SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
_________________
No. 12–307
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UNITED STATES, PETITIONER v. EDITH SCHLAIN
WINDSOR, in her capacity as executor of the ESTATE OF THEA CLARA
SPYER, et al.
on writ of certiorari to the united states
court of appeals for the second circuit
[June 26, 2013]
Justice Scalia, with
whom Justice Thomas joins, and with whom The Chief Justice joins as
to Part I, dissenting.
This case is about
power in several respects. It is about the power of our people to
govern themselves, and the power of this Court to pronounce the
law. Today’s opinion aggrandizes the latter, with the
predictable consequence of diminishing the former. We have no power
to decide this case. And even if we did, we have no power under the
Constitution to invalidate this democratically adopted leg-
islation. The Court’s errors on both points spring forth from
the same diseased root: an exalted conception of the role of this
institution in America.
I
A
The Court is
eager—hungry—to tell everyone its view of the legal
question at the heart of this case. Standing in the way is an
obstacle, a technicality of little interest to anyone but the
people of We the People, who created it as a barrier against
judges’ intrusion into their lives. They gave judges, in
Article III, only the “judicial Power,” a power to
decide not abstract questions but real, concrete
“Cases” and “Controversies.” Yet the
plaintiff and the Gov- ernment agree entirely on what should happen
in this lawsuit. They agree that the court below got it right; and
they agreed in the court below that the court below that one got it
right as well. What, then, are we doing here?
The answer lies at the
heart of the jurisdictional portion of today’s opinion, where
a single sentence lays bare the majority’s vision of our
role. The Court says that we have the power to decide this case
because if we did not, then our “primary role in determining
the constitutionality of a law” (at least one that “has
inflicted real injury on a plaintiff”) would “become
only secondary to the President’s.” Ante, at 12. But
wait, the reader wonders—Windsor won below, and so cured her
injury, and the President was glad to see it. True, says the
majority, but judicial review must march on regardless, lest we
“undermine the clear dictate of the separation-of-powers
principle that when an Act of Congress is alleged to conflict with
the Constitution, it is emphatically the province and duty of the
judicial department to say what the law is.” Ibid. (internal
quotation marks and brackets omitted).
That is jaw-dropping.
It is an assertion of judicial supremacy over the people’s
Representatives in Congress and the Executive. It envisions a
Supreme Court standing (or rather enthroned) at the apex of
government, empowered to decide all constitutional questions,
always and every- where “primary” in its role.
This image of the Court
would have been unrecognizable to those who wrote and ratified our
national charter. They knew well the dangers of
“primary” power, and so created branches of government
that would be “perfectly co-ordinate by the terms of their
common commission,” none of which branches could
“pretend to an exclusive or superior right of settling the
boundaries between their respec- tive powers.” The
Federalist, No. 49, p. 314 (C. Rossiter ed. 1961) (J. Madison). The
people did this to protect themselves. They did it to guard their
right to self-rule against the black-robed supremacy that
today’s majority finds so attractive. So it was that Madison
could confidently state, with no fear of contradiction, that there
was nothing of “greater intrinsic value” or
“stamped with the authority of more enlightened patrons of
liberty” than a government of separate and coordinate powers.
Id., No. 47, at 301.
For this reason we are
quite forbidden to say what the law is whenever (as today’s
opinion asserts) “ ‘an Act of Congress is alleged
to conflict with the Constitution.’ ” Ante, at 12.
We can do so only when that allegation will determine the outcome
of a lawsuit, and is contradicted by the other party. The
“judicial Power” is not, as the major- ity believes,
the power “ ‘to say what the law
is,’ ” ibid., giving the Supreme Court the
“primary role in determining the constitutionality of
laws.” The majority must have in mind one of the foreign
constitutions that pronounces such primacy for its constitutional
court and allows that primacy to be exercised in contexts other
than a lawsuit. See, e.g., Basic Law for the Federal Republic of
Germany, Art. 93. The judicial power as Americans have understood
it (and their English ancestors before them) is the power to
adjudicate, with conclusive effect, disputed govern- ment claims
(civil or criminal) against private persons, and disputed claims by
private persons against the government or other private persons.
Sometimes (though not always) the parties before the court disagree
not with regard to the facts of their case (or not only with regard
to the facts) but with regard to the applicable law—in which
event (and only in which event) it becomes the
“ ‘province and duty of the judicial department to
say what the law is.’ ” Ante, at 12.
In other words,
declaring the compatibility of state or federal laws with the
Constitution is not only not the “primary role” of this
Court, it is not a separate, free-standing role at all. We perform
that role incidentally—by accident, as it were—when
that is necessary to resolve the dispute before us. Then, and only
then, does it become “ ‘the province and duty of
the judicial department to say what the law is.’ ”
That is why, in 1793, we politely declined the Washington
Administration’s request to “say what the law is”
on a particular treaty matter that was not the subject of a
concrete legal controversy. 3 Correspondence and Public Papers of
John Jay 486–489 (H. Johnston ed. 1893). And that is why, as
our opinions have said, some questions of law will never be
presented to this Court, because there will never be anyone with
standing to bring a lawsuit. See Schlesinger v. Reservists Comm. to
Stop the War, 418 U. S. 208, 227 (1974) ; United States v.
Richardson, 418 U. S. 166, 179 (1974) . As Justice Bran- deis
put it, we cannot “pass upon the constitutionality of
legislation in a friendly, non-adversary, proceeding”; absent
a “ ‘real, earnest and vital controversy between
individuals,’ ” we have neither any work to do nor
any power to do it. Ashwander v. TVA, 297 U. S. 288, 346
(1936) (concurring opinion) (quoting Chicago & Grand Trunk R.
Co. v. Wellman, 143 U. S. 339, 345 (1892) ). Our authority
begins and ends with the need to adjudge the rights of an injured
party who stands before us seeking redress. Lujan v. Defenders of
Wildlife, 504 U. S. 555, 560 (1992) .
That is completely
absent here. Windsor’s injury was cured by the judgment in
her favor. And while, in ordinary circumstances, the United States
is injured by a directive to pay a tax refund, this suit is far
from ordinary. Whatever injury the United States has suffered will
surely not be redressed by the action that it, as a litigant, asks
us to take. The final sentence of the Solicitor General’s
brief on the merits reads: “For the foregoing reasons, the
judgment of the court of appeals should be affirmed.” Brief
for United States (merits) 54 (emphasis added). That will not cure
the Government’s injury, but carve it into stone. One could
spend many fruitless afternoons ransacking our library for any
other petitioner’s brief seeking an affirmance of the
judgment against it. [
1 ] What
the petitioner United States asks us to do in the case before us is
exactly what the respondent Windsor asks us to do: not to provide
relief from the judgment below but to say that that judgment was
correct. And the same was true in the Court of Appeals: Neither
party sought to undo the judgment for Windsor, and so that court
should have dismissed the appeal (just as we should dismiss) for
lack of jurisdiction. Since both parties agreed with the judgment
of the District Court for the Southern District of New York, the
suit should have ended there. The further proceedings have been a
contrivance, having no object in mind except to ele- vate a
District Court judgment that has no precedential effect in other
courts, to one that has precedential effect throughout the Second
Circuit, and then (in this Court) precedential effect throughout
the United States.
We have never before
agreed to speak—to “say what the law
is”—where there is no controversy before us. In the
more than two centuries that this Court has existed as an
institution, we have never suggested that we have the power to
decide a question when every party agrees with both its nominal
opponent and the court below on that question’s answer. The
United States reluctantly con- ceded that at oral argument. See Tr.
of Oral Arg. 19–20.
The closest we have
ever come to what the Court blesses today was our opinion in INS v.
Chadha, 462 U. S. 919 (1983) . But in that case, two parties
to the litigation
disagreed with the position of the United States
and with the court below: the House and Senate, which had
intervened in the case. Because Chadha concerned the validity of a
mode of congressional action—the one-house legis- lative
veto—the House and Senate were threatened with destruction of
what they claimed to be one of their institutional powers. The
Executive choosing not to defend that power, [
2 ] we permitted the House and Senate to
intervene. Nothing like that is present here.
To be sure, the Court
in Chadha said that statutory aggrieved-party status was “not
altered by the fact that the Executive may agree with the holding
that the statute in question is unconstitutional.” Id., at
930–931. But in a footnote to that statement, the Court
acknowledged Arti- cle III’s separate requirement of a
“justiciable case or controversy,” and stated that this
requirement was satisfied “because of the presence of the two
Houses of Congress as adverse parties.” Id., at 931,
n. 6. Later in its opinion, the Chadha Court remarked that the
United States’ announced intention to enforce the statute
also sufficed to permit judicial review, even absent congressional
participation. Id., at 939. That remark is true, as a description
of the judicial review conducted in the Court of Appeals, where the
Houses of Congress had not inter-
vened. (The case originated in the Court of
Appeals, since it sought review of agency action under 8
U. S. C. §1105a(a) (1976 ed.).) There, absent a
judgment setting aside the INS order, Chadha faced deportation.
This pas- sage of our opinion seems to be addressing that initial
standing in the Court of Appeals, as indicated by its quotation
from the lower court’s opinion, 462 U. S., at
939–940. But if it was addressing standing to pursue the
appeal, the remark was both the purest dictum (as congressional
intervention at that point made the required adverseness
“beyond doubt,” id., at 939), and quite incorrect. When
a private party has a judicial decree safely in hand to prevent his
injury, additional judicial action requires that a party injured by
the decree seek to undo it. In Chadha, the intervening House and
Senate fulfilled that requirement. Here no one does.
The majority’s
discussion of the requirements of Article III bears no resemblance
to our jurisprudence. It accuses the amicus (appointed to argue
against our jurisdiction) of “elid[ing] the distinction
between . . . the jurisdictional requirements of Article
III and the prudential limits on its exercise.” Ante, at 6.
It then proceeds to call the requirement of adverseness a
“prudential” aspect of standing. Of standing. That is
incomprehensible. A plaintiff (or appellant) can have all the
standing in the world—satisfying all three standing
requirements of Lujan that the majority so carefully quotes, ante,
at 7—and yet no Article III controversy may be before the
court. Article III requires not just a plaintiff (or appellant) who
has standing to complain but an opposing party who denies the
validity of the complaint. It is not the amicus that has done the
eliding of distinctions, but the majority, calling the quite
separate Article III requirement of adverseness between the parties
an element (which it then pronounces a “prudential”
element) of standing. The question here is not whether, as the
majority puts it, “the United States retains a stake
sufficient to support Article III jurisdiction,” ibid. the
question is whether there is any controversy (which requires
contradiction) between the United States and Ms. Windsor. There is
not.
I find it wryly amusing
that the majority seeks to dismiss the requirement of
party-adverseness as nothing more than a “prudential”
aspect of the sole Article III requirement of standing. (Relegating
a jurisdictional re- quirement to “prudential” status
is a wondrous device, enabling courts to ignore the requirement
whenever they believe it “prudent”—which is to
say, a good idea.) Half a century ago, a Court similarly bent upon
announcing its view regarding the constitutionality of a federal
statute achieved that goal by effecting a remarkably similar but
completely opposite distortion of the principles limiting our
jurisdiction. The Court’s notorious opinion in Flast v.
Cohen, 392 U. S. 83 –101 (1968), held that standing was
merely an element (which it pronounced to be a
“prudential” element) of the sole Article III
requirement of adverseness. We have been living with the chaos
created by that power-grabbing decision ever since, see Hein v.
Freedom From Religion Foundation, Inc., 551 U. S. 587 (2007) ,
as we will have to live with the chaos created by this one.
The authorities the
majority cites fall miles short of supporting the counterintuitive
notion that an Article III “controversy” can exist
without disagreement between the parties. In Deposit Guaranty Nat.
Bank v. Roper, 445 U. S. 326 (1980) , the District Court had
entered judgment in the individual plaintiff’s favor based on
the defendant bank’s offer to pay the full amount claimed.
The plaintiff, however, sought to appeal the District Court’s
denial of class certification under Federal Rule of Civil Procedure
23. There was a continuing dispute between the parties concerning
the issue raised on appeal. The same is true of the other case
cited by the majority, Camreta v. Greene, 563 U. S. ___
(2011). There the District Court found that the defendant state
officers had violated the Fourth Amendment, but rendered judgment
in their favor because they were entitled to official immunity,
application of the Fourth Amendment to their conduct not having
been clear at the time of violation. The officers sought to appeal
the holding of Fourth Amendment violation, which would circumscribe
their future conduct; the plaintiff continued to insist that a
Fourth Amendment violation had occurred. The
“prudential” discretion to which both those cases refer
was the discretion to deny an appeal even when a live controversy
exists—not the discretion to grant one when it does not. The
majority can cite no case in which this Court entertained an appeal
in which both parties urged us to affirm the judgment below. And
that is because the existence of a controversy is not a
“prudential” requirement that we have invented, but an
essential element of an Article III case or controversy. The
majority’s notion that a case between friendly parties can be
entertained so long as “adversarial presentation of the
issues is assured by the participation of amici curiae prepared to
defend with vigor” the other side of the issue, ante, at 10,
effects a breathtaking revolution in our Article III
jurisprudence.
It may be argued that
if what we say is true some Presidential determinations that
statutes are unconstitutional will not be subject to our review.
That is as it should be, when both the President and the plaintiff
agree that the statute is unconstitutional. Where the Executive is
en- forcing an unconstitutional law, suit will of course lie; but
if, in that suit, the Executive admits the unconstitution- ality of
the law, the litigation should end in an order or a consent decree
enjoining enforcement. This suit saw the light of day only because
the President enforced the Act (and thus gave Windsor standing to
sue) even though he believed it unconstitutional. He could have
equally chosen (more appropriately, some would say) neither to
enforce nor to defend the statute he believed to be unconstitu-
tional, see Presidential Authority to Decline to Execute Un-
constitutional Statutes, 18 Op. Off. Legal Counsel 199 (Nov. 2,
1994)—in which event Windsor would not have been injured, the
District Court could not have refereed this friendly scrimmage, and
the Executive’s determination of unconstitutionality would
have escaped this Court’s desire to blurt out its view of the
law. The matter would have been left, as so many matters ought to
be left, to a tug of war between the President and the Congress,
which has innumerable means (up to and including impeachment) of
compelling the President to enforce the laws it has written. Or the
President could have evaded presentation of the constitutional
issue to this Court simply by declining to appeal the District
Court and Court of Appeals dispositions he agreed with. Be sure of
this much: If a President wants to insulate his judgment of
unconstitutionality from our review, he can. What the views urged
in this dissent produce is not insulation from judicial review but
insulation from Executive contrivance.
The majority brandishes
the famous sentence from Marbury v. Madison, 1 Cranch 137, 177
(1803) that “[i]t is emphatically the province and duty of
the judicial department to say what the law is.” Ante, at 12
(internal quotation marks omitted). But that sentence neither says
nor implies that it is always the province and duty of the Court to
say what the law is—much less that its responsibility in that
regard is a “primary” one. The very next sentence of
Chief Justice Marshall’s opinion makes the crucial
qualification that today’s majority ignores: “Those who
apply the rule to particular cases, must of necessity expound and
interpret that rule.” 1 Cranch, at 177 (emphasis added).
Only when a “particular case” is before us—that
is, a controversy that it is our business to resolve under Article
III—do we have the province and duty to pronounce the law.
For the views of our early Court more precisely addressing the
question before us here, the ma- jority ought instead to have
consulted the opinion of Chief Justice Taney in Lord v. Veazie, 8
How. 251 (1850):
“The objection in the case before us
is . . . that the plaintiff and defendant have the same
interest, and that interest adverse and in conflict with the
interest of third persons, whose rights would be seriously affected
if the question of law was decided in the manner that both of the
parties to this suit desire it to be.
“A judgment entered under such
circumstances, and for such purposes, is a mere form. The whole
proceeding was in contempt of the court, and highly reprehensible
. . . . A judgment in form, thus procured, in the
eye of the law is no judgment of the court. It is a nullity, and no
writ of error will lie upon it. This writ is, therefore,
dismissed.” Id., at 255–256.
There is, in the words of Marbury, no
“necessity [to] expound and interpret” the law in this
case; just a desire to place this Court at the center of the
Nation’s life. 1 Cranch, at 177.
B
A few words in
response to the theory of jurisdiction set forth in Justice
Alito’s dissent: Though less far reach- ing in its
consequences than the majority’s conversion of
constitutionally required adverseness into a discretionary element
of standing, the theory of that dissent similarly elevates the
Court to the “primary” determiner of constitutional
questions involving the separation of powers, and, to boot,
increases the power of the most dangerous branch: the
“legislative department,” which by its nature
“draw[s] all power into its impetuous vortex.” The
Federalist, No. 48, at 309 (J. Madison). Heretofore in our national
his- tory, the President’s failure to “take Care that
the Laws be faithfully executed,” U. S. Const.,
Art. II, §3, could only be brought before a judicial
tribunal by someone whose concrete interests were harmed by that
alleged failure. Justice Alito would create a system in which
Congress can hale the Executive before the courts not only to
vindicate its own institutional powers to act, but to correct a
perceived inadequacy in the execution of its laws. [
3 ] This would lay to rest
Tocqueville’s praise of our judicial system as one which
“intimately bind[s] the case made for the law with the case
made for one man,” one in which legislation is “no
longer exposed to the daily aggression of the parties,” and
in which “[t]he political question that [the judge] must
resolve is linked to the interest” of private litigants. A.
de Tocqueville, Democracy in America 97 (H. Mansfield
& D. Winthrop eds. 2000). That would be
replaced by a system in which Congress and the Executive can pop
immediately into court, in their institutional capacity, whenever
the President refuses to implement a statute he believes to be
unconstitutional, and whenever he implements a law in a manner that
is not to Congress’s liking.
Justice Alito’s
notion of standing will likewise enormously shrink the area to
which “judicial censure, exercised by the courts on
legislation, cannot extend,” ibid. For example, a bare
majority of both Houses could bring into court the assertion that
the Executive’s implementation of welfare programs is too
generous—a failure that no other litigant would have standing
to complain about. Moreover, as we indicated in Raines v. Byrd, 521
U. S. 811, 828 (1997) , if Congress can sue the Executive for
the erroneous application of the law that “injures” its
power to legislate, surely the Executive can sue Congress for its
erroneous adoption of an unconstitutional law that
“injures” the Executive’s power to
administer—or perhaps for its protracted failure to act on
one of his nominations. The opportunities for dragging the courts
into disputes hith- erto left for political resolution are
endless.
Justice Alito’s
dissent is correct that Raines did not formally decide this issue,
but its reasoning does. The opinion spends three pages discussing
famous, decades-long disputes between the President and
Congress—regarding congressional power to forbid the
Presidential removal of executive officers, regarding the
legislative veto, regarding congressional appointment of executive
officers, and regarding the pocket veto—that would surely
have been promptly resolved by a Congress-vs.-the-President lawsuit
if the impairment of a branch’s powers alone conferred
standing to commence litigation. But it does not, and never has;
the “enormous power that the judiciary would acquire”
from the ability to adjudicate such suits “would have made a
mockery of [Hamilton’s] quotation of Montesquieu to the
effect that ‘of the three powers above mentioned
. . . the JUDICIARY is next to
nothing.’ ” Barnes v. Kline, 759 F. 2d 21, 58
(CADC 1985) (Bork, J., dissenting) (quoting The Federalist No. 78
(A. Hamilton)).
To be sure, if Congress
cannot invoke our authority in the way that Justice Alito proposes,
then its only recourse is to confront the President directly.
Unimaginable evil this is not. Our system is designed for
confrontation. That is what “[a]mbition . . .
counteract[ing] ambition,” The Federalist, No. 51, at 322 (J.
Madison), is all about. If majorities in both Houses of Congress
care enough about the matter, they have available innumerable ways
to com- pel executive action without a lawsuit—from refusing
to confirm Presidential appointees to the elimination of funding.
(Nothing says “enforce the Act” quite like
“. . . or you will have money for little
else.”) But the condition is crucial; Congress must care
enough to act against the President itself, not merely enough to
instruct its lawyers to ask us to do so. Placing the
Constitution’s entirely anticipated political arm wrestling
into permanent judicial receivership does not do the system a
favor. And by the way, if the President loses the lawsuit but does
not faithfully implement the Court’s decree, just as he did
not faithfully implement Congress’s statute, what then? Only
Congress can bring him to heel by . . . what do you
think? Yes: a direct confrontation with the President.
II
For the reasons
above, I think that this Court has, and the Court of Appeals had,
no power to decide this suit. We should vacate the decision below
and remand to the Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, with
instructions to dismiss the appeal. Given that the majority has
volunteered its view of the merits, however, I proceed to discuss
that as well.
A
There are many
remarkable things about the majority’s merits holding. The
first is how rootless and shifting its justifications are. For
example, the opinion starts with seven full pages about the
traditional power of States to define domestic
relations—initially fooling many readers, I am sure, into
thinking that this is a federalism opinion. But we are eventually
told that “it is unnecessary to decide whether this federal
intrusion on state power is a vio- lation of the
Constitution,” and that “[t]he State’s power in
defining the marital relation is of central relevance in this case
quite apart from principles of federalism” be- cause
“the State’s decision to give this class of persons the
right to marry conferred upon them a dignity and status of immense
import.” Ante, at 18. But no one questions the power of the
States to define marriage (with the concomitant conferral of
dignity and status), so what is the point of devoting seven pages
to describing how long and well established that power is? Even
after the opinion has formally disclaimed reliance upon principles
of federalism, mentions of “the usual tradition of
recognizing and accepting state definitions of marriage”
continue. See, e.g., ante, at 20. What to make of this? The opinion
never explains. My guess is that the majority, while reluctant to
suggest that defining the meaning of “marriage” in
federal statutes is unsupported by any of the Federal
Government’s enumerated powers, [
4 ] nonetheless needs some rhetorical basis to support its
pretense that today’s prohibition of
laws excluding same-sex marriage is confined
to the Federal Government (leaving the second, state-law shoe to be
dropped later, maybe next Term). But I am only guessing.
Equally perplexing are
the opinion’s references to “the Constitution’s
guarantee of equality.” Ibid. Near the end of the opinion, we
are told that although the “equal protection guarantee of the
Fourteenth Amendment makes [the] Fifth Amendment [due process]
right all the more specific and all the better understood and
preserved”—what can that mean?—“the Fifth
Amendment itself withdraws from Government the power to degrade or
demean in the way this law does.” Ante, at 25. The only
possible interpretation of this statement is that the Equal
Protection Clause, even the Equal Protection Clause as incorporated
in the Due Process Clause, is not the basis for today’s
holding. But the portion of the majority opinion that explains why
DOMA is unconstitutional (Part IV) begins by citing Bolling v.
Sharpe, 347 U. S. 497 (1954) , Department of Agriculture v.
Moreno, 413 U. S. 528 (1973) , and Romer v. Evans, 517
U. S. 620 (1996) —all of which are equal-protection
cases. [
5 ] And those three
cases are the only authorities that the Court cites in Part IV
about the Constitution’s meaning, except for its citation of
Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U. S. 558 (2003) (not an
equal-protection case) to support its passing assertion that the
Constitution protects the “moral and sexual choices” of
same-sex couples, ante, at 23.
Moreover, if this is
meant to be an equal-protection opinion, it is a confusing one. The
opinion does not resolve and indeed does not even mention what had
been the
central question in this litigation: whether,
under the Equal Protection Clause, laws restricting marriage to a
man and a woman are reviewed for more than mere rationality. That
is the issue that divided the parties and the court below, compare
Brief for Respondent Bipartisan Legal Advisory Group of U. S.
House of Representatives (merits) 24–28 (no), with Brief for
Respondent Windsor (merits) 17–31 and Brief for United States
(merits) 18–36 (yes); and compare 699 F. 3d 169,
180–185 (CA2 2012) (yes), with id., at 208–211 (Straub,
J., dissenting in part and concurring in part) (no). In accord with
my previously expressed skepticism about the Court’s
“tiers of scrutiny” approach, I would review this
classification only for its rationality. See United States v.
Virginia, 518 U. S. 515 –570 (1996) (Scalia, J.,
dissenting). As nearly as I can tell, the Court agrees with that;
its opinion does not apply strict scrutiny, and its central
propositions are taken from rational-basis cases like Moreno. But
the Court certainly does not apply anything that resembles that
deferential framework. See Heller v. Doe, 509 U. S. 312, 320
(1993) (a classification “ ‘must be upheld
. . . if there is any reason- ably conceivable state of
facts’ ” that could justify it).
The majority opinion
need not get into the strict-vs.-rational-basis scrutiny question,
and need not justify its holding under either, because it says that
DOMA is unconstitutional as “a deprivation of the liberty of
the person protected by the Fifth Amendment of the
Constitution,” ante, at 25; that it violates “basic due
process” principles, ante, at 20; and that it inflicts an
“injury and indignity” of a kind that denies “an
essential part of the liberty pro- tected by the Fifth
Amendment,” ante, at 19. The majority never utters the dread
words “substantive due process,” perhaps sensing the
disrepute into which that doctrine has fallen, but that is what
those statements mean. Yet the opinion does not argue that same-sex
marriage is “deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and
tradition,” Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U. S. 702
–721 (1997), a claim that would of course be quite absurd. So
would the further suggestion (also necessary, under our
substantive-due-process precedents) that a world in which DOMA
exists is one bereft of “ ‘ordered
liberty.’ ” Id., at 721 (quoting Palko v.
Connecticut, 302 U. S. 319, 325 (1937) ).
Some might conclude
that this loaf could have used a while longer in the oven. But that
would be wrong; it is already overcooked. The most expert care in
preparation cannot redeem a bad recipe. The sum of all the
Court’s nonspecific hand-waving is that this law is invalid
(maybe on equal-protection grounds, maybe on
substantive-due-process grounds, and perhaps with some amorphous
federalism component playing a role) because it is motivated by a
“ ‘bare . . . desire to
harm’ ” couples in same-sex marriages. Ante, at
20. It is this proposition with which I will therefore engage.
B
As I have observed
before, the Constitution does not forbid the government to enforce
traditional moral and sexual norms. See Lawrence v. Texas, 539
U. S. 558, 599 (2003) (Scalia, J., dissenting). I will not
swell the U. S. Reports with restatements of that point. It is
enough to say that the Constitution neither requires nor forbids
our society to approve of same-sex marriage, much as it neither
requires nor forbids us to approve of no-fault divorce, polygamy,
or the consumption of alcohol.
However, even setting
aside traditional moral disapproval of same-sex marriage (or indeed
same-sex sex), there are many perfectly valid—indeed,
downright boring—justifying rationales for this legislation.
Their existence ought to be the end of this case. For they give the
lie to the Court’s conclusion that only those with hateful
hearts could have voted “aye” on this Act. And more
importantly, they serve to make the contents of the
legislators’ hearts quite irrelevant: “It is a familiar
principle of constitutional law that this Court will not strike
down an otherwise constitutional statute on the basis of an alleged
illicit legislative motive.” United States v. O’Brien,
391 U. S. 367, 383 (1968) . Or at least it was a familiar
principle. By holding to the contrary, the majority has declared
open season on any law that (in the opinion of the law’s
opponents and any panel of like-minded federal judges) can be
characterized as mean-spirited.
The majority concludes
that the only motive for this Act was the “bare
. . . desire to harm a politically unpopular
group.” Ante, at 20. Bear in mind that the object of this
condemnation is not the legislature of some once-Confederate
Southern state (familiar objects of the Court’s scorn, see,
e.g., Edwards v. Aguillard, 482 U. S. 578 (1987) ), but our
respected coordinate branches, the Congress and Presidency of the
United States. Laying such a charge against them should require the
most extraordinary evidence, and I would have thought that every
attempt would be made to indulge a more anodyne explanation for the
statute. The majority does the opposite—affirmatively
concealing from the reader the arguments that exist in
justification. It makes only a passing mention of the
“arguments put forward” by the Act’s defenders,
and does not even trouble to paraphrase or describe them. See ante,
at 21. I imagine that this is because it is harder to maintain the
illusion of the Act’s supporters as unhinged members of a
wild-eyed lynch mob when one first describes their views as they
see them.
To choose just one of
these defenders’ arguments, DOMA avoids difficult
choice-of-law issues that will now arise absent a uniform federal
definition of marriage. See, e.g., Baude, Beyond DOMA: Choice of
State Law in Fed- eral Statutes, 64 Stan. L. Rev. 1371 (2012).
Imagine a pair of women who marry in Albany and then move to
Alabama, which does not “recognize as valid any marriage of
parties of the same sex.” Ala. Code
§30–1–19(e) (2011). When the couple files their
next federal tax return, may it be a joint one? Which State’s
law controls, for federal-law purposes: their State of celebration
(which recognizes the marriage) or their State of domicile (which
does not)? (Does the answer depend on whether they were just
visiting in Albany?) Are these questions to be answered as a matter
of federal common law, or perhaps by borrowing a State’s
choice-of-law rules? If so, which State’s? And what about
States where the status of an out-of-state same-sex marriage is an
unsettled question under local law? See Godfrey v. Spano, 13
N. Y. 3d 358, 920 N. E. 2d 328 (2009). DOMA avoided all of
this uncertainty by speci- fying which marriages would be
recognized for federal purposes. That is a classic purpose for a
definitional provision.
Further, DOMA preserves
the intended effects of prior legislation against then-unforeseen
changes in circumstance. When Congress provided (for example) that
a special estate-tax exemption would exist for spouses, this
exemption reached only opposite-sex spouses—those being the
only sort that were recognized in any State at the time of
DOMA’s passage. When it became clear that changes in state
law might one day alter that balance, DOMA’s definitional
section was enacted to ensure that state-level experimentation did
not automatically alter the basic operation of federal law, unless
and until Congress made the further judgment to do so on its own.
That is not animus—just stabilizing prudence. Congress has
hardly demonstrated itself unwilling to make such further, revising
judgments upon due deliberation. See, e.g., Don’t Ask,
Don’t Tell Repeal Act of 2010, 124Stat. 3515.
The Court mentions none
of this. Instead, it accuses the Congress that enacted this law and
the President who signed it of something much worse than, for
example, having acted in excess of enumerated federal
powers—or even having drawn distinctions that prove to be
irrational. Those legal errors may be made in good faith, errors
though they are. But the majority says that the supporters of this
Act acted with malice—with the “purpose” (ante,
at 25) “to disparage and to injure” same-sex couples.
It says that the motivation for DOMA was to “demean,”
ibid.; to “impose inequality,” ante, at 22; to
“impose . . . a stigma,” ante, at 21; to deny
people “equal dignity,” ibid.; to brand gay people as
“unworthy,” ante, at 23; and to
“humiliat[e]” their children, ibid. (emphasis
added).
I am sure these
accusations are quite untrue. To be sure (as the majority points
out), the legislation is called the Defense of Marriage Act. But to
defend traditional marriage is not to condemn, demean, or humiliate
those who would prefer other arrangements, any more than to defend
the Constitution of the United States is to condemn, demean, or
humiliate other constitutions. To hurl such accusations so casually
demeans this institution. In the majority’s judgment, any
resistance to its holding is beyond the pale of reasoned
disagreement. To question its high-handed invalidation of a
presumptively valid statute is to act (the majority is sure) with
the purpose to “dis- parage,” ”injure,”
“degrade,” ”demean,” and
“humiliate” our fellow human beings, our fellow
citizens, who are homosexual. All that, simply for supporting an
Act that did no more than codify an aspect of marriage that had
been unquestioned in our society for most of its
existence—indeed, had been unquestioned in virtually all
societies for virtually all of human history. It is one thing for a
society to elect change; it is another for a court of law to impose
change by adjudging those who oppose it hostes humani generis,
enemies of the human race.
* * *
The penultimate
sentence of the majority’s opinion is a naked declaration
that “[t]his opinion and its holding are confined” to
those couples “joined in same-sex marriages made lawful by
the State.” Ante, at 26, 25. I have heard such “bald,
unreasoned disclaimer[s]” before. Lawrence, 539 U. S.,
at 604. When the Court declared a constitutional right to
homosexual sodomy, we were assured that the case had nothing,
nothing at all to do with “whether the government must give
formal recognition to any relationship that homosexual persons seek
to enter.” Id., at 578. Now we are told that DOMA is invalid
because it “demeans the couple, whose moral and sexual
choices the Constitution protects,” ante, at 23—with an
accompanying citation of Lawrence. It takes real cheek for
today’s majority to assure us, as it is going out the door,
that a constitutional requirement to give formal recognition to
same-sex marriage is not at issue here—when what has preceded
that assurance is a lecture on how superior the majority’s
moral judgment in favor of same-sex marriage is to the
Congress’s hateful moral judgment against it. I promise you
this: The only thing that will “confine” the
Court’s holding is its sense of what it can get away
with.
I do not mean to
suggest disagreement with The Chief Justice’s view, ante,
p. 2–4 (dissenting opinion), that lower federal courts
and state courts can distinguish today’s case when the issue
before them is state denial of marital status to same-sex
couples—or even that this Court could theoretically do so.
Lord, an opinion with such scatter-shot rationales as this one
(federalism noises among them) can be distinguished in many ways.
And deserves to be. State and lower federal courts should take the
Court at its word and distinguish away.
In my opinion, however,
the view that this Court will take of state prohibition of same-sex
marriage is indicated beyond mistaking by today’s opinion. As
I have said, the real rationale of today’s opinion, whatever
disappearing trail of its legalistic argle-bargle one chooses to
follow, is that DOMA is motivated by “ ‘bare
. . . desire to harm’ ” couples in
same-sex marriages. Supra, at 18. How easy it is, indeed how
inevitable, to reach the same conclusion with regard to state laws
denying same-sex couples marital status. Consider how easy
(inevitable) it is to make the following substitutions in a passage
from today’s opinion ante, at 22:
“DOMA’s This state law’s
principal effect is to identify a subset of state-sanctioned
marriages constitution- ally protected sexual relationships, see
Lawrence, and make them unequal. The principal purpose is to impose
inequality, not for other reasons like govern- mental efficiency.
Responsibilities, as well as rights, enhance the dignity and
integrity of the person. And DOMA this state law contrives to
deprive some couples married under the laws of their State enjoying
constitutionally protected sexual relationships, but not other
couples, of both rights and responsibilities.”
Or try this passage, from ante, at
22–23:
“[DOMA] This state law tells those
couples, and all the world, that their otherwise valid marriages
relationships are unworthy of federal state recognition. This
places same-sex couples in an unstable position of being in a
second-tier marriage relationship. The differentiation demeans the
couple, whose moral and sexual choices the Constitution protects,
see Lawrence, . . . .”
Or this, from ante, at 23—which does not
even require alteration, except as to the invented number:
“And it humiliates tens of thousands
of children now being raised by same-sex couples. The law in
question makes it even more difficult for the children to
understand the integrity and closeness of their own family and its
concord with other families in their commu- nity and in their daily
lives.”
Similarly transposable
passages—deliberately transpos- able, I think—abound.
In sum, that Court which finds it so horrific that Congress
irrationally and hatefully robbed same-sex couples of the
“personhood and dignity” which state legislatures
conferred upon them, will of a certitude be similarly appalled by
state legislatures’ irrational and hateful failure to
acknowledge that “personhood and dig- nity” in the
first place. Ante, at 26. As far as this Court is concerned, no one
should be fooled; it is just a matter of listening and waiting for
the other shoe.
By formally declaring
anyone opposed to same-sex marriage an enemy of human decency, the
majority arms well every challenger to a state law restricting
marriage to its traditional definition. Henceforth those
challengers will lead with this Court’s declaration that
there is “no legitimate purpose” served by such a law,
and will claim that the traditional definition has “the
purpose and effect to disparage and to injure” the
“personhood and dignity” of same-sex couples, see ante,
at 25, 26. The majority’s limiting assurance will be
meaningless in the face of language like that, as the majority well
knows. That is why the language is there. The result will be a
judicial distortion of our society’s debate over
marriage—a debate that can seem in need of our clumsy
“help” only to a member of this institution.
As to that debate: Few
public controversies touch an institution so central to the lives
of so many, and few inspire such attendant passion by good people
on all sides. Few public controversies will ever demonstrate so
vividly the beauty of what our Framers gave us, a gift the Court
pawns today to buy its stolen moment in the spotlight: a system of
government that permits us to rule ourselves. Since DOMA’s
passage, citizens on all sides of the question have seen victories
and they have seen defeats. There have been plebiscites,
legislation, persuasion, and loud voices—in other words,
democracy. Victories in one place for some, see North Carolina
Const., Amdt. 1 (providing that “[m]arriage between one man
and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid
or recognized in this State”) (approved by a popular vote,
61% to 39% on May 8, 2012), [
6
] are offset by victories in other places for others, see Maryland
Question 6 (establishing “that Maryland’s civil
marriage laws allow gay and lesbian couples to obtain a civil
marriage license”) (approved by a popular vote, 52% to 48%,
on November 6, 2012). [
7 ]
Even in a sin- gle State, the question has come out differently on
different occasions. Compare Maine Question 1 (permitting
“the State of Maine to issue marriage licenses to same-sex
couples”) (approved by a popular vote, 53% to 47%, on
November 6, 2012) [
8 ] with
Maine Question 1 (rejecting “the new law that lets same-sex
couples marry”) (approved by a popular vote, 53% to 47%, on
November 3, 2009). [
9 ]
In the majority’s
telling, this story is black-and-white: Hate your neighbor or come
along with us. The truth is more complicated. It is hard to admit
that one’s political opponents are not monsters, especially
in a struggle like this one, and the challenge in the end proves
more than today’s Court can handle. Too bad. A reminder that
dis- agreement over something so fundamental as marriage can still
be politically legitimate would have been a fit task for what in
earlier times was called the judicial temperament. We might have
covered ourselves with honor today, by promising all sides of this
debate that it was
theirs to settle and that we would respect their
resolution. We might have let the People decide.
But that the majority
will not do. Some will rejoice in today’s decision, and some
will despair at it; that is the nature of a controversy that
matters so much to so many. But the Court has cheated both sides,
robbing the winners of an honest victory, and the losers of the
peace that comes from a fair defeat. We owed both of them better. I
dissent.