The Judicial Bookshelf

A persistent reality of constitutional government in the United States from practically the beginning of the Republic has been the close link between the Constitution itself and the Supreme Court. Oddly, this link derives more from the Constitution's impact on the American political system than from what the Constitution itself actually says or contains. True, Article III included cases “arising under this Constitution” in describing the proper reach of the federal judicial power, and Article VI specified that “[t]his Constitution and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in pursuance thereof; and all treaties made, or which shall be made under the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land … ” ¹ But the document not only provided scant means for enforcing that supremacy, but also failed even to specify how this “supreme Law” should be interpreted. It soon became clear, however that the task of interpretation would fall upon the Supreme Court, as illustrated by Chisholm v. Georgia. ² In the face of assurances made by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, John Marshall, and others during the ratification debates in 1787–1788 that a state could not, without its consent, be made a defendant in the federal courts by a citizen of another state, ³ the Justices in 1793 construed the language in Article III conferring the federal judicial power in suits “Between a State and Citizens of another State” to encompass a suit brought by a South Carolinian against the State of Georgia. The uproar that ensued prompted swift ratification of the Eleventh Amendment, which reversed the Court's first excursion into the realm of constitutional interpretation. Despite this rebuke, it was only a short time before Chief Justice Marshall insisted that the judicial power encompassed the authority “to say what the law is.” ⁴ Thus, from the assumed role of expounding of the Constitution evolved the companion duty of guarding it as well.     

National League of Cities and the Ephemeral Nature of Significant Supreme Court Cases

For many years, I taught third‐year law students at the Dickinson School of Law (Penn State's law school now, a private institution then) a seminar entitled “The Constitution.” For a semester we would seek to get to know the document through a careful reading of it, along with some of the works that those who wrote the Constitution would have read and some that they wrote, various essays by legal scholars and political scientists, and various Supreme Court cases. The goal was to get these budding young attorneys to try to determine what, if any, relationship there might be between what the Constitution says and what we now say it says.     

John J. Parker and the Beginning of the Modern Confirmation Process

Ideological concerns' dominance of the Supreme Court confirmation process has certainly become routine, especially in the form of issue-driven interest groups' influence over the agenda for Senate debates. More significantly, the Senate normally focuses on what Laurence Tribe has called “the net impact of adding [a] candidate to the Court” ¹ in terms of steering the Court toward adherence to a particular judicial philosophy, such as originalism ² or pragmatism, ³ or toward a specific outlook on a given constitutional issue. And when the President nominates someone with prior judicial experience, the candidate's decisions, as well as his or her prior speeches or other public activities, become fair game as supposed indications of his or her fitness for service on the Court.     

Antonin Scalia and the Dilemma of Constitutional Originalism

Antonin Scalia has had a very significant and healthy impact on the way people talk about American constitutional law. Thanks largely to Justice Scalia’s forceful and eloquent voice, originalism is now so respectable that even those who seek to advance an aggressive and progressive “living constitution” frequently find it prudent to pose as expositors of the Constitution’s original meaning. Scalia’s substantial effect on the terms of debate in constitutional law, however, is not likely to be matched by a comparable influence on the future of the law itself. Apart from political realities that affect appointments to the Court, originalism faces obstacles that have deep historical roots. This essay explores those obstacles before considering two examples that suggest why Scalia’s originalism is unlikely to make a decisive contribution to the reformation in constitutional law that he sought.     

Rufus W. Peckham and the Pursuit of Economic Freedom

It is striking that Rufus W. Peckham has received so little scholarly attention and remains without a biography. He was, of course, the author of Lochner v. New York (1905), ¹ one of the most famous and contested decisions in the history of the Supreme Court. Moreover, Peckham wrote important opinions dealing with contractual freedom, anti‐trust law, eminent domain, dormant commerce power, and the Eleventh Amendment. Indeed, Owen M. Fiss maintains that Peckham and David J. Brewer were intellectual leaders of the Fuller Court, “influential within the dominant coalition and the source of the ideas that gave the Court its sweep and direction.” Even when they did not prevail, Fiss observed, Peckham and Brewer “set the terms for the debate.” ²     

The Judicial Bookshelf

Almost anyone who can read would describe the Supreme Court of the United States as a legal body–an institution that says what the law is in the context of deciding cases. May the Court also be fairly described as a political institution? Even to pose the question raises eyebrows, because Americans commonly use the word “political” to refer to partisan politics—that persistent struggle between organized groups called political parties to control public offices, public resources, and the nation’s destiny. In this sense of the word, the federal courts are expected today to be “above politics,” meaning that judges are supposed to refrain from publicly taking sides in elections, from otherwise jumping into the arena of electoral combat, 2 or from deciding cases based on the popularity of the litigants.3 While democratic theory anticipates that elected officials will answer to the people, the rule of law envisions something different: an abiding and even‐handed application by the judiciary of the Constitution and statutes shaped by the people and their representatives.     

Justice Jackson and the Second Flag‐Salute Case: Reason and Passion in Opinion‐Writing

In 1943, the Supreme Court handed down West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette. ¹ With Justice Robert H. Jackson writing for the six‐Justice majority, the Court upheld the First Amendment right of Jehovah's Witnesses schoolchildren to refuse to salute the flag or recite the Pledge of Allegiance, state‐imposed obligations that the children and their parents contended were acts of idolatry that violated biblical commands. Judge Richard A. Posner has said that Justice Jackson's effort “may be the most eloquent majority opinion in the history of the Supreme Court.” ²     

The Judicial Bookshelf

Change at the Supreme Court may be most visible and frequent in the progression of statutory and constitutional questions the Justices resolve collectively, but it may also be equally highlighted by an individual Justice's decision. This reality became plainly apparent in a letter that Justice John Paul Stevens sent to the White House on April 9, 2010, just eleven days shy of his 90^th birthday: “My dear Mr. President: Having concluded that it would be in the best interests of the Court to have my successor appointed and confirmed well in advance of the commencement of the Court's next Term, I shall retire from regular active service as an Associate Justice … effective the next day after the Court rises for the summer recess this year.” ¹ His statement was dated almost a year after Justice David Souter dispatched a similar notice to President Obama on May 1, 2009, announcing his intention to leave the Bench. Thus, for the fifth time in as many years, the machinery of executive nomination and senatorial advice and consent for the High Court churned again.     

The Judicial Bookshelf

Millions were reminded on January 20, 2009, that the inauguration of an American President is as remarkable as it is routine. In this distinctly republican rite, the chief executive publicly subordinates himself to the fundamental law of the land. As the Constitution dictates, “[b]efore he enters on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the following Oath or Affirmation: ‘I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.’” ¹ This display of constitutional fealty was remarkable because the variety of political systems, experiences, and cultures across today's globe graphically illustrates that the seamless and peaceful transfer of authority from one political party or individual to another, as was witnessed at President Barack Obama's inauguration and at President George W. Bush's inauguration in 2001, is not always a foregone occurrence everywhere. January's event was routine in that, from the outset of government under the Constitution and with the notable and tragic exception of 1860, the defeated party or individual has accepted, if not welcomed, the verdict rendered by the electoral process. That was the outcome even in 1800, when the notion of a violence‐free shift of control in a country founded on the principle of government by the “consent of the governed” ² was first put to the test at the presidential level. The assumption of authority by Thomas Jefferson and the Democratic‐Republicans from John Adams and the Federalists marked the world's first peaceful transfer of power from the vanquished to the victors as the result of an election. ³ Given the stark national partisan differences that had crystallized in the short time since ratification of the Constitution and the fact that finalization of the election required extraordinary intervention by the House of Representatives to break an Electoral College tie, this outcome was a greater achievement than is sometimes acknowledged. “Partisanship prevailed to the bitter end and showed no signs of abating,” according to one historian who has recently revisited this critical and precedent‐setting election. “Over the campaign's course, George Washington's vision of elite consensus leadership had died, and a popular two‐party republic … was born.” ⁴     

The Judicial Bookshelf

"In law, also, men make a difference," ¹ counseled Felix Frankfurter the year before his appointment to the Supreme Court. Frankfurter highlighted one of the three critical components of judicial decision-making in constitutional law: alongside the text of the Constitution itself and the cases that pose various questions for decision are the women and men who answer those questions. Those answers, as Frankfurter believed, are invariably influenced by the values Justices bring with them to the Bench. Yet he was expressing no newfound truth, but an awareness that had been apparent for a long time. "Impressed with a conviction that the true administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good government," President George Washington wrote future Attorney General Edmund Randolph in 1789, "I have considered the first arrangement of the judicial department as essential to the happiness of our country and the stability of its political system." To be sure, the Court's role in the political system was unclear, but Washington realized the impact the Court might have in the young Republic. This required, he told Randolph, "the selection of the fittest characters to expound the laws and dispense justice." ² And as he filled the six seats Congress had authorized for the Supreme Court, the first President made sure that each nominee was a strong supporter of the new Constitution.     

Why Dennis v. United States is a Landmark Case

A landmark, Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary tells us, is “an event or development that marks a turning point or a stage.” In my life, the case of Dennis v. United States ¹ is a landmark, or perhaps more accurately, a series of landmarks. My 1973 doctoral dissertation was on Dennis. ² Four years later that thesis became my first book. ³ My second book, a collection of articles on American political trials that appeared in 1981, contained an essay by me on Dennis. ⁴ By then, I assumed, I had said about everything I had to say on the case. In 1993, though, Mel Urofsky brought me back to it, asking me to write a retrospective article on Dennis for the Journal of Supreme Court History, of which he had just become the editor. ⁵ Now, fifteen years later, here we are together again. I am beginning to think that the “grave and probable danger” test that Dennis introduced into constitutional law will be inscribed on my tombstone.     

Joining the Court: Pierce Butler

In a four‐year span beginning in the summer of 1921, five new members took their seats on the Supreme Court, and three of those men—the middle three—arrived on the Bench within four months of each other. The first of the five was William Howard Taft, who, upon the death of Edward Douglass White, was named Chief Justice of the United States by President Warren G. Harding. Minnesota corporate lawyer Pierce Butler wrote Taft a genial letter, extending his congratulations and best wishes. “I felicitate you because it is an honor to any man to be chosen to that, the most exalted position in the world, and because no one who is qualified to discharge the duties of the office can fail to rejoice in attaining it. But the country is to be congratulated much more than you are.” ¹     

The Judicial Bookshelf

“The good that Presidents do is often interred with their Administrations. It is their choice of Supreme Court Justices that lives after them.” ¹ This was the assessment offered by one leading opinion journal more than seven decades ago, after President Franklin D. Roosevelt nominated Professor Felix Frankfurter to the Supreme Court to fill the opening occasioned by the death of Justice Benjamin N. Cardozo. Because vacancies on the Court not only are infrequent but also occur at irregular intervals, the comment illustrates the reality that selection of Justices is among the most important and consequential responsibilities that fall to any chief executive.     

JURY DECISION MAKING MODELS AND THE SUPREME COURT: THE JURY CASES FROM WILLIAMS v. FLORIDA TO BALLEW v. GEORGIA*

This article analyzes recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions in cases relating to the size and unanimity of juries as an example of the use (and abuse) of social science by the Court in the realm of policy analysis. The four cases reviewed “cast an unflattering light on the U.S. Supreme Court's ability to integrate social science findings into public law.”     

Interpreting the Bill of Rights and the Nature of Federalism: Barron v. City of Baltimore

In 1833, a mere forty-five years after the Constitution of the United States took effect, the young republic was striving to establish the form its constitutional government would take. For while the Constitution and its first ten amendments had set forth many principles regarding the rights of individual citizens with respect to the actions of their government, the precise nature of these relations would be determined in large part by U.S. Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall.     

The Public Response to Controversial Supreme Court Decisions: The Insular Cases

In the Insular Cases, the Supreme Court established a new category of areas and persons coming under the sovereignty of the United States. Added to (1) the member states of the Union and (2) the existing territories (and states to be), was (3) territory "belonging to" the United States, but not a part of it. Justice Edward White proposed this doctrine—that territories were of two types, "incorporated" territories, those fit to be states, and non-incorporated territories, to be the property of the United States—in his concurring opinion in Downes v. Bidwell . ¹ Congress could govern these latter territories as it wished, subject to "fundamental" protections under the Constitution, those protecting individual liberties rather than those granting political participation.     

Swift and Erie: The Trials of an Ephemeral Landmark Case

Like jazz improvisation, the meaning of Swift v. Tyson was elusive. ¹ Justice Joseph Story's 1842 opinion concerning an important commercial‐law issue arose from a jury trial. ² When the creditor plaintiff appealed, counsel for the winning debtor raised as a defense Section 34 of the 1789 Judiciary Act. The federal circuit court disagreed about the standing of commercial law under Section 34. Although profound conflicts otherwise divided nationalist and states'‐rights proponents, the Supreme Court endorsed Story's commercial‐law opinion unanimously. ³ New members of the Court and the increasing number of federal lower‐court judges steadily transformed the Swift doctrine; after the Civil War it agitated the federal judiciary, elite lawyers, and Congress. ⁴ Asserting contrary tenets of American constitutionalism, the Supreme Court overturned the ninety‐six‐year‐old precedent in Erie Railroad v. Tompkins (1938). ⁵ The Swift doctrine's resonance with changing times was forgotten. The Court and the legal profession established, transformed, and abandoned the doctrine though an adversarial process and judicial instrumentalism. Although the policy of each decision reflected its time, Story's opinion was more consistent with the federalism of the early Constitution than was Erie. ⁶     

A New Standard of Review: Craig v. Boren and Brennan's “Heightened Scrutiny” Test in Historical Perspective

“To withstand constitutional challenge, previous cases establish that classifications by gender must serve important governmental objectives and must be substantially related to achievement of those objectives.” ¹ With this one statement, Justice William Brennan, Jr., writing for the majority in the 1976 Supreme Court case Craig v. Boren, ² both reversed the decision of the district court below and—more importantly—redefined the legal standard for equal protection in gender-discrimination cases. Brennan's statement encapsulated decades' worth of development and decisions under the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, which bars states from denying “to any person within [their] jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws,” ³ by creating what is now referred to as the “heightened scrutiny” ⁴ standard for judging equal protection legislation. Yet Brennan's creation of a new standard is quite striking, even when looked at in hindsight. How was Brennan able to create this standard of review, and where did it come from? Was this new step taken by the Justices under equal protection adjudication a mistake, or a necessary reality of the period? Through a close analysis of both the history of the Equal Protection Clause in its relation to gender legislation and the history of feminism during the 1960s and 1970s, the inevitability of Brennan's decision becomes clear. In fact, the creation of the heightened scrutiny standard was an inevitable outgrowth of two separate, yet fundamentally related progressions: the steps taken in the Court in its review of gender-discrimination cases in the years prior to Craig v. Boren; and the changes in society's relation to the feminist movement in the pre-1973 and post-1973 periods.     

Sovereignty and the Separation of Powers in John Locke

Locke's conceptualization of sovereignty and its uses, combining theological, social, and political perspectives, testifies to his intellectual profundity that was spurred by his endeavour to re-traditionalize a changing world. First, by relying on the traditional, personalistic notion of polity, Locke developed a concept of sovereignty that bore the same sense of authority as the “right of commanding” attributable only to real persons. Second, he managed to reconcile the unitary nature of sovereignty with the plurality of its uses, mainly through a conception of the dual, vertical separation of functions, which implied degrees rather than kinds of sovereignty. While absolute sovereignty belongs to God, Locke argued, relative sovereignty, separated into “potential” and “actual” sovereignty, is vested in the community on the grounds of the Edenic testament with God. The community, established by a fundamental, single contract, is divided into “society”—to fulfil the function of legislation, which signifies the potential sovereignty of the community, so as to cultivate common law, and into “government”—to undertake the execution, which signifies the actual sovereignty of the king, of common law so as to procure common wealth.     

The Judicial Bookshelf

Americans were reminded last January 20, as they are every four years, of the central moment at the Inauguration: the swearing in of the president. In this republican rite, the new or continuing chief executive publicly subordinates himself to the fundamental law of the land. As the Constitution dictates, "[b]efore he enters on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the following Oath or Affirmation: 'I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.'" ¹ Justices of the Supreme Court, other federal judges, legislators and officials, as well as state officeholders, likewise govern only upon making a similar pledge. "Senators and Representatives … , and the Members of the several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or Affirmation, to support this Constitution." ² And for added emphasis, protection, and insurance, the Constitution crowns itself, national statutes, and treaties as "the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding." ³ Parallel drama unfolds in other venues too. In the half century since all nominees to the Supreme Court have routinely appeared before the Senate Judiciary Committee, it would be difficult to find an example of a would-be Justice who, through one combination of words or another, did not promise senators that she or he would faithfully interpret and apply the Constitution.