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Target PracticeJustice Scalia sets his sights on New York Times Co. v. Sullivan.

Antonin Scalia. Click image to expand.It used to make me extremely anxious, all this newfangled out-of-court chattering the Supreme Court justices were doing about their plans for the law. I missed the old days, in which, if justices spoke at all beyond their published opinions, it was to wax rhapsodic about long-forgotten episodes in history or their similarly long-forgotten childhoods. These days, the justices have shown themselves willing to talk about a lot more than where they buy their cherries. And I'm coming around to the idea that's not such a bad thing.

The recent example I'm thinking about lurks on Page 77 of Norman Pearlstine's new book about anonymous sources, Off the Record. (Thanks to Slate's publisher, Cliff Sloan, for spotting it.) Pearlstine lays out the long American tradition of the free press and then—smack in the middle of discussing the landmark libel ruling of New York Times Co. v. Sullivan—he tosses in quite a parenthetical. He notes that "(In an interview, Justice Antonin Scalia told me that given the chance, he would probably vote to reverse New York Times Co. v. Sullivan.)" That's it. Next graf.

Sullivan was the 1964 decision that laid out a brand-new First Amendment test for protecting the publication of material about public officials; even false statements are famously protected unless they're made with "actual malice." This case represented a turning point in our speech law. While still hotly debated on the merits in law schools, it is 40-plus-year-old settled law. And while Scalia's certainly criticized the decision publicly before, it's quite something to see him allegedly going on the record to offer that he'd probably vote to overrule it, "given the chance."

Now before you go all Michael Newdow on the good justice—by which I mean filing all sorts of motions to keep him from ever hearing the next Sullivan-style case on the grounds that he's already prejudged it—let me make the case for restraint. I, too, have some problems with freewheeling discussions about reversing specific cases in advance. But in light of the court's recent term, I can't help but find Scalia's candor vastly preferable to the loaded silence of his colleagues.

Scalia has long been the exception to the silence rule. In 1996, with two euthanasia cases pending before the high court, he gave a speech claiming there was "no constitutional right to die." In 2003, he recused himself from hearing a landmark Pledge of Allegiance appeal (Newdow's case), probably because of a speech he'd given arguing that it had been wrongly decided by the court of appeals. Scalia knows a badly decided case when he sees one, and he just can't understand why he shouldn't get to say so.

One of the most interesting themes of this last term was the split between, on one side, Scalia and Justice Clarence Thomas—who appear quite willing, if not eager, to overturn old cases—and, on the other, Chief Justice John Roberts and Justice Samuel Alito, who appear inclined to leave old cases on the books while stripping them of any real force. If Scalia is increasingly of the view that he "doesn't believe in stare decisis, period," as he once claimed to be true of Thomas, then it's useful to know precisely which cases are on his chopping block. In fact, if the justices are prepared to discuss the cases they hope to overrule, maybe they'd also be open to laying out—for ease of bringing future litigation—the kinds of facts they'd like to see.

This isn't to say that there aren't worrisome aspects to Scalia's candor. When justices announce in advance and in the abstract which cases they'd like to overturn, the idea that they decide matters on a case-by-case basis is shattered. Abstract discussions with reporters about which cases might be fun to overrule in the future not only undermine the principles of judicial humility and minimalism, they also suggest that the all-important requirements of standing—the need for an actual "case or controversy" is convenient legal formalism. It signals that the justices are operating according to some broad ideological agenda, rather than confining themselves to deciding cases.

But maybe some of the justices really are operating according to some broad ideological agenda. Maybe the new Roberts Court is in fact committed to overruling decades' worth of "bad cases." If Scalia is willing to confess to that kind of project, I'd rather hear the battle plans than not. It's precisely the sort of candor that has been most lacking at judicial confirmation hearings, where each nominee instead takes the fashionable line that precedent is all but sacred. Insisting that you "have no quarrel with" a holding, or pointless talk of great, caped "super precedents," will get you confirmed, certainly. But it's no more honest than claiming that you have given keystone cases like Sullivan or Roe no serious thought throughout your legal career.

I've not always been totally kind to Justice Scalia, but more and more, I do enjoy his defiant public honesty. If the Roberts Court is poised for a protracted seek-and destroy mission, better to operate in Scalia's sunshine than in the dark. An open invitation to the other justices: Let us know what other cases you have in your sights?

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Dahlia Lithwick is a Slate senior editor.
Photograph of Antonin Scalia by Alex Wong/Getty Images.
COMMENTS

Remarks from the Fray Editor:

Pinning a lawyer to a position can be like wrestling the proverbial greased pig. That's why I'm enamored with this suggestion from Occasional Observer for restructuring Senate interviews of judicial nominees. Senators would hold up flash cards containing the names of landmark cases. Nominees would be compelled to describe their opinions of the case with one of four single-word answers: uphold, overturn, expand, or limit. I haven't reproduced it below, but this post from slasher_14 is also highly worth reading. —G.A.

Remarks from the Fray:

Implicit in Lithwick's piece is the notion that NY Times v. Sullivan is a liberal decision that liberals should circle the wagons around, lest the new conservative majority seek its reversal. I don't know if liberals should be too defensive about that case.

Even if one agrees with its basic premise in principle, I think the practical affect of Sullivan has been to encourage the likes of Rush Limbaugh and generally turn the media into a hysterical pack of gossipy wolves.

If conservatives succeed in reversing Sullivan, the result may be more civility in the media, which would probably help the ideology that is most robust when confronted with calm, intelligent argument. In my opinion, conservatism would be the loser in that new media world.

--zbird

(To reply, click here.)

Today, as we read and write this, some reporter and editor are reviewing a political advertisement the ad department has been asked to run by a local citizens group. This paid ad contains an important story. It's a story that could have immediate implications for readers. It's a story that includes serious accusations that a government official is acting in a way that could prove to be very damaging to citizens. Based on everything they've ever been told by anyone, the reporter and editor firmly believe every element of the story. There is nothing in what they have collected that raises any questions about the story. In an abundance of caution, they ask the legal department to review the ad. The legal department, giving a perfect application of New York Times vs. Sullivan, gives them the green light to publish.

The government official who is implicated in the ad brings suit. At trial, he raises the outlandish argument that New York Times vs. Sullivan should not control. Instead, he argues, the newspaper should be liable for negligence. They should not be protected by the rule that only punishes them for publishing what they actually don't believe about a public official. They should have to pay if reasonable journalistic efforts would have uncovered a contrary story.

This argument comes as quite a surprise to everyone else in the courtroom, not least to the reporter and editor, who were told, back when this thing was happening in the real world, that NYT/Sullivan protected them.

The trial judge and all the intermediate appellate courts scoff at the argument, and rule in favor of the newspaper.

The Supreme Court of the United States, however, in a landmark opinion by Justice Scalia, overrules NYT/Sullivan and sends the case back for a new trial.

At the new trial, the aggrieved public official gets a paid journalism professor from Local U to take the stand. He's got a tweed jacket and gray hair and half-moon glasses and a list of credentials as long as your arm, but he hasn't actually worked as a journalist in 3 decades. He testifies that a reasonable journalist would not have accepted this ad without waiting two weeks for blood tests or some such thing to come back. Every real journalist in the room laughs all night long at that whopper, but the jury eats it up, and renders a $1 million verdict against the newspaper.

That's what you're talking about when you talk about overruling NYT vs. Sullivan. That's what you're talking about when you propose overruling any long-settled precedent.

--RonB52

(To reply, click here.)

You have to be pretty naive to think that Supreme Court Justices have been studiously deciding cases only on a case-by-case basis, ignoring any future implications of their decisions, for the past 200+ years. Hello, Marbury v. Madison, anyone? In fact, I would think that any Justice that did not consider future implications of a decision would be pretty much negligent in his or her duties.

Is it really earth-shattering to learn that some Justices have cultivated a defined jurisprudence that guides how they approach cases? From Chief Justice John Marshall, the noted Federalist who stood athwart the plans of Thomas Jefferson and the Anti-Federalists, to Justices Holmes, Black, Brandeis, Brennan...the list is long. Typically, the more notable Justices were the ones who did have an ideology that stood out as compelling.

The only difference, it seems, is that Justice Scalia is willing to put his mouth where his quill is. The only thing this shatters is the silly notion that Supreme Court Justices -- the people who sit at the very highest chair in the federal judiciary -- simply don't think much about the law outside of whatever happens to land on their desk. If there was ever a position from where it would be most apt for someone to contemplate the whole of the law, the U.S. Supreme Court would be it. And I would hope that every Justice has had such thoughts during their tenure, if they weren't having them already. It's no secret that the Justices have pre-conceived notions about things, just like every other lawyer out there. Why should we pretend they are sphinxes?

--Sycamancy

(To reply, click here.)

(7/19)

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