Originalism and Selective Historic Reference Points

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).

Dorf notes that the Court, both historically and now, has refused to find that constitutional amendments incorporated through the Fourteenth Amendment offer differing limits on the power of state governments compared to the federal government:

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.

In Praise of Legal Oddities: Explaining My Research Agenda

During my second year of law school and for a few years thereafter, I dove into the world of writing and publishing legal scholarship. I wrote or coauthored seven law review articles from my second year of law school until about a year after graduation. All this while I was going to class, blogging, doing law review and moot court, and (in my third year of law school) working as a TA in undergraduate philosophy classes. 

My writing came to a halt when I began practicing civil litigation. Billable hours, being expected to read and respond to emails at any given moment, and learning the ropes of a new field (after a year doing criminal law) took up virtually all hours of my day. Unable to find a balance between work and free time, the time and energy I needed to write legal scholarship vanished.

After a few years of this (and after a few lateral moves), I ended up where I am now. I'm still busy, and the work is more complex and engaging than ever, but I've been able to strike a better degree of balance at my current firm. Because of this (and because of my need to find a distraction during several particularly difficult evenings of non-billable e-discovery administration work), I decided I'd try to get back into the game of legal scholarship. This led to my first published article in nearly six years--Shooting Fish.

I wrote Shooting Fish for fun--although a need for a thorough study of every state's laws restricting shooting fish with guns also came about due to a desire for completeness after writing an initial, partial draft of the article. It's my hope that the finished product demonstrates how much fun I had writing and researching it. 

Beyond being a fun article to write, and getting a bit of attention from others in the legal community, Shooting Fish reinvigorated my interest in academic writing and research. I began some serious research into originalism and related constitutional issues along with other timely legal topics. But I also kept my eye out for quirky subjects that could be the next fun article--something that could distract from the rigors of everyday work.

Fast-forward to today. I have three more articles accepted for publication, and two others completed and pending acceptance (although my hopes for one of them aren't too high). My writing at this point can be classified into about three rough categories:

1. Writing on legal issues relevant, or tangentially relevant, to my civil litigation practice. This takes up the smallest portion of my recent writing, and consists primarily of my article, The Citation of Unpublished Cases in the Wake of COVID-19. 
2. Critiquing constitutional originalism. My friend Al Hiland and I coauthored Originalism's Implementation Problem, which marks the start of a larger project of critiquing originalism. Our broader project is to undercut originalism as an acceptable theory of constitutional interpretation, and begins with exposing the gaps between academic originalism and "originalism" as described in politics and judicial practice. I've already written another article in this vein critiquing recent work by Stephen Sachs on treating originalism as a standard, rather than implementation procedure, and there are several other outlines and drafts in the pipeline.
3. Legal oddities. Continuing the work that I started with Shooting Fish, I've written two other articles exploring odd and underdiscussed areas of law. I've written a survey of attempts at invoking trial by combat in the United States and England, and I've written about the Third Amendment and how it was invoked in litigation, scholarship, and the media in 2020. I have the most topics and articles in the queue in this category--with plans to write about the use of dreams in evidence, the historic and modern treatment of animals as villains by the law, and (perhaps) a discussion of historic litigation over church pews and how these frequent historic disputes are referenced in modern statutes.

The traditional value of the first two categories of my articles should be fairly apparent. Writing on legal issues related to my litigation work demonstrates that I know what I'm talking about, that I've taken these issues seriously, and is helpful for the firm, which can point to this article as evidence that its attorneys know their stuff when it comes to litigating relevant matters. The originalism scholarship is valuable from a traditional legal academic perspective--originalism is a subject of great debate and volumes have been written expounding various theories and tearing those theories down. Decent scholarship in this area is relevant to high profile cases and political issues, and can demonstrate an author's knowledge of constitutional law and legal theory.

But where is the value in writing about shooting fish, trial by combat, the Third Amendment, and other odd areas of the law? Why is this such a large portion of what I'm writing about?

To start, there's practical and professional value in writing about these issues. It isn't as easy to find the key cases and scholarship for quirky research topics as it is with more mainstream issues like originalism. Researching these issues to the degree necessary to provide a useful, thorough treatment hones my abilities and demonstrates that I, as a litigation associate, am ready to get into the weeds of all sorts of topics. Writing these articles also helps develop my writing skills as a litigator. It's not enough to research the nuances of weird topics, they also need to be presented in a clear and engaging manner to keep the audience's interest. As it turns out, the same is true of writing persuasive motions in litigation. In writing scholarship on legal oddities, I draw on the writing skills I've learned as a litigator and am able to further hone those skills.

There's also academic value in writing about seemingly trivial topics. While shooting fish with guns and demanding trial by combat may, at first glance, seem irrelevant to mainstream legal issues or practice, in-depth discussion of these subjects implicates a wide range of relationships and connections with modern law and important policy issues. Laws against shooting fish with guns have constitutional implications, they can be used to illustrate effective or ineffective methods of drafting statutes, and they have bearing on environmental research and considerations that give rise to these laws in the first place. The Third Amendment illustrates how arguments may be made regarding constitutional rights in a near-vacuum of scholarship and case law, and is frequently cited by courts as an example of the Constitution's respect for privacy, the home, and freedom from government interference in people's daily lives. Exploring the implications that obscure laws and topics have on the broader framework of law and policy reveals new ways of thinking about commonplace issues, new connections between seemingly disparate policy considerations, and gives the reader and writer a more thorough understanding of the legal system.

Ultimately, though, the main reason I write about these topics is because it's fun.

Writing as an associate at a firm, rather than as a fellow or professor, comes with some disadvantages. My job requires long hours, hard work, and--when busy--becomes nearly all-consuming. If I'm going to write legal scholarship, it needs to be in my spare time, and I need to find the motivation to write after practicing law every day. Writing about topics that interest and educate me is enjoyable in itself, and provides the motivation necessary to write, even if I've been churning away on motions, pleadings, or hearings for many hours that day. 

There are also advantages to writing as an associate. I don't need to pigeonhole my research interests into subjects that I think would are inherently of interest to a mainstream academic audience or tenure committee. I just need to make sure that my writing is well-researched and engaging. I also need to make sure that I'm not disclosing any work product or writing something that has negative implications for my clients and cases, but thus far I haven't had much of an issue with this when writing my quirky articles. Perhaps, some day, I'll have a client that wants to demand trial by combat, at which point my scholarship will come back to haunt me. Until then, I'll continue to enjoy writing what I want.

Academic legal writing as a fun undertaking isn't discussed much, but it isn't a completely novel concept. In Scholarship As Fun, Thomas Schultz advocates for the pursuit of fun in scholarship, noting that it is likely to prompt more varied, and--on the whole--better work than scholarship motivated by other considerations:

And when we seek fun, the fun of a joyful, life-affirming, mind and heart-changing, soullifting freer existence, we are likely to engage in creative productivity. We are led to roguish experimentation, to playing legal punk, to throwing inter-temporal surrealist parties of legal thought. And all of them help us see something. As Karl Popper, and others, have suggested, for instance through the idea of truthlikeness and verisimilitude, it is quite unlikely that any given account of mostly any phenomenon is perfect, in the sense that it captures all the elements of the phenomenon and predicts with flawless accuracy what the phenomenon is going to do in a given situation. And so competing coexisting accounts of the same phenomenon are welcome, even if they are mutually exclusive; they provide a richer overall understanding, even if from the relative perspective of each the other account must be wrong. The same idea can be applied to normative theories just as it is to descriptive ones, and to anything in between, to any particular resultant of the dialectic relationship that these two opposite poles entertain (there is always some normative aesthetic prefiguration in any description, as the discussion so far has implicitly argued, and there is always some descriptive preunderstanding in a normative statement).

Other legal scholars' work seems motivated by fun more than anything--Brian Frye is probably one of the most obvious examples.

I acknowledge that the pursuit of fun may be a limited option for those in the academy--especially junior scholars. The legal academic job market is intense, with ever-increasing expectations by hiring and tenure committees that applicants publish mainstream scholarship in prestigious law reviews. Those law reviews also tend to accept scholarship that will make them look good, focusing on popular, well-trodden subjects and favoring work by well known professors.

An aside: I was an articles editor for the UCLA Law Review years ago, and I remember a submission we received from a practicing attorney. I couldn't tell you today who the author was or what the article was about, but I still remember that the article was written in an extremely formal, stilted, hypertechnical manner to the point where it was virtually unreadable. I suspect that the author didn't normally write that way, but that he had tailored his presentation to what he expected an academic publisher wanted. In doing so, he fell into the trap of writing too much like his vision of an academic, and not enough like a normal person.

Law reviews have fallen into a similar trap--they're motivated to publish too much like what they envision law reviews to be. Law reviews consider (and often prioritize) a submission's likeliness of being cited, author prestige, and the popularity of subject matter when deciding to publish a particular article. There's pressure on them to do so--few topics of discussion are more popular among established professors than lamenting their own students' fitness as publishers of legal scholarship. As a result, most journals avoid "risky" scholarship, which in turn causes scholars motivated by the job hunt or tenure prospects to abstain from writing such scholarship. The machine that encourages the publication of mainstream, traditional, and often boring scholarship perpetuates itself.

How can law reviews and authors go about rediscovering the joy of writing legal scholarship for fun? On a narrow level, I think that established professors and authors who don't face the same risks and pressures of junior scholar should do more to promote the publication of nontraditional scholarship. Professors with tenure, for example, could write about less-popular, or downright odd, subjects to shed light on these areas of the law. Where these professors go, other writers and journals will likely follow. Prestigious professors should also cite to and engage with nontraditional scholarship and authors--for example, they should consider publishing and citing to online supplements, and citing authors who aren't tenure-track law professors. And while I know from experience that it's a tall order, authors who don't face the tenure and hiring pressures of academia--say, attorneys working for law firms, the government, and nonprofit organizations--should consider writing and publishing about the subjects they love most. In order for quirky scholarship to get published, it needs to be written. It's my dream to see more practitioners getting involved in the world of legal scholarship (rather than limiting themselves to short form legal newsletters and periodicals).

On a broad level, I think that people at all levels of the legal community need to reevaluate the value of quirky legal scholarship. Articles about offhand topics may, at first, seem irrelevant, but well-written and researched scholarship may offer valuable insights and angles for thinking about more mainstream subjects and fields. Legal reasoning is, to a large extent, an art of arguing from analogies, and the more subject matter that people consider and write about, the more resources there are to make these arguments. Finally, spending time on pursuing quirky subjects--which often stem from what authors are most interested in and excited about--will likely improve the lives of those who write and consume legal scholarship.

Schauer on "Unoriginal Textualism"

 Frederick Schauer recently posted an article, Unoriginal Textualism, on SSRN. Here is the abstract:

The burgeoning debates about constitutional interpretation show no signs of abating. With surprisingly few exceptions, however, those debates involve a contrast between textualism understood as some form of originalism, on the one hand, and various varieties of less textually focused living constitutionalism, on the other. In conflating textualism with originalism, however, the existing debates ignore the possibility of a non-originalist textualism – a textualism tethered not to original intent and not to original public meaning but, instead, to contemporary public meaning – public meaning now. This article explains the plausibility of just such an “unoriginal” textualism and argues that it might serve the guidance and constraint functions of a constitution better than any of the alternatives now on offer.

This approach to constitutional interpretation is very much in line with a "present public meaning" approach suggested at the end of an article that I coauthored with Al Hiland. That article focused on difficulties that originalists face in implementing their theories--focusing, in particular, on the inability of judges and attorneys to engage in the necessary historic research to determine the original public meaning of constitutional provisions. This is a significant problem for originalists, most of whom argue (in one way or another) that the Constitution should be interpreted based on its original public meaning.

After surveying and describing obstacles to determining original public meaning and arguing that reliance on legal academics was unlikely to be the solution that some originalists hope it to be, we propose the alternate theory that rather than being bound by the original public meaning of the Constitution and its amendments, that courts be bound by the present public meaning:

In the context of this Article’s criticism, the present public meaning approach seems appealing—it avoids the need for the complicated and goal-oriented method of studying the constitutional record and the undefined, unworkable method of immersion. It likely leads to much more thorough and representative corpus linguistics analysis, as the internet enables the construction of corpora that are magnitudes more extensive and representative than those available for founding era language. And it better prevents scholars, advocates, and courts from reaching politically motivated conclusions by modernizing the basis for interpretation— allowing the general public to check or speak out against mistakes, rather than letting courts hide behind a curtain of selective historic citations. As for concerns about linguistic drift, this can be minimized by reading the text of the Constitution as a whole with an eye to relevant context thereby avoiding absurd results that originalists flag.

I tend to refer to this approach as the "present public meaning" interpretive approach (I supposed I could also refer to it as "present public meaning textualism"). Schauer refers to this as "unoriginal textualism" or "non-original textualism." 

Schauer points out that the fact that the Constitution is written does not preclude expansive and flexible interpretations--noting that Chief Justice Marshall suggested as much in McCulloch v. Maryland. Rather than seeking to be bound by the past in interpreting the Constitution--say by original intent or original public meaning--Schauer suggests that the text still be treated as authoritative, but that its meaning be determined in light of the present meaning of the text. 

After amassing examples of how the Constitution is not written to speak only to judges, but also to members of the public, Congress, jurors, and others, Schauer writes:

An important feature of these and countless other examples is that often there is no Supreme Court decision dealing with the question, and there is often neither the time nor the resources for the constrained official to try to figure out what some word or phrase or sentence was publicly understood to mean in 1787, or 1791, or 1868. As a result, if it is important that the Constitution constrain officials, and if it is important that it do so even in the absence of litigation, then it follows that it is equally important that those whom the Constitution seeks to constrain be able to understand the Constitution directly. And although the Constitution’s for all practical purposes unremediable vaguenesses may make such an aspiration a fantasy for many of the document’s most consequential provisions, it does not do so for all of them. And for those words and phrases that do have relatively determinate meanings, the constraint function can be served only if we understand the Constitution to mean now what its language means now to its addressees. This is textualism, but it is not the textualism of meanings from a century and a half to more than two centuries ago. It is the textualism of the text now, and thus of the text’s meaning now. It is the textualism that tells Congress how to count the votes of the presidential electors without having to engage in extensive historical research, just as it is the textualism that does the same for the Senate in determining how to conduct an impeachment trial, for the prosecutor deciding whether to present evidence coming from a witness not present for trial, and for any official seeking to determine what the Constitution requires under circumstances in which no court has yet authoritatively adjudicated the issue.

The argument for contemporary meaning textualism, therefore, is the argument from guidance. The most obvious manifestation of that guidance function comes when the Constitution constrains even well-meaning officials from doing what they would otherwise be inclined to do on policy or political grounds, but the guidance function is not limited to constraining. As the examples of counting electoral votes and determining impeachment procedures illustrate, guidance is applicable even when constraint, in the sense of second-order constitutional constraints on first-order policy preferences, is not at issue. But whether constraining or just instructing, the Constitution, as with any other law, is likely to operate most efficiently and effectively when its addresses know what the law requires without the intervention of the courts. If we think that “Stop” signs work best when motorists stop simply because the sign tells them to, then we can imagine the same dynamic, at one or several removes, for the Constitution. And if we believe that, then we should accept the value of a constitution that can, in theory and even sometimes in practice, guide in much the same way as the “Stop” sign guides. And for this guidance to be effective, the guiding document must speak the same language as those it addresses. Contemporary meaning textualism is based on the idea that only if we understand the language of the Constitution as it means now can those who seek guidance now know what the Constitution requires of them. [footnotes omitted]

I'm inclined to agree, and I think it is correct to consider the Constitution in a broader perspective as being interpreted by people and institutions other than the Supreme Court. Not only does a present public meaning approach better guide these actors in interpreting the Constitution, but it allows these actors to better check the Supreme Court, which--if this interpretive method were adopted--would also need to interpret the Constitution and its amendments based on the present public meaning of their provisions. Members of the general public are more likely to be able to readily critique the Court should it depart from the present public meaning of the text. Under alternate approaches, such as original public meaning originalism, the Court may use selective or incomplete citation to historic sources (or to secondary sources providing their own accounts of historic meaning) to reach a desired outcome in a particular case. Parsing through this analysis may prove difficult for the general public--certainly more difficult than evaluating analysis based on the present public meaning of constitutional text.

I'll likely have more to say in the future in support of the present public meaning approach. It's something I've considered for a while, as some of my earliest thoughts and concerns with originalism arose from how the theory renders modernization of the Constitution's meaning impossible. The present public meaning approach also appears preferable from a democratic perspective, accounting for the views of those around today, including African-Americans and women who were unable to vote on or approve any constitutional provisions or Amendments until the passage of the 15th and 19th Amendments. 

These thoughts on this interpretive approach are in their early stages, but Schauer's article represents a significant step towards this method gaining further attention and support. I can only hope that work and other circumstances permit me the time to develop these ideas before next Spring.

Candeub and Volokh on Section 230 and Removing "Otherwise Objectionable" Content From Websites

 At Volokh Conspiracy, Eugene Volokh flags a brief article that he coauthored with Adam Candeub that was recently published in the Journal of Free Speech Law. Here's the abstract:

[Communications Decency Act] Section 230(c)(2) immunizes platforms' decisions to block material that they "consider[] to be obscene, lewd, lascivious, filthy, excessively violent, harassing, or otherwise objectionable." The ejusdem generis interpretive canon suggests that "otherwise objectionable" should be read "to embrace only objects similar in nature to those objects enumerated by the preceding specific words."

In this instance, the similarity is that all those words refer to material that was traditionally viewed as regulable in electronic communications media—and was indeed regulated by the Communications Decency Act of 1996, as part of which § 230 was enacted. And restrictions on speech on "the basis of its political or religious content" were not viewed as generally permissible, even in electronic communications.

Candeub and Volokh argue that "otherwise objectionable" material should not be interpreted as a catch all category, but should instead be construed in light of the other terms in Section 230(c)(2)'s list of materials. As a result, they urge that Section 230(c)(2) be read as immunizing Internet companies and websites from restricting "obscene, lewd, lascivious, filthy, excessively violent, or harassing communications," and that the statute not be read to immunize these actors from the removal of content that is objectionable based on its political content.

I think there are several problems with this argument. With the caveats that these are my initial impressions and that it's been a while since I've done intensive research into Section 230, these concerns are listed below. I've tried to list my objections in order of most technical and specific first, followed by broader points.

First, I think the ejusdem generis interpretive canon has less power in the particular context here because Section 230(c)(2) immunizes platforms' decisions to block "otherwise objectionable" content rather than "other objectionable" content. The latter wording would be a clear example of specific terms followed by a general term, and would be in line with most examples in Candeub's and Volokh's article which involve statutes listing examples, followed by "other" things. But the way the statute is actually worded includes the term, "otherwise," which suggests material that is objectionable in ways that are distinct from the preceding examples. Candeub and Volokh do not address this, and their esjudem generis argument therefore seems stronger than the language of the statute warrants, as it implicitly reads the statute as prohibiting "other objectionable" content rather than "otherwise objectionable" content.

Second, this reading takes an overly narrow view of the purpose of the provision it analyzes and the Stratton Oakmont, Inc. v. Prodigy Services Co. case that played a significant role in prompting the inclusion of the provision. In Stratton Oakmont, the plaintiff sued a website message board for defamation based on several allegedly defamatory posts from message board users. The plaintiff alleged that the message board was liable because it exercised editorial control over the message board, noting that the site set forth detailed content guidelines that discourage the posting of "insulting" notes, as well as notes that "harass other members or are deemed to be in bad taste or grossly repugnant to community standards, or are deemed harmful to maintaining a harmonious online community" stating that such content would be removed when brought to the site's attention. The court cited this choice to engage in this editorial control as opening up the site to greater liability than other sites that did not take such measures. 

Congress was aware of this case when it passed Section 230, which Candeub and Volokh recognize. But they only focus on remarks from legislators who cite the blocking of material that is not "family-friendly," which (sort of) lines up with their restrictive reading of the statute. But this narrow focus ignores the extent of editorial restrictions at play in Stratton Oakmont, which included guidelines for the removal of "insulting," [non]-harmonious," and "bad taste" comments. It also suggests a narrow view of "family friendly," content, which may well exclude truthful, politically significant content such as images and discussions of war or terrorism, litigation and legislation over sexual privacy and abortion, and other such political content. Stratton Oakmont illustrated the danger of any sort of editorial policy giving rise to heightened liability, and Section 230(c)(2) was the response. Candeub and Volokh's narrow reading is inconsistent with this broad concern that prompted the immunity provision.

Third, a reading of the statute that removes immunity concerning the removal of political content while immunizing the removal of other content would run into significant First Amendment problems. Those who run websites or forums may have their own political preferences, and may moderate content based on these preferences. Limiting this ability would infringe on those providers' First Amendment rights--an aspect of online content moderation that is often ignored by Section 230 critics (and misinterpreters) who prefer to focus only on the purported rights of users.

To Candeub's and Volokh's credit, they recognize that the First Amendment may be relevant, but set it aside for the purpose of their article. Because of this, though, the article's analysis is in a misleading vacuum.  What is the point of this discussion about ejusdem generis if the First Amendment will ultimately require a different reading? Indeed, the First Amendment may well be relevant to discussions of interpretive canons: to the extent that the narrow reading of "otherwise objectionable" content leads to First Amendment problems, the canon of constitutional avoidance would weigh in favor of an expansive interpretation that avoids this issue.

These are my initial concerns with the conclusions in the article, but I'll be interested in seeing what others have to say--particularly those who are more involved in Section 230 research and litigation than me.

Pennsylvania State Legislator Contemplates Statewide Law Against "Distracted Walking"

A recent editorial from TN Online reports:

State Rep. Karen Boback, a Republican whose district includes parts of Luzerne and Lackawanna counties, says she is going to introduce legislation that provides penalties for walkers who are inattentive while crossing a street or highway.

In a memo to legislative colleagues seeking co-sponsors for her bill, Boback said that distracting walking is a “very real and serious issue.”

Boback is most concerned with pedestrians who are inattentive because they are engrossed in conversations on their cellphones or are listening to music or other programming.

“Technology has invaded our life, and, as a result, people have stopped paying attention to their surroundings,” Boback wrote.

More reporting on this is available at Patch. It isn't clear why Boback is choosing to take a stand against "distracted walking." The TN Online writer notes that fewer pedestrians were killed by drivers in 2020 than in 2019. Of those 145 deaths, there is no indication how many of them, if any, were due to pedestrians who were distracted. 

Seeking to do Boback's job of justifying her proposed policy, the article cites a Governors Highway Safety Association Report which purportedly shows that "texting while walking has taken on a key role in pedestrian death in recent years as communication devices have become more mobile, compact, and numerous." The article fails to link to the report, or provide a year for when it was written. It may be citing this 2016 report which speculates that pedestrian distractions are contributing to pedestrian deaths and injuries, although it explicitly states that it "remains unknown" how many pedestrians killed in crashes with distracted drivers were themselves distracted. The report cites instances and studies suggesting that pedestrian distractions are on the rise, but does not draw a link between such distractions and traffic deaths. Indeed, a New York study specifically investigating whether distracted walking contributed to pedestrian fatalities and injuries found "little concrete evidence" of a connection.

The Pennsylvania law appears to be in its early stages, as it does not appear that a statute has been drafted yet. Hopefully Boback will give the bill some more thought and conclude that it isn't worth it. Indeed, her basis for contemplating the bill appears to be anecdotal notions of technology "invading" people's lives. Reports on her proposal have to do the work themselves to dig up evidence supporting measures restricting texting while walking, and these reports often fail to confirm a link between instances of distracted walking and increased pedestrian deaths. As I have noted before, legislators seeking to prevent traffic deaths, and particularly pedestrian deaths, would do better to focus on infrastructure by making cities and towns safer for pedestrians. This includes increasing the number of crosswalks, ensuring adequate lighting, lowering speed limits, and reducing the width of streets, among other measures. Boback herself appears to have been involved in such infrastructure measures in the recent past, which makes it all the more surprising that she is seeking to put the onus on pedestrians--who are most at risk of death or serious injury. A statewide restriction on distracted walking is a blunt instrument that targets the wrong actors and ignores factors that lead to greater risks of pedestrian death and injury.

In addition to being misguided from a public safety perspective, laws against distracted walking criminalize ubiquitous behavior, which promotes selective enforcement. Many people check their phones while walking, including while crossing the street. As a result, police officers tasked with the enforcing the law will use their discretion to determine who to stop and ticket for these violations, meaning that the brunt of any law will likely fall more heavily on people in poorer neighborhoods and racial minorities.

A few cities and municipalities in the United States and other countries have banned various forms of walking while on the phone or while using other electronic devices. All of these measures target a phenomenon that most have likely observed or experienced, but which has little ultimate impact on pedestrian safety--at least when compared with other measures that legislatures can take to reduce traffic deaths and injuries. This story is notable because it suggests that a statewide ban may be possible. One can only hope that the bill, if it is ever written, will fail to gain the support necessary to become law.

Iowa's Law Targeting "Critical Race Theory"

A few weeks ago, Iowa's governor signed a law that she claimed would address the teaching of "critical race theory." Shortly after she signed the bill into law, the Des Moines Register reported:

Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds signed a new law that she said will target the teaching of critical race theory and other concepts in government diversity trainings and classroom curriculum.

“Critical Race Theory is about labels and stereotypes, not education. It teaches kids that we should judge others based on race, gender or sexual identity, rather than the content of someone’s character,” Reynolds said in a statement. “I am proud to have worked with the legislature to promote learning, not discriminatory indoctrination.”

Critical race theory, a decades-old legal theory that examines how slavery's legacy continues to influence American society, is not specifically named in the new legislation. But the law would ban teaching certain concepts, such as that the U.S. or Iowa is systemically racist.

The new law, House File 802, goes into effect July 1.

Reynolds' signing comes as other Republicans across the country have said they want to eliminate teaching critical race theory and associated concepts from classrooms. Iowa is among more than a dozen states that have considered legislation this year aimed at eliminating similar concepts from classroom curriculum.

That same Register article notes that Iowa's law is based "nearly word for word" on an executive order issued by the Trump Administration (that is now repealed) that banned certain forms of diversity training for federal contractors. The Register's prior reporting on that order is here, the order itself is here.

There are a number of glaring practical problems with the law, which appear to be based, in part, on the bill's origin in a ban on training for contractors. For one, the law contains no penalty or disciplinary provisions, so it is unclear what would result from a violation of the law. The bill also includes prohibitions on certain types of training, but also includes restrictions for school curricula. While the restrictions on training are somewhat explicit, the restrictions on school districts and their curricula are woefully vague.

These defects, and others, are addressed in the remainder of this post, which walks through the law and tries to make sense of what is being restricted.

The Third Amendment in 2020

I recently posted a working version of a short article I'm writing to SSRN. It is meant to be the first in a yearly series of articles on the Third Amendment. This article surveys how the Third Amendment was cited and referenced in 2020--from cases and Third Amendment claims by litigants, to citations in academic legal writing. It also addresses popular coverage of the Third Amendment, which was surprisingly active in 2020.

The abstract is below:

This Article is the first in a series of yearly articles analyzing references, discussion, and applications of the Third Amendment in court, legal scholarship, and popular media and commentary. The Third Amendment’s prohibition on the quartering of soldiers in houses during peacetime, and its requirement that quartering during times of war be authorized by law is not typically discussed (or even known) by most in the legal field. This Article and its future iterations aim to address this neglect by surveying references to the Third Amendment and noting trends in its invocation and discussion across all aspects of the legal field.

As it turns out, the Third Amendment had a bit of a moment in 2020, drawing brief but widespread public attention in early June. A dispute between the mayor of Washington, DC and National Guard soldiers over whether they could be housed in a particular hotel led to a great deal of speculation over whether the Third Amendment would be invoked and, if so, whether it would apply to the dispute. While no litigation ended up taking place, this incident brought more attention than usual to this neglected component of the Bill of Rights. This Article describes the dispute, surveys the commentary, and evaluates whether a Third Amendment claim could have even been made in the first place.

Beyond this, the Article surveys citations and trends in arguments invoking the Third Amendment in 2020 case law and legal scholarship. The Third Amendment’s restrictions on the practice are often cited to demonstrate a constitutional right to privacy and to substantiate claims that the Constitution and its Bill of Rights were designed to protect civilians against overbearing military and governmental authority. Additionally, it tends to be a go-to citation for litigants who claim that their rights were violated and who want to throw every argument they have at the court. This Article provides a comprehensive breakdown of Third Amendment citations in the case law, and evaluates arguments invoking the Third Amendment in 2020 legal scholarship.

While the Third Amendment doesn’t get the respect or attention given to adjacent amendments, this Article serves as a first step toward a systematic understanding of the Third Amendment’s role in case law, legal scholarship, and broader society.

I've written about the Third Amendment here several times in the past--most recently last summer. In prior years, I took a critical approach towards scholarship on the Third Amendment and evaluated whether such scholarship was worth publishing. 

Now, nearly eight years later, I think there's a place for Third Amendment scholarship. Writers should take a subtle approach and see what lessons about broader issues and practices can be drawn from patterns of Third Amendment citation and use. Stretching the Third Amendment beyond its breaking point to apply it to situations is not the way to breathe life back into the amendment--even if the argument turns out to be novel.

The article is still a draft, so any comments or feedback are welcome.