The concern raised by David Strauss’s Essay might be addressed by positing an alternative, broader conception of judicial review than the one he proposes, which is inspired by the influential footnote in the Carolene Products case. My alternative view on the scope and nature of judicial review does not grow out of experience with American Constitutional history (which I am no expert on), but rather from a philosophical perspective grounded in liberal and democratic theory and from a comparative constitutional experience drawn from the European and Israeli contexts. I will present my position through a defense of two distinctions that seem essential to me.

Professor David Strauss attributes the U.S. Supreme Court’s reactionary jurisprudence to a breakdown of elite consensus. He observes that lawyers and judges disagree about the proper “victims” of our political process: Are they Black, Brown, and LGBTQ+ people or, instead, Whites, Christians, and gun owners? Under such elite “polarization,” Strauss worries the jurisprudential approach that emerged from Carolene Products allows for judicial intervention on behalf of groups loaded with political power. Even then, he insists on the classic liberal defense of the courts: that courts serve as an important if imperfect check against the majoritarian domination of minorities. But critical to such defenses is the unstated conjecture that elites are more enlightened than popular majorities.

In Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization and Obergefell v. Hodges, the Justices who attack substantive due process law equate it with Lochner. Today, crying “Lochner” has so much force that it is often unclear what the objection itself entails. “Lochner” warns federal judges to defer to a legislature’s judgments in enacting ordinary social and economic legislation. But the modern substantive due process cases do not concern such legislation. In this Essay, we supply an answer to the Lochner objection by demonstrating how judicial review of substantive due process claims can be democracy-promoting.

Among law students, lawyers, jurists, and legal academics, the reasoning contained in Supreme Court opinions forms the indispensable object of examination. The centrality of those opinions is instilled from the very first moments of law school, as professors direct their students to scrutinize this key paragraph, that critical sentence, even the odd momentous footnote. The rationales undergirding various Supreme Court opinions receive not mere study, but valorization, worship, and occasionally even ridicule. However, this Essay contends that such claims wildly exaggerate the actual significance of judicial opinions.

Once upon a time, not that long ago, we had a pretty good explanation for why judicial review exists. The premise is that, for the most part, important decisions in a nation like ours should be made by politically accountable officials, not by courts. Unavoidably, though, there will be defects in the democratic political process. The role of the courts is to correct those defects, to the extent they can. One such defect is that some groups may not have their fair share of political power. If that is true, then the courts should intervene to protect that group. But this account is not quite right, and it is incorrect in a way that suggests a deep problem with judicial review today.

Department of State v. Muñoz was a critically important successor to Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization. In Muñoz, the Court continued efforts to shrink the protective force of the Due Process Clause. Even more significantly, the Court launched another attack on the equality principle undergirding cases including Loving v. Virginia. Through its rejection of substantive due process protections, the Court is intentionally weakening a broad swath of antidiscrimination protections and procedural due process rights.

The Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard College majority opinion has been widely misunderstood as a victory for those who believe in the “colorblind Constitution.” By juxtaposing the opinion’s main rule with the exception for admitting students based on essays that discuss students’ lived experiences with race, Robinson reveals the opinion’s fundamental incoherence, as well as its furtive race-consciousness. This examination reveals the chasm between colorblind rhetoric and the inescapability of racially-forged realities.

This Essay connects Students for Fair Admissions to two earlier moments in equal protection history. The first is Japanese American internment during World War II and the Supreme Court’s creation of the strict scrutiny doctrine. The second is the affirmative action wars that occurred in the 1980s and 1990s, which resulted in the current doctrine requiring strict scrutiny even for “benign” affirmative action. In all three moments—internment, affirmative action wars, and SFFA—Asian Americans were curiously exploited.

Implicit in inquiries about Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard’s relationship to precedent is an assumption about the affirmative action cases that preceded SFFA—namely, that Regents of the University of California v. Bakke and its progeny represented a victory for proponents of affirmative action. This Essay complicates that view. Our central claim is that Bakke contained many losses for proponents of affirmative action and that the specific nature of those losses set the stage for precisely the outcome SFFA instantiates.

Since the Supreme Court struck down race-conscious university admissions in 2023, magnet school admissions have become the next constitutional battleground for diversity in education. Harpalani illustrates how Asian Americans’ positioning intersected with litigation strategy and constitutional issues in Coalition for TJ v. Fairfax County School Board—an important recent ruling that deals with race-neutral public magnet school admissions policies. Harpalani aims to convince progressives to take anti-Asian animus more seriously, even as they support the admissions reforms that Asian American plaintiffs in several cases have challenged.

The Court’s unprecedented decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization relegated abortion regulation to a highly heterogeneous state institutional landscape. For lawyers, this institutional heterogeneity poses new questions of orientation, skill-building, and collaboration. In this Essay, Abrams examines the challenges facing lawyers in this new institutional landscape by focusing on one promising strategy for protecting abortion rights in conservative states: the initiative petition to amend a state’s constitution.

This article argues that amendment is the foundational if forgotten contribution of American constitutionalism. Adopting a written constitution requires making provision for its future by allowing for change: Americans devised that mechanism. The idea of constitutional repair, correction, and improvement through revision was so essential to the founding of the United States that it can best be described as a system of thought, which I call the philosophy of amendment and describe as the epitome of the eighteenth-century idea of progress.

Professor Lepore is issuing a timely and necessary warning about the need to think deeply about reforming our Constitution. The enemy, in this case, is not the British. Rather, it is ourselves, in our complacent unwillingness to engage with clear deficiencies of the present Constitution. She begins her essay with the extraordinary reminder that everything in the world is subject to decay, including the parchment on which the Constitution was originally written (for starters). That is true, of course, of the more abstract Constitution itself.

Professor Jill Lepore’s Jorde Symposium lecture paints a rich portrait of state constitutional conventions as engines of democratization during the 1800s and issues a dire warning about the United States’ ongoing amendment drought. Citing their unfamiliarity, however, Lepore declines to consider federal constitutional conventions as a possible corrective. In this response Essay, I argue: first, that Lepore’s marginalization of Article V’s convention mechanism is in tension with her own historical and normative account; second, that while Lepore’s wariness of conventions is entirely understandable given the state of our politics…

The Constitution, as I like to remind the students in my Constitutional Law I class, is very old, very short, and very vague. Among the 7,762 words of the Constitution are the twenty-seven amendments, the first and last of which were both proposed in 1789 but were ratified 201 years apart—the First Amendment in 1791, and the Twenty-Seventh in 1992.

Constitutional amendment has become irrelevant to most Americans of the twenty-first century—even to lawyers and leaders pursuing major systemic change. The most recent amendment was added to the U.S. Constitution in 1992, and that amendment was actually written two centuries prior. It has been nearly half a century since the last time Congress adopted an amendment and sent it to the states for ratification, which failed. What remains of the philosophy of amendment without any practice of it?

In the summer of 1854, the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society sent out word of a large gathering to be held at Harmony Grove in Framingham—sixteen miles from Boston—on the Fourth of July. For fifty cents, picnickers were offered “Special Trains” to and from the grounds.

In his essay Frederick Douglass and the Two Constitutions, Professor David Blight explores the constitutional thought of the nineteenth century’s great human rights advocate, statesman, and orator, Frederick Douglass. How should we understand, he asks, Douglass’s arrival at a natural rights interpretation of the 1787 Constitution?

Even in a century notable for oratory, Frederick Douglass’s capacities as an orator were astonishing. He was a master of words, whether spoken or written.

Thank you for inviting me to participate in this symposium. I want to thank David Blight, in particular, for this rich and provocative Essay. It was fascinating for me to learn that he has come over to the position of my friends James Oakes and Sean Wilentz, with whom I have argued about the concept of the antislavery American Constitution.