Polled together, pushed apart. Howard Bashman (of
How Appealing) has a piece in Slate that argues against that perennial bugaboo,
judicial legislation, using last term's
Atkins case as a starting point. (See our own take on
Atkins here.)
Bashman's basic points are that "Whether one believes that the meaning of the Constitution is static and immutable or continuously evolving, turning to the blunt instrument of opinion polls ... produces a Constitution whose meaning is always in flux," and that the practice of "an unelected federal judiciary [being] responsible for resolving the most politically and socially divisive issues of our time" ends up only polarizing the electorate. Both are points well taken, but neither is simple.
Bashman's first argument is that attempting to divine rights law by way of public opinion is "unprincipled vacillation" yoked to constantly changing, and often contradictory, public desires. While this is certainly true, it is also a trivial point, since Bashman does not, and in the context of his article should not, offer any countervailing theories of rights.
It is his next point that is particularly interesting, and that forms the real muscle and sinew of his article. Bashman argues that "constitutionalizing" unenumerated rights, such as those surrounding abortion,
even when the legal results are close to those generally desired by society, may "caus[e] a national trend to become a national lightning rod." For example,
Roe v. Wade was decided "just as many states were already in the process of discarding the most opprobrious of the abortion restrictions then in existence," but the insertion of judicial fiat in what was generally assumed to be a legislative sphere resulted in those "passionately opposed to abortion ...band[ying] together to concentrate as much support as possible in favor of anti-abortion candidates for public office. ... Removing the right to abortion from the legislative process has thus made anti-abortion activists more politically powerful than they otherwise would have been had abortion rights been up for grabs each time citizens trekked to the voting booth."
This makes for a nice and subtle twist; by adding its weight to a political argument, the Court lulls one side to complacency while forcing the other to single-issue radicalism. What makes this assertion so contentious is that it strikes at some of our most cherished views of the law. Just how deeply it slices can be seen by changing our focus from one of the more controversial decisions,
Roe v. Wade, to one of the most hailed,
Brown v. Kansas Board of Education.
The Court struck down the
Plessy body of law with
Brown at a time when public attitudes were already changing, civil rights activism was on the rise, and steps -- small steps, to be sure -- were being made to integrate facilities.
Browder v. Gayle came as society was haltingly removing commercial barriers to integration. Perhaps -- there is controversy on this point -- the Court's rulings hastened the process of integration, but it did not initiate it. Indeed, a strong case has been made for the opposite effect: as Bashman argues in relation to
Roe v. Wade, the civil rights rulings served to spur little positive change, but may have focused and intensified violence against civil rights activists. (Likewise, Donald Horowitz, in his
The Courts and Social Policy -- hardly a clarion call against judicial legislation -- examines judicial attempts to legislate greater procedural protections within the criminal justice system, and concludes that they had little positive effect on the actions of police at the street level.)
I should step back for a moment to make one thing clear: from a moral perspective, there is no question that decisions such as
Brown and
Browder were utterly correct. But as counterintuitive as it may seem, it is possible for a decision to be morally defensible but not justified within the bounds of political philosophy, principle, and practice. To what extent does morality trump procedural concerns?
Because of the changing nature of society during the civil rights decisions, we can now move to the question of whether it is the place of the courts to move to correct a wrong with maximum speed when the political process is already moving in that direction (I'm deliberately stepping around the question of times when there is little or no inclination to make changes --
Griswold privacy and the like are worth a thousand blogs on their own merits).
On the one hand, we can observe that democracies cannot and do not guarantee that any outcome will be arrived at on an immediate, or even near-term basis, even if the continued absence of that outcome is morally repugnant. If the slow wheels of democracy are turning in the appropriate direction, should the courts interfere to hasten the decision? In a case such as
Brown, which rested upon legal realist, not formalist, doctrines, the issue is even more pointed.
On the other hand, one might appeal to Gladstone's epigraph, "Justice delayed is justice denied." If the courts had only ruled after a political consensus had been reached, integration might have been even slower; had they never ruled at all, some communities even today might still be segregated, although they would certainly be so marginalized as to not even register on national, or even regional, scales.
1 But even so, one can't shake the feeling that the court is acting as a bully pulpit in such cases, a right that was never imputed to them under the Constitution.
There is no easy resolution to these questions under most interpretations of American rights law, and one suspects that there is no single answer for any given rights problem. But Bashman raises a set of questions that are all too often ignored when courts create fiat rights, or develop social policy that goes beyond traditional formalist constraints.
1Actually, some places still fit this description: Vidor, in East Texas, was a haven for segregationists fleeing integrating communities, and thus even today is a de facto segregated town. Managing economic development for a town known largely for its KKK population is not an enviable task. The continued existence, some fifty years after Brown, of such locales suggests that attempts to set judicial "floors" for civic behavior are no match for a determined band of yahoos.