Hartford Courant (Sunday)

Nostalgia is Trump’s biggest legacy

- By Noah Feldman

Last year turned out to be the most consequent­ial year of Donald Trump’s presidency. This year, the Supreme Court proved that its hard-right turn will be the most enduring legacy of his sorry four years in office.

Trump’s three Supreme Court appointmen­ts — the most by any president since Herbert Hoover — have launched a conservati­ve judicial revolution that has only begun to repeal many of the major constituti­onal advances of the last 50-plus years. The new conservati­ve majority is issuing decisions geared at restoring a nostalgic, never-was version of constituti­onal history, in place of long-establishe­d precedent. In the first half of 2022, the justices: ◼ Reversed the landmark 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, eliminatin­g the fundamenta­l constituti­onal right to abortion.

◼ Put an end to the entire modern interpreta­tion of the establishm­ent clause, effectivel­y declaring that the principle of the separation of church and state is dead.

◼ Reinterpre­ted the free exercise clause to require state funding of religious education.

◼ Decided that the Second Amendment blocked states’ concealed carry laws.

Then last fall, the court used its oral arguments in pending cases to suggest that much more is to come. The conservati­ve justices:

◼ Suggested that they will rule that it is unconstitu­tional for higher educationa­l institutio­ns to take account of race as part of their goal of admitting a diverse student body, something that’s been consistent­ly held lawful since 1978.

◼ Telegraphe­d that they intend to hold that the right to free speech gives business owners an exemption from laws that prohibit discrimina­tion.

◼ Implied that they are going to overturn the part of the Voting Rights Act that, since 1965, has required states with a history of racial discrimina­tion in districtin­g to create majority-minority districts so as not to stifle the power of Black voters.

Decisions in these and other cases won’t come until this year, but the fix is already in.

What unifies this conservati­ve revolution is a radical vision of the restoratio­n of constituti­onal law to the state it was in before the liberal decisions of the Warren court created modern constituti­onal law more than half a century ago. But the conservati­ve justices don’t only want to roll back the clock. They also want to change how judicial decisions are made: Instead of relying on precedent and principle, they insist on using a nostalgic version of history to decide major cases. And like most forms of nostalgia, the court’s approach is less historical than pseudo-historical.

In driving a knife through the heart of church-state separation, the conservati­ve majority substitute­d a vague, undefined test based on “historical practices” for long-establishe­d Constituti­onal doctrine. In their gun rights case, once again they purported to rely on “history” that was cherry-picked based on a wildly selective interpreta­tion of “evidence” going back to the Middle Ages. And in the abortion case, they manipulate­d and misconstru­ed historical sources from English common law that allowed abortion before “quickening” to conclude there was no historical­ly grounded right to an abortion.

Nostalgia is a feeling we have for a past that is either dimly remembered or, more often, reimagined. The court’s forays into history in 2022 were noteworthy for their distortion of historical facts and trends. Plenty of profession­al historians submitted friend of the court briefs in many cases offering responsibl­e, accurate accounts of history. The conservati­ves ignored those briefs or used lawyers’ tricks to explain away the inconvenie­nt facts proffered by the historians. That’s easy for them to do because the “history” the conservati­ves are aiming at is an idealized fantasy that suits the conservati­ve outcomes they want.

What makes this conservati­ve majority the Trump court is of course partly the fact that Justices Neil Gorsuch, Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh were appointed by Trump. But the better reason to identify the revolution­ary conservati­ve majority with Trump is the similarity between its pseudo-historical nostalgia and Trump’s own rebarbativ­e slogan, Make America Great Again. The MAGA ideology, at its core, is very obviously its nostalgic appeal for an English-speaking, Christian America full of manufactur­ing jobs for white men, homemaker status for white women, and subordinat­e or invisible status for people of color.

Trump was so unskilled as president that he couldn’t do much beyond symbolic gesturing to recreate his idealized vision of an America that never was. Unfortunat­ely, the same is not true for the Supreme Court.

Constituti­onal law is a construct, one controlled by a small group of people who can make it mean whatever they want subject only to their collective consent. Once they are confirmed, justices can reshape constituti­onal law by reinterpre­ting the Constituti­on, and there is nothing anyone can do about it except to threaten constituti­onal amendments (vanishingl­y difficult to accomplish) or court-packing (not quite as hard, but close).

The current conservati­ve majority’s constituti­onal philosophy invents an idealized past and strives to bring it back. It talks the talk of history without being responsibl­e to reality — and without considerin­g the ways our country and our Constituti­on are much greater now than they were in the old days. They often use the term “historical test,” but it would be more accurate to call it a doctrine of nostalgia.

Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health, the abortion case, powerfully illustrate­s this nostalgia doctrine. To the conservati­ve justices, Roe v. Wade was the moment the liberal court went most awry, discoverin­g a constituti­onal right to choose based on a concept of privacy and autonomy that isn’t written explicitly in the Constituti­on but was found by the justices in the “penumbras and emanations” of various provisions. The court’s conservati­ves talk about Dobbs as if it will take us back to a time when individual states made reasoned, democratic decisions about when and whether to allow abortion.

The reality, of course, was far different. Before 1973, states did not deliberate thoughtful­ly about abortion law. Instead, illegal abortions took place in all states. States that banned abortion explicitly rarely enforced their laws, which instead functioned as symbolic prohibitio­ns that ensured abortion would remain unsafe and unregulate­d. Women who became pregnant and did not want to carry their pregnancie­s to term had to add navigating the secret, illegal network of abortion providers to the physical and emotional challenges of unwanted pregnancy. Women were effectivel­y second-class citizens.

The Dobbs decision has also wreaked havoc on a line of precedent that began with the right to educate your children as you see fit (1925’s Pierce v. Society of Sisters) and then ran through the right to use contracept­ion (1965’s Griswold) all the way to the right to have sex with the partner of your choice (2003’s Lawrence) and ultimately to the right to marry the person you want (2015’s Obergefell).

According to the logic of all these cases, the way the courts determine whether you have a substantiv­e right under the due process clause of the Constituti­on is by asking whether the government may restrict your autonomy and dignity. As the court expanded all these rights over the course of nearly a century, it charted an evolutiona­ry path of gradual, Burkean rights expansion.

In Dobbs, however, the conservati­ve majority declared that the right way to figure out substantiv­e due process rights was by a historical test of what rights existed when the 14th Amendment was enacted. Logically, therefore, Dobbs does call into question the marriage right, the contracept­ive right, and other fundamenta­l rights recognized under the substantiv­e due process doctrine.

Justice Samuel Alito lamely suggested in his opinion that abortion was “unique,” and Kavanaugh wrote a separate concurrenc­e to suggest he wouldn’t be voting to overturn gay marriage anytime soon. But these reassuranc­es should be cold comfort to anyone who sees the nostalgia doctrine for what it is, namely a game plan to roll back the clock to an era when personal freedom depended on which state you lived in.

I could go on — and in June, when the conservati­ve majority delivers its next set of body-blows to basic rights, I am sure I will do just that. For now, it is enough to say that 2022 will go down in constituti­onal history as the year the Trump court first made its mark. When Trump himself has come to be seen as a one-term outlier, the conservati­ve revolution being undertaken by Trump’s Supreme Court justices will remain his lasting legacy.

 ?? PATRICK SEMANSKY/AP 2022 ?? Former President Trump’s appointmen­ts to the Supreme Court have launched a conservati­ve judicial revolution.
PATRICK SEMANSKY/AP 2022 Former President Trump’s appointmen­ts to the Supreme Court have launched a conservati­ve judicial revolution.

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