Well, a district court in Utah has taken the first step towards giving polygamy (and, one must assume, polyamory) its Lawrence v. Texas. From there, we all know the script.
http://www.cnn.com/2013/12/14/justice/utah-polygamy-law/
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Well, a district court in Utah has taken the first step towards giving polygamy (and, one must assume, polyamory) its Lawrence v. Texas. From there, we all know the script.
http://www.cnn.com/2013/12/14/justice/utah-polygamy-law/
Thursday, December 12, 2013
A colleague here at Catholic University School of Law and MOJ alum, Lucia Silecchia, has written a beautiful piece for the National Review Online. One normally does not use the adjective "beautiful" to describe an op-ed on a legal issue. However, Prof. Silecchia's important reflections on the UN's "International Day of Persons With Disabilities" and its implications for other social issues is an important reminder and well worth the read.
Those pressing the claim that an exemption in the contraception mandate cases before the Supreme Court would violate the Establishment Clause face a few challenges--doctrinal, textual, and historical. The one that interests me in this post is that the test they favor is in considerable tension with the RFRA framework. Under the interpretation of the Establishment Clause being pressed, it seems to me that the least restrictive means test that represents the third prong of the strict scrutiny standard in RFRA and RLUIPA is constitutionally suspect.
Recall the theory: religious accommodations are unconstitutional if they shift "significant burdens" onto a "focused and identifiable class of third parties." For the moment, leave aside the "focused and identifiable" component. We know that under RFRA, the religious claimant must allege a substantial burden on religious exercise. If it does so, the burden shifts to the government to show that the substantial burden on religious exercise it has imposed is justified by a compelling governmental interest. But the government must also show that it is using the least restrictive means to achieve its interest. So, for example, the government cannot simply say that the contraception mandate is supported by its compelling interest in good health care, full stop. Its statement of its interest is invariably focused and refined by the need to demonstrate that it has used the narrowest means available--that means which least burdens the religious claimant--to achieve its interest. And the least restrictive means component of the RFRA test is, in fact, one of the points on which it has been argued that the government's case for the contraception mandate is weakest.
Suppose one accepts the claim that any "significant" burden resulting from cost shifting onto third parties triggers an Establishment Clause claim (again, for the moment, set to the side the question of what constitutes a "focused and identifiable" group). It seems to me that one would also be saying that the least restrictive means test is at least presumptively constitutionally suspect. The more narrowly tailored a means is so as to avoid burdens on religious objectors, the more probable it becomes that the means selected will burden third party interests. There may perhaps be rare occasions when an accommodation imposes no costs at all on third parties. But very often this will look like a sliding scale: as the imposition on the religiously burdened party decreases, the imposition on third parties increases. And by the time that one gets to the least restrictive means, the sliding scale is very much calibrated against the third party interests. By that point, it will have become highly probable--in some cases verging on certain--that the means chosen will impose "significant" burdens on third parties.
Take these cases.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Means v. USCCB is the ACLU's lawsuit against the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops that received so much media attention last week. I did not see much explicitly about the legal merits of that suit in the first wave of reporting. The most I saw was in NPR's story, which quoted Rick Garnett's assessment of the "novel case" as a "stretch." The New York Times did note that the plaintiff had taken the "unusual step" of suing the Bishops' Conference (rather than the doctor or medical facility whose alleged negligent treatment is at issue); the story also included a bioethics source not aligned with the ACLU. But seemingly more typical were stories from NBC News and the Detroit Free Press, which uncritically recited the claims of the lawsuit, quoted the ACLU, noted that the USCCB refused to comment, and then quoted an ethics or medical expert who assumed the truth of the allegations in the complaint.
The USCCB later issued a statement. And with additional time, other commentary has emerged in which the legal merits of the claims have received additional scrutiny. The American Prospect's story by Amelia Thompson-Deveaux, for example, quotes Illinois law professor Robin Fretwell Wilson and places the lawsuit in some legal context:
From a legal perspective, suing the USCCB rather than the doctor or the hospital is akin to blaming a professional organization for medical malpractice, says Robin Fretwell Wilson, a professor of law at the University of Illinois. Much of the ACLU’s case hinges on the lack of information imparted to Means, which is generally considered to be the doctor’s responsibility. “I don’t doubt that if [Means] sued the hospital or the doctor, this would be plain-vanilla medical malpractice,” she says. “But they’re not suing the doctor, the hospital, the local bishops, the board of trustees—you’re many layers removed from the person who really should owe this woman a remedy if everything in the complaint is taken as accurate.”
This assessment seems correct. As Eduardo Peñalver mentioned in the update to his post at dotCommonweal, the article "does a nice job of laying out some of the problems with the ACLU's legal theory."
The existence of these problems raises another set of questions about why the ACLU brought the lawsuit as they did in the first place. If one assumes for purposes of analysis that medical malpractice was committed, then why not sue for medical malpractice? Why repackage a potentially winning claim of medical malpractice into a seeminly losing claim of theological malpractice? These are questions that have been bothering me from the beginning. And they seem to have been bothering others as well.
One answer may be that the ACLU's goal in the case is not to obtain personal redress for their client but instead to place a dark cloud over Catholic healthcare more generally. That is not only plausible but probable. But it can't be a full explanation, because naming the doctors and the hospital and any other potentially responsible parties does not preclude naming the USCCB. And motivational attributions of this sort can be dangerous.
The real reason (or more likely, the main reason among others) may be simpler. The best explanation for the peculiar theory of the case may be that they were out of time. The complaint alleges two counts of negligence. Although the complaint is not as explicit on this point as it could be, these are state-law claims under Michigan law. There may be federal-law defenses based on statutory preemption or the First Amendment. But the basic claims are state-law claims, and these are governed by state-law statutes of limitations. The relevant statutes of limitations are at MCL 600.5805. There is a two-year statute of limitations for malpractice actions, MCL 600.5805(6), and a catch-all three-year statute of limitations for damages actions for personal injury not otherwise provided for, MCL 600.5805(10).
According to the complaint, the injuries at issue in Means v. USCCB occurred from December 1 to December 3, 2010. From the little research that I have done, then, it appears that a medical malpractice claim would have been barred by the statute of limitations as of December 3, 2012, whereas a generic personal injury claim would have remained open for another year. And if that is right, the legal explanation for the ACLU's recourse to the novel legal theory of theological malpractice in Means v. USCCB is that they filed too late to recover for medical malpractice. Concern about the statute of limitations even for this generic personal injury claim premised on theological malpractice probably also explains the timing of filing. The complaint was docketed as filed on November 29, 2013, which means that they just made it in if the three-year statute of limitations applies.
I am not a Michigan lawyer and there may well be additional legal reasons for not bringing a medical malpractice claim. But if you ask the right questions, the basic statute-of-limitations research for a post like this takes just minutes, does not require too much specialized knowledge, and is free. Given the lack of reporting on this issue, the journalists in the first wave of stories may not have been asking the right questions (for the legal angle of the story at least).
Just a gentle reminder that the 2014 Conference on Christian Legal Thought is only a few weeks away! The conference is sponsored by the Lumen Christi Institute at the University of Chicago and the Law Professors Christian Fellowship and occurs in conjunction with the annual AALS meeting, which is being held in Manhattan this year. This year's conference celebrates the life and thought of Professor Jean Bethke Elshtain and explores the theme of public engagement with law and religion. It's a topic that should be of broad interest in this period of great ferment in the field.
The schedule is below (and includes our own Tom Berg). Please register here!
Friday, January 3, 2014, 12:00 pm to 6:00 pm
The University Club
One West 54th Street, New York, NY 10019
Conference Topic: Public Engagement With Law and Religion: A Conference in Honor of Jean Bethke Elshtain
Noon: Registration, Luncheon, and Opening Remarks
1:15 pm – 2:45 pm: Session One. Public Engagement With Law and Religion: The Thought of Jean Bethke Elshtain
Chair: Zachary R. Calo (Valparaiso University School of Law)
* Thomas C. Berg (University of St. Thomas School of Law)
* Eric Gregory (Princeton University, Department of Religion)
* Charles Mathewes (University of Virginia, Department of Religious Studies)
2:45 pm – 3:00 pm: Coffee Break
3:00 pm – 4:30 pm. Session Two. Public Engagement With Law and Religion: Journalistic Perspectives
Chair: Marc O. DeGirolami (St. John's University School of Law)
* Matthew Boudway (Associate Editor, Commonweal)
* Susannah Meadows (Contributor, New York Times)
* Rusty R. Reno (Editor, First Things)
4:45 PM – 5:15 pm: Vespers
5:15 pm: Reception
Sunday, December 8, 2013
"Never before in history was one human being so universally acknowledged in his lifetime as the embodiment of magnanimity and reconciliation as Nelson Mandela was."
These are the opening words of Archbishop Desmond Tutu's remembrance of Nelson Mandela published earlier this week in the Washington Post. Notwithstanding all that has been written or said over the past few days about this larger than life figure, we still seem unable to capture in words the significance of this great man. It seems appropriate for a Catholic legal blog to discuss this student of the law and father of a nation. Yet, words fail to do him or his legacy justice. In my view, Archbishop Tutu's reflection comes closest to capturing the personal and public attributes and struggles so many admire. It is worth a read.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
I am glad to see that in the wake of the cert. grants for Hobby Lobby and Conestoga Wood, there has been a frothing up of interest in the issues presented by these cases, issues that we here have been discussing for quite some time. In this post, I want to address one such new claim.
Professors Nelson Tebbe and Micah Schwartzman (T&S) recently argued that an exemption from the contraception mandate under RFRA for employers like Hobby Lobby or Conestoga Wood would violate the Establishment Clause. They elaborate on their claim here and here. Many of the arguments are derived from this paper by Professor Fred Gedicks and Rebecca Van Tassell. The core of the argument is that granting an exemption from the mandate would privilege or favor religion inasmuch as it would shift the burden of purchasing contraception to third parties--i.e., the employees of the exempted corporations. The key to understanding the argument is their reliance on a Burger Court case, Estate of Thornton v. Caldor, which involved an exemption for employees from working on their Sabbath day. A Presbyterian who wished not to work on Sunday sued Caldor after the company dismissed him from a management position because he would not work Sunday. Because the law took absolutely no account of the secular interests of third parties (the employers), the law was found to violate the Establishment Clause. The "unyielding weighting in favor of Sabbath observers" resulted in a major burden on employers. T&S rely especially on this quote of Judge Learned Hand cited in Thornton: "The First Amendment … gives no one the right to insist that, in pursuit of their own interests, others must conform their conduct to his own religious necessities." T&S (as well as Gedicks and Van Tassell) note that the principle of Thornton was restated in dicta in a more recent case, Cutter v. Wilkinson, which involved the application of RLUIPA. Justice Ginsburg, in dicta, said that in applying RLUIPA, “courts must take adequate account of the burdens a requested accommodation may impose on nonbeneficiaries.”
I think the argument is interesting, but mistaken. In truth, I have never understood Thornton very well at all and find it to be a difficult case. So I'll start with a few basic points about exemptions and RFRA.
First, any exemption in this context will be directed toward benefiting some religious practice, and by being so directed, it will necessarily not benefit all others--i.e., "third parties." If all choices to protect a specific form of religious exercise violate the Establishment Clause, then all exemptions for religion are Establishment Clause violations. The only thing that would be left for legislators is a law like RFRA, which accommodates religious exercise generally. Could it really be the case that the only thing the Establishment Clause permits is all or nothing? I don't think so, and the Court has never said so. Professor Schwartzman, in other contexts, has questioned whether religion is a special category at all. If that argument were accepted and given constitutional force, then even laws like RFRA would be unconstitutional, because if the choice to protect religious exercise over non-religious ethical belief advances religion, then both specific and general accommodations are unconstitutional. The Court has not adopted that view. As Corporation of the Presiding Bishop of Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints v. Amos (1987) put it, "This Court has long recognized that the government may (and sometimes must) accommodate religious practices, and that it may do so without violating the Establishment Clause."
Second, all exemptions burden third parties in one way or another. An exemption from laws proscribing peyote smoking imposes social costs of various kinds on third parties. An exemption from compulsory school attendance laws does so as well. An exemption for prisoners from wearing prison uniforms will burden prison officials and guards, and ultimately, everyone who is invested in a uniform system of penal justice. Indeed, one could go much further: all rights have costs that fall on third parties (you pick the context--the speech clause, Miranda rights, etc.). Thornton does not say that any time there is any shifting of burdens, the Establishment Clause is violated. Chief Justice Burger's opinion was much, much narrower than that. It left open the possibility that a more carefully crafted Sabbath exemption law would be constitutional. That is more or less the upshot of Sherbert v. Verner (which was treated as good law by Thornton), where the Court held that a Seventh-day Adventist could not be denied unemployment compensation benefits because she refused to work on the Sabbath. In affirming that case, the Thornton Court is also affirming that it is perfectly constitutional for a state to exempt employees from Sabbath work on religious grounds, thereby imposing the costs of that exemption on third parties. All that Thornton is saying is that a law which imposes extremely severe burdens on secular interests through an "unyielding weighting of" religious interests over those other interests, and which takes no account of the secular interests at all, is constitutionally problematic. Consider an example. Under the Connecticut law at issue in Thornton, a school that is open only 5 days a week would have to provide Sabbath day exemptions to any teacher that asked for it. The burden on the school might be so severe as to impede its ability to function--compelling it even to close. The Thornton Court said that it had to "take pains not to compel people to act in the name of any religion." (emphasis mine). It's that kind of extreme burden on secular interests that rendered this law unconstitutional. Another obvious example might be an accommodation that interfered with a third party's religious freedom--compelling the third party to engage in religious activities. Yet while the Court has said that "[a]t some point, accommodation may devolve into 'an unlawful fostering of religion,'" Amos, only an extreme and absolute imposition on third party interests would justify that conclusion.
Third, both Thornton and a case like Texas Monthly v. Bullock seem to suggest that the burden imposed on secular interests must be state-imposed. Here the question is somewhat complicated inasmuch as the "burden" on employees is said to result from the combination of private claims and state power. Nevertheless, what these cases concerned is the alleviation of burdens on religious or secular beliefs imposed by the state.
Fourth, T&S wonder why nobody has made much of the Establishment Clause claim. But I think there is a good reason. RFRA incorporates certain limits to accommodation. That is, it would be a very rare RFRA (or RLUIPA) accommodation indeed which was constitutionally problematic under Thornton, because all RFRA (and RLUIPA) accommodations need to satisfy the substantial burden, compelling interest, least-restrictive-means threshold. The law at issue in Thornton, according to the Court required an accommodation "no matter what burden or inconvenience this imposes" on third parties. But the standard for RFRA accommodations is not, "you must grant the accommodation no matter what burden or inconvenience this imposes." Accommodations must pass the government compelling interest threshold. If they do, they seem very much not to be violations of the Establishment Clause rule laid out in Thornton. In fact, many of the arguments about third party harms that T&S make have already been briefed by mandate advocates as part of the RFRA calculus. So they haven't been ignored. They just haven't been analyzed under the Thornton Establishment Clause framework, because Congress already saw to that in the statutes.
But let's consider the Establishment Clause precedents on their own.
I have a short piece in the LA Times today about the Hobby Lobby / Conestoga Wood cases the Court has taken up. (As usual, the headline is not the essay-writer's fault.) Here's a bit:
The Religious Freedom Restoration Act reaffirmed an idea that is deeply rooted in America's history and traditions — namely, that politics and policy should respect and, whenever possible, make room for religious commitments and conscientious objections. True, religious liberty is not absolute, and, in a pluralistic society like ours, not all requests for exemptions and accommodations can, or should, be granted. Some religious liberty lawsuits will, and should, fail, but not simply because they involve what happens at work on Monday and not what happens in services on the Sabbath.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
The HHS cases being brought by for-profit businesses do not present the Court with philosophical or ontological questions, but rather statutory ones. Still, for many observers and activists, the temptation to re-work these questions as partisan/political ones is hard to resist, and Dahlia Lithwick's latest Slate essay is a perfect example.
Lithwick likes abortion rights, and doesn't like Citizens United, and so in the essay she works to connect Hobby Lobby's RFRA arguments with the reasoning in Citizens United and efforts in some states to provide greater legal protection to unborn children. She ends with this:
We can protect animals and unborn babies and corporations without also embodying them with a humanity they don’t possess. Turning everything and anything into a “person” ultimately also serves to turn persons into things.
The first sentence asserts that "unborn babies" do not "possess" "humanity," which is a strange assertion. There is no serious question about the "humanity" of unborn children; the debate is about the implications of their vulnerability, dependence, and developmental progress on their moral status. It also assumes that Citizens United or the Hobby Lobby RFRA challenge involve claims that "corporations" "possess" "humanity", which is not the claim. To say that X is a "person" for legal purposes is not to say that X is a human being. The second sentence, though, makes a point that has always made me very reluctant to embrace even the Christian cases for animal rights.
James Stoner's work on common law constitutionalism has been deeply influential on my own thinking about the interpretation of the religion clauses, as well as on more general questions of constitutional interpretation. My own approach in fact adopts something like Professor Stoner's common law constitutional method (though its motivation for adopting that method is different than Stoner's), distinguishing it from other common law constitutionalist methodologies (e.g., the approach of David Strauss). Here is an interesting post that Professor Stoner has just written on the disposition of the common law (in part it responds to the arguments of Professor John McGinnis). A longish bit:
To the authors of the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the Civil War Amendments, common law meant nothing like “judge-made law,” and the use of the modern supposition to untether constitutional law from the Constitution is unwarranted. Moreover, the original understanding of common law—as the unwritten customary law of England, registered in decisions of the courts, and carried over to the American colonies as an inheritance and adjusted to their circumstances—seems to me essential to the interpretation of the Constitution itself, which includes common-law language and takes for granted that the judicial power it established would largely operate by common-law forms: following precedent, recording judicial opinions, drawing the bench from the bar, employing trial by jury, and adhering to due process in myriad other ways . . . .
Originalism and textualism, for example, derive from maxims you can find in Blackstone’s account of how to interpret statutes, and I think they make sense not as free-standing theories of interpretation but in the context of all Blackstone’s adages, including, for example, that one begin by discerning whether the text declares the common law in writing or remedies some mischief, that one interpret criminal statutes strictly and statutes against frauds liberally, and the like. True, constitutions are not exactly statutes, only similar to them: Like statutes, they are put in writing; unlike statutes, they are made by a constituent authority and cannot be easily changed. Are the powers of government granted in constitutions to be interpreted strictly or liberally? What about rights that are reserved?
These questions fell to judges to decide, reasoning according to “the nature and the reason of the thing,” to borrow Hamilton’s words in The Federalist, and this was something common-law judges were trained to do, bound on the one hand by “strict rules and precedents” (Hamilton’s words again) and accustomed on the other to settling new cases through reasoning by analogy, as Edward Levi nicely explains in his Introduction to Legal Reasoning (Chicago, 1949). Understanding the common-law meaning of “judicial power” in the Constitution resolves what would otherwise be the paradox of judicial review, an unwritten power to enforce a written Constitution. And it makes perfect sense of constitutional passages like the Due Process Clause or the reference to “other rights” in the Ninth Amendment. These are not blank checks given to judges, but indication that there is a rich texture of established though unwritten law that they are charged to remember. Hamilton, again, indicates as much when he writes approvingly of the ability of judges “to mitigat[e] the severity and confin[e] the operation” of “unjust and partial laws.” . . . .
Leaving the Constitution to be interpreted in court by judges trained in common law meant it was in the hands of men who habitually looked to find the law applicable to the case before them, not who set out to replace it. When called to interpret the Constitution, the presumption in favor of the authority of the text and its original intent might be heightened, given its sovereign source, but precisely because the Constitution was meant to endure, its meaning had to be adapted to novel circumstances. One can’t avoid asking what comprises a constitutional search in an age of electronic communications, or what is “commerce with foreign nations, and among the states” when the manufacturing process from design through production is fully globalized and you can complete the purchase of almost any item from across the ocean at any time of day without leaving your home.
By focusing on the individual case, allowing the appeal to reason, settling the meaning of law to make property secure and the application of government coercion predictable, and including rules and maxims that leave individuals free to take initiative while holding them responsible for the consequences of their deeds, the common law was held by its advocates to be a great friend and promoter of human liberty. It had its critics, too, who complained that unwritten law was obscure, too much the preserve of the lawyers’ guild, and its favor for private property and individual liberty were inappropriate in a collectivist age. The abandonment of common-law rules and perhaps above all of the common-law spirit by many in the guild of lawyers over the course of the twentieth century no doubt contributed to the eclipse of common law—Professor McGinnis has valuable insights on this score—but probably more fundamental was the culture’s growing historicism: its skepticism toward any permanent standards of right and wrong, its consequent indifference toward tradition as a repository of wisdom, its expectation, not to say, encouragement of intractable partisan division given the supposition that questions of value cannot be rationally settled. Actually, common law really claimed to be common, to articulate a social consensus, more than it claimed to be unchanging; jury verdicts at common law have to be unanimous, and judges on the losing side of cases decisively settled typically feel constrained thereafter to accept the precedent and direct their argument to new issues, where they hope to limit a bad precedent’s future reach.