(An Engineerist Approach to Theories of Judicial Review)
If the law is indeed not unlike an operating system, providing what could be the only scalable solution to the tragedy of the commons, then a survey of some of the more influential commentary on judicial review is a glimpse of the “core code”- the base architecture from which everything else is built upon. Or, to be more moderate about it, a nifty feature set responsible for output like Marbury v. Madison, Roe v. Wade, and Lawrence v. Texas.
Hamilton’s pitch for a federal judiciary vested with the power of review is something an engineer or a programmer could relate to. Instead of basing the doctrine of judicial review on Lord Coke’s tenuous appeal to natural law and higher reason, Hamilton puts it forward as a concrete solution to the “unfolding defects of the existing Confederation”, a real-world requirement for a system predicated on popular sovereignty: That controversies, including those that involve the boundaries of coordinate branches of government, are settled peaceably, reasonably, and with finality—to resolve critical deadlocks and keep the system from crashing.
Yet from a strictly functional, “engineerist” approach, judicial review is an anomaly in a system built upon the emergent consensus of a body politic’s majority: A minority of appointed, tenured officials reversing the action of popularly elected representatives is difficult to reconcile with the basic parameters of republicanism. Left unchecked, Bickel predicts that the contradiction will sap the marrow out of responsible representative democracy. Te very notion of a judge-constituted “guardian class”, no matter how enlightened that class may be, diminishes our individual and collective stake in the government as a common venture. With its legitimacy suspect (or at best merely implied) in a populist system, judicial review is to be used with restraint. As a court cannot save a society that has sunk so deep as to require saving anyway, the court should husband its power and prestige by steering clear of “dirty”, expediency-based policy determination. Instead, it should embrace passive virtues and stick to principled determination and reasoned, if not pedagogical elaboration for which it is best equipped.
Rostow, thinking otherwise, maintains that democracy is a broad enough concept to afford a potent amount of discretion to unelected officials—judicial review included. The functional requirements of a democracy—that of maximizing freedom for individuals—should be the standard instead of any rigid formula for what constitutes a democracy. Some aspects of this requirement cannot be met by popular representation alone (minorities, out of state interests, etc.) These are often urgent requirements that could represent an escalating probability of systemic failure if they are not resolved in a rational manner. Rostow points by way of example that the courts’ forays into civil rights, rather than leading to a frustration and breakdown of society, actually restores its equilibrium through either its redistributive function vis-a-vis marginal groups, or its pedagogical ability to catalyze discussion and enlightenment among the majority.
Having explored the outlines of the what and the why, the next relevant question is how? In what manner shall this elegant and terrifying prerogative be used? Thayer finds the answer in the power’s nebulous origin and contentious growth: Without the benefit of an explicit textual committment or a transcendent natural principle to justify its existence, judicial review is to be used sparingly: Only to the extent necessary to preserve rights in the face of a clear overstepping of constitutional boundaries. This requires standards of restraint and avoidance to prevent unnecessary friction with coordinate agencies: Standards like the assumption of legislative good faith, and deferring constitutional construction in favor of determining only whether or not a particular legislation is sustainable.
Thinking along similar lines, Jackson emphasizes that the Court is essentially a conservative counterweight against the inherent dynamism of perpetual revolution via elections. To prevent the frustration, buildup, and violent outburst of that dynamism, Jackson espouses limiting the scope of judicial review to tactical, “legal” distribution of individual rights as opposed to broad policy determination more suitable to the legislative or executive.
Herbert Wechsler, reacting to Judge Learned Hand’s thesis that a weakly justified power should be withheld by the discretion NOT to decide, counters by saying that judicial review is necessitated by the supremacy clause. With that textual commitment, the Court should adjudicate a constitutional case before it once it passes through the threshold requirements of standing, non-mootness, ripeness, etc. The only question is how. Decisions, according to Wechsler, must be principled—i.e. based on general reasons that look beyond immediate result. Not only does he buy the “separate is inherently unequal in public schools” ruling in Brown v. Board of Education, he is unable to find a neutral principle behind the Courts decision. Tentatively, Wechsler provides one for himself: that of “freedom of association”. However, such a principle would result in a paradox where “…integrated schools forces an association upon those to whom it is…repugnant.” Between imposing and denying association, he is unable to find a higher principle that would justify either.
It is at this point that theories of judicial review come to a head with an engineer’s brutal pragmatism. The problem with using neutral principles is in choosing what principle (and its accessory values), gets to be the “superior one”, to the exclusion of others. The slippery slope is that the Court should apply that superior set of principles across the board, with factual circumstances a secondary consideration, and consequences a poor third. When Wechsler reduces Brown to a matter of principled decision-making, stripped of the historical context of slavery and discrimination, or considerations of the consequences of continued discrimination, there seems to be both practical and moral equivalence between segregation and integration. The urgency of discrimination as a real-world problem disappears behind the wand of logic.
An engineer would realize that although pure structural consistency is desirable in the ideal, as a practical matter it is secondary. He would look for “good enough” in any solution, because he can ill-afford any ideological delusion attendant to having chosen the “right” principle. Solutions would have to involve real-world trade-offs and the rigors of real-world use. Push any parameter to ideal levels and the rest of the system unravels. The totally secure server is too slow. The totally safe building costs too much. The fastest airplane cannot land properly. The totally principled decision based on “freedom to associate” would not solve the real-world problem of under-representation of minorities in schools.
When sea-changes occur, and challenges that are without precedents arise, how are neutral principles to cope? An engineerist approach based on consequences would at least be more willing to admit when it’s made a mistake, and then repeal a law or overturn a decision once it’s been found to be harmful. But if a legal system is based on neutral principles, change could only come through the discovery of higher, broader principles—which seem to be in short supply lately.
Of course, this begs the question of what is considered “harmful” or “beneficial”. Fortunately, an engineerist approach does not need to find a higher moral basis to justify a particular configuration, including judicial review’s place in it. Suffice it to say that we as a society have chosen a certain basic set of standards for behavior by our citizens and will use the power of the state to impose punishment on those who violate those standards. The standards derive power from our collective decision to select them and our willingness to expend society’s resources to enforce them, thus they too do not require any reference to any kind of absolute standard. If any broader philosophy is needed, we have chosen such in our Constitution in terms of goals:
To build a just and humane society
Establish a Government that shall embody our ideals and aspirations…
To secure to ourselves and our posterity the blessings of independence and democracy…
The only question is whether or not the Court and the power of judicial review is a “good enough” solution for those requirements, overall. The Court, being only human, has certainly been susceptible to error. A long-term examination of its decisions would show that it has oscillated through various degrees of interventionism, moralism, even downright stupidity. It has, to its credit, been self-correcting and adaptive even without any neutral principles or absolute standards. It is that flexibility which allows judicial review—and our Constitutionalism as a whole—to remain a viable function amidst changing times.