line between honest political interactions with constituents and public corruption. It now appears that accepting gifts from a constituent—even in the absence of the legislator’s promising or undertaking an official act—may lead to federal prosecution should the constituent request even the slightest assistance from the legislator.

Id.

 [125]. See supra Part II.

 [126]. See Joseph D. Kearney & Thomas W. Merrill, The Influence of Amicus Curiae Briefs on the Supreme Court, 148 U. Pa. L. Rev. 743, 744 (2000) (“In one respect, however, there has been a major transformation in Supreme Court practice: the extent to which non-parties participate in the Court’s decision-making process through the submission of amicus curiae, or friend-of-the-court, briefs. Throughout the first century of the Court’s existence, amicus briefs were rare.”); see also Andrew Jay Koshner, Solving the Puzzle of Interest Group Litigation 7–11 (1998) (exploring the increasing role of public interest participation before the Supreme Court).

 [127]. Kearney & Merrill, supra note 126, at 757.

 [128]. Id. at 745.

 [129]. Ruben J. Garcia, A Democratic Theory of Amicus Advocacy, 35 Fl. St. U. L. Rev. 315, 319 (2008).

 [130]. See Kearney & Merrill, supra note 126, at 746–47, 784–87.

 [131]. See Ryan v. Commodity Futures Trading Comm’n, 125 F.3d 1062, 1063 (7th Cir. 1997).

After 16 years of reading amicus curiae briefs the vast majority of which have not assisted the judges, I have decided that it would be good to scrutinize these motions in a more careful, indeed a fish-eyed, fashion. The vast majority of amicus curiae briefs are filed by allies of litigants and duplicate the arguments made in the litigants’ briefs, in effect merely extending the length of the litigant’s brief. Such amicus briefs should not be allowed.

Id. (Posner, J., in chambers).

 [132]. Garcia, supra note 129, at 316.

 [133]. Jaffee v. Redmond, 518 U.S. 1, 35–36 (1996) (Scalia, J., dissenting).

 [134]. Id. at 36.

 [135]. Roy B. Flemming & B. Dan Wood, The Public and the Supreme Court: Individual Justice Responsiveness to American Policy Moods, 41 Am. J. Pol. Sci. 468, 471 (1997).

 [136]. Lee Epstein & Andrew D. Martin, Does Public Opinion Influence the Supreme Court? Possibly Yes (But We’re Not Sure Why), 13 U. Pa. J. Const. L. 263, 281 (2010).

 [137]. Although perhaps, myriad amici briefs flooding the Court in support of granting a Petition for Writ of Certiorari and again in the Court’s decision would indicate a number of stakeholders in the pending decision, and thus illustrate the importance of the issue, as mentioned throughout this Section, that flood poses problems when an imbalance exists between those filing for the petitioner and the respondent. See Jaffee v. Redmond, 518 U.S. 1, 35–36 (1996) (Scalia, J., dissenting) for a discussion on the possible effects that imbalances in amicus briefs may have on Supreme Court jurisprudence and why such imbalances ultimately pose significant problems for strong adversarial litigation. Another issue of note, but one not explored here, is the effect of amicus briefs in Supreme Court jurisprudence when one party is the United States.

 [138]. See supra note 51 (listing groups filing amicus briefs on behalf of petitioner).

 [139]. See supra note 53 (listing groups filing amicus briefs on behalf of respondent).

 [140]. Kearney & Merrill, supra note 126, at 785.

 [141]. Id.

 [142]. Id.

 [143]. Jaffee v. Redmond, 518 U.S. 1, 36 (1996) (Scalia, J., dissenting).

 [144]. Garcia, supra note 129, at 320.

 [145]. See supra note 117 (listing all amicus briefs on behalf of petitioner).

 [146]. Kearney & Merrill, supra note 126, at 786.

 [147]. See generally John Hart Ely, Democracy and Distrust: A Theory of Judicial Review (1980) (arguing for the Supreme Court’s role as reinforcer of democracy).

 [148]. Id. at 58.

 [149]. See id. at 12.

 [150]. Richard W. Burgh, John Hart Ely, Democracy and Distrust: A Theory of Judicial Review, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980, Book Review 1 L. & Phil. 481, 482 (1982).

 [151]. Ely, supra note 147, at 12.

 [152]. John Hart Ely, Toward a Representation-Reinforcing Mode of Judicial Review, 37 Md. L. Rev. 451, 466 (1978).

 [153]. Id. at 486 (“A referee analogy is also not far off: the referee is to intervene only when one team is gaining unfair advantage, not because the ‘wrong’ team has scored.”) (describing another possible analogy to the political market theory, in which the Court must insert itself and rectify market inequalities or asymmetries in power to yield more beneficial outcomes, but can insert itself only when such inequalities exist).

 [154]. Id.

 [155]. Erwin Chemerinsky, The Supreme Court, Public Opinion, and the Role of the Academic Commentator, 40 S. Tx. L. Rev. 943, 955 (1999).

 [156]. Augusto Lopez-Carlos, Nine Reasons Why Corruption Is a Destroyer of Human Prosperity, World Bank (Mar. 31, 2014), http://blogs.worldbank.org/futuredevelopment/nine-reasons-why-corruption-destroyer-human-prosperity; see also Susan Rose-Ackerman, Corruption: Greed, Culture, and the State, 120 Yale L.J. Forum (2010), https://www.yalelawjournal.org/forum/corruption-greed-culture-and-the-state.

 [157]. What We Investigate: Public Corruption, Fed. Bureau of Investigation, https://www.fbi.gov/investigate/public-corruption (last visited Nov. 30, 2018).

Public corruption . . . poses a fundamental threat to our national security and way of life. It can affect everything from how well our borders are secured and our neighborhoods protected to how verdicts are handed down in courts to how public infrastructure such as roads and schools are built. It also takes a significant toll on the public’s pocketbooks by siphoning off tax dollars—it is estimated that public corruption costs the U.S. government and the public billions of dollars each year.

Id.

 [158]. Erwin Chemerinsky, The Case Against The Supreme Court 10 (2014).

 [159]. Jimmy Vielkind & Laura Nahmias, Cuomo’s Ambitions at Risk as Former Aide Goes to Trial, Politico (Jan. 22, 2018, 5:04 AM), https://www.politico.com/states/new-york/albany/story/2018/01/19
/cuomos-ambitions-at-risk-as-former-aide-goes-to-trial-199286.

 [160]. See infra notes 21314.

 [161]. Corasaniti & Schweber, supra note 10.

 [162]. E.g., Press Release, U.S. Att’y’s Office S.D. Tex., Former Webb County Commissioner Convicted (Oct. 18, 2018), https://www.justice.gov/usao-sdtx/pr/former-webb-county-commissioner-convicted; Michael R. Blood & Julie Watson, US Rep Duncan Hunter, Wife Indicted on Corruption Charges, Associated Press (Aug. 21, 2018), https://www.apnews.com
/9e63df7d58f549f5a034589a08036ee2.

 [163]. Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. 137, 178 (1803).

 [164]. See Robert J. Harris, Book Review, Robert McClosky. The American Supreme Court, 336 Annals Am. Acad. Pol. & Soc. Sci. 179, 179 (1961) (“In the first, from 1789 to 1860, the Court under the shrewd guidance of John Marshall, was primarily interested in devising a system of constitutional law which would establish judicial power . . . .”).

 [165]. See Barry Friedman, The Will of the People: How Public Opinion Has Influenced the Supreme Court and Shaped the Meaning of the Constitution 367–85 (2009).

 [166]. Aharon Barak, A Judge on Judging: The Role of a Supreme Court in a Democracy, 116 Harv. L. Rev. 19, 23 (2002) (“The meaning of the law before and after a judicial decision is not the same. Before the ruling, there were, in the hard cases, several possible solutions. After the ruling, the law is what the ruling says it is. The meaning of the law has changed. New law has been created.”).

 [167]. Lon L. Fuller, Anatomy of the Law 94 (Greenwood Press, Inc. 1976) (1968).

 [168]. Justice William O. Douglas, 8th Annual Benjamin N. Cardozo Lecture Delivered Before the Association of the City of New York: Stare Decisis (Apr. 12, 1949), in 4 Rec. Ass’n B. City N.Y. 152, 175–76 (1949), reprinted in 49 Colum. L. Rev. 735, 754 (1949).

 [169]. See id. at 172–76, reprinted in 49 Colum. L. Rev. at 752–55.

 [170]. Barak, supra note 166, at 33.

 [171]. James G. Wilson, The Role of Public Opinion in Constitutional Interpretation, 1993 BYU L. Rev. 1037, 1083.

 [172]. Id. at 1134.

 [173]. David Cole, Engines of Liberty 223–24 (2016).

 [174]. Id. (“The advocates featured here pursued their claims wherever they found a promising forum.”).

 [175]. See Wilson, supra note 171, at 1127–28.

 [176].               Cole, supra note 173, at 225.

 [177]. Id.

 [178]. Order Adopting Revised Rules of the Supreme Court of the United States, 346 U.S. 945, 947 (1954) (statement of Black, J.).

 [179]. Anthony J. Franze & R. Reeves Anderson, In Unusual Term, Big Year for Amicus Curiae at the Supreme Court, Law.com: Supreme Court Brief (Sept. 21, 2016), https://www.law.com
/supremecourtbrief/almID/1202767950930.

 [180]. Richard J. Lazarus, Advocacy Matters Before and Within the Supreme Court: Transforming the Court by Transforming the Bar, 96 Geo. L.J. 1487, 1487–88 (2015) (“During the past two decades, the Supreme Court has witnessed the emergence of an elite private sector group of attorneys who are dominating advocacy before the Court to an extent not witnessed since the early nineteenth century.”).

 [181]. Allison Orr Larsen & Neal Devins, The Amicus Machine, 102 Va. L. Rev. 1901, 1906 (2016).

 [182]. Id. at 1904–06.

 [183]. Id. at 1903–04.

 [184]. Id. at 1904.

 [185]. Eugene Volokh, Judicial Attitudes Towards Amicus Briefs, Volokh Conspiracy (July 23, 2009, 1:51 PM), http://volokh.com/2009/07/23/judicial-attitudes-towards-amicus-briefs.

 [186]. Voices for Choices v. Ill. Bell Tel. Co., 339 F.3d 542, 544 (7th Cir. 2003).

[J]udges have heavy caseloads and therefore need to minimize extraneous reading; amicus briefs, often solicited by parties, may be used to make an end run around court-imposed limitations on the length of parties’ briefs; the time and other resources required for the preparation and study of, and response to, amicus briefs drive up the cost of litigation; and the filing of an amicus brief is often an attempt to inject interest group politics into the federal appeals process.

Id. (emphasis added) (citing Nat’l Org. for Women, Inc. v. Scheidler, 223 F.3d 615, 616–17 (7th Cir. 2000)).

 [187]. See 18 U.S.C. § 201(a)(3) (2018) (defining “official act”).

 [188]. U.S. Dep’t of Justice, Justice Manual, Crim. Resource Manual § 2404 (2018), https://www.justice.gov/usam/criminal-resource-manual-2402-hobbs-act-generally (“[T]he Hobbs Act was enacted in 1946 to combat racketeering in labor-management disputes . . . .”).

 [189]. Id.

 [190]. 18 U.S.C. § 1346 (2018); U.S. Dep’t of Justice, Justice Manual § 9-43.100 (2018), https://www.justice.gov/usam/usam-9-43000-mail-fraud-and-wire-fraud.

 [191]. 18 U.S.C. § 1952 (2018).

 [192]. U.S. Dep’t of Justice, U.S. Dep’t of Justice, Justice Manual § 9-110.100 (2018), https://www.justice.gov/usam/usam-9-85000-protection-government-integrity.

 [193]. 18 U.S.C. § 1962(c) (2018); see also Ctr. for the Advancement of Pub. Integrity, Columbia Law Sch., A Guide to Commonly Used Federal Statutes in Public Corruption Cases: A Practitioner Toolkit 12–13 (2017) [hereinafter Commonly Used Federal Statutes in Public Corruption Cases], https://www.law.columbia.edu/sites/default/files/microsites/public-integrity/a_guide_to_commonly_used_federal_statutes_in_public_corruption_cases.pdf.

 [194]. U.S. Dep’t of Justice, Justice Manual § 9-85.000 (2018), https://www.justice.gov/usam
/usam-9-85000-protection-government-integrity. Although statutes exist that cover bribery of federal officials and interfering with the integrity of elections, few statutes have the explicit purpose of criminalizing quid pro quo activities, and most of this law has been clarified by case law. Commonly Used Federal Statutes in Public Corruption Cases, supra note 193.

 [195]. Press Release, Office of the Governor of N.Y., Governor Cuomo Proposes New Class of Public Corruption Crimes (Apr. 9, 2013), https://www.governor.ny.gov/news/governor-cuomo-proposes-new-class-public-corruption-crimes (“Under the new Public Servant Bribery provision, a prosecutor would only have to prove that the person paying the bribe intended to influence the public official or that the person receiving it intended to be so influenced . . . .”).

 [196]. Id. (“The proposed legislation would hold accountable anyone whether or not they are a public official who is found to have engaged in defrauding the government. . . . Under the new law, anybody, whether acting in concert with a public servant or not, who engages in a course of conduct to defraud a state or local government would be guilty of a crime . . . .”).

 [197]. Id. (“The proposed legislation would for the first time make it a misdemeanor for any public official or employee to fail to report bribery.”).

 [198]. Press Release, Office of the Governor of N.Y., Governor Cuomo and Legislative Leaders Announce Passage of 2014–15 Budget (Mar. 31, 2014), https://www.governor.ny.gov/news/governor-cuomo-and-legislative-leaders-announce-passage-2014-15-budget [hereinafter Press Release, 2014–2015 Budget] (“The Budget includes further reforms to ensure New Yorkers have confidence that their elected officials are serving them honestly and with transparency.”).

 [199]. N.Y. Crim. Proc. Law § 30.10 (McKinney 2016) (Statute of Limitations); N.Y. Penal Law § 200.00–.56 (McKinney 2016) (Bribery); id. §§ 496.01–07 (Corrupting the Government); see also Press Release, 2014–2015 Budget, supra note 198 (summarizing the enacted Public Trust Act provisions).

 [200]. Alan Greenblatt, Congratulations, New York, You’re #1 in Corruption, Politico (May 5, 2015), https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2015/05/how-new-york-became-most-corrupt-state-in-america-117652 (“Other states have plenty of corruption, but it’s hard to beat New York when it comes to sheer volume . . . . New York doesn’t so much have a culture of corruption as an entire festival.”).

 [201]. N.Y. Penal Law § 496.01–.07 (McKinney 2016).

 [202]. Id. § 200.10–.12.

 [203]. Id.

 [204]. Adriana S. Cordis & Jeffrey Milyo, Measuring Public Corruption in the United States: Evidence from Administrative Records of Federal Prosecutions, 18 Pub. Integrity 127, 137 (2016).

 [205]. Id.

 [206]. See id. at 138 (including in Title 18: § 201 Bribery of Public Officials and Witnesses, § 371 Conspiracy to Commit Offense or Defraud the United States, § 641 Public Money, Property or Records, § 666 Theft or Bribery in Programs Receiving Federal Funds, § 1001 Fraud and False Statements or Entries Generally, § 1028 Fraud and Related, ID Documents, § 1341 Mail Fraud, Frauds and Swindles, § 1709 Theft or Destruction of Mail by Officers or Employees, § 1951 Hobbs Act, and § 1962 RICO Prohibited Activities; in Title 21: § 841 & § 843 Manufacture and Distribution of Drugs, § 844 Simple Possession of Drugs, and § 846 Attempt and Conspiracy; in Title 26: § 7201 Tax Evasion and § 7206 Fraud and False Statements; and in Title 42: § 408 SSDI Penalties and § 1973 Denial or Abridgement of Right to Vote).

 [207]. Zephyr Teachout, The Anti-Corruption Principle, 94 Cornell L. Rev. 341, 374 (2009).

 [208]. Kenneth Lovett, L.I. Congressman Seeks to Close Corruption Loophole with New Bill After Dean Skelos Conviction Tossed, N.Y. Daily News (Sept. 27, 2017, 11:27 PM), http://www.nydailynews.com/news/politics/congressman-unveils-bill-prosecuting-corrupt-pols-easier-article-1.3525148.

 [209]. Press Release, Office of Congressman Thomas Suozzi, Suozzi Proposes Legislation to Close “Official Acts” Loophole that Resulted in Overturned Political Corruption Convictions (Sept. 27, 2017), https://suozzi.house.gov/media/press-releases/suozzi-proposes-legislation-close-official-acts-loophole-resulted-overturned.

 [210]. Close Official Acts Loophole Act of 2017, H.R. 3843, 115th Cong. (as introduced by H. Reps. Brian K. Fitzpatrick and Thomas R. Suozzi, Sept. 26, 2017).

 [211]. Id.

 [212]. Brief of Petitioner at 13–14, 35–36, McDonnell v. United States, 136 S. Ct. 2355 (2016) (No. 15-474). Notice that the petitioner accused respondents of importing a definition from another statute, but reserved judgment as to the “better” definition. See id. at 49–55.

 [213]. See Press Release, U.S. Att’y’s Office for the S.D.N.Y., Statement on Second Circuit Decision, United States v. Sheldon Silver (July 13, 2017), https://www.justice.gov/usao-sdny/pr/statement-acting-us-attorney-joon-h-kim-second-circuit-decision-united-states-v-sheldon (“While we are disappointed by the Second Circuit’s decision, we respect it, and look forward to retrying the case. . . . Although it will be delayed, we do not expect justice to be denied.”) (statement of Acting U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York, Joon H. Kim, in response to the Second Circuit’s decision to overturn the conviction); see also Wang, supra note 8 (Skelos convicted); Weiser, supra note 8 (Silver convicted).

 [214]. See United States v. Skelos, 707 F. App’x 733, 739 (2d Cir. 2017); U.S. v. Silver, 864 F.3d 102, 124 (2d Cir. 2017).

[T]he evidence presented by the Government was sufficient to prove the Hobbs Act extortion and honest services fraud counts of conviction against Silver[,] . . . [and] the evidence presented by the Government was sufficient to prove the money laundering count of conviction against Silver because the Government was not required to trace criminal funds that were commingled with legitimate funds under 18 U.S.C. § 1957.

Silver, 864 F.3d at 124.

 [215]. See, e.g., Marshall Cohen et al., Tracking the Russia Investigations, CNN, https://www.cnn.com/interactive/2017/politics/russia-investigations (last visited Nov. 30, 2018); Scott Shane & Mark Mazzetti, The Plot to Subvert an Election, N.Y. Times (Sept. 20, 2018), https://nyti.ms/2NmUclP.

 [216]. See Shane & Mazzeti, supra note 215.

 [217]. See Sarah Chayes, It Was a Corruption Election. It’s Time We Realized It, Foreign Pol’y (Dec. 6, 2016, 1:02 PM), http://foreignpolicy.com/2016/12/06/it-was-a-corruption-election-its-time-we-realized-it-trump-united-states.

 [218]. Leon Trotsky, Their Morals and Ours, New Int’l, June 1938, at 163, 172.

 [219]. See Michael Klarman, Opinion, The Supreme Court Is Most Powerful When It Follows Public Opinion, N.Y. Times (July 6, 2015), https://nyti.ms/2CQ3AYL (“Rulings such as Brown v. Board of Education and Obergefell were inconceivable until enormous changes in the surrounding social and political context had first occurred.”).

 [220]. Id.

Recovering Our Forgotten Preamble – Article by John W. Welch & James A. Heilpern

From Volume 91, Number 6 (September 2018)
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RECOVERING OUR FORGOTTEN PREAMBLE

John W. Welch[*] and James A. Heilpern[†]

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

I. The Preamble: From Inception to Jacobson

A. Beginnings of the Preamble in the Articles of Confederation

B. The Preamble and the Constitutional Convention

C. Drawing Strength from Public Voices: State
Constitutions and Charters

D. Evoking Authority from King James Vocabulary

E. The Preamble and its Eighteenth-Century
Understanding of Rights

F. The Legal Import of Statutory Preambles in the
Common Law

G. The Preamble in the State Ratification Process

I. Corpus Linguistics of Early American English in the Preamble

1. Domestic Tranquility

2. Common Defence

3. General Welfare

4. Blessings of Liberty

J. Early Supreme Court Decisions Citing the Preamble

K. Use of the Preamble by Political Actors in the
Nineteenth Century

1. The 1830 Debate on the Nature of the Constitution

2. Justice Joseph Story’s Commentaries on the
Constitution (1833)

3. Former President John Quincy Adams and Others

4. President Abraham Lincoln

L. Preambles in State Constitutions in the
Nineteenth Century

II. Limiting Jacobson’s Statements Regarding the Preamble

A. Facts and Arguments in Jacobson

B. The Opinion of the United States Supreme Court

C. Judicial Options for Limiting Jacobson’s Statements
About the Preamble

III. The Preamble in the Twentieth Century

A. Jacobson in the Federal Courts

B. Legal Scholarship and the Preamble

C. Preambles in Comparative Constitutional Law

1. South Africa

2. Germany

3. India

IV. Taking the Preamble More Seriously

A. Legal Roles of the Preamble in Constitutional Law

B. Responding to Objections against Legal Roles for the Preamble

 

Introduction

This Article argues that the Preamble to the Constitution of the United States of America deserves a primary place in constitutional law, in federal judicial decision-making, and in the nation’s civic discourse. The Preamble does more than set forth general, vague aspirations. It epitomizes the particular purposes behind the adoption of the Constitution that were desperately needed to repair and replace the faltering Articles of Confederation. The Preamble’s words were specifically and methodically chosen, both in the Preamble itself and often within the body of the Constitution. Based on their prompt affirmative vote, all members of the Constitutional Convention, which drafted the version of the Constitution that was submitted to the thirteen states for ratification, readily embraced the Preamble.[1] Some delegates stated explicitly that it should be used as the key to interpreting the Constitution, its meanings, intentions, purposes, and limitations.[2] Indeed, it is doubtful that the Constitution would have been ratified without the text of the Preamble prominently standing at the top of the proposed document, and the Preamble occupied a dominant and valuable position at the head of constitutional analysis throughout the nineteenth century.[3]

In 1905, however, the United States Supreme Court decided the case of Jacobson v. Massachusetts.[4] This case has been rarely discussed at any length and is only cited summarily.[5] Perhaps somewhat unwittingly, the Court used language that has been understood to relegate the Preamble to a minor, insubstantial role: “Although that Preamble indicates the general purposes for which the people ordained and established the Constitution, it has never been regarded as the source of any substantive power conferred on the Government of the United States or on any of its Departments.”[6] The Court then went on summarily to treat the Preamble as irrelevant to the case.

As will be demonstrated here, the Court’s unnecessarily broad language should be seen as dicta or should otherwise be narrowed or recalibrated. Although in some senses the Preamble may not be a “source of any substantive power” conferred upon the federal government by the people of the United States, this does not mean that the Preamble does not serve any legal functions, as has been consequently generally thought. Instead, the Preamble is a collective source of unifying objectives for the operation of the American democratic republic. It is a formative statement of guiding principles to be used in interpreting the meaning of the words and structures found in the body of the Constitution. It is a body of authorizing statements of purpose that regulate the reasons behind the organic operations of the federal government. And it constitutes a selected list of limits that set boundaries beyond which the federal government is not authorized to go. The 1905 assertion by the Supreme Court and its application in Jacobson was based on little, if any, substantive research, briefing, discussion, argument, or consideration. Moreover, this opening point in the Jacobson opinion was not material to the holding of the case. Consequently, this dicta should be clarified or otherwise revised.

Jacobson’s dicta has gone down in subsequent judicial history and political thought as a controlling dismissal of the idea that the Preamble to the Constitution of the United States has much if any legal power or effect,[7] and it has most likely contributed to the popular idea that the Preamble has little or no legal value or judicial usefulness. As a result, the Preamble has been largely forgotten, and developments during the intervening century of American constitutional law and politics since Jacobson have left constitutional law in the United States in an odd position of unnecessary weakness, lacking purposeful guidance. The Preamble is rarely mentioned in federal court opinions, in constitutional law treatises, or in leading law school constitutional textbooks. Increasingly, the Preamble is taught or memorized less often in primary or secondary school curricula. At a time when constitutional courts could use principled guidance more than ever before in drawing upon the fundamental purposes that give American constitutional jurisprudence its unifying coherence and authority, it is unfortunate that the Preamble’s primary written articulation of those leading civic values and defining governmental purposes goes almost entirely unmentioned.

In order to lay a foundation for assessing Jacobson’s unsupported claim that the Preamble had “never been regarded as the source of any substantive power” and also to expand Jacobson’s glancing reference to Justice Joseph Story’s 1833 Commentary on the Constitution, Part I of this study begins at the inception of the American Republic and examines the legal and textual history of the Preamble from the founding era of the United States of America until the end of the nineteenth century. This Part develops several lines of inquiry and analysis in order to broaden and strengthen any understanding of the Preamble. This study aims to appeal both to those who favor a more authoritative originalist approach and to those who prefer a more organic living approach. It will be shown that the Preamble was intended to be and functioned as an important statement of specific and exclusive purposes to be undertaken by the federal government.

Questions raised here will include: What problems had arisen under the Articles of Confederation? What words from the Articles of Confederation were retained by the Preamble in addressing those problems? What purposes did the members of the Constitutional Convention see in the Preamble, based on their use of language from preambles in earlier state constitutions and the use of “whereas clauses” or prologues in legal documents under the Common Law in the late-eighteenth century? Other questions explore the importance of the Preamble in the ratification of the Constitution and how the Preamble relates to the Ninth and Tenth Amendments, especially the lack of the word “expressly” in the latter.

Using the latest technology and the Corpus Linguistics data base, the contemporaneous late-eighteenth century meanings of main terms in the Preamble will be explored. Part I then goes on to consider how people understood and used the Preamble during the Early American Republic and through the end of the nineteenth century leading up to Jacobson. It will be shown that the principles embedded in the Preamble were viewed as articulating the essence of the Constitution and that the Preamble was considered by some to be, in theory, the key of constitutional law. Although debated, the dominant view allowed for the Preamble to be seen as providing implied powers as well as purposeful guidance to all of the operations of the United States.[8] Questions include: How was the Preamble understood by the Supreme Court in the early nineteenth century? How was the Preamble used in the great 1830 debate over the nature of the Constitution, understood in the 1833 commentary by Harvard professor and Supreme Court Justice Joseph Story, celebrated by John Quincy Adams in the 1837 constitutional jubilee, and crucially invoked by President Abraham Lincoln and others in the mid-nineteenth century? Finally, the development of preambles in state constitutions throughout the nineteenth century shows that the individual state constitutional preambles carefully made use of language from the federal Preamble, affirming the legal import of constitutional preambles generally. All of this sheds light on how the Preamble contributed legally to Constitutional law in many ways.

Part II of this article then offers a detailed examination of the 1905 Supreme Court opinion in Jacobson v. Massachusetts. It will be argued, on several grounds, that this case should not be cited for the propositions that the Preamble is not law or that it is not part of the Constitution, as some courts and public discourse have in effect taken that case to mean. Since the holding of this case turned on other factual grounds irrespective of the Preamble, its characterization of the Preamble should be limited or otherwise dismissed as dicta without affecting or overturning the actual holding of that case. Indeed, this general understanding of Jacobson should be modified, as it represents an unwarranted departure from eighteenth- and nineteenth-century American jurisprudence of the Preamble, which actually placed meaning in the Preamble.

Part III then surveys how Jacobson has been interpreted by federal courts since 1905. At first, Jacobson’s marginalizing of the Preamble was readily accepted, but in many subsequent cases, Jacobson has been ignored.

The relatively few law review articles or essays about the Preamble will be surveyed to show that the Preamble is rightly seen as more than aspirational or wishful (or dangerous) thinking. The Preamble has instead served a number of legal purposes and has helped constitutional law stay responsive to major social changes and legal developments during the years since Jacobson. Comparative constitutional law also shows that preambles generally are treated as legally important in the jurisprudence of several countries. International legal experience shows that the terms in preambles are no broader or any less important than other important foundational terms in constitutions.

Part IV draws together several strands running through this article, pondering what constitutional law in the twenty-first century might look like if our overlooked Preamble were to be referenced more often for authoritative guidance. Possible legal functions for the Preamble will be sketched. It can serve well to clarify, interpret, define, limit, oblige, balance, unite, direct, motivate, persuade, guide, and legitimize any action of the federal government, and to provide the foundation for determining the scope of substantive rights established and secured by the Constitution as a whole.

Very different from the perception left by Jacobson, this view of the Preamble aligns with James Monroe’s 1788 publication calling the Preamble “the Key of the Constitution” and declaring, “[w]henever federal power is exercised, contrary to the spirit breathed by this introduction, it will be unconstitutionally exercised, and ought to be resisted by the people.”[9] Altogether, this Article encourages citizens, lawyers, officials, judges, scholars, diplomats, educators, and politicians throughout America to take the Preamble more seriously than it was taken in the twentieth century under the chilling effects of Jacobson. But before the Preamble can be used generally, its legal force and effects need to be recovered, remembered, and reinstated. For reference throughout this article, the words of the full text of the 1787 Preamble, with its parties, verbs, nouns, and adjectives, reads as follows:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

I.  The Preamble: From Inception to Jacobson

Any assessment of Jacobson’s dismissive claim that the Preamble has “never been regarded as the source of any substantive power”[10] needs to begin with an extensive examination of the textual and legal history of the Preamble. The fifty-two words of the Preamble formed the single constitutional shot that, in 1787, was heard ‘round the world. It could easily take fifty-two weeks, or maybe years, to unpack everything that the Preamble says, what it stands for, and how it has been used over the intervening years. The following pages strive to show that the Preamble was intended and understood to functionand that it did indeed function for its first centuryas an important principled statement of the specific legal purposes to be undertaken by the federal government.

A.  Beginnings of the Preamble in the Articles of Confederation

It is common knowledge that problems quickly arose under the Articles of Confederation during the final stages of the American struggle for independence from Great Britain. It is less known that significant terms of the Preamble were derived from the Articles as the Founders responded to those particular problems.

Prior to the ratification of the Constitution, the colonies were governed by the “Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union between the States.[11] Created on November 15, 1777 and signed in July of 1778, the Articles of Confederation were officially ratified by the colonies on March 1, 1781.[12] They served as the only governing document of the United States until the era of the Constitution began in 1787.[13] The Articles were intentionally weak in certain respects, but hoped to bind the colonies in what was termed a “firm league of friendship.”[14]

The Articles began nothing like the Preamble. Beginning with an opening salutation that declared that the Delegates had signed the following agreement, they then simply announced: “Whereas the Delegates of the United States of America in Congress assembled, did . . . agree to certain Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union between the states of . . .,” and then went on to name—twice—each of the thirteen states. But beyond its unimpressive “whereas” clause, the Articles of Confederation lacked a preamble. And yet, that governing document paved the way for the Preamble to the Constitution in two ways: in some of its wording and in several of its failings.

Article I of the Articles of Confederation gave the central government the name of “The United States of America,” the national title that would be retained in the Preamble to the Constitution.[15]

Article III set forth the three specific purposes for the league of confederation in serving its members and their citizens: “for their common defense, the security of their liberties, and their mutual and general welfare . . . .[16] The confederation saw these purposes as setting mutually binding legal obligations (“binding themselves”) to the duty to, “assist each other against all force offered to, or attacks made upon them, or any of them, on account of religion, sovereignty, trade, or any other pretence whatever.”[17] Several noticeable words in these obligating phrases in Article III were retained in the Preamble to the Constitution of the United States.

While these provisions united the colonial states under a common name, they made it clear that each state retained its own status as a sovereign entity. In doing so, the Articles declared that the states retained each and every power beyond those purposes that were not “expressly delegated to the United States, in Congress assembled,”[18] thus expressly limiting and curtailing the powers and functions of the central regime.

With respect to foreign relations, Article VI allowed the states to make treaties, develop navies, or engage in war, but only with “the consent of the United States, in Congress assembled.”[19] Articles VII and VIII likewise established the expectation that states raise their own armies, while any expenses “incurred for the common defence or general welfare, and allowed by the United States, in Congress assembled,” were to be “defrayed out of a common treasury,” but that common pool was to be funded by the states in proportion to the total values of their lands and properties.[20] The words “common defense or general welfare” would be included, as a pair, in Article I, Section 8, Clause 1 of the Constitution, and also would be placed, with slight separation, in the Preamble.

Articles V, VI, VII, and IX established rules by which the central authorities would coordinate affairs between the states, laying out the central governing process, as well as prescribing policies and procedures for conducting foreign affairs and military matters.[21] Again, limitations and exceptions were stated. For example, Congress was given the power to be “the last resort on appeal” of all disputes between two or more states, so long as an elaborate procedure was followed for empaneling the court for hearing the matter and provided also that “no State shall be deprived of territory for the benefit of the United States.”[22] Concerns were ever present to define, protect, and curtail grants of authority given to the central government.

While the Articles of Confederation provided for a loose bond between the states and although it was intended “that the Union shall be perpetual,”[23] too many necessary powers and ideals were missing to create a lasting form of government. Only ten years after it was drafted and six years after its 1781 ratification, the Constitutional Convention began with the deliberate purpose of revising and improving the document.[24] The need for this revision stemmed primarily from three overarching problems with the document.

First, the central government established by the Articles of Confederation lacked crucial components. For example, the Articles of Confederation did not establish a federal executive branch or a federal judicial branch,[25] as many state constitutions had already established state-level executive and judicial branches.[26]

Second, and relatedly, the central government under the Articles of Confederation was ill designed. The Congress established by the Articles of Confederation was ill equipped. The simple, single chamber Congress, with a one-vote-per-state design, did not account for the population differences amongst the states. Additionally, the super-majority requirement for passing any new legislation was too difficult to achieve and therefore stalled any legislation being considered in Congress. The Articles of Confederation did not give its Congress the ability to tax[27] nor the ability to regulate commerce. Therefore, when great debt befell the nation during and following the Revolutionary War, there were no mechanisms for the federal government to receive additional funds to pay down the debt.[28]

And third, the several states retained too much independence. While a level of federalism exists under the Constitution, the Articles allowed states to pursue independent foreign policies and trade and to establish their own separate monetary systems,[29] making it nearly impossible to centrally govern. It soon became clear that that the “firm league of friendship” between the states was insufficient to sustain a growing population and economy.

Although the Articles of Confederation had not distilled and brought together a salient statement of its foundational purposes and binding goals, its terminology included fundamental words such as “united,” “union,” “justice,” “common defense,” “general welfare,” “secure,” and “liberties.” The fact that these words were perpetuated from the body of the Articles of Confederation into the United States Constitution through the Preamble reinforces the view that the Preamble was not only an integral part of the Constitution, but also served valuable substantive legal purposes.

B.  The Preamble and the Constitutional Convention

The Constitutional Convention began in May of 1787 with the purpose of revising and amending the Articles of Confederation. The initially stated reason for the Convention was to “correct[] & enlarge[]” the Articles so as “to accomplish the objects proposed by their institution; namely ‘common defense, security of liberty and general welfare.’”[30] Ultimately, the Convention did not merely alter and enlarge the Articles of Confederation but produced a significantly new frame and form of government.

While the Articles of Confederation would cease to be the governing document of the United States, several aspects of those Articles, and at times direct terms from that document, were included in the ratified version of the Constitution. One of the clearest of these borrowings is found in the Preamble. Article III of the Articles of Confederation had stated: “The said states hereby severally enter into a firm league of friendship with each other, for their common defense, the security of their liberties, and their mutual and general welfare.”[31] The heart of the Preamble to the Constitution similarly states that the Constitution is established to “provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare,” and “secure the blessings of liberty.”[32] While the Constitution laid out many more specifics and created a stronger central government, the core legal goals of the two documents are overlapping.

Very few statements in the records of the Constitutional Convention report on the actual drafting of the Preamble. The only substantive mention of the Preamble in the records of the Convention came in the assignment given to the Committee of Detail regarding their review of draft one. The Committee of Detail was created on July 24, 1787, and was charged “to prepare & report a Constitution conformable” to “the proceedings of the Convention.”[33] From July 26, 1787 to August 6, 1787, the Convention adjourned to provide the Committee of Detail time to draft the initial document.[34] The Committee of Detail was a five-member committee led by Chairman John Rutledge (South Carolina), Edmund Randolph (Virginia), Oliver Ellsworth (Connecticut), James Wilson (Pennsylvania), and Nathanial Gorham (Massachusetts).[35] On August 6, after the recess, the Committee of Detail reported their efforts, including a reading of their draft of the Preamble. That initial version of the Preamble proclaimed:

We the people of the States of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, RhodeIsland and Providence Plantations, Connecticut, NewYork, NewJersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, NorthCarolina, SouthCarolina, and Georgia, do ordain, declare, and establish the following Constitution for the Government of Ourselves and our Posterity.[36]

This version of the preamble was not debated by delegates of the Convention and was unanimously accepted.[37]

An early Randolph draft reflects his thinking about preambles in general. He contrasted what he viewed as the purpose of state constitution preambles with the much more limited role that a preamble should play in the federal constitution. Regarding what a preamble should not be:

A preamble seems proper not for the purpose of designating the ends of government and human politics—This []business[] i[s] [probably] . . . fitter for the schools, . . . [and] howsoever proper in the first formation of state governments, . . . is unfit here; since we are not working on the natural rights of men not yet gathered into society, but upon those rights, modified by society, and . . . interwoven with what we call . . . the rights of statesNor yet is it proper for the purpose of mutually pledging the faith of the parties for the observance of the articlesThis may be done more solemnly at the close of the draught, as in the confederation. . . .[38]

“Political theory, in short, was not thought to be a proper concern of a preamble,”[39] and neither should be the solemnization of the adoption of duties. What, then, should the federal Constitution’s Preamble contain, according to Randolph? The Preamble to the federal Constitution should, he continued,

briefly . . . declare, that the present federal [sic] government is insufficient to the general happiness, [and] that the conviction of this fact gave birth to this convention; and that the only effectual (means) . . . which they (could) . . . devise for curing this insufficiency, is the establishment of a supreme legislative[,] executive[,] and judiciary.[40]

Except for the reading of the Preamble before the entire Convention, followed by its unanimous vote, Randolph’s suggestions are the only mention in the records of the Constitutional Convention concerning the purposes of preambles in general, let alone of the wording of the Preamble that was finally adopted. Remarkably, it was precisely the four roles of preambles which Randolph thought would be apropos to the new Constitution—namely to recite historical backgrounds, distressing problems, glaring previous inadequacies, and to make bold assertions of certitude about the solutions offered in the newly proposed document—that the Committee of Style, on September 10 or 11, 1787, apparently rejected as they drafted the Preamble.

While the Committee of Detail was responsible for drafting the initial preamble, the Preamble that was actually included with the Constitution during ratification was drafted by the Committee of Style, which was responsible for revising and finalizing the language of the Constitution.[41] The current Preamble was proposed by the Committee of Style on September 12, 1787.[42] To the pleasure of Randolph, and no doubt meeting the expectations of most of the delegates, its version did not exude a display of sophisticated theory; it did not attempt the Herculean task of balancing the rights of individuals with the rights of states; nor did it prescribe a formal pledge of faithfulness on behalf of those who would ratify the Constitution. Instead, it offered something different and original but at the same time familiar-sounding and readily embraceable.

The Committee of Style was led by Chairman William Johnson (Connecticut), with Alexander Hamilton (New York), Rufus King (Massachusetts), James Madison (Virginia), and Gouverneur Morris (Pennsylvania).[43] While all of these delegates had responsibilities in drafting portions of the Constitution, it is thought that Gouverneur Morris was responsible for drafting the new version of the Preamble.[44] As reported, it read:

WE the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, to establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.[45]

While this new version of the Preamble was neither objected to nor brought to a specific vote of the delegates,[46] after it was read, the word “to” was deleted from the clause “to establish justice,” and this version of the Preamble was included in the final document.

In drafting the Preamble, the Committee on Style was clearly influenced by several sources. All of these political, legal, and cultural sources strategically added needed power to the rhetorical voice of the Preamble. The Committee’s draft honored the concerns expressed in Morris’s and Randolph’s resolution, moved on May 30, 1787 that “a Union of the States merely federal []will not accomplish the objects proposed by the [A]rticles of Confederation, namely, common defence, security of liberty, [and] gen[eral] welfare.”[47]

In addition to retaining those three originally charged objectives, the Committee on Style was also influenced by the Declaration of Independence, in one important respect in particular.[48] Consistent with the root of authority asserted over the king in the Declaration of Independence, the Framers began the Preamble with the phrase “We the People.”[49] This idea of popular authority, as opposed to the authority of the colonies or their resultant states, was reinforced in the Declaration by the further assertions that governments must “deriv[e] their . . . powers from the consent of the governed,” and that they must secure “certain unalienable Rights . . . among [which] are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”[50] It is normally hypothesized that “We the People” was substituted in the final draft of the Preamble to take the place of the names of the thirteen states enumerated in the August 6 draft because it was unknown at that time which nine of the states would come forward first to ratify the document;[51] by saying simply “We the People,” there would be no need to later alter the document to reflect which states comprised the ratifiers. But more than that, to evoke these three powerfully enduring words from the Declaration that had emanated from Philadelphia eleven years earlier was a masterstroke of public relations and political genius.

The records of the Constitutional Convention give little further insight as to why the Preamble was reformulated by the Committee of Style at the very end of the Convention, though that was a natural time for someone to summarize the final work product of the Convention and to draw together the entire contents of the Constitution. The Preamble also satisfied those who wanted to be sure that the federal government would have authorization to achieve its specifically stated purposes, the task that prompted the formation of a Constitutional Convention. The Preamble also assured those who wanted to be certain that the federal government could not drift or wander beyond a limited set of specific duties and responsibilities. The Preamble harmoniously presented the Convention’s purposes and brought a unifying closure to its tedious debating and drafting processes.

C.  Drawing Strength from Public Voices: State Constitutions and Charters

Not pausing long to enjoy a sense of accomplishment, the writers of the Preamble and all of the members of the Convention were already looking ahead, with anxiety, to the next hurdle that the Constitution needed to face: ratification. Here again, frequent stylistic reference to previously used language would help to form, out of the dust of chaos and impending collapse, a more perfect union—a union of all the people, a unity of all their autonomous states, and a united operation of all the branches and departments of the federal government, all checked and balanced. The Preamble built upon the rhetorical voices of several previous foundations. It thereby saved face for those who had supported the Confederation by supportively reviving its three objectives: providing for the common defense; promising the security of liberty; and promoting the general welfare.[52] Speaking to those who wanted to be sure that the duties of state governments were reinforced, other words in the Preamble resonated consonantly with words in the preambles of state constitutions, striking some of the most highly cherished chords in the American political register. By drawing upon several reservoirs of popular rhetorical expressions, the Preamble rang true in the ears of its listening publics. Its vocabulary and cadence sounded familiar and reassuring.

Research has detected in the records of the Constitutional Convention certain phraseologies used by the delegates that may have spawned the need for the additional and revised Preamble language introduced by the Committee of Style. For example, Himmelfarb points to quotidian language that may have inspired the additions of “establish justice” and “ensure domestic tranquility.”[53] Early in the Convention, Roger Sherman, from Connecticut, had posited that the Union had but four objectives: to defend against foreign danger; to defend against internal disputes; to create treaties with foreign nations; and to regulate foreign commerce.[54] While James Madison had objected that Sherman’s list was not comprehensive enough, believing that the Union also had the responsibility to “provid[e] more effectually for the security of private rights, and the steady dispensation of Justice,”[55] the Preamble eventually would nearly quote these and other commonplace propositions. Himmelfarb proposes that the words “ensure domestic tranquility” could stem from point two on Sherman’s list, “to defend against internal disputes.”[56] Likewise, delegate Edmund Randolph had expressed a similar sentiment when he pointed out that one of the main failings of the Articles of Confederation was the inability to regulate “quarrels between states.”[57]

But beyond these parallels coming out of the records of the Convention, additional language found in several of the states’ constitutions can also be suggested as having contributed to the wording of the Preamble. Some scholars, studying the language in the preamble that was added by the Committee of Style, have hypothesized that Gouverneur Morris may have been influenced by language from governing documents of his home state of Pennsylvania.[58] Indeed, the Constitution of Pennsylvania at that time spoke of “posterity” and “blessings of liberty.”[59]

Other state constitutions may have influenced the Preamble’s drafters. For example, the 1780 preamble of the Constitution of Massachusettsthe home state of committee member Rufus Kingfeatured words and phrases such as “to secure,” “safety and tranquility,” “the blessings of life,” “governed by certain laws for the common good,” “provide for,” “for ourselves and posterity,” and “ordain, and establish, the following Declaration of Rights, and Frame of Government, as the Constitution of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.”[60]

And the opening section of the freshly redrafted 1786 Vermont Constitution advanced the “indispensable duty to establish such original principles of government as will best promote the general happiness of the people of this State, and their posterity, and provide for future improvements, without partiality,” and in order to accomplish such ends “do . . . ordain, declare and establish” that 1786 revision of the Green Mountain State’s Constitution.[61]

Other earlier colonial and state constitutions and their declarations of rights reveal yet further possible origins for key provisions of the Preamble. In the central states of Pennsylvania, Virginia, and North Carolina, declarations of rights spoke of preserving the “blessings of liberty.[62] Pennsylvania’s earlier 1776 constitutional preamble spoke of “promot[ing] the general happiness of the people of this State, and their posterity.[63] Several constitutions also spoke of rights designed to provide for the “common defence,”[64] as that word was commonly spelled in those days. The concept of justice and its importance to societal order was expressly repeated in multiple constitutions.[65]

While only the state of Massachusetts had used the word “preamble” at the beginning of its constitution, introductory “whereas” clauses had long been used in the legal drafting of land grants and organizational charters for the colonies.[66] Indeed, the introductory sections of several of the early state constitutions consisted exclusively of whereas clauses reciting the grievances that had led up to the separation of the colonies from England. These historical recitations often spoke of abuses and deprecations the colonists had suffered, but sometimes they expressed hope for a peaceful reconciliation of the conflict with Great Britain, their parent state.[67] It is particularly striking, therefore, that the drafters of the Constitution of the United States no longer saw any need to justify in its Preamble the existence of the United States, the peace with England having been agreed upon in the Treaty of Paris in 1781. It was also, of course, an option to begin the Constitution of the United States without a preamble or any other kind of preview or preface. No preamble or any set of whereas clauses was used in the 1777 Constitution of Delaware or in several bills of rights adopted by some of the states.

But introductory statements traditionally were used to set forth the purposes to be accomplished by public organic documents. Some of the very early colonial charters had mentioned at their outset certain goals to be achieved and duties to be fulfilled by the newly formed local government, articulating among other objectives the government’s duty to preserve “liberty,” “peace,” and “tranquility.”[68] Perpetuating that tradition, many of the constitutions of the newly formed states likewise articulated the objectives and purposes with which their state governments were charged to achieve.[69] Drawing upon the precedential force and effect of such statements, the Preamble to the Constitution of the United States used language that was fairly similar to, if not the same as, the statements of purpose found in eight state constitutions. As a rule, these statements of purpose were set forth in state constitutions in order to recognize and define the constitutional duties of government.[70] They spoke inclusively—individually and collectively—of “the happiness and safety of their constituents in particular and America in general,”[71] as they sought to “secure the existence of the bodypolitic” as well as “to furnish the individuals who compose it” their “natural rights” and “blessings of life.”[72]

Also, like the Preamble, state constitutions, at their outset, often mentioned the authority by which the state government was being established. Some constitutions explicitly asserted that “all government of right originates from the people,” using various phrases to invoke the sovereign power of the people,[73] which would be the drafting choice preferred by the writers of the Preamble. Alternatively, many state constitutions traced their authority to the representatives duly elected to serve as delegates from the people.[74] One constitution, that of Massachusetts, went further to acknowledge “with grateful hearts, the goodness of the great Legislator of the universe, . . . imploring His direction,”[75] following an older form used in formative colonial documents to remember God as an ultimate source of authority.[76] Five states bolstered their legal position by tracing their legitimacy to the recommendation that had been issued by the Continental Congress.[77] Nothing in the way of prior historical problems or of remote imprimaturs was implied in the Preamble’s sole authorizing reference to “We the People.”

It was also common for charters, grants, and organic governing documents in the colonial period to speak of their intended open-ended legal duration. Sometimes the wording spoke of rights running to “posterity” in general,[78] but more often, this legal language was patterned after the common law wording of a fee simple absolute property right being alienable to heirs, assignees, and successors forever, inasmuch as the charters usually dealt with land grants.[79] But the state constitutions of Pennsylvania and Virginia set a new pattern in bestowing not just property but constitutional rights and privileges upon “the people . . . and their posterity,”[80] explicitly affirming “which rights do pertain to them and their posterity.”[81] The Preamble would prefer the phrase “the blessings of liberty for ourselves and our posterity,” over other formulations, including a simple reference to futurity, as the Constitution of Georgia had done.[82]

Following long-standing drafting conventions, a variety of consensual or enactment clauses are found in about half of the state constitutions, which use words such as “do will,” “agree,” “ordain,” “declare,” “appoint,” “establish,” or “determine.”[83] Using even sparser, yet highly effectual wording, the Preamble simply set forth its creative purpose, namely to “form a more perfect union,” and to that end did “ordain and establish” the Constitution.

The fact that the Preamble generated rhetorical power and legitimizing strength through all of these legal associations with wordings and functions of organic colonial charters and state constitutions proves that more was being intentionally signaled and signified by the Preamble than an empty formality or mere procedural protocol.

D.  Evoking Authority from King James Vocabulary

It is also noteworthy that several of the words in the Preamble are congruent with biblical phraseology, for the King James language was a significant part of common American language of that day. Whether consciously or subconsciously, biblical elements added yet another voice of recognized authority and enduring reassurance to the overall brilliance of the Preamble. Without any doubt, religion and the Bible were strong factors that justified and emboldened the American colonists and revolutionaries.[84]

Numerous verbatim texts and express legal provisions in the Bible, especially in the authorized King James English, had found their ways into colonial statutes. Beginning with the adoption of the first Capital Laws in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1641, such borrowings or adaptations persisted in the enactment of various colonial laws in the 1800s.[85] The Continental Congress was so deeply concerned with the morale and spiritual condition of its troops that, in 1777 and 1780, it supported the printing and importing of Bibles in order to provide them to civil and military officers, since it was trusted that “an unfailing antidote to immorality was Bible reading;” and in 1787, Congress asserted in the Northwest Ordinance that religion “was one of the principal elements ‘necessary to good government and the happiness of mankind.’”[86] Christian religious literature and values provided much of the ordinary pallet of colors from which the Preamble was painted.

Popular religion and political government occupied their separate spaces, but they often worked pragmatically together. Even Thomas Jefferson’s heavily weighted 1802 Danbury Letter likely did not see the wall of separation between church and state as a wall devoid of any interconnecting windows or doors. Jefferson’s draft of this letter to the Danbury Baptist Association in Connecticut originally read “a wall of eternal separation between church and state,” before Jefferson crossed out the word “eternal.”[87] As Alexis de Tocqueville perceptively observed in 1835:

Religion in America takes no direct part in the government of society, but it must be regarded as the first of their political institutions; for if it does not impart a taste for freedom, it facilitates the use of it. . . . [T]hey hold [religion] to be indispensable to the maintenance of republican institutions.[88]

Among the Founders who esteemed the Bible highly were John Adams, who said of the Bible: “It is the most Republican Book in the World;” and Benjamin Rush, who asserted: “All systems of religion, morals, and government not founded upon it must perish.”[89] Benjamin Franklin recommended, and Thomas Jefferson undertook, their own revisions of the Bible to bolster its contemporary comprehension and public esteem.[90] In one of his landmark studies of society and rhetoric in the early American republic, Harry Stout astutely concluded that while

the classical and Puritan rhetorical worlds had much in common, . . . [i]n the early years of the republic, these differences were largely inferential and philosophical—more matters of emphasis and priority than mutually exclusive categories. . . . The clergy oriented their speech and commentary around the vernacular Bible—read and internalized by most New England inhabitants for one and a half centuries. For most of the framers, the Bible stood to the side of political oratory as a more or less licit guest that could be brought in to legitimate truths that enlightened reason made clear. . . . The Bible supplied . . . metaphors and analogies, both religious and political.[91]

Understanding these cultural backgrounds sheds light on the meaning and power of the words and purposes set forth in the Preamblethe bold opening of the Constitution. While in some cases, wordings are no more than merely suggestive, the following examples show that being mindful of the force of the King James language behind several words in the Preamble brings to light an important dimension of rhetoric and meaning to this text that was intended, and needed, to be influential. From these words, the Preamble drew and evoked subtle signifiers of authority.

Consider the verb “to form,” in the directive “in order to form a more perfect union.” It is a strong, active term, grammatically in the infinitive mood, conveying connotations of shaping or creating something new, purposeful, and enduring. In the King James Version of Genesis, the word “form” stands prominently in the creation account: “the earth was without form . . .; God formed man . . .; God formed every . . . .”[92] Echoes of this creational term resonate, as a bookend, at the conclusion of the Torah in Deuteronomy: “that God formed;[93] and also in Isaiah, the leading book among the Hebrew prophets: “thou art my servant, I have formed thee, . . . I formed the light and created, . . . formed the earth, . . . formed me from the womb.”[94] In the Noah Webster’s 1828 American Dictionary of the English Language, the first of fourteen meanings for the verb “to form” is a “To make or cause to exist. And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground. Gen. ii.”[95] In addition, the English translation of the Hebrew Bible speaks 121 times of Jehovah acting to “establish” his people: it was the “Lord that formed it to establish it.”[96] Again, the first of eight meanings given by Webster was “to set and fix firmly or unalterably; to settle permanently,” citing Genesis 17.[97] These well-known usages confer exalted authority upon “We, the People,” who now undertake to “form” and “establish” this new order of governance.

Also mentioned in formative biblical texts, but not as prominently, are other words. The word “justice” occurs thirty-eight times as an ideal of judgment, goodness, and happiness.[98] For example, it was known that Abraham would command his children and that they will “do justice and judgment,” and Deuteronomy admonished, “[t]hat which is altogether just thou shalt follow.”[99]

With the word “perfect,” Bible-literate early Americans would think readily of the New Testament’s invitation, “be ye therefore perfect,” even if in weakness,[100] and also of Paul’s directive that the purpose of ecclesiastical leaders was to serve their people to help them grow “unto the perfect man.”[101]

Beyond that, the Preamble’s phrase “more perfect” might seem like an oxymoron: how can there be degrees of perfection? The biblical idiom, however, allows the use of the comparative, in the sense of being closer to being more finished, or more worthy, as in “having more perfect knowledge,”[102]or “by a greater and more perfect tabernacle.”[103]

Union, or unity, was also a salient biblical ideal, in passages ranging from the Psalms, to the New Testament epistles, to the last words of Jesus: that the people might “dwell together in unity;”[104] “endeavouring to keep the unity . . . [t]ill we all come in the unity of the faith;”[105] “that they be made perfect in one.”[106] The word “union” had several connotations in American English, both political and ecclesiastical.[107]

Holding and using collected resources in “common” for the community was a virtuous ideal of the new followers of Jesus in the book of Acts.[108] The word was widely used in early American law and society, including common law, courts of common pleas, common recovery, and common appendant, as well as common prayer.

The desire to obtain and insure “blessings” notably evoked the language of Genesis, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy, in which numerous references can be found to the stipulation that the blessings of peace and prosperity will follow orderliness, while catastrophes follow lawlessness.[109] Religious uses of the words “bless” and “blessing” are copious and predominant.[110]

The word “ordain,” to any eighteenth-century ear, might have reminded people of an obscure statement in Shakespeare’s Cymbeline: “Mulmutius[,] [the legendary first English king,] . . . ordained our laws. Mulmutius made our laws.”[111] But this word might have most readily called to mind the more familiar meanings of ordaining of ministers with sacerdotal power by those in authority,[112] or certain biblical passages affirming that a law could be ordained by God legitimately through Joseph in Egypt,[113] and that God will “ordain peace for us.”[114]

With the word “posterity” appearing nine times in all three biblical groupings of textsthe law, the prophets, and the writings[115]initial hearers of the solemn language of the Preamble might well have thought of the blessings promised to Abraham of “seed” (posterity) as numerous as the sands of the sea.[116]

Regarding the blessings of “liberty,” the top line of the inscription on the Liberty Bell, which hung in and rang out from Independence Hall, the building in which the Constitutional Convention was held, reads, “Proclaim Liberty throughout the Land unto All the Inhabitants thereof. Lev. XXV X.[117] This banner originates from the introduction of the jubilee law found in Leviticus 25:10. That compelling biblical ideal of beginning anew every fifty years held out promises to the poor of debt forgiveness, release from slavery and servitude, rights of redemption of family lands that had been sold under duress, relief for the oppressed, and, in short, care for the general welfare.[118]

These words used in the Preamble were obviously not found exclusively in the Bible, but some of these wordings were more distinctively biblical than others. And in addition, even the more generic words augmented the general biblicisms standing behind the Preamble. This is not to suggest that the Founders were making intentional allusions to specific passages of the Bible, but rather were writing in a particular dialect or style, with formalistic cadences and structure that conveyed moral and sacred implications,[119] which reinforced political applications. Working together, whether consciously or subliminally, they evoked traditional or even divine sources of approval for the adoption of the new Constitution as a whole. They imbued it with an aura of solemnity.

The need for such overarching authority was critical for multiple reasons. This authoritative register stood in place of the unifying authority previously provided by the existence of the monarchy, and it reassured the colonists, calming the anguish of treason and of post-war traumatic stresses. The new Constitution was not to be seen as a revision of the old Articles of Confederation. As George Washington said in his call for the Constitutional Convention, “all attempts to alter or amend” would not solve the problems, “like the propping of a house which is ready to fall.”[120] Concisely stated, “[w]hat was needed was replacement,”[121] and in an atmosphere when the very legality of such an effort was in question, what that replacement crucially needed was the rhetorical reinforcement and ethical footing that the Preamble alone provided.

How each of the words and phrases in the Preamble were fully understood in the United States at this time remains a question for much more research. A “corpus linguistics” analysis of the usages of each of the Preamble’s words—biblical or ordinary, before and after 1787—has already begun, pointing to the several rhetorical modes and contexts in which these words most commonly appeared, and is discussed below.[122] That information, together with further examination, provides further understanding of the general meanings and specific usages of these words in common public discourse in the early American Republic. But for present purposes, the Preamble’s biblical voice adds strength and context to the choir of legal purposes that the Preamble and the Constitution were intended to serve.

E.  The Preamble and its Eighteenth-Century Understanding of Rights

While it exceeds the scope of this Article to retrace the origins of “rights” in Roman and western thought, a brief summary of the intellectual history of rights shows how they were conceived in 1787 (and as recently as shortly before the mid-twentieth century) not as privileges but as “moral powers.”[123] As is skillfully documented by James Hutson, Director of the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress, “the current presumption that the idea of a right was an unchanging feature of American society ‘from the beginning’ conflicts with evidence that, at the dawn of American history, a ‘modern’ understanding of rights was absent or, at best, inchoate.”[124]

Rights, as understood in Roman law, entitled people to their “just share” of society’s “benefits and burdens,” and rights (jura) conferred benefits but at the same time burdens and obligations to create “a just and harmonious order.”[125] Understood this way, rights were “objective” and naturally imposed duties, both to be proactive and preventative. Rights thus came to be seen as powers, most famously in Ockham’s persuasive arguments on behalf of the Franciscans that the Pope’s plan for them to have rights over property, which they did not want, stood just as contrary to the Franciscan the vow of poverty as did possessing the property itself. But with this development, rights shifted from being “objective” to being “subjective”; that is, not referring to some “share of an external object,” but as a “power inherent in an individual.”[126] And, being “conferred upon man” by his Creator, subjective rights carried with them not only the old notions of burdens and duties but also were “grounded in religion” in general and “on Christian morality” in specific.[127]

In the ensuing centuries, philosophical and legal developments elaborated the contours of subjective rights, until in eighteenth-century America, John Locke, following Grotius, derived all “rights from duties.”[128] John Dunn “stressed that Locke’s concept of rights must be understood in the context of his religious belief,” and asserted “all the rights humans have . . . derive from, depend upon and are rigidly constrained by a framework of objective duty, [which constitutes] God’s requirement for human agents.”[129] So understood, subjective rights were necessary to perform the duties that God, nature, or society had imposed upon them. “A right, therefore, in the new United States meant, in its fullest sense, power inherent in and owned by an individual to act in a way consistent with Christian morality.”[130] In the words of Vattel, a right was “nothing more than the power of doing what is morally possible.”[131] It was in this sense that rights were axiomatic for the founding generation of the Constitution.

Responding to Rousseau’s claim that Americans had invented the science of rights, John Adams argued they had simply “found it in their religion.”[132] Whether this clever statement of Adams represents a majority or minority view among the Founders or not, it is clear that the popular view of the science of subjective rights as based on duties—the view which prevailed in Adams’ day—has been largely forgotten since the middle of the twentieth century.

By losing that bearing, American jurisprudence has also lost touch with the eighteenth-century communitarian foundations and civic functions of the Preamble, for it is in the Preamble that particular duties of the people, which are delegated to their representative governments, are to be found. Those duties are the purposes obligingly undertaken by all, “We the People,” in recognition of the powers given to each to do what is possible to form a more perfectly united nation, to establish social justice, to ensure collective tranquility, to provide cooperatively for the common defense, to promote and facilitate the well-being of the nation, and to permanently secure and maintain the blessings of liberty for themselves and also for generations to come.

These duties, which would have been seen as necessarily latent in the language of the Preamble, are detected especially through the lens of its biblical and moral terminology. In the eighteenth-century view, the Preamble—a bill of duties—is, of logical necessity, the origin of the subjective rights bestowed upon each subject. Concurrently, constitutionally granted powers—that is, rights, privileges, and protections—also reciprocally include the enumeration of conditions and abilities needed to accomplish the attendant moral obligations.

F.  The Legal Import of Statutory Preambles in the Common Law

Recognizing the cognate texts in the history of deliberations over the Constitution, in the preambles of state constitutions, and in the solemn language of faithful commitment that prevailed in the shared rhetoric of the early American Republic is just the beginning in the quest to unpack, deconstruct, or reconstruct, for legal purposes, the meanings of the words and phrases in the Preamble. To gain yet another sense of the Preamble’s possible intended legal effects, the following section adds one more consideration, namely, how statutory preambles were legally understood in eighteenth century English law.

The Constitution is not the only legal document to begin with a purpose statement. Many statutes have preambles that establish the goals and purposes of the legislation. These preambles have long been given authoritative weight in construing statutes and, more particularly, when resolving statutory ambiguities. Specifically, around the time of the Ratification, courts regularly turned to statutory preambles to better understand and effectuate the legislature’s intent. Thus, ignoring the Constitution’s Preamble would be a significant departure from the original methods of interpreting public law as would have been understood by the Framers and the delegates in the state ratification conventions.

Much of our understanding of the interpretive enterprise is derived from English law traditions. Leading up to the American Revolution, colonial law was largely a product of English law principles.[133] One such principle was that statutory preambles ought to be given at least some weight when making sense of laws. For pre-colonial English courts, preambles provided a window to the legislature’s intent, in turn allowing courts to interpret the law in a manner that addressed the evils the law sought to remedy.[134] Leading legal commentators of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries captured this principle of interpretation in their writings. Thomas Hobbes advised lawmakers to concisely state “why the Law was made,” for “the Perspicuity, consisteth not so much in the words of the Law it selfe, as in a Declaration of the Causes, and Motives, for which it was made. That is it, that shewes us the meaning of the Legislator.”[135] Edward Coke likewise stated that preambles are a “good mean to find out the meaning of the statute” and “key” to having an open understanding of the law.[136] Likewise, William Blackstone wrote that, “the proem, or preamble, is often called in to help the construction of an act of parliament.”[137]

This interpretive rule generally persisted throughout the eighteenth century[138] and found its way into American courts.[139] However, at the time when the Constitution was being ratified, the general rule was tempered. One of the parties in Paca’s Lessee v. Forwood articulated this principle in 1787 in terms of the then well-established rule of statutory interpretation:

Though it is true, as a general rule, that the preamble of a statute is the key to open the minds of the makers as to the mischiefs which are intended to be remedied by the statute, yet this rule must not be carried so far as to restrain the general words of the enacting clause by the particular words of the preamble.[140]

In 1790, in Hubley’s Lessee v. White, the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania stated that although a statutory preamble should be given “considerable weight in discovering [the statute’s] meaning,” the preamble cannot “control the clear and positive words of the enacting part.”[141] “[I]t may [only] explain them if ambiguous.”[142]

Thus, preambles in the eighteenth century played a valuable role in statutory interpretation. To ignore the preamble to any legal document of that day, let alone any state or national constitution, is to turn one’s back on an original method of interpreting legal texts. To trace next how the Constitution’s Preamble was actually understood and received by its first essential audience—the delegates at the state ratifying conventions—it is helpful to review the ratification debates amongst the states and consider what role or roles they envisioned the Preamble playing.

G.  The Preamble in the State Ratification Process

The public ratification process began in earnest when the Constitution was first presented to the American people in the Philadelphia newspaper, Pennsylvania Packet, and Daily Advertiser, on September 19, 1787.[143] It was front-page news. The Preamble was set conspicuously in very large font, while the rest of the Constitution was the fine print.[144] Within weeks, the Constitution was printed as a sixteenpage pamphlet, again with the Preamble prominently typeset as the title page, followed by the text of the Constitution’s body set in smaller, regular type.[145] Thus, from the beginning, the public perception of the Constitution was captured by the Preamble; it boldly epitomized what the Constitution promised to deliver. Accordingly, one might well wonder: was it the Preamble, more than anything else, that finally tipped the voters’ scales and secured the successful adoption of the Constitution?

Recognizing that the Preamble might bear great sway, some opponents attacked it. Wisely, most proponents simply let the Preamble speak for itself, and thus little was said about the Preamble in the ratification process in the various states. Nevertheless, through those occasional debates, one can learn more about how the Foundersboth Federalists and Anti-Federalistsviewed the Preamble. The arguments in favor of or against the Preamble in the state ratification conventions were consistently based on the same concerns. The broad, sweeping language of the Preamble was a cause for concern with many Anti-Federalists. Worried that the expansive language gave virtually unchecked and unlimited power to the federal government, some Anti-Federalists feared the central government would absorb the states.

Brutus, the pen name for a well-known Anti-Federalist, wrote: “This constitution gives sufficient colour for adopting a[] [broad] construction, if we consider the great end and design it professedly has in view—these appear [in] its preamble . . . . The design of this system is here expressed, and it is proper to give such a meaning to the various parts, as will best promote the accomplishment of the end.”[146] He later repeated his fear of the over-breadth of the Preamble: “If the end of the government is to be learned from [the Preamble’s] words, which are clearly designed to declare it, it is obvious it has in view every object which is embraced by any government . . . .”[147]

Another opponent of Ratification, Maryland delegate Luther Martin, argued a year after the Constitution was signed that the Preamble sought to obliterate state governments:

As altered, every appearance of the existing governments, under their respective Constitutions, is relinquished, the very names struck out, general purposes and powers given extending to every purpose of the social compact, and then this Constitution including all these purposes, is made the Constitution of the United States, without any reserve of the several States or their Constitutions then existing; and then this Constitution enacted for these unlimited purposes, we afterwards find is expressly declared paramount to all Constitutions, and laws existing in the States.[148]

Proponents of the Preamble often allowed the document to speak for itself, but at times pointed out the clear role the Constitution outlines for States. Specifically, they argued that the Preamble actually serves as a restraint, limiting the exercise of the Constitution’s enumerated powers and thus preserving state powers and individual rights. James Madison, a strong Federalist and often considered the “Father of the Constitution,” authored a direct response to these Anti-Federalist arguments in Federalist No. 41.

It has been urged and echoed that the power “to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises, to pay the debts, and provide for the common defense and general welfare of the United States,” amounts to an unlimited commission to exercise every power which may be alleged to be necessary for the common defense or general welfare. No stronger proof could be given of the distress under which these writers labor for objections, than their stooping to such a misconstruction. . . . Nothing is more natural nor common than first to use a general phrase, and then to explain and qualify it by a recital of particulars. But the idea of an enumeration of particulars which neither explain nor qualify the general meaning, and can have no other effect than to confound and mislead, is an absurdity, which, as we are reduced to the dilemma of charging either on the authors of the objection or on the authors of the Constitution, we must take the liberty of supposing, had not its origin with the latter.[149]

Madison argued that the broad language of the Preamble (along with other broad language in the Constitution) is not as sweeping as Anti-Federalists contended it was; the Preamble’s language is narrowed (but not necessarily eliminated) by the specific enumerations of powers and the more specific uses of Preamble language later in the Constitution. He had previously made a similar argument in a letter written to Robert S. Garnett:

The general terms or phrases used in the introductory propositions, and now a source of so much constructive ingenuity, were never meant to be inserted in their loose form in the text of the Constitution. Like resolutions preliminary to legal enactments it was understood by all, that they were to be reduced, by proper limitations and specifications . . . .[150]

Supporting and adding to Madison’s writings, Alexander Hamilton stressed that the Preamble does not abrogate the people’s retention of their individual rights.

[T]he people surrender nothing, and as they retain every thing, they have no need of particular reservations. “[W]e the people of the United States, to secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this constitution for the United States of America.” Here is a better recognition of popular rights than volumes of those aphorisms which make the principal figure in several of our state bills of rights, and which would sound much better in a treatise of ethics than in a constitution of government.[151]

Considering isolated discussions surrounding the Preamble that occurred during the Ratification process provides some sense of how various Founders interpreted its language. But this information does not provide any concrete answers to the legal weight carried by the Preamble. While Anti-Federalist’s clearly were concerned that the Preamble had great legal weight sufficient to expand the federal government’s size, the Federalists seemed to view the Preamble as a purpose statement, limited by the enumerated powers within the Articles of the Constitution, without legal force on its own—except, as one might additionally argue, to restrict the areas of power granted by the Constitution so as to include only the particular objectives and duties undertaken in the Preamble and no more.

In addition to the foregoing statements from national figureheads, the records of seven of the state ratifying conventions provide insights into how people at the time envisioned the Preamble being used.[152] Based on our review of the state constitutional ratification conventions, it does not appear that the Preamble was necessarily the center of debate. Its “We the people” opening aside, the details of the Preamble’s language were not contested. Rather, the Preamble was a source of various arguments with regards to (1) principles of federalism and (2) questions as to whether a bill of rights was a necessary appendage to the Constitution.

Pennsylvania. On Wednesday, November 28, 1787, the Pennsylvania Convention took up the lively topic of the Preamble.[153] James Wilson opened the debate by stressing the Preamble’s empowerment of the people. It is “the People,” that “ordain and establish” the Constitution. Because the Constitution derives its power from the people, the people explicitly have the power to amend and implicitly have the right to repeal and annul.[154] Mr. Wilson hoped that this implied power would “give ease to the minds of some, who ha[d] heard much concerning the necessity of a bill of rights.”[155]

In response to Mr. Wilson’s comments, John Smilie addressed the convention and declared the Preamble to be an inadequate substitute for an express bill of rights. Mr. Smilie contrasted the simple language of the Preamble with the grand declarations of equality and liberty permeating the Magna Charta and the Declaration of Independence.[156] To secure the people’s rights, Mr. Smilie believed a bill of rights was necessary.[157]

Robert Whitehill joined Mr. Smilie in his criticism of the Preamble, but expanded the critique and raised concerns about creating a strong, centralized government. “‘We the people of the United States’ is a sentence that evidently shows the old foundation of the Union is destroyed, the principle of confederation excluded, and a new unwieldy system of consolidated empire is set up upon the ruins of the present compact between the states.”[158] Mr. Whitehill was seriously concerned that the Preamble abolished the independence and sovereignty of the states. And if the states were going to surrender such power, a bill of rights was necessary.[159]

Connecticut. The Preamble was rarely mentioned during Connecticut’s ratification debates. One of the lone, significant mentions of the Preamble came from an anonymous letter purportedly written in reply to a letter from a New Haven correspondent.[160] The letter spoke of positively of the Preamble’s high aspirations as proper aims of government and goals that would eventually be achieved, thanks to the framework established by the Constitution.[161] It expressed confidence that the guiding purposes set forth in the Preamble would be achieved: “[B]y a wise administration under [the Constitution], it will do all that a wise and good form of government can do. It will by degrees, and in due time, answer all the purposes expressed in the Preamble . . . .”[162]

Massachusetts. The day after the convention was seated, “Samuel,” an author writing in the Independent Chronicle, echoed a concern emanating from other state ratification debates, namely that the “We the People” language of the Preamble was “expressly repugnant to the confederation.”[163] He argued that the choice to use the phrase “We the People” instead of the specific states cast the citizen’s allegiance to the federal government over their own states.[164]

The Republican Federalist, at the end of the second week, expressed similar concerns to Samuel regarding the loss of state identity. He interpreted the “We the People” language to mean: “[we] do effectually put an end in America, to governments founded in compact—do relinquish that security for life, liberty, and property, which we had in the Constitutions of these states and of the Union—do give up governments which we well understood, for a new system which we have no idea of.”[165]

In the last week of the convention, Mr. Dench went so far to argue that the Preamble would result in an “actual consolidation of the States—and that, if he was not mistaken, the moment it took place, a dissolution of the State governments will also take place.”[166] General Brooks, in response, suggested that the fears shared by Mr. Dench were ill-founded. First, “the Congress under this Constitution cannot be organized without repeated acts of the legislatures of the several states—and therefore, if the creating power is dissolved, the body to be created cannot exist.”[167] Second, “it is impossible the general government can exist, unless the governments of the several States are for ever existing, as the qualifications of the electors of federal representatives are to be the same as those to the electors of the most numerous branch of the State legislatures.”[168] Apparently satisfied both overall and that the operation of the Preamble would not threaten the existence of the states, about ten delegates decided to change their votes, and the motion to ratify finally carried on February 6, 1788, by a vote of 187 to 168.[169]

Maryland. In Baltimore, a similar frustration was expressed in the Baltimore Maryland Gazette over the revised Preamble that had emerged at the very end of the Constitutional Convention.[170] Whereas the original Preamble had listed the states individually, the revised Preamble began with “We the People.” For some, that revision threatened the very existence of state governments.[171] Nevertheless, not enough delegates saw this as a problem, and on April 28, 1788, Maryland became the seventh state to ratify the Constitution.

New Hampshire. Writing under the pen name of “Afredus,” Samuel Tenney defended the lack of a bill of rights in the Constitution in part by referring to the language of the Preamble.[172] Responding to “A Farmer,” Afredus reassured readers that the powers of the federal government are limited by the purposes of the Preamble. “To prevent any interference between the federal and state governments, the objects of the former are pointed out in the preamble to the Constitution.”[173] The Constitution’s enumerated powers exist for the “accomplishment of [the Preamble’s] purposes.”[174] And “every thing not expressly given up is retained by the states.”[175]

Virginia. Perhaps the most significant comment about the Preamble coming out of the ratification debates in Virginia, which met in June 1788, was in a publication circulated by James Monroe in which he famously called the Preamble “the key of the Constitution.”[176] When this Convention began, only eight states had ratified the Constitution, one short of the required nine.

As a moderate Anti-Federalist, Monroe published two lengthy explanations of the newly proposed Constitution in 1788.[177] Styling himself “a native of Virginia,” where individual and state rights were highly esteemed, he was concerned about granting the federal government too much power. His first pamphlet began by justifying, historically and legally, why the Constitution did not have, and should not have, a written bill of rights: In 1776, the American people needed no bill of rights “to choose the form [of government] most agreeable to themselves. . . . [S]uch [a] declaration [of rights] tends to abridge, rather than preserve their liberties.” Instead, his reasoning went on to assure: “[I]n all disputes respecting the exercise of power, the Constitution or frame of government decides. If the right is given up by the Constitution, the governors exercise it; if not, the people retain it.”[178]

In this context, Monroe proceeded to give observations about each part of “The Plan of the Federal Constitution.” For him, that plan began with and necessarily included the Preamble. After quoting it in full, Monroe commented: “The introduction, like a preamble to a law, is the key of the Constitution. Whenever federal power is exercised, contrary to the spirit breathed by this introduction, it will be unconstitutionally exercised, and ought to be resisted by the people.”[179] From his guarded perspective, Monroe saw the Preamble as vitally and substantively limiting the exercise of power by the federal government, preserving all the rights of the people not “given up” by them to the federal government. As a key, he would have understood the Preamble as properly and purposefully aligning all the pins, latches, bars, levers, and moving parts inside the lock mechanism, so that the bolt would slide open or closed, either allowing proper passage or protecting against unwarranted entry. Reassuring arguments such as these no doubt helped tip the scale in the close eighty-nine to seventy-nine vote by the Virginia Convention in favor of ratification.

New York. Speeches in the New York ratification conventions mentioned the Preamble many times. A customer of the New York Journal expressed the concern that Congress had the power to make amendments to the Constitution without requiring them to get approval of the people because of the language of the Preamble.[180]

An author of a letter published in the New York Journal believed that the “We the People” language was a mockery to the members of the several states. Citing John Locke, he wrote that “sovereignty consists in three thingsthe legislative, executive, and negotiating powers, all of which your constitution takes absolutely away from the several states.”[181] This concern was shared by many citizens of New York.[182]

Some expressed concern that the Preamble’s general purposes were overly broad and would serve to empower the federal government. Writing under the pseudonym Brutus VI, a citizen of New York wrote:

I would ask . . . to define what ideas are included under the terms, to provide for the common defence and the general welfare? Are these terms definite, and will they be understood in the same manner, and to apply to the same cases by everyone? No one will pretend they will. It will then be a matter of opinion, what tends to the general welfare; and the Congress will be the only judges in the matter.[183]

George Clinton, in advocating against ratification, summarized what many of New York’s citizens felt about the power the Preamble gave to the federal government.

The objects of this government as expressed in the preface to it, are to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty”—These include every object for which government was established amongst men . . . .[184]

In short, some citizens of New York did not see the Preamble as vacuous, but instead were concerned that the Preamble gave the federal government too much power. Notwithstanding these concerns, New York ratified the Constitution on July 26, 1788.

Rhode Island. On May 29, 1790, Rhode Island became the last state to ratify. Debates were carried on in newspapers as well as in meetings. On March 3, 1790, General Joseph Stanton raised the issue of slavery and argued that the practice was incompatible with the noble aims of the Preamble. He could not “but observe what a Beautiful Introduction the Constitution commences with.”[185] In light of that language, “Why in the Name of Common [Sense] should not this Liberty [spoken of in the Preamble] be extended to the Africans?”[186] Others were less convinced that the Preamble compelled abolition of slavery. As Mr. G. Hazard stated, “[i]f we totally abolish Slavery it will Ruin many persons.”[187] Given society’s current structures, it was not “possible to effect the Full Abolition of Slavery.”[188] Yet no one argued that the Preamble’s praiseworthy aims were compatible with slavery.

In the Newport Herald, A. Freeman explained why the Preamble was a necessary part of the Constitution. The years leading up to the Constitutional Convention were marked by “confusion and disorder . . . in several States” marred by “jealousy and suspicion” and lacking unanimity.[189] “[T]his feebleness and incompetency” attributed to the “great and rapid decline of trade and commerce, and those consequential distresses which are deeply felt throughout the United States.”[190] In light of this “melancholy situation,” it was the duty of the state legislatures to frame a “government calculated with the express design[s]” mentioned in the Preamble.[191] For Mr. Freeman, the Preamble—fraught with . . . benevolent and noble ideas”—provided reassurance that the union could succeed.[192]

Though the ratification debates do not reveal exactly what meaning early Americans assigned the Preamble, one things is clear: everyone presumed that whatever the Preamble was deemed to mean, it meant something significant. The Anti-Federalists could only have viewed the Preamble as a threat if they, and all others, saw it as functioning in some way to define the powers granted under the Constitution more broadly than those powers would otherwise have been understood. And no one answering the concerns of the Anti-Federalists ever suggested that the Preamble was not a threat because it was not a part of the Constitution, or that it bestowed no power, or that it could serve no purpose other than to resolve patent ambiguities. The Federalists and Anti-Federalists debated the Preamble not because it was meaningless, but precisely because it was a relevant and key part of the Constitution.

Thus, as the nation approached the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Constitution had been ratified and was functioning. It had enjoyed George Washington’s illustrious presidency, and it had proudly resisted the extremisms that had led France into the Reign of Terror and had ushered in Napoleon to the throne. But serious challenges still stood ahead for the Constitution in the nineteenth century, including its near collapse in the Civil War (1861–1865). Through all these decades, the Preamble was regarded by federal courts and political actors as a source of strength, purpose, and legal guidance.

H.  The Preamble and the Ninth and Tenth Amendments

Very little has been said regarding the relationship between the Preamble and the Ninth and Tenth Amendments (ratified in 1791). But the concerns giving rise to these Amendments were already raised in the ratification debates.[193] Under the Ninth Amendment, “the enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights,” is not to be “construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people,”[194] as Monroe had worried that any bill of rights would tend to do. In other words, the Ninth Amendment seeks to protect rights of the people from being narrowed by the specific enumeration of certain rights in the Constitution. That protected breadth should be potentially discoverable in several places: natural rights; state constitutions; state laws; or anywhere else, including the words of the Preamble. The federal government may choose to recognize or respect those rights, but may not deny or disparage them, even if they are not mentioned in connection with the enumeration of powers granted under the Articles of the Constitution.

In the Tenth Amendment, “[t]he powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.”[195] This language tracks Monroe’s assurance that the spirit breathed by the Preamble would respect the reservation of undelegated powers. Conspicuously in this regard, the Articles of Confederation had provided that each state retained “every power, jurisdiction, and right, which is not by this Confederation expressly delegated to the United States.”[196] Without the word “expressly,” the Tenth Amendment allows that there may be implied powers—powers not expressly delegated—that have not been reserved exclusively to the states or the people.[197] Thus, as Justice Story argued in 1833, by removing the word “expressly” from this reservation clause, the Tenth Amendment apparently intended to leave room for implied powers:

The attempts, then, which have been made from time to time, to force upon this language [of the Tenth Amendment] an abridging, or restrictive influence [on the powers delegated to the federal government] are utterly unfounded. . . . Stripped of the ingenious disguises in which they are clothed, they are neither more nor less, than attempts to foist into the text the word expressly, to qualify what is general, and obscure what is clear, and defined.[198]

When this amendment was debated before Congress,

it was remarked, that it is impossible to confine a government to the exercise of express powers. There must necessarily be admitted powers by implication, unless the Constitution descended to the most minute details. . . . [I]t could not have been the intention of the framers of this amendment to give it effect as an abridgment of any of the powers granted under the Constitution, whether they are express or implied, direct or incidental.[199]

Not only does this reading make the Tenth Amendment more than a mere tautology—that which is delegated is delegated—but it also allows more breathing room for the Preamble in constitutional theory. Things may always be implied from the enumerated powers themselves, as may be reasonable, necessary, and proper. But, a fortiori, why should necessary incidental powers and reasonably defining purposes not be implied, just as well, from the words of the Preamble?

In addition, the Preamble (as a part of the Constitution) can also be said to have delegated to the United States as a whole—and not just to one of its branches—certain powers, objectives and purposes. In assigning or delegating the accomplishment of those six purposes, the Preamble is directly a part of what the Tenth Amendment had in mind. Might it then also be said that the Preamble, by not including other things in its six “in order to” phrases, actually speaks—by being silently omitted—to the identification of which powers and purposes “are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people,” namely any that go beyond the six explicitly stated?

This reading gives the Tenth Amendment more meaning and content than simply stating the obvious. The Tenth Amendment (being the last of the original Bill of Rights) can thus be understood as referring back to the entire Constitution, to the very beginning of its whole plan and frame. With the Preamble at least partially in mind, the Tenth Amendment protectively says, in effect, that any other general purposes not so named and thus delegated to the federal government by the Preamble are reserved to the states or are left to “We the People.” The Preamble, together with the Ninth and Tenth Amendments, strikes a unifying balance, neither giving too much power to the federal government nor redirecting too much power back to the people.[200] Connor Ewing has so argued, likewise seeing the Preamble as plausibly serving as a “level-one” constraint on the Tenth Amendment: “An argument to this effect would hold that the Preamble articulates the ends for which the national government was established and, as such, should guide the interpretation of national powers vis-à-vis state powers,”[201] not necessarily as distinct sovereignties but as a union in which the states and the federal government are integral and vital parts of either other.[202]

I.  Corpus Linguistics of Early American English in the Preamble

To understand the Preamble historically, it is essential to investigate the original meanings and uses attached to its words in everyday language. What role historical linguistic analysis should play today regarding the interpretation of the Constitution’s provisions is currently debated, but modern judges and lawmakers cannot know how far they have departed or deviated, for better or worse, from the original meanings and purposes of the Constitution until they know as much as possible about the breadth or specificity of the Framers’ intentions to begin with.

Even among originalist scholars, there is a disagreement about the appropriate methodology and theoretical framework that should be employed to discover the meaning of the Constitution. “Original intentions” originalists look to the Founding Fathers, believing that the meaning of the text is “fixed by the intentions of the framers of the text.”[203] These scholars view statements and commentaries about the Constitution by people such as George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and James Madison―found in sources such as the Federalist Papers and the minutes of the Constitutional Convention―as authoritative. By contrast, “New Originalists” give priority to the original public meaning of the text, which was “necessarily determined in large part by the conventional semantic meanings of the words and phrases that make up the text and the regularities of usage that are sometimes summarized as rules of grammar and syntax,” over the views of any particular Founder.[204] John McGinnis and Mike Rappaport have also advanced a variation of this approach known as “original methods” originalism, arguing that, as a legal document, the Constitution was written in the “dialect” of eighteenth-century law. In this view, meanings should only be interpreted using the canons of construction typically employed by judges and legal practitioners of the time period.[205]

Each of these originalist methodologies necessarily rely on what Larry Solum calls the “fixation thesis”―the assumption that “the communicative content of the constitutional text was fixed at the time each provision was framed and ratified.”[206] As such, each assumes that “[a]ny attempt to give legal meaning to the words of the [Constitution] begins with the linguistic meaning. . . . If the communicative content of the law is clear we give that content controlling legal significance.”[207] But the would-be interpreter faces a conundrum: the English language has changed over time. How are modern outsiders unfamiliar with many aspects of eighteenth-century English to discover original linguistic meanings?

“This is the problem of linguistic drift―the notion that language usage and meaning shifts over time.”[208] Sometimes these changes can be quite dramatic and occur for no apparent reason.[209] Consider the following (possibly apocryphal) account of the rebuilding of St. Paul’s Cathedral in 1675, taken from a linguistics column published during the early twentieth century:

When architects’ drawings for the rebuilding of St. Paul’s Cathedral after the fire were submitted, Sir Christopher Wren was told that his design had been chosen because it was “at the same time the most awful and the most artificial.” A modern architect would hardly think such a verdict complimentary. Far from being disparagement, it was the highest praise. “Awful” correctly meant inspiring awe, and “artificial” designed with art.[210]

Such shifts can―and have―occur with words and phrases contained in the Constitution. For example, Article IV, Section 4 states that “[t]he United States . . . shall protect each of [the states] . . . against domestic violence.”[211] At the time of the founding, “domestic violence” referred to local civil unrest and public upheaval rather than the abuse of one’s spouse or children as it does today.[212] Not all such shifts are as obvious to the modern reader. For example, while the Supreme Court has limited the phrase “Officers of the United States” in Article II, Section 2 to only those “appointees who wield ‘significant authority,’” it is likely that in “the Founding era, the term ‘officer’ commonly was understood to encompass any individual who had ongoing responsibility for a government duty.”[213]

Because the emerging field of corpus linguistics can help mitigate the problems associated with linguistic drift, this Section will briefly describe the science of corpus linguistics and set out parameters that make it useful in understanding the Preamble for present purposes. A “corpus” is a vast electronic collection of texts that provides searchable, representative samples of speech and writing patterns within a particular community during a particular period of time. These texts are said to occur “naturally” because they “were not elicited for the purpose of study. . . . Instead the architect of the corpus assembles her collection of speech and writing samples after the fact, from newspapers, books, transcripts of conversations, or interviews, etc.”[214]

These electronic databases (or “corpora”) can be searched the same way one might use Google or Westlaw, producing contextualized examples of real-world uses―called concordance lines―of any word or phrase that appears in the corpus. By analyzing these concordance lines,[215] the user can generate an empirical snapshot of how the queried term was actually used during the time period in question.

Over the last few years, some judges have cautiously begun applying corpus linguistic tools and techniques to issues of statutory interpretation. For example, in 2011 Justice Ginsburg cited corpus data (provided to the Court in an amicus brief submitted by the Project on Government Oversight) during oral arguments for FCC v. AT&T, Inc.[216] The case boiled down to whether the word “personal” as used in the Freedom of Information Act was “merely the ‘adjectival form’ of the noun person” so that the phrase “personal privacy” encompassed corporate privacy.[217] While the opinion did not cite corpus linguistics directly, its reasoning largely tracked the amicus brief, which did.[218] The following year, Judge Posner used Google to perform a corpus-like analysis to discern the ordinary meaning of the word “harbor” as used in 8 U.S.C. § 1324(a).[219] Although his methodology was flawed, his desire to seek empirical data to inform his ordinary meaning analysis mirrored the concerns raised by law and corpus linguistics advocates.[220]

Justice Thomas Rex Lee of the Utah Supreme Court became the first judge in the country to actually use corpus linguistics in an opinion.[221] Since then, a number of other state supreme court justices have followed suit.[222] But all of these cases concerned the interpretation of modern statutes. They therefore relied on corpora built from modern source material that would be unhelpful for constitutional analysis.

Until recently, no nineteenth-century American English corpus existed. In late 2017, Brigham Young University (“BYU”) J. Reuben Clark Law School launched a beta version of the Corpus of Founding Era American English (“COFEA”). COFEA currently contains approximately 150 million words. The texts were mined from the Evans Early American Imprint Series (featuring books, pamphlets, and broadsides covering a broad array of subjects), Hein Online’s Legal Database, and the papers and correspondence of George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and Alexander Hamilton, as contained in the National Archives Founders Online Project.[223] Future versions of COFEA will broaden the scope of text to include sources such as colonial newspapers, the Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, and the Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution.

While COFEA is not perfect,[224] it provides an invaluable starting point for any inquiry into the communicative content of constitutional terminology.[225] Below, we will use it to investigate the original linguistic meaning of four key phrases in the Preamble, both before and after ratification. In doing so, we do not endorse any particular method of constitutional interpretation. We recognize that non-originalists may find such data irrelevant. But if, as James Monroe argued, the preamble “is the key of the Constitution,” and thus federal power exercised “contrary to the spirit breathed by this introduction” is unconstitutional, scholars must have some starting-point from which to discuss responsibly its meaning. In that spirit and as a first step in that direction, we will focus here on the phrases “domestic tranquility,” “common defence,” “general welfare,” and “blessings of liberty.”

We have bifurcated the analysis of each of these terms into two time-periods. The first spans from 1754 to 1786from the start of the French and the Indian War to the year before the Constitution was created. These dates were chosen to provide a snapshot of usage among the colonists once they began to consider themselves “Americans” in an independent political sense, but before the phrases were impacted by the ratification debates. The second time period spans from 1787, the year the Constitution was written, to 1807, the end of the corpus.[226]

1.  Domestic Tranquility

“Domestic tranquility” appears in the corpus only five times prior to 1787. Three of the concordance lines, or 60% of the sample, use the phrase in a way that clearly refers to the private comforts of an individual’s home, as in quote (1) below. Two of these three hits are in public orations, lauding General George Washington at the time of his (first) retirement from public service, as in quote (2) below. The remaining concordance lines, or 40%, refer to an absence of civil unrest, as in quote (3) below.

(1) A yeomanry like the American . . . are but ill prepared to support the fatigues, dangers and wants of long campaigns; they would soo[n] miss those solaces which domestic tranquility afforded them, and would revert to their pristine avocations and delights.[227]

(2) In your Retirement to the peaceful and pleasing Scenes of domestic Tranquility may America long experience the benign Influence of your Example and benefit by the salutary Suggestions of your Wisdom[.][228]

(3) . . . character is disclosed in the warm affections of whole countries to each other―affections which, it is devoutly to be wished, a just sense of social happiness and national safety may long continue to cherish and preserve, as the most certain means to secure domestic tranquility and foreign respect.[229]

The phrase was used more frequently after 1787, appearing in the corpus sixteen times. That said, just under half of all of these instances were direct quotations of the Preamble itself, as in John Adam’s 1797 inaugural address shown in quote (4) below.

(4) [T]he People of America, were not abandoned, by their usual good Sense, presence of Mind, resolution or integrity.―Measures were pursued to concern a Plan, to form a more perfect Union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and Secure the blessings of Liberty.[230]

The nine remaining concordance lines are split equally between the private and public senses described above, with the personal benefits of private life being slightly more common. That said, it would be unwise to adopt the “frequency thesis” that corpus skeptics falsely assume corpus linguists advocate for,[231] and assume that the sense that appears most commonly in the corpus data is automatically the ordinary meaning of the phrase, especially when, as here, there are two or more competing senses that are both well-attested to. Contextual information must be taken into consideration. Here, it seems logical to interpret the Preamble’s reference to domestic tranquility alongside the “domestic violence” clause in Article IV and conclude that it refers to public peace.

2.  Common Defence

During the pre-Constitution era, the phrase “Common Defense”―or as it was more commonly spelled during that time period “Common Defence”―appeared in the corpus ninety times. Just under 9% of these hits were quoting all or part of Article VIII of the Articles of Confederation, which reads, “[a]ll charges of war, and all other expences that shall be incurred for the common defence or general welfare, and allowed by the United States in Congress assembled, shall be defrayed out of a common treasury . . . ,” and an additional three hits referenced Article VII of the same document: “[w]hen land forces are raised by any State for the common defense, all officers of or under the rank of colonel, shall be appointed by the legislature of each State respectively . . . .”[232]

More helpful are the concordance lines drawn from documents not referencing federal charters, but instead using the phrase “common defence” in everyday discourse. By far, the term was most frequently used to describe the military obligation of individual polities within a broader alliance or confederation to mutually defend one another, as in quote (5) below. This sense appears in nearly two-thirds―65.55% to be exact―of all the concordance lines.

(5) The Canaanites were destroyed by reason they were petty Monarchies, that had no union, no confederacy for their common defence.[233]

The phrase appears to have been a British idiom used to describe a colony or province’s duty to furnish troops and pay for its fair share of the military expenditures to defend the British Empire at large. The House of Commons’ examination of Benjamin Franklin in 1760 epitomizes this usage, as shown in quote (6).

(6) Q: Did you never hear that Maryland, during the last war, had refused to furnish a quota towards the common defence?

A: Maryland has been much misrepresented in that matter. Maryland, to my knowledge, never refused to contribute, or grant aids to the Crown. The assemblies every year, during the war, voted considerable sums, and formed bills to raise them.[234]

Use of this idiom in the colonies surged in 1775, but a careful examination of these concordance lines reveals that they are almost all quoting (and responding to) Lord North’s Conciliatory Proposal which reads:

[W]hen the Governor, Council, and Assembly, or General Court of any of his Majesty’s Provinces, or Colonies in America, shall propose to make provision, according to the condition, circumstance, or situation of such Province or Colony, for contributing their proportion to the common defence . . . it will be proper if such proposal shall be approved by his Majesty and the two Houses of Parliament;[235]

Once the revolution began, however, the term is used in this sense almost exclusively to describe efforts of the individual states to work and fight in tandem against the British, as in quote (7).

(7) What spirit, short of an heavenly enthusiasm, could have animated these infant colonies, boldly to renounce the arbitrary mandates of a British parliament, and instead of fawning like suppliants, to arm themselves for their common defence?[236]

The second most frequent sense of the term “common defence”―comprising about 15% of all concordance lines―references the duties of individuals to defend the polity, as in quote (8). This nomenclature appears in state analogues to the Second Amendment, as in quote (9)

(8) The first and great principle of all government, and of all society, is, that support is due in return for protection; that every subject should contribute to the common defence in which his own is included.[237]

(9) The people have a right to keep and to bear arms for the common defence.[238]

Clearly, these two senses―the polity’s duty to the confederation and the individual’s duty to the polity―overlap considerably.[239] Both use the word “common” as a synonym for the collective. In fact, COFEA produced only one concordance line, quote (10), which used “common defence” in a way that implied “ordinary defence.”

(10) In civilized nations, and where civil government hath been established, many cities and places of importance may be found without walls, without guards, and even without weapons or any preparations for common defence.[240]

Post-1787, the landscape gets a little more complex. “Common defence”[241] appears in the corpus 109 times during this time period. A plurality of those 109 instances―about 42% of the total―are directly quoting the new federal Constitution. Nearly two-thirds (28%) of these quotations are to Section VIII of Article I: “The Congress shall have Power to lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States.”[242] The remaining third (14%) quote the Preamble. For obvious reasons, quotations of the Articles of Confederation almost completely disappear, appearing just three times.

As during the pre-Constitutional era, “common defence” most frequently referred to the shared military operations of two or more allied political entities, as in quote (11). This sense appeared in 30% of concordance lines overall, and in about 57% of those that did not specifically quote either the Constitution or Articles of Confederation. While almost all of these were references to the States’ united military efforts, as in (12), it was occasionally used metaphorically, as in (13).

(11) Two monarchies may form an alliance on a like principle, their common defence against a powerful neighbouring republic.[243]

(12) [The States] had the sole exclusive right of governing themselves, in such manner as they should choose, not repugnant to the resolves of Congress; and that they were ready to contribute their proportion to the common defence.[244]

(13) They likewise demonstrate that from causes which are natural, the several branches [of government], instead of forming a perfect check upon each other . . . are to a certain degree impelled in a contrary direction, and forced together, into a constrained and politic harmony, for common defence.[245]

The individualistic sense of “common defense”―that is the citizen’s duty to defend the polity―was used far less frequently than it was before 1787, appearing in just 8% of the concordance lines. One of these, quote (14), was a provision in the constitution of the new state of Tennessee, which mirrored the language of the Massachusetts Constitution quoted above. There were no examples of “common defence” being used to describe “ordinary defence.”

(14) That the freemen of this State have a right to keep and to bear arms for their common defence.[246]

It is worth noting that 37% of all of the hits generated by COFEA were authored or co-authored by Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton had a more expansive view of the federal government than many of his contemporaries. While this is more apparent in the debates about the “general welfare” clause discussed below, it can be seen occasionally in his thoughts about the phrase “common defense.” For example, he argued that the phrase common defence “implies a power of war offensive & defence,”[247] which requires “[m]oney for domestic Police and the civil Government.”[248] The weight given to these statements largely depends on one’s theoretical framework for constitutional interpretation. Because Hamilton was both a signer of the Constitution and the principal author of the Federalist Papers, original intentions originalists may give more credence to these statements than those interested in the original public meaning, who may view the Secretary’s comments as an aberration from the more widely accepted meaning.

3.  General Welfare

The term “general welfare” is coupled with “common defence” in both the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution, Article I, Section VIII, clause 1. In fact, the terms co-occur in COFEA 24.1% of the time that either appears individually,[249] with the terms occurring right next to each other 15.1% of the time and “common defence” almost always being listed first.[250] This suggests that the terms may have become what linguists refer to as a “linguistic multinomial”―terms that occur together in the same context so frequently that they begin to be thought of as a single concept.[251]

Prior to 1787, the phrase “general welfare” appears in COFEA forty times. Four of these instances, or 10%, are references to the same provision of the Articles of Confederation mentioned above: “All charges of war, and all other expences that shall be incurred for the common defence or general welfare, and allowed by the United States in Congress assembled . . . shall be defrayed out of a common treasury.” Another 7.5% quote Benjamin Franklin’s 1775 draft of the Articles of Confederation:

The said united colonies hereby severally enter into a firm league of friendship with each other binding on themselves and their posterity for their common defence against their enemies for the security of their liberties and properties, the safety of their persons and families and their mutual and general welfare.[252]

Franklin’s 1754 Plan of Union―along with his personal commentary―also appears in the corpus, as seen in quote (15).

(15) The power proposed to be given by the plan to the grand council is only a concentration of the powers of the several assemblies in certain points for the general welfare.[253]

Almost all of the remaining concordance lines―87.5% to be precise―use the phrase “general welfare” to refer to the wellbeing of some mass-noun, whether it be a country, army, society, or family, as in quote (16). Nearly a third of these instances reference the general welfare of the whole British Empire, inclusive of the colonies, as in quote (17).

(16) I do not see that he can be spared from that Station without great Detriment to our Affairs and to the general Welfare of America.[254]

(17) But the latter have frequent Communications, for the purpose of dropping their private Misunderstandings, and uniting in the public Cause, which at present needs all their joint Assistance, since a Breach with America . . . may be ruinous to the general Welfare of the British Empire.[255]

Interestingly, before 1787 no examples used the phrase “general welfare” to refer to the well-being of individuals, or even the well-being of individuals within a larger group, as we often imagine it today. In this respect, it appears that “general,” like “common,” was used in a collective rather than generic sense. Ten percent of the concordance lines had too little contextual information to code.

After 1787, use of the phrase becomes far less uniform, becoming something of a linguistic black hole. Of the 100 concordance lines generated in the corpus, three quote the Articles of Confederation. Another clearly argues that the term should be construed the same under the Constitution as it was under the old charter. In addition, 27% of the concordance lines quote or paraphrase the Constitution. Fifty-six percent of these (15% of the total) cite the Preamble, while the remainder quote Article I.

In many cases, the phrase seems to have maintained its collective connotations. For example, 23% of the time it clearly refers to the well-being of a mass-noun, usually the “country” or “nation” as a whole, as in quote (18). Nearly half of these carefully distinguish the “general welfare” from the private or parochial interests of those holding office, as in quote (19).

(18) [A]n energetic Government, must doubtless stimulate the Genius of every Citizen to exert those means, by which not only his own Interests will be increas’d, but at the same time will be secur’d with the general welfare [and] Strength of his Country.[256]

(19) As it respects myself, I have no object separated from the general welfare to promote. I have no predilections, no prejudices to gratify, no friends, whose interests or views I wish to advance at the expence of propriety[.][257]

But in some contexts, “general welfare” comes to mean almost the exact opposite after 1787―the well-being not of the whole, but of the individuals or subunits that make up the whole. For example, one source discusses the cities of Richmond and Philadelphia entering into an agreement to speed up the delivery of mail between them for their “general welfare.” This sense is especially common when “the people” are discussed, as in quote (20).

(20) [I]t was expressly assumed that the general government has a right to exercise all powers which may be for the general welfare, that is to say, all the legitimate powers of government: since no government has a legitimate right to do what is not for the welfare of the governed.[258]

This shift may have its origins in the language of the Preamble. Unlike the Articles of Confederation in which the states were the actors, the Constitution was written and ratified by “We the People.” If the “blessings of liberty” flow to “ourselves” as individuals, why shouldn’t the general welfare be concerned with “us” too?

This was definitely a minority understanding, representing a little more than 5% of all of the concordance lines. The exact number is hard to pin down because some of the examples could cut either way, depending on how one interprets the use of the first-person plural, as in quote (20). If it is simply the royal-we, it could still refer to the welfare of the collective body. If not, it refers to the well-being of society’s individuals.

(21) That interests of primary importance to our general welfare are promoted by [Jay’s Treaty].[259]

The concordance lines reveal an even greater disagreement about the meaning of the general welfare clause―how wide was its scope? As with “common defence,” Hamilton was at the forefront of the debate, arguing that it bestowed nearly limitless power on the federal government. Among other things, he and his followers argued that the phrase was “as comprehensive as any that could have been used” and extended to all cases”―whatever concerns the general interests of learning, of agriculture, of manufactures, and of commerce, are within the sphere.”[260] These arguments were specifically designed to justify the creation of the controversial Bank of the United States.

In opposition to Hamilton were the Madisonians, who argued that Article I did not bestow a general power to legislate for the general welfare, but was limited to only those specific powers enumerated in the Constitution, as in quote (22), they argued that this “true and fair construction” was too “obvious to be mistaken.”

(22) No argument could be drawn from the terms “common defence, and general welfare.” The power as to these general purposes, was limited to acts laying taxes for them; and the general purposes themselves were limited and explained by the particular enumeration subjoined.[261]

This debate continues to this day and demonstrates some of the limitations of corpus linguistics. COFEA is not a silver bullet for every interpretive problem. Sometimes opaque constitutional provisions will remain vague or ambiguous even when subjected to empirical analytics. In such instances, judicial construction may still be necessary to operationalize the passage. But, while COFEA cannot answer every question about the original or intended meaning of the phrase “general welfare,” it can limit the range of possibilities. Given both its close association with “common defence” and its typical usage, it seems clear that like the word “common,” the word “general” referred to the collective. Thus, whatever the extent of Congress’s power to legislate pursuant to this clause may have been, it was to be directed at the well-being of the United States as an entity, rather than for individuals or states.

4.  Blessings of Liberty

Unlike “common defence” and “general welfare,” the phrase “blessings of liberty” was not borrowed from the Articles of Confederation. Nevertheless, the phrase still appears in the corpus thirty-one times before 1787. Of these, only four actually enumerate specifics. For David Brooks, the blessings of liberty were simply “safety and [p]eace.”[262] Phillip Payson’s description was a bit more grandiose, even if somewhat opaque―“to be freed from the jaws of tyranny, to live in freedom ourselves, and leave our posterity after us free.”[263] Pamphleteer Silas Downer listed, “[r]eligion, learning, arts, and industry”[264] as blessings of liberty, while Benjamin Rush, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, even credited liberty for eradicating disease.[265]

The meaning of the word “liberty” in this phrase varies between concordance lines. Most frequently, it refers to freedom from tyranny or oppression, as in quote (23). This constitutes 35% of all examples contained in COFEA. Interestingly enough, 63% of the time liberty is used in this context, it is coupled with metaphorical language evoking slavery, oppression, or bondage, as in (24).

(23) You have hitherto risen superior to a thousand difficulties, in giving freedom to a great and oppressed people. . . . Proceed therefore, and let the footsteps of victory open a way for blessings of liberty, and the happiness of well-ordered government, to visit that extensive dominion.[266]

(24) They have perswaded [sic] themselves, they have even dared to say, that the Canadians were not capable of distinguishing between the Blessings of Liberty and the Wretchedness of Slavery.[267]

A quarter of the time, “liberty” refers to the accumulated freedoms, personal rights and civic duties, passed from one generation on to another, as a product of living in a democratic society, as in quote (25). In addition, there were two examples of “liberty” meaning freedom from restraint or slavery, as in quote (26). The remaining concordance lines were too ambiguous to code.

(25) Upon this plan, and with these principles, we set out, and intend to proceed, that the present (if not too far degenerated) and future generations may enjoy undiminished all the blessings of liberty.[268]

(26) Shall we ever wish to change Countries; to change conditions with the Africans and the Laplanders for sure it were better never to have known the blessings of Liberty than to have enjoyed it, and then to have it ravished from us.[269]

Post-1787, the phrase becomes more popular, appearing in the corpus eighty-two times. Unsurprisingly, more than a third of these―about 37%―are quoting the Preamble of the Constitution directly. Like with the pre-Constitutional era, the concordance lines are light on specific “blessings.” Samuel Rockwell provides the only examples in this concordance line: “Your Independence, your Rights and Liberties, [and] your Government.”[270] Whether this is what other writers had in mind is anybody’s guess.

Unlike during the pre-Constitutional era, the inherited rights sense of the word “liberty” predominated during this time period, appearing in just under a fifth of all concordance lines, followed by freedom from tyranny at 15%. A smaller percentage of concordance lines used liberty to describe freedom from slavery, but the ones that did were more overt, as in quote (27).

(27) Seven more were now added to our number to . . . partake with us the horrors of unspeakable slavery, and bemoan the loss of the blessing of liberty, dragging out the unwelcome existence of a slave, on Barbary’s hostile coast, and to be persecuted by the hands of merciless Mahometans.[271]

There were also three times the word liberty was used in reference to a nation’s freedom from foreign control, as in quote (28), and two instances of the word specifically referring to religious liberty, as in quote (29).

(28) [George Washington] continued as commander in chief till Dec. 23, 1783; when having by acts of the greatest wisdom and fortitude, vanquished the enemies of his country and thus procured for it the blessings of liberty and independence, he delivered his commission to the President of Congress at Anapolis.[272]

(29) I would farther direct you to remember, that though the Revolution was a great work, it was by no means a perfect work; and that all was not then gained which was necessary to put the kingdom in the secure and complete possession of the blessings of liberty.—In particular, you should recollect, that the toleration then obtained was imperfect. It included only those who could declare their faith in the doctrinal articles of the church of England.[273]

From this data, it is difficult to peg down any particular “blessing” of liberty the Founders may have had in mind, but the reference that the blessings were to be secured for the Founding generation’s “posterity” as well suggest that the term should be understood through the “inherited rights and duties” lens.

The analysis in this section is not intended to be exhaustive, but rather to provide a foundation upon which future scholarship and judicial opinions can build. Future scholarsespecially those partial to Fourteenth Amendment Originalismmay wish to use corpus linguistics to chart how the meaning of these terms changed during the Antebellum period. Living constitutionalists may be interested in using corpus linguistics to identify how the terms are used today. We chose to focus on the founding era because we believe that any discussion of what these terms should mean must by necessity begin with an analysis of what they did mean.

J.  Early Supreme Court Decisions Citing the Preamble

Although the Preamble played a limited role in the Supreme Court’s early jurisprudencewhen the Court cautioned against using the Preamble to find explicit powersthe Preamble certainly influenced the Court’s understanding of the Constitution’s enumerated powers, and it played a role in shaping the contours of federalism. Sometimes, the Preamble was merely mentioned as a passing aside, but the Preamble was also used to help in the tough task of interpretation. The following paragraphs review the five main cases in which the Court relied on the Preamble as a guide in its decision making.

One of the earliest significant opinions of the Court, Chisholm v. Georgia, sparked a constitutional debate that eventually culminated in the ratification of the Eleventh Amendment in 1798.[274] Alexander Chisholm, the executor of Robert Farquhar’s estate, attempted to sue the state of Georgia, seeking payments for goods supplied by Mr. Farquhar—a South Carolinian—to the state of Georgia during the Revolutionary War.[275] The state of Georgia claimed sovereign immunity and the Circuit Court at Augusta decided that Georgia could not be sued by a citizen of another state.[276] The case was appealed to the Supreme Court, which ultimately determined that federal courts have the power to hear cases in which a state was sued by a private citizen of another state.[277] The Court first stressed that the plain text of Article III, Section 2, clause 1 of the Constitution grants federal courts jurisdiction to hear cases between “a State and Citizens of another State.”[278] Having “the advantage of the letter on [its] side,” the Court proceeded to consider the broad purposes and other wordings in the Constitution to see if there was support or limitation to be found for its ruling.[279]

After reviewing the general history of the Constitution,[280] the Court focused on two parts of the Preamble. First, the phrase “We the People” revealed that the people were “acting as sovereigns of the whole country; and in the language of sovereignty, establishing a Constitution by which it was their will, that the State Governments should be bound, and to which the State Constitutions should be made to conform.”[281] Second, the Court relied on the phrase “establish justice” to support the exercise of federal jurisdiction in this case:

[W]hen we view th[e] object [of establishing justice] in conjunction with the declaration, ‘that no State shall pass a law impairing the obligation of contracts; we shall probably think, that this object points, in a particular manner, to the jurisdiction of the Court over the several States. What good purpose could this Constitutional provision secure, if a State might pass a law impairing the obligation of its own contracts; and be amenable, for such a violation of right, to no controuling [sic] judiciary power?[282]

From the Court’s perspective, the Preamble authorized a broad understanding of Article III which empowered federal courts to regulate the sovereignty of the states to the benefit of the people.

This early understanding and use of the Preamble spilled over into the Marshall Court. Here again, the phrase “We the People” played an important role. Beginning with Martin v. Hunter’s Lessee, the Preamble was used by the Supreme Court to support conclusions that the federal government was designed to have power to review actions of the states and their governments.[283] In this case, the Court was asked to review a constitutional challenge to Section 25 of the Judiciary Act of 1789, which gave the Supreme Court power to review decisions of the states’ highest appellate courts.[284] Justice Story, writing for the Court, stated:

The constitution of the United States was ordained and established, not by the states in their sovereign capacities, but emphatically, as the preamble of the constitution declares, by ‘the people of the United States.’ There can be no doubt that it was competent to the people to invest the general government with all the powers which they might deem proper and necessary; to extend or restrain these powers according to their own good pleasure, and to give them a paramount and supreme authority.[285]

In other words, because the Constitution was established by “the People” and not the states, granting the federal government power over the states was wholly consistent with the Constitution.

This application of the Preamble was used again in 1830 in Craig v. Missouri.[286] The State of Missouri had passed a statute allowing for the issuance of paper money to debt-burdened farmers as a loan. Hiram Craig, the beneficiary of such a loan, was unable to make his payments and defaulted. In the suit that followed, the Supreme Court of Missouri determined that Craig must fulfill his debt obligations. The Supreme Court reversed, holding that the loan-certificate statute was in violation of Article I, Section X of the Constitution.[287] Before reaching this conclusion, Justice Marshall resolved that the Court had jurisdiction to review the decision of the Missouri Supreme Court. Quoting Hunter’s Lessee, Justice Marshall stated, “‘[T]he constitution of the United States was ordained and established,’ not by the United States in their sovereign capacities; but, as the preamble declares, ‘by the people of the United States.’”[288] It was therefore appropriate for the people to confer upon the Court jurisdiction to review decisions of state appellate courts.

Along similar lines, Chief Justice Marshall stated in Cohens v. Virginia that the Preamble supported the conclusion that the Court has jurisdiction to review the decision of a state’s highest court interpreting a matter of federal law.[289]

The framers . . . were convened for the purpose of strengthening the confederation by enlarging the powers of the government, and by giving efficacy to those which it before possessed, but could not exercise. They inform us themselves, in the instrument they presented to the American public, that one of its objects was to form a more perfect union. Under such circumstances, we certainly should not expect to find, in that instrument, a diminution of the powers of the actual government.[290]

To “form a more perfect union,” the Framers recognized the need for a central government that could review the decisions of state courts, particularly with regards to questions of national law.

Chief Justice Marshall also used the Preamble to promote the power of the states. In Barron v. Baltimore, private citizens of Baltimore sued the mayor, claiming the city owed them for an uncompensated taking.[291] The Court held that the Bill of Rights—including the Fifth Amendment—only applied to the federal government.[292]

The constitution was ordained and established by the people of the United States for themselves, for their own government, and not for the government of the individual states. Each state established a constitution for itself, and in that constitution, provided such limitations and restrictions on the powers of its particular government, as its judgment dictated. . . . The powers [the people] conferred on [the federal] government were to be exercised by itself; and the limitations on power, if expressed in general terms, are naturally, and, we think, necessarily, applicable to the government created by the instrument. They are limitations of power granted in the instrument itself; not of distinct governments, framed by different persons and for different purposes.[293]

Thus, the Preamble’s opening phrase—“We the People”—played an important role in defining the boundaries of federalism, both in some ways enhancing and in other ways restraining the power of the federal government.

K.  Use of the Preamble by Political Actors in the Nineteenth Century

The Supreme Court was far from the only body discussing the role of the Preamble in constitutional law. Nineteenth century legal writers and political actors helped shape the Preamble’s meaning in constitutional law. Their thoughts shed important light on the early understanding and intended scope of the Preamble. As a rule, all people at this time assumed the correctness of James Monroe’s characterization of the Preamble as the key of the Constitution. For example, in the 1820s, William Rawle published his influential book, A View of the Constitution. He spoke of the Preamble as a “distinct exposition of principles” which reveals the motives and intentions that guide readers “in the construction of the instrument,” which reading, he insisted, “can only mean the ascertaining the true meaning of an instrument,” stressing the importance of deducing the meaning of each provision in the Constitution by taking cognizance of “its known intention and its entire text, and to give effect, if possible, to every part of it, consistently with the unity, and harmony of the whole.”[294] Rawle’s view prevailed throughout the nineteenth century, that the proper interpretation of any part of the Constitution requires references to the Preamble and the document as a whole.

1.  The 1830 Debate on the Nature of the Constitution

In January of 1830, one year into the presidency of Andrew Jackson, a prolonged debate erupted in the United States Senate, first between two Senators, Daniel Webster and Robert Hayne, but soon involving nearly the entire Senate.[295] This high-level and high-stakes debate tells much about how the Preamble was understood and used in the early Republic. The immediate issues at hand arose over a resolution concerning federal policies on the sale of public lands and out of concerns about high federal tariffs on imports that hurt Southern exports and protected Northern manufacturing.[296]

This soon embroiled the Senate in polarized constitutional debates over federal debt, sectional interests, conflicts between various understandings of state sovereignty and the federal union, disputes over the presidential veto and removal powers, questions about Supreme Court jurisdiction over claims between the federal government and the states, and arguments about who actually authorized the Constitution. The debate essentially became “a dispute over the nature of the union,”[297] ranging from nationalist arguments to erudite defenses of state sovereignty, and many others seeking “to define positions in the middle ground,” reflecting legislative “responsibility for constitutional construction and commitment to constitutional values” at a high level of ethical conviction.[298]

Throughout this important debate, both sides often quoted and appealed to language from the Preamble. The main words and phrases used were “We the People,” “justice,” “domestic tranquility,” “general welfare,” and “securing the blessings of liberty to themselves and their posterity.” These words were often used in selective, self-serving ways. Usually the debaters did not base their interpretations on detached political or linguistic information, whether or not they were based on either their current or the original usage of these terms. Nonetheless, this extensive use of the Preamble demonstrates the important role it played in construing the meaning of the principles and spirit of the Constitution. A few examples are illustrative.

Having introduced the Preamble’s language into the debate by arguing against the idea that the National debt “has an effect in binding the debtors to the country, and thereby serving as a link to hold the States together,” Hayne contended:

[T]he link which binds the public creditors, as such, to their country, binds them equally to all governments, whether arbitrary or free. In a free government, this principle of abject dependence, if extended through all the ramifications of society, must be fatal to liberty. . . . If this system is carried much further, no man can fail to see that every generous motive of attachment to the country will be destroyed . . . . I would teach them to cling to it by dispensing equal justice, and, above all, by securing the blessings of liberty to themselves and to their posterity.[299]

While Hayne used alarmist generalities to reject the idea of national debt, his point shows how language from the Preamble could be used to build the bonds of unity between the people and their government, in the present and for future generations as well.

Hayne then launched into a discussion of slavery and how the actions of the North, in relation to slavery, had violated principles of the Preamble. He stated:

Sir, all our difficulties on this subject have arisen from interference from abroad, which has disturbed, and may again disturb, our domestic tranquillity, [sic] just so far as to bring down punishment upon the heads of the unfortunate victims of a fanatical and mistaken humanity.

There is a spirit, which, like the father of evil, is constantly “walking to and fro about the earth, seeking whom it may devour.” It is the spirit of false philanthropy. The persons whom it possesses . . . are employed in lighting up the torches of discord throughout the community. . . . Then it is that he indulges in golden dreams of national greatness and prosperity. He discovers that “liberty is power;” and not content with vast schemes of improvement at home, . . . he flies to foreign lands, to fulfil obligations to “the human race,” by inculcating the principles of “political and religious liberty,” and promoting the “general welfare” of the whole human race. It is a spirit which has long been busy with the slaves of the South, and is even now displaying itself in vain efforts to drive the Government from its wise policy in relation to the Indians.[300]

Here again, Hayne conveniently narrows the words “domestic tranquility” and then exaggerates the words “general welfare” to refer to situations to which they need not apply. Although not necessarily a convincing style of argument, his use of language from the Preamble here shows again how readily the Preamble was accepted as an authoritative source for constitutional interpretation in the nineteenth century.

Hayne also defended his position on state sovereignty by, once again, using the Preamble:

The object of the framers of the constitution, as disclosed in that address, was not the consolidation of the Government, but the consolidation of the Union. It was not to draw power from the States, in order to transfer it to a great National Government, but, in the language of the constitution itself, to form a more perfect union; and by what means? By establishing justice, promoting domestic tranquility, and securing the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity. This is the true reading of the constitution. But, according to the gentleman’s reading, the object of the constitution was to consolidate the Government, and the means would seem to be, the promotion of injustice, causing domestic discord, and depriving the States and the people of the blessings of liberty forever.[301]

Here, Hayne attacked the idea, put forth by Webster, that one of the purposes of the Constitution was consolidation of the Government. Webster had quoted President Washington’s words to support that notion.[302] Both Webster and Hayne, however, may be overstating their cases. Neither a central consolidation nor a maintenance of state powers need be seen as unlimited or uncontained.

Arguing against the tariff, Hayne, quoting Webster, suggested that Congress might be acting, “somewhat against the spirit and intention of the Constitution, in exercising the power to control essentially the pursuits and occupations of individuals, not as incidental to the exercise of any other power, but as a substantial and direct power.”[303] But, he did not detail what he meant by “the spirit” of the Constitution, which in this case could be a relevant concern, since the phrase “general welfare” appears not only in the Preamble but also in Article I, Section 8, clause 1.

On the issue of state sovereignty, some argued that “the Constitution was not formed by the States, in their sovereign capacity, but by the People, and it is therefore inferred that the Federal Government, being created by all the People, must be supreme . . . .”[304] Hayne rejected that argument and used the Preamble to attack the argument’s source, insisting that the Constitution

was framed by the States acting in their sovereign capacity. When, in the preamble of the Constitution, we find the words we, the People of the United States, it is clear, they can only relate to the People as citizens of the several States, because the Federal Government was not then in existence.[305]

Hayne then took aim at the idea that states must submit to unconstitutional laws until an appeal is made “to her sister States, by a proposition to amend the Constitution.”[306] Hayne argued that when there is a difference in opinion on the proper exercise of federal power between a state government and the federal government, an appeal should be made to the “common superior,” which he defined as three-quarters of the states.[307] In cases that involved state action that was “deemed indispensable to the general welfare, as among the most sacred of our obligations,” Hayne wanted the other states, instead of the Supreme Court, to act as an arbitrator between, what he viewed as, two equal sovereigns, the federal government and the state government, for the idea that the federal government, as he say it set forth in the Preamble, “was intended to be a government of limited and specific, and not general powers, must be admitted by all; and it is our duty to preserve for it the character intended by its framers.”[308]

In this assertion, Hayne quoted Andrew Jackson, then President of the United States, who had used the term “general welfare” from the Preamble, when discussing the importance of adhering to the written Constitution. Jackson, later in his speech, warned against the encroachment of the federal government into the realm of state power and reaffirmed that the federal government was one of limited powers.[309]

Others in the debate explored the meaning of forming a “more perfect Union.” John Rowan, a Senator from Kentucky, entered the debate to support the sentiments of Hayne and to directly speak against Webster. Rowan argued that “The Constitution is not adapted to the People, in any condition, which as one People they could occupy, while it is admirably adapted for their use, in their State capacities–the purpose for which it was formed.”[310] Interestingly, Rowan also used parts of the Preamble to rebut Webster’s use of the Preamble. Rowan continued:

The word Union can relate to nothing but the States. The object, as I have before stated, was to unite them, not the People, more perfectly: Besides, a more perfect union of the People cannot be produced by a constitutional, than by the social compact. It is not the object of a Constitution to unite the people.[311]

William Smith, a Senator from South Carolina, also joined the debate.[312] Smith pointed out that “the division between the Federalists and the Republicans first took place” over a controversy concerning language partly found in the Preamble, namely “to provide for the public good and general welfare.”[313] Smith went on to explain that the Republicans had attacked the expansion of federal power, gained power themselves, and then used the “general welfare” language to do the same thing the Federalists had been doing.[314] Near the end of his speech, seeing achieving unity as the main objective, Smith stated, “I was not sent here to enlist under party banners, but to serve my country upon the principles of the Constitution, from which I hope General Jackson will never depart.”[315]

John Clayton, a Senator from Delaware, added his input specifically on the topic of the Supreme Court’s reputed inability to properly settle disputes between a state government and the federal government.[316] He argued that the states had ceded some of their rights to the United States in order “to provide for the general welfare.”[317] Regarding the President’s removal power, Clayton used this same language from the Preamble to argue for a strict limitation and distinct definition of the removal power, to be used only when really necessary for the general welfare” and not for “party uses, or for personal aggrandizement.”[318]

Also finding middle ground, this time in the sovereignty discussion, Edward Livingston, from Louisiana, attacked the view that the Preamble supports the notion that the federal government is strictly a “popular Government.”[319] Regarding the words, “We the People:

[I]t never has been imagined or asserted that the people of the United States collectively, as a whole people, gave their assent or were consulted in that capacity; the people of each State were consulted to know whether that State would form a part of the United States under the articles of the Constitution, and to that they gave their assent, simply as citizens of that State.

This Government, then, is neither such a federative one, founded on a compact, as leaves to all the parties their full sovereignty, nor such a consolidated popular government, as deprives them of the whole of that sovereign power. It is a compact by which the people of each State have consented to take from their own Legislatures some of the powers they had conferred upon them, and to transfer them, with other enumerated powers, to the Government of the United States, created by that compact; these powers, so conferred, are some of those exercised by the sovereign power of the country in which they reside.[320]

Ultimately, this classic debate covered a number of topics outside of the legislation that was in front of the Senators. However, the topics discussed are not nearly as important for present purposes as are the numerous times the Senators appealed to the language of the Preamble to support their various understandings of the legal operation and requirements of the Constitution. Interestingly, people tried—some more successfully than others—to use the Preamble to support their side of the issues. While developing a strong jurisprudence of the Preamble is an important task which still lies in the future, the fact that the Preamble’s language was readily appealed to in this 1830 debate shows that it has been and can be used in order to arrive, by a preponderance of well-reasoned perceptions, at the most plausible application of the law in a number of situations. The Preamble carried such weight that in his eulogy of George Washington, delivered on February 22, 1832, the centennial of Washington’s birth, Daniel Webster did not pass up the opportunity to attribute the first President’s immortal success to his adherence to his North Star for the whole nation, namely the Preamble, whose six specific objectives Webster quoted in full.[321]

2.  Justice Joseph Story’s Commentaries on the Constitution (1833)

Born on September 18, 1779,[322] Joseph Story was exactly eight years old when the Constitution was signed on September 17, 1787.[323] He graduated from Harvard Law in 1801 and subsequently practiced law in Massachusetts.[324] He was appointed to the United States Supreme Court by James Madison in 1811 and began teaching at Harvard in 1829. While a member of the Supreme Court, Story worked alongside Chief Justice John Marshall for twenty-four years until Marshall’s death in 1835. Upon Marshall’s death, Story assumed the title of Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.[325] Based on his background, Story’s long chapter on the Preamble and his interpretation of its purposes provide can provide authoritative insights in how the early founders and prominent legal minds viewed the proper role of the Preamble in constitutional interpretation.

Joseph Story’s writings on the Preamble are found in his well-known Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States.[326] This magnum opus, written in 1833, is widely viewed as one of the more authoritative treatises on the Constitution ever written.[327] Story’s coverage of the Preamble is extensive, covering sixty paragraphs with sixty-eight footnotes.

Because Story’s writing about the Preamble is referenced briefly in Jacobson v. Massachusetts’s opinion and because this Article argues below that the Preamble should be restored to the role it historically held, the key points in Story’s writings on the Preamble will be quoted and explained in some detail to bring to light his understanding of the Preamble’s legal roles as an integral part of the Constitution.

Before he discussed the historical context and legal meanings of each of the words and phrases in the Preamble, Story explained important roles that preambles typically play in statutory interpretation:

The importance of examining the preamble, for the purpose of expounding the language of a statute, has been long felt, and universally conceded in all juridical discussions. It is an admitted maxim in the ordinary course of the administration of justice, that the preamble of a statute is a key to open the mind of the makers, as to the mischiefs, which are to be remedied, and the objects, which are to be accomplished by the provisions of the statute . . . . [T]he will and intention of the legislature is to be regarded and followed. It is properly resorted to, where doubts or ambiguities arise upon the words of the enacting part; for if they are clear and unambiguous, there seems little room for interpretation, except in cases leading to an obvious absurdity, or to a direct overthrow of the intention expressed in the preamble.[328]

Story believed that preambles provided a key that could unlock the framers’ intentions and could also serve as a salutary limit on any excessive exercise of power. Story was, in modern terms, an originalist who believed that a statute’s or constitutional provision’s meaning should be determined by looking at the intention of the framers. He explains, “[t]here does not seem any reason why, in a fundamental law or constitution of government, an equal attention should not be given to the intention of the framers, as stated in the preamble.”[329]

Upon this foundation, Story made the following statement on how the Preamble should not be used:

The preamble never can be resorted to, to enlarge the powers confided to the general government, or any of its departments. It cannot confer any power per se; it can never amount, by implication, to an enlargement of any power expressly given. It can never be the legitimate source of any implied power, when otherwise withdrawn from the constitution. Its true office is to expound the nature, and extent, and application of the powers actually conferred by the constitution, and not substantively to create them.[330]

And it is this statement, in isolation, that was cited in Jacobson as support for Justice Harlan’s brief statement that the preamble should not be used to interpret the Constitution.[331]

Far from saying that the Preamble serves no purpose when interpreting the powers the Constitution grants, Story explains that the Preamble is to be used to “expound” on and find the “extent” of the powers granted. Story then concluded his overall observations about the Preamble:

We have the strongest assurances, that this preamble was not adopted as a mere formulary; but as a solemn promulgation of a fundamental fact, vital to the character and operations of the government. The obvious object was to substitute a government of the people, for a confederacy of states; a constitution for a compact. . . . The people therein declare, that their design in establishing it comprehended six objects: (1.) To form a more perfect union; (2.) to establish justice; (3.) to insure domestic tranquility; (4.) to provide for the common defence; (5.) to promote the general welfare; (6.) to secure the blessings of liberty to themselves and their posterity.[332]

Without rehearsing all of his points, Story obviously saw the Preamble serving many functions in constitutional law. Although writing from an avowed Federalist position, he gave full and fair exposition of opposing views. Overall, he saw the Preamble as providing the needed cohesion and hope necessary to hold the whole constitution together, cementing the extensive domestic and geostrategic debates of the convention. In section 462, while warning against resorting to the Preamble to enlarge confided governmental powers, Story stressed its importance in construing and resolving ambiguities, even allowing the interpreter liberty to reject a restrictive meaning which would defeat an avowed purpose of the constitution. He insisted that all of the six objects of the Preamble were to be fully honored and that legal interpreters should trace the relations that each of these objects bears to the others, recognizing that they comprise collectively everything necessary for popular prosperity and happiness. In sections 466, 467 and 483, he maintained it was necessary to revisit the Preamble in order to maintain the union in the face of those who stir up disaffection, exaggerate unavoidable inequalities, and promote division and disunion that are caused by prejudices, disappointments, ambition, party strife, rivalries, local pressures, and corruption, because thinking about the Preamble will “induce each state to sacrifice many of its own objects for the general good.”[333] Although he addressed at some length each of the Preamble’s six stated objectives, he spent most time on the mandate “to form a more perfect union.” Regarding “securing the blessings of liberty,” he was most interested in how these blessings and liberties will be secured, by a strong central government protecting against foreign invasions and state subversions.

Consequently, for Story, the Preamble was purposefully placed at the beginning of the Constitution to not only emphasize the type of government formed by the Constitution, but to solemnly and efficaciously delimit purposes of that Constitution to the adopted six. Thus, the purpose of the Preamble was seen, and is to be seen, as vital in understanding and interpreting its provisions and as a check on the several purposes and attendant powers given to the federal government.

3.  Former President John Quincy Adams and Others

Marking the Fiftieth Anniversary in 1839 of George Washington’s Inauguration in 1789, John Quincy Adams further reflected this lofty view of the Preamble at the end of a lengthy speech about the purposes and development of the Nation since the Constitution’s ratification. Adams referred frequently to the “principles” of the Constitution and reflected on the Preamble and its relevance:

The first object of the people, declared by the Constitution as their motive for its establishment, to form a more Perfect Union, had been attained by the establishment of the Constitution itself; but this was yet to be demonstrated by its practical operation in the establishment of justice, in the ensurance of domestic tranquility, in the provision for the common defence, in the promotion of the general welfare, and in securing the blessings of liberty to the people themselves, the authors of the Constitution, and to their posterity.

These are the great and transcendental objects of all legitimate government. The primary purposes of all human association. For these purposes the confederation had been instituted, and had signally failed for their attainment. How far have they been attained under this new national organization?[334]

President Adams clearly viewed the Preamble as declaring “the first object of the people” and “their motive” for establishment of the Constitution, namely “to form a more Perfect Union,” but he also soberly observed that this declaration in 1787 still left this primary goal to be demonstrated and attained in “practical operation” by carrying out the Preamble’s five further provisions.[335] Thus, Adams not only saw the principles of the Preamble as theoretical ideals, as “the great and transcendental objects of all legitimate government” and “the primary purposes of all human association,” but he also insisted on the practical attainment of these goals. For him, the Preamble was the measuring stick against which the behaviors of government could be assessed, and he celebrated many reasons for his belief that the innovative American “national organization” was “triumphantly accomplish[ing]” these aims.[336]

In the second half of his lengthy jubilee speech, Adams drew attention to unprecedented prosperity, westward expansion, harmonizing command, and meekness in the model set by George Washington, who strengthened the virtue of the people, perpetuated the states’ league of friendship, negotiated international treaties, and limited the powers of the federal government “to concerns interesting to the whole people.”[337] Any challenges to this continuing success, Adams declared, would need to be met by “reverting to the precedents” that led to the adoption of the Constitution as found in the Preamble, “to form a more perfect union,” and “to establish justice,” which he noted was defined “as the constant and perpetual will of securing to everyone his right,” which necessarily “includes the whole duty of man in the social institutions of society, toward his neighbour.”[338]

In his conclusion, former President Adams saw the Constitution as a “return to the principles of the Declaration of Independence, and the exclusive constituent power of the people” which “was the work of the ONE PEOPLE of the United States.”[339] And then, returning to the biblical origins of the concept of Jubilee, Adams ended his passionate address with a consonant ancient allegory to the principles of the Constitution: “Fellow-citizens, the ark of your covenant is the Declaration of Independence. Your Mount Ebal, is the confederacy of separate state sovereignties, and your Mount Gerizim is the Constitution of the United States.”[340] All of “the blessings and cursings” foretold in the formation of the ancient Israelite state are to be suffered or enjoyed by “your posterity,” contingent upon “your and their adherence to, or departure from, the principles of the Declaration of Independence, practically interwoven in the Constitution of the United States.”[341]

In this same post-Jacksonian era, other examples of the ready use of the Preamble in public discourse come from Senator Calhoun from South Carolina, who spoke in the Senate on February 28, 1842 against the President’s use of the veto power. He claimed that an improper use of the veto would violate the substantive foundational legal principles, operations, and purposes of the entire constitutional government, articulated especially in the Preamble.[342] And likewise, Joseph Smith, an influential presidential candidate in 1844,[343] used the Preamble as the heart of his campaign pamphlet, General Smith’s Views of the Powers and Policy of the Government of the United States.[344] Its first page quoted the Preamble in full, and then, it went on to argue for the sovereign voice of the united people, mentioning most of the words in the Preamble at least once and some of them (especially “the people,” “union,” and “liberty”) numerous times, finding in the Preamble reasons to decry disunity, partisan discord, and sectional politics. At the same time, he also insisted on federal duties to “provide for the common defense” and the “common welfare” and to “secure” the people in “their rights properly respected,” while also setting “limitations” upon the government’s powers and authorities.[345]

4.  President Abraham Lincoln

To this selected list of references to the Preamble in the nineteenth century, one can rightfully add the following statements by President Abraham Lincoln. They require little comment.

In a speech on the campaign trail in Cincinnati, Ohio, September 17, 1859, he used the Preamble to create a legally compelling duty upon the federal government:

This government is expressly charged with the duty of providing for the general welfare. We believe that the spreading out and perpetuity of the institution of slavery impairs the general welfare. We believe, nay, we know that that is the only thing that has ever threatened the perpetuity of the Union itself. The only think which has ever menaced the destruction of the government under which we live, is this very thing. To repress this thing, we think is providing for the general welfare.[346]

In his First Inaugural Address (March 4, 1861), Lincoln continued his finding of legal authority in the Preamble:

And finally, in 1787 one of the declared objects for ordaining and establishing by the Constitution was “to form a more perfect Union.” But if the destruction of the Union by one or by a part only of the States be lawfully possible, the Union is less perfect than before the Constitution, having lost the vital element of perpetuity. It follows from these views that no State upon its own mere motion can lawfully get out of the Union; that resolves and ordinances to that effect are legally void . . . .[347]

In Lincoln’s Special Session Message (July 4, 1861), he pointed out the eradication of the legal authority of the people by the Confederate southern states:

Our adversaries have adopted some declarations of independence in which, unlike the good old one penned by Jefferson, they omit the words “all men are created equal.” Why? They have adopted a temporary national constitution, in the preamble of which, unlike our good old one signed by Washington, they omit “We, the people,” and substitute “We, the deputies of the sovereign and independent States.” Why? Why this deliberate pressing out of view the rights of men and the authority of the people?[348]

And at the end of his Gettysburg Address (November 19, 1863), Lincoln turned once again to the Preamble at that poignant moment of unthinkable death but in hopes of life and rebirth: [T]hat this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.”[349] His immortal words call out for a second formation of the ideal union, based on popular sovereignty by the people, for the purpose of acting for the common benefit of the people, that will be ordained and established not to perish from the earth.

L.  Preambles in State Constitutions in the Nineteenth Century

Just as many aspects of the federal Constitution were derived in 1787 from then-existing state constitutions,[350] in reciprocal fashion, nineteenth century state constitutions, and especially their preambles, were often based on the federal Constitution.[351] Though most state constitutional preambles do not perfectly mirror the federal Preamble, they often share similarities. Their differences in language, along with state courts decisions interpreting them, can shed further light on the received significance and meanings of words and phrases in the federal Preamble.

Variation in terminology among state preambles shows that people viewed them as serving a particular function. They were not included as idle mantras; rather, they functioned as the Federal Preamble, which stressed national interests and aims.[352]

Some follow the United States’ Preamble closely (Alabama, Maine, Colorado, Nebraska, South Dakota, and Wisconsin), but many include other various words and phrases, often accentuating regional or local cultural preferences.

Thirty-eight begin “We, the People,” usually with the comma. Only two begin with historical “Whereas” clauses (Virginia contains three; South Carolina has two).

No need is ever expressed in any of these state constitutions to form “a more perfect union,” evidence that the “union” in the United States’ Preamble was understood to refer to the union of the thirteen original states. Five state preambles, however, speak of forming a “more perfect government” (Colorado, Nebraska, Nevada, South Dakota, and Wisconsin).

“Establish justice” appears only in eight state preambles (Alabama, Colorado, Illinois, Indiana, Maine, Ohio, Oregon, South Dakota), and curiously “justice” alone never appears in any.

“Domestic tranquility” shows up three times (Nebraska, Nevada, and Wisconsin), with “tranquility” alone three times (Alabama, Massachusetts (1780), and South Dakota). This may be relevant in confirming that “domestic” refers primarily to the national peacefulness, as opposed to international, since the states generally do not see it as their purpose to promote domestic tranquility.

The word “welfare” is found in twelve state preambles: four have the unmodified word “welfare” (Delaware, Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio); two “our common welfare” (Idaho and Maine); one speaks of “our mutual welfare and happiness” (Oklahoma); and five preambles follow the U.S. Preamble, using the phrase “general welfare” (Alabama, Colorado, Nebraska, South Dakota, and Wisconsin). This finding fairly strongly indicates that “general welfare” in the U.S. Preamble speaks of something nationalon a wider scale—rather than welfare within state or smaller political units.

Common defense” is even rarer (only in Alabama, Colorado, and South Dakota), indicating that the common (usually national) defense was not typically a responsibility of individual states.

Interestingly, the word “blessings” appears in twenty state preambles. Seven of those refer to securing or preserving the “blessings of liberty” (“secure:” Colorado, Illinois, Indiana, Maine, and Ohio; “preserve:” South Dakota and New Jersey). The other thirteen preambles aim to secure many other kinds of blessings, which may be civic, secular, personal, or religious.

Some, as in the Federal Preamble, speak of “liberties” in the plural (Arizona, Connecticut, North Carolina, Washington, and Wyoming), but five mention protecting or securing “liberty,” as in “life, liberty, and property,” following the original formula of John Locke (Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Louisiana, and Michigan).

Many state preambles adopt from the Federal Preamble the operative enacting language “do ordain and establish” (thirty-three states).

How all these words might be understood yet remains to be explored. But it appears that some degree of purposefulness went into the drafting and adopting of these state preambles, as was also the case with the U.S. Preamble. Furthermore, given their reliance on the Federal Preamble, it seems the states viewed it as having some substantive value and merit.

Nineteenth-century state courts had very little to say about their states’ constitutional preambles. Although litigants sometimes referenced their preamble to bolster legal arguments,[353] only a couple of state courts have relied on constitutional preambles to affirm their decisions. In Ex parte Martin, the Arkansas Supreme Court read into the state constitution a prohibition barring the taking of private property without just compensation.[354] “The preamble to the constitution of this State, declares the purpose of the people . . . in the ordaining of a constitution for their government, to secure to them and their posterity, the enjoyment of all the rights of life, liberty, and property, and the free pursuit of happiness.”[355] The court reasoned that these purposes—along with other purposes detailed in the constitution’s declaration of rights—imply that the taking of private property without just compensation is unconstitutional.[356] In short, the preamble was used to secure rights and decide an important constitutional question.

In Maine, in In re Opinion of the Justices, the Supreme Judicial Court was asked to decide whether the state legislature had the authority to pass laws enabling towns to tax citizens to assist the manufacturing efforts of private parties.[357] The court responded in the negative. In support of its reasoning, the court noted that the preamble corrals the powers of the legislature, “[a]ny object which cannot be classed under one or other of [the preamble’s purposes] is beyond the proper scope of legislation.”[358] Lawyers in the Jacobson case, as it was arising in Massachusetts, one of Maine’s sister states, could well have noted this language from the Supreme Judicial Court of Maine, offering them some ground for arguing that at least in certain cases the power of a state legislature needs to be located within one of the objects set forth and adopted in the preamble to the state’s constitution.

In sum, preambles in state constitutions carried some legal status in the nineteenth century. People used them to guard against governments overstepping their roles or powers. If any government action contradicted the general principles announced in a preamble, it could be seen as ineffectual and even be deemed unconstitutional. Additionally, when drafting their state preambles, the states drew inspiration from the Federal Preamble, suggesting they viewed it as playing an important role in preserving constitutional restraints and protections.

II.  Limiting Jacobson’s Statements Regarding the Preamble

In light of the foregoing legal history of the Preamble, readers may be surprised, if not distressed, by the 7-2 majority opinion of the United States Supreme Court in Jacobson v. Massachusetts.[359] In Jacobson, the Supreme Court, with minimal consideration and no written dissents, ignored and departed from the previously consistent applications and understandings of the Preamble as an important legal part of the Constitution. Whether intended this way or not, the typical upshot of Jacobson is found in a widely used student guide to the Constitution, which teaches: “it is worth noting that the Preamble itself, unlike the rest of the Constitution, is not regarded as part of the supreme law of the land. It is merely an introduction.”[360] Whatever else it may be, it is not merely an introduction.

To assess Jacobson’s precedential value with respect to the Preamble, this study now turns to an examination of what was actually argued in the briefs, in the District Court, in the Circuit Court, and in the Supreme Court.[361] Because this opinion has exerted seminal force in marginalizing the Preamble, the following analysis provides greater discussion of this case than has ever been given before. Because the legal status and meaning of the Preamble was not briefed or argued at all, and because the facts and issues actually addressed in Jacobson were deemed irrelevant to the Preamble, the Supreme Court’s Preamble language is dicta. The court has several options it could, and should, follow in limiting or clarifying the force and effect of its cursory paragraph about the Preamble found only on the opening page of this lengthy opinion.

A.  Facts and Arguments in Jacobson

In Jacobson v. Massachusetts, a Massachusetts statute empowered any municipality, at its discretion, to “enforce the vaccination and revaccination of all the inhabitants thereof, and shall provide them, with the means of free vaccination. Whoever, being over twenty-one years of age and not under guardianship, refuses or neglects to comply with such requirement shall forfeit $5.”[362] On February 27, 1902, the Cambridge city board of health, acting under color of this statute, adopted a resolution to eliminate smallpox that read in part, “be it ordered, that all the inhabitants of the city who have not been successfully vaccinated since March 1st, 1897 be vaccinated or revaccinated.”[363] Henry Jacobson, the defendant, refused to be vaccinated. Consequently, he was indicted and found guilty by the Third District Court of Massachusetts for violating the regulation.[364] The district court ordered that “he stand committed until this sentence be performed” and that he pay the fivedollar fine.[365] The defendant appealed the ruling, and the case was brought before the Massachusetts Superior Court.

In superior court, the defendant made a plethora of superficial arguments in the hope that the court would accept one of them. He attempted to put forth evidence supporting a number of theories: vaccines can cause injury or death; it is impossible to know the results of a vaccine before it is given; the smallpox vaccine consists of introducing to the human system another disease known as cowpox; vaccines are ineffective at preventing the spread of contagious diseases; the defendant has previously endured extreme pain as a result of a vaccine; and the defendant’s son had suffered a number of adverse effects as a result of a vaccine.[366] However, the superior court ruled that all such facts were immaterial and excluded them.[367] The defendant also asked the court to give the jury the following instructions: “[t]hat section 137 of chapter 75 of the Revised Laws is unconstitutional and void, and the refusal by defendant to comply with the requirements of the board of health here in evidence, constituted no offence [sic] . . . .[368] As support for this requested instruction, the defendant argued that the state statute upon which the Cambridge ordinance was based violated the

rights secured to the defendant by the preamble to the Constitution, . . . Article V[] of the amendments of the Constitution, . . . Article XIV[] of the amendments of the Constitution, . . . articles I, X, and XIV of Part the First of the Massachusetts Constitution, . . . [and] article IV of chapter one [of the Massachusetts Constitution].[369]

The defendant also argued four other reasons, including that it violated the spirit of the Massachusetts Constitution and that it was unconstitutional under both the United States Constitution and the Constitution of Massachusetts.[370] The superior court saw through the smoke and disregarded all of these arguments. They refused to give any of the requested instructions.[371] The defendant was found guilty,[372] and an appeal was taken to the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts.[373]

On appeal, the defendant’s assignment of errors repeated the same superficial claims from the lower court and asserted that the superior court erred in refusing to instruct the jury “that section 137 of the Revised Laws chapter 75, under which section said complaint was brought, was unconstitutional and void” because

said section is in derogation of the rights secured to the defendant by the preamble, . . . said section violates and infringes the rights secured to the defendant by article 5 of the amendments, . . . said section is in derogation of the rights secured by the defendant by article 14 of the amendments,
. . . [and] said section was repugnant to the spirit of the Constitution of the United States.[374]

Additionally, the defendant claimed the superior court erred in ruling that the facts the defendant offered to prove were immaterial. The defendant argued the facts were material because they demonstrated that the statute infringed on the defendant’s constitutional rights. Specifically, the defendant claimed the facts demonstrated a violation of “article 5 and section 1 of article 14 of the amendments of said Constitution” because the law was not applied equally to children and adults.[375]

The Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court also saw through the smoke and rejected all of these arguments. It held, without commenting on or mentioning the preamble directly, that the act was constitutional and the facts the defendant wanted to prove were immaterial to the analysis.[376] The Supreme Judicial Court explained the act in question was enacted for the prevention of smallpox” and “[t]hat such an object is worthy of the intelligent thought and earnest endeavor of legislators is too plain for discussion.”[377] The court then held: “Under the police power there is general legislative authority to make laws for the common good. Article 4 of chapter 1 of the constitution of Massachusetts states more fully than most constitutions the nature of this power” and that “this power extends to the protection and preservation of the public health is not questioned.”[378] The court explained that “the liberty of the individual may be interfered with whenever the general welfare requires a course of proceedings to which certain persons object because of their peculiar opinions or special individual interests.”[379] Interestingly, in mentioning “liberty” and “general welfare,” the Massachusetts Supreme Court was implicitly balancing the impact of two key words in the Preamble to the United States Constitution. Regarding the defendant’s proffer of evidence, the court reasoned that even if experts would testify against the vaccination, the judge would still have “considered this testimony of experts in connection with the facts that for nearly a century most of the members of the medical profession have regarded vaccination, repeated after intervals, as preventative of small pox” and therefore, “if the defendant had been permitted to introduce such expert testimony as he had in support of these several propositions, it could not have changed the result.”[380] Thus the court ruled that there was “no reason for regarding the present statute as outside the legislative authority to enact it.”[381] In regards to the Fourteenth Amendment claim, the court simply held that the argument was “not well founded” and that “the statute is constitutional.”[382] The defendant then appealed to the Supreme Court of the United States.

In the defendant’s brief to the Supreme Court, the defendant argued again that the statute was unconstitutional because “it is contrary to the preamble of the Constitution of the United States . . . .” and “it is contrary to the Fourteenth Amendment of the Constitution.”[383] However, despite the preamble’s prominent position at the beginning, it was mentioned only one other time in the defendant’s thirty-one page brief. Furthermore, there was no case law cited that related to the preamble of the Constitution and no affirmative argument made that the preamble possessed independent substantive authority to limit or expand government action. Instead, the brief focused heavily on the police power of the state and argued extensively that compulsory vaccination was not within the state’s police power.[384] Admittedly, within the defendant’s police power argument, he did rely on the Constitution; however, it is the Fourteenth Amendment, and not the preamble, that is quoted and used to defend his position.[385]

The one time the Preamble is mentioned, after the introduction, is short and is quoted here in full.

The preamble of the Constitution declares it to be one of the purposes of the instrument to secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity. Liberty of citizen in the very first analysis is immunity of his person from seizure or injury, except for the commission of an offence against the state, and the vaccination law of Massachusetts is a violation of his fundamental right to liberty as guaranteed to English speaking people from the Magna Charta, through the Constitution of the United States to the Fourteenth Amendment.[386]

It is evident from this quote that the argument for or against any independent substantive or other authority of the Preamble was not developed, or even argued, by the defendant. The defendant’s real constitutional arguments concerned the Fourteenth Amendment, and it was exclusively on this basis that the case was heard in federal court. The last sentence in the defendant’s brief asserts, “[a]s the Fourteenth Amendment has so often been appealed to for the protection of property, this plaintiff appeals to it with confidence for the protection of his freedom.”[387] The Preamble was only being used to inform the spirit or purpose of the Constitution in a way that would support the defendant’s position that was fully-debated in the briefsthat this vaccination law violated the Fourteenth Amendment.

In response, Massachusetts, understanding what was being argued, offered no case law arguing or showing that the Preamble has no independent substantive authority to grant or restrict government action. Instead, Massachusetts responded to the Preamble argument made by the defendant, stating, “[i]t is no argument that the conviction was repugnant to the spirit or to the preamble of the constitution.”[388] Massachusetts then cites case law to explain that an appeal to the spirit of the Constitution would be fruitless and moved onto the real issues involving the Fourteenth Amendment and the state’s police power.

Appealing to the spirit of the Constitution and informing what that spirit is through the language of the Preamble is not tantamount to arguing that the Preamble grants or limits government authority. Although some language within the briefs may point to a substantive rights argument,[389] when taken as a whole, it quickly becomes apparent that neither party was so arguing. Indeed, the final sentence of the Massachusetts’ brief sums up the real argument in the case very well: “[s]ince the statute authorizing vaccination, the order of the board of health in conformity with the statute and the discretionary administration of the order, so far as appears, were all free from arbitrary or unequal operation, the judgment of the Superior Court of Massachusetts ought to be affirmed.”[390] The words arbitrary and unequal demonstrate that the gravamen of the argument was focused on the police power and the Fourteenth Amendment. Consequently, it can be concluded that the substantive authority of the preamble to grant rights or to limit government action was not fully debated in this case. Indeed, it was not debated in the briefs at all.[391] Any opining by the Court on the Preamble’s grant of rights or substantive governmental authority or power is thus appear to be dicta.

B.  The Opinion of the United States Supreme Court

Just as the briefs in Jacobson completely lacked any reasoned analysis of the legal status and functions of the Preamble, so Justice Harlan’s opinion itself also yields no indication that the legal roles, powers, or functions of the Preamble were ever materially considered. On several grounds, the statements in this opinion about the Preamble lack authority and should be discounted.

The opinion actually says very little about the Preamble. Only in its first two brief paragraphs is it even mentioned. Harlan’s opinion begins by summarily stating: “[w]e pass without extended discussion the suggestion that the particular section of the statute of Massachusetts now in question (section 137, chap. 75) is in derogation of rights secured by the Preamble of the Constitution of the United States.”[392] Indeed, the Court moved on with hardly any discussion at all. As has been demonstrated in the foregoing discussion, the mentioned “suggestion” was never truly advanced or developed in the briefs. More accurately, what the defendant had actually suggested was only that the Preamble supported his particular argument that the Massachusetts’s statute should be found in derogation of his rights granted by the Fourteenth Amendment.[393] Instead of addressing that supportive use of the Preamble, Harlan immediately and universally proclaimed:

Although that Preamble indicates the general purposes for which the people ordained and established the Constitution, it has never been regarded as the source of any substantive power conferred on the government of the United States, or on of any of its departments. Such powers embrace only those expressly granted in the body of the Constitution, and such as may be implied from those so granted. Although, therefore, one of the declared objects of the Constitution was to secure the blessings of liberty to all under the sovereign jurisdiction and authority of the United States, no power can be exerted to that end by the United States, unless, apart from the preamble, it be found in some express delegation of power, or in some power to be properly implied therefrom.[394]

That this statement represents the opinion of Justice Harlan, and probably the Justices who joined him, cannot be doubted. However, this statement is problematic in several ways.

As shown above, never in any of the briefs or lower court opinions was it argued that the Preamble grants, or was needed to grant, substantive authority to the federal government in this case. Instead, the defendant argued that the Preamble informs the spirit of the Fourteenth Amendment to restrict, not grant, the authority given to the government.[395] Harlan’s logic seems to be that because (A) the Supreme Court (like any other department of the United States government) must look to express power-granting sections of the Constitutions—such as Article III or the Fourteenth Amendment—to find federal power, and, in this case, to overturn a state statute, it then follows that (B) the Preamble can have nothing to do with Jacobson’s petition or, for that matter, neither can the Preamble have anything to do with any other case. But conclusion (B) does not follow from premise (A). The defendant was asserting that rights had been promised or secured to him by the Preamble, not that judicial powers needed to be found there by the federal court system.

Moreover, Harlan’s logic in this opening paragraph is circular. It assumes its conclusion and contains overstatements. It reasons that because the Preamble has (supposedly) never been seen in any way as a “source of any substantive power,” then any power to be exerted by the United States must be found in some other source of power in the body of the Constitution “apart from the preamble.”[396] But is it true that the Preamble “has never been regarded as the source of any substantive power,” or that it never might or should be so used?[397] Is it true that the Preamble is not a legal part of the Constitution from which powers to achieve its purposes can never be implied? In support of this premise, Harlan only selectively cites Joseph Story. But as has been explained above and will be mentioned below, Story’s lengthy discussion of the Preamble in his Commentaries of the Constitution does not fully support this questionable premise.[398] Furthermore, this is the only time that the Preamble is even mentioned in this opinion.[399]

Several observations and questions should and could have been explored and considered by the Court before speaking categorically about the Preambleabout what rights it may or may not grant; which purposes and roles it may or may not serve; how it might function to limit or aid in defining federal government authority and power; and under what circumstances the retained right of liberty secured by the Constitution can or cannot be restrained in this particular case. Consequently, the first half of Harlan’s opening paragraph regarding the Preamble goes beyond the scope of this case. As dicta it may be respected, but is not controlling.

Moreover, the holding regarding the constitutionality of the Massachusetts statute did not require any discussion of the Preamble. It only required answers to the two questions that were actually argued:[400] (1) did its requirement of vaccination come within the authority of the state’s police power, and (2) did it contravene the rights guaranteed by the Fourteenth Amendment of the United States?[401] These two questions are discussed in the rest of the Supreme Court’s lengthy Jacobson opinion.[402] In answering the first question, Justice Harlan concludes, “[a]ccording to settled principles, the police power of a state must be held to embrace, at least, such reasonable regulations established directly by legislative enactment as will protect the public health and the public safety.”[403] In framing the second question, Harlan explained, “[t]he possession and enjoyment of all rights are subject to such reasonable conditions as may be deemed by the governing authority of the country essential to the safety, health, peace, good order, and morals of the community.”[404] Applying the facts of this case to the statements above, the Court ruled in favor of the state, holding that this statute was within its police power and that “this legislation has [not] invaded any right secured by the Federal Constitution.”[405]

Returning to Justice Harlan’s opening paragraph about the Preamble, he supports his view simply by citing generally one section (Section 462) from Joseph Story. However, other parts of Story’s treatise actually support the use of the Preamble in the way it was understood and used in the briefs, especially by the defendant Jacobson. In Section 459, Story says, “the preamble of a statute is a key to open the mind of the makers, as to the mischiefs, which are to be remedied, and the objects, which are to be accomplished.”[406] In Section 460, he explains:

There does not seem any reason why, in a fundamental law or constitution of government, an equal attention should not be given to the intention of the framers, as stated in the preamble. And accordingly we find, that it has been constantly referred to by statesmen and jurists to aid them in the exposition of its provisions.[407]

In Section 462, after the line quoted by Harlan, Story continued: “[The Preamble] can never be the legitimate source of any implied power, when otherwise withdrawn from the constitution. Its true office is to expound the nature, and extent, and application of the powers actually conferred . . . .[408] Far from attempting to remove the Preamble from a position of importance in constitutional analysis and interpretation, Story advanced the idea that the Preamble can enlighten one’s understanding of the framer’s intentions and should be used in several ways on par with any other section of the Constitution in deciphering the meanings of provisions within the Constitution as a whole, including the Fourteenth Amendment.

Somewhat ironically, Justice Harlan himself supports this general interpretive proposition when he uses the preamble of the Massachusetts Constitution within the Jacobson opinion. Five pages into the text of the opinion, in explaining the police power and that appropriate restrictions on liberty are necessary to live within a society, Harlan supports his ruling by stating:

In the Constitution of Massachusetts adopted in 1780 it was laid down as a fundamental principle of the social compact that the whole people covenants with each citizen, and each citizen with the whole people, that all shall be governed by certain laws for the common good, and that government is instituted “for the common good, for the protection, safety, prosperity, and happiness of the people, and not for the profit, honor, or private interests of any one man, family, or class of men.” The good and welfare of the commonwealth, of which the legislature is primarily the judge, is the basis on which the police power rests in Massachusetts.[409]

Here, Harlan quotes the Massachusetts preamble, as well as other sections, of the Massachusetts Constitution. Not using this state preamble to grant any government entity substantive authority, he instead uses it to support his opinion regarding the contours of Massachusetts’s police power. At the same time, neither did the defendant attempt to use the federal Preamble to grant any government entity substantive authority, but to support his view of the contours of the Fourteenth Amendment. Consequently, Harlan’s supportive use of the preamble of the Massachusetts Constitution is similar to the defendant’s desired use of the Preamble of the U.S. Constitution. It would seem that this use by Harlan cuts against his opening dismissal of any possible legal use of the Preamble in defining and limiting the powers of the government its constitution controls.

In the second paragraph of the Jacobson opinion, Justice Harlan added one passing comment about the “spirit of the Constitution,” saying:

We also pass without discussion the suggestion that the above section of the statute is opposed to the spirit of the Constitution. Undoubtedly, as observed by Chief Justice Marshall, speaking for the court in Sturges v. Crowninshield, “the spirit of an instrument, especially of a constitution, is to be respected not less than its letter; yet the spirit is to be collected chiefly from its words.” We have no need in this case to go beyond the plain, obvious meaning of the words in those provisions of the Constitution which, it is contended, must control our decision.[410]

But Harlan’s dismissive statement here assumes that, when John Marshall spoke of “its words,” Marshall meant to exclude the words of the Preamble and consider only the words found “in those provisions” in the Articles of the Constitution. Once again, Harlan’s reading is historically dubious.[411] While it is true that any court’s decision should strive to look chiefly to “the plain, obvious meaning of the words in those provisions . . . which . . . must control [that case],[412] it is not self-evident which collection of “words” and “provisions” bear on that decision or not, and how much weight each word should be given.

Moreover, later in the opinion, when Harlan needed to define “the liberty secured by the Constitution,” he made sure that liberty was not understood as “an absolute right in each person to be, at all times and in all circumstances, wholly freed from restraint,” but must be restrained “for the common good . . . in order to secure the general comfort, health, and prosperity of the state.”[413] Without Harlan saying so, it would appear, somewhat ironically, that he found his authority for this understanding of liberty in the Preamble’s communitarian promotion of common goods and of the general welfare.

Perhaps most controlling of all, Harlan himself restricted the scope of his holding in Jacobson, although this important language is completely overlooked by those who wish to see in Jacobson a controlling precedent. In his final paragraph, Justice Harlan states: “[w]e now decide only that the statute covers the present case, and that nothing clearly appears that would justify this court in holding it to be unconstitutional and inoperative in its application to the plaintiff in error.”[414] Even though this concluding statement seems to be aimed at limiting this holding to this one petitioner in this one statutory matter, this restricting language has achieved no such effect regarding the received perception of the Preamble’s non-binding legal status.

Unconvinced or uncomfortable, two of Justices, Brewer and Peckham, dissented, but filed no dissenting opinion. Thus, it is unknown whether they found the compulsory vaccination law to be unreasonable as applied to Jacobson or thought that the majority’s dismissal of the Preamble was premature and preemptive. Because the reasonableness of the statute was strongly supported throughout the opinion, one might suspect that their concerns involved the larger constitutional issues arising out of Harlan’s cursory statements about the Preamble.

C.  Judicial Options for Limiting Jacobson’s Statements About the Preamble

Having shown above that Justice Harlan’s opening language in Jacobson is flawed, if not meaningless, one must consider what options the Supreme Court has today in clarifying or rectifying this past situation. In attempting to avoid or overcome one of its past precedents, the Court has several options: (1) it can narrow the precedent or distinguish it;[415] (2) overturn it; or (3) declare it to be dicta (and thus of no precedential value to begin with).[416] Each of these options can be used at the Court’s discretion with varying amounts of pushback and social costs. While overturning a case can be quite dramatic and lead to sweeping changes in the legal community, distinguishing a case on the facts or identifying a statement as dicta can be done with little to no ripple effect. In an effort to demonstrate the paths the Court can take with its language in Jacobson, the following Section considers each of these options using examples from the Court’s own jurisprudence.

Narrowing the interpretation of past precedent happens when the Court simply “declines to apply a precedent, even though, in the court’s own view, the precedent is best read to apply.”[417] In Boumediene v. Bush,[418] the Court reviewed Johnson v. Eisentrager’s broad language, which explained that the writ of habeas corpus is not a right granted to a foreign combatant who “at no relevant time and in no stage of his captivity, has been within its territorial jurisdiction.”[419] While accepting that Eisentrager informed the analysis by applying, what they perceived as, its rule, the Boumediene Court held that Eisentrager was not a categorical bar against habeas corpus claims by foreign combatants on foreign soil.[420] Instead, they viewed the geographical location language in Eisentrager as one of the “practical considerations” of the time period.[421] When looking at practical considerations in Boumediene, the Court came to the opposite conclusion and held habeas corpus did apply to foreign combatants who had not been within the territorial jurisdiction.[422] This is a clear example of the Court taking straightforward language from a previous case, acknowledging that the best reading of the precedent points to a certain outcome,[423] and then refusing to reach that outcome in its application of identical facts.[424] It is possible that the Court could narrow Jacobson’s words that the Preamble is not a “source of any substantive power” so that this language only applies to cases where the Preamble is being used to expand the federal government’s enumerated powers or the powers of any of its departments, as granted expressly in the Constitution.

Distinguishing occurs when the Court does not apply past precedent because certain facts in the case make the best reading of the precedent inapplicable.[425] For example, in Tahoe-Sierra Preservation Council, Inc. v. Tahoe Regional Planning Agency, the Court rejected the proposition that a regulatory taking fell under the same analysis as a physical taking.[426] The Court explained, “[t]his longstanding distinction between acquisition of property for public use, on the one hand, and regulations prohibiting private uses, on the other, makes it inappropriate to treat cases involving physical takings as controlling precedents for the evaluation of a claim that there has been a regulatory taking, and vice versa.”[427] The Court here did not attempt to apply past precedent, as it normally does when it is narrowing; rather, it simply stated that the facts of the case do not fit within the precedent’s framework and disregarded it completely. Distinguishing Jacobson from most other cases in a similar manner would not be difficult, because the case can be easily limited to its facts regarding due process, state legislation, and police powers. But if the problematic language is going to be easily distinguished in virtually all cases, little value remains in retaining it, without further clarification of some kind.

Overturning a case is the Court’s most extreme option. In these cases, the Court does not attempt to navigate around the past precedent but simply rejects it and deems it no longer controlling. In Roper v. Simmons, the Court addressed the constitutionality of imposing the death penalty upon defendants who had committed a capital crime while they were juveniles.[428] The court acknowledged that it had previously addressed this question in Stanford v. Kentucky[429] and had deemed the practice constitutional.[430] However in Roper, the Court explained that Stanford “should be deemed no longer controlling on this issue” because times had changed.[431] Thus, the holding in Stanford is no longer binding or good law. This approach would not cleanly apply to Jacobson, since it correctly found that the Cambridge board of health had taken reasonable care and exercised amply due process in issuing its vaccination ordinance. Therefore, the outcome of that case need not be overturned.

Regarding dicta, when the Supreme Court expressly or implicitly rejects dicta, it becomes “dead dicta” and has no more controlling or persuasive authority.[432] In United States v. Salerno, the court identified and expressly rejected dicta from one of its earlier cases, Stack v. Boyle.[433] In Salerno, the constitutionality of the Bail Reform Act was challenged because it allowed a judge to take into account a defendant’s future dangerousness when setting bail.[434] Historically, a judge could set the bail amount based only on the flight risk a defendant posed and the Court, in Stack, had endorsed that limitation. The Stack court stated that “[b]ail set at a figure higher than an amount reasonably calculated [to ensure the defendant’s presence at trial] is ‘excessive’ under the Eighth Amendment.”[435] In rejecting that language, the Court in Salerno explained:

While we agree that a primary function of bail is to safeguard the courts’ role in adjudicating the guilt or innocence of defendants, we reject the proposition that the Eighth Amendment categorically prohibits the government from pursuing other admittedly compelling interests through regulation of pretrial release. The above-quoted dictum in Stack v. Boyle is far too slender a reed on which to rest this argument. The Court in Stack had no occasion to consider whether the Excessive Bail Clause requires courts to admit all defendants to bail, because the statute before the Court in that case in fact allowed the defendants to be bailed. Thus, the Court had to determine only whether bail, admittedly available in that case, was excessive if set at a sum greater than that necessary to ensure the arrestees’ presence at trial.[436]

Here the Court not only identifies and rejects its dicta in a previous case, it explains why it qualified as dicta. The language went beyond the specific question presented, and consequently the language was not controlling when the “very point [was] presented for a decision.”[437] In finding language to be dicta, the Court does not use language in a previous opinion to get around a problematical precedent, but essentially holds that the precedent does not exist. The Supreme Court has explained, “[w]e are not bound to follow our dicta in a prior case in which the point now at issue was not fully debated.”[438] Chief Justice Marshall established this point early on in Supreme Court jurisprudence when he stated,

[i]t is a maxim not to be disregarded, that general expressions, in every opinion, are to be taken in connection with the case in which those expressions are used. If they go beyond the case, they may be respected, but ought not to control the judgment in a subsequent suit when the very point is presented for decision.[439]

Statements within Supreme Court opinions that are found to be dicta are not controlling in subsequent cases if the point had not been “fully debated” or if the statement goes “beyond the case.” All of this applies to the Preamble language in Jacobson, since the issue was clearly raised by the parties in their briefs, but was not dealt with at all, let alone fully debated.

Dicta from the Supreme Court can also be “killed” by lower courts. In Bartkus v. Illinois, a defendant challenged his conviction on double jeopardy grounds.[440] He had been charged for the same crime under a federal and state robbery statute, but the Court rejected the claim under the dual sovereignty exception.[441]

However, after doing so, the Court went onto state:

The record . . . does not support the claim that the State of Illinois in bringing its prosecution was merely a tool of the federal authorities, who thereby avoided the prohibition . . . against a retrial of a federal prosecution after an acquittal. It does not sustain a conclusion that the state prosecution was a sham and a cover for a federal prosecution, and thereby in essential fact another federal prosecution.[442]

This language implied that if there had indeed been facts showing a “sham” prosecution, then the dual sovereignty exception may not have applied. Subsequent to this ruling, multiple circuit courts rejected the sham exception dicta. The Seventh Circuit stated its rejection poignantly, when it explained, “[i]n Bartkus the Supreme Court, in dicta, suggested that it would be impermissible for one sovereign to use the other as a tool to bring a successive prosecution, thereby making the second persecution a sham and a cover for the first prosecution . . . . [W]e have uniformly rejected such [a statement.]”[443] Multiple other circuits have also recognized this Court’s language as dicta and have declined to follow it.[444] Consequently, the effect of dicta—even Supreme Court dicta as in Jacobson—can be eliminated by a sufficient number of lower courts.

III.  The Preamble in the Twentieth Century

A.  Jacobson in the Federal Courts

Though Jacobson has been cited in a number of prominent Supreme Court cases,[445] the dicta concerning the Preamble and its place in constitutional jurisprudence has rarely been referenced explicitly or reinforced overtly.[446] More specifically, the Supreme Court rarely, if ever, has cited Jacobson for the idea that the Preamble cannot be used to make sense of the Constitution’s enumerated powers and limitations. To the contrary, members of the Court somewhat regularly—albeit often in dissenting and concurring opinions—mention the Preamble as if it can be used in support of their opinions or views.[447]

In lower courts, however, some opinions have cited Jacobson. Some cite its dicta in passing, while others discuss the role of the Preamble in adjudication more generally. All of these cases seem to treat Jacobson’s dicta as controlling authority, but most courts do not see Jacobson’s dismissal of the Preamble as useless rhetoric. Rather, they acknowledge Jacobson to argue that the Preamble does not confer any substantive powers on the federal government. Given the overall thesis that the Preamble does not grant substantive powers, but still may serve other legal roles, these circuit court opinions do not detract from our overall thesis.

Most cases that cite Jacobson usually use it to dismiss an argument that the Preamble somehow confers substantive powers or individual rights. For example, in Carter v. Carter Coal Co., the Court reasoned that Congress is a body endowed only with enumerated powers.[448] The Constitution’s drafters were careful when deciding what powers to give and not give Congress; they “made no grant of authority to Congress to legislate substantively for the general welfare, and no such authority exists, save as the general welfare may be promoted by the exercise of the powers which are granted.”[449] Though the Court cited Jacobson in support of this proposition, it did little more to expound on the Preamble’s relevancy.

In Tinsley v. Methodist Hospital of Indiana, Inc., the Seventh Circuit rejected the plaintiff’s constitutional claim. “According to Tinsley, Methodist Hospital denied her the ‘Blessings of Liberty’ and infringed her ‘general Welfare,’ thereby violating her constitutional rights.[450] But, according to this court, the Preamble “does not guarantee any rights; instead, it describes the goals and aspirations behind the text of the Constitution.”[451] The text of the Constitution, and not the Preamble, is the source of rights or restraints. Again, Jacobson served as nothing more than case support for the court’s limited analysis.

Jacobson has also been referenced to support a limited reading of state constitutional preambles. For example, in In re Opinion of the Justices, the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts responded to a request from the legislature regarding the constitutionality of pending legislation prohibiting married women from public service employment.[452] The court ultimately declared such laws were generally not constitutional, but before doing so, it addressed the specific question of whether the Preamble barred the state legislature from enacting the prohibitions.[453] “Without considering whether the Preamble constitutes either a grant of power or a limitation upon its exercise,” the justices quickly dismissed the question in the negative, in part relying on Jacobson and reasoning that “no grant of power or limitation thereon is to be found in the Preamble that is not embodied in the other provisions of the Constitution.”[454]

A few other courts have referred to Jacobson, but likewise do so only in passing.[455]

Two of the more prominent cases in which Jacobson is discussed and expounded upon are United States v. Kinnebrew Motor Co. and Hockett v. State Liquor Licensing Board. In Kinnebrew, the deciding court was asked to rule on the constitutionality of the National Industry Recovery Act. Under that Act, the President was vested with the power to establish codes fixing the prices of certain goods.[456] One such code established the price at which new cars could be sold, and Kinnebrew, an auto dealer, had allegedly sold a car at a different price.[457] The court ultimately concluded that the enforced code represented an exercise of “power not possessed by Congress nor contemplated by Congress in the National Industry Recovery Act.”[458] Ruling in the defendant’s favor, the court relied on Jacobson to reject the government’s argument that the Welfare Clause of the Preamble gave Congress certain powers. Speaking frankly, the court declared that there was “no such thing as the ‘Welfare Clause’ of the Constitution.”[459] Although the Preamble states that the Constitution was established to “Promote the general Welfare,” the court noted that in the Jacobson, the Supreme Court had rejected the idea that the Preamble could be supply the government with substantive powers.[460] And to the court, Jacobson’s Preamble analysis was more than just dicta; it “is the accepted construction placed upon the Preamble to the Constitution by our highest court.[461]

The Hockett court took a similar approach to the Preamble and Jacobson. There, the plaintiff alleged that a controversial “Home Rule Amendment,” which allowed local municipalities to regulate liquor, was unconstitutional.[462] As part of his argument, the plaintiff argued that the Welfare Clause of the Preamble nullified the amendment.[463] The court flatly disagreed with the plaintiff; it was “unable to find a single citation or authority which would authorize any court to declare any statute or provision of any state Constitution invalid because the same was held contrary and repugnant to the preamble of the federal Constitution.”[464] To the court, the Preamble was nothing more than a “generic” statement of “the great cardinal purposes of government.”[465] The court cited a number of authorities in support of this conclusion, including Jacobson, before concluding, “inasmuch as we have no delegation or denial of power in the preamble, how can it be said that any exercise of governmental power by the state by virtue of its state Constitution can be violative of any grant of power or denial of power in the preamble of the federal Constitution?[466] What follows is a discussion regarding the “spirit” of the Constitution, but suffice it to say that the court was unconvinced that the Preamble could be used to restrict the application of state constitutional amendments.

In Hart Coal Corp. v. Sparks, Jacobson was cited to support the court’s related, but independent, analysis. Defending against plaintiffs’ claims that certain orders passed in accordance with the National Industrial Recovery Act were unconstitutional, the government—in related actions—argued that its exercise of power was, among other things, “an exercise of the inherent power of the national government to accomplish the purposes set forth in the Preamble.”[467] The court dismantled this argument:

It would hardly seem necessary to demonstrate the fallacy of the claim that there is any inherent or general power unmentioned in the Constitution to accomplish the purposes set forth in the preamble to that instrument. It would seem perfectly apparent that the objects set forth in the preamble were intended by the fathers to be attained through the exercise of the powers granted to the national government in the Constitution; otherwise the national government is not one of limited delegated powers, but of unlimited powers, with Congress free to accomplish the purposes set out in the preamble in whatever way may appeal to the judgment of that body. Of course, the statement of this proposition carries with it its own refutation.[468]

Jacobson alone was then cited and quoted in support of this reasoning.[469]

While the foregoing survey of lower court usage of Jacobson seems to strengthen the precedential mandate of that case, it is remarkable that Jacobson has been conveniently ignored, rather than distinguished or overruled, in at least nine Supreme Court opinions since 1946, especially prominently in Goldberg v. Kelly, in which the Preamble added value to the Court’s opinion, but it was not discussed specifically.[470] In Douglas’s Doe v. Bolton concurrence, the Preamble was invoked as potentially speaking of certain rights that should be protected by the Ninth Amendment.[471] Although used most often in dissenting opinions, such references to the Preamble have not been thought to be precluded by Jacobson, as it is often not mentioned in these cases.[472] In certain cases, the Preamble serves in a role that goes beyond merely interpreting the meaning of other provisions in the body of the Constitution.[473] And this same pattern of simply ignoring Jacobson also appears in federal circuit court opinions[474] and district court opinions.[475] This vacuum may explain the sparse but steady stream of articles advocating possible substantive uses for the Preamble, based on its venerable history and utility, Jacobson notwithstanding.

B.  Legal Scholarship and the Preamble

In the aftermath of the overstatement of Jacobson in 1905, the Preamble has fared a better in the scholarly literature than it has in court, although not at first. As early as 1929, Willoughby’s treatise on Constitutional law absolutely stated “[t]hat the Preamble may not be resorted to as a source of Federal authority is so well established as scarcely to need the citation of authorities,” echoing the familiar line that its only value arises “in cases of ambiguity, where the intention of the framers does not clearly and definitely appear.”[476]

But after the heyday of the New Deal and the victories in World War II, people were beginning to expect something more from the Preamble, especially on the eve of the Civil Rights era. In 1953, Crosskey saw through the implications of empty rhetoric when he rightly observed: “[t]he suggestion that the preamble is ‘universally regarded as an empty verbal flourish’ seems plainly wrong.”[477] By the mid-1960s, many people had begun asking, “[w]ho are the ‘“People’” at the top of the Preamble?”[478]

Yet it was not until the late 1980s and early 1990s that a first wave of productive thinking began to roll in about the Preamble. In 1985, Sutherland’s Statutes and Statutory Construction began to be a little more encouraging and permissive about welcoming use of the Preamble. Although cautionary reservations and Jacobson’s dictum were not far behind: “When considering the purpose of the legislation, purposes stated in the preamble are entitled to weight, although they are not conclusive. . . . The function of the preamble is to supply reasons and explanations and not to confer power or determine rights. Hence it cannot be given the effect of enlarging the scope or effect of a statute,”[479] but “in case any doubt arises in the enacted part, the preamble may be resorted to help discover the intention of the law maker.”[480] Nevertheless, during the bicentennial of the drafting of the Constitution, instead of seeing the Preamble as the main interpretive guide to the purposes of the Constitution, a 1987 book argued that the Constitution must be understood in light of principles of the Declaration of Independence.[481]

By the early 1990s, the Cold War had ended and all the states in the former Soviet Union and its spheres of influence were vigorously engaged in the process of drafting and adopting constitutions. The developments of that time may have spawned a cluster of articles recognizing the foundational relevance and formative potentials of the Preamble. The first of this quartet was a remarkable plea in 1990 by Milton Handler and his coauthors for courts and legal authors to think again about the relevance and materiality of the Preamble. This legacy article, written by an emeritus law professor and two coauthors, argued that “the fate of the preamble in constitutional jurisprudence is inexplicably anomalous when compared to the well-established interpretive significance accorded preambles and preamble-like provisions in the construction of other legal instruments.”[482] Suggesting that all readers of the Constitution—whether explicit language “interpretivists,” ethical “contextualists,” or historical “originalists”—should find a common-law approach to the Preamble to be congenial, this dynamic and elastic approach would allow for “inclusion and exclusion, expansion and contraction, case-by-case determination” to “cope with new problems, arising at different times under ever-changing conditions and circumstances.”[483]

Despite these authors’ probing look at Jacobson, at the use of preambles in contracts and treaties, the principles and spirit of statutory construction, early American directives for construing the Constitution, and into some applications in four Constitutional areas, their conclusion, however, fades: “[i]f the preamble to the Constitution were given the status we advocate, the course of our constitutional jurisprudence would not change drastically,” for the Preamble makes no demands but simply “serves as a signpost, marking the course of constitutional common law.”[484] While the authors may have thought that this cautious understatement was necessary at that time to even get a foothold into the minds of people who thought that the classic statement in Jacobson rendered the Preamble completely insubstantial, it also might explain why this article did little to move the Preamble out of its relegated obscurity.

That same year, however, a stronger argument appeared, arguing for the concept of “unalienable right” as the footing beneath the Preamble and the spirit of the entire Constitution.[485]

Then two years later in 1992, Dan Himmelfarb produced a substantial work, concluding that “the best view probably lies somewhere between the ‘legal realist’ and ‘constitutional common law’ extremes (though closer to the former).[486] Himmelfarb’s treatment embraces Jacobson and favors a limited, non-originalist, role for the Preamble. He argued that the unique procedural stature of the Preamble makes it substantively unique and so different from the remainder of the document that it cannot be said to grant substantive rights.[487] His survey of the basic historical documents led him to conclude that the framers “gave little thought to the preamble,” which was neither debated nor voted on by the delegates of the Constitutional convention,[488] which means that that the drafters viewed it as something different from the actual Constitution.[489] He also argued that the Preamble is too vague to be of any use in interpretation, although recognizing that its phrases are just as “abstract and open-ended as the due process and equal protection clauses.”[490] Offering an extensive survey of the ways in which all of the phrases of the Preamble have been variously construed by courts, Himmelfarb saw the Preamble as having little value. Its terms are so broad that they “can be used to support both sides of almost any constitutional issue. This is so not only because the Preamble’s language is so abstract and open-ended, and hence susceptible of more than one plausible interpretation, but also because the six objects of government enumerated in the preamble are often in conflict.”[491] While the readings promoted by this article are not always persuasive, this study served a cautionary role in encouraging the many countries adopting constitutions at that time to be deliberate and explicit in the formulation and adoption of their naturally influential preambles.

Not dissuaded by any potential weaknesses in the Preamble, another article appeared the year later attempting to make strong use of the Preamble’s mention of “posterity” in opposing Roe v. Wade.[492] In 2000, a second article on the Preamble and the Ninth Amendment began to expand the Preamble’s value, seeing in it (in conjunction with specific amendments or provision) non-enumerated rights of the people, specifically rights of privacy.[493] Its author, Eric M. Axler, acknowledged the Supreme Court’s holding in Jacobson, while he (for the first time) questioned its validity.

In 2005, still deep in national traumas of 9/11, an article by Dean McGrath turned to the Preamble for power in mobilizing the war on terror.[494] In his article, McGrath emphasized that the Preamble provides useful insights into the aspirations of the Founders that can “guide our government in the use of its enumerated powers.”[495] As the war on terrorism then took the battle for freedom into political arenas in war-torn and politically unstable areas of the world, interest soared in preambles and their role in stabilizing popular, national governmentsLiav Orgad’s groundbreaking work on preambles in comparative constitutional law appeared in 2010,[496] followed soon by Justin Frosini’s treatise on the political and legal roles of preambles in constitutions around the world.[497]

At home in 2013, the health care battle raged, and liberal causes generally turned to the Declaration of the Independence—but also to the Preamble—for liberal equality.[498] Also that year, Kenneth Shuster, in an article discussing American’s right to health care, argued that a government attempting to bring about the Preamble’s mandatory purposes could not fail to provide health care for its citizenry.[499]

After the opening of the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia, with the words of the Preamble prominently lettered on its towering front wall, the tide seems to have shifted somewhat toward a recognition of stronger roles for Preamble. A recent three-part essay by Erwin Chemerinksy and Michael Stokes Paulsen about the Preamble, posted on the Center’s interactive text about the Preamble, may yet be strengthened, but still is helpful. For each of them, the Preamble embodies more than just “aspirations,” and the word “Preamble” means more than “an opening rhetorical flourish or frill without meaningful effect.”[500]  As they both agree, “[t]he boundaries of what may be said and done in the name of the Constitution are marked by the words, phrases, and structure of the document itself,” and they find little reason why the words of the Preamble, as part of the wording of the Constitution, should not be included in Constitutional analysis, as much as any other part of the Constitution.[501] Chemerinsky rightly laments that the Preamble’s role as a guide “has been largely ignored” and “overlooked,” but he concedes that Jacobson has firmly held that no laws can “be challenged or declared unconstitutional based on the Preamble” and that the Supreme Court has actually “denied its relevance to constitutional law.”[502] Paulsen sees even less daylight for the Preamble, other than in its formal role in enacting the written body of the Constitution by the people and in its limited legal force in assisting in interpreting the specific powers listed in the Articles.[503]

While differing on the exact role the phrases of the Preamble should play, scholars and many others agree that “[i]f the Preamble is read carefully and taken seriously, basic constitutional values can be found within it that should guide the interpretation of the Constitution.”[504] While contrary opinions exist, legal scholars in increasing numbers are expressing dissatisfaction with the lack of current use of the Preamble in constitutional interpretation. It has more valuable and important roles than are currently assigned or availed of by the courts, in the United States as well as abroad.

C.  Preambles in Comparative Constitutional Law

As Liav Orgad has rightly noted—and as this Article has sought to make clear—despite the Preamble’s legendary status, it has largely been ignored in the study of constitutional theory and interpretation.[505] But though ignored domestically, the Preamble has served as a template for several constitutional preambles across the globe.[506] And often, these prologues are substantively utilized in constitutional analysis. The following comparative constitutional survey suggests similar possibilities for the U.S. Preamble.

The United States was the first country to adopt a written constitution, let alone one with a preamble.[507] Of the almost 200 constitutions in nations around the world today, only about thirty-five have no preamble.[508] In many of these countries, preambles are not only used to aid courts in the task of constitutional interpretation, but serve as a source for un-enumerated rights.[509] A few questions can and should be asked regarding the preambles of other countries: Are they similar to the U.S. Preamble? Can these numerous preambles be categorized? Do these categorizations shape how preambles are viewed by adjudicative bodies? What sort of weight are preambles given by countries’ constitutional courts? Though the answers to these questions do not create legal mandates for how the United States should treat its Preamble, they give reason to reconsider the Preamble’s possible roles in federal constitutional law.

While it is clear that the United States Constitution has exerted influence in many countries, it is difficult to conclude how many preambles follow or share language found in the U.S. Preamble.[510] “We the People” is the most common phrase among preambles (found in 14.7% of all preambles).[511] “Establish justice” is used in the preambles of Iraq and Spain; “blessing of liberty” or “secure the blessings of liberty” appears in Argentina, Bhutan, Ghana, and Japan; the preambles of Argentina. Bhutan, the Philippines, and Venezuela use “ordain” as the performative verb of enactment. Many other close similarities can be found (e.g., many preambles include the word “justice”). While it is hard to categorize and capture all such relationships, the Preamble seems to be taken as an integral part of the substance of the Constitution when it is being used as a model.

Preambles vary significantly in length, language, and purpose. For example, the preamble of Greece is merely eighteen words.[512] In contrast, Iran’s preamble stretches on for 3,002 words.[513] Some preambles refer heavily to deity.[514] Others read as historical narratives.[515] Given this variety, it is difficult to categorize preambles.

That being said, a few attempts at classification have been made. Liav Orgad has grouped preambles into five categories: 1) preambles that concern the concept of sovereignty; 2) preambles that contain a historical narrative; 3) preambles that describe supreme goals; 4) preambles that establish national identity; and 5) preambles that discuss deity.[516] And Justin Frosini has categorized preambles into the following groups: 1) preambles that serve as a gateway of entry for other sources of law; 2) preambles that stress the sovereignty of the people; 3) preambles that establish the form of state and form of government; 4) preambles rich in historical references; 5) preambles that reference God; and 6) preambles that establish territorial identity.[517] As Professor Frosini rightly notes, many preambles will fall into multiple categories,[518] not only due to ambiguity but also because some clearly serve more than one of these purposes. He adds, “[t]he truth of the matter is that these classifications are useful for knowing more about what preambles contain, but their usefulness essentially stops there,”[519] for it does not appear that a preamble’s language or length significantly shapes what weight preambles are given by societies and courts.[520]

Though a preamble’s classification may do little to uncover its relevancy to the courts, some of their identifiable functions are clearly substantively legal. A review of select countries’ constitutional decisions quickly reveals that some courts place significant legal emphasis on preambles in deciding questions of constitutionality, and that “preambles do not simply contain flowery introductory language, but are present to remind the reader why the constitution was approved in the first place.”[521]

1.  South Africa

South Africa’s current constitution was adopted in 1996, replacing the 1993 interim constitution. The newer constitution contains a provision that requires courts to “promote the values that underlie an open and democratic society based on human dignity, equality and freedom” when interpreting the Bill of Rights.[522] A similar aim is discussed in the 1996 and 1993 preambles,[523] and both preambles have been given authoritative weight by the South African Constitutional Court.[524] For example, in Mhlungu—referencing the 1993 preamble—Justice Sachs stated:

The Preamble in particular should not be dismissed as a mere aspirational and throat-clearing exercise of little interpretive value. It connects up, reinforces and underlies all of the text that follows. It helps to establish the basic design of the Constitution and indicate its fundamental purposes.[525]

In Makwanyane, where the court struck down capital punishment as unconstitutional, the court reaffirmed this principle:

In broad terms, the function given to this court by the Constitution is to articulate the fundamental sense of justice and right shared by the whole nation as expressed in the text of the Constitution. . . . The preamble, postamble and the principles of freedom and equality espoused in sections 8, 33 and 35 of the Constitution, require such an amplitude of vision.[526]

South Africa’s preamble sets forth a paramount agenda for the government. The constitutional court will no doubt be asked in future cases to measure the strengths and weaknesses of many claims based on its mandates. Those opinions may well show how preambles can be judicially used for controlling legal guidance in developing an explicit and more perfecting preamble jurisprudence.

2.  Germany

Although the preamble to Gundgesetz, the constitution of the Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany), plays a lesser role in German constitutional interpretation, it has been used to support court holdings. Quite early in its history, the German Court held that the Basic Law’s preamble was binding and justiciable law. In 1956, for instance, the Court held the concluding line of this preamble, which called upon “the entire German people . . . to accomplish, by free self-determination, the unity and freedom of Germany”[527] to constitute a formal “reunification command” (Wiedervereinigungsgebot) that was binding on all organs of government.[528] In 1973, the Court clarified that the preamble required the federal government to make reunification an explicit, non-negotiable aim of its foreign policy.[529] Even before the Berlin Wall came down, the Court similarly invoked the preamble in support of its holding that anyone holding German citizenship in the German Democratic Republic (East Germany) was a “German citizen” under the West German constitution as well.[530]

Although German reunification is now a well-established fact, the Court continues to invoke the preamble as binding law in other contexts such as European integration. In 2009, the Court referenced the preamble and thereby reasoned that it was the will of the German people to be part of the EU. Relevant language in the preamble included: “not only the moral basis of responsible self-determination but also the willingness to serve world peace as an equal partner of a united Europe.”[531] Relying on that language, the Court determined that Germany’s constitution and the Treaty of Lisbon (clarifying and solidifying the basis for the European Union) were not in conflict, alieving Germany of the need to pursue a constitutional amendment.[532]

3.  India

The Supreme Court of India has regularly turned to its preamble to make sense of its constitution. When the preamble was adopted, one of the members of the Assembly, Thakurdas Bhargava, famously said, “[t]he Preamble is the most precious part of the Constitution. It is the soul of the Constitution. It is a key to the Constitution. It is a jewel set in the Constitution.”[533]

As a general rule of interpretation, India’s Supreme Court has announced that “if the terms used in any of the articles in the Constitution are ambiguous or are capable of two meanings, in interpreting them some assistance may be sought in the objectives enshrined in the preamble.”[534] In the lengthy opinion of Kesavananda, the court detailed the basic structures of the constitution en route to holding that constitutional amendments were subject to judicial review.[535] As part of his opinion, Chief Justice Sikri contrasted statutory preambles in general with the Constitution’s preamble:

Regarding the use which can be made of the preamble in interpreting an ordinary statute, there is no doubt that it cannot be used to modify the language if the language of the enactment is plain and clear. If the language is not plain and clear, then the preamble may have effect either to extend or restrict the language used in the body of an enactment. . . .

We are, however, not concerned with the interpretation of an ordinary statute. As Sir Alladi Krishnaswami, a most eminent lawyer said, “so far as the Preamble is concerned, though in an ordinary statute we do not attach any importance to the Preamble, all importance has[] to be attached to the Preamble in a Constitutional statute.” Our Preamble outlines the objectives of the whole Constitution. It expresses “what we had thought or dreamt for so long.”[536]

The Chief Justice continued: “[i]t seems to me that the Preamble of our Constitution is of extreme importance and the Constitution should be read and interpreted in the light of the grand and noble vision expressed in the Preamble.”[537]

Although foreign judicial decisions such as these do not bind the courts of the United States, the fact that so many countries find value and responsibility in emphasizing the preamble in their constitutional jurisprudence gives good reason for the people of the United States to pause and ask if federal and state courts in the United States might not do well to follow suit. Claimants and litigants should have confidence in making well-reasoned arguments based on the Preamble and on the meanings of its words as recognized by historical considerations, ordinary language analysis, and established judicial precedents. Such argumentation style is common around the globe. There is no reason it should not become more welcomed and commonplace in America, of all places, where the idea of a constitutional preamble was born.

IV.  Taking the Preamble More Seriously

The impetus behind this article was to critique the 1905 Supreme Court decision in Jacobson v. Massachusetts and how it has been generally interpreted. For many reasons, including those which that court could have and should have thought of, its dicta that the Preamble makes no substantive legal contribution to the Constitution should be expressly corrected and counteracted. Its oft-quoted mantra should not be allowed to chill the numerous important legal uses that the Preamble was intended to serve in Constitutional law and politics.

There can be no question that the Preamble has been largely ignored, and it is rarely cited or discussed in legal literature. As Akhil Amar has lamented, “[t]he modern Supreme Court has had almost nothing to say about the Preamble, and modern law students likewise skate past this text with Olympic speed. Earlier generations paid far more attention to the document’s grand opening.”[538] “By lavishing some fifty pages on a single constitutional sentence,” Amar hoped, as do I, “to restore the Preamble to its proper place as the Founder’s foundation.”[539] It is much more than window-dressing, empty rhetoric, or vague aspirational idealism. This study has so demonstrated, using a number of approaches: historical; textual; political; judicial; linguistic; religious; rhetorical; and comparative.

A.  Legal Roles of the Preamble in Constitutional Law

Throughout this article, several possible legal roles for the Preamble have been identified or intimated. Some are obvious, others not so obvious. Some were intended by the framers, others have come to light as times and needs have changed. The possibility of actualizing any of these legal roles exposes the short-shrift given to the Preamble by the Jacobson court. Briefly drawn together, the Preamble can and should serve many legal functions.

In a clarifying or interpretive role, it serves as “a signpost, marking the course of constitutional common law.” All words in the Constitution are potentially ambiguous; they need context and purpose in order for their meanings to be discerned and for the living spirit of Constitution to be “construed dynamically.”[540] Where else is that spirit and its principles to be found except in the Preamble?

At the same time, each term in the Constitution must at some point also be constrained. Definitions—by definition—must go far enough, but not too far. The Preamble establishes a defining list of purposes that restrain how constitutional powers should or should not be applied in order to accomplish the purposes of the Constitution. As a mission statement, the Preamble sets forth the overriding purposes and undergirding foundations for the government of the United States of America, stating what the nation as a whole stands for.

In the Preamble’s limiting function, any interpretation of any section of the Constitution not consonant with this key should be resisted. In this regard, the Preamble limits what can be done. These tasks, and no more, are the duties that the federal government is charged to accomplish, and the people have committed themselves to support.

Because all the purposes set forth in the Preamble are, in theory, equally important, the Preamble also sets forth the elements of a legally balancing function. Public actions in support of one of the Preamble’s purposes should not to impinge unnecessarily or improperly on its other purposes. Just as every word of the Constitution carries weight, so does every word of the Preamble.

Recognizing that polarization is natural in the world—hot and cold, left and right, states and union, the individual and the majority—the Preamble sets out to harmonize a matrix of competing civic virtues and values. Its more perfect union embraces both defense and welfare, justice and compassion, individual liberty and general order, present needs and future well-being, inherent rights and legislative determinations. This coalescing is found in the connective tissues, channels, and bridges implicit in the Preamble.

Serving a uniting function, the Preamble puts in first place the overriding goal of creating “one out of many” (e pluribus unum). As the word “union” denotes, a union must somehow unite previously disparate parts; and as the word “parties” connotes, parties are only parts of a whole, partial, incomplete, and partisan. Both the one and the many are essential.

The Preamble engenders this unity by its performative function. Its enacting speech-act does something more than simply declare. By it the People bind and commit themselves to each other. By it, they ordain. By it, they establish the United States of America for these specific purposes.

And in doing this, the Preamble serves obliging functions. It obligates all its parties: the people, as they act individually and collectively; the states, as they ratify; and the entrusted officers of the federal government, as they undertake the charge given them to accomplish these purposes. The words “in order to” introduce the specific purposes that are to be achieved by the federal government. The Preamble can thus be understood as a quasi-Bill of Duties. Just as there are no rights without powers, and no powers without duties, the Bill of Rights presupposes a set of correlative duties.[541]

Even should the Preamble not bestow, in so many words, enumerated substantive powers upon any branch of government, it serves a guiding purpose, directing and ensuring that the legitimate objectives of government are achieved, as well as the good conduct and civic sentiments of every citizen and public servant. Not insignificantly, the Preamble stands as the creative beginning of the Constitution, just as the fulfilling Bill of Rights comes at its end.

In addition to these formative functions, the Preamble also serves persuasive functions. It is more than a single-phrase motto or bumper sticker. It engenders cohesion. All can all look at the Preamble, and at each other, in the United States and say this is who we are and what we are striving to achieve together. Preambles serve to motivate, inspire, and focus people on good purposes. As Plato expounded, every constitution of any city-state—both the permanent body of laws and the individual subdivisions”—must be supplied with preambles; preambles should not be dictatorial nor prescriptive, but persuasive, so as “to make the person to whom the legislator promulgated his law accept his orders.”[542]

As the primary self-expression of the people, the Preamble serves to shape the national character, to build civic identity, and to define citizen rights and duties. Its ennobling and hopeful spirits are the values of civic virtue which are taken for granted in its communitarian words such as “we the people,” “perfect union,” “common,” “general,” and “and our posterity.” The importance of public virtue was persuasively acknowledged by Aristotle, John Locke, John Winthrop, Adam Smith, Thomas Jefferson, Joseph Smith, and Abraham Lincoln.[543] Thus, the Preamble should be taught, memorized, and implemented in public schools at all levels. In the Preamble, civic virtue is prominently on display. It should well be posted on governmental buildings, civic monuments, post offices, and all kinds of public facilities.

B.  Responding to Objections against Legal Roles for the Preamble

Of course, despite these many legal purposes, objections can be (and have been) raised against seeing the Preamble as a legal part of the Constitution. These detractions, however, are not dispositive.

The Preamble was a brilliant headline to the Constitution and should be counted today as an integral part of the Constitution.[544] Justice Harlan, however, declined to “exert any power . . . unless, apart from the Preamble, it be found in some express delegation of power or in some power to be properly implied therefrom,”[545] as if the Preamble were not a part of the Constitution. But it is possible that the purposes of the Preamble might properly serve as the basis for defining implied powers necessary and proper to accomplish the purposes to be achieved through the use of powers granted in the Articles of the Constitution.[546] What these implied powers or duties might look like is hard to imagine, since we have not even entertained this possibility. Might we come to realize that we have been playing card games with only forty-six cards in our deck?

The assertion that the Preamble is not law and is not “the source of any substantive power”[547] should also be rethought. This objection derives from the restricted views of legal positivism and legal realism that prevailed at the beginning of the twentieth century. Of course, the Preamble is not a set of commands issued by a sovereign coupled with sanctions—the rubric used at that time to define “law.” The concept of law today, however, is seen as broader and more complex than was assumed under the rigidity of legal realism at the time of Jacobson. The Americans’ understanding of law and nature in 1787, however, was “considerably richer, more subtle, and more informed by experience” than was the more strictly rational theories that guided the French Revolution[548] or views of the early twentieth century. Of necessity, the objectives of the Preamble need to be read in concert with the powers granted in the Articles of the Constitution, but at the same time, so should the enumerated powers not be read except in conjunction with the legitimizing objectives undertaken in the Preamble. Textual interpretation should be based, first and foremost, on the text itself. The burden of persuasion should fall on the party arguing that the Preamble should be ignored. The presumption should run in favor of the Preamble’s relevance, even if the weight it should bear remains to be determined.[549]

Anti-Federalists and others in the ratification debates feared that the Constitution would give too much power to the central government, and that the Preamble would only open the floodgates of power further.[550] Logically, those concerns assumed that the Preamble would have some legal role that could (like any other provision of the Constitution) be overextended. But practically, those worries have not materialized. Giving the Preamble its rightful role need not open any floodgates of judicial over-expansionism or turn the law into a “purposivists’ playground,” for permissible readings of ambiguous terms cannot go beyond meanings “that they cannot bear.”[551] Any powers implied from or imputed to the Preamble only need to be recognized commensurate with the duties it articulates, and seeing the Preamble as limiting the purposes of the United States to its expressly stated goals also guards against it overstepping its stated roles. Thus, this objection is far from establishing that the Preamble should play no legal role at all. Indeed, as the key of the Constitution,” the Preamble was counted on to serve several legal purposes. If any government action contradicted the general principles announced in the Preamble, it was to be seen as ineffectual and resisted as unconstitutional.

Some have wished that the Preamble was based more on factual “whereas” clauses.[552] But the Preamble is what we have to work with. Introductions to several other constitutions in the world are based more on factual “whereas” clauses. But it has been argued that factually based preambles can be more problematic than general preambles: “The fact is that unwritten constitutions often give rise to less argument than those that are written down. It is easier to prove an antecedent fact than to discern the intention of a legislator and the spirit of the written law.”[553]

Others might object that the terms of the Preamble are too vague, broad, and general to be of legal value, but these concepts are no broader than the ideas of equal protection, separation of powers, due process, free speech, establishment of religion, and many other Constitutional terms. The semantic range of each noun and verb in the Preamble has a discernable linguistic history and a contained legal pedigree to be studied and explicated. Over the course of the past century, Constitutional law has developed workable definitions for many terms relating to civil rights. One should expect it to take a similar time to develop a jurisprudence of the Preamble. Accomplishing that end will not be easy, but it will happen only if the nation keeps that goal clearly in sight. Even if we wander around a bit, one does not throw a compass away just because it only points in one orienting direction.

In sum, the Preamble was carefully composed to include each of its fifty-two words. It served as the unifying legal banner raised confidently and decisively in 1787. Its principles reverberate through the preambles of states and nations around the world. It should not be forgotten or ignored.

 


[*] *.. Robert K. Thomas University Professor of Law at the BYU J. Reuben Clark Law School and Distinguished Scholar in Residence at the University of Southern California. He recognizes his law assistants Andrew Hoffman, Morgan Hoffman, and Brenden Stuart for their excellent research, writing, and analytic insights.

[†] †.. Law and Corpus Linguistics Fellow at the BYU J. Reuben Clark Law School. He recognizes his law assistant, Jacob Crump, for his contributions and support.

 [1]. See infra text accompanying note 46.

 [2]. See, e.g., James Monroe, Observations on the Federal Government, in 1 The Writings of James Monroe 349, 356 (Stanislaus Murray Hamilton ed., 1898).

 [3]. See infra Section I.G.

 [4]. Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11 (1905).

 [5]. See infra notes 445–75 and accompanying text (discussing Jacobson’s effects).

 [6]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 22 (emphasis added).

 [7]. See infra notes 445–75 and accompanying text (discussing Jacobson’s effects).

 [8]. See infra Section I.H. and accompanying notes.

 [9]. Monroe, supra note 2, at 356.

 [10]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 22.

 [11]. Articles of Confederation of 1781.

 [12]. See Gregory E. Maggs, A Concise Guide to the Articles of Confederation as a Source for Determining the Original Meaning of the Constitution, 85 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 397, 403 (2017) (discussing the process by which the Articles came to be).

 [13]. There is some debate as to exactly when the Articles of Confederation ceased functioning as law. Compare Vasan Kesavan, When Did the Articles of Confederation Cease to be Law?, 78 Notre Dame L. Rev. 35, 44 (2002), with Gary Lawson & Guy Seidman, When Did the Constitution Become Law?, 77 Notre Dame L. Rev. 1, 4 (2001).

 [14]. Articles of Confederation of 1781, art. III.

 [15]. Id. art. I.

 [16]. Id. art. III (emphasis added).

 [17]. Id.

 [18]. Id. art. II.

 [19]. Id. art. VI.

 [20]. Id. art. VIII (emphasis added); see id. art VII.

 [21]. Id. art. V–VII; id. art. IX.

 [22]. Id. art. IX, §. 2.

 [23]. Id. art. XIII (emphasis added).

 [24]. The Constitution’s Preamble itself makes this purpose clear when it states, “in order to form a more perfect union.” U.S. Const. pmbl. See also 1 The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787 20 (Max Farrand ed., rev. ed. 1966) (1911).

 [25]. See generally Articles of Confederation of 1781.

 [26]. See, e.g., N.Y. Const. of 1777, art. XVII (establishing the executive branch); id. art. XXIV–XXXII (establishing rules and guidelines governing the judicial branch).

 [27]. This power was specifically reserved for the states. Articles of Confederation of 1781, art. VIII, § 2 (stating that taxes were to be “levied by the authority and direction of the legislatures of the several states”).

 [28]. See Keith L. Dougherty, Collective Action Under the Articles of Confederation 51, 175–76 (2001).

 [29]. Id. at 80.

 [30]. 1 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 24, at 20 (quoting from the document commonly referred to as “The Virginia Plan”).

 [31]. Articles of Confederation of 1781, art. III.

 [32]. U.S. Const. pmbl.

 [33]. 2 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, at 95 (Max Farrand ed., rev. ed. 1966) (1911).

 [34]. William Ewald, The Committee on Detail, 28 Const. Comment. 197, 203 (2012). See also Philadelphia: July 30, 1787, Pa. Packet and Daily Advertiser, July 30, 1787, at 3.

 [35]. Ewald, supra note 34, at 202.

 [36]. 2 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 33, at 177.

 [37]. Id. at 193. See also id. at 196, 209.

 [38]. 2 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 33, at 137–38.

 [39]. Dan Himmelfarb, The Preamble in Constitutional Interpretation, 2 Seton Hall Const. L.J. 127, 132–33 n.16 (1991).

 [40]. 2 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 33, at 138.

 [41]. Id. at 553 (“A Committee was then appointed . . . to revise the stile of and arrange the articles which had been agreed to by the House.”).

 [42]. See September 12 Draft of the Constitution, U.S. Const., https://www.usconstitution
.net/draft_sep12.html (last visited Sept. 12, 2018).

 [43]. See 2 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 33, at 553.

 [44]. Raymond B. Marcin, ‘Posterity’ in the Preamble and a Positivist Pro-Life Position, 38 Am. J. Juris. 273, 285 (1993).

 [45]. 2 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 33, at 590.

 [46]. Id.

 [47]. 1 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 24, at 33.

 [48]. “[T]he ‘thin’ Constitution of the United States is anchored in the principles of the Declaration of Independence and the preamble.” Liav Orgad, The Preamble in Constitutional Interpretation, 8 Int’l J. Const. L. 714, 721 (2010) (citing Mark Tushnet, Taking the Constitution Away from the Courts 181–82, 188–93 (1999)).

 [49]. U.S. Const. pmbl. In contrast, the Articles of Confederation began, “We, the undersigned Delegates.” Articles of Confederation of 1781, pmbl.

 [50]. The Declaration of Independence para. 2 (U.S. 1776). See also Himmelfarb, supra note 39, at 132 n.13.

 [51]. Mahoney, Preamble, in 3 Encyclopedia of the American Constitution 1435 (L. Levy et al. eds., 1986).

 [52]. Articles of Confederation of 1781, art. III.

 [53]. Himmelfarb, supra note 39, at 134 n.20.

 [54]. 1 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 24, at 133 (declaring that the “objects of the Union” were “1. defence agst. foreign danger. 2. agst. internal disputes & a resort to force. 3. Treaties with foreign nations 4. regulating foreign commerce, & drawing revenue from it”).

 [55]. Id. at 134.

[Mr. Madison] differed from . . . Mr. Sherman[] in thinking the objects mentioned to be all the principal ones that required a National Govt. Those were certainly important and necessary objects; but he combined with them the necessity, of providing more effectually for the security of private rights, and the steady dispensation of Justice. Interferences with these were evils which had more perhaps than anything else, produced this convention.

Id.

 [56]. Himmelfarb, supra note 39, at 134 n. 20.

 [57]. 1 The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, supra note 24, at 19 (“[Under the Articles of Confederation, the] federal government could not check the quarrals [sic] between states, nor a rebellion in any not having constitutional power Nor means to interpose according to the exigency.”).

 [58]. See generally Pa. Const. of 1776.

 [59]. Id. pmbl.; id. art. I, § 14.

 [60]. Mass. Const. of 1780 pmbl. (emphasis added).

 [61]. Vt. Const. of 1786 pmbl. (emphasis added).

 [62]. N.C. Const. of 1776; Pa. Const. of 1776; Va. Const. of 1776.

 [63]. Pa. Const. of 1776 pmbl.

 [64]. Mass. Const. of 1780, art. XVII. Cf. N.C. Const. of 1776 (discussing defense as something the constitution helps provide for); Pa. Const. of 1776 (same); Va. Const. of 1776 (same).

 [65]. See generally Mass. Const. of 1780; Md. Const. of 1776; Pa. Const. of 1776; Va. Const. of 1776.

 [66]. For example, in Connecticut, the 1662 grant by King Charles II began with a whereas clause recognizing such things as the good behavior of his loving servants. Charter of Connecticut, in Federal and State Constitutions 1:529 (Francis Thorpe ed. rev. ed. 1993) (1909). Similarly, in Pennsylvania, the 1696 official declaration entitled “Frame of Government” began with a whereas that some people cannot, for conscience sake, take an oath. Id. at 5:3070.

 [67]. Seven of the original state constitutions began in this way, namely Georgia (1777), New York (1777), North Carolina (1776), New Hampshire (1776), New Jersey (1776), Pennsylvania (1776), and South Carolina (1776 and 1778), all presenting lists of all kinds of infractions and grievances.

 [68]. Charter of Del. (1701) (to provide “the greatest enjoyment of civil liberties”); Frame of Government of Pa. (1682) (stating in its preface that God had chosen man “his Deputy to rule . . . but lust prevailing against duty” it became fitting “to terrify evil doers” and “to cherish those that do well”); The Fundamental Agreements of the Freeholders, and Inhabitants of the Province of West N.J. (1681) (“[F]or the preservation of the peace and tranquility.”); The Fundamental Orders of Conn. (1638) (“[T]o maintain and preserve the liberty and purity of the gospel.”).

 [69]. Nine states included statements of such purposes and objectives. Ga. Const. of 1777 (“[B]est conduce to the happiness and safety of their constituents in particular and America in general.”); Md. Const. of 1776 (“[F]or the sure foundation and more permanent security thereof . . . [and] founded in compact only, and instituted solely for the good of the whole.”); N.J. Const. of 1776 (“[M]ore effectually to unite the people and enable them to exert their whole force in their own necessary defence.” (emphasis added)); N.C. Const. of 1776 (establishing civil and criminal rights “to preserve the blessings of liberty” that are “most conducive to their happiness and prosperity”) (emphasis added); Pa. Const. of 1776 (asserting “our indispensable duty to establish such original principles of government, as will best promote the general happiness of the people of this state,” “instituted for the common benefit, protection and security of the people, nation or community; and not for the particular emolument or advantage of any single man . . .”) (emphasis added); S.C. Const. of 1776 (“[F]or the good of the people [who are] the origin and end of all governments, for regulating the internal polity of this colony.”); N.Y. Const. of 1777 (“[T]o secure the rights and liberties of the good people of this State, most conducive of the happiness and safety of their constituents in particular, and of America in general.”) (emphasis added); Mass. Const. of 1780 (“[T]o secure the existence of the body-politic, to protect it; and to furnish the individuals who compose it, with the power of enjoying, in safety and tranquility, their natural rights, and the blessings of life.”) (emphasis added). Of the remaining states, three did not adopt a constitution before 1787.

 [70]. N.C. Const. of 1776, art. I, § XXXV (“[A] frequent recurrence to fundamental principles is absolutely necessary, to preserve the blessings of liberty.”) (emphasis added); Mass. Const. of 1780, pmbl. (“The end of the . . . government, is to secure . . ., to protect . . ., to furnish . . . . It is the duty of the people, therefore, . . . to provide for an equitable mode of making laws . . . that every man may, at all times, find his security in them.”).

 [71]. Ga. Const. of 1777. See also N.Y. Const. of 1777.

 [72]. Mass. Const. of 1780 pmbl.

 [73]. Md. Const. of 1776. See also Mass. Const. of 1780 (“[I]t is a social compact, by which the whole people covenants with each citizen, and each citizen with the whole people, that all shall be governed by certain laws for the common good. . . . We, therefore, the people of Massachusetts . . . ordain and establish the following.”); N.C. Const. of 1776 (“[A]ll political power is vested in and derived from the people only.”); Pa. Const. of 1776 (“[T]he people of this State have the sole, exclusive and inherent right of governing.”).

 [74]. Del. Const. of 1776 (“representatives being chosen by the Freemen”); Ga. Const. of 1777 (“representative of the people, from whom all power originates, and for whose benefit all government is intended”); N.H. Const. of 1776 (“members of the Congress of New Hampshire, chosen and appointed by the free suffrages of the people of said colony”); N.J. Const. of 1776 (“[W]e, the representatives of the colony of New Jersey, having been elected by all the counties.”).

 [75]. Mass. Const. of 1776.

 [76]. Const. for the Council and Assembly in Va. (1621) (invoking “divine assistance”); Fundamental Orders of Conn. (1639) (invoking the “name of God”).

 [77]. N.H. Const. of 1776 (“[A] recommendation to that purpose having been transmitted to us from the said [Continental] Congress.”); N.J. Const. of 1776 (“[A]s the honorable the continental Congress, the supreme Council of the American colonies, has advised . . . .”); S.C. Const. of 1778 (being “dissolved by the declaration of the honorable the Continental Congress”).

 [78]. Fundamental Orders of Conn. (1639) (“for posterity”); The Fundamental Agreements of the Freeholders, and Inhabitants of the Province of West N.J. (1681) (“for the good and welfare of our posterity to come . . . to us and our posterity”).

 [79]. Conn. Charter of 1662 (“perpetual Succession . . . for us, our heirs and successors”); The Fundamental Constitutions of Carolina (1669) (“ourselves, our heirs and successors, in the most binding ways that can be devised”); Charter of Del. (1701) (“heirs and assigns forever”).

 [80]. Pa. Const. of 1776.

 [81]. Va. Const. of 1776 (emphasis added).

 [82]. Ga. Const. of 1777 (noting rights to be protected by the “future government of this State”).

 [83]. Conn. Charter of 1662 (“we will and ordain . . . do declare and appoint”); N.C. Const. of 1776 (“do declare . . . shall be established”); Pa. Const. of 1776 (“do . . . ordain, declare, and establish”); Ga. Const. of 1777 (“ordain and declare”); N.Y. Const. of 1777 (“this convention . . . doth ordain, determine, and declare”); Mass. Const. of 1780 (“We, therefore, the people of Massachusetts . . . do agree upon, ordain, and establish the following.”).

 [84]. James H. Hutson, Religion and the Founding of the American Republic 55–57, 121–30 (1998); Patrick M. O’Neil, Bible in American Law, in Religion and American Law 30, 30 (Paul Finkelman ed., 2000).

 [85]. John W. Welch, Biblical Law in America: Historical Perspectives and Potentials for Reform, 2002 BYU L. Rev., 611, 620–29 (2002). On the influence of biblical law on American law, see John W. Welch, Bible in American Law, in Encyclopedia of American Civil Liberties 125, 125–31 (2006); Edward McGleynn Gaffney, Jr., The Interaction of Biblical Religion and American Constitutional Law, in The Bible in American Law, Politics, and Political Rhetoric 89 (James Turner Johnson ed., 1985).

 [86]. James H. Hutson, Church and State in America: The First Two Centuries 101, 103 (2008).

 [87]. Hutson, Religion and the Founding, supra note 84, at 85 (document illustration and caption).

 [88]. The Tocqueville Reader: A Life in Letters and Politics 63 (2002).

 [89]. James H. Hutson, The Founders on Religion: A Book of Quotations 23, 26 (2005).

 [90]. Id. at 32–33, 36–37.

 [91]. Harry S. Stout, Rhetoric and Reality in the Early Republic, in Religion and American Politics: From the Colonial Period to the Present 65, 69 (2007).

 [92]. Genesis 1:2; id. 2:7, 19. All biblical references are to the King James Bible, the version used almost universally in the late eighteenth century.

 [93]. Deuteronomy 32:18.

 [94]. Isaiah 44:21; id. 45:7, 18; id. 49:5.

 [95]. Form v.t., Noah Webster, 1 American Dictionary of the English Language 86 (1828) (emphasis in original). By 1828, additional meanings of the verb “form” included other associated preamble words, such as “to unite individual into a collective body,” “to establish,” “to enact,” “to ordain; as, to form a law or an edict.” Id.

 [96]. E.g., Jeremiah 33:2. See also James Strong, The Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible 311 (1890).

 [97]. Establish, v.t., Webster, supra note 97. The biblical instance cited is “I will establish my covenant with him for an everlasting covenant.” Genesis 17 (emphasis in original).

 [98]. Strong, supra note 96, at 558; Webster, supra note 95 (using no biblical examples in defining “justice,” but rather remaining strictly legal, defining it along Classical lines as either distributive or commutative).

 [99]. Genesis 18:19 (ṣedekah and mishpat); Deuteronomy 16:20 (sedekah sedekah—“justice, justice” in the Hebrew— and dikaiōs to dikaion diōxēi—“pursue justice justly” in the LXX Greek).

 [100]. Matthew 5:48. Two of the four definitions given by Webster for “perfect” as an adjective come from the Bible, in Matthew 5:48, and 2 Corinthians 12:9, “made perfect in weakness.” As a verb, the first meaning for Webster came from 2 Chronicles 8:16, “[s]o the house of the Lord was perfected,” speaking of the central public institution in ancient Israel.

 [101]. Ephesians 4:13.

 [102]. Acts 24:22.

 [103]. Hebrews 9:11.

 [104]. Psalms 133:1.

 [105]. Ephesians 4:13.

 [106]. John 17:23.

 [107]. Union, Noah Webster, 2 American Dictionary of the English Language (1828) gives eight meanings, one going back to the Union of Scotland and England in 1707 and another detailing the three ways in which two or more churches could be combined or consolidated into one.

 [108]. See Acts 2:44; id. 4:32.

 [109]. See, e.g., Genesis 49:25–26; Leviticus 26; Deuteronomy 28:2; Joshua 8:34; Proverbs 10:6, 28:20.

 [110]. For dozens of examples from biblical passages, see, for example, Bless, v.t., Webster, supra note 95 and Blessing, n., Webster, supra note 95.

 [111]. William Shakespeare, Cymbeline act 3, sc. 1. “You must know, till the injurious Romans did extort this tribute from us, we were free. We do say to Caesar, our ancestor was that Mulmutius which ordained our laws,” the first King of Britain. Id.

 [112]. Ordain, v.t., Webster, supra note 95 (citing biblical passages in Mark 3 and Isaiah 30, among others).

 [113]. See Psalms 81:5.

 [114]. Isaiah 26:12.

 [115]. E.g., Genesis 45:7; Amos 4:2; Psalms 49:13.

 [116]. Genesis 22:17, 32:12. The human race was regularly referred to as “the posterity of Adam.”

 [117]. The Liberty Bell, Nat’l Park Serv., https://www.nps.gov/inde/learn/historyculture/stories-libertybell.htm (last visited Sept. 12, 2018) (quoting Leviticus 25:10).

 [118]. See id. 25:14, 25:27–28, 25:35, 25:39–42.

 [119]. The six central lines in the Preamble can be seen as a list of extended parallel alternates, and the overall framework hints at being faintly chiastic: (a) United States, (b) establish, (c) insure, (d) provide / / (d) promote, (c) secure, (b) establish, (a) United States. These stylistic flavors facilitate memorization.

 [120]. Letter from George Washington to John Jay (Mar. 10, 1787), in Christian G. Fritz, American Sovereigns: The People and America’s Constitutional Tradition Before the Civil War 131 n. 34 (2008).

 [121]. Id. at 131.

 [122]. See discussion infra Section I.I; infra notes 203–68 and accompanying text.

 [123]. For a persuasive historical analysis of “rights as moral powers” in connection with political thought at the time of the drafting of the Constitution, see James H. Hutson, Forgotten Features of the Founding: The Recovery of Religious Themes in the Early American Republic 73–110 (2003), which is summarized, paraphrased, and quoted in the following paragraphs.

 [124]. Id. at 76.

 [125]. Id. at 76–77.

 [126]. Id. at 78.

 [127]. Id. at 79.

 [128]. Id. at 95.

 [129]. Id. (citing James Kloppenberg, The Virtues of Liberalism: Christianity, Republicanism, and Ethics in Early American Political Discourse, 74 J. Am. Hist. 16 (1987)).

 [130]. Id. at 100.

 [131]. Id. (citing Emer de Vattel, The Law of Nations, or, Principles of the Law of Nations, at x (1811)).

 [132]. Id.

 [133]. Lawrence M. Friedman, A History of American Law 4–5 (3d ed. 2005).

 [134]. See, e.g., Stowel v. Lord Zouch (1569), 75 Eng. Rep. 536, 560 (C.B.) (“And for the better apprehension of the purview, the preamble of the Act is to be considered . . .  a key to open the minds of the makers of the Act, and the mischiefs which they intended to redress.”).

 [135]. Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan 242–57 (1651).

 [136]. Edward Coke, Institutes of the Laws of England 79 (1628).

 [137]. William Blackstone, 1 Commentaries on the Laws of England 59–60 (Univ. of Chi. Press 1979) (1765).

 [138]. See, e.g., Brett v. Brett (1716), 162 Eng. Rep. 456, 458–59 (“[I]t is the Preamble more especially that we look for the reason or spirt, of every statute; rehearsing, . . . as it ordinarily does, . . . in the best and most satisfactory manner, the object or intention of the legislature.”); Copeman v. Gallant (1716), 24 Eng. Rep. 404, 404–07.

 [139]. See, e.g., Cox v. Edwards, 14 Mass. 491, 493 (1782) (“But it is said we are to consider the preamble, which is a key to the sense and meaning of the legislature.”); Lynch’s Ex’rs v. Horry, 1 S.C.L. 229, 230 (1792); Turner v. Turner’s Ex’x, 8 Va. 234, 235–36 (1792).

 [140]. Paca’s Lessee v. Forwood, 2 H. & McH. 175, 191 (Md. 1787).

 [141]. Hubley’s Lessee v. White, 2 Yeates 133, 146–47 (Pa. 1796).

 [142]. Id. For an exposition of similar current uses of preambles or other prefatory materials in legal texts, see Antonin Scalia & Bryan Garner, Reading Law: The Interpretation of Legal Texts 35, 218–20 (2012) (with thanks to Jarred Shobe and with anticipation of his forthcoming article on the legal force of statutory prologues).

 [143]. Constitution of the United States Printed in the Pennsylvania Packet and Daily Advertiser, September 19, 1787, Identifier: 2812, Hist. Soc’y of Pa., https://digitallibrary.hsp.org/index.php
/Gallery/72# (last visited Sept. 12, 2018) (image 6/10).

 [144]. This followed but accentuated the printing format of the printed draft of the Constitution. See Jacob Broom Draft of the United States Constitution, 1787, Identifier: 2765, Hist. Soc’y of Pa., https://digitallibrary.hsp.org/index.php/Gallery/72# (last visited Sept. 12, 2018) (image 7/10).

 [145]. Typeset and printed by Nathaniel Patten as “WE THE PEOPLE, of the United STATES, In order to form a more perfect union . . . .” Copy of the U.S. Constitution Printed and Sold by Nathaniel Patten, Identifier: 6151, Hist. Soc’y of Pa., https://digitallibrary.hsp.org/index.php/Gallery/72# (last visited Sept. 12, 2018) (image 2/10). Another printing that year was prepared for use of the State of Pennsylvania in General Assembly, comparing the proposed constitution with the present Articles of Confederation, along with copious state-by-state notes of proposed revisions.

 [146]. Essays of Brutus No. XI: 31 January 1788, in 1 The Complete Anti-Federalist 417, 420–21 (Herbert J. Storing ed., 1981).

 [147]. Essays of Brutus XII: 7 February 1788, in 1 The Complete Anti-Federalist 422, 424 (Herbert J. Storing ed., 1981).

 [148]. Supplement to Max Farrand’s The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, at 291–92 (James H. Hutson, ed., 1987) (emphasis in original). Professor Raymond Muscin said the following regarding Luther’s criticism:

It seems probable that Luther Martin regarded all the clauses of the present Preamble as amounting together to something like a national bill of rights preempting of all the states’ declarations and bills of rights, when he wrote of the Preamble’s “general purposes and powers . . . extending to every purpose of the social compact,” i.e., every reason why people form governments, and tied that reference in with a latent reference to the Supremacy Clause.

Raymond B. Marcin, ‘Posterity’ in the Preamble and a Positivist Pro-Life Position, 38 Am. J. Juris 273, 286 (1993).

 [149]. The Federalist No. 41, at 262–63 (James Madison) (Jacob E. Cooke ed., 1961).

 [150]. Letter from James Madison to Robert S. Garnett (Feb. 11, 1824), in 9 The Writings of James Madison 176, 176–77 (G. Hunt ed., 1910).

 [151]. The Federalist No. 84, at 578–79 (Alexander Hamilton) (Jacob E. Cooke ed., 1961).

 [152]. In the other six state conventions, the Preamble seems to have been taken as given.

 [153]. The Pennsylvania Convention Wednesday 28 November 1787, in 2 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by the States: Pennsylvania 382, 382 (Merrill Jensen et al. eds., 1976).

 [154]. Id. at 383.

 [155]. Id.

 [156]. Id. at 384–86.

 [157]. See id. at 386.

 [158]. Id. at 393. See also id. at 408; The Pennsylvania Convention Saturday 1 December 1787, in 2 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 153, at 444, 445–47 (“‘We the People’ not ‘We the States.’ From this we could not find out that we were United States. . . The Constitution offered to us is a consolidated government and not a confederate republic. It will swallow up eventually all state governments.”).

 [159]. See The Pennsylvania Convention Wednesday 28 November 1787, in The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 153, at 398.

 [160]. Commentaries on the Constitution 17 October–12 November 1787, in 3 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by the States: Connecticut 372, 373 (Merrill Jensen ed., 1978).

 [161]. See Letter from New York, 24, 31 October, in 3 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 160, at 380, 386.

 [162]. Id.

 [163]. Independent Chronicle, 10 January, in 5 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by States: Massachusetts 683 (Merrill Jensen et al. eds., 1998).

 [164]. Id.

 [165]. “The Republican Federalist” V, Massachusetts Centinel, 19 January, in 5 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 163, at 748.

 [166]. Convention Debates, 24 January, P.M., in 6 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by States: Massachusetts 1339 (John P. Kaminski et al. eds., 2000). Others shared this concern. See Convention Debates, 1 February, A.M., in 6 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 166, at 1397.

We the people of the United States, do. If this, sir, does not go to an annihilation of the state government, and to a perfect consolidation of the whole union, I do not know what does. . . We are under oath; we have sworn that Massachusetts is a sovereign and independent state—How then, can we vote for this Constitution, that destroys that sovereignty?

Id.; Convention Debates, 1 February, A.M., in 6 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 166, at 1285.

The latter is a mere federal government of states. Those, therefore that assemble under it have no power to make laws to apply to the individuals of the states confederated; and the attempts to make laws for collective societies, necessarily leave a discretion to comply with them or not.

Id.

 [167]. General Brooks, Jan. 24, 1778, in 6 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 166, at 1397.

 [168]. Id. As an interesting aside, one member of the convention—Mr. Turner—“made an observation that there ought to have been made some mention of Religion [in the preamble].” Monday, 14 January, A.M. and P.M., in 7 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by States: Massachusetts 1801 (John P. Kaminski et al. eds., 2001).

 [169]. See Winthrop Sargent to Henry Knox, Boston, 6 February, in 7 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 166, at 1583.

 [170]. Baltimore Maryland Gazette, 3 June 1788, in 12 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by the States: Maryland 742, 742 (John P. Kaminski et al. eds., 2015).

 [171]. Id.

 [172]. Alfredus, Exeter Freeman’s Oracle, 18 January 1788, in 28 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by the States: New Hampshire 86, 86 (John P. Kaminski et al. eds., 2017).

 [173]. Id. at 89.

 [174]. Id.

 [175]. Id.

 [176]. James Monroe, Observations, supra note 2, at 356.

 [177]. Neither Monroe nor his law teacher, Thomas Jefferson, were one of two delegates from Virginia to the Constitutional Convention. Monroe had served under the Confederation as a member of the Continental Congress. Beginning in 1790, he served as a U.S. Senator from Virginia, and in 1799 became Governor. See generally, Harlow Giles Unger, The Last Founding Father: James Monroe and a Nation’s Call to Greatness (2009).

 [178]. James Monroe, Observations, supra note 2, at 355. This statement is included in, 2 The Founders’ Constitution 14 (Philip B. Kurland and Ralph Lerner, eds., 1987).

 [179]. James Monroe, Observations, supra note 2, at 356.

 [180]. New York Journal 23 November 1787, in 19 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by States: New York 293, 295–96 (John P. Kaminski et al. eds., 2003).

 [181]. Cincinnatus V: To James Wilson, Esq. New York Journal, 29 November 1787, in 19 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 180, at 324.

 [182]. See George Clinton’s Remarks, 27 June 1788, in 22 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by States: New York 1974 (John P. Kaminski et al. eds., 2008); George Clinton’s Remarks, 11 July 1788, in 22 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 182, at 2144 (“‘We the people of the United States’ hence the government must be considered as an original compact, annulling the State Constitutions as far as its powers interfere with them and thus far destroying their rights.”); Cato III, New York Journal, 25 October 1787, in 19 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 180, at 126.

The recital, or premises on which this new form of government is erected, declares a consolidation or union of all thirteen parts, or states, into one great whole, under the firm of the United States, for all the various and important purposes therein set forth.—but whoever seriously considers he immense extent of territory comprehended within the limits of the United States, together with the variety of its climates, productions, and commerce, the difference of extent and number of inhabitants in all; the dissimilitude of interest, morals, and politics in almost every one, will receive it as an intuitive truth that a consolidated republican form of government therein can never form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to you and your posterity, for to these objects it must be directed; this unkindred legislature therefore composed of interests opposite and dissimilar in their nature will in its exercise, emphatically be, like a house divided against itself.

Id.

 [183]. Brutus VI, New York Journal, 27 December 1787, in 19 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 180, at 470.

 [184]. George Clinton, Remarks Against Ratifying the Constitution, 11 July 1788, in 22 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution, supra note 182, at 2146.

 [185]. The Rhode Island Convention Wednesday 3 March 1790, in 26 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by the States: Rhode Island 916, 926 (John P. Kaminski et al. eds., 2013).

 [186]. Id.

 [187]. Id.

 [188]. Id.

 [189]. A. Freeman, Newport Herald, 3 April 1788, in 24 The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution: Ratification of the Constitution by the States: Rhode Island 220, 222 (John P. Kaminski et al. eds., 2011).

 [190]. Id.

 [191]. Id.

 [192]. See id.

 [193]. See, e.g., James Monroe, Observations, supra notes 2, 176–79 and accompanying text.

 [194]. U.S. Const. amend. IX.

 [195]. U.S. Const. amend. X.

 [196]. Articles of Confederation of 1781, art. II (emphasis added).

 [197]. See Kurt T. Lash, The Original Meaning of an Omission: The Tenth Amendment, Popular Sovereignty, and Expressly Delegated Power, 83 NOTRE DAME L. REV. 1889, 1938 (2008).

 [198]. Joseph Story, 2 Commentaries of the Constitution of the United States § 1908 (1833).

 [199]. Id. §§ 1907–08.

 [200]. For a discussion that tends to overemphasize popular sovereignty, but contains helpful commentary, see Akhim Reed Amar & Alan Hirsch, For the People: What the Constitution Really Says About Your Rights 12–14 (1998); Mike Maharrey, The Preamble to the Constitution: What It Tells Us and What It Doesn’t, Tenth Amend. Ctr. (June 13, 2017), http://tenthamendmentcenter.com/2017/06/13/the-preamble-to-the-constitution-what-it-tells-us-and-what-it-doesnt. For a discussion of Kansas v. Colorado, connecting the Preamble and Tenth Amendment, see Himmelfarb, supra note 39, at 147–48.

 [201]. Connor M. Ewing, Structure and Relationship in American Federalism: Foundations, Consequences, and “Basic Principles” Revisited, 51 Tulsa L. Rev. 689, 699 (2016).

 [202]. See generally David N. Mayer, Justice Clarence Thomas and the Supreme Court’s Rediscovery of the Tenth Amendment, 25 Cap. U. L. Rev. 399 (1996) (breathing some new life into the Tenth Amendment).

 [203]. Lawrence B. Solum, The Fixation Thesis: The Role of Historical Fact in Original Meaning, 91 Notre Dame L. Rev. 1, 7 (2015).

 [204]. Id. at 28.

 [205]. See John O. McGinnis & Michael B. Rappaport, Original Methods Originalism: A New Theory of Originalism and the Case Against Construction, 103 Nw. Univ. L. Rev. 751, 767 (2009).

 [206]. Solum, supra note 203, at 7.

 [207]. Thomas R. Lee & James C. Phillips, Data-Driven Originalism, U. Pa. L. Rev. (forthcoming) (manuscript at 3), https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3036206.

 [208]. Id. at 4. See generally Rodica Hanga Calciu, Semantic Change in the Age of Corpus Linguistics, 3 J. Humanistic & Soc. Stud. 45 (2012).

 [209]. Lee & Phillips, supra note 207, at 4.

 [210]. Arthur Ponsonby, The King’s English, Baltimore Sun, Mar. 18, 1928, at M15.

 [211]. U.S. Const., art. IV, § 4 (emphasis added).

 [212]. See Lee & Phillips, supra note 207. Some scholars have also argued that the “domestic violence” clause protected the states against slave revolts. See, e.g., Michael Kent Curtis, The Curious History of Attempts to Suppress Antislavery Speech, Press, and Petition in 1835–37, 89 Nw. U. L. Rev. 785, 791 (1995); Paul Finkelman, Affirmative Action for the Master Class: The Creation of the Proslavery Constitution, 32 Akron L. Rev. 423, 429 n.23, 469 (1999).

 [213]. Jennifer Mascott, Who Are “Officers of the United States”? 70 Stan. L. Rev. 443, 447, 450 (2018).

 [214]. Stephen C. Mouritsen, The Dictionary Is Not a Fortress: Definitional Fallacies and a Corpus-Based Approach to Plain Meaning, 2010 BYU L. Rev. 1915, 1954–55 (2010).

 [215]. Or if too many hits are returned, a random sample sufficiently large to ensure statistically significant results.

 [216]. Transcript of Oral Argument at 37, FCC v. AT&T, Inc., 562 U.S. 397 (2011) (No. 09-1279).

 [217]. Brief for the Project on Government Oversight, et al. as Amici Curiae Supporting Petitioners, FCC v. AT&T, Inc., 562 U.S. 397 (2011) (No. 09-1279) [hereinafter Brief for the Project on Government Oversight].

 [218]. See FCC v. AT&T, Inc., 562 U.S. 397 (2011); Brief for the Project on Government Oversight, supra note 217.

 [219]. United States v. Costello, 666 F.3d 1040, 1044 (2012). Rather than use an actual corpus, Judge Posner did a series of Google searches for “several terms in which the word ‘harboring’ appears” including “harboring fugitives,” “harboring enemies,” and “harboring Jews,” believing “that the number of hits per term is a tough index of the frequency of its use.” Id.

 [220]. See State v. Rasabout, 356 P.3d 1258, 1280 (Utah 2015) (Lee, J., concurring); Thomas R. Lee & Stephen C. Mouritsen, Judging Ordinary Meaning, 127 Yale L.J. 788, 852–56 (2018).

 [221]. In re Adoption of Baby E.Z., 266 P.3d 702, 724–26 (Utah 2011) (Lee, J. concurring).

 [222]. Fire Ins. Exch. v. Oltmans, 2017 UT 81, ¶ 57 n.9 (2017) (Durham, J. concurring) (“[Corpus linguistic] tools for empirical analysis are readily available for lawyers and should be used when appropriate.”); People v. Harris, 885 N.W.2d 832, 839 (Mich. 2016).

 [223]. See Lee & Phillips, supra note 207.

 [224]. Building COFEA has been difficult for a number of reasons―chief among them the difficulty of securing digital copies of eighteenth century documents with usable digital text; the complexities of developing the necessary filters to capture particular thought communities from the data set; the lack of standardized spelling during the eighteenth century; and the lack of inexpensive optical character recognition technology for handwritten texts. As of today, the beta version still contains a number of duplicate sources that Brigham Young University (“BYU”) is actively working towards identifying and eliminating. As BYU works through and overcomes these difficulties, future versions of COFEA will be released that will introduce new analytical tools that will lead to more accurate results.

 [225]. We recognize the work of many colleagues at BYU in developing COFEA, especially Gordon Smith, Justice Thomas Rex Lee, Wayne Schneider, James Phillips, Sara White, Carolina Núñez, David Moore, Curtis Thacker, Charles Draper, and David Armond.

 [226]. We recognize that 1807 is a somewhat arbitrary date. Future researchers may want to further investigate the meaning of the words through the end of the Monroe presidency―the last of the Founder Presidents―using BYU’s Corpus of Historical American English (“COHA”) which contains documents from 1810 to 2009. The COHA could also be used to see if the meaning of these words shifted during the Antebellum period, which could impact 14th Amendment originalists.

 [227]. Henry Barry, The Strictures on the Friendly Address Examined, and a Refutation Attempted 5 (1775), https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N10951.0001.001?view=toc.

 [228]. Letter from J. Foy Chase on behalf of the Mayor Recorder Alderman and Common Council of the City of Annapolis to George Washington (Dec. 22, 1783), https://founders.archives.gov/?q=In
%20your%20Retirement%20to%20the%20peaceful%20and%20pleasing%20Scenes%20of%20domestic%20&s=1111311111&r=1.

 [229]. James Campbell, Oration to Commemorate the Independence of the United States of North-America (July 4, 1786), https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N15855.0001.001?view=toc.

 [230]. John Adams, Inaugural Address March 4, 1797, in 1 Statesman’s Manual: Presidents’ Messages 103 (Edwin Williams ed., 1849).

 [231]. See, e.g., Ethan J. Herenstein, Comment, The Faulty Frequency Hypothesis: Difficulties in Operationalizing Ordinary Meaning Through Corpus Linguistics, 70 Stan. L. Rev. 112, 114–16 (2017).

 [232]. Articles of Confederation of 1781, art. VIII.

 [233].  John Warren, Oration Celebrating the Anniversary of American Independence Delivered in Boston (July 4, 1783), in Edward Warren, The Life of John Warren, M.D. 546 (1874).

 [234]. Benjamin Franklin, Examination Before the Committee of the Whole of the House of Commons, 13 February, 1766, Nat’l Archives: Founders Online, https://founders.archives.gov/documents
/Franklin/01-13-02-0035 (last visited Sept. 17, 2018).

 [235].  Lord North in the House of Lords, Feb. 27, 1775, in 5 Proceedings and Debates of the British Parliaments Respecting North America, 1754–1783, at 432–51 (R.C. Simmons and P.D.G. Thomas, eds., 1982–1987).

 [236]. Jonathan Loring Austin, Oration at the Request of the Inhabitants of the Town of Boston, in Celebration of the Anniversary of American Independence (July 4, 1786), https://quod.lib.umich.edu
/e/evans/N15351.0001.001?view=toc.

 [237]. Letter from Charles Lloyd to the Lords of Trade (Aug. 15, 1767), https://quod.lib.umich.edu
/e/evans/N08350.0001.001/1:6.12?rgn=div2;view=fulltext.

 [238]. Mass. Const. of 1780, art. XVIII.

 [239]. In fact, some of the concordance lines discovered in COFEA could go either way. For example, in a private letter, William Sharpe stated, “[f]rom my particular knowledge of that part of the country I can venture to say that in the fall of [General Davidson] we have lost more than 500 men in the common defence.” Letter from William Sharpe to George Washington (Feb. 27, 1781), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/99-01-02-05034.

 [240]. Jonas Clark, Pastor for the Church in Lexington, Sermon Preached Before the Senate of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts: Election Sermon (May 30, 1781), https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e
/evans/N13550.0001.001?view=toc.

 [241]. Interestingly enough, “common defense”―spelled with an “s”―disappears from the corpus all-together.

 [242]. U.S. Const. art. I, § 8.

 [243]. Memorandum from Alexander Hamilton & Henry Knox to George Washington (Apr. 18, 1793), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-14-02-0262-0002.

 [244]. Jeremy Belknap, 2 The History of New Hampshire: Comprehending the Events of Seventy Five Years 337 (1812).

 [245]. John Taylor, An Examination of the Late Proceedings in Congress, Respecting the Official Conduct of the Secretary of the Treasury (Mar. 8, 1793) https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans
/N20034.0001.001/1:2?rgn=div1;view=fulltext.

 [246]. Tenn. Const. of 1796, art. XXVI. The reference to “freemen” in the Tennessee Constitution made it clear that this right did not extend to slaves.

 [247]. Alexander Hamilton, Address at the New York Ratifying Convention (June 27, 1788), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-05-02-0012-0036. See also The Federalist No. 26 (Alexander Hamilton).

 [248]. Letter from John McKesson to Alexander Hamilton (Jun. 27, 1788), in 5 The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, June 1788–Nov. 1789, at 105, 106 (Harold C. Syrett & Jacob E. Cooke eds., 1962).

 [249]. COFEA cannot yet do multinomial collocate searches. To find this number, the raw “.txt” files used in COFEA were loaded into a freeware corpus linguistic platform known as Antconc. Searches were then performed to determine the number of times the word “general” or “welfare” appeared in a source within ten words of “common defence.” The results were then reviewed manually to eliminate any instances in the sample that did not contain the whole phrase “general welfare.” The inverse was then performed for “common” or “defence” within ten words of the phrase “common defence.” The total was then divided by the total number of times “general welfare” or “common defence” appeared individually in the data set, with sources with close collocation only counting once.

 [250]. I.e., the phrases “common defence and general welfare” and “common defence or general welfare.”

 [251]. Joanna Kopaczyk & Hans Sauer, Binomials in the History of English: Fixed & Flexible 1–2 (2017).

 [252]. Jefferson’s Annotated Copy of Benjamin Franklin’s Proposed Articles of Confederation (June–July 1775), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/01-01-02-0109 (last visited Sept. 17, 2018).

 [253]. Benjamin Franklin, The Albany Plan of Union, 1754, https://founders.archives.gov
/documents/Franklin/01-05-02-0104 (last visited Sept. 17, 2018).

 [254]. Letter from Benjamin Franklin to Cadwalader Evans (Jul. 18, 1771), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Franklin/01-18-02-0115.

 [255]. Letter from Benjamin Franklin to Thomas Cushing (Sept. 27, 1774), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Franklin/01-21-02-0166.

 [256]. Letter from William Drayton to George Washington (Sept. 20, 1788), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/04-06-02-0466.

  [257]. Letter from George Washington to Henry Knox (Apr. 23, 1799), http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/05-02-02-0003.

 [258]. Letter from Thomas Jefferson to George Washington (Sept. 9, 1792), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/01-24-02-0330 (emphasis added).

 [259]. Alexander Hamilton, A Defence of the Treaty of Amity, Commerce, and Navigation, Entered into Between the United States of America & Great Britain, as it has Appeared in the Papers Under the Signature of Camillus 7 (1795), https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N21866.0001.001?view=toc.

 [260]. Francis G. Caffey, A Brief History of the United States Department of Agriculture 24 (1916).

 [261]. Rep. James Madison, Address Before the House of Representative (Feb. 2, 1791), http://press-pubs.uchicago.edu/founders/print_documents/a1_8_1s20.html.

 [262].  Letter from David Brooks to George Washington (Nov. 11, 1783), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/99-01-02-12050.

 [263]. Phillips Payson, A Memorial of Lexington Battle, and of Some Signal Interpositions of Providence in the American Revolution. A Sermon Preached at Lexington, on the Nineteenth of April, 1782, https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N13956.0001.001/1:3?rgn=div1;view=fulltext (last visited Oct. 1, 2018).

 [264]. Silas Downer, Son of Liberty, Discourse Delivered in Providence at the Dedication of the Tree of Liberty (Jul. 25, 1768), https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N08514.0001.001?view=toc.

 [265]. Benjamin Rush, Doctor, Oration Before the American Philosophical Society: An Enquiry into the Natural History of Medicine Among the Indians in North-America, and a Comparative View of their Diseases and Remedies, with those of Civilized Nations (Feb. 4, 1774), https://quod.lib.umich.edu
/e/evans/n10722.0001.001?view=toc.

 [266]. Letter from John Hancock to Phillip Schuyler (Nov. 26, 1775), in 3 American Archives: A Collection of Authentick Records, State Papers, Debates, and Letters and Other Notices of Publick Affairs, 1717–18 (Peter Force ed., 1840).

 [267]. George Washington, Address to the Inhabitants of Canada (Sept. 14, 1774), https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-01-02-0358.

 [268]. Thomas Paine, The Crisis, Number I, at 4 (1775), https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans
/N10979.0001.001/1:1?rgn=div1;view=fulltext;q1=Great+Britain+–+Colonies+–+America.

 [269]. Letter from Abigail Adams to Isaac Smith Jr. (Apr. 20, 1771), https://www.masshist.org/publications/apde2/view?id=ADMS-04-01-02-0058.

 [270].  Samuel Rockwell, Oration Delivered at the Celebration of American Independence, at Salisbury (July 4, 1797),  https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N24735.0001.001?rgn=main;view=fulltext.

 [271]. John Foss, A Journal, of the Captivity and Sufferings of John Foss 121–22 (1795), https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N25429.0001.001/1:3.5?rgn=div2;view=fulltext.

 [272]. James Hardie, The American Remembrancer 37 (1795), https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e
/evans/N21868.0001.001/1:7?rgn=div1;view=fulltext.

 [273]. Richard Price, A Discourse on the Love of our Country 35 (1789), http://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/price-a-discourse-on-the-love-of-our-country.

 [274]. Chisholm v. Georgia, 2 U.S. 419 (1793).

 [275]. Doyle Mathis, Chisholm v. Georgia: Background and Settlement, 54 J. Am. His. 19, 20–21 (1967).

 [276]. Id. at 23.

 [277]. Chisholm, 2 U.S. at 420.

 [278]. Id. at 420–21.

 [279]. Id. at 421 (“[L]et us now advert to the spirit of the Constitution, or rather its genuine and necessary interpretation.”). The Court did acknowledge that treading into the “spirit of the Constitution” comes with risks. Id. (“I am aware of the danger of going into a wide history of the Constitution, as a guide of construction; and of the still greater danger of laying any important stress upon the preamble as explanatory of its powers.”).

 [280]. Id. at 421–23.

 [281]. Id. at 471.

  [282]. Id. at 465.

 [283]. Martin v. Hunter’s Lessee, 14 U.S. 304 (1816)              .               

 [284]. Judiciary Act of 1789, ch. 20, 1 Stat. 73, 85–87 (current version at 28 U.S.C. § 1257 (2012)).

 [285]. Martin, 14 U.S. at 324–25.

 [286]. Craig v. Missouri, 29 U.S. 410 (1830).

 [287]. Id. at 437–38.

 [288]. Id. at 416 (internal quotations omitted).

 [289]. Cohens v. Virginia, 19 U.S. 264, 316–18 (1821).

 [290]. Id. at 416–17.

 [291]. Barron v. Baltimore, 32 U.S. 243, 246 (1833).

 [292]. Id. at 247

 [293]. Id.

 [294]. William Rawle, A View of the Constitution of the United States of America 29–32 (1829).

 [295]. See Stefan M. Brooks, The Webster-Hayne Debate: An Inquiry into the Nature of Union 59 (2009).

 [296]. Id.

 [297]. Id.

 [298]. Herman Belz, The Webster-Hayne Debate on the Nature of the Union, at xiii (Herman Belz ed., 2000). The debate technically ended on January 27, 1830, but many Senators continued to comment on its topics for months, even decades to come.

 [299]. Robert Hayne, U.S Senator from S.C., Speech in the U.S. Senate (Jan. 25, 1830), in The Webster-Hayne Debate on the Nature of the Union 35, 43 (Herman Belz ed., 2000) (emphasis added).

 [300]. Id. 48–49 (emphasis added).

 [301]. Id. at 51 (emphasis added).

 [302]. Id. at 24.

 [303]. Robert Hayne, U.S Senator from S.C., Speech in the U.S. Senate (Jan. 27, 1830), in The Webster-Hayne Debate on the Nature of the Union 155, 163 (Herman Belz ed., 2000) (emphasis in original).

 [304]. Id. at 167 (emphasis in original).

 [305]. Id. (emphasis added).

 [306]. Id. at 175.

 [307]. Id.

 [308]. Id. (emphasis added).

 [309]. See id.

 [310]. John Rowan, U.S Senator from Ky., Speech in the U.S. Senate (Feb. 4, 1830), in The Webster-Hayne Debate on the Nature of the Union 206, 268 (Herman Belz ed., 2000) (emphasis added).

 [311]. Id. at 272 (emphasis added).

 [312]. William Smith, U.S Senator from S.C., Speech in the U.S. Senate (Feb. 25, 1830), in The Webster-Hayne Debate on the Nature of the Union 307 (Herman Belz ed., 2000).

 [313]. Id. at 337–38. It is not clear that “public good” and “general welfare” are synonymous.

 [314]. Id. at 340–41.

 [315]. Id. at 346 (emphasis added).

 [316]. John Clayton, U.S Senator from Del., Speech in the U.S. Senate (Mar. 4, 1830), in The Webster-Hayne Debate on the Nature of the Union 349 (Herman Belz ed., 2000) [hereinafter Clayton Speech].

 [317]. Id. at 359.

 [318]. Id. at 372 (emphasis added).

 [319]. Edward Livingston, U.S Senator from La., Speech in the U.S. Senate (Mar. 9, 1830), in The Webster-Hayne Debate on the Nature of the Union 409, 462 (Herman Belz ed., 2000).

 [320]. Id. at 462–63.

 [321]. Daniel Webster, U.S. Senator from Mass., Speech at Public Dinner in Honor of Washington (Feb. 22, 1832), in The Speeches of Daniel Webster and His Master-Pieces 247, 257 (1880).

 [322]. Joseph Story, Encyclopedia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Joseph-Story (last visited Sept. 17, 2018).

 [323]. On this Day, the Constitution Was Signed in Philadelphia, Const. Daily (Sept. 17, 2018), https://constitutioncenter.org/blog/it-was-229-years-ago-today-the-constitution-was-signed-in-philadelphia.

 [324]. Joseph Story, Encyclopedia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Joseph-Story (last visited Sept. 17, 2018).

 [325]. Id.

 [326]. Joseph Story, Commentaries of the Constitution of the United States (1833).

 [327]. Chief Justice John Marshall wrote of Justice Story’s work, “I have finished reading your great work, and wish it could be read by every statesman, and every would-be statesman in the United States. It is a comprehensive and an accurate commentary on our Constitution, formed in the spirit of the original text.” Joseph Story, 3 Chi. L. Times 1, 6 (1889). Justice Story’s Commentaries has been cited in hundreds of cases dealing with important questions of constitutional law. Ronald D. Rotunda & John E. Nowak, Introduction, in Joseph Story, Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States, at xix (Carolina Acad. Press 1987) (1833).

 [328]. Story, supra note 326, § 459 (emphasis added).

 [329]. Id. § 460 (emphasis added).

 [330]. Story, supra note 326, § 462 (emphasis added).

 [331]. See Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 22 (1905).

 [332]. Id. § 463 (emphasis added).

  [333]. Id.               § 483.

 [334]. John Quincy Adams, The Jubilee of the Constitution: A Discourse 46–47 (1839), https://archive.org/details/jubileeofconst1839adam (based on a speech given by Adams on April 30, 1839).

 [335]. Id.

 [336]. Id. at 47–48.

 [337]. Id. at 60.

 [338]. Id. at 69–70 (emphasis in original). For his definition of justice, Adams draws here upon the Institutes of Justinian.

 [339]. Id. at 118.

 [340]. Id. at 119 (referring to Deuteronomy 11:29).

 [341]. Id. at 119.

 [342]. John C. Calhoun, U.S. Senator from S.C., Speech delivered to Senate (Feb. 28, 1842), in Speeches of John C. Calhoun 74, 81 (Richard K. Cralle ed., 1883).

 [343]. Josiah Quincy, Figures of the Past 317 (1883). See also Jed Woodworth, Josiah Quincy’s 1844 Visit with Joseph Smith, 39 BYU Stud. Q. 71, 71-87 (2000); Margaret C. Robertson, The Campaign and the Kingdom: The Activities of the Electioneers in Joseph Smith’s Presidential Campaign, 39 BYU Stud. Q. 147, 148 (2000); Brian C. Cannon, John C. Calhoun, Jr., Meets the Prophet Joseph Smith Shortly Before the Departure for Carthage, 33 BYU Stud. Q. 773, 774 (1993).

 [344]. These views were either originally his or were approved by him. Joseph Smith, Journal, December 1842–June 1844; Book 3, 15 July 1843–29 February 1844, The Joseph Smith Papers, http://www.josephsmithpapers.org/paper-summary/journal-december-1842-june-1844-book-3-15-july-1843-29-february-1844/265 (last visited Sept. 17, 2018) (material located on pp. 256, 258, 259). This brochure was published both separately and in a Nauvoo newspaper, Times & Seasons, Feb. 15, 1844, at 441.

 [345]. See generally John W. Welch, Joseph Smith and the Constitution, in Jeffrey N. Walker et al., eds., Sustaining the Law: Joseph Smith’s Legal Encounters 1–38 (2014).

 [346]. Abraham Lincoln, Speech at Cincinnati, Ohio, September 17, 1859, in 3 Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln 438, 460 (Rutgers Univ. Press 1953).

 [347]. Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, First Inaugural Address (Mar. 4, 1861), http://avalon.law.yale.edu/19th_century/lincoln1.asp.

 [348]. Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, Special Session Message (July 4, 1861), http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/?pid=69802.

 [349]. Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, Gettysburg Address (Nov. 19, 1863), https://www.britannica.com/event/Gettysburg-Address.

 [350]. See Richard Beeman, Beyond Confederation: Origins of the Constitution and American National Identity 3, 18 (R. Beeman, S. Botein & E. Carter eds., 1987); Max Farrand, The Framing of the Constitution of the United States 128–29, 203–04 (1913).

 [351]. See G. Alan Tarr, Understanding State Constitutions 46 (1998).

 [352]. The following analysis concerning the state preambles was accomplished by looking at the first state constitution adopted by a given state—for all fifty states—after the Federal Constitution went into effect; however, some states still use a state constitution adopted prior to the Federal Constitution, and in those cases, we used the latest constitution available. See generally Ala. Const. of 1819; Alaska Const. of 1959; Ariz. Const. of 1912; Ark. Const. of 1836; Cal. Const. of 1849; Colo. Const. of 1876; Conn. Const. of 1818; Del. Const. of 1792; Fla. Const. of 1839; Ga. Const. of 1789; Haw. Const. of 1959; Idaho Const. of 1890; Ill. Const. of 1818; Ind. Const. of 1816; Iowa Const. of 1846; Kan. Const. of 1859; Ky. Const. of 1792; La. Const. of 1812; Me. Const. of 1819; Md. Const. of 1851; Mass. Const. of 1780; Mich. Const. of 1835; Minn. Const. of 1857; Miss. Const. of 1817; Mo. Const. of 1820; Mont. Const. of 1889; Neb. Const. of 1866; Nev. Const. of 1864; N.H. Const. of 1784; N.J. Const. of 1884; N.M. Const. of 1911; N.Y. Const. of 1821; N.C. Const. of 1868; N.D. Const. of 1889; Ohio Const. of 1802; Okla. Const. of 1907; Or. Const. of 1857; Pa. Const. of 1790; R.I. Const. of 1843; S.C. Const. of 1778; S.D. Const. of 1889; Tenn. Const. of 1796; Tex. Const. of 1845; Utah Const. of 1895; Vt. Const. of 1793; Va. Const. of 1830; Wash. Const. of 1889; W. Va. Const. of 1863; Wis. Const. of 1848; Wyo. Const. of 1889.

 [353]. People ex rel. Caldwell v. Reynolds, 10 Ill. (1 Gilm.), 9 (1848) (“The legislative power of the State is limited by the nature of our State constitution, and the restrictions thereby imposed. . . . It is limited by the general objects mentioned in the preamble.”).

 [354]. Ex parte Martin, 13 Ark. 198, 198 (1853).

 [355]. Id. at 207.

  [356]. Id.                           

 [357]. In re Opinion of the Justices, 58 Me. 590, 590–91 (1871).

 [358]. Id. at 607.

 [359]. Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11 (1905).

 [360]. Timothy Harper, The U.S. Constitution 15 (2007). One of Random House’s Idiot’s Guides, this publication dismisses the Framers as, “by our standards today . . . not especially enlightened,” and as “old, rich, white guys,” who wrote the Constitution “for themselves” and people like them who ran the country. Id. Nevertheless, the preamble which they produced managed to “emphasize the democratic nature of the new nation;” as they were “obviously thinking about their legacy,” it “was written to offer hope, both in 1787 and today.” Id.

 [361]. Previously difficult to obtain, the briefs in this case are now available on line. See Transcript of Record, Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 12 (1905) (No. 70-175) (accessed through the “Making of Modern Law Digital Archive: U.S. Supreme Court Records and Briefs, 1832–1978” database, hosted by the Princeton University Library). As far as we have been able to determine, no law review article or other examination of Jacobson has ever been published.

 [362]. Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 12 (1905).

 [363]. Id. at 12–13.

 [364]. Transcript of Record at 3–4, Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 12 (1905) (No. 70-175).

 [365]. Id. at 4.

 [366]. Id. at 6–7.

 [367]. Id.

 [368]. Id. at 7.

 [369]. Id. at 7–8.

 [370]. Id. No mention of the Massachusetts Preamble is made. Id.

 [371]. Id. at 8.

 [372]. Id. at 8–9.

 [373]. Id. at 11.

 [374]. Id. at 12.

 [375]. Id.

 [376]. Id. at 19.

 [377]. Id. at 16.

 [378]. Id.

 [379]. Id. at 17.

 [380]. Id. at 18.

 [381]. Id. at 19.

 [382]. Id.

 [383]. Brief for Petitioner at 5, Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 12 (1905) (No. 70-175) (although not mentioned in the transcript’s index, the briefs for this case, both Petitioner and Respondent, are appended to the transcript of record on The Making of Modern Law database). The petitioner dropped his challenges involving the Massachusetts Constitution after the Massachusetts Supreme Court found the law did not violate the state’s constitution. See supra notes 374–78 and accompanying text.

 [384]. See generally id.

 [385]. Id. at 12.

 [386]. Id. at 20 (emphasis added).

 [387]. Id. at 31.

 [388]. Brief for the Defendant in Error at 3, Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 12 (1905) (No. 70-175).

 [389]. Arguably, the introduction of the defendant’s brief which states that “[the statute] is contrary to the preamble” implies a substantive argument of rights. However, that implication is eliminated because the defendant only used the Preamble to argue the purpose and spirit of the Constitution. See generally id.

 [390]. Id. at 17 (emphasis added).

 [391]. Records of oral arguments were not kept by the Supreme Court at the time this case was argued, so it is impossible to know how much was argued about the Preamble in oral arguments.

 [392]. Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 22 (1905).

 [393]. See Brief for Petitioner, supra note 383, at 31.

 [394]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 22 (citing Story, supra note 326, § 462) (emphasis added).

 [395]. See supra notes 388–90 and accompanying text.

 [396]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 22.

 [397]. Id.

 [398]. See supra Section I.K.2.

 [399]. See Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 11–39.

 [400]. It is worth noting that the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts, when it wrote its opinion in this case, was able to resolve the issue by answering these two questions and not referring to the Preamble, although it was brought up in the arguments submitted to them as well. See supra notes 376–82 and accompanying text.

 [401]. Id.

 [402]. There is also a brief discussion about the evidence that the defendant attempted to put forth to support his position, but Justice Harlan simply defers to the lower court’s judgment that such evidence was immaterial to the analysis. See Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 23–24.

 [403]. Id. at 25.

 [404]. Id. at 26 (quoting Crowley v. Christensen, 137 U.S. 86, 89 (1890)).

 [405]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 38.

 [406]. Joseph Story, 1 Commentaries of the Constitution of the United States § 459 (1833).

 [407]. Id. § 460 (emphasis added).

  [408].               Id. § 462.

 [409]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 27 (quoting Mass. Const. of 1780, pmbl., art. VII, pt. I.). This preamble further explains that laws “for the common good” must be adopted by “an equitable mode of making laws, as well as for an impartial interpretation and faithful execution of them.” Mass. Const. of 1780, pmbl.

 [410]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 22 (internal citations omitted).

 [411]. For the comments of Monroe, Rawle, and others, see supra Sections I.G. and I.K.1.

 [412]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 22.

 [413]. Id. at 26.

 [414]. Id. at 39 (emphasis added).

 [415]. See Richard M. Re, Narrowing Precedent in the Supreme Court, 114 Colum. L. Rev. 1861, 1869 (2014).

 [416]. See Cent. Va. Cmty. Coll. v. Katz, 546 U.S. 356, 363 (2006).

 [417]. Re, supra note 415, at 1861. Some scholars categorize narrowing precedent as “stealth overruling.” See, e.g., Barry Friedman, The Wages of Stealth Overruling (With Particular Attention to Miranda v. Arizona), 99 Geo. L.J. 1, 1 (2010). However, for the purposes of this paper, overturning or narrowing precedent are viewed as two distinct options the Supreme Court has when overcoming precedent.

 [418]. Boumediene v. Bush, 553 U.S. 723, 762 (2008).

 [419]. Johnson v. Eisentrager, 339 U.S. 763, 768 (1950) (emphasis added).

 [420]. See Boumediene, 553 U.S. at 762.

 [421]. Id. at 761.

 [422]. See id. at 798.

 [423]. See id. at 762 (“True, the Court in Eisentrager denied access to the writ, and it noted the prisoners ‘at no relevant time were within any territory over which the United States is sovereign, and [that] the scenes of their offense, their capture, their trial and their punishment were all beyond the territorial jurisdiction of any court of the United States.’”) (internal citation omitted).

 [424]. Richard M. Re boldly defends this practice and argues it “promot[es] traditional stare decisis values like correctness, fidelity, and candor [and] legitimate narrowing represents the decisional-law analogue to the canon of constitutional avoidance.” Re, supra note 415, at 1861.

 [425]. See id. at 1869.

 [426]. See Tahoe-Sierra Pres. Council, Inc. v. Tahoe Reg’l Planning Agency, 535 U.S. 302, 321 (2002) (internal quotations omitted).

 [427]. Id. at 323.

 [428]. See Roper v. Simmons, 543 U.S. 551, 555–56 (2005).

 [429]. Stanford v. Kentucky, 492 U.S. 361 (1989), overruled by Roper v. Simmons, 543 U.S. 551 (2005).

 [430]. Roper, 543 U.S. at 551 (“[T]he Eight and Fourteenth Amendments did not proscribe the execution of offenders over 15 but under 18. . . .”).

 [431]. Id. at 554.

 [432]. See Marc McAllister, Dicta Redefined, 47 Willamette L. Rev. 161, 188 (2010). Arguably, before dicta is expressly rejected, it may be so persuasive on the Court and lower courts that it is perceived as controlling. See id. at 185.

 [433]. See United States v. Salerno, 481 U.S. 739, 752–53 (1987) (rejecting dicta from Stack v. Boyle, 342 U.S. 1 (1951)).

 [434]. Salerno, 481 U.S at 744 (quoting Stack, 342 U.S. at 5).

 [435]. Stack, 342 U.S. at 5 (alterations in original).

 [436]. Salerno, 481 U.S. at 753.

 [437]. Cohens v. Virginia, 19 U.S. 264, 399 (1821).

 [438]. Cent. Va. Cmty. Coll. v. Katz, 546 U.S. 356, 363 (2006).

 [439]. Cohens v. Virginia, 19 U.S. 264, 399 (1821).

 [440]. Bartkus v. Illinois 359 U.S. 121, 122–23 (1959).

 [441]. Id.

 [442]. Id. at 123­–24.

 [443]. United States v. Tirrell, 120 F.3d 670, 677 (7th Cir. 1997).

 [444]. See e.g., United States v. Moore, 370 F. App’x. 559, 560 (5th Cir. 2010) (per curiam), cert denied, 562 U.S. 898 (2010).

[I]t is unclear whether such an exception to the dual-sovereignty exists in this circuit. This exception originated from Barkus v. Illinois, where the Supreme Court suggested in dicta that there may be an exception the dual-sovereignty doctrine when one sovereign is ‘merely a tool’ of the other in bringing a second prosecution that . . . would otherwise be barred under the Double Jeopardy Clause. We have not formally recognized or applied the exception; when confronted with issue, we have held that, even if the exception exists, the facts do not merit its application.

Id. (internal citations omitted).

 [445]. See, e.g., Kansas v. Hendricks, 521 U.S. 346, 354 (1997); Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113, 154 (1973); W. Va. State Bd. of Educ. v. Barnette, 319 U.S. 624, 655 (1943).

 [446]. Using Westlaw, forty-four cases were found that both cited Jacobson and used the word “preamble.” Of those forty-four, only thirteen cases discussed Jacobson’s dicta concerning the Constitution’s Preamble.

 [447]. See, e.g., United States v. Verdugo-Urquidez, 494 U.S. 259, 265 (1990); City of Richmond v. J.A. Croson Co., 488 U.S. 469, 562 (1989) (Blackmun, J., dissent); EEOC v. Wyoming, 460 U.S. 226, 267 (1983) (Powell, J., dissent); Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113, 168–70 (1973) (Stewart, J., concurrence) (surveying the meaning of the word “liberty”); Gregory v. City of Chicago, 394 U.S. 111, 113 (1969) (Black, J., concurrence).

 [448]. Carter v. Carter Coal Co., 298 U.S. 238, 292 (1936).

 [449]. Id. (citing Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 22 (1905)).

 [450]. Tinsley v. Methodist Hosp. of Ind., Inc., 70 F.3d 1275, 1995 WL 695960 at *2 (7th Cir. 1995) (unpublished table opinion).

 [451]. Id. (citing Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 22 (1905)).

 [452]. In re Opinion of the Justices, 22 N.E.2d 49, 55 (Mass. 1939).

 [453]. Id. at 57.

 [454]. Id.

 [455]. E.g., Duke Power Co. v. Greenwood Cty., 10 F. Supp. 854, 870 (W.D.S.C. 1935), supplemented by, 12 F. Supp. 70 (W.D.S.C. 1935) (overturned on other grounds); Miss. Utilities Co. v. City of California., Mo., 8 F. Supp. 454, 459 (W.D. Mo. 1934); Amazon Petroleum Corp. v. R.R. Comm’n of Tex., 5 F. Supp. 639, 647–48 (E.D. Tex. 1934) (overturned on other grounds); Nat’l Pride At Work, Inc. v. Governor of Mich., 748 N.W.2d 524, 539 (Mich. 2008); Cheaney v. State, 285 N.E.2d 265, 273 (Ind. 1972); Ace Bus Transp. Co. v. S. Hudson Cty. Boulevard Bus Owners’ Ass’n, 177 A. 360, 368–69 (N.J. Ch. 1935).

 [456]. United States v. Kinnebrew Motor Co., 8 F. Supp. 535, 535 (W.D. Okla. 1934).

 [457]. Id. at 535–36.

 [458]. Id. at 544.

 [459]. Id. at. 539.

 [460]. Id.

 [461]. Id.

 [462]. Hockett v. State Liquor Licensing Bd., 110 N.E. 485, 486 (Ohio 1915).

 [463]. Id. at 489.

 [464]. Id.

 [465]. Id.

 [466]. Id.

 [467]. Hart Coal Corp. v. Sparks, 7 F. Supp. 16, 26 (W.D. Ky.), vacated, 74 F.2d 697 (6th Cir. 1934).

 [468]. Id. at 27.

 [469]. Id.

 [470]. Goldberg v. Kelly, 397 U.S. 254, 265 (1970).

 [471]. Doe v. Bolton, 410 U.S. 179, 210 (1973).

 [472]. See, e.g., Greer v. Spock, 424 U.S. 828, 852 (1976) (Brennan, J., dissenting); McGautha v. California, 402 U.S. 183, 246 (1971) (Douglas, J., dissenting); Duncan v. Kahanamoku, 327 U.S. 304, 338 (1946) (Burton, J., dissenting).

 [473]. Bartkus v. Illinois, 359 U.S. 121, 155 (1959) (Black, J., dissenting); Lichter v. United States, 334 U.S. 742, 782 (1948) (Burton, J.).

 [474]. Bissonette v. Haig, 800 F.2d 812, 818 (8th Cir. 1986) (en banc) (dissent), aff’d, 485 U.S. 264 (1988) (using the Preamble to support the argument that military officials on trial were ensuring domestic tranquility); Wiggins Bros., Inc. v. Dep’t of Energy, 667 F.2d 77, 88 (Temp. Emer. Ct. App. 1981), cert. denied, 456 U.S. 905 (1982) (noting that “the federal rule permits and requires consideration of preambles in appropriate cases” when interpreting the Constitution, statutes, or regulations); NLRB v. Highview, Inc., 590 F.2d 174, 178 (5th Cir. 1979) (using the Preamble to support its holding that the NLRB has jurisdiction over a nursing home, substantively to “promote the general welfare”); Turley v. Wyrick, 554 F.2d 840, 844 (8th Cir. 1977) (concurrence), cert. denied, 434 U.S. 1033 (1978) (in arguing that double prosecutions are unconstitutional); LeFlore v. Robinson, 434 F.2d 933, 955 (5th Cir. 1970) (dissent) (asserting that the Preamble, “serves as a key to an interpretation” of responsibilities and rights conferred by the Bill of Rights); United States v. Josephson, 165 F.2d 82, 90 (2d Cir. 1947), cert. denied, 333 U.S. 838 (1948) (the Preamble has substantive value, imposing duties on Congress). None of these cases mention Jacobson.

 [475]. See, e.g., Berry v. School Dist., 467 F. Supp. 695, 709 (W.D. Mich. 1978) (reasoning that its holding helps fulfill the goals of the Preamble); In re DeToro, 247 F. Supp. 840, 843 (D. Md. 1965), cert. denied sub nom. DeToro v. Maryland, 390 U.S. 992 (1968) (arguing that the Preamble substantively assures that the “blessings of Liberty” will be secured to all, though not dispositive to this case’s outcome).

 [476]. Westel Willoughby, 1 The Constitutional Law of the United States 62 (2nd ed., 1929).

 [477]. William Winslow Crosskey, 1 Politics and the Constitution in the History of the United States 374 (1953).

 [478]. Morris D. Forkosch, Who Are the “People” in the Preamble to the Constitution? 19 Case W. Res. L. Rev. 644, 644 (1968).

 [479]. 1A Sutherland’s Statutes and Statutory Construction § 20.03 (N. Singer 4th ed. 1985) (footnotes omitted) (emphasis added).

 [480]. 2A Sutherland’s Statutes and Statutory Construction § 47.04 (N. Singer 4th ed. 1984) (footnotes omitted) (emphasis added).

 [481]. See generally Walter Berns, Taking the Constitution Seriously (1987).

 [482]. Milton Handler et al., A Reconsideration of the Relevance and Materiality of the Preamble in Constitutional Interpretation, 12 Cardozo L. Rev. 117, 118 (1990).

 [483]. Id. at 119.

 [484]. Id. at 163 (emphasis added).

 [485]. Gilbert Paul Carrasco & Peter W. Rodino, Jr., “Unalienable Rights,” the Preamble, and the Ninth Amendment: The Spirit of the Constitution, 20 Seton Hall L. Rev. 498, 523 (1990) (“Those responsible for governing and interpreting the Constitution are subject to the commands of the Preamble to help in the establishment of a more perfect union and to help secure the blessings of liberty.”).

 [486]. Dan Himmelfarb, The Preamble in Constitutional Interpretation, 2 Seton Hall Const. L.J. 127, 160–66, 193–201 (1992).

 [487]. Id. at 132–35.

 [488]. Id. But see supra Section I.B.

 [489]. Himmelfarb, supra note 486, at 135. But see supra Section I.B.

 [490]. Himmelfarb, supra note 486, at 203.

 [491]. Id. Himmelfarb continues: “[I]n addition to the problem of determining with any degree of confidence the precise meaning of ‘Justice’ or ‘general Welfare,’ there is the problem of deciding whether to uphold a law because the ‘common defence’ requires it or to invalidate the law because it is inconsistent with the ‘Blessings of Liberty.’” Id.

 [492]. Raymond Marcin, “Posterity” in the Preamble and a Positivist Pro-Life Position, 38 Am. J. Juris. 273, 281, 283 (1993) (“In light of the case law on Preambles in general and on the Preamble to the Constitution of the United States in particular, it would seem that some limited use may be made of the ‘Blessings of Liberty to . . . our Posterity’ clause in shedding light on the spirit behind the fifth and fourteenth amendments’ rights to life and liberty.”).

 [493]. Eric M. Axler, Note, The Power of the Preamble and the Ninth Amendment: The Restoration of the People’s Unenumerated Rights, 24 Seton Hall Legis. J. 431, 435–37 (2000).

 [494]. C. Dean McGrath Jr., The Genius of the Constitution: The Preamble and the War on Terror, 3 Geo. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 13, 18 (2005).

 [495]. Id. at 13, 18 (“The Preamble provides clear guidance concerning the underlying aspirations that the Constitution’s framers had for the Constitution and the new United States of America. Those aspirations have continued to guide our government in the use of its enumerated powers . . . .”).

 [496]. Orgad, supra note 48. This article is discussed in the following Section.

 [497]. Justin O. Frosini, Constitutional Preambles: More than Just a Narration of History, 2017 Ill. L. Rev. 603.

 [498]. Alexander Tsesis, Maxim Constitutionalism: Liberal Equality for the Common Good, 91 Tex. L. Rev. 1609 (2013).

 [499]. Kenneth Shuster, Because of History, Philosophy, the Constitution, Fairness & Need: Why Americans Have a Right to National Health Care, 10 Ind. Health L. Rev. 75, 89–91 (2013) (“[The Preamble] does explain the ‘why’ of the Constitution, namely, the six ends for which the Constitution was created. . . . It is inconceivable that Americans, who possess constitutional rights to speak freely and assemble, have speedy and public trials, and vote, do not have a constitutional right to have their government provide them with health care.”).

 [500]. Erwin Chemerinsky & Michael Stokes Paulsen, The Preamble, Nat’l Const. Ctr., https://constitutioncenter.org/interactive-constitution/preamble/the-preamble-by-erwin-chemerinsky-and-michael-stokes-paulsen/interp/37 (last visited Sept. 19, 2018).

 [501]. Id.

 [502]. Erwin Chemerinsky, Giving Meaning to the Preamble, Nat’l Const. Ctr., https://constitutioncenter.org/interactive-constitution/preamble/giving-meaning-to-the-preamble-by-erwin-chemerinsky/interp/37 (last visited Sept. 19, 2018).

 [503]. See Michael Stokes Paulsen, The Preamble’s Significance for Constitutional Interpretation, Nat’l Const. Ctr., https://constitutioncenter.org/interactive-constitution/preamble/the-preambles-significance-for-constitutional-interpretation-by-michael-sto/interp/37 (last visited Sept. 19, 2018).

 [504]. Chemerinsky, supra note 502.

 [505]. Orgad, supra note 48, at 714.

 [506]. See generally Oxford Constitutions of the World, Oxford Const. L., http://oxcon.ouplaw.com/home/OCW (last visited Sept. 19, 2018).

 [507]. In 1849, the constitutional monarchy of Denmark was the first to use the written United States Constitution as a model, although with no preamble. See generally The Constitutional Act of Denmark, Danish Parliament, https://www.thedanishparliament.dk/en/democracy/the-constitutional-act-of-denmark (last visited Sept. 19, 2018).

 [508]. Though sources differ as to the exact number of countries whose constitutions begin with a preamble, the number is well over one hundred. Vladan Kutlesic, Preambles of Constitutions: A Comparative Study of 194 Current Constitutions, Const. Making & Const. Change (Nov. 1, 2016), http://constitutional-change.com/preambles-of-constitutions-a-comparative-study-of-194-current-constitutions (stating that 134 of the 194 studied countries have constitutional preambles). See also Wim Voermans et al., Constitutional Preambles: A Comparative Analysis (2017) (noting that 85% of studied constitutions have a preamble; 158/190); Robert L. Maddex, Constitutions of the World (2014); Tom Ginsburg et al., “We the Peoples”: The Global Origins of Constitutional Preambles, 46 Geo. Wash. Int’l L. Rev. 101, 106, 109 (2014) (finding that of a sample of 742 coded constitutions, 596 contained preambles; 80% of all constitutions have a preamble).

 [509]. Orgad, supra note 48, at 715.

 [510]. Ginsburg et al., supra note 508, at 119.

 [511]. This study identified 596 preambles in 742 coded constitutions. This total includes repeat countries, or revisions of preambles from the same country.

 [512]. 1975 Syntagma [Syn.] [Const.] pmbl. (Greece).

 [513]. Qanuni Assassi Jumhurii Islamai Iran [The Constitution of the Islamic Republic of Iran] pmbl. [1980]. See also Ginsburg et al., supra note 508, at 110.

 [514]. See, e.g., Bundesverfassung [BV] [Const.] April 18, 1999, pmbl. (Switz.); pmbl., Constitución Nacional [Const. Nat’l] (Arg.).

 [515]. See, e.g., S. Afr. Const. of 1996; Конституція України [Constitution] June 28, 1996, pmbl. (Ukraine).

 [516]. Orgad, supra note 48, at 716–18.

 [517]. Frosini, supra note 497, at 605.

 [518]. Id. (“Indeed, it can often be very difficult to make the distinction, for example, between references to the identity of a nation or territory and a historical narration.”).

 [519]. Id.

 [520]. As will be shown below, there are exceptions to the general rule. For example, the content of South Africa’s preamble, which contains specific commands and a rich historical narrative, clearly has influenced the court’s decision making.

 [521]. Frosini, supra note 497, at 603.

 [522]. S. Afr. Const. of 1996.

 [523]. Id.

We therefore, through our freely elected representatives, adopt this Constitution as the supreme law of the Republic so as to: Heal the divisions of the past and establish a society based on democratic values, social justice and fundamental human rights; Lay the foundations for a democratic and open society in which government is based on the will of the people and every citizen is equally protected by law; Improve the quality of life of all citizens and free the potential of each person; and Build a united and democratic South Africa able to take its rightful place as a sovereign state in the family of nations.

Id. S. Afr. (Interim) Const., 1993.

Whereas there is a need to create a new order in which all South Africans will be entitled to a common South African citizenship in a sovereign and democratic constitutional state in which there is equality between men and women and people of all races so that all citizens shall be able to enjoy and exercise their fundamental rights and freedoms.

Id.

 [524]. Anne Hughes, Human Dignity and Fundamental Rights in South Africa and Ireland 17–21 (2014); Lourens M. du Plessis, The Evolution of Constitutionalism and the Emergence of a Constitutional Jurisprudence in South Africa: An Evaluation of the South African Constitutional Court’s Approach to Constitutional Interpretation, 62 Sask. L. Rev. 299, 314–15 (1999) (noting that the constitution’s preamble is “consulted quite readily”).

 [525]. S v. Mhlungu 1995 (3) SA (CC) at 867 para. 112 (S. Afr.).

 [526]. S v. Makwanyane 1995 (3) SA (CC) at 391 para. 362–63 (S. Afr.). For a more recent example where the Constitutional Court discussed the value of the Preamble, see City of Tshwane Metropolitan Municipality v. Afriform and Another 2016 ZACC 19 (S Afr.).

 [527]. Grundgesetz [GG] [Basic Law]. In the original: “Das gesamte Deutsche Volk bleibt aufgefordert, in freier Selbstbestimmung die Einheit und Freiheit Deutschlands zu vollenden.”

 [528]. Communist Party Case, BVerfG, Aug. 17, 1956, 5 BVerfGE 85, 128–29 (Ger.). In that case, the Court concluded that banning the German Communist Party would not violate the preamble’s command to pursue reunification.

 [529]. Basic East-West Treaty Case, 1973 BVerfG, 36 BVerfGE 1, 17–18 (Ger.). For more on this case, see Justin Collings, Democracy’s Guardians: A History of the German Federal Constitutional Court 1951–2001, at 134–44 (2015).

 [530]. BVerfG, Oct. 21, 1987, 77 BVerfGE 137, 148–53 (Ger.). See also Collings, supra note 529, at 219–22.

 [531]. Id. See Grundgesetz Für Die Bundesrepublik Deutschland [GG] [Basic Law] pmbl., translation at https://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_gg. Though the court could have reached its decision without reference to the preamble. See Micheal Silagi, The Preamble of the German Grundgesetz: Constitutional Status and Importance of Preambles in German Law, 52 Acta Juridica Hungarica 54, 60–61 (2011). For a discussion involving the preamble’s relevancy in German constitutional law, see Collings, supra note 529, at 134–44.

 [532]. BVerfG, June 30, 2009, 2 BvE 2/08, translated at https://www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de‌/SharedDocs/Entscheidungen/EN/2009/06/es20090630_2bve000208en.html. I thank Justin Collings for drawing these German cases to my attention and for his expertise in helping formulate these two paragraphs.

 [533]. Colonel M.M Nehru, Is Preamble a Part of the Constittuion, No Frills Academy, http://nofrillsacademy.com/preamble-part-constitution.html (last visited Sept. 19, 2018) (attributing the quote to Thakurdas Bhargava). See also Shubham Borkar, Nat’l L. Inst. Univ., Role of Preamble in the Interpretation of Constitution 12 (2012), https://www.slideshare.net/ShubhamBorkar3/role-of-preamble-in-the-interpretation-of-constitution-55890820.

 [534]. Berubari Union & Others v. Unknown, (1960) 3 SCR 250 para. 32 (India).

 [535]. Kesavananda Bharati Sripadagalvaru & Ors. v. State of Kerala & Anr., (1973) 4 SCC 225 (India).

 [536]. Id. para. 100–01 (internal citations omitted).

 [537]. Id. para. 124. For further discussion on the substantive roles of preambles in other countries, including Bosnia and Herzegovina and Columbia, see Frosini, supra note 497, at 618–23.

 [538]. Akhil Reed Amar, America’s Constitution: A Biography 471 (2005).

 [539]. Id.

 [540]. Handler, supra note 482, at 163.

 [541]. See supra notes 125–31 and accompanying text. See generally John W. Welch, The 21st Century as the Century of Duties? Clark Memorandum, Spring 2013, at 32–33.

 [542]. Plato: The Laws 723a at 139 (Penguin Books, Trevor J. Saunders trans., 1970). It is possible that this dialogue was known to some of the framers, but unlikely. Either way, Plato’s prescription can carry weight in constitutional theory today.

 [543]. See supra notes 128–30 (on Locke), 322–30 (on Story), 334–40 (on Founding Fathers), 343–45 (on Joseph Smith) and accompanying text. On others, see Matthew S. Holland, Bonds of Affection: Civic Charity and the Making of America—Winthrop, Jefferson, and Lincoln (2007); Aristotle: Politica 3:1275a–1278b, at 1176–1184 (Random House, Benjamin Jowett trans., 1941); Adam Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759).

 [544]. See supra notes 142–44 and accompanying text.

 [545]. Jacobson v. Massachusetts, 197 U.S. 11, 22 (1905) (emphasis added).

 [546]. See supra Section I.H. (relevant to the Tenth Amendment).

 [547]. Jacobson, 197 U.S. at 22.

 [548]. Ralph C. Hancock, Conclusion: Two Revolutions and the Problem of Modern Prudence, in The Legacy of the French Revolution 257 (Ralph C. Hancock & L. Gary Lambert eds., 1996). “The American understanding of self-government was buttressed by a rational understanding of natural rights but also grounded in practical political experience and limited by inherent moral and religious beliefs,” including seeing the Creator (and not rationality or the legislated will of the people) as “the very source of man’s natural equality and liberty.” Id. at 268. The French were impatient “with the American doctrine of separation of powers,” with its “inelegant limiting and balancing” that to them “made no sense,” id. at 264, but which is the essence of civic virtue as reflected in the Preamble.

 [549]. Scalia, supra note 142, at 218.

 [550]. See, e.g., supra notes 147–48 and accompanying text.

 [551]. Scalia, supra note 142, at 35, 218.

 [552]. As the Committee on Detail had initially preferred.

 [553]. Alexis de Tocqueville, On Common Law, on the Mississippi, in The Tocqueville Reader: A Life in Letters and Politics 63 (Oliver Kunz, ed., 2002).