Originalism and Its Discontents
You might think that such disputes would have been laid to rest by a bloody Civil War and the Reconstruction amendments, which outlawed slavery and granted all men the right to vote, regardless of race. Not to mention that the Constitution continued to change in the century after: Senators were to be directly elected; women were granted the right to vote.
But for the last 50 years, the Constitution has appeared frozen in amber. (The last major amendment, in 1971, lowered the voting age to 18.) In reaction to landmark decisions prohibiting segregation and bans on interracial marriage, conservative legal scholars began to champion judicial interpretations that rested on the framers’ intentions, 200 years before.
Originalists, as these scholars call themselves, say they are simply reacting to decades of “overreach” by “activist” judges. Liberal critics counter that interpreting the law according to what the founders (supposedly) wanted amounts to an end run around protecting and promoting a multiracial democracy. The attorney and columnist Madiba K. Dennie argues that originalists’ canny use of apolitical language ensnares liberals into treating originalism as coherent jurisprudence, even when it functions more like an “ideology.” Far from encouraging “judicial restraint,” she writes in “The Originalism Trap,” originalism is much more effective in “restraining judges from doing good things.”
It may be a measure of the current crisis that even the conservative scholar Yuval Levin doesn’t think originalism can remedy our constitutional woes. Originalism is by definition preoccupied with what judges do, when the more urgent problem lies with a legislature that is, as he puts it in “American Covenant,” “underactive.” Members of Congress behave “like performers or mere seekers of celebrity,” neglecting to do the hard work of wielding the legislative power entrusted in them by the Constitution.
To anyone who thinks that the Constitution has been tearing us apart, Levin insists that it can bring us together. He argues that precisely because the Constitution was a “product of grudging and gradual compromise,” it is especially valuable in our fractious times. The requirement of supermajorities, which entails “frustrating narrow majorities,” is, he says, a good thing. Members of Congress are supposed to build coalitions, which “tends to make partisans more tolerant, and more tolerable.”
It does? A lot of people looking at Congress today would be hard pressed to find a glimmer of the tolerance Levin so genially prescribes. Even he has to admit that Congress “looks dysfunctional from every angle.” But Levin’s serene insistence that political frustration is healthy instead of corrosive may have something to do with the fact that the Constitution’s “patchwork of compromises” happens to align with his own brand of cautious conservatism. He says that presidential candidates should vie for voters in “the most competitive states, which tend to fall near the ideological middle,” because it “is good for both national unity and the competitiveness of our politics.” He singles out for praise “the peculiar institution of the Electoral College.”