Mirror of Justice

A blog dedicated to the development of Catholic legal theory.
Affiliated with the Program on Church, State & Society at Notre Dame Law School.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Douthat on Religious Liberty and the Social Contributions of Religious Organizations

Ross Douthat in the NY Times observes that the Hobby Lobby owners' corporate conscience has led to some good things for workers, including  a high minimum full-time wage and Sundays off. (Wait: why does Hobby Lobby get to impose its Christian beliefs on its customers who might have a need to do their shopping on Sundays?) Of course, there's a quarrel over how consistently socially responsible Hobby Lobby is. But as Douthat says, "this isn’t just a point about the company’s particular virtues"; most of it is about religious organizations that serve those in need:

The entire conflict between religious liberty and cultural liberalism has created an interesting situation in our politics: The political left is expending a remarkable amount of energy trying to fine, vilify and bring to heel organizations — charities, hospitals, schools and mission-infused businesses — whose commitments they might under other circumstances extol.

Most of the commenters, unsurprisingly, are having none of it. But, as always ... it's the open-minded middle you have to reach. Not Times commenters.

The religious organizations that reach out beyond their church's members--and as a result are increasingly threatened with regulation conflicting with their beliefs--want "freedom to serve," in the words of the Catholic bishops' religious-freedom fortnight that just ended. Yes, there are tough issues about ensuring full participation of GLBT people, women, and others in society. But the resolution of those issues has to make room for full participation of faith-based service organizations as well.

An excerpt from my own work on "progressive arguments for religious organizational freedom," which fleshes out the same argument with supporting evidence (footnotes omitted):

[I]t is ironic and mistaken for progressives to deny or minimize religious-freedom protection for faith-based service organizations, as the original HHS exemption did. Works of justice, mercy, and service lie at the core of many religious faiths, but especially those that describe themselves as “progressive.” These works also rank among the features that progressives, religious or not, value most in religious organizations.

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Thursday, July 3, 2014

Hobby Lobby and the Apocalypse

I have a not-too-long spot on NPR's Morning Edition from today, partially making the case that Hobby Lobby will not bring about radical consequences.  On the other hand, Seth Rogen, an expert on apocalypses, thinks it will.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

More Comments on Irony and Tragedy

Marc and I are engaged in a fun (for us, at least) dialogue about the "tragic" versus "ironic" approaches to religious liberty questions and probably other legal/social disputes too.  I've described the ironic approach, in the tradition of Niebuhr's The Irony of American History, as calling for humility and self-examination even in our most strenuous arguments against opponents, because our virtue can easily transmute into vice, while self-examination may make us see commonalities with, or virtue in, our opponents.  Marc, in turn, has defended the tragic approach laid out in his fine book, on the ground that it takes more seriously the often-unbridgeable gulfs between beliefs and ways of life that contend with each other.

Marc also argues that the ironic approach reflects a certain pretense of "knowing," a "clever detachment" that stands in judgment over the parties embroiled in the conflict.  On this last point, a friend of mine who's a student and fan of Niebuhr's work sent me some thoughts that laid out ideas I had only barely expressed in my response:

[T]he ironic disposition cannot be separated from the movement of repentance in Niebuhr's work -- that is, repentance is that movement in which the self transcends itself, its past, the causes to which it has pledged allegiance and see itself and this past and these commitments under the judgement of God. This is not clever detachment. Viewing itself and its past and its commitments under the judgment of God, it is enabled to see how virtuous intentions have gone astray as well as to discern the commonalities of sin between itself and its enemy. This emphasis on repentance is consistent throughout the two volumes of [Niebuhr's major work, The] Nature and Destiny [of Man].

Now, I'm sure that some people would be suspicous that when the self "transcends itself, its past, [and] the causes to which it has pledged allegiance," it is not actually "see[ing] itself ... under the judgment of God" but is instead asserting a kind of radical autonomy. Catholic theologians accused Niebuhr of favoring the autonomous self over the moral guidance of the Christian community.  I'm definitely not an experton these things, but I tend to see that criticism of Niebuhr as overstated.  However, let's set that debate aside.  The relevant point, which my friend expresses better than I had, is that in calling for self-examination and humility, the "ironic" thinker applies--should apply--the same demand to himself.  The kind of "ironic" disposition I'm describing, then, does not claim detachment--or intellectual or moral superiority, except insofar as moments of self-examination and repentance can lead to morally better behavior.

Along the same lines: Marc used an observation from Tom Shaffer to describe the ironic thinker's detachment and perceived superior insight.  My friend restates that quote and takes the analogy in an interesting direction:

"Shaffer [Marc wrote] once described irony as 'what you might entertain if you saw two young lovers standing in a downpour and saying it’s a lovely day.' The observer smiles wryly at the scene, but he stands outside it and senses himself to hover above it. He appreciates the incapacity of the lovers to see what is obvious enough to him—he knows better than they do. It’s raining."

The self in the ironic disposition is not an observer, but one of the two young lovers, who perhaps at a later date smiles wryly at a moment of innocence that was in actuality not quite so innocent as imagined at the time. As he has since discovered that, as a young man, he was still too young to know the full meaning of loving another human being.  T
he movement of repentance does not negate responsibility for the self's obligations. In so far as he reflects upon this past moment of innocence, he does so in order to gain a greater purchase on the meaning of love and the full meaning of loving another human being. Not to negate that obligation or to be an observer who stands outside of it. 

I'm piling on with the words here (sorry Marc!), but I thought that my friend's comments were worth sharing as part of the discussion.

I wonder if "irony," in our current circumstances, bespeaks too much of Letterman or Kimmel snark.  Is there a better term to refer to the disposition I've tried to describe?

"RFRA Worked in Hobby Lobby; What's Next?"

I have a piece on the Berkley Center's religious-freedom blog discussing Hobby Lobby's implications and the prospects for RFRAs in the future:

Finally, what will happen to RFRA and parallel religious freedom laws in 15 states? Already one hears calls for amending[*] the federal statute—although a White House source has disclaimed any interest in doing so, and the gridlocked Congress seems unlikely to act. Opponents may try to amend other federal laws to exclude RFRA from applying to them and to amend or even repeal RFRAs in blue states. Those attempts should be resisted. In an increasingly divided society, RFRAs provides a means for protecting dissenters from serious burdens while still allowing government to accomplish its important goals. The Hobby Lobby decision is controversial, but no less so than the decision to mandate contraceptive coverage in the first place. RFRA actually guided the Court toward a decision that can protect the interests of both sides. Let’s remember that in the coming months.

Other very worthwhile reads on the blog from Stanley Carlson-Thies, Kyle Duncan, Tom Farr, Jennifer Marshall, Steve Smith, and Chip Lupu and Bob Tuttle.

++++

[* I fixed a typo here; the blog will be corrected when it refreshes tomorrow.]

 

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Hobby Lobby cont'd.

I have a piece at America discussing the decision and its implications. (Can't begin to catalog all the different reactions around the web that are worth reading.)

Among the upcoming challenges will be efforts to repeal, amend, or otherwise limit federal RFRA or its state counterparts. Stay tuned for all those developments.

Monday, June 30, 2014

Hobby Lobby Wins, Narrowly

The Court holds for Hobby Lobby, with Kennedy joining the majority but also writing a concurrence emphasizing the limits of the decision. The broad issues are resolved in the plaintiffs' favor (rightly in my view): for-profit closely-held corporations can be persons exercising religion, and the coverage mandate with accompaying fines and assessments imposes a substantial burden. The Court dodges the compelling-interest question and decides the case on "less restrictive means": the majority opinion and the Kennedy concurrence ultimately point to the insurer-pays accommodation for nonprofits as a less restrictive means of providing contraception coverage. I think the opinion and concurrence imply that some form of the nonprofit accommodation will be held a permissible solution (perhaps with tweaking about who the notification of opt-out must be sent to.)

Is it too crass to say that I predicted this as a likely result? (OK, guessed right.)

I also think this is a good result. RFRA should apply in the commercial sphere and should be taken seriously, but it also was not meant to--and should not--cut a swath of destruction through general commercial regulation.

Breyer and Kagan decline to join the part of Ginsburg's dissent that denies all religious-freedom rights to for-profit corporations.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Irony and Tragedy: Reply to Marc

Thanks, Marc, for the thought-provoking responses to my questions about irony and tragedy as approaches to understanding religious-liberty (and other) conflicts. Here are a few quick responses. A tragic diagnosis might be more accurate than an ironic one*/ on balance, or for some range of cases—say, the most difficult and vexing ones. That is, there’s surely some point where values and ways of life become incommensurable, no moral appeal to more general commonalities is sufficiently relevant or persuasive, and the only possibility is a pragmatic compromise that heads off worse harms. Both I and (as you mention) Niebuhr acknowledge that. And many of the pro-religious-exemptions arguments made by Berg-Esbeck-Garnett-Laycock-Wilson et al. are self-consciously pragmatic. The question, I think, is how quickly we should reach the conclusion that case-by-case compromise is all there is; or whether moral appeals to a sense of irony or humility can have any significant effect in meaningful cases of conflict. I think you’re saying “No they can’t,” and I have a few reactions.   

1. That seems to me too much of a blanket denial. As I see it (and I think as Niebuhr saw it), human beings have highly divergent beliefs and projects stemming from their different situations, experiences, and attitudes; but they also share certain commonalities at more general levels, and they have some capacity to recognize those commonalities. You say that “[t]he opposing sides [in religious-freedom disputes] are not making the same sorts of claims, because the claims they make about liberty or equality are grounded in very different views of the human good and of the moral life.” You say that they cannot accept in principle any liberty or equality claims of the other side, because “[t]he other side’s success inevitably detracts from the larger moral vision.”

     I doubt that this reflects our constitutional system—even in its reality, not just in its rhetoric—or that it could sustain that system. The same things could be said be said about even the most basic rights of religious freedom—or to pick a value that seems to be accepted across the constitutional spectrum today, the most basic rights of freedom of speech. The other’s side ability to congregate even in private, or to exercise the most minimal ability to express its views, also “inevitably detracts from the larger moral vision” of its opponents. Is it the situation that there is no commitment in principle to any shared meaning of freedom of speech, even at the core—that every protection of even the most basic ability to speak reflects no more than a case-by-case compromise? I concede that as the cases get “harder,” they become more difficult, and eventually impossible, to resolve through consensus principles; each side will point to a plausible general-consensus principle that supports its position, and the conflict cannot be fully resolved by either principle. But before we reach that point, it seems to me, there are many cases where a lot of people can say, “I disagree strongly with your underlying beliefs or views—I may even despise them—but I can see that you are asserting a legal claim that in principle falls in the same category as mine.”

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Saturday, June 28, 2014

McCullen v. Coakley and Pro-Life Speech: "An Outstretched Hand," Not a "Strained Voice"

The Supreme Court unaimously decided Thursday that Massachusetts violated the First Amendment by excluding speech from a 35-foot "buffer zone" around abortion clinic driveways and entrances.  McCullen v. Coakley is a victory for pro-life speech rights, although just how broad a victory is uncertain.  The majority opinion by Chief Justice Roberts ruled for the sidewalk-counselor plaintiffs but rejected their argument that the Massachusetts law in question discriminated against pro-life speech.  Before I discuss the implications of those holdings, let me highlight a different, significant way in which McCullen may advance the pro-life cause.

1. The counselors’ “outstretched hand.”  The state law was challenged by Eleanor McCullen and other pro-life counselors who sought to engage women entering abortion clinics in quiet, personal conversation and offer them information and help concerning financial support, adoption, and other alternatives to abortion.  Roberts’s opinion (joined by Breyer, Ginsburg, Kagan, and Sotomayor) held that the law "burden[s] substantially more speech than necessary" to accomplish the state's asserted goals of protecting public safety and preventing harassment or obstruction of women entering clinics.  It noted that the state had plenty of more narrowly tailored means to prevent these harms; it also rejected the state’s argument that the plaintiffs could exercise speech from outside the buffer zone.

On the last point, the majority noted that McCullen, like other sidewalk counselors, sought to engage women with "a caring demeanor, a calm tone of voice, and direct eye contact" but that the 35-foot zone "often reduced her to raising her voice at patients from outside the zone—a mode of communica­tion sharply at odds with the compassionate message she wishes to convey."  As the Court explained, "It is easier to ignore a strained voice or a waving hand than a direct greeting or an outstretched arm....  If all that the women can see and hear are vociferous opponents of abortion, then the buffer zones have effectively stifled petitioners’ message."

Apart from its legal effect, this recognition, it seems to me, could be helpful in the ongoing battle for hearts and minds concerning abortion.  The majority opinion—joined by four pro-abortion-rights justices—has explicitly acknowledged that sidewalk counselors seek to engage women compassionately and offer them real choices besides abortion.  In an amicus brief I filed for the Democrats for Life of America and Clergy for Better Choices (a group of largely African-American clergy), we supported the counselors in arguing that the buffer zone wrongly “forced [them] into … a stereotyped mold … of a shouting protester.”  The majority opinion agrees with this and has memorialized a more accurate description of pro-life counselors in the pages of the U.S. Reports.  To employ the phrases from the Court’s opinion: The pro-life movement frequently offers—and it must offer—“an outstretched hand” rather than “a strained voice.”

“An outstretched hand” include the compassionate provision of alternatives that Eleanor McCullen and other sidewalk counselors offer.  It means the kind of assistance offered by crisis pregnancy centers. "An outstreched hand" also means more of the social supports for women, children, and families that reduce the perceived need for abortion: better family-leave policies, child-care options, nutrition and health benefits, and assistance with adoption.  A package of these benefits, the Pregnancy Assistance Fund, pushed by the Democrats for Life, was included in the Affordable Care Act.  We need to fight our way through the ideological barriers, right and left, to such programs. 

2. Abortion-speech buffers after McCullenPro-lifers, although happy with the invalidation of the law, are likely disappointed that majority explicitly rejected the claim that Massachusetts had discriminated against speech with anti-abortion content, which would have put the law in the most suspect category under the Free Speech Clause.  The majority’s narrower ground—that the 35-foot zone covered far more speech than necessary—could leave in place other laws and injunctions that are less restrictive but that still specifically aim at speech outside abortion clinics.  By rejecting the broader attack on the neutrality of abortion-speech laws, the majority also reaffirmed one part of the reasoning of Hill v. Colorado, the Court’s 2000 decision that had upheld an 8-foot “floating” buffer zone around clinic patrons and staff as they moved near clinic property.  The Court had been asked to overrule Hill in McCullen, and there was some prospect it might do so.  The majority said nothing substantively about Hill, but it could be argued that the reaffirmation of one part of Hill’s rationale signals the Court will ultimately leave Hill undisturbed.

This possibility angered Justices Scalia, Thomas, and Kennedy enough that they refused to join any of the majority opinion even though they surely agreed with its holding that the 35-foot zone was too burdensome.  Scalia said in his concurrence that he “refuse[d] to take part in the assembling of an apparent but specious unanimity.”  Scalia had a point: since the majority held the law invalid based on one challenge, it was gratuitous to validate the law against the separate challenge that it discriminated against anti-abortion speech.  Moreover, the law is discriminatory in important ways: while setting up a very broad no-speech zone around clinic property, it allowed clinic employees to enter that space, where pretty clearly they could say favorable things about the clinic's work while pro-life critics were barred from entering.

On the other hand, parts of McCullen’s reasoning may still give grounds for challenging Hill.  As Kevin Russell has pointed out at the SCOTUS Blog, the alternative regulations that Roberts mentioned as available to the state all had to do with directly preventing intimidation, obstruction, and harassment: the majority never said that these concerns would justify a set buffer around individual patrons and staff, and it is at least possible to argue that they do not.  In any event, Roberts’s opinion signals—and he at least, among the five, will probably adhere to this—that any restriction will have to leave reasonable room for pro-life speakers to offer calm conversation (“the outstretched hand”), and not just distant shouting.

(Cross-posted, with minor differences, at The Whole Life Democrat)

Monday, June 23, 2014

Tragedy, Irony, and Religious Freedom

For several years Marc and I have had occasional discussions about whether the conflicts in religious liberty—and perhaps in many other areas of constitutional law or public policy—are best perceived through the lens of a “tragic vision.” Marc’s excellent book argues that judges should have a sense of tragedy in that they recognize that state-religion disputes involve incommensurable values all of some worth, meaning that decisions in many cases unavoidably require the sacrifice of some goods. Continuing the analogy to dramatic genres, he contrasts the tragic sense with the comic sense, in which there is one metric of good by which outcomes and resolutions can be judged (and in a comedy things come out harmoniously in the end). Marc reacts, rightly I think, against the tendency of many church-state analysis to make tough questions seem simple, which inevitably involves giving short shrift to valid interests and claims on the other side.

Let me suggest, as I have to Marc over the years, that the sense of irony is as important as, or maybe more important than, the sense of tragedy. I don’t mean “irony” in the current sense of smirk, snark, detachment, or hipness. I loved David Letterman from the beginning, but this is more serious business. I mean it in the sense developed by Reinhold Niebuhr in The Irony of American History (1952), in which he argued that America, although in the moral right overall in fighting against Communism, would fall (indeed, had already fallen) into some of the same vices at its foes, because it did not practice humility and self-examination. Niebuhr described the biblical vision in which human “pretensions [to goodness] are the source of the ironic contrasts of strength leading to weakness, of wisdom issuing in foolishness,” and “virtue turning into vice”:

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Jonathan Cohn on Work/Family Policies

Jonathan Cohn (almost the only serious/nuanced regular analyst at the New Republic these days) has a piece on the state of parental-leave laws, child-care support, and other work-family initiatives. Apparently the White House is hosting a meeting of academics, policy sorts, and business leaders on these issues next Monday.

Policies that allow parents to spend more time with young children and get better day care have clear, quantifiable costs. They also have clear, quantifiable benefits—not just in the form of better child and maternal health, but also in the form of better retention and possibly higher productivity.  As a matter of fact, there’s reason to think that America’s retrograde treatment of working families doesn’t help the economy at all. It might actually be hurting it....

The case for more generous parental leave laws begins with the cost—and the fact it's one that most of the rest of world happily bears. Among developed nations, the U.S. is now the only one that doesn’t guarantee some kind of paid employee leave available for new parents. In these countries, firms don’t typically bear the costs directly. Instead, governments set up funds that work the way unemployment and disability insurance do—workers and employers pay into the funds, through some kind of payroll contribution, and then take money out of it when they become parents.

Whatever is the right amount of government encouragement on this question, isn't it substantially more than our country is doing? Would love to hear Lisa Schiltz's latest thoughts (following on these), and the thoughts of others.