I am greatly looking forward to participating toward the end of the month in a workshop on the thought of Sir Thomas More, to be held at the University of St. Thomas under the auspices of the excellent Murphy Center. But I wanted to point readers to a very worthwhile extended review by Louis W. Karlin (one of the conference’s conveners) of Travis Curtwright’s recently published The One Thomas More (2012). Because I am scheduled to teach Professional Responsibility in spring 2014 and am fixing to reconstitute the course substantially, I found the following in the review especially interesting. One issue I’ve always wanted to learn more about–and have thought might be rightly considered in a legal ethics course–is the relationship of equity to law and specifically the question whether equity may be understood as within law or instead as sitting outside it.
A particularly important aspect of Curtright’s study is his focus on More as a lawyer and jurist, demonstrating how More integrated his formative humanistic studies in classical literature with his professional career. Contemporary legal practitioners and scholars will find much to ponder in Curtright’s extended analysis of the organic connection between rhetoric and jurisprudence in More’s thought, as it is developed in readings of Richard III and Utopia. More believed that an education in the liberal arts, especially when combined with the study of law, informed and strengthened the practical judgment.
Curtright detects in More’s Utopia the foundations of a unique humanist jurisprudence. By cultivating one’s practical judgment through careful study of poetry, history and law, a would be lawyer or legislator can discern the highest ideals for human flourishing, while simultaneously recognizing the inherent limitations in human nature that militate against radical reform. More’s humanist jurisprudence reached its fruition in the expansion of equity jurisdiction that he championed and applied as a judge in the Chancery and Star Chamber courts to ameliorate the unfairness arising from strict application of legal rules under common law. For More, equity, as the application of practical reason according to conscience, did not give a judge license to ignore the law in favor or his own understanding of justice. Rather, equity provided a moderating, ameliorative function to be exercised to better the law’s intent.
The notion that a young humanist champion of utopian reform gave way to a conservative statesman is to mistake the voice of Utopia’s Raphael Hythloday for the author’s. As Curtright persuasively argues, the “real” More’s voice heard in The Life of Pico and Utopia is distrustful of “[s]ystematic answers to political problems,” advocating instead “engagement and accommodation applied toward modest goals” (86). Thus, in his jurisprudence, it is the “rigor of the law, not the law itself, that should be reformed.” As a judge and statesman, More distrusted radical reform in the manner of “sweeping Utopian legislation because More’s ideas of reform, such as they were, deal with the application of equity through conscience” (99). This did not reflect “‘an Augustinian belief in the total and helpless depravity of fallen man,’” as Elton thought (7). Rather, it follows from the same realization that inspired Dr. Johnson’s compassionate conservatism: “The Cure for the greatest part of human Miseries is not radical, but palliative.” (The Rambler, No. 32, July 7, 1750.)





Targeting, Unequal Application, and Free Exercise
This may be obvious to readers of this blog, but perhaps it’s worth noting anyway in light of the somewhat loose way in which news outlets sometimes speak of “constitutional violations.” Several places are reporting that non-profit organizations with religious affiliations are complaining that they were dealt with improperly by the Internal Revenue Service.
I want first to emphasize that I do not know whether the allegations are true. I strongly suspect that nobody who is likely to comment on my post will know that information. For purposes of this post, I will only assume that they are true, in order to inquire about whether groups with these complaints, under such circumstances (and again, if true), would have a cause of action under the Free Exercise Clause (I am leaving RFRA to the side).
Most readers are familiar with Employment Division v. Smith, which held that neutral laws of general application do not violate the Free Exercise Clause even if their impact especially burdens a religious person or group. A subsequent case, Church of the Lukumi Babalu Aye, Inc. v. City of Hialeah, involved a particular religious group’s plans to create a new house of worship where they would engage in ritualistic animal sacrifice. In response to these plans, the City enacted various ordinances prohibiting animal sacrifice, but exempting pest control measures, hunting, kosher slaughtering, and private slaughtering of hogs and cattle. The ordinance outlawing “sacrificing” an animal defined sacrifice as “to unnecessarily kill, torment, torture, or mutilate in a public or private ritual or ceremony not for the primary purpose of food consumption.” The Court struck down these ordinances as violations of the Free Exercise Clause.
How might these cases apply here? Suppose that the government’s explanation for delaying and/or denying a particular group’s application for tax-exempt status was that the group “is not educational” or “is political” or “does not present all views.” As to religion, this sounds like a facially neutral rule under Smith. The government could in theory apply a prima facie rule that says, “No groups will receive tax-exempt status unless they are educational, a-political, and representative of all views” without violating the Free Exercise Clause as interpreted by Smith (of course, it would be violating other provisions of the Constitution, but I am focusing specifically on free exercise).
Things don’t end there, though. One might think that the problem is not one of facial neutrality, but instead of discriminatory motivation. The complaint would be that the rule isn’t really neutral at all because the motivations of the government were to target particular religious beliefs. But though it is often thought that Lukumi rested on the ground of discriminatory motivation or “targeting,” it did not. Only two Justices–Kennedy (writing for the majority) and Stevens (who joined him on this point)–relied on the history of the adoption of the ordinances to reach the conclusion that they were motivated by the City’s desire to suppress or stamp out religious groups that it disliked. The real ground of decision did not have to do with discriminatory motivation, but with unequal application of the law. The question here would be–given the admittedly religion-neutral purposes of the law (education, a-political qualities, viewpoint inclusion), is the law being applied in a way which disvalues or is unfair to religious beliefs? A law which is applied selectively against religious groups cannot be “narrowly tailored” to the government’s aims, and the failure of that narrow tailoring in turn suggests that the government’s interest in the laws is not compelling. Subjective motivations are not relevant in this sort of inquiry; only the record of the law’s aims and application is.
One might wonder whether this difference is important. A law that is motivated by the desire to “target” religious groups will generally fail to be narrowly tailored to achieve a compelling state interest. But not always. A law might “target” religious conduct on the ground that the religious conduct presents special dangers. Suppose a religious group has a ritual in which it tests its members with a “leap of faith” off a fourth-floor balcony. After five people have died, the town enacts a law which forbids people from jumping off of buildings. That law might be motivated by the wish to “target” this religious conduct, and the law likely would be valid even if nobody but members of the religious group engaged in the conduct. But a different question arises if the law proscribes certain dangerous conduct that is religiously motivated but continues to allow equally dangerous activity that is not motivated by religious belief (tightrope walking across two skyscrapers, for example). Take away the “dangerous” (to humans, that is) and this is what was happening in Lukumi. The difference does not, at least according to Lukumi, have to do with the subjective motivations of the “targeting” legislators, but with the extent to which unequal application of the law evinces a devaluation of religion.
In like fashion, it seems to me that with respect to the IRS situation, the issue for purposes of a Free Exercise Clause claim would turn not on evidence of the government’s subjective intention to “target” particular religious groups, but on the ways in which a putatively neutral law or rule was applied to religious and non-religious applicants for tax-exempt status alike.
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Posted in Commentary, Marc O. DeGirolami
Tagged Constitutional Law, Free Exercise Clause, Religious Discrimination