Robert F. Blomquist
2009 Cardozo L. Rev. de novo 244
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We Americans—We the People—relish our national Constitution and delight in the game of constitutional interpretation. The game of American constitutional interpretation recalls the complexity and nuance of other great games like the Glass Bead Game and Chess. In never-ending iterations about the meaning of our Constitution we pontificate and debate about intellectual antecedents, [Page245] historical background, provisions of the Constitution, ratification, contemporary exigencies, and much more.
Seth Barrett Tillman has provided constitutional law “gamers” with two hard-hitting legal think pieces—one, a full-blown article in Penn State Law Review, the other, an abridged version of that article in Cardozo Law Review de [Page246] novo—evaluating and critiquing Professor Geoffrey R. Stone’s Melville B. Nimmer Memorial Lecture and Essay published in the UCLA Law Review. In this modest and concise Essay, I seek to praise Tillman’s intellectual virtues (while empathizing, in part, with Professor Stone). My pivoting gambit and larger purpose, however, is to urge legal scholars, jurists and lawyers to strive for what I call contextual constitutional intelligence in playing the vital game of interpreting our American Constitution.
I. TILLMAN’S VIRTUES
Mr. Tillman’s careful dissection of the historical claims of Professor Stone’s Melville B. Nimmer Memorial Lecture and Essay is nothing short of breathtaking. But before we ponder the meaning of Tillman’s analysis, we should not forget that Geoffrey Stone is a highly prestigious legal scholar with an excellent reputation. The cautionary significance of Professor Stone’s exegetical lapses regarding the intellectual history of the religious milieu of American constitutional moments of the [Page247] late Eighteenth Century should be taken in measured stride by the legal academy. We all make mistakes. Lawyers and law professors—in the company of scientists, literary critics, journalists and others—are prone to overinterpretation. But the theatricality of law—the argumentative attempts by advocates of a client or a cause (including legal academics) to justify contested claims—complicates legal discourse.
Indeed, the paramount virtue of Mr. Tillman’s response to Professor Stone is that of lawyerly wisdom: for lawyers to “[n]ever overstate your case” and to “[b]e scrupulously accurate.” This is an insight that goes back to the ancient art of rhetoric. “You’ll harm your credibility . . . if you characterize the case as a lead-pipe cinch with nothing to be said for the other side.” Moreover, “[s]crupulous accuracy consists not merely in never making a statement you know to be incorrect . . . but also in never making a statement you are not certain is correct. So err, if you must, on the side of understatement, and flee hyperbole.”
Other important virtues of Tillman’s critique of Stone include the following: to remind us to be carefully aware of the complete text of the Constitution when making claims of constitutional meaning; to urge us to consider the 1787 Constitution and its meaning to the Framers and Ratifiers separately from the post-1791 Constitution, which incorporated the Bill of Rights; to have us appreciate the [Page248] complexity of history, in general, and American constitutional history, in particular; to counsel us to practice scholarly prudence in describing historical context in making interpretational claims about the Constitution; and to insist that we corroborate facts through careful source-checking and cross-references.
In agreeing with Mr. Tillman that Professor Stone could have done better in more accurately and completely describing the importance of religion to the Founders and whether or not the United States Constitution created (or endorsed) a “Christian Nation” (or, in my humble opinion, a religiously active but tolerant national culture), we should remember, as Marshall McLuhan once said, that “the medium is the message.” With all due respect to endowed law school lecture series that invite distinguished scholars to pontificate on various legal subjects, perhaps there is an all-too-human temptation of those fortunate few who get offered substantial honoraria to speak and greet and publish law review essays for these engagements to sometimes approach the undertaking in a slapdash, shoot-from-the-hip-fashion. Time is short and distinguished legal scholars have much on their respective plates. So maybe we should take such academic legal performances as endowed lectures and follow-up essays with a grain of salt. Or, alternatively, maybe law schools should give invited scholars more time and better guidelines [Page249] in helping them craft their lectures and published essays. Law review editors of journals where the endowed lecture essay will appear should also avoid giving the eminent scholar a free pass.
II. CONTEXTUAL CONSTITUTIONAL INTELLIGENCE
The larger significance of Mr. Tillman’s penetrating critique is, I think, a call for more rigorous and careful constitutional interpretation. Tillman’s project is linked with the musings of Professors Daniel A. Farber and Suzanna Sherry who warn against “foundational theories of interpretation to provide simple answers to all constitutional questions and unify all of constitutional doctrine,” and who go on to observe that those who “try[] to make constitutional interpretation simple, certain, and coherent . . . mischaracterize both the Constitution and the judicial enterprise.” For Farber and Sherry, both the Constitution and the judicial enterprise “are human creations, and thus both are complex, uncertain, and sometimes inconsistent. Judicial interpretation of the Constitution is a constantly evolving process of accommodation, and it cannot be constrained by artificial theories built from the ground up.”
The complex, uncertain and sometimes inconsistent process of constitutional interpretation should draw upon what Professor Wilson Huhn calls the five types of legal argument: text, intent, precedent, tradition and policy analysis. Importantly, as Tillman reminds us, the meaning of the Constitution of the United States needs to be grasped by a scrupulous and thorough examination of the specific words in the document’s various iterations and the structure of the whole document. What the text of the Constitution meant to the panoply of Founders and Ratifiers (in a wide assortment of written accounts) in the late Eighteenth Century is vitally important as well. American constitutional interpretation must also give due measure to the holdings and opinions of our Supreme Court Justices over the course of more than two centuries. Traditional ways that Americans have conducted themselves on matters of personal conduct and governance are relevant and weighty on some constitutional questions. [Page250] Finally, pragmatic, forward-looking balancing of social costs and benefits can also shed critical light on constitutional interpretation.
Contextual constitutional intelligence is a way to tie together the aforementioned insights. For example, on the meta-question of whether or not the Founders and Ratifiers created a “Christian Nation,” we need, first, to read every word of the Constitution, itself, and seek, as Mr. Tillman suggests, a particularistic and a holistic sense of the entire text, viewed through a temporal analytical lens. Second, we should strive (though it is a Herculean endeavor) to synoptically grasp the intent of the founding/ratifying generation by poring over Eighteenth Century American essays, journals, books, pamphlets, letters and newspapers, while taking advantage of the labors and insights of later historians. Third, the full corpus of United States Supreme Court precedent—majority, plurality, concurring and dissenting opinions of our Justices from 1790 to the present with selective sampling of lower court judicial opinions—can help us gain perspective on the views of the American judiciary across the spectrum of, at one end, a religiously thick Nation, and at the other end, a religiously threadbare Nation. Nonjudicial precedents concerning the interplay between the state and religion can also be instructive. Moreover, taking stock of the panoply of American traditions that have yoked together the secular with the sacred would allow us to identify patterns of cooperation and respect between government and religion. Finally, the forward-looking, utility-maximizing, instrumentalism of policy analysis would afford us a futuristic ballast to the backward-looking techniques of text, intent, precedent and tradition. From the standpoint of policy analysis, perhaps the United States of America in the Twenty-First Century has transcended its origins as an arguably [Page251] “Christian Nation,” or a “Religious Nation,” to become a “Spiritual Nation.”
Constitutional gamers of all stripes should be thankful for the brilliant and bracing thoughts of Seth Barrett Tillman.
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