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Chapter 6 explores five outlier cases, called “The Unfortunate Five,” in which the US Supreme Court rejected landowners’ challenges to land use and environmental regulations despite the Court’s strong protection of private property rights against regulations generally. These five cases have one factor in common: the developers’ plans to build affordable housing. After exploring the potential that Supreme Court justices are motivated by explicit race and class biases, the chapter delves into the potential for implicit bias to explain why these cases deviate from the norm: the justices believe that they are protecting the private property interests of neighboring landowners against unwanted affordable housing developments. Strategies are proposed, based on a number of empirical studies, for convincing courts that affordable housing does not pose a threat to the property values of nearby landowners and that, therefore, many government policies reflect an unconstitutional, irrational prejudice against low-income people of color who need affordable housing and the developers who seek to build it.
Chapter 7 uses the life and career of US Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis to contemplate how a Progressive social-justice advocate might seek to redress entrenched housing segregation today. While acknowledging that Brandeis did not expressly speak out for racial equality in strong and unequivocal words in judicial opinions, the chapter looks for present guidance in the kind of lawyer Brandeis was, including his Progressive cause advocacy and pioneering of the Brandeis brief using extensive social science data to support government policies addressing social and economic inequalities. Observing that the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) successfully used the Brandeis brief technique to overturn racial segregation in the courts, the chapter highlights the importance of evidence from sociological study about the adverse impacts of housing segregation and the interconnectedness of race and poverty in housing conditions. Brandeis would be cautious about judicial imposition of reparations but would support legislative consideration of reparations to remedy past discrimination, tailored to balance benefits and costs, as well as state and local policy solutions as laboratories of democracy.
Contrary to oft-repeated views, litigation over the KCIR did not result in a ban on compulsory arbitration: in the 1920s, it was understood that the KCIR cases showed compulsion was permissible in most of the era’s major industries. However, US Supreme Court rulings on the KCIR were important: the extremity of the KCIR’s design, and the self-discipline of its labor opponents, created cases that posed important legal questions in uniquely clear, simple form. Drawing from archival material as well as opinions, this chapter shows that KCIR-related litigation was seized upon as a chance to clarify the scope and character of state economic regulation authorized by the public interest, and whether the Fourteenth Amendment categorically protected peaceful, orderly strikes. Justice Taft’s 1923 ‘Wolff Packing Company’ opinion, typologizing regulation in the public interest, was a clarifying landmark underpinning the Court’s sharp anti-regulatory turn. Justice Brandeis’ 1926 Dorchy decision, flatly denying an absolute right to strike under the Fourteenth Amendment, was a stinging and enduring reversal for labor.
Circumstances for labor after the pandemic resemble those of the early 1920s: fragmented, labor-unfriendly law has severely curbed the growth of unions under economic conditions and a climate of public opinion remarkably favorable to new organizing. Supreme Court rulings on contracts, employment, unions, and administrative power are restoring many features of law to the conditions before the New Deal. States are the most promising governmental level for protecting organizing and widening its reach in the immediate future; reformers of the 1920s provide a model for an engaged approach to scholarship that can shape state policy. Revisiting the state legal and policy history of the early twentieth century is urgently needed to prepare for foreseeable effects of further Supreme Court reaction, and to explore the era’s remarkable diversity of policy design, which may bring to light both ideas and dormant law useful in addressing labor’s contemporary challenges.
This article explores the connection between the ecclesiology and the beliefs on church-state relations of Baptists in the mid-twentieth-century United States. The author analyzes white Baptists’ reactions to the US Supreme Court rulings in Everson v. Board of Education (1947) and McCollum v. Board of Education (1948), both of which inaugurated the modern era of strict separationist Establishment Clause jurisprudence. The author also traces the development of Baptist beliefs on how the institutional church relates to individual salvation—beliefs that distinguished Baptists from both Catholics and most other Protestants—and statements from US Baptist leadership supporting church-state separation. The author demonstrates that Baptists’ beliefs on the internal, individualistic, and non-sacramental nature of salvation induced them to see any government-sponsored religious activity as likely corrupting of a person’s genuine choice of salvation. Furthermore, Baptists’ origins as a persecuted minority in Europe and the United States reinforced their idea that government-sponsored religion would lead to the suppression of true Christianity. For both reasons, then, state-sponsored religion was not God’s design. Beginning with Everson and McCollum and continuing with later cases through the 1960s, Baptist’s strict separationism became the binding interpretation of the First Amendment’s Establishment Clause through Justice Hugo Black, who authored both the Everson and McCollum majority opinions. Although no longer a Baptist when the rulings were issued, Black retained his Baptist influence on church-state issues and enshrined strict separationism into American case law for decades, leading to a Baptist triumph that many Baptists themselves would later regret and attempt to reverse.
This chapter traces the historical construction of whiteness in US law from the late eighteenth century, when the nation limited naturalized citizenship to “white” immigrants, through early twentieth-century Supreme Court cases in which individual Asian immigrants’ attempts to naturalize, citing the vagueness of racial prerequisite in federal law at the time, were denied on the basis of the court’s interpretations of the meaning of racial whiteness enshrined in the original 1790 statute. This genealogy of legal whiteness also examines how the boundaries and meaning of white identity evolve historically in relation to the racial logics of slavery in the law and post-Reconstruction segregationist legal orders. The chapter presents key critical paradigms for legal studies of whiteness and explores their generative potential for literary analysis through a reading of Charles W. Chesnutt’s 1901 novel The Marrow of Tradition in relation to the 1896 Supreme Court decision in Plessy v. Ferguson.
Laurence Steinberg describes the evolution of his career within the context of the rise of the study of adolescent development. At the time he began graduate school, in 1974, there was little research on normative adolescent development. Studies of this age group had focused mainly on problematic aspects of psychological functioning and were based largely on clinical populations. Now, however, research on normative adolescent development is central to the field of developmental psychology. Steinberg discusses his involvement in research on puberty and parent-adolescent relationships, the impact of after-school employment on teenagers’ behavior and well-being, nonschool influences on adolescent achievement and school engagement, age differences in judgment and decision-making, and in the application of the science of adolescent development science to the treatment of young people under the law. He also discusses how a series of unanticipated events had profound effects on the development of his career.
Chapter 8 examines how social hierarchies are reproduced through the operations of justice. It argues that justice institutions, whether national or supranational, are systematically characterised by restricted professional markets of repeat players (Galanter 1974) who act as gatekeepers of the relationship with justice users (individuals, corporations or states). The globalisation and financialisation of global value chains is reinforcing rather than weakening the post-Cold War competition between legal ordering claims. The contrasted development of justice institutions (from the US Supreme Court; asylum justice; interstate adjudication; investment arbitration to international criminal justice) demonstrates that it is fostering the global diffusion of the Wall Street model of the corporate law firm as an engine of legal globalisation and for the reproduction of legal and social hierarchies. This positions justice institutions as practical and symbolic boundary-making sites between capitalism’s so-called cores and its peripheries.
Fostering global constitutional discourse has long been anathema to the conservative legal movement within the United States. In Dobbs v Jackson Women’s Health Services, which overturned Roe v Wade’s right to an abortion, the court’s conservative justices relied on a globalized analysis. In this article, I identify three potential hypotheses to explain this deviation from conservative orthodoxy. Dobbs’ conservative globalism could be explained by attitudinal preferences, legitimation concerns or the influence of illiberal legal networks. I compare the proceedings of Dobbs against Carson v Makin and Kennedy v Bremerton School District, the other significant Constitutional cases from the court’s 2021–22 term, to deal with religious issues. These two other cases did not feature global citations, despite such citations being able to advance the Justices’ policy preferences or blunt legitimation concerns. Lending credence to the illiberal network hypothesis, Alito’s Dobbs opinion was reliant on a unique amicus briefing by a global network of anti-abortion scholars advocating on behalf of the natural family. Such network campaigns were absent from the proceedings of Carson and Kennedy.
The Hughes Court: From Progressivism to Pluralism, 1930 to 1941 describes the closing of one era in constitutional jurisprudence and the opening of another. This comprehensive study of the Supreme Court from 1930 to 1941 – when Charles Evans Hughes was Chief Justice – shows how nearly all justices, even the most conservative, accepted the broad premises of a Progressive theory of government and the Constitution. The Progressive view gradually increased its hold throughout the decade, but at its end, interest group pluralism began to influence the law. By 1941, constitutional and public law was discernibly different from what it had been in 1930, but there was no sharp or instantaneous Constitutional Revolution in 1937 despite claims to the contrary. This study supports its conclusions by examining the Court's work in constitutional law, administrative law, the law of justiciability, civil rights and civil liberties, and statutory interpretation.
The ongoing debate about the ills of American democracy features core disagreements about both diagnosis and cure. The title of this book alludes to what is now a multi-decade lament among scholars and pundits focused on US politics regarding the rise of “polarization.” On this account, our problem is that political elites and even ordinary citizens are so divided along partisan lines that they are unable to come together to solve important public problems. Given this diagnosis, the cure would involve institutional changes designed to empower centrists of both parties and to weaken their extremist flanks. Meanwhile, a different group of observers – including students of both democratic procedures in the United States and autocratic governments elsewhere – has diagnosed the problem as partisan degradation rather than polarization. On this account, the key defects facing American democracy are rooted not in a bipartisan refusal to compromise, but in one party’s abandonment of the rules of the game. In other words, these observers trace democratic erosion to the transformation of the Republican Party into an anti-system party.
Leading legal scholar John Witte, Jr. explores the role religion played in the development of rights in the Western legal tradition and traces the complex interplay between human rights and religious freedom norms in modern domestic and international law. He examines how US courts are moving towards greater religious freedom, while recent decisions of the pan-European courts in Strasbourg and Luxembourg have harmed new religious minorities and threatened old religious traditions in Europe. Witte argues that the robust promotion and protection of religious freedom is the best way to protect many other fundamental rights today, even though religious freedom and other fundamental rights sometimes clash and need judicious balancing. He also responds to various modern critics who see human rights as a betrayal of Christianity and religious freedom as a betrayal of human rights.
By many measures, the public knows little about politics. But just how little people seem to know depends on the questions that are put to them. In particular, knowledge levels seem higher when people are asked closed- rather than open-ended questions. In turn, differences between estimated knowledge levels are sometimes attributed to fundamental differences between these types of questions. Building on this previous research, the present study uses a pre-registered experiment conducted with a representative national sample to shed new light on the relationship between question form and knowledge measurement. The authors find that inferences about political knowledge depend less on fundamental differences between open- and closed-ended questions than on two little-appreciated aspects of survey design: the number and difficulty of the response options that accompany closed-ended questions. These aspects of survey design have large effects. Scholars who use the same questions with different response options may reach substantively different conclusions about the public's levels of knowledge.
This chapter uses examples from the United States to sketch these and other aspects of toweringness as a relational concept. It examines toweringness as a relation between one judge and his or her colleagues, using brief case studies from the New Deal era, which show judges as dependent upon the historical circumstances in which they find themselves, and a case study of the relation between William J Brennan and Earl Warren, showing an aspect of a court’s bureaucratic or institutional organization with a discussion of law clerks and opinion-drafting, and as subject to re-evaluation using Felix Frankfurter as an example.
Most American legal scholars have been slow to recognize the significance of John Rawls’s idea of public reason for law. This failure on their part is surprising, given the applicability of public reason to American constitutional theory, doctrine, and practice; it is also unfortunate constitutional theorists are not availing themselves of one of the most interesting ideas found in contemporary political philosophy literature. The main purpose of this contribution is to explain why American legal scholars must develop a conception of constitutional public reason (CPR) that suits the particulars of the American legal system. The other purpose is to address an objection to CPR, namely that it would be too shallow to provide sufficient normative orientation when judges must answer the most challenging constitutional questions. The objector alleges that even if judges were to endorse the same conception of CPR, it still might be indeterminate. As it turns out, CPR probably is no more prone to indeterminacy than any other theory of constitutional adjudication. Indeed, such reason may generate more determinacy when the pool of reasons that judges may draw from is considerably smaller.
The losing side in Goldwater v. Ginzburg appealed, then asked the Supreme Court to review the appeals court verdict. The decision to file writ of certiorari (a formal request for the Court to review the case) was not an empty exercise. In the wake of New York Times v. Sullivan (1964), no one knew exactly how the new doctrine of libel – “actual malice” – would be applied or what its limits might be. This chapter looks at how the Supreme Court viewed Ralph Ginzburg and Fact magazine and shows how at least some of the justices reasoned about hearing the case. I trace Ginburg’s hope that he could loosen libel law at the highest level and Goldwater’s hope that he could protect future public figures from libel even under the dramatically loosened standard represented by Sullivan. The Court’s decision was the occasion for some of Justice Hugo Black’s most eloquent words. As I show, throughout the process the media and Goldwater’s supporters took a keen interest in the outcome, just as Goldwater had hoped.
In recent years, a new creature has emerged on the institutional landscape: The Schmitelsen Court. This court is the end-product of a combination of the positions presented by Hans Kelsen and Carl Schmitt in their famous debate over the institutional identity of the guardian of the constitution during the Weimar years. The Schmitelsen guardian is a court thus fulfilling Kelsen’s vision of the constitutional court as the guardian of the constitution. Nevertheless, it possesses the mission, the means to achieve it, and the source of legitimacy that Schmitt envisioned for the president as the guardian of the constitution. In this Article, I focus on the Schmitelsen Court’s source of legitimacy that differs greatly from the traditional source of judicial legitimacy that Kelsen envisioned for the guardian. Whereas Kelsen viewed legal expertise as the guardian’s source of legitimacy, Schmitt viewed public support as filling this role. After analyzing these two positions, I explain why it is vital for the Schmitelsen Court to harness public support as its source of legitimacy. I proceed by examining how the Schmitelsen Court model manifests itself in three case studies. In the US, Alexander Hamilton—in The Federalist No. 78—raised the notion of the guardian of the constitution long before Schmitt and Kelsen. He designated the judiciary as the guardian and ascribed its source of legitimacy to expertise. After describing how in recent decades the US Supreme Court adopted the Schmitelsen understanding of judicial legitimacy, I turn to examine the Israeli Supreme Court and the European Court of Human Rights. The relevance of these latter two courts stems not only from their adoption of the Schmitelsen Court’s understanding of judicial legitimacy, but also from the strong influence of the Weimar lessons on their evolution into Schmitelsen guardians.
High-profile cases in the Supreme Court of the United States (‘SCOTUS’) on religion tend to attract a certain amount of academic comment in the United Kingdom but US judgments are cited only infrequently by the superior courts in the UK. In return, SCOTUS rarely cites foreign judgments at all. The reason, it is suggested, is that the effect given by the First Amendment to the US Constitution is to render US case law of less relevance to the UK than, for example, judgments from jurisdictions such as Canada and Australia.