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.