The Weekly Sift

While we were watching the flags, Alito wrote a decision that greenlights racial gerrymanders and opens a door for Jim Crow to come back.

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Samuel Alito has long been my least favorite Supreme Court justice, even before his anti-American-democracy flags (which I’ll cover in the weekly summary post that will follow this one), and even before he wrote the Dobbs decision. You might think I just dislike him because his judicial philosophy is different from mine, but I don’t think that’s it. You see, I’m not convinced he has a judicial philosophy.

What makes Alito a frustrating judge for me is that his rulings seem to have nothing to do with the law. In just about any case, you can predict Alito’s opinion by asking three simple questions:

• Does one outcome favor the Republican Party?
• Does one outcome favor the Catholic Church?
• Does one outcome favor the Haves over the Have-Nots?

If the answer to any of those questions is “yes”, that’s where Alito will come down. You can safely make that prediction without knowing anything about the facts of the case or the relevant laws. All the stuff people argue about in law school is irrelevant.

Other justices will sometimes surprise. Even bought-and-paid-for Clarence Thomas has a few legal hobby horses that occasionally cause him to take a position I wouldn’t have expected. But as best I can tell, Alito has none. He has partisan commitments and he votes to support them; end of story.

Whenever I read an Alito opinion, I’m reminded of a distinction that occurs in religion, between theology and apologetics. Theology attempts to ascertain truths about God, but apologetics develops convincing arguments to defend prior religious beliefs. The two often resemble each other: When Thomas Aquinas claims to prove the existence of God through reason, is he nailing down something previously in doubt (theology), or is he evangelizing to rational people who otherwise might not believe in God (apologetics)? It can be hard to tell.

Similarly, Alito’s written opinions often resemble legal reasoning. He cites precedents, makes deductions, and in general constructs arguments that lead to conclusions. But the arguments appear to have nothing to do with how he reached those conclusions. Instead, they give a gloss of legality to Alito’s prior convictions.

The Dobbs decision is an obvious example: Ostensibly, Alito argues that

Our nation’s historical understanding of ordered liberty does not prevent the people’s elected representatives from deciding how abortion should be regulated.

The Dobbs opinion is one long history lesson justifying that claim. But its history is carefully edited, and Alito does not address the points made in an amicus brief by actual historians. [1] He appears to have no interest in history beyond how it might justify fulfilling the Catholic goal of overturning Roe v Wade.

This week gave us another example, whose importance is in danger of being lost in the controversy over Alito’s flags: He wrote the majority opinion in Alexander v South Carolina NAACP, a decision that Vox’ Ian Milhiser calls “a love letter to gerrymandering“. This decision gives states a green light to engage in all manner of racial gerrymandering; the practice is still technically unconstitutional, but under the standards of Alexander, it becomes nearly impossible to establish in court.

Gerrymandering. Let’s review a little: Gerrymandering means drawing the lines of electoral districts so that your side can win a decisive majority in some legislative body with only a minority of actual votes. There are numerous examples of this happening in state legislatures and even in the U.S. Congress. In extreme examples, a near-50/50 state can wind up with a legislative supermajority for one party. (Basically, you pack all of the other party’s voters into a few districts, which they win with 90% majorities. Then you distribute your voters so that you have reliable 55-45 wins in the other districts.)

On paper, gerrymandering is a cross-partisan problem, and there are states where Democrats gerrymander. But Democrats have tried to ban the practice, and on the whole it favors Republicans, whose rural voters are already more distributed geographically, and who have less shame generally about subverting democracy.

Not that many years ago, optimists thought partisan gerrymandering might get banned by the courts as a violation of basic democratic principles. That hope went out the window in the 2019 Rucho decision, where Chief Justice Roberts declared partisan gerrymanding “nonjusticiable”, meaning that whatever damage the practice might do to democracy, courts have no power to stop it.

But racial gerrymandering, where you draw lines to diminish the voting power of some racial minority, is still considered a violation of the 14th Amendment. The problem is how to tell the difference when a racial minority has predictable voting patterns. If South Carolina moves voters from one congressional district to another, how do we know whether they’re being moved because they’re Black (unconstitutional) or because they’re Democrats (nonjusticiable)?

The Alexander case. Here’s how Alito makes that determination in the current case:

The Constitution entrusts state legislatures with the primary responsibility for drawing congressional districts, and redistricting is an inescapably political enterprise. Legislators are almost always aware of the political ramifications of the maps they adopt, and claims that a map is unconstitutional because it was drawn to achieve a partisan end are not justiciable in federal court. Thus, as far as the Federal Constitution is concerned, a legislature may pursue partisan ends when it engages in redistricting. By contrast, if a legislature gives race a predominant role in redistricting decisions, the resulting map is subjected to strict scrutiny and may be held unconstitutional.

These doctrinal lines collide when race and partisan preference are highly correlated. We have navigated this tension by endorsing two related propositions. First, a party challenging a map’s constitutionality must disentangle race and politics if it wishes to prove that the legislature was motivated by race as opposed to partisanship. Second, in assessing a legislature’s work, we start with a presumption that the legislature acted in good faith.

In Alexander, Alito’s assumption of the legislature’s good faith bulldozes all evidence to the contrary. In particular, it bulldozes the deference higher courts are supposed to give to the factual findings of lower courts. In Alexander, a three-judge panel held a trial where they listened to witnesses and compiled a record that runs thousands of pages. That panel concluded unanimously that South Carolina’s gerrymander was motivated by race.

On appeal, higher courts are supposed to accept such judgments unless there is a clear error in the record. (The reason for this is simple: The appellate judges can read the record, but they didn’t hear the testimony. They have no basis for rejecting the lower-court judges’ conclusions about who was or wasn’t telling the truth.) But Alito rejects the lower-court findings because the three-judge panel made the “clear error” of not giving him the finding he wanted. They should have accepted South Carolina’s claims that race was not the motive if there was any possibility that it might be true.

Justice Kagan’s dissent shreds this argument, and concludes:

What a message to send to state legislators and mapmakers about racial gerrymandering. For reasons I’ve addressed, those actors will often have an incentive to use race as a proxy to achieve partisan ends.
And occasionally they might want to straight-up suppress the electoral influence of minority voters. Go right ahead, this Court says to States today. Go ahead, though you have no recognized justification for using race, such as to comply with statutes ensuring equal voting rights. Go ahead, though you are (at best) using race as a short-cut to bring about partisan gains—to elect more Republicans in one case, more Democrats in another. It will be easy enough to cover your tracks in the end: Just raise a “possibility” of non-race-based decision-making, and it will be “dispositive.” And so this “odious” practice of sorting citizens, built on racial generalizations and exploiting racial divisions, will continue.

Disrespect for precedent. Kagan also points out that the Court heard a nearly identical case in 2017: Cooper v Harris. In that case, Alito made a nearly identical argument, but he lost 5-3, and the lower court’s rejection of North Carolina’s map was upheld.

Cases like that are supposed to be binding precedents, but this Court no longer respects precedent, so it reached the opposite conclusion in this case.

What changed since 2017? Were new laws or constitutional amendments passed? Did we learn something new about gerrymandering that called previous conclusions into question?

Not at all. As with Dobbs, the only thing that has changed is the composition of the Court. With the addition of the Trump justices, the three dissenters in Cooper have become the majority. Kagan writes:

Today, for all practical purposes, the Cooper dissent becomes the law.

Going forward. As with Dobbs, the arguments in the decision have much broader implications. When you read Alito’s opinion, it’s easy to forget that the Court’s precedents against racist laws come out of an ugly history. Ignoring this history, Alito expresses great sympathy for state officials who might find themselves accused of racism

[W]hen a federal court finds that race drove a legislature’s districting decisions, it is declaring that the legislature engaged in “offensive and demeaning” conduct that “bears an uncomfortable resemblance to political apartheid.” We should not be quick to hurl such accusations at the political branches.

But you will search Alito’s opinion in vain to find any expression of sympathy for the victims of racism. It’s as if racism exists only as an “accusation”, something disreputably used to stain the reputations of White people, who deserve our “presumption of good faith”.

Kagan calls out Alito’s message to legislatures that want to gerrymander away the electoral power of non-White voters: “Go ahead.” But the Alexander decision is even bigger than that. It says “Go ahead” to any legislative attempt to reestablish Jim Crow. If legislatures just avoid announcing their racist intentions openly, if they create plausible cover stories for laws that disadvantage racial minorities, the Supreme Court will “start with a presumption that the legislature acted in good faith” and be quick to dismiss any evidence to the contrary.

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[1] The historians’ brief begins:

When the United States was founded and for many subsequent decades, Americans relied on the English common law. The common law did not regulate abortion in early pregnancy. Indeed, the common law did not even recognize abortion as occurring at that stage. That is because the common law did not legally acknowledge a fetus as existing separately from a pregnant woman until the woman felt fetal movement, called “quickening,” which could occur as late as the 25th week of pregnancy.