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The debate over marriage equality in the U.S. and Ireland, exploring the constitutional reasons against its introduction through national legislation in both countries. It also examines the political culture and prevailing political-constitutional dynamics that influenced the resolution of this issue through Supreme Court decisions in the U.S. and a national referendum in Ireland.
Typology: Lecture notes
1 / 32
T ABLE OF CONTENTS
I. INTRODUCTION ................................................................................. 682
II. YOU CAN’ T P LEASE EVERYONE .................................................... 683
III. P OLITICAL -CONSTITUTIONAL D YNAMICS .................................... 688
A. Why Marriage Equality Was Not Introduced by Way of Legislation .................................................................................. 689 B. Why Was a Court Decision Chosen in the U.S. and a Referendum Chosen in Ireland? .............................................. 692
IV. P OLITICAL CULTURE ....................................................................... 696
A. Religious-Moral Disputes ......................................................... 696 B. Fundamental Commitments and Constitutional Politics ....... 700
V. SETTLING THE A BORTION DEBATE (AT LEAST F OR NOW) ....... 703
VI. D ISCUSSION ....................................................................................... 707
I. INTRODUCTION
Marriage equality is a growing legal trend in the Western world.
Currently, twenty countries allow marriage between persons of the same
sex, and it is also legal in sub-national territories in several other coun-
tries (including the majority of the UK and large parts of Mexico). While
the introduction of marriage equality is of enormous significance for each
country and society in which it happens, developments have reached the
point where its legalization in a Western country is no longer especially
noteworthy on a global level.
Nonetheless, the two most recent countries to join the club (Ireland
and the United States) were the cause of some interest and discussion------
not so much because of the decision reached, but because of the means
by which that decision was taken. There are three possible ways in which
the debate on marriage equality may be settled. The most common route
is through the legislative process. In May 2015, Ireland became the first
country to introduce marriage equality through a national referendum
(which amended the Irish Constitution). The following month, the U.S.
became the first to do so directly through a national court decision (legis-
lation in some countries was prompted by court decisions, but in the
U.S., there was no legislative involvement).
Both Ireland and the U.S. were the subject of some criticism for set-
tling the marriage-equality debate in the way that they did. The use of
the courts in the U.S. was seen by some as inherently undemocratic, since
it restricted the decision-making power to just nine unelected judges. The
use of the referendum in Ireland was seen by some as almost too demo-
cratic, in that it used a purely majoritarian process to decide on whether
a minority group should enjoy a human right on an equal basis. If both of
these criticisms are taken seriously, it would be tempting to conclude that
the more commonly used legislative process is the most appropriate way
to decide whether marriage equality should be legalized. This process
gives expression to the democratic will of the majority, but also filters out
animus and prejudice by requiring representatives to explain and justify
their vote, and it affords minorities the opportunity to advance their in-
terests through deliberation, alliances, and bargaining.
This Article has two main arguments, both of which are grounded in
constitutional history: first, that the mechanism used for settling the mar-
riage-equality debate in each country was inevitable; and second, that it
was appropriate to that country. The resolution of the marriage-equality
debate followed established patterns in the search for a decisive victory
in a religious-moral controversy and has close parallels with the abortion
debate in each country. The fact that the legislative route has been used
in every other country where marriage equality has been introduced, and
that this route navigates a middle road between the opposing disad-
vantages of litigation and referenda, does not mean that it would have
been the appropriate route for either the U.S. or Ireland, where certain
fundamental political disputes tend to be resolved through constitutional
politics rather than ordinary politics.
Part II sets the scene by outlining the criticisms levied at the advent
of marriage equality by way of the Supreme Court decision in the U.S.
and by way of referendum in Ireland. Part III examines how major issues
are resolved in each country by comparing and contrasting their respec-
tive political-constitutional dynamics. Part IV explores political culture
and the tendency for certain issues with religious or moral implications to
become elevated from the realm of ordinary politics to constitutional
politics. Part V provides historical context by examining the path fol-
lowed by the abortion debate through the prevailing structures in the
U.S. and Ireland. Finally, Part VI concludes by considering the similari-
ties between the abortion debate and the marriage-equality debate in this
regard.
II. YOU CAN’ T P LEASE EVERYONE
In June 2015, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Obergefell v. Hodges
that laws excluding same-sex couples from marrying, or refusing to rec-
ognize same-sex marriages performed out of state, violated their right to
marry under both the Due Process and Equal Protection clauses of the
Fourteenth Amendment.^1 Four weeks earlier, in Ireland, the people vot-
ed in a national referendum to amend the Irish Constitution, stipulating
that ‘‘[m]arriage may be contracted in accordance with law by two per-
sons without distinction as to their sex.’’^2 As the old adage goes, you can’t
please all of the people, all of the time; and the criticism of the means
through which the marriage-equality debate was settled in the U.S. and
Ireland is a case in point.
The resolution of the issue by the Supreme Court in the U.S. was
considered by some as fundamentally undemocratic. Perhaps the best
example of this criticism is Justice Scalia’s dissenting opinion in Oberge-
fell , in which he called the decision a ‘‘judicial Putsch’’ that ‘‘robs the
People of... the freedom to govern themselves.... A system of gov-
ernment that makes the People subordinate to a committee of nine une-
lected lawyers does not deserve to be called a democracy.’’^3 Other judges
shared this view. Two weeks after Obergefell was decided, the Supreme
Court of Louisiana dismissed an appeal against a lower-court decision
striking down a Louisiana law precluding the recognition of same-sex
marriages performed out of state. 4 In a separate concurring opinion, Jus-
tice Knoll noted that she was ‘‘constrained to follow the rule of law set
forth by a majority of the nine lawyers appointed to the United States
Supreme Court,’’
5 but proceeded to decry the Obergefell decision: It is a sad day in America when five lawyers beholden to none and appointed for life can rob the people of their democratic process, forcing so-called civil liberties regarding who can marry on all Americans when the issue was decided by the states as solemn ex- pressions of the will of the people. I wholeheartedly disagree and find that, rather than a triumph of constitutionalism, the opinion of these five lawyers is an utter travesty as is my constrained adher- ence to their ‘law of the land’ enacted not by the will of the Ameri- can people but by five judicial activists.
6
Her colleague, Justice Hughes, went so far as to issue a dissenting opin-
ion (in clear violation of the Supremacy Clause of the U.S. Constitution^7
and classic Supreme Court decisions on supremacy^8 ).
This strident criticism of the resolution of contested claims about
moral issues by unelected judges, whose decisions are all but impossible
to reverse by democratic means, is a familiar one.^9 Justice Scalia often
made similar remarks in other contexts; for example, he also rejected the
legitimacy of the decisive intervention by the U.S. Supreme Court in the
abortion debate:
[B]y foreclosing all democratic outlet for the deep passions this is- sue arouses, by banishing the issue from the political forum that gives all participants, even the losers, the satisfaction of a fair hear- ing and an honest fight, by continuing the imposition of a rigid na- tional rule instead of allowing for regional differences, the Court merely prolongs and intensifies the anguish.^10
The above criticisms clearly cannot be applied to the marriage-equality
referendum in Ireland. In 2013, the Constitutional Convention, an as-
sembly consisting of sixty-six citizens, thirty-three elected representa-
tives, and an independent chairperson, recommended that the Constitu-
tion be amended to provide for marriage equality.^11 The Oireachtas (Irish
Parliament) voted overwhelmingly in favor of this amendment in 2015,
but in line with Article 46 of the Irish Constitution, the final say rested
with the people in a referendum held on May 22, 2015.^12 This process al-
lowed a contested moral issue to be directly resolved by a majority of the
people themselves (following deliberation by their elected representa-
tives), thus giving the losers the satisfaction of a fair hearing and an hon-
est fight. (Admittedly, this satisfaction was not universally shared;^13 but in
comparative terms, the process was still surely more satisfactory to op-
ponents of marriage equality than a court ruling would have been.)
Instead of being widely criticized as undemocratic, the referendum
was criticized by a significant number of commentators for being almost
too democratic, in that it used a purely majoritarian process to decide on
whether a minority group should enjoy particular human right on an
equal basis.^14 In West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette , Jus-
tice Jackson famously said that
[t]he very purpose of a Bill of Rights was to withdraw certain sub- jects from the vicissitudes of political controversy, to place them beyond the reach of majorities and officials and to establish them as
legal principles to be applied by the courts.... [F]undamental rights may not be submitted to vote; they depend on the outcome of no elections.^15
This statement was quoted with approval in the majority opinion of the
U.S. Supreme Court in Obergefell.^16 Indeed, an extensive body of schol-
arship has documented the danger posed to minority rights by direct-
democracy devices such as the referendum and the initiative.^17
In the lead up to polling day in Ireland, columnist Colette Browne
tapped into this line of thinking when she wrote in the Irish Independent:
The closer the referendum on marriage equality comes, the more uncomfortable I get with the notion of voting on other people’s right to marry------not because I don’t support the measure, or think the vote will fail, but because I don’t believe the rights of minorities should be the subject of a popular vote.... Would you feel com- fortable going door-to-door, begging, cajoling and pleading with the people you meet to be extended the same rights they currently en- joy? How would you feel approaching those doors not knowing if the people you meet were going to be supportive or abusive------ bracing yourself every time someone answers for the possibility that they find you, by virtue of your sexuality, disgusting?... This is why we don’t usually let majorities decide on whether minorities in soci- ety should enjoy the same rights we do------because very often those majorities are either indifferent, or hostile, to those groups. Minori- ties in societies are often marginalised and discriminated against precisely because of their status as ‘other’ or ‘different.’ This is where, ordinarily, the Constitution steps in.^18
These sentiments were captured in a campaign video called ‘‘Sinéad’s
Hand,’’^19 which depicted a well-dressed young man nervously knocking
on a door and asking an older man for permission for Sinéad’s hand in
marriage. He was then shown repeating the question at multiple doors,
composing himself as he approached a large apartment block, and asking
passers-by on the street along the way. The video concluded with the
question: ‘‘[h]ow would you feel if you had to ask 4 million people for
permission to get married?’’ In the event, the process of knocking on
doors asking for permission to marry was to play out in very real terms,
as members of the LGBT community and their allies conducted a large
scale canvassing effort in cities and towns around Ireland. 20
On the day of the referendum, UK-based journalist Saeed Kamali
Dehghan wrote in the Guardian newspaper that referendums are not the
right way to go, ‘‘especially when it comes to gay rights or in fact, any mi-
nority issues.... The idea that the majority can legitimise the right of a
minority is fundamentally flawed.’’^21 Even after the outcome of the refer-
endum, which was a clear victory for marriage equality (with 62% voting
in favor and a high voter turnout), the discomfort of many supporters did
not subside. Political scientist Omar G. Encarnación wrote in the Irish
Times that
Ireland’s referendum, however inspiring, is not a step forward for gay rights.... As gay activists have argued for decades, there is something inherently unseemly about putting the civil rights of any group, especially a historically oppressed one, to a popular vote. Most people could not conceive of doing so to ethnic and racial mi- norities or even women. So what makes gay people deserving of this particular indignity? 22
Similarly, Liam Weeks wrote that the use of a referendum ‘‘reinforce[d]
the idea that might is right and that we should be governed by the wishes
of the majority, whatever they might be,’’^23 while Brian Tobin character-
ized the process as ‘‘crude.’’^24 Opponents of marriage equality expended
considerable resources in portraying same-sex couples as inferior or un-
suitable parents, 25 and campaigners for marriage equality canvassing in
public places and door to door were regularly subjected to personal
abuse.^26 An LGBT helpline service experienced its busiest year ever, with
a huge spike in demand in the lead up to polling day from people seeking
support ‘‘to cope with the intensity of having their lives debated in public,
or to deal with negative attitudes expressed by family members or
friends.’’^27 Clearly, the human cost of the referendum was very significant
for members of the LGBT community.
If deciding on a controversy like marriage equality by court decision
is undemocratic, but deciding on it by referendum is too majoritarian,
what is the solution? It would be tempting to conclude that it would have
been more appropriate to settle the debate through the legislative pro-
cess. After all, in every one of the eighteen other countries that have in-
troduced marriage equality to date, the final action was taken by the leg-
islature (although occasionally at the urging of a court).^28 The legislative
route treads a line between the two extremes described above: it gives
expression to the democratic will of the majority, but also filters out ani-
mus and prejudice by calling on representatives to explain and justify
their vote, and it affords minorities the opportunity to advance their in-
terests through deliberation, bargaining, and coalition formation. 29 Of
course, the legislative process is not especially well-suited to protecting
minority interests,^30 but comparatively speaking, it is less prone to naked
majoritarianism than a referendum.^31
Tempting as it may be to conclude that marriage equality would
have been more appropriately introduced by way of legislation in the
U.S. and Ireland, this paper argues that such a conclusion would ignore
the constitutional history of each country. It is debatable whether the leg-
islative route would actually have been possible in either country; and
even if it would have been possible, it is questionable whether it would in
fact have been appropriate. Part III will explain the factors that militated
against the use of the legislative route in each country, as well as the fac-
tors that militated in favor of reliance on a court decision or a referen-
dum.
III. P OLITICAL -CONSTITUTIONAL D YNAMICS
As noted in the Introduction, the debate over marriage equality
may be settled by way of ordinary legislation, court decision, or constitu-
tional amendment (with a referendum being a common feature in consti-
tutional amendments on marriage equality to date).^32 This Part will ex-
plain how there were political-constitutional dynamics at play in the U.S.
and Ireland that militated against choosing the legislative route, notwith-
standing the fact that this is the route most commonly used around the
world. With the legislative route off the table, each country then had to
choose between a court decision or a constitutional amendment. Again,
there were political-constitutional dynamics that militated in favor of
each country choosing one route over the other. In using the term ‘‘polit-
ical-constitutional dynamics,’’ I refer to the interaction between constitu-
tional law and constitutional politics. The factors at play involve not just
constitutional rules, as elaborated in the text of the constitution and as-
sociated case law, but also political realities in how various political and
constitutional actors view the constitution and their role in interpreting,
applying, or amending it.
A. Why Marriage Equality Was Not Introduced by Way of Legislation
The first point to explore is that there were constitutional reasons
militating against the introduction of marriage equality by way of nation-
al legislation in both the U.S. and Ireland. While the right to marry has
long been recognized under the U.S. Constitution,^33 the regulation of ac-
cess to marriage has always been a matter for state law.^34 State laws gov-
erning marriage must comply with the U.S. Constitution, but they are
passed at the state, rather than federal, level; Congress does not have the
power to legislate in this regard.^35 While the Defense of Marriage Act^36
reserved federal recognition of marriage and its accompanying benefits
to marriages between one man and one woman, irrespective of whether a
couple was regarded as married under state law, and provided that no
state would be required to recognize a same-sex marriage that was treat-
ed as a marriage under the laws of another state, it did not purport to
place any restrictions on how states defined marriage. For constitutional
reasons, marriage equality could have been neither prohibited nor man-
dated on a nationwide basis in the U.S. by way of legislation enacted by
Congress. 37 The choice was between individual laws being passed in all
fifty states or a national solution consisting of either a constitutional
amendment or a Supreme Court decision validating or striking down
laws to the contrary. The paragraphs to follow argue that constitutional
Fails Due to Low Turnout , I NDEP. (Feb. 8, 2015), http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/ referendum-to-entrench-gay-marriage-ban-in-slovakia-overwhelmingly-supported-but-fails-due-to- low-10031769.html.
history played a key role in determining the eventual choice in favor of
the latter.
In Ireland, the prevailing view was that there was a constitutional
bar on legislation in favor of marriage equality, but the reasons are very
different and the position less clear-cut. Article 41.3 of the Irish Constitu-
tion of 1937 provides that ‘‘[t]he State pledges to guard with special care
the institution of Marriage, on which the Family is founded, and to pro-
tect it against attack.’’ 38 The term ‘‘Marriage’’ is not defined in the Consti-
tution and was certainly considered to be restricted to different-sex cou-
ples both at the time of drafting and for many years thereafter.^39 It is
well-established, however, that the Irish Constitution is a living constitu-
tion, the interpretation of which should evolve to reflect changing values
and conditions in society.^40 This principle has extended to judgments in
which constitutional terms have been given interpretations that clearly
depart from an accepted original meaning.^41 When the marriage-equality
debate began, there were conflicting views on the impact of the constitu-
tional provisions on marriage.^42
The courts had the opportunity to clarify the position in Zappone
and Gilligan v. Revenue Commissioners , in which two women who mar-
ried each other in Canada argued that their marriage should be recog-
nized under Article 41.3 on the basis of changed consensus on the mean-
ing of marriage.^43 In a confused judgment, the High Court accepted the
concept of the living constitution, 44 then briefly suggested, relying on
questionable use of authority, that Article 41.3 was an exception to the
general rule.^45 It ultimately relied on evidence of prevailing consensus
against same-sex marriage (in the form of a two-year old-statute provid-
ing that it was an impediment to marriage if the parties were of the same
sex) to reject the plaintiffs’ argument.^46 It is clearly possible to read the
decision as suggesting that the meaning of marriage under Article 41.3 is
determined by prevailing consensus, as reflected in the most recent legis-
lation on point; indeed, multiple legal commentators have taken this
view.^47 Moreover, there is a general trend in the Irish courts of deference
to legislative judgment on matters of social policy, with recent examples
including decisions declining to strike down or reinterpret the law gov-
erning the age of consent, 48 the legality of assisted suicide,^49 and the allo-
cation of parentage in surrogacy arrangements.^50 In each of these cases,
the Supreme Court, having reviewed the law, declared the matter a poli-
cy choice that was for the Oireachtas and not the courts to make. Ac-
cordingly, it seems reasonable to suggest that had the Oireachtas chosen
to enact legislation extending access to marriage to same-sex couples,
such legislation would have been unlikely to have been struck down as
unconstitutional by the courts.
But, for reasons that will be explored further in Part IV, this was not
the view the political and legal establishment took of the decision. On
the contrary, the Attorney General and politicians from all the major
parties read the decision as creating a constitutional impediment to the
introduction of marriage equality, meaning that a referendum (a prereq-
uisite to amending the Irish Constitution) would be the only route
through which marriage equality could be achieved.^51 Thus, as a practical
political matter (if not necessarily a legal one), the legislative route was
not a viable route to marriage equality in Ireland. The paragraphs below
will argue that constitutional history was a significant factor in creating
the conditions that led to a referendum becoming politically inevitable,
in spite of being legally avoidable.
The above analysis shows that there were reasons militating against
the use of legislation for introducing marriage equality in each country.
National legislation introducing marriage equality was not within the
powers of the U.S. Congress, and while it is arguable that it would have
been legally possible for the Oireachtas in Ireland, the political reaction
to the High Court decision on point made this impossible. With legisla-
tion off the table, marriage equality became squarely a constitutional is-
sue in each country. This left two choices for resolving the debate: court
decision or constitutional amendment. Why did the U.S. choose the for-
mer, while Ireland chose the latter? Constitutional history provides a
helpful explanation.
B. Why Was a Court Decision Chosen in the U.S. and a Referendum Chosen in Ireland?
In some ways, constitutional structures in the U.S. and Ireland are
very different. The U.S. is a huge federation consisting of fifty states,
with significant powers of government existing at both state and federal
levels. Ireland is a small unitary republic (slightly smaller in both size and
population than South Carolina) with a highly centralized government.
The U.S. model of the separation of powers, with completely separate
executives and legislatures at both state and federal level and features
such as executive veto, differs from Ireland’s Westminster-style integrat-
ed parliament and executive.^52 The combined effect of these differences
is that the normal, everyday politics of the two countries have relatively
few similarities.
There are far fewer differences, however, when it comes to major
national disputes that affect religious-moral questions with implications
for constitutional rights. A number of the fundamental features of the
constitutional structures of the U.S. and Ireland are very similar. Both
are liberal democracies, both systems operate under entrenched written
constitutions that are the supreme source of law, and both have full-
blown judicial review, under which judges may strike down legislation by
reference to vague language in constitutional rights provisions (or, in-
deed, by reference to unenumerated rights not even specified in the text
of the constitution itself). Each country has a history of significant mat-
ters of religious-moral controversy resulting in landmark Supreme Court
decisions, with numerous such decisions (for example on sodomy laws,^53
contraception, 54 and assisted suicide^55 ) containing distinctly similar rea-
soning.
When it comes to resolving matters of deep controversy, perhaps
the most pertinent difference between the political-constitutional dynam-
ics of the two systems relates to the mechanism for constitutional
amendment. As outlined by Article V of the U.S. Constitution, proposed
amendments must be approved by a two-thirds majority of both houses
of Congress and subsequently ratified by the legislatures of three-
quarters of the fifty states.^56 By contrast, in Ireland, amending of the
Constitution requires a simple majority vote in both Houses of the Oi-
reachtas followed by a simple majority of votes cast in a referendum.^57
It is clear that the U.S. Constitution is far more deeply entrenched
than the Irish Constitution. From a political perspective, there is near
universal consensus that Article V is effectively defunct. As long ago as
1985, Stephen Carter argued that the amendment process of Article V
was ‘‘very nearly a dead letter.’’^58 Bruce Ackerman has written about how
constitutional change is now achieved almost entirely through political
movements and transformative judicial appointments, observing that this
strategy is employed by Republicans as well as Democrats, notwithstand-
ing the former’s avowed preference for originalism. 59 He cautions that,
‘‘[w]hatever the future may hold, don’t expect big changes through for-
mal amendments. We the People can’t seem to crank out messages in the
way described by Article V of our Constitution.’’ 60 Accordingly, a suc-
cessful constitutional amendment was not a realistic goal for either side
of the marriage-equality debate. Proponents of marriage equality never
even considered it; and while it has been attempted more than once by
opponents, all such attempts have fallen well-short of success.^61
This contrasts significantly with Ireland, where constitutional
amendments are quite commonplace. The last time the U.S. Congress
submitted an amendment to the states that was successfully ratified was
1971.^62 Since then, only two amendments have secured a two-thirds ma-
jority in Congress------the last in 1978------and neither was ratified by the
states.^63 In the same period of time in Ireland, thirty-five constitutional
amendments have been passed by the Oireachtas, and twenty-seven of
these have been approved in the subsequent referendum. That is not to
say that it is easy to amend the Constitution in Ireland; in fact, several
amendments that were expected to pass have been rejected,^64 and the po-
litical establishment is quite wary of referendums for this reason. The
comparison is used simply to point out that the amendment process is
less demanding in Ireland than in the U.S., and that amendments are far
more commonplace as a result. This impacts the dynamic in constitution-
al politics, in that a constitutional amendment is a realistically available
solution to disputes in a way that cannot be said of the U.S. Part IV will
argue that there are additional reasons why this solution is often availed
of in particular types of disputes.
The other difference between the political-constitutional dynamics
in the U.S. and Ireland that impacts the resolution of constitutional con-
troversies is that the U.S. Supreme Court is significantly more politicized
than its Irish counterpart. Members of the court are nominated by the
executive in each country; the requirement in the U.S. that the nomina-
tion be approved by the Senate following a confirmation hearing is not
replicated in Ireland. But the real difference relates to what happens af-
ter appointment. It is now trite to observe that the U.S. Supreme Court is
a political institution as much as it is a legal one; the only real point of
disagreement relates to the extent to which this is a bad thing.^65 Some
scholars argue that the Supreme Court was always intended to be a polit-
ical institution^66 or that there is nothing surprising about its politiciza-
tion. 67 Others take a more pessimistic view: Eric Segall argued that the
politicization has reached the point where the Court is not really a court,
and the justices are not really judges.^68 On any account, it is clear that the
U.S. Supreme Court has been more than willing to play a key role in
shaping the law on matters of political controversy.
By contrast, while the Irish Supreme Court has gone through peri-
ods of being more or less activist or restrained, it has never been overtly
Dec. 27, 2016). Congress passed The District of Columbia Voting Rights Amendment in 1978; the rati- fication period ended August 22, 1985. Id.
political in the way that the U.S. Supreme Court is. Ronan McCrea has
observed that ‘‘Irish judges are not public figures in the same way as their
American colleagues... and judges’ decisions cannot be predicted by the
political complexion of the government that nominated them.’’ 69 In re-
cent years, the general trend has been one of consistent deference to the
legislative branch on matters of social controversy (as noted above).^70
Thus, while Irish courts have accepted that constitutional interpretation
should be informed by prevailing ideas and standards in society, and that
legislation considered constitutional at one point might be considered
unconstitutional later on, 71 the likelihood of a future Supreme Court de-
claring unconstitutional a law that excluded same-sex couples from mar-
riage was not a strong one. It was far more likely that future courts would
follow the approach adopted in Zappone and Gilligan and defer to legis-
lative judgment on the issue.
All of the above has a significant impact on the incentives surround-
ing political activism in each country. In the U.S., constitutional amend-
ments at the national level are an implausible goal, whereas the Supreme
Court provides fertile ground in which political claims can be cultivated
as constitutional arguments. The multiple layers of state and federal
courts that must be navigated en route to the Supreme Court make it
possible to fight the litigation battle on a broad front and to secure some
(perhaps many) minor victories or tentative answers that help shape the
argument before final judgment. No pragmatic interest group would tar-
get a constitutional amendment ahead of strategic litigation. Since strate-
gic litigation is a more attractive option, a constitutional amendment only
really becomes relevant as a means for opponents of those pursuing stra-
tegic litigation to preclude or reverse a court decision, as the marriage-
equality debate has repeatedly shown. Thus, while a constitutional
amendment might be targeted as a response to strategic litigation, it
would rarely (if ever) be pursued as a substitute for it. Even if strategic
litigation fails at first, it makes more sense to try again than to move onto
the even steeper hill of a constitutional amendment.
In Ireland, the situation is directly reversed: the Supreme Court is
often at pains to avoid (or at least to be seen to avoid) deciding political
questions, making strategic litigation more challenging than in the U.S.
Thus, proponents of marriage equality attempted it and failed.^72 Being a
small country, there is only one set of courts in which to pursue litigation,
and so there was little else that could be done by way of litigation in the
short term. On the other hand, constitutional amendments are a familiar
feature of the political scene in Ireland. They might not be an everyday
occurrence, but referendums on constitutional amendments have been
an almost annual event since the early 1990s,
73 making an amendment a
realistic (if ambitious) target on issues where politics and constitutional
law become entangled. Knowing that success was unlikely in either the
legislature or the courts, proponents of marriage equality instead target-
ed a constitutional amendment, with some groups campaigning for civil
partnership legislation as a stepping-stone. 74
IV. POLITICAL CULTURE
Understanding why the marriage-equality debate was settled by a
Supreme Court decision in the U.S. and by a referendum in Ireland, and
assessing the appropriateness of these processes, requires more than an
understanding of the prevailing political-constitutional dynamics; it also
requires an understanding of the prevailing political landscape and polit-
ical culture. Similar to a small number of other issues, marriage equality
is not just an ordinary political dispute in the U.S. and Ireland. Marriage
equality raises particular religious-moral issues, with the result that polit-
ical disagreement runs deeper than usual and transcends ordinary poli-
tics. This Part will explain how disputes of this nature interact with the
political-constitutional dynamic existing in the U.S. and Ireland, impact-
ing ordinary politics, judicial appointments, and constitutional amend-
ments. It also demonstrates that on certain fundamental points of disa-
greement, the loss of a battle tends to be seen as a waypoint rather than
an endpoint; each side of the debate will continuously seek to trump the
other until a decisive victory can be secured.
A. Religious-Moral Disputes
In many ways, politics in Ireland and the U.S. bear little resem-
blance to each other. The U.S. has long operated a two-party system with
a clear left-right divide, whereas Ireland has a multiplicity of political
parties, the two largest of which are both center-right. Voting in the U.S.
operates most commonly on a first-past-the-post basis (which lends itself
to clear majorities, especially in light of the two-party system), whereas
Ireland uses proportional representation by single transferable vote
(‘‘PR-STV’’) (which lends itself to coalition governments, especially in
light of the multiplicity of parties).^75
For all of these differences, the two countries share one very signifi-
cant commonality in their political landscape: in each case, there is a ten-
dency for particularly deep-seated political disagreement over a small
number of issues that have religious or moral implications. In the U.S.,
this has often been characterized as a ‘‘culture war.’’ 76 Some scholars ar-
gue that the extent of this culture war is exaggerated, and some even
question whether it actually exists.^77 To the extent that it does exist, how-
ever, it is clear that it is at its most intense on a small number of specific
issues with explicit religious-moral implications,^78 and issues like abortion
and marriage equality are, according to constitutional scholar Michael
Perry, at the epicenter of the culture war.^79 Indeed, the culture war has
been expressly referenced in Supreme Court jurisprudence around equal
protection for gay people.^80 The idea of a culture war is less prevalent in
Ireland, but nonetheless, the existence of what has been termed a ‘‘reli-
gious-conservative versus secular-liberal cleavage’’ in Irish politics^81 has
featured prominently in Irish political-science literature, and its impact
on constitutional politics has been particularly noted.^82
While the so-called culture war has transferred to party politics to a
reasonably identifiable degree in the U.S., the ballot box is neither the
only nor the decisive battleground. Staggered elections make it extreme-
ly difficult for one party, at the federal level, to hold all of the levers of
power at the same time.^83 Consequently, even if legislation is enacted ad-
vancing the worldview of one side or the other, it is susceptible to being
vetoed by the executive branch^84 or being invalidated by the courts.^85 In
the long run, the only branch of government that can make a decision
that is relatively durable is the U.S. Supreme Court.^86 In theory, its deci-
sions can be set aside by a constitutional amendment, but, as shown in
Part III, amending the federal constitution is next to impossible in prac-
tice (especially on an issue of religious-moral controversy). 87 It may
sometimes be possible to recast invalidated legislation so as to comply
with or circumvent the Court’s decision, 88 but this clearly does not apply
to a black-and-white question like whether same-sex couples have the
right to legally marry. The only realistic way of setting aside a definitive
Supreme Court ruling is for a later court to overturn it; but this takes sig-
nificant time, as well as consistently favorable developments in electoral
politics.^89 Thus, while religious-moral controversies will play themselves
out at lower levels of government, both sides will have one eye on an
eventual victory in the U.S. Supreme Court as an endgame that is likely
to endure for some time. The politicized nature of the Court, described
in Part II above, provides further incentive for this strategy.
Meanwhile, in Ireland, the religious-conservative versus secular-
liberal cleavage has not translated into party politics to any great extent,
and it has become increasingly difficult for either side of the divide to se-
cure a majority through electoral politics. The PR-STV voting system
makes outright majorities for individual parties a rarity;^90 even when a
party goes into Government with a clear manifesto position on a reli-
gious-moral issue, it has to negotiate a Programme for government with a
party that may have a different position. There is also limited scope for
the religious-conservative versus secular-liberal cleavage to play out in
the courts. As already noted, the Irish Supreme Court is significantly less
politicized than its U.S. counterpart. Supreme Court judges are political
appointees, but the religious-conservative versus secular-liberal cleavage
has not translated into judicial appointments or judicial ideology.^91 Thus,
unlike in the U.S., there is no incentive for either side of the cleavage to
seek to advance their worldview by securing constitutional change
through the vehicle of judicial appointments.
On the other hand, the process of amending the constitution by ref-
erendum has proven to be especially well-suited to the resolution of ma-
jor controversies situated on the religious-conservative versus secular-
liberal cleavage. This process has the obvious appeal of being a decisive
victory that cannot be amended by legislation or overturned by the
courts, but there are other reasons as well. Richard Sinnott argues that
the religious-conservative versus secular-liberal cleavage in Irish politics
finds greater expression in referendums than in party politics.^92 The ref-
erendum offers the possibility for the final decision on a religious-moral
controversy to be made directly by the people, without partisan disa-
greement among the political parties.^93 This serves to insulate the politi-
cal parties against the impact of a contentious debate. Parties are all too
eager to avail of this insulating effect, as was particularly evident on the
issue of marriage equality. Not content with leaving the decision to the
people, Fine Gael (the larger party in the coalition government) sought
to further distance itself by insisting that the issue be referred to, and
agreed by, the Constitutional Convention before committing to holding a
referendum.^94 (Notably, the same approach has now been adopted on the
issue of abortion).^95 It is common for Irish referendums on religious-
moral issues to proceed on a consensus basis;^96 by avoiding partisan disa-
greement, political parties can avoid being targeted for electoral retribu-
tion for their stance on the referendum, since all of the parties’ stance
was the same.
While the existence of specific constitutional provisions on point
means that social reforms, such as the introduction of divorce^97 or the lib-
eralization of abortion laws, 98 clearly could not occur without a referen-
dum, it was noted earlier that there were good grounds for believing that
a referendum on marriage equality was not legally necessary. That all po-
litical parties were so quick to take the view that a referendum was una-
voidable, in spite of voluminous legal commentary to the contrary, argu-
ably reflects an underlying preference in Irish politics for controversies of
this sort to be dealt with through the referendum process. In line with the
consensus approach described above, all parties agreed to support the
amendment.
The flipside of this is that religious-conservative groups have gained
more influence than they have in the legislative process. While such
groups may not have been happy with all aspects of how the marriage
referendum was conducted, the reluctance of political parties to adopt
clear competing positions on religious-moral issues leaves them feeling
even more voiceless and disenfranchised in electoral politics at present.^99
On the other hand, international evidence shows that where all political
parties are in agreement on a referendum proposal, the issue becomes
less of a partisan one and voters are inclined to take their cues from oth-
er factors or groups. 100 As a result, the record shows that religious-
conservative groups have succeeded in exerting significant influence on
the referendum process in Ireland, notwithstanding their comparative
lack of influence on electoral politics.^101 This helps explain why only a
handful of Oireachtas members voted against the passage of the mar-
riage-equality amendment through parliament, but over one-third of
Irish voters voted ‘‘No’’ in the referendum itself. It also illustrates how
the referendum process acts as something of a safety valve through which
the political parties allow disagreement along this political cleavage to be
ventilated without interfering with everyday politics.
B. Fundamental Commitments and Constitutional Politics
Certain political disputes------like the issues at the heart of America’s
culture wars, or those situated on the religious-conservative versus secu-
lar-liberal political cleavage in Ireland------go beyond ordinary politics.
They do not relate to people’s shallow, short-term commitments, which
might change rapidly and are expressed through laws that are easy to
change. By contrast, fundamental disagreements on issues like abortion
and marriage equality relate to people’s deep, fundamental commitments
to the kind of society they want to live in. These are the kind of commit-
ments that tend to find their way into a country’s constitution.^102 Laws
based on these fundamental commitments are made more difficult to
change to ensure that any amendments to them are also based on deep,
fundamental commitments, not just shallow, short-term ones. Ordinarily,
constitutional change can only be brought about by a particularly serious
political effort. The nature of the effort involved makes it clear to every-
one that the decision being made is a particularly serious one and sets it
apart from ordinary politics.^103 Arguably, when law reform takes place
that touches on issues at the epicenter of the culture wars in the U.S. or
situated on the fault line of the religious-conservative versus secular-
liberal cleavage in Ireland, ordinary politics would not suffice, even if
(strictly speaking) the debates on issues like abortion and marriage
equality could have been resolved without any recourse to the Constitu-
tion.
Moreover, on issues of fundamental disagreement on deeply held
beliefs, it is inevitable that each side of the debate will utilize every pos-
sible forum with the aim of securing a decisive victory. Interest groups
with deep-seated commitments on either side of the debate on issues like
abortion or marriage equality will not lightly abandon their pursuit of
victory and will explore every possibility of reversing any success
achieved by the other side. Nancy Knauer has likened the struggle over
marriage equality in the U.S. to a game of ‘‘paper, scissors, rock.’’^104 Pro-
ponents sought to use litigation in state courts to invalidate legislation;
whereupon opponents sought to use state constitutional amendments to
reverse or preclude court decisions; and finally, proponents used litiga-
tion in the federal courts to invalidate state constitutional amendments.^105
The intensity of the struggle is a function of the intensity of the dis-
agreement. The final goal towards which the struggle is orientated is a
product of the political-constitutional dynamics described in Part III
above: a politicized Supreme Court is, in practice, the final arbiter of
fundamental disputes in the U.S., whereas a referendum on a constitu-
tional amendment plays that role in Ireland. It is easy to be cynical about
the factors that have led to fundamental disputes being resolved in these
ways, but constitutional history shows that the practices are well-
established. Moreover, on disputes over deeply held views on issues like
abortion and marriage equality, there are good reasons for relying on
these established practices.
Because constitutional change is all but impossible by way of
amendment in the U.S., it is mostly achieved through Supreme Court de-
cisions. But this does not mean that change comes about easily: on the
las Greenberg et al. eds., 1993); Conor O’Mahony, If a Constitution is Easy to Amend, Can Judges be Less Restrained? Rights, Social Change, and Proposition 8 , 27 HARV. HUM. RTS. J. 191, 196---205 (2014).
contrary, it is often the product of a sustained political effort over a
lengthy period of time. An increasing number of prominent scholars ar-
gue that developments in the Supreme Court’s rights jurisprudence are
strongly influenced by developments in electoral politics. Jack Balkin has
argued that popular opinion, as expressed through elections, legislation,
and judicial appointments, influences the Supreme Court’s interpretation
of the U.S. Constitution over time.^106 Similarly, Bruce Ackerman argued
that the interpretation of the Constitution is shaped over time by politi-
cal movements that bring about landmark statutes and ‘‘superprece-
dents.’’^107 Barry Friedman characterized Supreme Court decisions as part
of a dialogue in which the Court fulfils the function of focusing and sus-
taining a debate, couching it in constitutional terms, and synthesizing the
views of society on the matter at hand. 108 No matter how the process is
described, the point is the same. A landmark Supreme Court decision on
a fundamental dispute, such as abortion or marriage equality, is not ordi-
nary politics------it is constitutional politics, through which the American
people resolve disputes over their deepest commitments. Everyone un-
derstands that the stakes are high and that the effort involved in chang-
ing direction is considerable; the final result will reflect both the depth of
this effort and (most likely) the views of the majority. People will disa-
gree as to the appropriateness of resolving disputes in this way, but for
now, it is how these things are done, and everyone understands this.
Since the Supreme Court is, in practice, the means through which consti-
tutional change is achieved, it can be argued that it is appropriate that it
should adjudicate disputes that relate to people’s fundamental commit-
ments.
Similarly, in Ireland, reliance on a constitutional referendum as the
means to resolve fundamental disagreements related to the People’s fun-
damental commitments serves the function of setting the issue apart as
constitutional rather than ordinary politics, and it requires a special ef-
fort over time in order to achieve change. The vehicle is different in the
U.S., but the journey and the destination are the same. A constitutional
amendment is a relatively durable way of settling the debate, but can on-
ly be achieved if a sustained effort over time can produce the necessary
ingredients of consensus among the political parties and a majority in the
referendum itself. While the process is more democratic than reliance on
the Supreme Court in the U.S., it is less well suited to the protection of
minority rights; but for good or for ill, it is how these things are done, and
everyone understands this. Again, since a referendum is the means
through which constitutional change is achieved in Ireland, it can be ar-
gued that it is appropriate that disputes that transcend ordinary politics
be settled by referendum.
V. SETTLING THE A BORTION DEBATE (AT LEAST F OR NOW)
The clearest illustration of why the marriage-equality debate was
settled by a Supreme Court decision in the U.S. and by a referendum in
Ireland can be provided by examining of the constitutional history of the
abortion debate in each country. This closely related (if not quite identi-
cal) religious-moral controversy has been addressed using the same
mechanisms, for the same reasons. In many countries, the legal position
on abortion is set out in ordinary legislation. 109 A brief examination of the
constitutional history of the U.S. and Ireland, however, shows how the
search for a decisive victory in a political dispute over a religious-moral
issue caused that issue to become constitutionalized. In the U.S., the
combination of a deeply entrenched constitution and a politicized Su-
preme Court led to the legal position being settled by a series of Su-
preme Court decisions.^110 In Ireland, the reluctance of the courts to get
involved, coupled with the relative ease of constitutional amendment and
the preference of politicians to allow the people to directly decide the is-
sue, meant that the legal position has been settled by a series of referen-
dums. 111
In the U.S., abortion has long been a flashpoint in the so-called
‘‘culture wars.’’ Up to the 1970s, the regulation of abortion was consid-
ered to be a matter for state law.^112 Some states allowed it, while the ma-
jority did not (unless necessary to save the life of the mother).^113 In 1973,
the Supreme Court ruled in Roe v. Wade that the right to privacy under
the U.S. Constitution precluded the enactment of laws prohibiting abor-
tion during the first or second trimester.^114 Of course, Roe did not entirely
settle the matter. The decision in Roe is probably the most controversial
decision ever handed down by the U.S. Supreme Court. Unlike decisions
in which the Supreme Court has reflected a trend in national consensus
and merely suppressed outliers,^115 the decision in Roe was handed down
at a time when the majority of states had laws similar to that which were
struck down. 116 Thus, rather than settling the abortion debate, Roe be-
came a point of departure.^117
In spite of the continuing controversy over Roe , Justice Ruth Bader
Ginsburg has opined that the Court’s error was one of timing rather than
of substance.^118 Roe may have gotten ahead of public opinion when it was
decided, but opinion polls in subsequent years have consistently shown
that a majority of Americans believe that the decision should not be
overturned. 119 Countless state and federal legislative enactments have at-
tempted to limit its scope, and presidential candidates and judicial nomi-
nees alike are routinely interrogated as to their views on the decision.
Nonetheless, its central finding------that the decision as to whether to have
an abortion is a private matter between a woman and her physician that
attracts constitutional protection------has survived intact. Its trimester
framework was later modified in Planned Parenthood of Southeastern
Pennsylvania v. Casey so as to allow for greater state regulation of abor-
tion, but its central finding was reaffirmed.^120
In effect, Casey became the decision that settled the debate (at least
for the time being). Neal Devins has argued that it stabilized state abor-
tion politics by providing a template that helps states determine what
types of abortion regulations can be constitutionally pursued, and estab-
lishing a standard sufficiently malleable that it can be applied to either
uphold or invalidate nearly any law that a state is likely to pass.^121 Devins
concluded that ‘‘forty years after Roe and twenty years after Casey , it
seems unlikely that there will be a fundamental political and popular rea-
lignment on abortion.’’ 122 In such a politically contested space, this is
quite a statement.
The history of the U.S. abortion debate illustrates the points made
in Part IV. The depth of disagreement caused the issue to transcend or-
dinary politics, and it ensured that both sides would pursue victory in
every possible forum. The debate has raged at all levels of government,
with bills being vetoed or struck down by courts on a regular basis, but
the principles established in Roe (as later modified by Casey ) have re-
mained constant. Given that a constitutional amendment was not a viable
prospect, a Supreme Court decision reflecting an emerging national con-
sensus was the only realistic means through which such a lasting solution
could have been reached in U.S. law.
The history of the abortion debate in Ireland is inextricably linked
to Roe. The privacy dimension of Roe built directly on the earlier deci-
sion in Griswold v. Connecticut , in which the Supreme Court first recog-
nized the unenumerated constitutional right to (marital) privacy and
used it to strike down state laws limiting access to contraceptives.
123 An
almost identical decision was reached by the Irish Supreme Court in
McGee v. Attorney General^124 in 1974, just one year after the U.S. Su-
preme Court’s decision in Roe. Immediately, pro-life activists in Ireland
perceived the possibility that a later Supreme Court decision could fol-
low the lead of the U.S. and extend the right to privacy to invalidate Irish
laws prohibiting abortion.
What differed in the Irish context was the means chosen for settling
the matter. Unlike in the U.S., the Irish Constitution is comparatively
easy to amend. 125 The Pro-Life Amendment Campaign (‘‘PLAC’’) was
established to bring about a constitutional amendment that would ex-
pressly protect the right to life of the unborn and preclude the legaliza-
tion of abortion by court decision. 126 While political parties in Ireland are
generally eager to avoid the abortion debate as much as possible, PLAC
was able to exploit a period of political instability to secure reluctant
election commitments to put the amendment to a referendum.^127 This oc-
curred in 1983 and, following a divisive campaign,^128 the Eighth Amend-
ment was approved by 67% of voters, inserting a provision reading:
‘‘[t]he State acknowledges the right to life of the unborn and, with due
regard to the equal right to life of the mother, guarantees in its laws to
respect, and, as far as practicable, by its laws to defend and vindicate that
right.’’^129
In a striking parallel to Roe , the Eighth Amendment did not bring
an end to the abortion debate in Ireland, but instead became the point of
departure. The political parties, having seen the toxic atmosphere pre-
vailing during the 1983 referendum, chose to avoid the issue as much as
possible for the next thirty years. No legislative framework was enacted
to clarify how the mother’s right to life (stated in the Eighth Amendment
to be ‘‘equal’’ to that of the unborn) was to be protected in cases where
the mother’s life was at risk. In the X Case in 1992, the Supreme Court
had to decide whether a fourteen-year-old rape victim who became
pregnant and was suicidal could terminate her pregnancy.^130 The Court’s
decision holding that termination was permissible immediately led to