A little over a week ago, Michael Dorf wrote an article in Verdict regarding oral arguments in New York State Rifle & Pistol Association Inc. v. Bruen. This is the Supreme Court's most significant Second Amendment case since McDonald v. City of Chicago, in which the Court incorporated the Second Amendment, holding that it applies against state restrictions on the right to keep and bear arms. The Supreme Court's prior opinion in District of Columbia v. Heller, two years before, had only held that the Second Amendment applied to federal restrictions.
New York State Rifle & Pistol Association, like McDonald, involves a non-federal restriction on firearms. Most rights included in the Bill of Rights have been incorporated to apply against state and local governments--with the Supreme Court basing this incorporation in the Fourteenth Amendment's Due Process Clause. Justice Thomas has previously argued for an alternate approach to incorporation, arguing that the Privileges or Immunities Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment is the basis to apply the Second Amendment (and other rights enshrined in the Bill of Rights) against the states.
Dorf focuses on a question that Justice Thomas asked during oral argument:
Attorney Paul Clement argued the case for the plaintiffs. He contended that “history and tradition” supported his position. Justice Thomas, who, more than any of his colleagues, espouses originalism, understood Clement’s invocation of history to imply that the Court should look at what the constitutional text meant to the People who ratified it. But that then raised a question. Justice Thomas asked: “should we look at the founding, or should we look at the time of the adoption of the Fourteenth Amendment, which then, of course, applies it to the states?”
Clement, a former Solicitor General of the United States, is an excellent lawyer, so he gave the answer that best served his clients: it doesn’t matter. Whether you look at the original public meaning in 1791, when the Second Amendment was ratified, or at the original public meaning in 1868, you will find the same answer: a right of generally law-abiding citizens to carry firearms in public.
Is that right? As I discussed in an article published in the Northwestern University Law Review earlier this year, there is reason to believe (and sources cited in footnote 37 of my article conclude) that the People who ratified the Second Amendment understood its language to prevent the federal government from disarming state militias but not to have many implications for individual firearms possession, while the People who ratified the Fourteenth Amendment in 1868 understood at least some kind of individual right to keep and bear arms to be among the privileges and immunities that the provision secured against state interference. (emphasis added).
Most of the cases incorporating provisions of the Bill of Rights against the states arose during the 1960s. During that era, the Justices debated whether the Fourteenth Amendment incorporates Bill of Rights provisions against the states in exactly the way they apply to the federal government—a position sometimes called “jot-for-jot” incorporation—or whether in some instances the incorporated right might have different implications for the states.
We have already encountered one reason why a right might be different as applied to the federal government and the states: perhaps by the time the People ratified the Fourteenth Amendment in 1868, their understanding of the right had changed from the views that prevailed when the original Bill of Rights was ratified in 1791. Federalism provides another explanation: within broad bounds, each of the fifty states might be permitted some leeway in light of distinctive traditions and variations in their legal systems.
Despite the appeal of history and federalism, the Court eventually settled on jot-for-jot incorporation. Indeed, just last year, in Ramos v. Louisiana, Justice Neil Gorsuch, writing for the majority, decisively “rejected the notion that the Fourteenth Amendment applies to the States only a watered-down, subjective version of the individual guarantees of the Bill of Rights” (citations and internal quotation marks omitted). In Ramos, the Court held that the Fourteenth Amendment’s incorporation of the Sixth Amendment’s right to jury trial in criminal cases precludes conviction based on a non-unanimous jury decision in state court, just as in federal court.
Dorf notes that Thomas, as well as other justices who've authored or signed opinions regarding the scope of incorporated amendments (including Justice Gorsuch in Ramos) claim to be originalists. I've written about originalism before, both here and in longer work. Most modern versions of originalism hold that the meaning of the Constitution and its amendments are fixed at the time of ratification, and that the original public meaning of those provisions at the time of enactment is the same meaning that should be applied today. That notion of fixed meaning (sometimes described as the "fixation thesis") is accepted by most modern academic originalists.
But if meaning is fixed at the time of ratification, then most of the amendments in the Bill of Rights likely apply differently against state and local law than they do against federal laws. That's because these amendments don't apply directly to state laws. Instead, they apply to states via the Fourteenth Amendment, which was ratified 1868--many years after the amendments were originally enacted at the end of the 1700s. During those years, the public's understanding of the often broad, abstract, and value-charged language of these amendments likely changed to some degree. And yet, self-proclaimed originalists on the Court pay little mind to this--indeed some have explicitly rejected it. Take McDonald, the case that incorporated the Second Amendment against the states. There, Justice Scalia--recognized as the highest profile originalist to sit on the court--joined in the portion of Justice Alito's opinion that explicitly rejected the notion that the Fourteenth Amendment may provide a different level of protection to the right to bear arms:
[Justice Stevens] would hold that "[t]he rights protected against state infringement by the Fourteenth Amendment's Due Process Clause need not be identical in shape or scope to the rights protected against Federal Government infringement by the various provisions of the Bill of Rights." Post, at 3093.
As we have explained, the Court, for the past half century, has moved away from the two-track approach. If we were now to accept Justice STEVENS' theory across the board, decades of decisions would be undermined. We assume that this is not what is proposed. What is urged instead, it appears, is that this theory be revived solely for the individual right that Heller recognized, over vigorous dissents.
Justice Thomas, it should be noted, did not join in this portion of the opinion.
Alito's view is hardly without historic support. The Court has long refused to recognize differing levels of protection by the Fourteenth Amendment, warning against a potential dilution of protection against state law enforcement compared with federal law enforcement and raising the specter of incongruous enforcement of constitutional rights against different government actors. Take Justice Brennan's opinion for the Court in Malloy v. Hogan:
The Court thus has rejected the notion that the Fourteenth Amendment applies to the States only a "watered-down, subjective version of the individual guarantees of the Bill of Rights," Ohio ex rel. Eaton v. Price, 364 U. S. 263, 275 (dissenting opinion). If Cohen v. Hurley, 366 U. S. 117, and Adamson v. California, supra, suggest such an application of the privilege against self-incrimination, that suggestion cannot survive recognition of the degree to which the Twining view of the privilege has been eroded. What is accorded is a privilege of refusing to incriminate one's self, and the feared prosecution may be by either federal or state authorities. Murphy v. Waterfront Comm'n, post, p. 52. It would be incongruous to have different standards determine the validity of a claim of privilege based on the same feared prosecution, depending on whether the claim was asserted in a state or federal court. Therefore, the same standards must determine whether an accused's silence in either a federal or state proceeding is justified. (emphasis added).
Incongruous as such a legal regime would be, it would at least be an originalist one. Refusing to apply two different standards rejects the fixation thesis in favor of the broader goal of a consistent set of rules governing the scope of constitutional amendments. This goal may be sensible, but it isn't consistent with originalism. And this ignorance of basic originalist principles may not always be in the service of such noble goals, as Dorf argues:
To be sure, in Ramos, as in McDonald, Justice Thomas concurred separately to insist that the Privileges or Immunities Clause, rather than the Due Process Clause, does the work of incorporation. But for him as well as his colleagues, originalism—which allows for changed meanings between 1791 and 1868—stood as no obstacle to full incorporation, which they favored on what pretty clearly appeared to be policy grounds.
In that respect, the irrelevance of Justice Thomas’s question—1791 or 1868?—jibes with everything else we know about originalism. In the most hotly contested cases that come before the Supreme Court, arguments rooted in original meaning typically serve a rhetorical function. Justices invoke them to justify decisions taken on other, ideological, grounds.
What are the implications of all of this?
First, it suggests that as much as originalist scholars may argue in favor of originalism, these arguments seem to have little impact on the Court's actual practice, which consistently ignores (and is based in a history of ignoring) the notion that constitutional provisions' meanings are fixed at the time of enactment. Originalists may respond that failures to appropriately apply originalism should not count against the theory itself. Indeed, some argue that the recognition of such failures by the professoriate turns out to be a point in favor of originalism. Leaving a thorough response to that peculiar defense for another day, I will note for now that if the Court continues to consistently misapply originalism (and reach decisions based on the foundation of jot-for-jot case law), there ought to come a point where originalists should ask themselves whether everything they are working for is really worth it.
Second, the longstanding failure of the Court to recognize that the meaning of constitutional provisions are fixed at the time of reenactment in the Fourteenth Amendment context threatens a recent trend in originalist scholarship arguing for a positivist take on the theory. This "positivist turn" in originalist theory (very broadly and briefly summarized), argues that originalism is our law, and that it should be followed because judges promise to follow the law. If the Court's history of failing to apply the original public meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment forms the basis for a great deal of constitutional law, the thesis that originalism is, in fact, our law is significantly undermined.
Third, the issue of whether to interpret early Amendments based on their meaning at the time of the founding or at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment's ratification represents a subsection of a debate over when the Constitution's meaning should be fixed. For the most part, this debate is sadly limited--originalists argue for fixation at the time of ratification, a few people (and I) argue that provisions should be read based on present public meaning, and the Court apparently favors fixation at the time of the founding, 1868 be damned. But there are more options. Why should we consider the meaning of the Constitution as fixed at any point before the Fifteenth Amendment barred the United States and the states from denying the right to vote based on race in 1870? Why shouldn't the meaning of the Constitution be fixed in 1920 when the 19th Amendment's ratification guaranteed women the right to vote? Some may argue that the Constitution has mechanisms for amendments built in, and that this "potential sovereignty" somehow ameliorates the failure of earlier iterations of the Constitution to accommodate the democratic input of those it governs and protects. But this doesn't account for the fact that determinations of original public meaning tend to focus on the voices of those who played a role in the drafting, adoption, and ratification of constitutional provisions, and that the voices of women and African Americans were absent from these contexts for centuries. Those historically excluded from voting may not want to completely do away with the Constitution and amendments as they're worded, but they ought to have some sort of a say in the meaning of these provisions if we're going to claim with a straight face that the Constitution represents the popular will of a supermajority of Americans.
While I have dozens of depositions and hundreds of other projects and emergencies to worry about over the next few months, I'm sure I'll find the time to write more on these issues. In the meantime, we'll see if any of the Justices make an effort to differentiate between or justify particular historic reference points for their constitutional interpretations when the opinion in New York State Rifle & Pistol Association is eventually issued.
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