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.

Tuesday, June 6, 2006

The Day After Roe

The June issue of The Atlantic has (in addition to a really funny send-up of management-consulting-speak) a long piece by Jeffrey Rosen called, "The Day After Roe."  (Unfortunately, the full essay is available only to subscribers.)  In a nutshell, Rosen works through the various scenarios and developments -- political and legal -- that might follow a reversal by the Court of Roe v. Wade.  The working premise for the piece is that Justice Stevens has retired, President Bush has nominated a "fire-breathing social conservative", the Democrats have filibustered, the Republicans have gone "nuclear," and so the Court that hears arguments in the partial-birth-abortion case has five possibly anti-Roe members.  "Because of the intricacies of American federalism," Rosen writes, "and the polarization of American politics exacerbated by Roe itself, the moderate national consensus about abortion might not be reflected in law for years to come, andthe political landscape could be transformed beyond recognition."

Near the end of the piece, Rosen considers the possibility that a post-transformation Democratic Congress passes (and President Clinton signs) a federal law guaranteeing early-term abortions -- notwithstanding the enactment of now-constitutional, more restrictive laws in some states -- but "conservative activists" on the Court strike down the federal law on New Federalism / enumerated-powers grounds.  "This," Rosen notes, "would be a brazen act of judicial activism - no less anti-democratic than Roe itself." 

What does Rosen mean here, exactly?  (Or, what do we mean when we characterize -- as most of us have, at one time or another -- a judicial decision as "anti-democratic"?)  Put aside, for now, the longrunning debate whether "judicial activism" is a particularly helpful term.  What does it mean to say that Roe is "anti-democratic," and in what sense would it be "anti-democratic" for the Court to invalidate a federal law that itself purported to displace states' more restrictive abortion laws? 

We could say, I guess, that both Roe and the hypothesized later case are "anti-democratic" in the sense that both involve the exercise of judicial review and the invalidation by unelected judges of a measure enacted through the legislative process by politically accountable representatives.  We might think that a decision is either anti-democratic, or it's not -- and both of these are.  But, if this is all that "anti-democratic" means, then it's hard to see why the term should be used or regarded as an epithet.

Or, maybe it's better to say that Roe is a lot more anti-democratic because, after all, it invalidated dozens of state laws, while the hypothesized later case only invalidates one.  Or, maybe the later case is rendered less anti-democratic by the fact that the law it invalidates has the purpose and (anti-democratic?) effect of displacing the now-constitutionally-permissible, more restrictive laws enacted in some states? 

I'm inclined to think that Roe was "anti-democratic" not so much because it invalidated the particular products (i.e., statutes) of democratic processes, but because it removed from the sphere of politics an issue about which the Constitution permits reasonable people of good will to disagree, argue, and compromise.  This is not true, it seems to me, of the cases that Rosen would probably identify as the results of "conservative judicial activism", like Lopez or Boerne -- decisions that did not purport to answer definitively disputed normative or policy questions, but only to identify the political communities that are authorized to answer them (or not).

Subsidiarity and Moral Absolutes

Last week Patrick offered a subsidiarity-based defense of the Federal Marriage Amendment, asserting that:

the primary place of subsidiarity in the marriage amendment argument, as I understand it, concerns the government's responsibility to assist the body politic in giving effect to the particular function/authority that precedes the state.  I therefore agree with those who insist that subsidiarity does not necessarily assign this task to the lowest possible level, e.g., states, governments, or individuals.  Marriage needs help, and those charged with the common good are to provide it, consistent with their own proper functions.

I agree that subsidiarity cannot just stand for devolution across the board, or else we'll soon be one step removed from the state of nature, empowering any local actor so inclined to pursue their own moral project, regardless of its corrosive effect on the common good.  But I'm left feeling a bit perplexed if the alternative approach is to limit subsidiarity based on the (highly contested) contours of the natural law.  It sounds like we're telling society, "we implore you to honor subsidiarity's localizing impetus, except when the issue is one that we don't want to localize."  If subsidiarity's implementation is going to turn on a contest of overarching principles, it's not going to go very far.  Supporters of the Federal Marriage Amendment can insist that marriage between a man and woman is so important that local exceptions are forbidden; Massachusetts can insist that having a pool of potential adoptive parents based only on relevant parenting criteria (as determined by the state) is so important that local exceptions are forbidden; California can insist that having access to employer-provided birth control is so important that local exceptions are forbidden, etc.  Once we start arguing over which principles are so important that the higher body is justified in supporting the principle's vitality in the society, subsidiarity recedes from the conversation.  To a certain extent, this is unavoidable (e.g., we're not talking about subsidiarity in our approach to regulating murder), but we need to be very careful in letting the non-negotiable moral principle overwhelm the inclination toward local empowerment.

I'm not suggesting that we can do away with a debate about principles; I'm just saying that if we carve out an exception to local empowerment on contested moral issues based on our own contested understanding of the natural law, we shouldn't be surprised if the society views our invocation of subsidiarity as self-serving.

Rob

Monday, June 5, 2006

Punishing Christians

I was going through some things today (avoidance behavior), and came across a paper by Stanley Hauerwas, "Punishing Christians," which he had presented at Notre Dame a few years ago.  It is, among other things, a fascinating engagement with John Paul II, Oliver O'Donovan, and Cardinal Dulles on punishment theory and capital punishment.  The paper's conclusion, I thought, is particularly interesting:  "What Christians have to offer our non-Christian brothers and sisters is not a better theory [of punishment], but a practice of punishment that can be imitated. . . .  Christians . . . fail themselves and their non-Christian neighbors when they act as if punishment is a problem 'out there.'  What Christians must first give to the world is to be a community that can punish.  Only then will the world have an example of what it might mean to be a community that punishes in a manner appropriate for a people who believe that we have been freed by the cross of Christ from the terror of death."

Save the date

We at Villanova are looking foward to hosting the first annual Scarpa Conference in Catholic Legal Studies on Friday, September 15, 2006.  The topic wil be From John Paul II to Benedict XVI: Continuing the New Evangelization of Law, Politics, and Culture.   His Eminence Avery Cardinal Dulles, S.J., will deliver the keynote address.  Also presenting papers will be MOJers Rick Garnett (Lilly Endownment Associate Professor, Notre Dame Law School), Amy Uelmen (Director, Institute on Religion, Law and Lawyer's Work, Fordham University School of Law), and Patrick Brennan (John F. Scarpa Chair in Catholic Legal Studies, Villanova University School of Law). 

The topic of the conference was chosen before Pope Benedict published Deus caritas est. The enclyclical now provides an excellent focal point for a study of the developing social doctrine of Pope Benedict.  Topics will include love, subsidiarity, libertas Ecclesiae, evangelization, and justice.

If I can answer any questions about this Conference, please feel free to email me.  We hope to see lots of old friends and new faces at Villanova this September.  Those who cannot attend the conference will be pleased to know that all of the papers will be published in the Villanova Law Review.  Those hoping to attend should plan early; we are informed that Parents' Weekend at Villanova will result in high demand for loding on the nights of Sept. 14 and 15. The Conference will be held in Villanova's Connelly Center, which is on the main campus.

By the way, Justice Antonin Scalia has graciously accepted our invitation to deliver the keynote at the Second Annual Scarpa Conference.  We should be able to announce the date and topic in September of this year.  Please stay tuned. 

 

Martin Marty Thanks Tom Berg

Sightings  6/5/06

Pro-Life Progressivism
-- Martin E. Marty

"Pro-Life Progressivism" must sound as oxymoronic to some citizens as "Pro-Choice Conservatism" must sound to others.  That's the fix we're in, and have been, since 1973, after Roe v. Wade, when defining groups often found it feasible to organize people, raise funds, defame "the other," and stop thinking.  When I follow two autos bearing competitive bumper stickers -- "Abortion Is Murder" vs. "A Woman's Body Is Her Own To Do With What She Wants" -- and inhale the carbon monoxide their exhaust spews my way, one thing I know for sure is this: Neither is an invitation to dialogue.  Both are conclusions, not premises or hypotheses.  The one rules out thinking about "rights" and the other refuses to consider that there are "life" issues in abortion.  Poised between the two camps of militants or in the trail of their exhaust pipes, most other non-polarized citizens gasp.  They do know and show that "both sides" have something to say that all should consider.  Few find ways to try to reach the other and help the "in-betweens."

An exception was our neighbor and friend Cardinal Joseph Bernardin, who was setting forth a "Seamless Garment" or "Consistent Life Ethic" -- for which he probably lost admirers from one camp and was certainly blasted by sharp-shooters from the other.  Still, many did entertain second thoughts when they thought at all about what he was proposing.
Today all I can do is point to another effort, a scholarly attempt to get a hearing for "Pro-Life Progressivism."  Responsible is Tom Berg, a.k.a. Professor Thomas C. Berg, "Faculty and Symposium Advisor" and trusted friend ever since he used to stop by during his University of Chicago Law School days and prompt me to think.  Now he does it in print in his Foreword to the Spring 2005 University of St. Thomas Law Journal from Minneapolis (see below for details).

The symposium asks, "Can the Seamless Garment Be Sewn?  The Future of Pro-Life Progressivism."  Among the contributors are people one takes seriously (or, at least, I take seriously), such as Jim Wallis, Sidney Callahan, Ted Jelen, and John Witte.  Actually, Witte's article is not quite on subject; it's in Part Two of the same issue, but it poses "The Challenges of Christian Jurisprudence," which is related to the symposium.

It's frustrating, I know, to be told that there's something here which more of us ought to read, and then not to be given easy access.  Your friendly neighborhood law school library will be of help.  The single issue can come to you for $20.00.  Berg reminds readers that the Catholic moral-political tradition in America has led many to "oppose the taking of human life not only in cases of abortion but also in cases of war -- or at least war not justified as a strict necessity for defending others' lives."  Oh-oh!  He quotes Pope John Paul II, so often invoked on anti-abortion causes, but pushed past when he is cited as a foe of capital punishment.  Berg, not himself Catholic, likes the Catholic progressive tradition, sometimes noticed by Catholic politicians, on "anti-poverty programs, environmental protection measures, and worker's rights," as human-dignity and human-life issues.  He reminds those who welcome such witness that they have some listening to do on the other part of the Bernardin-John Paul II program.

This column will settle nothing.  I just wanted to tell you what I "sighted" this week.

Resources:
The Law Journal may be contacted at: University of St. Thomas Law Journal, 1000 LaSalle Ave., MSL 225, Minneapolis, MN  55403; or by email at: [email protected].  For further details, visit: http://www.stthomas.edu/lawschool/rw/rw_re.cfm.


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Sightings comes from the Martin Marty Center at the University of Chicago Divinity School.

Amy Barrett: "A Different Kind of Lawyer"

My friend and colleague, Amy Barrett, gave a wonderful talk at this year's graduation ceremony at Notre Dame Law School on what it might mean to be "a different kind of lawyer", i.e., the kind that Notre Dame claims to aspire to produce.  The speech is not long, and I think many MOJ readers would really enjoy it.  Here's the heart of it:

So what then, does it mean to be a different kind of lawyer? The implications of our
Catholic mission for your legal education are many, and don’t worry - - I’m not going to
explore them all in this short speech. I’m just going to identify one way in which I hope
that you, as graduates of Notre Dame, will fulfill the promise of being a different kind of
lawyer. And that is this: that you will always keep in mind that your legal career is but a
means to an end, and as Fr. Jenkins told you this morning, that end is building the
kingdom of God. You know the same law, are charged with maintaining the same ethical
standards, and will be entering the same kinds of legal jobs as your peers across the
country. But if you can keep in mind that your fundamental purpose in life is not to be a
lawyer, but to know, love, and serve God, you truly will be a different kind of lawyer.

Sunday, June 4, 2006

"Indoctrination"

Marty Lederman has a detailed, helpful post over at Balkinization, discussing the recent decision by a federal district judge in Iowa, "declaring unconstitutional the State of Iowa's establishment of a rehabilitation program operated in the state prison system by the InnerChange Freedom Initiative, a substidiary of Chuck Colson's Prison Fellowship Ministries."  (Marty's words).   Marty writes, quoting the court:

In the court's words, "state funds were used intentionally to indoctrinate Iowa inmates [within the state prison], by a non-profit religious service provider preferred by the state in its selection process, into a form of the Christian religion in the belief that the indoctrination, combined with the communal rehabilitation model, would be of some help in their rehabilitation." The funded program is faith-intensive, and fundamentally religious in nature: "The overtly religious atmosphere of the InnerChange program is not simply an overlay or a secondary effect of the program—it is the program. There are no separate educational and religious functions in the InnerChange program as there were in Agostini . . . . Here, every activity—worship services, revivals, community meetings, daily devotionals—is organized and developed by the InnerChange program and is designed to transform an individual spiritually. Even the otherwise traditional rehabilitation classes themselves . . . have been turned into classes intended to indoctrinate inmates into the Christian faith."

Now, both the trial-court judge, and Marty in his post, make extensive use of the term "indoctrination."  I wonder, what exactly is this word intended to communicate?  What does it communicate, about the motives and goals of the teachers participating in the InnerChange program, about the nature of religious belief and transformation,  about courts' understanding of what religion is, and about the disposition and goals of the participating inmates? 

My own view is that the Court in the late 1960s and early 1970s made use of "indoctrination" (and "sectarian") in an unfortunate way, that owed too much to Paul Blanshard- and Hugo Black-style anti-Catholicism (i.e., "our public schools educate children, and promote unity; the Catholic schools indoctrinate, and are divisive", etc., etc.).  To be clear, it is obvious that neither Marty nor the trial judge in Iowa intend this meaning.  Still, the question remains:  What is "indoctrination" and what is (or should be) the term's constitutional significance? 

What markers distinguish "indoctrination" from "conveying claims about the world that, the speaker hopes, will appeal to the hearer's reason and, perhaps, transform his or her thinking about the world"?  Is there a distinction between "teaching about religion" and "indoctrination"?  Coming at the matter in another way, in what sense is what was happening in the InnerChange program -- which aims, in a comprehensive way, to "transform an individual spiritually" -- "indoctrination"?  Notice that the court distinguishes explicitly between "educational" and "religious" functions, stating that "every activity" of InnerChange is, again, "designed to transform an individual spiritually."  I would have thought, though, that the line between "education" and "transform[ation]" was not so clear.

Now, none of this is to dispute the court's or Marty's conclusion that, given the relevant doctrines, texts, and precedents, the trial judge was correct in invalidating the InnerChange program.  I can think of many reasons why reasonable people of good will, including those who might well believe that religious transformation would be good for inmates and for "society", might nonetheless conclude that this program goes too far.  I'm not sure, though, how much work the word "indoctrination" should do in guiding us to this conclusion.

CST and CLT

I would like to thank Rick for his informative posting, and I am sorry for the trouble that he had waiting on the tarmac for six hours. It seems that airplanes and busy runways can offer opportunities for mini-retreats. I’ll have to keep this in mind.

I was unaware of the fact that there was a three day conference and discussion on these important topics. Since I was not present, I hope I am not intruding into Rick’s invitation by responding to his request that he would like to hear the thoughts of those who were present. It may also be that my few thoughts were raised by some who did attend.

If there is an impression that “it all begins with Rerum Novarum” (CST and, therefore, CLT), I think that would be a flawed assumption. There is no question that Pope Leo XIII’s papacy and his great encyclical are important for any serious Catholic investigation, but there is a preceding foundation that needs to be taken into account.

The foundation begins with the need for solid catechesis. A lot of us involved with the Church and its educational efforts, particularly at the tertiary and post-tertiary level have come to realize the impoverishment of understanding the faith. The higher one goes in the formal educational system, the easier it becomes to assume that students and faculty have learned and taught the first principles of the faith. This assumption, as it turns out, is often wrong. Essential tools for remedying this would be texts like the Catechism of the Catholic Church (especially its outline and using its footnotes as invitations to further, deeper study), a good “sources” book such as Denzinger, and another excellent and readable text called “An Introduction to Christianity” written by a young German theologian back in 1968. Having a better and solid understanding of Christianity and Catholicism, we can better understand the tasks that CST and CLT have regarding the salvation of humanity. While the corporal works of mercy are important to the Church, that is not why God gave us this great gift, and that is not why God became revealed to us on the cross.

With the foundation in mind, the next step is to begin to examine the role of the Church in the temporal order, for that is where CST and CLT come into play. The issues that fascinate us today concerning bioethics, family life, the use of force (“just war theory”), humanitarian intervention, the role of Catholics in public/political life, the role of the laity, human rights, etc. did not begin in the twentieth century. The history of the Church and human history show us otherwise. I think that is why we need to be familiar with the existence and then the content of a rich deposit of literature that captures the work of the Church and its members since through the progress of time.

For example, there are works of Augustine and Aquinas; the texts mentioned in “sources” books; the bibliographic materials put together by Prof. Sylvester Hemleben and published by the University of Chicago Press in the 1940s; the Herculean bibliographic efforts of Sister Claudia Carlen, IHM beginning in the 1930s and extending into the 1970s; the commendable commentaries and translation activities of Mr. John Eppstein in the 1930s; and the activities of James Brown Scott and Oxford University Press (now available through Hein On-Line) of preserving the extraordinary work of the Schoolmen Francis Suárez and Francis de Vitoria who wrote about the use of force and discussed human rights in the sixteenth-early seventeenth centuries. Social justice is a phrase often heard in CST and CLT schools, but its origins are less well known. The work of the nineteenth century Luigi Taparelli d’Azeglio is crucial to any endeavor of seriously studying “social justice.” Taparelli’s works have never been translated into English; however, Prof. Thomas Behr has given some important conferences and published some good articles on the thought of Taparelli. I am beginning to work on a project of translating Taparelli’s Saggio Teoretico di Diritto Naturale—anyone interested in helping?

With some command of these resources, the teacher, the student, and anyone else interested in CST and CLT can begin to chart the paths of numerous, potentially rewarding and enlightening investigations which bring us to the rich discussions of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Even an introduction to these materials will give the serious and humble investigator an appreciation of how the Church and its members have tackled the meaning of “the rule of law” over time. But this can only be a beginning as I have learned through my experience of directing a seminar this past semester entitled “The Rule of Law and the Thought of John Paul II.” My students and I had barely made a scratch in the surface of the contributions to some of the issues of concern to CST/CLT study proffered by principally one pope of recent times.

Let me conclude these ruminations by thanking Rick for the questions he has posed. I think they will open many doors to fruitful study, discussion, and learning. Again, I hope that I have not intruded into a discussion properly belonging to those who attended the Fordham gathering.     RJA sj

Saturday, June 3, 2006

Brainstorming about CST about Fordham

Amy Uelmen and Fordham's law school graciously hosted a "brainstorming" on Catholic Social Thought and the Law this past week.  Although I was only able to participate during one of the three days, it was great to see and talk with so many MOJ folks.  Thanks so much to Mike Scaperlanda, Alison Sulentic, Amy, and Lisa Schiltz for putting the event together.

The agenda for the sessions included (1) a crash course, provided by Fr. Ken Himes, on the basics and background of the Catholic Social Thought tradition; (2) a discussion about how to structure and teach "CST and the Law" classes; and (3) planning for a "CST and the Law" summer institute (or, "boot camp"), the point of which would be to provide law profs who are interested in, but perhaps new to the subject, with (1) and (2).

During the six hours I sat on the runway at JFK, I had plenty of time to mull over a few thoughts about the sessions, and the broader "CST and the Law" enterprise.  For starters, it seems to me that it is, and will remain, a challenge to deploy and teach "CST and the Law" in a way that avoids simply baptizing or anathamatizing certain policy outcomes or programs, and that does not excerpt, or cut-and-paste, from the tradition in a way that might line up comfortably with a particular scholar's views but might not be true to the tradition's premises, taken as a whole. 

Now, I've never taught a CST and Law course (though I will next year).  Still, it seems misguided to me to think that one could excise or skate over the marriage-and-family teachings and Evangelium vitae -- focusing instead on documents relating to, say, the economic order or political participation -- and not lose something.  We cannot really understand "subsidiarity" without thinking about the Church's understanding of marriage and family; we cannot really understand "human dignity" if we separate human dignity's implications in the realm of labor and welfare policy from its implications with respect to abortion and euthanasia; and so on.

It strikes me that another real challenge (for me, anyway) in teaching this material, in a way that is faithful and rigorous, is to carefully distinguish applications of principles, about which reasonable and faithful people can disagree, from the principles themselves and the premises on which they are grounded.  At the same time, I imagine all of us are sometimes tempted to deploy the "prudential judgment" in a way that protects policy outcomes we prefer, but that might still be in tension with the relevant writings and teachings.

Another challenge, I think, has to do with the nature of law, the vocation of lawyers, and the meaning of "the rule of law."  I can imagine wrestling, in a CST and the Law class, with the temptation to evaluate the big constitutional cases -- Roe v. Wade, for example, or the death-penalty cases, or cases about sovereign immunity and the Americans with Disabilities Act -- entirely in terms of the consonance between the policies promoted by the cases' outcomes and the principles of CST.  As I see it, though (and I know we've talked about this before), the rule of law is constitutive of the common good, and so a commitment to the rule of law is as thoroughly Catholic a commitment as one to subsidiarity and solidarity.

Finally, I came away thinking that a "CST and the Law" class should probably be constructed and taught more as a "Law and the Catholic Tradition" class.  I'm inclined to think that we cannot just start with Rerum novarum; the natural law tradition, the Church's sacramental vision and understanding of the person as both fallen and imago Dei, the Church's long experience of wrestling with the state and its claims, etc., all need to be a part of the course.

Thanks again to those who arranged this event.  I'd love to hear the thoughts of others who were there . . .

Friday, June 2, 2006

Subsidiarity and the Marriage Protection Amendment: Another View

The following piece by Jonathan Rauch, who writes for the Atlantic Monthly and is a columnist for the National Journal, is relevant to some recent MOJ postings.  I thought that MOJ-readers would be interested.

National Journal
May 31, 2006

Gay Marriage Amendment: Case Closed

Senate Republicans trade federalism for demogoguery

Jonathan Rauch                   

All right, so the Republicans have had better years. But don't forget their secret weapon. Not an ABM, MIRV, or MX. An MPA: the Marriage Protection Amendment, precision-targeted on same-sex marriage and, through it, the Republican base.

The MPA would amend the U.S. Constitution to forbid gay couples to marry. Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist, R-Tenn., says he will bring the amendment up during the week of June 5. It has zero chance of passing by the required 67-vote majority, as Frist knows. In 2004, the amendment garnered only 48 Senate votes, and the Human Rights Campaign, a gay-rights group, figures it will get only about 52 votes this year.

So why bother? Consider Virginia, where in 2004 the Republican-controlled Legislature hit on the promising formula of passing both a whopping tax increase and a gratuitously vindictive anti-gay-marriage law. (The so-called Marriage Affirmation Act outlawed not only gay marriage and civil unions, but also private contracts between same-sex individuals seeking to replicate marital arrangements.) Lyndon Johnson once said, "Hell, give [a man] somebody to look down on, and he'll empty his pockets for you." The Virginia formula was in that vein: Knock the gays hard enough, and maybe conservatives wouldn't notice the tax hike.

In Virginia, the moral-values credit card seemed to have maxed out in 2005; Democrats held the governorship. Nationally, many conservative voters seem to have noticed that the same Republican politicians who are trotting out the marriage amendment have also spent up a storm, created the biggest new entitlement program since LBJ's Great Society, riddled the budget with earmarks, and approved unprecedented restraints on political activity.

Whatever its political merits, the MPA remains as unwise substantively as when it first came up in 2004. Since then, moreover, the case for its necessity has disintegrated.

The question posed by the marriage amendment is not just whether gay marriage is a good idea, but who should decide—the states or the federal government? From its debut in 2001, the marriage amendment was misleadingly advertised as a restriction on activist courts. In truth, the amendment would strip the power to adopt same-sex marriage not only from judges but from all 50 states' legislators, governors, and electorates.

Defining and regulating marriage has been within states' purview since colonial times. (Utah was required to ban polygamy while it was still a federal territory. On the few occasions when the U.S. Supreme Court has intervened, it has curtailed states' powers to restrict marriage rights, not imposed a definition.)

Why should the federal government usurp the states' authority over marriage? Amendment supporters have insisted that gay marriage anywhere would soon spread everywhere. How, they demanded, could one state have a separate definition of marriage without creating chaos? Unless the federal government stepped in, they said, one or two states would impose same-sex marriage on all the rest.

Actually, states have defined marriage differently for most of the country's history. Until the 1960s, mixed-race marriages were recognized in some states but not others. That each state is entitled to regulate marriage in accord with its public policy views is established legal precedent; otherwise Maryland, say, could start marrying 10-year-olds and every other state would be obliged to go along—an absurdity. Moreover, in 1996 Congress passed the Defense of Marriage Act, which explicitly relieved the states of any obligation to recognize other states' same-sex marriages.

Federal-amendment proponents have claimed that the Supreme Court might strike down DOMA. That argument, already weak on the law (DOMA is almost certainly constitutional), is even weaker now that President Bush's two Supreme Court appointments, Chief Justice John Roberts and Associate Justice Samuel Alito, have solidified the Court's conservative majority. Would-be amenders are now reduced to claiming that the Constitution should be revised to pre-empt a hypothetical ruling by a future Supreme Court. On this prophylactic theory of constitutional jurisprudence, it is hard to imagine what amendment might not be in order.

So far, DOMA has stood up. The country's most liberal federal appeals court, the California-based 9th Circuit, saw off a challenge to DOMA just this month. Meanwhile, for more than two years Massachusetts has been marrying same-sex couples, including couples who travel and move outside the state. Spot the chaos? The wholesale legal confusion?

In fact, what is most remarkable about Massachusetts's gay-marriage experiment is how little legal confusion and inconvenience it has caused. As evidence that a state-by-state approach is unworkable, proponents of a federal amendment can point to a messy Virginia child-custody case and—well, not much else.

The social ramifications of gay marriage will take time to unfurl; but if rampant legal confusion were going to be the result of Massachusetts' gay marriages, it should have begun to appear by now.

Indeed, few defenders of a state-by-state approach would have dared predict that the Massachusetts experiment would create as few legal tangles as it has. That the states can go their separate ways on gay marriage is no longer a prediction; it is a fact.

MPA supporters note that a court, and not the people, ordered gay marriage in Massachusetts. That is true but not relevant. Congress has no more business overriding state courts than it does overriding state legislatures. If a state fears that its courts will order gay marriage, it can change its constitution, which is exactly what 18 states have already done and what as many as nine more will do in November. More than half the states have statutorily banned gay marriage. A handful of states—California, New Jersey, New York, and Washington are possibilities—might wind up with judicially imposed gay marriage; the large majority, it is now clear, will not.

In 2004, MPA advocates liked to say that pre-empting state legislatures and electorates was of no practical consequence, because only judges would support so alien a notion as same-sex marriage. That argument expired last September, when the California Legislature passed the Religious Freedom and Civil Marriage Protection Act, a bill legalizing same-sex marriage. Republican Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger vetoed the bill, but the question is no longer academic: How do MPA proponents, who claim to champion democratic decision-making, justify handcuffing the democratically elected Legislature of the largest state in the union?

At bottom, what many MPA proponents want to forestall is not judicially enacted gay marriage; it is gay marriage, period. They say that an institution as fundamental as marriage needs a uniform definition: a single moral template for the whole country.

That argument would seem more compelling if marriage were more important than human life. Many of the same conservatives who want the federal government, not the states, to settle gay marriage also want the states, not the federal government, to settle abortion. Sen. George Allen, R-Va., for example, supports the MPA, but he would like to see Roe v. Wade "reinterpreted" so that states would decide the fate of abortion. Although the 2004 Republican platform calls for a "human life amendment to the Constitution," you will look in vain for any such amendment on the Senate floor.

Two questions for anti-gay-marriage, anti-abortion Republicans: If states can be allowed to go their own way in defining human life, why not allow them to go their own way in defining marriage? Where constitutional amendments are concerned, why is preventing gay couples from marrying so much more urgent than preventing unborn children from being killed?

It is precisely because marriage is so important, and because it is the subject of such profound moral disagreement, that a one-size-fits-all federal solution is the wrong approach. California and Texas, Massachusetts and Oklahoma take very different views of same-sex marriage. By localizing the most intractable moral issues, federalism prevents national culture wars.

In 2006, that argument is no longer hypothetical. Federalism is working. As the public sees that states are coping competently and that no one state will decide for all the rest, the atmosphere of panic over gay marriage has mercifully subsided, providing the time and calm that the issue needs.

The national Republican leadership's bid to upset this emerging equilibrium is demagoguery, which is sad. Conservative politicians' betrayal of federalist principles to distract attention from their broken promises is cynicism, which is sadder. And none of this is surprising -- which is saddest of all.

© Copyright 2006 National Journal
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