STARE DECISIS, SHMARE DECISIS : WHY THE SUPREME COURT'S RECENT CORPORATE ELECTION SPENDING CASE IS ALL WRONG

AN ESSAY

PART 2

Yesterday I wrote to explain how the Supreme Court erred in its recent decision granting corporations unlimited freedom to make "independent expenditures" that advocate for Federal election candidates: Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, 558 U.S. __(2010)(slip op.). I confined my analysis to the assertion that Congress had good reason to restrict corporations' ability to distort public debate by buying up all the airtime around elections. See, e.g., 2 U.S.C. § 441(b). I noted that according full First Amendment protection to corporations makes it difficult for individuals to voice their First Amendment rights. I also lamented the Court's decision to overrule an earlier case that concluded the same things: Austin v. Michigan Chamber of Commerce, 494 U.S. 652 (1990).

Today I continue my analysis on a new point: The Court's utterly hypocritical "commitment" to the legal doctrine "stare decisis." In my view, the Court overrules prior cases when its membership changes, not because monumental social changes render prior decisions "unworkable" or "anachronistic." Citizens United affirms my cynicism on this issue: The fact that both men (Republicans) who voted against Austin in 1990 now vote to overrule it in 2010 says it clearly enough. This is not about policy. It is about politics.

Stare decisis is a judicial custom in common law countries like Great Britain and the United States. In Latin, it means "stand by the decision." Its technical legal meaning does not differ much. It admonishes judges to decide cases according to principles announced in similar past cases. When an older case provides an answer to a question, stare decisis obligates judges to provide the same answer in a case raising the same question. In practice, stare decisis reinforces respect for the judicial system because it informs citizens how judges will rule in particular circumstances. It also reinforces respect for the so-called "rule of law" in society: The idea that power flows from neutral legal principles, not men's individual caprice.

Yet everyone agrees that stare decisis is not the right policy in every circumstance. It makes no sense to follow ancient cases to resolve modern dilemmas. After all, if judges strictly observed stare decisis in every case, we would still live under cases like Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 U.S. 537 (1896), the infamous decision that permitted legal racial segregation in 1896. Everyone knows that Brown v. Board of Education, 347 U.S. 483 (1954), overruled Plessy in 1954. The Supreme Court refused to follow stare decisis in that case; and for good reason. Plessy did not make sense any more. It could not be reconciled with constitutional liberty and equality principles. And society had changed in fundamental ways between 1896 and 1954. Those considerations all warranted abandoning stare decisis to overrule the past decision: By 1954, Plessy had degenerated into a pernicious historical "anachronism."

But the Court wanders into extremely dangerous territory when it overrules cases on less compelling grounds. Stare decisis is the rule, not the exception. And when the Supreme Court overrules cases every few years simply because its membership changes, it inflicts the damage that stare decisis is intended to avoid: The cynical public perception that the Court is not committed to law and constitutional principle, but rather to politics and raw power.

Politics and raw power certainly won the day in Citizens United. I have long been cynical about the Supreme Court and its increasingly mordant, political tone. I have long known that its current conservative majority will not "stand by decisions" it does not like. Yet it will certainly "stand by decisions" that match its political colors. That is why it does not surprise me that it lightly overruled Austin on the corporate election funding question, even though people do not view that question much differently today than they did in 1990. If anything, the reasons that justified Austin's hostility toward corporate political power are more compelling today than they were then.

Justice Kennedy knows this all too well. After all, none other than Justice Kennedy sang a sweeping ode to stare decisis just eighteen years ago in the case that saved abortion rights: Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833 (1992). It was Justice Kennedy who signed on to this formula for stare decisis: "[W]hen this Court reexamines a prior holding, its judgment is customarily informed by a series of prudential and pragmatic considerations designed to test the consistency of overruling a prior decision with the ideal of the rule of law, and to gauge the respective costs of reaffirming and overruling a prior case." Id. at 854-855. Sounds like he takes stare decisis pretty seriously, doesn't it?

You have no idea how seriously. Justice Kennedy even approved four detailed factors to determine whether it would "undermine the rule of law" to overrule a prior constitutional case: "[W]e may ask whether (1) the rule has proved intolerable simply in defying practical workability, whether (2) the rule is subject to a kind of reliance that would lend a special hardship to the consequences of overruling and add inequity to the cost of repudiation, whether (3) related principles of law have so far developed as to have left the old rule no more than a remnant of abandoned doctrine, or whether (4) facts have so changed or come to be seen so differently, as to have robbed the old rule of significant application or justification." Casey, 505 U.S. 833, 855 (enumeration and emphasis added).

In Casey, the Court spent many painstaking pages applying the four stare decisis factors. Justice Kennedy joined the analysis in full. He thought it would "undermine the rule of law" to overrule Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 110 (1973), just nineteen years after the Court decided it. In sum, Justice Kennedy doggedly defended stare decisis in Casey. He voted to "stand by" the decision.

But where was that doggedness in Citizens United? And what happened to the delicate, detailed stare decisis factors that guided Justice Kennedy's analysis in Casey? They are nowhere to be found. Rather, Justice Kennedy employs a much more nebulous stare decisis test in Citizens United: "Beyond workability, the relevant factors in deciding whether to adhere to the principle of stare decisis include the antiquity of the precedent, the reliance interests at stake, and of course whether the decision was well reasoned." Citizens United, 558 U.S. __ (slip op. at 47)(emphasis added).

What the hell does "well reasoned" mean? What possible objective guidance does that factor provide? It is no surprise that the Court in Casey did not employ a "well reasoned" test in deciding whether to overrule Roe v. Wade. If it had, it would have merely invited the Justices to import their own political sensibilities to determine whether to overrule it. Yet that is Justice Kennedy's test in deciding whether to overrule a 20-year-old precedent about the integrity of American democracy. And with a standard like "well reasoned," you know how it came out.

I find it significant that Justice Kennedy changed his own standards to overrule Austin. After all, if he had applied the painstaking stare decisis factors he endorsed in Casey, he would not have reached the same conclusion. In Austin, the Court held that restrictions on corporate "independent expenditures" advocating Federal candidates were justified in order to curb "corruption and the appearance of corruption," as well as to curtail the disproportionate influence that "immense aggregations of wealth" wield upon the American political process. Austin, 494 U.S. 659-660.

Under the Casey standard for stare decisis, I do not see how this rule has become "unworkable." For generations now, corporations have learned to cope with campaign financing restrictions. They know they have to create "political action committees" in order to advertise for candidates they like. This satisfies Casey's "practical workability" factor.

Second, the American public has placed reliance on Austin's rule. Americans understand that corporations project enormous power in government; and most Americans rightly worry that corporations' financial advantages grant them unfair political leverage. Congress' corporate campaign funding restrictions assured the American people that the law acts to "prevent corruption" in the political process and to curtail the "corrosive" effects of "immense aggregations of wealth" on elections. In this sense, Austin's rule satisfies Casey's "reliance" factor.

Third, the law has not substantially changed on the corporate political speech question since 1990. Not much can happen in constitutional law over such a short period. Constitutional developments take decades. Historically, they coincide with social upheaval. Social changes in American society rewrote the law when the Court overruled Plessy v. Ferguson in 1954. Sixty years, two world wars, a Depression and an atomic bomb had intervened to completely change the way Americans viewed the world. Against that backdrop, it is not surprising that the Court changed the law to keep up.

It is facetious to argue that such monumental social and legal changes have occurred in American society since 1990. In fact, Americans expect government to act against corporate overreaching. By overruling Austin's rule on this point, the Court completely ignores Casey's third factor concerning "fundamental legal change." That is why Justice Kennedy did not even mention this factor in his opinion. See Citizens United, 558 U.S. __(2010)(slip op. at 47).

Fourth, all the facts that supported Austin remain as true today as they did in 1990. Austin posited that restrictions on corporate speech were necessary to prevent corruption and unfairness in the American political process engendered by "massive aggregations of corporate wealth." Those facts formed the basis for the decision. Congress proceeded on those facts when it enacted the corporate campaign finance law.

If anything, those facts are even more true today. There is a rampant public perception that corporate wealth skews political transparency. Cynicism dominates rhetoric about corporate interference in politics. Austin fulfilled Casey's fourth factor on this point: Facts about corporate political spending have not "so changed or become so different as to have robbed [Austin's] rule of significant application or justification." Casey, 505 U.S. 833, 855. Put succinctly, those facts have not changed at all.

Again, it is hardly surprising that Justice Kennedy did not list the "factual change" factor in his Citizens United analysis. Instead, he merely invents a new standard: Whether the prior case was "well reasoned." See Citizens United, 558 U.S. __(2010)(slip op. 47). After all, if he had applied his own test from 1992, he could not in good faith have argued that "facts about corporate influence on politics" have significantly changed in twenty years. So he just ignored what he said in 1992 and made up something else.

See how easy it is to be a Supreme Court justice? You don't even have to stick to what you said before. You can just make things up as you go--as long as you get five votes on it.

But this is all very sad. After all, stare decisis exists to preserve public faith in our Judiciary. If the public sees--as it must now--that the Court willingly discards recent precedent simply because Republicans have more seats than Democrats, it will conclude that the Court is no better than Congress. Yet the Court is supposed to be our "independent branch," an erudite institution that rules on lasting constitutional principle, not casual politics. When the Court coarsely disregards recent precedent--especially on explosive political issues like election control--it sullies itself in ways that are difficult to repair. When the Court acts like this, it invites the same dismissive cynicism that the public usually reserves for elected officials. Principle means nothing. The Court just devolves into another political battleground.

And shame on Justice Kennedy. His hypocrisy has reached epic levels. He does not even apply his own lofty rhetoric about stare decisis. Rather, he abandons it the moment he encounters a case with which he "disagrees." He dissented in Austin twenty years ago. Then he joined an opinion that passionately defended stare decisis two years later. On that basis, one might think he would think twice about lightly overruling recent cases. But instead he overruled Austin without even using the grandiose stare decisis test he so forcefully advocated in Casey. This time, he did not even spend three pages dismissing stare decisis.

He really must not have liked Austin.

Apparently, our Constitution now functions according to a new test: Whether Justice Kennedy likes a case. Thankfully for him, he has four guys who will stand with him in most situations. And all you need is five.

CITIZENS UNITED v. FEC : WHY THE SUPREME COURT'S RECENT CORPORATE ELECTION SPENDING CASE IS ALL WRONG

AN ESSAY

PART 1

Perhaps against my better judgment, I passed several hours this weekend working through the Supreme Court's recent campaign spending case: Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, 558 U.S. __(2010)(slip op.). In brief, the case invalidates a Congressional Act that restricts corporations from making "independent expenditures" or issuing "electioneering communications" that expressly "advocate the election or defeat of a particular Federal candidate" within 30 days of a Federal election. 2 U.S.C. §§ 441(b), 434(f)(3)(A). The Court said that the Act violated "all corporations' right to political speech" under the First Amendment. In the process, the Court overruled a 20-year old precedent that upheld the same law on the State level: Austin v. Michigan Chamber of Commerce, 494 U.S. 652 (1990).

I reacted with surprise when I learned what the Court had done. After all, it made perfect sense to me why Congress would want to restrict corporations' ability to spend money advocating particular Federal candidates: To prevent massive, wealthy businesses from deluging the public with their views, foreclosing fair debate in an election. Money buys influence. Even if corporations do not use money to literally "buy off" a candidate, they can easily use it to buy up all the airtime and essentially tilt the playing field to favor candidates they like--namely, guys who support corporations and their agendas.

In 1990, the Supreme Court said as much. In Austin v. Michigan Chamber of Commerce, 494 U.S. 652 (1990), the Court--speaking through a 6-3 majority--concluded that restrictions on corporate "independent expenditures" during elections did not violate the First Amendment. True, such restrictions impacted corporations' "freedom to speak." But the Court found the State's interest in preventing "the corrosive and distorting effects of immense aggregations of wealth that are accumulated with the help of the corporate form" justified restrictions on corporate political speech. Id. at 660. The Court further reasoned that a State could restrict corporate spending on elections in order to curb "corruption or the appearance of corruption." Id. at 659.

In other words, the Court recognized in 1990 that corporations hold disproportionate political influence in America because they have so much more money than individual voters. That was true 20 years ago. It is even more true today. Corporations are getting bigger and bigger. Traditional competitors merge with each other. Their treasuries grow. And they can use that money to dominate the airwaves before elections in ways that individuals cannot.

But now the Court overrules Austin. Writing for the new conservative majority, Justice Anthony Kennedy called Austin "poorly reasoned," even though six justices voted for it just 20 years ago. So I guess that means a case is "poorly reasoned" when it tells the truth about corporations. It is no accident that Kennedy did not vote for Austin back in 1990. Today he gets his revenge, thanks in large part to right-wing help from Bush appointees Clarence Thomas, John G. Roberts and Samuel A. Alito. Those guys weren't around in 1990. Now they're calling the constitutional shots: They think Austin was "poorly reasoned," so they overruled it.

Why did they think Austin was "poorly reasoned?" After all, doesn't it seem obvious that Congress should take steps to prevent massive corporations from dominating news cycles at election time? I think so. But I'm not on the Supreme Court.

Much to my amazement, the conservatives actually phrase the debate in "liberty" terms. They think that corporations are exactly the same as private individuals when it comes to First Amendment rights. Applying that legal fiction, they think that corporations--like individual guys on soapboxes--have the right to unlimited free speech. And they are outraged that "poor little corporations" might face criminal prosecution under the law if they spend money supporting a Federal candidate before an election.

To be clear, the Federal law in this case does not bar corporations from spending money on elections. It merely requires them to set up separate entities for political purposes--so-called "Political Action Committees" (PACs). If a corporation wants to spend money advocating for a candidate, it has to spend through the PAC, and the PAC must report its funding sources. This allows the public to see who is paying for the corporate messages. PACs must also keep a treasurer and records. Yes, corporations have to endure some bureaucracy before exercising their First Amendment rights under the law. But it is not as if they cannot speak: They must merely follow a few more administrative steps than private individuals.

Yet the conservatives scream bloody murder about these administrative steps. How unjust and unfair, they say, that corporations must form new entities and pay some paperwork expenses in order to influence Federal elections! Justice Kennedy paints a doomsday scenario in which he claims that "poor little corporations" cannot afford to comply with these "administrative steps" prior to speaking on an election. He says nothing about the mammoth corporations that have the time and resources to comply with the law. No, it's all about the "little corporations--" the poor, wronged little corporations and small family businesses.

In truth, it is extremely easy for small businesses to circumvent the law here. Assuming that small businesses even have the capital needed to advertise for major Federal elections, they could avoid problems with the law merely by creating a PAC or by speaking as individuals. The law only applies to corporations, so a "little" corporation could sidestep it by refraining from speaking as a corporation. If a "little" corporation only has two members, they could speak as individuals "with connections to small business." They do not need a PAC. They still have their individual First Amendment rights. When the law involves fictions like "corporate people," it is easy to be imaginative in thwarting those fictions.

In this light, it is foolish for the conservatives to crusade for the "poor, wronged little corporations." By standing up for the "little corporations" in Citizens United, they actually abolished restrictions on the big corporations--and they were the ones who caused the problem in the first place. They threw the baby out with the bathwater. But that was probably what they intended all along.

And what glib reasoning the Court used to reach its corporate-friendly conclusions. While I might find it obvious that "immense aggregations of corporate wealth" have a "corrosive and distorting influence" on Federal elections, the Court resolved that quandary easily enough. On this point, Justice Kennedy merely says: "We conclude that independent expenditures made by corporations do not give rise to corruption or the appearance of corruption." Citizens United, 558 U.S. __ (2010)(slip. op. at p. 42).

Oh, all right. I'll just take your word for it. When I see a corporation funneling $140 million to advocate a Republican candidate for Senate, I won't assume any corruption. Corporations, after all, are selfless and would never do anything underhanded.

Let us even imagine that corruption--or the appearance of corruption--does not flow from corporate expenditures on behalf of a candidate. Even then, the fact that a corporation spends massive amounts to elect a corporate-friendly candidate creates popular perception that the corporation "bought" the candidate.

But Justice Kennedy resolves this issue easily enough: "The appearance of influence or access, furthermore, will not cause the electorate to lose faith in our democracy." Citizens United, 558 U.S. __(2010)(slip op. at 44).

Of course not, Justice Kennedy. How could I lose faith in our democracy when major corporations outspend their ideological opponents by millions to get pro-business Senators, Representatives and Presidents elected? How could I lose faith in our democracy when major corporations buy up all the airtime to get their guys in office? After all, I have to respect corporations' First Amendment rights, too, don't I?

According to Justice Kennedy, indeed I do--even if respecting a corporation's First Amendment rights makes it almost impossible to effectively exercise my own.

At this point, we begin to see the real problem with the conservatives' philosophy about corporate free speech rights. After all, when a powerful person--or a powerful group--exercises his free speech rights, he makes it more difficult for less powerful individuals to voice theirs. It is elementary that money translates into political influence. People with more money can speak more loudly on issues than those with less. By definition, corporations have far more money than even powerful private individuals.

Under this reasoning, it is easy to see how corporations can drown out debate simply by exercising their First Amendment rights. They can overwhelm private opposition by spending massive sums on ubiquitous advertising. That is the "corrosive and distorting influence" that the Court described in Austin. And corporate power to exert "corrosive and distorting influence" is the reason why Congress imposed limitations on the their ability to exercise their speech rights in the first place. Put simply, when corporations exercise their speech rights, they make it progressively more difficult for individuals to exercise theirs.

That is the real meaning of the conservative "corporate liberty" argument: By freeing corporations to speak, everyone else has to shut up and listen to them. In my view, that is not what the First Amendment is about. The First Amendment is about individual rights, not corporate rights. If corporate free speech rights make it difficult for individual free speech rights to survive, I have little problem regulating corporate free speech rights.

But Justice Kennedy does not acknowledge any of this. He does not see the obvious--and disturbing--practical implications behind his reasoning. Rather, he seems to dwell in some ethereal place in which corporate liberty is the same as individual liberty. As such, he sees the corporation as the victim. He even ascribes wisdom to corporations, as if corporate speech could actually enlighten the population: "Corporations do not have monolithic views. On certain topics, they may possess valuable expertise, leaving them best equipped to point out errors and fallacies in speech of all sorts, including the speech of candidates and elected officials." Citizens United, 558 U.S. __(2010)(slip. op. at 48-49).

Contrary to this rhetoric, corporations do have monolithic views on many issues. When it comes to profitability and shareholder enrichment, all corporations are the same: They want to make as much money as possible. That is a "monolithic view." In that sense, corporations will always say the same thing: Namely, whatever will benefit the corporation in the circumstances. In political speech, that means a corporation will always say things to support candidates who will make them richer. Given that, it is ridiculous to think that corporations will somehow "enlighten the public" with their "diverse viewpoints" on life. Corporate political speech is all the same: It is calculated to get people elected who will make them richer. End of story, Justice Kennedy.

In sum, this case disgusts me. I have other objections about it that I will raise in a later post. But for now, it is enough for me to say that the conservatives' view about "corporate liberty" eviscerates the First Amendment's focus on individual expression. Congress understood that corporations had to cede some expressive liberty in order to protect everyone else's relative ability to engage in political speech. Now that the Court has abolished those restrictions, it has opened the door to even greater corporate control over government.

Corporate control over government was already bad before this case. Now it will get even worse. As I suggested in a satire a while back, we might as well just rename the country the "United States of America, Inc." because that's exactly where we're headed. Or maybe we're already there.

INTENT AND THE FIRST AMENDMENT : POLICING THE IMPOSSIBLE

AN ESSAY

Over the last few weeks, I've had the chance to read some Supreme Court cases. I always keep a long list of cases I want to read. I have not had much time to write as much as I'd like lately, so I've taken the chance to read a few. That's not to say that Supreme Court cases freshen my outlook. To the contrary, they often confirm my overriding belief that the Supreme Court is full of shit. As a satirist, I need to see foolishness at work in order to properly mock it. Both sadly and thankfully, the Supreme Court keeps me well-stocked with preposterous arguments, as well as unabashed ideology masquerading as neutral legal principle.

If I had to choose an area of constitutional law that interests me the most, I would choose the First Amendment. The First Amendment is the soul and conscience of the Constitution. It is the intellectual nucleus of our liberal republic. Although the Framers may have conceived it very differently than the way we understand it today, it is a beacon of individual hope in an otherwise dully administrative document. The First Amendment protects the individual freedom to speak, write, think and express ourselves as the people we are. It forbids government from punishing us because we hold beliefs or profess religions. It also guarantees a free press, ensuring that--at least in theory--every voice has a forum to be heard. While that may not technically be true in an age when money translates into the power to circulate messages, it at least espouses a strongly positive ideal: That all voices have worth, no matter how much the majority rejects them.

These are metaphysically good principles in which anyone can believe. In fact, they are so good that both American patriots in the 18th Century and revolutionaries in later times died for them. Without the First Amendment or something like it, we could not truly say what we mean in life. And when we cannot say what we mean, we cannot be who we are. In that sense, the First Amendment is all about individuality. That is inspiring. That is why I like studying it. It is not just about property and penalties. It is about ideas and expression. There are not many legal areas that impact such profoundly philosophical questions. I like profundity more than banality.

But there is a sharp distinction between First Amendment theory and Supreme Court practice. For better or worse, nine men and women have the sole authority to determine whether government violates First Amendment principles in individual cases. In these clashes between the individual and government, the Court sometimes favors liberty. At other times, it permits government to stamp out individual self-expression. Supreme Court justices say they "rule according to the law." But in First Amendment cases--as in virtually all hotly-debated constitutional areas--the justices barely mask their own political and ideological leanings. They use law merely as a cloak to justify deeply biased political conclusions. Behind all the technical analysis and supposed detachment (many justices abandon detachment altogether) stands stark, flawed humanity. Despite their pedigrees, resumes and degrees, justices are human beings. And human beings are woefully imperfect.

When it comes to the First Amendment, the justices' personal values influence everything they do. If they do not like certain messages, they will find a way to voice hostility toward them. This takes some artifice, of course, because the Constitution forbids government from suppressing speech "solely because it disapproves of the content." But the Court has fashioned doctrines to outmaneuver this result. It allows government to target speech if it artificially regulates the "time, place and manner" in which the speech occurs. So if a city wants to stop communists from speaking, it can say they can only hold a parade on Tuesday at 3 AM in some uninhabited back alley. Obviously, government does not like communist messages. Although it cannot literally ban communism as "content," it can achieve the same result by targeting the "time, place and manner" of communist speech. In this way, the Supreme Court allows government to cloak its own hostility toward certain ideas by phrasing its disapproval in more "neutral ways." The result is often the same: Government does not like certain speech and successfully suppresses it.

Our Supreme Court has burrowed deeply into the First Amendment. The freedom to express individual ideas carries so many exceptions that it is now almost an illusory right. Without going into exhaustive detail, government can suppress speech not only because it occurs in "inappropriate places (ie, schools)," at "inappropriate times (ie, late at night)" or in an "inappropriate manner (ie, too loud)," but also because the speech itself is categorically "obscene," "defamatory," "inciting," or "reasonably likely to lead an average person to come to blows with another." The burden lies on the government to establish that the "dangerous speech" falls into one of these categories, but the Court has been surprisingly accommodating toward government over the years. In fact, it has been so accommodating that it has permitted government to regulate speech even beyond the "traditionally unacceptable categories."

Renton v. Playtime Theaters, 475 U.S. 41 (1986), provides a ready example. That case involved a municipal effort to crack down on porn shops. It was clear that the city simply did not like porn, even though porn is technically "speech" under the First Amendment. So the city enacted zoning laws that forced porn shops into run-down industrial neighborhoods. The law treated porn shops differently solely because they engaged in the porn business; in other words, their speech made them targets. But the Court did not call this "impermissible content regulation." Rather, it fashioned a new exception to the First Amendment: the "secondary effects doctrine." Through this sleight of constitutional hand, the Court proclaimed that government does not violate the First Amendment if it merely wishes to regulate the "effects of speech on the community," rather than the "speech itself." Under this approach, the city in Renton just had to say it enacted the law because it wanted to keep crime down and property values up. Then it said that porn "speech" caused crime to rise and property values to sink. The Court validated the restriction and the porn shops had to move.

In 2002, the Court revisited Renton in City of Los Angeles v. Alameda Books, Inc., 535 U.S. 425 (2002). There, the city enacted an ordinance forbidding more than one "adult business" from operating in the same building. No other business was subject to the restriction. The city said it enacted the ordinance because it wanted to control the "secondary effects" of "multiple adult businesses" in the same vicinity. It invoked the earlier Renton case for support, even though it had no real evidence to show that splitting up two related porn shops in the same building would reduce crime or boost property values. The Court was satisfied with a cursory 1977 study that anecdotally linked porn shops with higher crime rates, even though that study predated the ordinance by more than a decade. In sum, the Court had no problem sustaining a clearly speech-prohibitive, discriminatory law by invoking a doctrine it invented only sixteen years earlier.

In my view, this shows the Court's great willingness to ignore the First Amendment when its members do not like the speech at issue. Obviously Chief Justice Rehnquist and Sandra Day O'Connor did not like porn shops...just look at them:


As much as the majority in Alameda Books may have believed that "constitutional jurisprudence" dictated their conclusion in the case, I venture that it was simply a value judgment. Republicans (all five justices in the majority here were Republicans) don't like porn--well, at least publicly they say they don't. Those values influenced their decision whether to allow government to regulate it. After all, the law in Alameda Books specifically targeted only porn shops. The regulation turned upon the content of the speech. Although that seems to violate the First Amendment's ban on "content regulation," the Republicans found a way to sidestep that result. How? Simple: Values. When a justice doesn't like speech, he or she will find a "legal exception" to suppress it. That's the problem with law.

But there is more to the story. Justice Kennedy issued a bizarre concurrence in Alameda Books that brings another troublesome issue to the fore: Legislative intent. Kennedy--also a Republican, but a grandiose one with a penchant for self-righteous oratory (he's Catholic, too)--said he was "troubled" by the liberal argument that the statute in the case targeted porn shops "solely because of their speech." So he quieted himself by reasoning that a city could rely on the "secondary effects doctrine" as long as it did not "proportionally affect speech." In Kennedy's view, the law in Alameda Books was sound because it had an effect on bad "secondary effects" (good) without affecting the "quantity of speech" (bad) in equal measure. Put another way, because the legislature only specifically targeted "secondary effects" and allowed porn shops to open under separate roofs, it reasonably lowered "secondary effects" without "completely muzzling their expression."

This is a fanciful distinction. In essence, it appears that Justice Kennedy believes that a legislature's stated intent suffices to determine whether it has adopted a "content-specific" speech regulation. Here, it seems obvious that the Los Angeles city council did not like porn shops because they engage in "porn speech." It offended the councilmen's values. They simply did not like the speech. But they escaped constitutional consequence because they said they were concerned about "secondary effects," not the "speech itself." The statute visibly discriminated against porn shops based on their speech, yet Justice Kennedy said that was fine because the legislature had the right intent.

It defies belief to say that a city would not "reduce the quantity of certain speech" if its regulations drive its speakers from the marketplace. Why else would the city want to close down porn shops if it did not like what they were saying? It is too easy to mouth the words "secondary effects" when in fact the legislature flat-out doesn't like porn.

These are important questions because speech regulations are dangerous. When government succeeds in suppressing speech, it gains precedential authority to suppress even more. When the Supreme Court simply goes along with the program, our rights as individuals steadily decline. True, no one wants to crusade for a porn shop's right to sell smut. But the First Amendment does not distinguish between right and wrong speech. If it is speech, we presumptively protect it. Individual freedom depends upon the freedom to express ourselves. And when the Supreme Court slowly allows government to bar us from speaking in certain ways, our liberty slowly suffocates, too.

In short, Supreme Court justices should defer to the individual interest in self-expression in doubtful cases, not the value-laden judgments of local governments. If it allows government to regulate speech content merely by proffering a flimsy "secondary effects" justification, it will not take long to dismantle the First Amendment. If there is one constitutional guarantee that we must defend, it is the guarantee that government will presumptively not regulate the substance of our thoughts and expressions, no matter how unpopular they may be.