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In this Note I undertake a historical survey of the conceptual predecessors to the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges or Immunities Clause, from the sixteenth century through the mid-nineteenth century. By doing so I present a different angle on the potential significance of this provision, which merits revisitation as a clause bearing meaningful judicially cognizable rights, despite its effective foreclosure under the Slaughter-House Cases. Because of the open-ended and adaptive quality of this enigmatic phrase and its preceding variants, it bore a wide range of significances over the centuries. Indeed, as this Note also demonstrates, one can trace critical moments in early American history alongside varying uses of this phrase, further indicating its previously evolutionary quality. In its earliest forms, it implied the British Crown’s support for the development of colonies in the New World, and soon thereafter, it served as a vehicle for establishing individual rights akin to those of the Magna Carta. It also generated newfound rights that provided justification for the American Revolution and was used to advance unity among the states of the new nation, especially for the sake of economic development.

In the decades prior to the Civil War, its meaning was shaped by the pressing issue of slavery. Justice Bushrod Washington’s limiting construction of the Privileges and Immunities Clause in Corfield v. Coryell, I propose, was centrally informed by the debates leading to the Missouri Compromise, in which slaveholding as a protected right under privileges and immunities was a key point of contention. Because Corfield implicitly truncated the basis for asserting a right to slaveholding via privileges and immunities, the Court in Dred Scott, dominated by Southern justices, focused on excluding access to such rights based on immutable characteristics.

The Southern preference for broad rights and narrow access, however, was definitively defeated through war. It is thus uncertain whether a historically informed meaning of the Privileges or Immunities Clause necessarily turns on the disputes in the decades immediately leading to the Fourteenth Amendment’s ratification—which would suggest a fixed and narrow construction aligned with Corfield—or whether the deeper, evolutionary history of privileges and immunities lends a meaningful gloss on the clause, counseling a broader and more expansive interpretation. The Fourteenth Amendment’s legislative history is ambiguous at best, providing fodder for both possible readings.

While confronting these uncertainties, this Note draws from a historical method not previously deployed for the purpose of grasping the fuller meaning of this constitutional provision: It undertakes a longue durée approach, accounting for the variations of this phrase’s significance across time and as affected by a dynamic multiplicity of inputs. Most claims regarding the meaning of this clause tend to pinpoint one or several moments in its long history as the “true” origin point(s). A historical sense of privileges and immunities derived through this method, however, indicates that reaching a determination on the breadth of rights conveyed through this provision entails the resolution of a close call, requiring careful sifting of historical data, perhaps paired with other constitutional principles and policy considerations.

The Supreme Court’s decision in Loper Bright Enterprises v. Raimondo calls on courts to apply a broad range of rules of statutory construction instead of engaging in a deferential inquiry about whether an agency’s views are reasonable. Courts of appeals face the question how to apply their new interpretative responsibilities in the absence of Chevron deference. This Essay argues that courts of appeals must now apply the long- standing rule of strict construction of deportation statutes, also known as the immigration rule of lenity, which provides that ambiguities in deportation statutes be resolved to limit the sanction of deportation. This Essay shows that the Court developed the rule of strict construction of deportation statutes as a substantive check against the harsh consequences of deportation statutes. It further shows that the Court treated it as a strong substantive rule that applied to ambiguous statutes, even in situations where the agency’s position found support in its contemporaneous interpretation of the statute. By 1966, the Solicitor General as well as majority and dissenting Justices treated the rule as settled, leaving only the question whether a particular statutory provision contained an ambiguity sufficient to trigger the rule in the case before the Court. This established rule of strict construction is supported by the same justifications as the criminal rule of lenity and is further supported by unique aspects of deportation statutes, which typically have no statute of limitations and may apply retroactively. While much remains to be seen about how courts will apply their interpretive powers in the wake of Loper Bright, the rule of strict construction of deportation statutes has the pedigree of a strong substantive rule that ought to be considered fully in determining the scope of deportation laws.

In light of the Supreme Court retrenching on certain rights in recent years, more Americans are paying attention to state constitutions. This moment therefore offers an opportunity to explain why scholars, lawyers, and ordinary citizens should take state constitutions as seriously as they do the U.S. Constitution, and consider studying them an intellectually rewarding and important endeavor. In this essay, I attempt to do that. Earlier in our history, state constitutions helped define what it meant to be American. Through the process of drafting and interpreting constitutions, prior generations decided what popular sovereignty meant, who qualified as part of “the people,” and what “liberty” meant. The U.S. Constitution has proven resistant to change because of its difficult amendment process. But state constitutions are in the process of changing as we speak. Engaging with them gives us an opportunity to decide questions like what popular sovereignty and liberty mean in the twenty- first century. That is to say, studying state constitutions allows us to contribute to the ongoing discussion about what America means in the twenty-first century in a way no other area of law does. In this essay, I also argue that there are three practical benefits to approaching state constitutions from this perspective: (1) increasing respect for state constitutions; (2) ensuring constitutional stability and avoiding constitutional crisis; and (3) preserving American democracy.

Longstanding constitutional commitments appear to ensure rights to remedies for “every person.” Nonetheless, courts were once exclusionary institutions contributing to the maintenance of racialized status hierarchies. Twentieth-century civil rights movements pushed courts into recognizing the authority of diverse claimants to pursue their claims. These movements also succeeded in legislatures, which invested in making constitutional obligations real through statutory entitlements, jurisdictional grants, and funding for tens of hundreds of courthouses, judgeships, and staff.

Courts thus became icons of government commitments to legal remedies, as well as battlegrounds about the authority of government to regulate power, both public and private. In this essay, I explore how the federal courts became the source of “our common intellectual heritage,” why it is difficult to bring sustained attention to state courts, and why doing so has become pressing as economic inequalities in state and federal courts undermine adjudication’s legitimacy.

Many of the new rights-holders had limited resources. Asymmetries in dispute resolution make aspirations to provide fair and equal treatment difficult. Because courts are public sites, the disparities are patent—bringing to the fore the problems facing litigants and courts. For some, responses lie in augmenting the capacity of courts to make good on their promises as information-forcing, conflict-exposing, and information-disseminating institutions. For others, the goal is to limit access to courts and undercut the legitimacy of their processes and outcomes. Illustrative is “Judicial Hellholes,” which is the name of a yearly publication attacking jurisdictions in which plaintiffs succeed in obtaining remedies.

To clarify the normative stakes of conflicts over “rights to remedies” in “open” courts, I focus here on the infrastructure of state and of federal courts and data on users and needs. Filings in both federal and state courts have, in recent years, declined, while concerns about self-represented litigants and the inaccessibility of courts have risen. I argue that the legal academy needs to take on “class” (as in economic wherewithal) in courts and that Congress needs to provide fiscal support for both federal and state courts, on which enforcement of law depends, and I address the challenges of
doing so.

Recent scholarship persuasively argues that state constitutional law should be grounded in state-centered reasoning, not federal imitation. That approach, compelling at the 10,000-foot level, also requires development through examples closer to the ground. This symposium Article uses legislative vetoes—arrangements in which legislators can override executive action without passing new laws—to explore the practice and adjudication of state structural constitutionalism.

The first surprise about state legislative vetoes is that they exist at all. Legislative vetoes have been a dead letter at the federal level since the Supreme Court’s decision in INS v. Chadha forty years ago. State courts, it turns out, have also overwhelmingly rejected legislative vetoes. But the mechanisms live on in some states due to constitutional amendments, statutes that have not been litigated, and occasional evasion of court rulings. The resulting state legislative vetoes sometimes serve as powerful forces in state governance or entrenchment mechanisms for gerrymandered legislatures. They are also a variegated rather than monolithic category, involving different powers and actors across the country and over time. In all of these ways, legislative vetoes help us see the practice of state constitutional structure as negotiated, evolving, and complex.

Turning from practice to doctrine, the state case law shows the operation—and value— of a state-centered approach, even when state and federal constitutional provisions are superficially similar. State courts could simply lockstep with Chadha on the ground that state and federal constitutions alike make law through bicameralism and presentment and distribute power among three branches. But many state courts have made greater use of context and realism, extending their reasoning beyond formalist (or functionalist) horizontal classifications of power as legislative, executive, or judicial.

Building on that foundation, this Article argues that Chadha’s holding will often be correct at the state level, but for different reasons. Horizontal classifications alone do not capture when and why legislative vetoes are problematic. Review rooted in state constitutions’ commitment to democracy can complete the explanation of why state courts have rejected legislative vetoes, especially vetoes by mere legislative committees. Policymakers, advocates, and proponents of constitutional amendments can all participate in steering legislative oversight away from anti-democratic designs.

Of course, none of this—neither the nuances of practice nor the doctrinal distinctiveness—would be apparent if we think of legislative vetoes only through existing federal frames. Ultimately, the underappreciated story of state legislative vetoes underscores the importance of studying the states on their own terms.

In Moore v. Harper, the Supreme Court rejected the extreme proposition that state legislatures operate free from state constitutional constraints and judicial review when they regulate federal elections. The Court, however, left open the possibility that a state court might run afoul of the federal Constitution if, in striking down or construing state election law, it exceeds “the ordinary bounds of judicial review.” This Article explores the potential scope of that exception, and it proposes arguments and strategies to guard against undue and disruptive federal court intrusion on state election law. In particular, the Article relies on longstanding principles of federalism to develop substantive and procedural arguments that insist on federal court deference to state courts’ interpretation and application of their own law.

Less than two years after the Supreme Court in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization overturned Roe v. Wade, the landmark decision recognizing a right to choose abortion, a campaign to reverse Dobbs and reestablish a new right to reproductive autonomy has taken shape. This emerging strategy deploys what this Article calls state constitutional incrementalism: an effort to chip away at a federal precedent by scoring wins in state supreme courts.

This Article explores the promises and perils of state constitutional incrementalism, using reproductive rights, both past and present, as a critical case study. It traces the history of antiabortion incrementalism, with special attention to state courts, and then explores how contemporary abortion-rights advocates have drawn on the lessons of the past (among others) to reverse engineer this campaign in the present day. Two incrementalist strategies have emerged in state court as a result: efforts to secure state constitutional protections for abortion and to highlight the inadequacy of exceptions to state abortion bans. These efforts are incremental in more than one sense. None of them directly challenge federal precedent. In the short term, however, both promise to change the reality on the ground, state by state. And both can set the stage for a later challenge to a federal precedent.

A complicated picture of the costs and benefits of state constitutional incrementalism emerges from this study. State constitutional incrementalism can offer powerful evidence of the internal contradictions and unworkability of state precedents that echo a federal decision or state laws that a federal precedent permits. State constitutional incrementalism also facilitates experimentation with different jurisprudential foundations for constitutional rights. These experiments can afford a rare glimpse of the real-world efficacy of different approaches to liberty and equality. And a critical mass of state constitutional decisions can provide evidence of an “evolving,” popular understanding of the constitutional protections that may also matter in the federal context.

At the same time, however, the success of state reproductive-rights incrementalism, much like the fight to reverse Roe, will depend a great deal on the responsiveness of state courts to popular mobilizations for constitutional change. History shows that the incrementalist campaign to undo Roe owed as much to gerrymandering, efforts to deregulate campaign spending, and strategies to limit access to the vote than it did to lower court victories or incrementalist litigation. A new effort to restore reproductive rights will have to attend as closely to the same kinds of structural change.

Legal scholars have long debated the President’s authority over administrative agencies. However, these narratives have ignored that Presidents have assumed directive control for decades—via the National Security Council. This Note fills that void in two ways. First, it provides a historical account. It reviews available national security directives and assesses their role in instigating administrative action. It reveals that, over time, Presidents have increasingly invoked these directives to mold domestic and economic policy. Second, this Note evaluates national security directives under three models of presidential authority: the unitary executive theory, Justice Elena Kagan’s notion of implied statutory authorization, and Professor Kevin Stack’s requirement of explicit statutory permission. It determines that all three theories sanction the President’s deployment of national security directives to control agencies and shape domestic affairs. This Note concludes that by providing a firm constitutional and statutory footing from which a President can dictate administrative action, national security directives are a powerful and expanding presidential tool.