SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
_________________
No. 20–1029
_________________
City of Austin, Texas, PETITIONER
v.
Reagan National Advertising of Austin, LLC, et al.
on writ of certiorari to the united states
court of appeals for the fifth circuit
[April 21, 2022]
Justice Thomas, with whom Justice Gorsuch and
Justice Barrett join, dissenting.
In
Reed v.
Town of Gilbert, 576
U.S. 155 (2015), we held that a speech regulation is content
based—and thus presumptively invalid—if it “draws distinctions
based on the message a speaker conveys.”
Id., at 163. Here,
the city of Austin imposes special restrictions on “off-premise[s]
sign[s],” defined as signs that “advertis[e] a business, person,
activity, goods, products, or services not located on the site
where the sign is installed, or that direc[t] persons to any
location not on that site.” Austin, Tex., City Code §25–10–3(11)
(2016). Under
Reed, Austin’s off-premises restriction is
content based. It discriminates against certain signs based on the
message they convey—
e.g., whether they promote an on- or
off-site event, activity, or service.
The Court nevertheless holds that the
off-premises restriction is content neutral because it proscribes a
sufficiently broad category of communicative content and,
therefore, does not target a specific “topic or subject matter.”
Ante, at 8. This misinterprets
Reed’s clear rule for
content-based restrictions and replaces it with an incoherent and
malleable standard. In so doing, the majority’s reasoning is
reminiscent of this Court’s erroneous decision in
Hill v.
Colorado,
530 U.S.
703 (2000), which upheld a blatantly content-based prohibition
on “counseling” near abortion clinics on the ground that it
discriminated against “an extremely broad category of
communications.”
Id., at 723. Because I would adhere to
Reed rather than echo
Hill’s long-discredited
approach, I respectfully dissent.
I
A
The First Amendment, applicable to the States
through the Fourteenth, prohibits laws “abridging the freedom of
speech.” U. S. Const., Amdt. 1; see also
Stromberg v.
California,
283 U.S.
359, 368 (1931). “When enforcing this prohibition, our
precedents distinguish between content-based and content-neutral
regulations.”
National Institute of Family and Life
Advocates v.
Becerra, 585 U. S. ___, ___ (2018)
(slip op., at 6). A content-based law is “presumptively invalid,”
United States v.
Playboy Entertainment Group,
Inc.,
529 U.S.
803, 817 (2000) (internal quotation marks omitted), and may
generally be upheld only if the government proves that the
regulation is narrowly tailored to serve compelling state
interests,
R. A. V. v.
St. Paul,
505 U.S.
377, 395 (1992).[
1]
In
Reed v.
Town of Gilbert, we
held that courts should identify content-based restrictions by
applying a “commonsense” test: A speech regulation is content based
if it
“target[s] speech based on its communicative
content.” 576 U. S., at 163. Put another way, a law is content
based “ ‘on its face’ [if it] draws distinctions based on the
message a speaker conveys.”
Ibid. While we noted that
“[s]ome facial distinctions based on a message are obvious,” we
emphasized that others could be “more subtle, defining regulated
speech by its function or purpose.”
Ibid. In all events,
whether a law is characterized as targeting a “topic,” “idea,”
“subject matter,” or “communicative content,” the law is content
based if it draws distinctions based in any way “on the message a
speaker conveys.”
Id., at 163–164.[
2]
Applying this standard, we held that the town of
Gilbert’s sign code was “a paradigmatic example of content-based
discrimination” because it classified “various categories of signs
based on the type of information they convey[ed], [and] then
subject[ed] each category to different restrictions.”
Id.,
at 169, 159. For instance, Gilbert defined “ ‘Temporary
Directional Signs’ ” as any sign that “convey[ed] the message
of directing the public to [a] ‘qualifying event,’ ” and
permitted their display for no more than 12 hours before and 1 hour
after the event occurred.
Id., at 164, 161. Meanwhile,
“ ‘Ideological Sign[s],’ ” defined as any sign (not
covered by another category) that “ ‘communicat[ed] a message
or ideas for noncommercial purposes,’ ” were subject to no
temporal limitations.
Id., at 159–160. In short, the
restrictions on any given sign depended “on the communicative
content of the sign.”
Id., at 164. Gilbert’s sign code was
thus facially content based and presumptively unlawful. See
id., at 159.
In contrast to
Reed’s “commonsense” test,
Gilbert urged us to define “content based” as a “term of art that
‘should be applied flexibly’ with the goal of protecting
‘viewpoints and ideas from government censorship or
favoritism.’ ”
Id., at 168. Such a functionalist test,
Gilbert argued, could ferret out illicit government motives while
obviating the need to subject reasonable laws to strict scrutiny.
See
ibid. We rejected Gilbert’s attempt to cast the phrase
“content based” as a “term of art” because “[i]nnocent motives do
not eliminate the danger of censorship presented by a facially
content-based statute.”
Id., at 167. We noted that “one
could easily imagine a Sign Code compliance manager who disliked
[a] Church’s substantive teachings deploying the Sign Code to make
it more difficult for the Church to inform the public of the
location of its services.”
Id., at 167–168. Thus, we
concluded that “a clear and firm rule governing content neutrality
is an essential means of protecting the freedom of speech, even if
laws that might seem entirely reasonable will sometimes be struck
down because of their content-based nature.”
Id., at 171
(internal quotation marks omitted).
We also rejected the Ninth Circuit’s reasoning
that Gilbert’s sign restrictions were content neutral because they
depended on “the content-neutral elements of . . .
whether and when an event is occurring.”
Id., at 169
(internal quotation marks omitted). That is, whether a temporary
directional sign was permissible depended, in part, on its temporal
proximity to a “ ‘qualifying event.’ ”
Id., at
164. This partial dependence on content-neutral elements was
immaterial, we explained, because the restrictions also depended on
the signs’ communicative content. Gilbert officials still had to
examine a sign’s message to determine what type of sign it was, and
this “obvious content-based inquiry d[id] not evade strict scrutiny
simply because an event [was] involved.”
Id., at 170.
B
Under
Reed’s approach for identifying
content-based regulations, Austin’s off-premises sign restriction
is content based. As relevant to this suit, Austin’s sign code
imposes stringent restrictions on a category of “off-premise[s]
sign[s].” §25–10–3(11). The code defines “off-premise[s] sign[s]”
as those “advertising a business, person, activity, goods,
products, or services not located on the site where the sign is
installed,” or as signs “direct[ing] persons to any location not on
that site.”
Ibid. This broad definition sweeps in a wide
swath of signs, from 14- by 48-foot billboards to 24- by 18-inch
yard signs. The sign code prohibits new off-premises signs and
makes it difficult (or impossible) to change existing off-premises
signs, including by digitizing them. See
ante, at 3.
Like the town of Gilbert in
Reed, Austin
has identified a “categor[y] of signs based on the type of
information they convey, [and] then subject[ed that] category to
different restrictions.” 576 U. S., at 159. A sign that
conveys a message about off-premises activities is restricted,
while one that conveys a message about on-premises activities is
not. See
id., at 171 (regulating signs based on “a
particular message” about “the time and location of a specific
event” is content based). And, per
Reed, it does not matter
that Austin’s code “defin[es] regulated speech by its function or
purpose”—
i.e., advertising or directing passersby elsewhere.
Id., at 163. Again, all that matters is that the regulation
“draws distinctions based on” a sign’s “communicative content,”
which the off-premises restriction plainly does.
Ibid.
This conclusion is not undermined because the
off- premises sign restriction depends in part on a content-
neutral element: the location of the sign. Much like in
Reed, that an Austin official applying the sign code must
know
where the sign is does not negate the fact that he also
must know
what the sign says. Take, for instance, a sign
outside a Catholic bookstore. If the sign says, “Visit the Holy
Land,” it is likely an off-premises sign because it conveys a
message directing people elsewhere (unless the name of the
bookstore is “Holy Land Books”). But if the sign instead says, “Buy
More Books,” it is likely a permissible on- premises sign (unless
the sign also contains the address of another bookstore across
town). Finally, suppose the sign says, “Go to Confession.” After
examining the sign’s message, an official would need to inquire
whether a priest ever hears confessions at that location. If one
does, the sign could convey a permissible “on-premises” message. If
not, the sign conveys an impermissible off-premises message.
Because enforcing the sign code in any of these instances “requires
[Austin] officials to determine whether a sign” conveys a
particular message, the sign code is content based under
Reed.
Id., at 170.
In sum, the off-premises rule is content based
and thus invalid unless Austin can satisfy strict scrutiny. See
Playboy Entertainment Group, 529 U. S., at 813. Because
Austin has offered nothing to make that showing, the Court of
Appeals did not err in holding that the off-premises rule violates
the First Amendment.
II
To reach the opposite result, the majority
implicitly rewrites
Reed’s bright-line rule for
content-based restrictions. In the majority’s view, the
off-premises restriction is not content based because it does not
target a specific “topic or subject matter.”
Ante, at 8. The
upshot of the majority’s reasoning appears to be that a regulation
based on a sufficiently general or broad category of communicative
content is not actually content based.
Such a rule not only conflicts with
Reed
and many pre-
Reed precedents but is also incoherent and
unworkable. Tellingly, the only decision that even remotely
supports the majority’s rule is one it does not cite:
Hill
v.
Colorado. There, the Court held that an undeniably
content-based law was nonetheless content neutral because it
discriminated against “an extremely broad category of
communications,” supposedly without regard to “subject matter.” 530
U. S., at 723. The majority’s decision today is erroneous for
the same reasons that
Hill is an aberration in our case
law.
A
The majority concedes that “[t]he message on
the sign matters” when applying Austin’s sign code.
Ante, at
8. That concession should end the inquiry under
Reed. But
the majority nonetheless finds the sign code to be content neutral
by recasting facially content-based restrictions as only those that
target sufficiently specific categories of communicative content
and not as those that depend on communicative content
simpliciter.
For example, while
Reed defined
content-based restrictions as those that “dra[w] distinctions based
on the
message a speaker conveys,” 576 U. S., at 163
(emphasis added), the majority decides that Austin’s sign code is
not content based because it draws no distinctions based on “[a]
sign’s
substantive message,”
ante, at 8 (emphasis
added). Elsewhere, the majority speaks not of “substantive
message[s]” but of “topic[s] or subject matter[s],” which the
majority thinks are sufficiently
specific categories of
communicative content.
Ibid. As a result, the majority
contends that a law targeting directional messages concerning
“events generally, regardless of topic,” would not be content
based, but one targeting “directional messages concerning
specific events” (
e.g., “religious” or “political”
events) would be.
Ante, at 12, n. 6, 8 (emphasis
added).[
3] Regardless of the
label, the majority today excises, without a word of explanation, a
subset of supposedly non-substantive or unspecific messages from
the First Amendment’s protection against content-based
restrictions.
This understanding of content-based restrictions
contravenes
Reed, which held that a law is content based if
it “target[s] speech based on its communicative content”—not
“specific” or “substantive” categories of communicative content.
576 U. S., at 163; see also,
e.g.,
Norton v.
Springfield, 806 F.3d 411, 412 (CA7 2015) (“
Reed
effectively abolishes any distinction between content regulation
and subject-matter regulation. Any law distinguishing one kind of
speech from another by reference to its meaning now requires a
compelling justification”). Only by jettisoning
Reed’s
“commonsense” definition of what it means to be content based can
the majority assert that the off-premises rule is strictly
“location-based” and “agnostic as to content,”
ante, at 6,
even though the law undeniably depends on
both location
and communicative content,
supra, at 5–6.
Moreover, the majority’s suggestion that laws
targeting broad categories of communicative content are not content
based is hard to square with the sign categories that
Reed
invalidated. For instance, we found Gilbert’s expansive definition
of “Ideological Sign[s]” to be content based even though it broadly
covered any “sign communicating a message or ideas for
noncommercial purposes” that did not already fall into one of the
other categories. 576 U. S., at 159 (internal quotation marks
omitted). Nor did we suggest that the outcome in
Reed would
have been different if the sign categories were defined even more
generally.
The majority answers that it is not
“fashion[ing] a novel ‘specificity test,’ ” but instead
“simply” “quoting the standard repeatedly enunciated in
Reed.”
Ante, at 13. The majority finds this alleged
specificity test in a paragraph near the end of
Reed, where
we noted that a law “targeted at specific subject matter is content
based even if it does not discriminate among viewpoints within that
subject matter,” and then affirmed that Gilbert’s sign code
“single[d] out specific subject matter for differential treatment.”
576 U. S., at 169.
These statements never purported to endorse a
specificity test of the sort now suggested by the majority. Read in
context,
Reed’s two references to “specific subject matter”
naturally address laws that target a “subject matter,” however
broadly defined, as opposed to some other subject matter; they did
not refer only to laws targeting some sufficiently “specific”
category of “subject matter.” Moreover, the concept of
“specificity” or “generality” appears nowhere in the part of
Reed that set forth its “commonsense” test for content
neutrality. See
id., at 163–164. If
Reed’s
content-neutrality test turned on specificity, we would have said
so explicitly when stating the test. Finally, even crediting the
majority’s strained reading of
Reed’s passing references to
“specific subject matter,” the paragraph where they appear made
clear that it was describing only “a paradigmatic
example of
content-based discrimination.”
Id., at 169 (emphasis added).
That part of
Reed never professed to announce a
comprehensive rule with respect to all laws targeting speech based
on its communicative content.
Our pre-
Reed precedents likewise
foreclose a construction of “content based” that applies only to
some content. We have held many capacious speech regulations to be
content based, including restrictions on “ ‘advice or
assistance derived from scientific, technical or other specialized
knowledge,’ ”
Holder v.
Humanitarian Law
Project,
561 U.S.
1, 12–13 (2010); “ ‘advertising, promotion, or any
activity . . . used to influence sales or the market
share of a prescription drug,’ ”
Sorrell v.
IMS
Health Inc.,
564 U.S.
552, 559 (2011); “editorializing,”
FCC v.
League of
Women Voters of Cal.,
468 U.S.
364, 382–383, and n. 14 (1984); “ ‘[publication] for
philatelic, numismatic, educational, historical, or newsworthy
purposes,’ ”
Regan v.
Time,
Inc.,
468 U.S.
641, 644 (1984); and “anonymous speech,”
McIntyre v.
Ohio Elections Comm’n,
514 U.S.
334, 348, 357 (1995). These speech categories are no more
“specific” or “substantive” than messages regarding off-premises
activities. And some of these examples, like “editorializing” or
publishing “newsworthy” information, are clearly
less so.
What unites these speech restrictions is that their application
turns “on the nature of the message being conveyed,”
Carey
v.
Brown,
447 U.S.
455, 461 (1980), not whether they regulate specific or general
categories of speech, or whether they address substantive or
non-substantive categories of speech.
We have defined content-based restrictions to
include
all content-based distinctions because any other
rule would be incoherent. After all, off-premises advertising could
be considered a “subject” or a “topic” as those words are
ordinarily used. See
L. D. Management Co. v.
Gray, 988 F.3d 836, 839 (CA6 2021) (off-premises billboard
restriction “turns on the ‘
topic discussed’ ” (emphasis
added)). And, in any event, there is no principled way to decide
whether a category of communicative content is “substantive” or
“specific” enough for the majority to deem it a “topic” or
“subject” worthy of heightened protection. Although off-premises
advertising is a more general category of speech than some
(
e.g., off-premises advertising of religious events), it is
a more specific category than others (
e.g., advertising
generally). The majority offers only its own
ipse dixit to
explain why off-premises advertising is insufficiently specific to
qualify as content based under
Reed. Worse still, the
majority does not explain how courts should draw the line between a
sufficiently substantive or specific content-based classification
and one that is insufficiently substantive or specific.
On this point, Austin suggests there is no need
to worry because our cases provide “guideposts” from which one can
divine what “level of generality” renders a speech regulation
content based. Tr. of Oral Arg. 18, 24. To be sure, that is the
sort of inquiry the majority’s opaque test invites. But
Reed
directed us elsewhere—to the text of the law in question and
whether that law “ ‘on its face’ draws distinctions based on
the message a speaker conveys.” 576 U. S., at 163. The
majority’s holding that some rules based on content are not, as it
turns out, content based nullifies
Reed’s clear test.
B
The majority offers several reasons why its
approach is consistent with
Reed and other cases. None of
these arguments is persuasive. Instead, they only serve to
underscore the Court’s ill-advised departure from our doctrine.
1
The majority first suggests that deeming
Austin’s sign code content based would require us to adopt an
“extreme” reinterpretation of
Reed.
Ante, at 6.
Specifically, the majority faults the Court of Appeals for
concluding that Austin’s regulation was content based because, to
enforce the off-premises rule, “ ‘[a] reader must ask: who is
the speaker and what is the speaker saying’ ”?
Ibid.
(quoting 972 F.3d 696, 706 (CA5 2020)). In the majority’s view,
Reed cannot stand for such a simplistic read-the-sign
test.
The majority’s skepticism is misplaced. We have
often acknowledged that the need to examine the content of a
message is a strong indicator that a speech regulation is content
based. One year before
Reed, for example, we stated that an
abortion clinic buffer-zone law “would be content based if it
required enforcement authorities to examine the content of the
message that is conveyed to determine whether a violation has
occurred.”
McCullen v.
Coakley,
573 U.S.
464, 479 (2014) (internal quotation marks omitted). That
statement was not an outlier. See,
e.g.,
Arkansas
Writers’ Project,
Inc. v.
Ragland,
481 U.S.
221, 230 (1987) (tax exemption for periodicals “uniformly
devoted to religion or sports” was content based because it
required state officials to “examine the content of the message”
(internal quotation marks omitted));
Forsyth County v.
Nationalist Movement,
505 U.S.
123, 134 (1992) (regulation requiring parade organizers to pay
a fee depending on the security costs anticipated for the event was
content based because “[i]n order to assess accurately the cost of
security for parade participants, the administrator must
necessarily examine the content of the message that is conveyed”
(internal quotation marks omitted));
League of Women Voters,
468 U. S., at 366, 383 (law forbidding public broadcasting
stations from “engag[ing] in editorializing” was content based
because it required “enforcement authorities [to] necessarily
examine the content of the message that is conveyed” (internal
quotation marks omitted)).
Ultimately, the majority’s objection to the
Court of Appeals’ reliance on a read-the-sign test is a red
herring; its real objection is to
Reed’s rule that any law
that draws distinctions based on communicative content is content
based.
2
The majority next argues that Austin’s sign
code is content neutral under our precedents. See
ante, at
8–10. But none of the cases the majority cites supports its crabbed
view of what constitutes a content-based restriction.
First, in
Heffron v.
International
Soc. for Krishna Consciousness,
Inc.,
452 U.S.
640 (1981), the Court upheld, as content neutral, an ordinance
providing that the “[s]ale or distribution of any merchandise,
including printed or written material,” could occur only from
certain booths at the fairgrounds.
Id., at 643 (internal
quotation marks omitted). Such a statute is facially content
neutral under
Reed because it does not “ ‘on its face’
dra[w] distinctions based on the message a speaker conveys” when
selling or distributing merchandise subject to the ordinance. 576
U. S., at 163. True, the Court construed the ordinance also to
limit “fund solicitation operations,” 452 U. S., at 644, but
that was not, as the majority claims, a prohibition on “asking for
donations,”
ante, at 9. Rather, anyone was free to “as[k]
for donations” wherever he liked, because the ordinance did “not
prevent respondents from wandering throughout the fairgrounds and
directing interested donors or purchasers to their booth.” 452
U. S., at 664, n. 2 (Blackmun, J., concurring in part and
dissenting in part). Then, once “at the booth,” the donor could
“make a contribution.”
Ibid.
Second, in
Cantwell v.
Connecticut,
310 U.S.
296 (1940), the Court invalidated a licensing system for
religious and charitable solicitation while acknowledging in dicta
that a State could regulate the time, place, and manner of
solicitation.
Id., at 304, 307. But here, we are not faced
with a true time, place, or manner restriction, as even the
majority concedes. See
ante, at 8.[
4] And, in any event,
Cantwell did not suggest
that a content-based restriction could be sustained as a time,
place, or manner restriction; its analysis focused predominantly on
the plaintiff ’s free exercise claim; and the case predated
our modern content-neutrality doctrine by nearly three decades.
Thus, nothing in
Heffron or
Cantwell supports the
majority’s narrow approach to identifying content-based
restrictions.
Finally, the majority argues that we have
“previously understood distinctions between on-premises and
off-premises signs . . . to be content neutral.”
Ante, at 9–10. To be sure, in both
Suffolk Outdoor Adv.
Co. v.
Hulse, 439 U.S. 808 (1978), and
Metromedia,
Inc. v.
San Diego,
453 U.S.
490, 503–512 (1981) (plurality opinion), this Court suggested
that some restrictions on off-premises advertising were
constitutional. And later, in
Members of City Council of Los
Angeles v.
Taxpayers for Vincent,
466 U.S.
789 (1984), the Court described
Metromedia as upholding
“a
content- neutral prohibition against the use of
billboards.” 466 U. S., at 807 (emphasis added). But the
statement in
Vincent was dictum, and, as the majority
concedes, both our summary decision in
Suffolk and the
plurality opinion in
Metromedia sanctioned off-premises
restrictions only insofar as they applied to
commercial
speech.
Ante, at 10. That is, the “Court did not need to
decide”—and did not decide—“whether the off-premises prohibition
was content based” because restrictions on commercial speech are
“subject to intermediate scrutiny in any event.”
Ibid.
3
The majority also claims that finding Austin’s
sign code to be content based “would render the majority opinion in
Reed irreconcilable with” Justice Alito’s
Reed
concurrence.
Ante, at 12, n. 6. In particular, Justice
Alito identified nine different types of sign regulations that he
believed “would not be content based,” including “[r]ules
distinguishing between on-premises and off-premises signs” and
“[r]ules imposing time restrictions on signs advertising a one-time
event.” 576 U. S., at 174–175. The majority evidently believes
that these two types of sign regulations necessarily turn on a
sign’s communicative content, like the off-premises sign
restriction at issue here.
That reading of the
Reed concurrence
makes little sense. First, there is no reason to interpret the
concurrence as referring to off-premises or one-time-event rules
that turn on a sign’s communicative content. Doing so would make
those two rules categorically different from the other seven, none
of which would ever turn on message content. See,
e.g.,
id., at 174 (“Rules distinguishing between lighted and
unlighted signs”). And although off-premises and one-time-event
rules
could be drafted in terms of a sign’s communicative
content, as is true here, they need not be. “There might be many
formulations of an on/off-premises distinction that are
content-neutral.”
Thomas v.
Bright, 937 F.3d 721, 733
(CA6 2019); see also
ante, at 2, n. 1 (Alito, J.,
concurring in judgment in part and dissenting in part) (explaining
that “[i]n ordinary usage” an “off- premises” sign is one that is
not “attached to or located in close proximity to a building”). For
instance, a city could define “ ‘an o[n]-premise[s] sign as
any sign within 500 feet of a building,’ ” 937 F. 3d, at
732, or a sign that is installed by “ ‘a business
. . . licensed to occupy . . . the premises
where the sign is located,’ ” Brief for Summus Outdoor as
Amicus Curiae 10. As for regulations of one-time-event
signs, Austin itself amended its sign code, at the behest of its
lawyers, specifically to make its ordinance content neutral. See
Austin, Tex., City Code §25–10–102(D) (2021); App. 152. Thus,
interpreting Justice Alito’s concurrence as referring to rules that
turn on communicative content, as opposed to rules that are content
neutral, is unwarranted.
Second, it would be strange to interpret the
concurrence as proclaiming that
all off-premises sign
restrictions are content neutral considering the longstanding
dispute over that question. In fact, 20 years before
Reed,
then-Judge Alito opined that there was “no easy answer to [the]
question” whether “exceptions for ‘for sale’ signs and signs
relating to on-site activities” would render a sign code content
based.
Rappa v.
New Castle County,
18 F.3d 1043, 1080 (CA3 1994) (concurring opinion); see also,
e.g.,
Ackerly Communications of Mass.,
Inc. v.
Cambridge,
88 F.3d 33, 36, n. 7 (CA1 1996) (“In ‘commonsense’ terms,
the distinction surely is content-based because determining whether
a sign must stay up or must come down requires consideration of the
message it carries”);
Norton Outdoor Adv.,
Inc. v.
Arlington Heights, 69 Ohio St. 2d 539, 541, 433 N.E.2d
198, 200 (1982) (“In prohibiting all forms of offsite billboard
advertising, the ordinance is thus inescapably directed to the
content of protected speech”). Ultimately, it seems quite unlikely
that Justice Alito’s quick recital of some content-neutral rules
purported to pre-emptively decide an issue that had long perplexed
federal and state courts.
4
Near the end of its analysis, the majority
invokes an allegedly “unbroken tradition of on-/off-premises
distinctions” that it claims “counsels against” faithful
application of
Reed.
Ante, at 12. To be sure, history
and tradition are relevant to identifying and defining those “few
limited areas” where, “[f ]rom 1791 to the present,” “the
First Amendment has permitted restrictions upon the content of
speech.”
Brown v.
Entertainment Merchants Assn.,
564 U.S.
786, 791 (2011) (internal quotation marks omitted); see
supra, at 2, n. 1. But the majority openly admits that
off-premises regulations “were not present [at] the founding.”
Ante, at 12. And while it asserts that “large outdoor
advertisements proliferated in the 1800s,”
ibid., it offers
no evidence of any content-based restrictions from that period, let
alone off-premises restrictions on
noncommercial speech. The
earliest example of an off-premises restriction that the
majority cites arose in
Packer Corp. v.
Utah,
285 U.S.
105 (1932), but that case involved a restriction on
commercial advertising and did not even feature a First
Amendment claim. See
id., at 108–112.
Ultimately, the majority’s only “historical”
support is that regulations like Austin’s “proliferated following
the enactment of the Highway Beautification Act of 1965.”
Ante, at 2. The majority’s suggestion that the First
Amendment should yield to a speech restriction that “proliferated”—
under pressure from the Federal Government—some two centuries after
the founding is both “startling and dangerous.”
United
States v.
Stevens,
559
U.S. 460, 470 (2010). This Court has never hinted that the
government can, with a few decades of regulation, subject “new
categories of speech” to less exacting First Amendment scrutiny.
Id., at 472.
Regardless, even if this allegedly “unbroken
tradition” did not fall short by a century or two, the majority
offers no explanation why historical regulation is relevant to the
question whether the off-premises restriction is content based
under
Reed and our modern content-neutrality jurisprudence.
If Austin had met its burden of identifying a historical tradition
of analogous regulation—as can be done, say, for obscenity or
defamation—that would not make the off-premises rule content
neutral. It might simply mean that the off-premises rule is a
constitutional form of content-based discrimination. But content
neutrality under
Reed is an empirical question, not a
historical one. Thus, the majority’s historical argument is not
only meritless but misguided.
C
Despite asserting that the Court of Appeals’
analysis under
Reed would “contravene numerous precedents,”
ante, at 11, the majority identifies no decision of this
Court supporting the idea that a speech restriction is not content
based so long as it regulates a sufficiently broad or non-
substantive category of communicative content. In fact, there is
only one case that could possibly validate the majority’s aberrant
analysis:
Hill v.
Colorado. That
Hill is the
majority’s only support underscores the danger that today’s
decision poses to the First Amendment.
Hill involved a law that prohibited
persons outside abortion clinics from knowingly approaching within
eight feet of another person without consent “for the purpose of
. . . engaging in oral protest, education, or
counseling.” 530 U. S., at 707 (internal quotation marks
omitted).
Hill concluded, implausibly, that this regulation
was content neutral.
The majority’s reasoning in this case is just as
implausible. The majority asserts that the off-premises rule is not
content based because it does not target a sufficiently “specific”
or “substantive” category of communications.
Ante, at 8.
Hill correspondingly held that restrictions on “protest,
education, or counseling” were not content-based classifications
because they cover “an extremely broad category of communications.”
530 U. S., at 723. The majority also tries to disguise its
redefinition of content neutrality by characterizing Austin’s rule
as a “neutral, location-based” restriction.
Ante, at 6. So
too did
Hill try to conceal its doctrinal innovation by
characterizing the buffer-zone law as a neutral “place
restriction.” 530 U. S., at 723. Finally, the majority finds
it immaterial that Austin’s rule can be enforced only by “reading a
[sign] to determine whether it” contains an off-premises message.
Ante, at 8.
Hill likewise found it irrelevant that
“the content of the oral statements” would need to “be examined to
determine whether” the prohibition applied. 530 U. S., at
720.
The parallel between the majority’s opinion and
Hill should be discomforting given that
Hill
represented “an unprecedented departure” from this Court’s First
Amendment jurisprudence.
Id., at 772 (Kennedy, J.,
dissenting). Its content-neutrality analysis was, as Justice Scalia
explained, “absurd” given that the buffer-zone law was “obviously
and undeniably content based.”
Id., at 742–743 (dissenting
opinion). First Amendment scholars from across the ideological
spectrum agree. See,
e.g., M. McConnell, Professor Michael
W. McConnell’s Response, in K. Sullivan, Sex, Money, and Groups:
Free Speech and Association Decisions in the October 1999 Term, 28
Pepperdine L. Rev. 723, 748 (2001) (“The Court said that this
statute is content-neutral. I just literally cannot see how they
could possibly come to that conclusion”); Colloquium,
id.,
at 750 (Laurence Tribe stating
Hill “was slam-dunk simple
and slam-dunk wrong”); R. Fallon, Strict Judicial Scrutiny, 54 UCLA
L. Rev. 1267, 1298, and n. 174 (2007) (
Hill
“unconvincingly . . . maintain[ed] that a content-based
restriction on speech [was] not really content-based”). And, since
Hill, this Court has all but interred its flawed
content-neutrality analysis in both
McCullen, see
supra, at 11, and
Reed. See
Price v.
Chicago, 915 F.3d 1107, 1118 (CA7 2019) (“In the wake of
McCullen and
Reed, it’s not too strong to say that
what
Hill explicitly rejected is now prevailing law”).
The majority’s refusal to acknowledge
Hill simply underscores the decision’s defunct status.
Again,
Hill is the only case that could support the
majority’s ill-conceived content-neutrality analysis, and yet the
majority disclaims reliance on it. Lower courts should take the
majority’s disclaimer at face value:
Hill is “a decision
that we do not cite.”
Ante, at 13. And today’s decision
amounts to little more than an ad hoc exemption for the
“location-based” and supposedly “content-agnostic on-/off-premises
distinction.”
Ibid.
Even so, the majority’s approach should offer
little comfort because arbitrary carveouts from
Reed
undermine the “clear and firm rule governing content neutrality”
that we understood to be “an essential means of protecting the
freedom of speech.” 576 U. S., at 171. The majority’s
deviation from that “clear and firm rule” poses two serious threats
to the First Amendment’s protections.
First, transforming
Reed’s clear
definition of “content based regulation” back into an opaque and
malleable “term of art” turns the concept of content neutrality
into a “vehicl[e] for the implementation of individual judges’
policy preferences.”
Tennessee v.
Lane,
541 U.S.
509, 556 (2004) (Scalia, J., dissenting).
Hill
exemplifies this danger. See 530 U. S., at 742 (Scalia, J.,
dissenting) (“I have no doubt that this regulation would be deemed
content based
in an instant if the case before us involved
antiwar protesters, or union members seeking to ‘educate’ the
public about the reasons for their strike”). The majority’s
approach in this case is cut from the same cloth. As the majority
transparently admits, it seeks to “apply [our] precedents to reach
the ‘commonsense’
result” and avoid what it perceives as a
“bizarre
result.”
Ante, at 13 (emphasis added). But
Reed mandates a “commonsense” test for content neutrality
even if the
result is that “laws that might seem entirely
reasonable will sometimes be struck down.” 576 U. S., at 163,
171 (internal quotation marks omitted).
Second, sanctioning certain content-based
classifications but not others ignores that even seemingly
reasonable content-based restrictions are ready tools for those who
would “suppress disfavored speech.”
Id., at 167; see also
Hill, 530 U. S., at 743 (Scalia, J., dissenting)
(“ ‘The vice of content-based legislation . . . is
not that it is always used for invidious, thought-control purposes,
but that it lends itself to use for those purposes’ ”). This
is because “the responsibility for distinguishing between”
permissible and impermissible content “carries with it the
potential for invidious discrimination of disfavored subjects.”
Cincinnati v.
Discovery Network,
Inc.,
507 U.S.
410, 423–424, n. 19 (1993). That danger only grows when
the content-based distinctions are “by no means clear,” giving more
leeway for government officials to punish disfavored speakers and
ideas.
Ibid.
The content-based distinction drawn by Austin’s
off-premises speech restriction is “by no means clear,”
ibid., and plainly lends itself “to suppress[ing] disfavored
speech,”
Reed, 576 U. S., at 167. As the Court of
Appeals noted, Austin’s “prepared counsel” “struggled to answer
whether” signs conveying messages like “ ‘God Loves
You,’ ” “ ‘Vote for Kathy,’ ” or “ ‘Sally makes
quilts here and sells them at 3200 Main Street’ ” would be
regulated as off- premises signs. 972 F. 3d, at 706. Before
us, Austin’s counsel had similar difficulties, and
amici
have proposed dozens of religious and political messages that would
be next to impossible to categorize under Austin’s rule. See,
e.g., Brief for Alliance Defending Freedom et. al. as
Amici Curiae 15–19; Brief for Institute for Justice as
Amicus Curiae 3–9. These pervasive ambiguities offer
enforcement officials ample opportunity to suppress disfavored
views. And they underscore
Reed’s warning that “[i]nnocent
motives do not eliminate the danger of censorship presented by a
facially content-based statute.” 576 U. S., at 167.
* * *
Because
Reed provided a clear and
neutral rule that protected the freedom of speech from governmental
caprice and viewpoint discrimination, I would adhere to that
precedent rather than risk resuscitating
Hill. I
respectfully dissent.