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.

Wednesday, August 3, 2005

Roberts' Catholicism: My Take

(Crossposted from my personal blog.)

Questions are being raised in some quarters about SCOTUS Nominee John Roberts' apparently devout Catholic faith. Christopher Hitchens, for example, tackles the issue with his usual sensitivity and couth:

The Roman Catholic Church claims the right to legislate on morals for all its members and to excommunicate them if they don't conform. The church is also a foreign state, which has diplomatic relations with Washington. In the very recent past, this church and this state gave asylum to Cardinal Bernard Law, who should have been indicted for his role in the systematic rape and torture of thousands of American children. (Not that child abuse is condemned in the Ten Commandments, any more than slavery or genocide or rape.)

Yes, once again Hitchens has demonstrated that anti-Catholicism is the last form of bigotry respectable amongst the elite. (On which subject, BTW, see Kenneth Woodward's outstanding article The Last Respectable Prejudice.) Ramesh Ponnuru, Rick Garnett, and Steve Dillard have all spanked Hitchens and appropriately so.

Others, however, are raising the question in a more temperate way. Cathy Young writes in Reason, for example, that:

A candidate's or nominee's ideology should be fair game whether it's religious or secular in nature, whether it's rooted in conservative Catholicism or liberal feminism.

Blogger David Giaclone writes in more detail:

I think we should be asking John Roberts if he considers himself a "Serious Catholic." More specifically, does he subscribe to the principles laid out in the "Voter's Guide for Serious Catholics," that was widely read and followed by the most devout of the Faithful during the 2004 Election. (prior post) If he does, we need to ask Judge Roberts whether he believes those principles and requirements to be applicable to the actions of a Justice of the United States Supreme Court. If he won't answer or answers in the negative, the rest of us -- as lawyers and citizens -- are surely allowed to draw our own analogies and conclusions.

I think these are legitimate questions deserving a fair answer. (More precisely, I think David's question is not the right one but is in the neighborhood of the right question.)

Let's start with first principles. It seems clear to me that a judge may consider moral norms in making judicial decisions. As I explained in my article Social Propositions and Common Law Adjudication, however, judges may not look to their own moral values:

Any complex society needs an institution before which claims based on existing societal standards can be heard. In our society, that institution is the courts.20 “If the courts resolved disputes by reasoning from those moral norms and policies they think best, there would be no institution to which a member of the society could go to vindicate a claim of right based on existing standards.” Second, since the judicial system is a peculiarly undemocratic institution, the legitimacy of the adjudicative process requires courts to look to “existing legal and social standards rather than those standards the court thinks best.” Finally, prohibiting the courts from employing their personal standards makes legal reasoning fairer and more easily replicable by the profession. (Page 6)

Instead, judges may consider only those moral norms having substantial support in the relevant community. (See pages 7-10 of my article.) Although my article focused on common law adjudication, I believe the same holds true with respect to constitutional and statutory interpretation. Of course, some would argue that a judge should be an originalist and a strict constructionist with respect to the latter forms of adjudication, which would obviate the relevance of personal or social moral norms. As Justice Scalia one put it:

Before proceeding to discuss the morality of capital punishment, I want to make clear that my views on the subject have nothing to do with how I vote in capital cases that come before the Supreme Court. That statement would not be true if I subscribed to the conventional fallacy that the Constitution is a “living document”—that is, a text that means from age to age whatever the society (or perhaps the Court) thinks it ought to mean.

I've got substantial sympathy for that point of view, of course, but I'm assuming herein that evaluation of moral norms is relevant to at least some aspects of what a Supreme Court justice does.

I'm also inclined to believe that the Senate's advise and consent function goes beyond a nominee's bare qualifications to include evaluation of the nominee's judicial philosophy. Certainly, if I were a Senator, I would want some assurance that the nominee is an originalist and strict constructionist!

As David Giaclone correctly observes, the Roman Catholic Church does instruct its members on their role in the public square. The relevant document is not the Voter's Guide to which David relies, of course, but rather the Vatican's Doctrinal Note on Some Questions Regarding the Participation of Catholics in Political Life, which is the most recent authoritative Church statement on these issues. It states in pertinent part:

When political activity comes up against moral principles that do not admit of exception, compromise or derogation, the Catholic commitment becomes more evident and laden with responsibility. In the face of fundamental and inalienable ethical demands, Christians must recognize that what is at stake is the essence of the moral law, which concerns the integral good of the human person.

Note the italicized phrase - political activity. This is a significant qualification, because the Church distinguishes between formal and material cooperation with evil. Here's as good an explanation of the distinction as any:

Formal cooperation is when a person (the cooperator) first of all gives consent to the evil action of another (the actor). Here the cooperator shares the same intention as the actor. The cooperator also joins in the actual performance of the evil action or supplies the actor with the means of performing it. Essentially, he consents to and helps enact the sin. For example, using the example of abortion, a nurse who assists a doctor in performing an abortion and shares the same intention is formally cooperating with evil. A legislator who actively promotes abortion legislation enabling innocent human beings to perish is guilty of formal cooperation with evil. Formal cooperation with evil is always wrong, and the cooperator shares in the guilt of the sin of the actor.

Material cooperation is when the cooperator performs an action that itself is not evil, but in so doing helps the actor perform another evil action. The moral quality of material cooperation depends upon how close the act of the cooperator is to the evil action, and whether there is a proportionate reason for performing the action.

In 2004, then-Cardinal Ratzinger (Now Pope Benedict XVI), elaborated on the Note in his statement Worthiness to Receive Holy Communion: General Principles:

Regarding the grave sin of abortion or euthanasia, when a person’s formal cooperation becomes manifest (understood, in the case of a Catholic politician, as his consistently campaigning and voting for permissive abortion and euthanasia laws), his Pastor should meet with him, instructing him about the Church’s teaching, informing him that he is not to present himself for Holy Communion until he brings to an end the objective situation of sin, and warning him that he will otherwise be denied the Eucharist. ...

A Catholic would be guilty of formal cooperation in evil, and so unworthy to present himself for Holy Communion, if he were to deliberately vote for a candidate precisely because of the candidate’s permissive stand on abortion and/or euthanasia. When a Catholic does not share a candidate’s stand in favour of abortion and/or euthanasia, but votes for that candidate for other reasons, it is considered remote material cooperation, which can be permitted in the presence of proportionate reasons.

In other words, even in the sphere of political activity, the difference between formal and material cooperation with evil can lead to differing results. A Catholic who has good reason to support a pro-"choice" candidate despite the candidate's views on abortion thus does not commit formal cooperation with evil and, accordingly, is free to do so without violating any moral precept of the Church.

I have elaborated on this distinction at some length, because I wish David and others to understand that judicial decision making with respect to issues raising moral questions under Church teaching does not per se constitute formal cooperation with evil. This is important because it is only in those limited class of cases in which one's activity constitutes formal cooperation with evil that a judge who is a serious Catholic, to use David's phrase, is per se religiously obligated to put one's faith-based beliefs ahead of, say, one's views of precedent or socially accepted moral norms. (As we have seen, whether material cooperation requires one to do so depends on one's intent. The doctrine of double effect can be helpful in resolving such cases.)  Even in the "worst" case scenario, Judge Roberts's decisions would be driven by his faith only in a small number of cases. And, in at least some of those, the teachings of the Church may well coincide with moral norms sufficiently widely shared throughout the community and/ or nation to satsfy the social support criterion required of moral norms proposed to be drawn upon in adjudiciation, in which case the analysis above of the use of social norms in adjudication suggests there would be no objection to the judge drawing simultaneously on his faith and consistent more broadly social norms. In the remaining cases where the teachings of the faith cannot be reconciled with the prevailing moral norms of society, which I believe will be few in number, the problem can be managed on a case-by-case basis.

An excellent analysis of this question was offered in the context of the death penalty by John Garvey and Amy Coney in their article Catholic Judges in Capital Cases, 81 Marq. L. Rev. 303, 343 (1998). I haven't been able to find it on line, unfortunately, but here's their bottom line:

Catholic judges (if they are faithful to the teaching of their church) are morally precluded from enforcing the death penalty. This means that they can neither themselves sentence criminals to death nor enforce jury recommendations of death. Whether they may affirm lower court orders of either kind is a question we have the most difficulty in resolving. There are parts of capital cases in which we think orthodox Catholic judges may participate - these include trial on the issue of guilt and collateral review of capital convictions. The moral impossibility of enforcing capital punishment in the first two or three cases (sentencing, enforcing jury recommendations, affirming) is a sufficient reason for recusal under federal law. But mere identification of a judge as Catholic is not a sufficient reason. Indeed, it is constitutionally insufficient.

In other words, they argue that "sentenc[ing] criminals to death" and enforcing "jury recommendations of death" constitute formal cooperation with evil. In contrast, collateral review of capital convictions at most constitutes remote material cooperation with evil. In my view, much the same analysis would apply to hot button issues like abortion and euthanasia, although I acknowledge that Justice Scalia takes a different view:

... a judge, I think, bears no moral guilt for the laws society has failed to enact. Thus, my difficulty with Roe v. Wade is a legal rather than a moral one: I do not believe (and, for two hundred years, no one believed) that the Constitution contains a right to abortion. And if a state were to permit abortion on demand, I would—and could in good conscience—vote against an attempt to invalidate that law for the same reason that I vote against the invalidation of laws that forbid abortion on demand: because the Constitution gives the federal government (and hence me) no power over the matter.

Garvey and Coney's conclusions are somewhat controversial, of course. Indeed, Justice Scalia has suggested that he thinks he could not serve on the bench if he thought the death penalty were immoral:

... while my views on the morality of the death penalty have nothing to do with how I vote as a judge, they have a lot to do with whether I can or should be a judge at all.

In the end, however, I come down with Garvey and Coney - where a Catholic judge believes his participation in a particular case would constitute formal cooperation with evil, the judge should recuse himself. The possibility that a judge (or justice) might have to recuse himself in occasional cases, however, does not strike me as a legitimate reason to deny the judge a seat on the bench.

I said earlier that David's question was not the right one but was in the neighborhood of the right question. It should not be apparent what are the right questions. If I were a Senator, I would ask Judge Roberts the following questions:

  1. Do you believe that a judge should recuse himself if his participation in a particular case would constitute formal cooperation with evil?
  2. Would you recuse yourself under such circumstances?

I'm inclined to think that one should not ask Judge Roberts whether he believes reviewing death penalty cases would constitute formal cooperation with evil (or the dame re abortion etc.). Even hot button constitutional issues are often highly fact specific. It would be unfair and unworkable to ask a judge to prejudge every possible variant of every issue that might come up in a long career.

Tuesday, August 2, 2005

New Urbanism and Urbanism

Regular MOJ readers know that I seem to have a tic that requires me to blog every few weeks about the "New Urbanism."  So, here I go again.  Here is a long, and very interesting, post, by (I think) a Notre Dame undergraduate and architecture student at the blog, "The Shrine of the Holy Whapping":

Urbanism is the study of city growth and city development, and New Urbanism is a philosophical and practical attempt to work out a way to bring back suburbanized America to a more classical European model. I was a fervent New Urbanist when I began school here, but of late I've developed a more nuanced, and to some degree, skeptical view of the theories in vogue in the Traditional Architecture community. . . .

I have, too.  Here is more:

I like the idea of the New Urbanism, I really do, but part of me wonders if it's too good to be true, a William Morris dream with a touch of self-destructive loveliness to it. Jolly Leon Krier's faintly morbid existentialist streak also puts me on guard as a Catholic; for him a church seems like just another piece of meaning-making urban furniture, less a place of prayer and liturgy than a vague symbol of transcendence on par or even less important than, say, the town hall, gymnasium or one of those (quite wonderful, yes) landmark towers he is so fascinated by. Most of the developments built according to its tenets have been too successful for their own good; only rich people live in Seaside, Florida, now; rather than bicycling to work they commute in for the weekend in their beach-house. And I don't begrudge them that, it's their money and their right to do with it as they wish. Without them, there would be no New Urbanism here, even in fragmentary form. But Seaside and such other communities can't be considered proper working models of the philosophy.

There's also the small fact people seem to like suburbia. I don't want to fall into the fallacy of simply dismissing it as the tastes of the booboisie but legislating life through urbanism and architecture--the massive worker hives of the Soviet Union, for instance--has a slightly collectivist edge which sits poorly on my stomach. I'm indifferent to suburbia myself, neither loving nor hating it, as I realize my own suburban experience is vastly different from the way other people grew up. I grew up in a quiet, forested neighborhood where they didn't cut down the trees and name streets after them, but kept them and let them grow, and in the early days sometimes we even saw deer bound through our yard. I wouldn't say it was an ideal, workable system as humane as Seaside is or ought to be, but it wasn't the soulless dystopia people like to make it out to be. We made it work.

The author goes on to discuss some of the possible barriers to the New Urbanism's success in the United States.  Check it out.

Rick

Chris Hitchens on "Catholic Justice"

I love reading Christopher Hitchens.  So, I just grin and bear it when he directs his quite potent rhetorical venom at folks I like, like Churchill, JP II, and Mother Teresa.  Here is an essay, on Slate, where he urges readers to "quit tip-toeing around John Roberts' faith."  In a nutshell, he tells people to stop pretending to be so shocked-and-chargrined by questions about Roberts' Catholicism -- or Catholicism generally -- and to face up to the fact that it is perfectly reasonable to worry about the Catholicism of public officials and the influence of Catholicism in public life because, well, Catholicism is worrisome.  He writes:

Why should this question [i.e., about the possibility of a conflict between a judge's legal duties and his or her faith] be asked only of Catholics? Well, that's easy. The Roman Catholic Church claims the right to legislate on morals for all its members and to excommunicate them if they don't conform. [RG:  Don't most religions, and most associations of any kind for that matter, claim pretty much the same "right"?]  The church is also a foreign state, which has diplomatic relations with Washington. In the very recent past, this church and this state gave asylum to Cardinal Bernard Law, who should have been indicted for his role in the systematic rape and torture of thousands of American children. . . .

[Q]uite apart from the scandalous obstruction of American justice in which the church took part in the matter of Cardinal Law, we have increasingly firm papal dogmas on two issues that are bound to come before the court: abortion and the teaching of Darwin in schools. So, please do not accuse me of suggesting a "dual loyalty" among American Catholics.  It is their own church, and its conduct and its teachings, that raise this question.  [RG:  Again, it is simply not clear why the possibility of exclusion from the Catholic Church and its sacraments is treated so differently by Hitchens, in terms of its possible corrupting influence on a judge's deliberations, than would be the possibility of exclusion from any other association, institution, or relationship.] . . .

If Roberts is confirmed there will be quite a bloc of Catholics on the court. Scalia, Kennedy, and Thomas are strong in the faith. Is it kosher to mention these things? The Constitution rightly forbids any religious test for public office, but what happens when a religious affiliation conflicts with a judge's oath to uphold the Constitution?  [RG:  Well, this is pretty easy, isn't it?  If anything "conflicts with a judge's oath to uphold the Constitution," then we have trouble, right?  But there is no reason to think, or even to suspect, that Roberts's "religious affiliation" conflicts with his "oath to uphold the Constitution."  Nothing in Catholicism precludes Roberts from taking the following (perfectly reasonable) course:  (a) Upholding the Constitution by interpreting and applying, fairly and objectively, the laws, treaties, and Constitution of the United States, and (b) recusing himself or resigning, if necessary to avoid culpable cooperation with evil.]

Oh well, nobody's perfect.

Rick

Monday, August 1, 2005

Catholic judges and Catholic politicians

This op-ed by Michael McGough, "Catholic judges and a higher authority," is confused.  After noting that some Catholics have argued that some abortion-rights-supporting politicians should not receive communion, McGough asks, in effect, what about the judges?  "But for those bishops who do take a hard line against pro-choice legislators, there is no excuse in theology or logic for holding back from sanctioning Catholic judges — such as Supreme Court Justice Anthony M. Kennedy — who vote to affirm or apply Roe vs. Wade."

This is silly, of course.  True, McGough concedes that:

[N]ot targeting judges might be explained by the differences between legislators and adjudicators.  Judges (in theory anyway) are ruling on the basis of a disinterested reading of the law, not their personal beliefs. But pro-choice members of Congress can similarly argue that their pro-choice votes are a reflection not of their own views but of the desires of their constituents.  Whether the public official's defense is "the polls made me do it" or "precedent made me do it," isn't the moral issue the same?

What's particularly frustrating is that the asserted equivalence between (a) refusing to overrule Roe v. Wade and, say, (b) voting to fund late-term abortions is superficially appealing enough so that many readers will follow McGough into the error of thinking that McGough's point is clever or powerful.

On the other hand, there is something to the last line quoted above:  "[i]sn't the moral issue the same?"  I guess it is, in that both politicians and judges have a moral obligation to avoid scandal and to avoid culpable cooperation with evil.  It seems pretty clear to me that a judge who (mistakenly) concludes that the Constitution permits legislatures to permit abortion is in a very different position, cooperation-with-evil wise, than a legislator who votes to subsidize abortion.

Rick

More on Neo-Darwinism and Cardinal Schonborn

Here is an essay, "Darwinism and Catholicism Should Be Compatible," by Notre Dame's Professor Gary Belovsky.  The essay is critical of Christoph Cardinal Schonborn's recent New York Times op-ed, in which the Cardinal was, in turn, critical of "neo-Darwinian" evolution.  (For some earlier MOJ posts on this matter, click here and here).

There is much in Professor Belovsky's essay that strikes me as helpful and, well, right.  I'm not sure about this, though:   "Cardinal Schönborn is afraid of Neo-Darwinsism because he has advocated literal interpretation of biblical creation stories and proclaims God’s purpose in all events."  I would be very surprised if Cardinal Schonborn "has advocated literal interpretation of biblical creation stories"; if anyone has any evidence for or examples of such advocacy, please let me know.

He also writes:

Combining science and religion is dangerous, because science relies on observation and religion relies on faith.  God’s existence cannot be scientifically proven, because God cannot be measured; individuals must personally accept God’s existence on faith. 

I think Professor Belovsky might be overstating his case a bit here.  It seems fair to read him as claiming that, unlike "science," "religion [only] relies on faith [and not reason]."  That claim strikes me as off the mark.  Obviously, not all of the truths of religion are demonstrable; still, theology and "religion" do draw on "reason."  Catholics -- and Professor Belovsky is one -- are not fideists.

Professor Belovsky concludes:  "Do we now return to pre-Darwinian views that earth was created only 6000 years ago and fossils of long extinct animals and plants are not real, but are God’s test of our faith?"  Absolutely  not.  But Cardinal Schonborn certainly did not suggest or endorse such a return.  Belovsky's objections here seeem misdirected.

Rick

Sunday, July 31, 2005

Ferguson, Krugman, Britain & France

Here are two, possibly complementary, op-eds -- one by Niall Ferguson about the apparent decline in religion (or, religiosity) in Britain, and the other by Paul Krugman on the state of things related to work and family in France.  Ferguson writes:

Why have the British lost their historic faith? Like so many difficult questions, this seems at first sight to have an easy answer. But before you blame it on "The Sixties" - the Beatles, the Pill and the mini-skirt - remember that the United States had all these earthly delights too, without ceasing to be a Christian country. To be frank, I have no idea what the answer is. But I do know that it matters.

Chesterton feared that, if Christianity declined, "superstition" would "drown all your old rationalism and scepticism". When educated friends tell me that they have invited a shaman to investigate their new house for bad ju-ju, I see what Chesterton meant. Yet it is not the spread of such mumbo-jumbo that concerns me half so much as the moral vacuum our dechristianisation has created. I do not deny that sermons are sometimes dull and that British congregations often sing out of tune. But, if nothing else, a weekly dose of Christian doctrine will help to provide an ethical framework for your life. And I certainly do not know where else you are going to get one.

Over the past few weeks we have all read a great deal about the threat posed to our "way of life" by Muslim extremists like Muktar Said-Ibrahim. But how far has our own loss of religious faith turned this country into a soft target - not so much for the superstition Chesterton feared, but for the fanaticism of others?

Echoing an argument that some have pressed here at MOJ, Krugman writes:

The point is that to the extent that the French have less income than we do, it's mainly a matter of choice. And to see the consequences of that choice, let's ask how the situation of a typical middle-class family in France compares with that of its American counterpart.

The French family, without question, has lower disposable income. This translates into lower personal consumption: a smaller car, a smaller house, less eating out.

But there are compensations for this lower level of consumption. Because French schools are good across the country, the French family doesn't have to worry as much about getting its children into a good school district. Nor does the French family, with guaranteed access to excellent health care, have to worry about losing health insurance or being driven into bankruptcy by medical bills.

Perhaps even more important, however, the members of that French family are compensated for their lower income with much more time together. Fully employed French workers average about seven weeks of paid vacation a year. In America, that figure is less than four.

So which society has made the better choice?

There are some disputable factual premises doing a fair bit of work in Krugman's piece, but -- putting those aside -- the point is a provocative one.

Rick

Friday, July 29, 2005

Kmiec on Catholic Judges

Here is Pepperdine law prof (and former Notre Dame law prof!) Doug Kmiec, in the Wall Street Journal, writing (I think) sensibly about Catholic judges, recusal, Roberts, etc.:

Yes, the late Pope John Paul II admonished Catholic public officials to work legislatively to limit abortion--something that even most Democrats proclaim to be doing at least during general elections. But there is not one iota of church teaching demanding that a judge or justice exceed the scope of his office to undo, on solely religious grounds, the public law of abortion or any other matter.

In this supposed controversy it is fitting to recall St. Thomas More, known to history for resigning the chancellorship of England when he failed to persuade Henry VIII not to declare himself head of the church. More is revered as a martyr for dying "the King's good servant, but God's first." But as the patron saint of lawyers and statesmen, More is far better remembered for his earnest efforts, at every turn, to avoid inescapable conflict among law, faith and public duty.

Judge Roberts listens carefully to the questions he is asked, and the extreme premise of Sen. Durbin's question--as reported--was a judicial action requiring an immoral act. One would hope that all Americans, Catholic or otherwise, would recuse themselves from that.

Rick

Liberal governments and support of religion

A few days ago, in a post called "the Government's view of the content of religion," I asked (among other things), "[w]ould it be wise or wrong [or unconstitutional?] for a government to undertake, as a matter of policy, to push the doctrines of a particular religion in a government-approved direction, or to support a particular government-approved faction within a religious tradition, in order to serve what the government regards as the common good?"

Check out this very detailed and thoughtful post, at the Positive Liberty blog, by Jonathan Rowe, responding to my thoughts.  I don't necessarily with (what appear to be) Rowe's assumptions about the views and wants of "religious conservatives", but he really gets to some very important and interesting questions.

Rick

What can a judge do?

Thanks to those who have been adding their insights to the questions about judges, especially Catholic ones, and their judicial responsibilities to uphold the rule of law in the exercise of their duties. I am not suggesting that Judge Gee of the old Fifth Circuit provides answers to this problem, but he does offer some words worth taking into consideration. As a member of the Fifth Circuit, he upheld a District Court Decision critiquing an affirmative program that worked its way to the Supreme Court under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act. When the Supreme Court reversed the District and Circuit Courts and remanded the case back to the Fifth Circuit, the latter court issued its decision Download judge_gee_weber.doc . Judge Gee had these words to offer regarding what could be done with a decision that he found “profoundly wrong”:

Obedient to the mandate of the Supreme Court, we vacate the trial court’s judgment, as well as ours affirming it, and remand the cause to that court for further proceedings in conformity with the opinion above.

Then, speaking for himself, he offered these thoughts:

For myself only, and with all respect and deference, I here note my personal conviction that the decision of the Supreme Court in this case is profoundly wrong.

That it is wrong as a matter of statutory construction seems to me sufficiently demonstrated by the dissenting opinions of the Chief Justice and of Mr. Justice Rehnquist.  To these I can add nothing.  They make plain beyond peradventure that the Civil Rights Act of 1964 passed the Congress on the express representation of its sponsors that it would not and could not be construed as the Court has now construed it.  What could be plainer than the words of the late Senator Humphrey defending the bill against the charge that it adumbrated quotas and preferential treatment that “the title would Prohibit preferential treatment for any particular group . . . .”? The Court now tells us that this is not so.  That it feels it may properly do so seems to me a grievous thing.

But sadder still tragic, in my own view is the Court’s departure from the long road that we have travelled from Plessy v. Ferguson, toward making good Mr. Justice Harlan’s anguished cry in dissent that “(o)ur Constitution is color-blind, and neither knows nor tolerates classes among citizens.”  I voice my profound belief that this present action, like Plessy, is a wrong and dangerous turning, and my confident hope that we will soon return to the high, bright road on which we disdain to classify a citizen, Any citizen, to any degree or for any purpose by the color of his skin.

Though for the above reasons I think it gravely mistaken, I do not say that the Court’s decision is immoral or unjust indeed, in some basic sense it may well represent true justice.  But there are many actions roughly just that our laws do not authorize and our Constitution forbids, actions such as preventing a Nazi Party march through a town where reside former inmates of concentration camps or inflicting summary punishment on one caught redhanded in a crime.

Subordinate magistrates such as I must either obey the orders of higher authority or yield up their posts to those who will.  I obey, since in my view the action required of me by the Court’s mandate is only to follow a mistaken course and not an evil one.

One of the difficulties judges and the rest of us face is how to make the distinction between the “mistaken course” and an “evil one.” This brings up the point about material and formal cooperation on which Ed Hartnett is working. Judge Gee does not mention recusal as an option, but he does mention resignation. That is an extreme measure that may lead to a good and virtuous person leaving an office in which he or she should remain. But, I think what Judge Gee did by putting into the public record his concerns and his justifications for them reveals that there are alternatives, besides recusal and resignation, to what a judge can do in a case where he or she concludes that some higher human authority, be it a legislature or another judge, is “profoundly wrong.” RJA sj

Civil Disobedience and Judicial Power

Immigration lawyer Chuck Roth offers the following reflections on my earlier query regarding civil disobedience and the Catholic judge:

In our legal system, it is the role of judges to say "what the law is." In our judicial system, to rule that the law says X when in fact you know that it says Y is, in effect, a lie.  One cannot do evil that good should come of it.  Lies are immoral.  So at the level of legal analysis, you cannot willfully misstate the law, even to achieve a good end like saving a life.

I think the Judge Sprizzo example is inapposite.  Juries find not only facts, but (implicitly) decide that their sense of justice does not preclude conviction.  I see jury nullification as a crucial part of the jury's raison d'etre, as a democratic check on the political branches.  Thus, I don't view jury nullification as a lie.  Because Judge Sprizzo was acting as judge and jury, he assumed the powers of jury nullification as well.  As such, it was no lie for him to decline to convict, precisely because he was acting as jury, not judge.  So I support what he did; but that tells us about the role of a jury, not the role of a judge.

Here is an example of civil disobedience for a Judge.  A Court of Appeals judge is on a three-judge panel, and dissents, admitting that settled law calls for the conclusion reached by the majority, but refusing to consent to it.  This would not be a lie, because it acknowledges the reigning law.  But it would be a conscientious refusal to conform to that law. 

But what if two judges on the panel felt morally obligated to dissent?  This is the same circumstance as a District Court judge, on remand from the Court of Appeals, required by law to order, e.g., the destruction of fertilized eggs.  It seems to me that power changes the equation.  It is part of the nature of civil disobedience that one must be in a position of submitting to power, not wielding it.  In being civilly disobedient, one respects the law, recognizes its authority, and submits to punishment.  But where disobedience becomes so powerful as to overmaster the law, it is not susceptible to punishment, and thus cannot recognize the law's authority by submitting to legal penalties.

If it is correct to conclude that civil disobedience requires a situation of relative powerlessness, it follows that Judges can only be civilly disobedient when in the dissent.
 
All that being said, civil disobedience is not the only option in the face of injustice endorsed by authority.  As your citation of Garrison suggests, revolution is another alternative.  And I would see the act of a judge wielding power in disobedience to higher appellate authority (either as a Dist Ct judge, or in a majority) as revolution.  There may be circumstances - e.g., Bonhoeffer and Hitler - where one is morally permitted, perhaps even obligated, to rebel.  But in starting a revolution, as with any just war, one would have to carefully and prudently consider the likely effects as well as the causus belli.  So the question becomes: is the legal system so far gone as to require revolution?  Fr. Neuhaus seems (seemed?) to think so.  I am dubious, as, it sounds, are you.