A Matter of Interpretation: Federal Courts and the Law (The University Center for Human Values Series)

In exploring the neglected art of statutory interpretation, Scalia urges that judges resist the temptation to use legislative intention and legislative history. In his view, it is incompatible with democratic government to allow the meaning of a statute to be determined by what the judges think the lawgivers meant rather than by what the legislature actually promulgated. Eschewing the judicial lawmaking that is the essence of common law, judges should interpret statutes and regulations by focusing on the text itself. Scalia then extends this principle to constitutional law. He proposes that we abandon the notion of an everchanging Constitution and pay attention to the Constitution's original meaning. Although not subscribing to the "strict constructionism" that would prevent applying the Constitution to modern circumstances, Scalia emphatically rejects the idea that judges can properly "smuggle" in new rights or deny old rights by using the Due Process Clause, for instance. In fact, such judicial discretion might lead to the destruction of the Bill of Rights if a majority of the judges ever wished to reach that most undesirable of goals.

This essay is followed by four commentaries by Professors Gordon Wood, Laurence Tribe, Mary Ann Glendon, and Ronald Dworkin, who engage Justice Scalia's ideas about judicial interpretation from varying standpoints.

The present moment is auspicious for an affirmation of judicial restraint in a democratic society increasingly enveloped by a juridical ethic that the federal constitution is an "evolutionary" -- perhaps revolutionary -- document, the meaning of whose provisions are determined principally by our law-trained elite -- lawyers, law professors and judges. Antonin Scalia, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court and America's foremost conservative jurist, has done just that in A Matter of Interpretation: Federal Courts and the Law, a thin volume that contains his lively and lucid defense of textualism and originalism in constitutional interpretation, along with the commentary of four academics -- Laurence Tribe, Ronald Dworkin, Mary Ann Glendon, and Gordon Wood. Swords ring clearest when the Justice responds to his critics in a concluding essay, in parts sharp, witty and sound. No less than Judge Robert Bork's 1990 bestseller The Tempting of America, Justice Scalia's essay and response to his critics is easily accessible to the general reader.

Judicial activism is a term of abuse -- in some quarters, approbation -- almost as often used as misconceived. A favorite trope of the juridical left is that conservative jurists and academics are in fact the true radicals, intent on effacing at least the last forty years of development in constitutional jurisprudence. This, of course, is a Merriam Webster kind of conservatism, one that conserves the status quo, be it decadent or virtuous. The interpretive philosophies of originalism and textualism espoused by Justice Scalia and others, however, are calibrated to conserve the constitutional order of the Founders by confining judicial decisions to the text of the Constitution, as its provisions were generally understood by those whose consent made it law. Judicial activism is measured by the variance of court decisions from the limited range of meaning which the Constitution's text, properly understood, can bear, and not by their variance from certain decisions of the Warren Court or other extra-constitutional principles now in vogue.

Justice Scalia believes that the judicial impulse to activism originates in the common law education American lawyers receive. At one point judge-made or common law -- "common" because it is the law governing quotidian activity, from contracts and property transaction to tort claims -- merely reflected social and commercial usage, but sometime after the thirteenth century essentially became the application of judicial reason to the controversies of the day. Judge-made law grew in the general absence of statutory or enacted law. In law school, students learn to comb through centuries worth of Anglo-American court decisions, distilling from them the rules judges created to decide the cases before them. After these rules of decision are identified, professors and their students debate the policies underlying each decision and whether a more effective or more just rule can be imagined. As the justice points out, this can be exciting experience, as it all "consists of playing king -- devising, out of the brilliance of one's own mind, those laws that ought govern mankind." When law students become lawyers, and lawyers judges, they naturally carry with them the common law habit of judging and creating law according to their own private notions of justice.

This common law education lingers today despite the proliferation of enacted law, originating in the 1930s with the New Deal and continuing unabated through today. Judges deciding even commonplace cases today do not face the open canvass of the common law as did their predecessors centuries ago, but vast tracts of statutory and regulatory text. But the common law skills and habits learned in law school persist, and when confronted with often haphazardly drawn statutes, littered with ambiguities, the temptation to impose one's personal prejudices is often too great for a willful judge to resist. The greatest temptation of all -- with faint promises of jurisprudential immortality -- comes when a judge has to interpret the broad phrases of the United States Constitution.

The notion that the Constitution is a "living document" is common currency in legal and non-legal circles alike. The antique rights of Englishmen, the argument goes, cannot be chiseled into the constitutional granite of colonial America, fixed and indifferent to the pleas of modern society. Instead, the Constitution must be "launched upon a historic voyage of interpretation in which succeeding generations . . . [will] elaborate what the text means in ways all but certain not to remain static" (in Professor Tribe's formulation) ; and sometimes it's provisions must grow and develop to reflect "the evolving standards of decency that mark the progress of a maturing society" (in one of Justice Brennan's formulatons). The discovery or creation of new constitutional rights, and the adaptation of old ones, is possible "only through the processes of moral philosophy," as Professor Tribe admits. Of course, this ethereal voyage of interpretation is captained by our law-trained elite, taking as their polestars their private notions of social justice.