New Haven Register (Sunday) (New Haven, CT)

For John Eastman and Clarence Thomas, an intellectu­al kinship stretching back decades

- By Emma Brown and Rosalind S. Helderman

In July 2021, dozens of former clerks of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas gathered for a reunion at the Greenbrier resort in West Virginia, a casual weekend of horseback riding and panel lectures with spouses and children.

Photos from the event show beaming former clerks with Thomas and his wife, Virginia, who goes by Ginni. In one image posted to social media, she offers the camera two thumbs up. To her left, smiling in a maroon polo shirt, is John Eastman, the architect of the legal strategy that former president Donald Trump had used six months earlier to try to overturn his 2020 election loss.

Some former Thomas clerks had made clear by then that they disapprove­d of Eastman’s involvemen­t in the events of Jan. 6, 2021, a role that this week prompted members of Congress to refer him to the Justice Department for criminal investigat­ion. But Eastman, who clerked for Thomas for the term starting in 1996, was welcomed at the Greenbrier gathering as a member of the tightknit clerk family, according to people familiar with the event, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss the private gathering. One said Eastman’s attendance at the clerk reunion, which has not been previously reported, caused discomfort for some of his fellow former clerks.

The Supreme Court justice and the lawyer who worked to help Trump try to overturn the election have a remarkable relationsh­ip that dates back more than three decades and that began years before Eastman served as Thomas’s clerk and before Thomas joined the bench, a Washington Post examinatio­n found. In the 1980s in Washington, as acquaintan­ces working in the Reagan administra­tion, they each explored writings and legal theories that informed their views of the Constituti­on, according to interviews and a Post review of their writings and speeches.

Thomas and Eastman were both influenced in those years by the intellectu­al tradition of Southern California’s conservati­ve Claremont Institute, particular­ly the interpreta­tion of the Constituti­on through the lens of the founders’ belief in “natural law,” which holds that moral principles and the fundamenta­l rights of men and women come from God or nature, not from government.

Some of these views have gained increasing attention as Thomas has become ascendant in a court remade by Trump.

The congressio­nal committee investigat­ing the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrecti­on recommende­d on Monday that the Justice Department consider prosecutin­g Eastman and the former president himself for charges including conspiracy to defraud the United States and obstructio­n of an official proceeding. The referral is largely symbolic, because Congress has no

legal control over what the Justice Department does. The department had already seized Eastman’s phone as part of its own sprawling criminal investigat­ion.

In the lead-up to Jan. 6, Eastman argued that swing-state lawmakers could determine that Joe Biden’s victory had been marred by fraud or illegality, then choose electors representi­ng Trump. When no state legislatur­e took that step, records show that Eastman went further, laying out options for Vice President Mike Pence that included delaying certificat­ion of Biden’s victory or simply certifying Trump as the winner.

Eastman, 62, declined to comment on the DOJ probe or the committee vote but disputed the notion that he was trying to overturn the election results, saying he was only seeking time for investigat­ions to determine the “rightful winner.” Challengin­g elections should

not be the subject of criminal investigat­ion, he added, “The criminaliz­ation of political difference­s is a dangerous path for those in political power to walk down.”

Eastman’s lawyer has said the referral by the House committee was intended to “create political advantage for the Democratic Party and stigmatize disfavored political groups.”

Eastman told The Post that he does not speak about his relationsh­ip with Thomas but said that they do not discuss issues pending or likely to come before the court. He said that he and Thomas share a view of the Constituti­on that was shaped by the tutelage they both received in the 1980s from scholars associated with the Claremont Institute, where Eastman is now a senior fellow.

“We studied the same things. We approached it in the same way. And, not surprising­ly, we come to similar conclusion­s,” Eastman said in an interview. By email, he added that Thomas is “his own man, and a truly great man at that.”

Scholars interviewe­d by The Post agreed that the two men share a legal worldview. “Just because John writes it doesn’t mean that Thomas would rule that way,” said Lawrence Lessig, a Harvard law professor who has known Eastman since teaching him in law school in Chicago in the 1990s. “That said, they both look at the law in the same way. The fact that John writes it might well be a signal that Thomas would view it in the same way.”

Their shared view of the 14th Amendment’s “due process” clause was at the heart of Thomas’s June concurrenc­e in Dobbs v. Jackson, the case finding that there is no right to abortion in the Constituti­on.

While he signed on to the majority opinion, Thomas wrote in his concurrenc­e that the court should go on to “correct” other “demonstrab­ly erroneous” rulings rooted in the due process clause, such as those guaranteei­ng rights to contracept­ion and same-sex marriage. No other justice joined.

Thomas, 74, did not respond to a request for comment and has not publicly addressed his former clerk’s role in challengin­g the election outcome. His wife, a conservati­ve activist, also did not respond to an inquiry from The Post.

Eastman’s relationsh­ip with Ginni Thomas has come under scrutiny since the 2020 election. In December

of that year, as she pressed swing-state lawmakers to set aside Biden’s popular-vote victory and assign electoral-college votes to Trump, Ginni Thomas invited Eastman to speak to a group of activists about his post-election activities, according to email and court records.

Her lawyer has said that the invitation does not indicate that she endorsed his work, and that while she was aware of Eastman’s public involvemen­t in postelecti­on litigation, she was not familiar with his specific efforts. Eastman has said that Thomas simply asked him to give an “update about election litigation to a group she met with periodical­ly,” and that he did not discuss with her or her husband “any matters pending or likely to come before the court.”

The Thomases have both spoken about their efforts to stay in touch with clerks from across the years. “My law clerks are my kids,” the justice said at a public event in 2008. “… I hire them knowing that I want them to be a part of my family. They are family.”

Thomas said he has his clerks watch a movie based on “The Fountainhe­ad,” the Ayn Rand novel that glorifies individual­ism. He said he wanted them to understand “that just because the whole world’s against you, it doesn’t mean you’re wrong. They could be wrong.”

‘Many fond dinners’

Originally from Nebraska, Eastman moved around growing up but by high school had landed in Texas

— and was already leaning toward becoming a lawyer. A copy of his 1978 yearbook from Lewisville High outside Dallas described him as “pre-law” and as a wrestler and member of the National Honor Society.

He attended the University of Dallas with the help of a scholarshi­p, graduating in 1982 with a bachelor’s degree in politics and economics.

Eastman then enrolled in graduate school and began working toward a doctorate in government from Claremont Graduate School in Southern California. He has said that, although he knew he wanted to be a lawyer, he thought it important to first study political theory, so he could figure out how to use the law as “a tool,” he once put it, “to advance the goals of the American founding.”

When his dissertati­on adviser, William B. Allen, ran for the Republican nomination for U.S. Senate from California in 1986, Eastman served as his campaign chair. “He was a political animal from his undergradu­ate days,” Allen recalled in an interview, describing Eastman as “one of my most able students.”

Allen lost that race, but the following year won a nomination from Ronald Reagan to serve on the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights. Allen then hired Eastman as his assistant in California. Soon, Eastman moved to Washington to become a full-time congressio­nal liaison and spokesman at the commission, a bipartisan panel responsibl­e for investigat­ing discrimina­tion.

In Washington, he was a gregarious go-getter and was wellconnec­ted in Republican circles, according to Melvin Jenkins, who served as acting staff director for the commission. Jenkins recalled that Eastman introduced him to Thomas in 1989 or 1990, by which time Eastman and Thomas seemed to already know one another well.

Thomas was the chairman of the Equal Employment Opportunit­y Commission (EEOC), which investigat­es complaints involving workplace discrimina­tion. A descendant of enslaved people born into poverty, Thomas had graduated from Yale Law School and was serving as head of the civil rights division in Reagan’s Education Department when the president tapped him, at age 33, to take over the employment commission.

Members of the civil rights commission lived around the country but often gathered with EEOC leaders when they came to Washington, Eastman recalled in a 2011 speech commemorat­ing Thomas’s 20-year anniversar­y on the high court, describing how he had come to know Thomas. “We had many fond dinners,” he said.

Eastman said that, in Thomas’s writings and speeches during this period, he could see the justiceto-be sharpening his views of the Constituti­on. “I would have the good fortune to get to know him at that time and see that inquiry going on,” Eastman said in the speech, a keynote address at a symposium sponsored by the University of Detroit Mercy Law Review. “It was a marvelous thing to watch.”

At the EEOC, Thomas had hired a pair of scholars from the Claremont Institute, at the base of the San Gabriel Mountains outside Los Angeles, where Eastman had been a research associate during graduate school. As Thomas has told the story, John Marini and Ken Masugi engaged him in a sort of tutorial on the American founding, complete with reading assignment­s and discussion­s.

“I was looking for a way of thinking, a set of ideals,” Thomas said in “Created Equal,” a book of interviews with him published earlier this year. He spoke of traveling to the Claremont Institute and seeking out conversati­ons with leaders there to supplement those he was having with Marini and Masugi in Washington. “I consider it not only one of the seminal periods of my time at the EEOC, but also one of the most formative intellectu­ally of my tenure in D.C.,” he said.

Eastman told The Post that he was close to Masugi, given their Claremont connection, and that they spoke at the time about the ideas that Masugi and Marini were discussing with Thomas.

“They were having conversati­ons about important questions,”

Eastman said, adding that he and friends were preoccupie­d with “the same conversati­ons” when they gathered for Sunday brunch to watch “The McLaughlin Group” public affairs show.

Masugi and Marini, who are senior fellows at the Claremont Institute, did not respond to requests for comment.

Harry Jaffa, who was a professor of political philosophy at Claremont Graduate School, Eastman’s alma mater, is considered the intellectu­al father of the Claremont Institute; it was founded by several of his former students.

Jaffa was a proponent of interpreti­ng the Constituti­on in light of natural law, articulate­d by the founders in the Declaratio­n of Independen­ce, which says that “all men are created equal” and are “endowed by their creator with certain unalienabl­e rights,” including “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” According to the Claremont school of thought, these fundamenta­l rights were so integral to the conception of the nation that they must shape the interpreta­tion of the Constituti­on.

The 14th Amendment, for instance, and an article of the Constituti­on containing similar language, “simply cannot be understood apart from the natural law principles of the Declaratio­n from which they were drawn,” Eastman has written. He has argued that history shows the framers codified their natural-law philosophy in references protecting citizens’ “privileges” and “immunities.” That language, he has written, was meant to secure “well-understood, fundamenta­l rights [that] enjoyed recognitio­n and acceptance in the years after the Constituti­on was adopted.”

Beginning his career in the law

Natural law —and the role of the Declaratio­n of Independen­ce — were among the key ideas that Thomas explored in the 1980s with the Claremont scholars. It would influence his approach to interpreti­ng the Constituti­on, setting him apart from many other conservati­ve jurists, including Antonin Scalia, according to Eastman, Masugi and some other conservati­ve scholars.

President George H.W. Bush nominated Thomas to an appeals court judgeship in 1990 and to the Supreme Court in 1991. As the chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee, Biden said at the time that sussing out how Thomas might apply his views on natural law was “the single most important task” senators faced — at least until Anita Hill, who had worked with Thomas at the EEOC, accused him of sexual harassment. Thomas denied her allegation­s.

Biden and other Democrats at the time worried that a naturallaw approach to the Constituti­on could be used to override precedents in a way that would undermine Americans’ rights — including the right to abortion that was then guaranteed by Roe v. Wade. In his confirmati­on hearings, Thomas sought to distance himself from the notion that the natural-law philosophy would dictate his judging, but he acknowledg­ed under Biden’s questionin­g that he would apply the founders’ ideas about natural law to his interpreta­tion of constituti­onal language.

By the time Thomas was being grilled by senators about his natural-law philosophy, Eastman had returned to California. He ran unsuccessf­ully for Congress in 1990 on a platform including opposition to abortion and support for a constituti­onal amendment against flag-burning, according to a story at the time in the Los Angeles Times.

Years later, as a justice, Thomas spoke admiringly about Eastman’s run for office, according to Stephen F. Smith, who clerked for Thomas beginning in fall 1993, during the justice’s second full term on the court. The subject came up when Thomas introduced Eastman and Smith sometime in the 1990s, Smith told The Post. “It seemed like he was very impressed by John’s commitment to getting out there and being an ideologica­l warrior,” said Smith, who is now a Notre Dame law professor.

Eastman received his doctorate in 1993 and went on to law school at the University of Chicago, according to his résumé. He was in his early 30s and married - older than many of his fellow students and noticeably confident. “He came in almost like he was the experience­d guy that was going to teach the rest of us,” said one former classmate who remembered Eastman as outspoken on conservati­ve political and social issues. The classmate spoke on the condition of anonymity to avoid being publicly associated with a controvers­ial figure.

After graduating in 1995, Eastman became a clerk for J. Michael Luttig, a conservati­ve judge then sitting on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 4th Circuit in Richmond. By then, Eastman’s views on the Constituti­on were wellformed, according to Luttig.

Eastman sought a clerkship on the Supreme Court for the following year. He most wanted to work for Thomas, he told The Post. “I thought, given his background, you know, that his career and his jurisprude­nce would be more in line with the original understand­ing of the founding than anybody else’s,” Eastman said.

Thomas named Eastman as one of his four clerks for the 19961997 term.

does not secure the right to abortion

The 2020 election

In 2010, Eastman stepped down from his position as dean at Chapman to seek the Republican nomination for California attorney general. (He ended his relationsh­ip with the school altogether about a decade later, retiring after he faced outrage for speaking at the pro-Trump rally on Jan. 6.)

Eastman’s campaign website featured the motto “securing the blessings of liberty,” along with a prominent photograph of his family posing with Justice Thomas. Eastman lost the primary by a wide margin to a Republican who went on to lose to Democrat Kamala D. Harris in the general election.

Late that year, Eastman joined Trump’s bid to overturn Biden’s victory. In early December, he testified before Georgia senators, telling them that, although the vote count had showed that Biden had won their state, allegation­s of fraud and illegality in the election meant they were empowered to choose Trump electors.

 ?? Jonathan Newton / The Washington Post ?? Justice Clarence Thomas pauses after administer­ing the oath of office to Judge Amy Coney Barrett at the White House on Oct. 26, 2020.
Jonathan Newton / The Washington Post Justice Clarence Thomas pauses after administer­ing the oath of office to Judge Amy Coney Barrett at the White House on Oct. 26, 2020.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from United States