


































Study with the several resources on Docsity
Earn points by helping other students or get them with a premium plan
Prepare for your exams
Study with the several resources on Docsity
Earn points to download
Earn points by helping other students or get them with a premium plan
1 / 42
This page cannot be seen from the preview
Don't miss anything!



































Jack M. Balkin * and Sanford Levinson **
Through most of its history, the Thirteenth Amendment has been interpreted extremely narrowly, especially when compared to the Fourteenth Amendment and the Bill of Rights. The Thirteenth Amendment has been read in this way because it is “dangerous.” The demand that “neither slavery nor involuntary servitude... shall exist within the United States,” taken seriously, potentially calls into question too many different aspects of public and private power, ranging from political governance to market practices to the family itself. Our contemporary association of “slavery” with a very limited set of historical practices is anachronistic and the result of a long historical process. Yet at the time of the founding, the concept of “slavery” was far broader than currently understood. “Slavery” meant illegitimate domi- nation, political subordination, and the absence of republican govern- ment; “chattel slavery” was only the most extreme and visible example of slavery. The broader, antirepublican concept of slavery was narrowed to avoid awkward comparisons to the economic and political subordina- tion of wage laborers and women. Once chattel slavery was abolished, labor activists and suffragists sought to revive the older, broader concept of “slavery.” But emancipation allowed defenders of the status quo to insist that American society was now “free.” Even today, calling an injustice “slavery” is generally seen as overheated hyperbole and even a presumptuous insult to the memory of the victims of African American chattel slavery. This Essay concludes by asking how our political imagination has been limited as a result of this history.
1460 COLUMBIA LAW REVIEW [Vol. 112:
One of the ironies of the U.S. Constitution is that although it was clearly designed to accommodate the interests of slaveholding states, the word “slavery” first appears in the Constitution in the Thirteenth Amendment, which claims to abolish slavery forever. Given its text—and the background context of 250 years of American history—the Thirteenth Amendment seems to portend a major transformation in both law and society: “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly con- victed, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”^1 Moreover, Section 2 of the Amendment gave Congress its first new enumerated power since 1787: the “power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation.”^2
What is noteworthy, however, is that although the text of the Thirteenth Amendment seems to promise much, it has, over its 150-year lifespan, delivered remarkably little beyond the initial elimination of African American chattel slavery. With few exceptions, the United States Supreme Court has read the Thirteenth Amendment, and especially Section 1, quite narrowly, at least in comparison to other amendments— including, most significantly, its immediate successor, the Fourteenth.^3 Consider, for example, Justice Sandra Day O’Connor’s 1988 summary of Thirteenth Amendment doctrine: “The primary purpose of the Amendment,” O’Connor explained, “was to abolish the institution of African slavery as it had existed in the United States at the time of the Civil War, but the Amendment was not limited to that purpose.”^4 What else, then, is included? O’Connor explains that the addition of the ban on involuntary servitude “was intended to extend ‘to cover those forms of compulsory labor akin to African slavery which in practical operation would tend to produce like undesirable results.’”^5 Thus, O’Connor con- cluded, “our precedents clearly define a Thirteenth Amendment prohibition of involuntary servitude enforced by the use or threatened
1462 COLUMBIA LAW REVIEW [Vol. 112:
Thirteenth Amendment were taken as seriously as the Fourteenth has been taken, one would expect considerable political and legal efforts to make sense of its underlying purposes and apply its terms (and purposes) to new situations. Just as the Establishment Clause has been read to ban more than state-sponsored churches or government-salaried ministers, and the Free Speech Clause to protect all manner of expression, one would have asked how best to make sense of the terms “slavery” and “in- voluntary servitude” in a modern world. But, as United States v. Kozminski demonstrates, precisely the opposite has occurred. In the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence, at least, the more limited the meaning of these terms, the better.
Part I of this Essay describes the multiple and overlapping reasons why the Thirteenth Amendment has been read far more narrowly than the Fourteenth Amendment and the Bill of Rights. Part II explains why interpreting the Thirteenth Amendment in the same way contemporary interpreters read the Fourteenth Amendment or the Bill of Rights is “dangerous.” The demand that “neither slavery nor involuntary servitude
... shall exist within the United States,” taken seriously, potentially calls into question too many different aspects of public and private power, ranging from political governance to market practices to the family itself. Indeed, the Thirteenth Amendment’s ban on “slavery” is the flip side of Article IV Section 4’s guarantee of “republican government,”^12 another clause with enormous potential reach that has effectively been read out of the Constitution (and, not coincidentally, out of the standard canon of constitutional subjects taught at America’s law schools^13 ).
Part III explains that our contemporary association of “slavery” with a very limited set of historical practices is anachronistic and the result of a long historical process. The language of the Thirteenth Amendment is taken from the 1787 Northwest Ordinance.^14 Yet at the time of the founding, the concept of “slavery” was far broader than currently under- stood. “Chattel slavery” was only the most extreme and visible example of “slavery,” which meant illegitimate domination, political subordination, and the absence of republican government. American colonists repeat- edly argued that the British Empire had made them slaves because they
common law civil rights protected by Civil Rights Act of 1866, and little more, and should be so interpreted today); Raoul Berger, Selected Writings on the Constitution 185 (1987) (“[T]he uncontroverted evidence, confirmed in these pages, is that the framers [of the Fourteenth Amendment] repeatedly stated that the amendment and the Civil Rights Act of 1866 were ‘ identical ’... .”).
lacked political freedoms and political representation in Parliament.^15 This eighteenth-century view opposing slavery to republicanism survives in Cold War arguments equating communism and totalitarianism to slavery and in twenty-first-century Tea Party rhetoric attacking big gov- ernment.
Part IV describes how the broader, antirepublican concept of slavery was narrowed during the fight for abolition for political and strategic reasons. Southern defenders of slavery taunted abolitionists by arguing that wage workers in the North and in England were equally slaves, and early suffragists argued that women were also unjustly subordinated. These critiques gave abolitionists incentives to maintain a sharp divide between chattel slavery and other forms of economic subordination, as well as the treatment of women. Once chattel slavery was abolished, labor activists and suffragists sought to return to the older, broader under- standing of “slavery.” But emancipation allowed defenders of the status quo to insist that American society was now “free.” Normal, everyday aspects of economic and family life could not be “slavery,” which was by definition the worst of evils and had already been eradicated by law. Today, calling an injustice “slavery” is generally seen as overheated hyperbole and even a presumptuous insult to the memory of the victims of African American chattel slavery. This Essay concludes by asking how our political imagination has been limited as a result of this history.
I. T HE J URISPATHIC TREATMENT OF THE T HIRTEENTH A MENDMENT
The legal historian Robert Cover famously called processes that produce multiple legal doctrines and interpretations “jurisgenerative,” and processes that cut off lines of development “jurispathic.”^16 The Fourteenth Amendment is one of the most jurisgenerative parts of the Constitution. Yet there is little doubt that the history of the Thirteenth Amendment (and its twin, the Guarantee Clause) has been decidedly jurispathic.
Why has the Thirteenth Amendment been treated so differently from the Fourteenth? There are many overlapping reasons. Part of the explanation lies in the history of Reconstruction and its subsequent disparagement as the price of political reunion by Northern and Southern whites.^17 Moreover, precisely because the Thirteenth
it would be unconstitutional to buy or sell (for-profit) corporations, auction them off in public markets (sometimes called stock exchanges), or liquidate them in the interests of profit.^22
Ironically, even the most determined opponents of slavery may have contributed to the Amendment’s neglect. In Amy Dru Stanley’s important book From Bondage to Contract , she points out that even such notable and courageous abolitionists as William Lloyd Garrison believed their work was largely over once chattel slavery was abolished: “Where are the slave auction-blocks,” Garrison exclaimed, “the slave-yokes and fetters.... They are all gone! From chattels to human beings.... Freedmen at work as independent laborers by voluntary contract!”^23
In Nothing but Freedom: Emancipation and Its Legacy , historian Eric Foner notes that all societies that have ended slavery have struggled over the meaning of the freedom that emancipation brings.^24 The title of his book is taken from the comment, by Confederate General Robert V. Richardson, that “[t]he emancipated slaves own nothing, because noth- ing but freedom has been given to them.”^25 This was not merely the view of ex-rebels. Horace Greeley, the editor of the New York Tribune , fancied himself an avid opponent of slavery.^26 Yet Greeley dismissed calls for giv- ing the freed men “forty acres and a mule” because it would have re- quired the confiscation of slaveholders’ land and redistribution to for- mer slaves.^27 This, he argued, was “either knavery or madness.... People
1466 COLUMBIA LAW REVIEW [Vol. 112:
who want farms work for them. The only class we know that takes other people’s property because they want it is largely represented in Sing Sing.”^28 Southern blacks were relegated to the market with no resources besides their own labor, which white employers sought to control and exploit through labor contracts.
As Stanley notes, one of the recurrent debates within the tradition of “social contract” theory is whether freedom of contract gives individuals the right to make binding contracts that would effectively make them slaves and forfeit their liberty.^29 Although most theorists did indeed place a limit on what people could contract to, some did not; for the latter, contracts for slavery were no different from any other presumptively arm’s-length transaction between consenting adults.^30 Versions of this tension sometimes appear in modern-day contracts courses. The principle of freedom of contract—and the concomitant rejection of principles of unconscionability and duress—when taken to an extreme, undermines confidence in an unregulated market’s ability to deliver genuine freedom for all. That is especially so in a society with vast disparities of income, wealth, and bargaining power. Once the direct ownership of human beings is abolished, this is the question raised—and the danger posed—by the Thirteenth Amendment.
Pete Daniel, for example, notes how freedom of contract gradually developed into a system of peonage that ensnared Southern blacks after the Civil War: Lacking land or capital of their own, blacks had little choice but to sign yearly contracts.... As military control became less strict in the South, a labor pattern emerged. Most blacks signed annual contracts. Improvident, they took advances on their ex- pected share of the crop. When settlement time came the next fall, the laborers often discovered that their share of the crop did not cover what they owed the supply merchant or the planter.... [S]ome planters demanded that workers remain until they had worked out their entire debt, and when planters used indebtedness as an instrument of compulsion, the system became peonage.^31 Foner and Daniel both indicate that peonage depended on the for- mal mechanism of contract, supplemented by the use of the criminal law to punish its breach. In the peonage cases at the turn of the twentieth
1468 COLUMBIA LAW REVIEW [Vol. 112:
Amendment did not bar “tyrannical” legislation as such,^35 also dissented in Bailey v. Alabama. Alabama had created a legal presumption that any- one who ceased work after signing a contract for long-term employment and accepting an advance of wages had intended to defraud the em- ployer and could be criminally punished for doing so, even though the accused was not permitted to testify to rebut the statutory presumption.^36 In Holmes’s view, such a law was simply a means of ensuring that con- tracts were enforced by creating proper incentives.^37 As such, Holmes believed that Alabama’s law was as much within the legislature’s power as New York’s decision to limit the maximum hours of bakers. “Peonage,” Holmes explained, “is service to a private master at which a man is kept by bodily compulsion against his will. But the creation of the ordinary legal motives for right conduct does not produce it.”^38
To be sure, after emancipation, some activists made connections be- tween the ban on slavery and the constitutional claims of the populists and the labor movement,^39 and still later on, the constitutional claims of the twentieth century movement for black civil rights.^40 However, it was the legal equivalent of swimming upstream against a vigorous current. Risa Goluboff has shown how Thirteenth Amendment claims were offered on behalf of black sharecroppers in the middle of the twentieth century, but these theories were eventually abandoned.^41 The NAACP’s legal strategy focused instead on undermining the logic of Plessy v. Ferguson ’s “separate but equal” doctrine by bringing cases aimed at segre- gation in colleges and professional schools; it naturally focused on the interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment.^42 In this strategy, the Thirteenth Amendment and the constitutional demand of freedom from oppressive working conditions did not fit particularly well.^43
Later social movements, building on the NAACP’s example—and the equal protection jurisprudence spawned by Brown v. Board of Education^44 —continued to focus on the Fourteenth Amendment rather than the Thirteenth.^45 In what might be a self-fulfilling prophecy, succes- sive waves of social movements have gravitated to the Fourteenth Amendment, even though in theory they could also have used the con- cepts of nondomination and self-sufficiency implicit in the Thirteenth Amendment’s prohibition against slavery.
Even so, it is not surprising that interest in the Thirteenth Amendment, and in particular the Enforcement Clause of Section 2, would make somewhat of a comeback during the civil rights revolution, when all three branches of the federal government got behind the movement for black civil rights. In a trio of cases, Jones v. Alfred H. Mayer Co. ,^46 Griffin v. Breckenridge ,^47 and Runyon v. McCrary ,^48 the Warren and early Burger Courts held that Congress had extensive powers to reach racial discrimination (and later discrimination based on national origin and ancestry^49 ) under Section 2 of the Thirteenth Amendment. What the Supreme Court did not do, however, was offer much discussion of the substantive meaning of Section 1. Rather, it broadly read Congress’s powers to remedy the “badges and incidents of slavery,”^50 a phrase taken from the 1883 Civil Rights Cases , which had construed Congress’s powers far more narrowly.
secure republican government has, for the most part, lain unused.^55 Both clauses have been limited because both are “dangerous”: Their potential reach seems unlimited and, taken to their logical conclusions, they might require a serious rethinking of public and private power in the United States.
Sanford Levinson has recently published a book emphasizing the difference between the “Constitution of Conversation,” which consists of those clauses actively litigated and subjected to endless discussion in the legal academy, and the “Constitution of Settlement,” referring to a vari- ety of textual provisions that establish our basic political structures and that are never litigated because their meanings are deemed “self-evident” as a practical matter.^56 There is a third possibility, though: the “Constitution of Silence,” consisting of those clauses of the Constitution that could be remarkably important, but which contemporary lawyers, judges, and scholars have, for one reason or another, chosen to ignore. The Thirteenth Amendment is perhaps the best example of the Constitution of Silence, along with such other provisions as the Guarantee Clause,^57 the Titles of Nobility Clause,^58 and the Bill of Attainder Clause.^59 The point is not that these clauses are irrelevant to modern life; rather, the point is that, taken seriously, they might be alto- gether too relevant.
Guarantee Clause is nonjusticiable while holding that courts may review state legislative reapportionment schemes under Equal Protection Clause); Pac. States Tel. & Tel. Co. v. Oregon, 223 U.S. 118, 148 (1912) (“The fundamental doctrines thus so lucidly and co- gently announced by the court, speaking through Mr. Chief Justice Taney in the case which we have thus reviewed, have never been doubted or questioned since... .”); Taylor v. Beckham, 178 U.S. 548, 578 (1900) (“It was long ago settled [by Luther v. Borden ] that the enforcement of this guarantee belonged to the political department.”). Although Luther has come to stand for the general proposition that the Guarantee Clause is nonjus- ticiable, it could—and should—be read far more narrowly. See Jack M. Balkin, Living Originalism 241–42 (2011) [hereinafter Balkin, Living Originalism] (“[ Luther v. Borden ] holds only that some kinds of claims—those involving recognition of governments and deciding when domestic violence requires intervention by federal troops—are best deter- mined by the political branches... .”).
1472 COLUMBIA LAW REVIEW [Vol. 112:
But precisely why is the concept of slavery in the Thirteenth Amendment so dangerous? There are several different overlapping rea- sons. First, the focus of the Thirteenth Amendment seems to be society as a whole, not merely state power. All of the Justices in the Civil Rights Cases noted that the Thirteenth Amendment contained no state action re- quirement;^60 for the majority, this was a reason to restrict its power and scope. As Justice Bradley (in)famously explained, “It would be running the slavery argument into the ground” to allow Congress to prohibit ra- cial discrimination in places of public accommodation.^61
Bradley’s metaphor suggests that calling these forms of race discrim- ination unjust domination would discredit the principle of eliminating the badges and incidents of slavery. But the reason it would discredit the principle is that it would discomfit too many whites. By 1883, many whites, in both the North and the South, had accepted the Compromise of 1877 that had ended Reconstruction and returned political power to white elites in the South.^62 Desiring sectional peace, Northern white majorities either acquiesced to—or actively supported—the unfettered return to power of white majorities in the South who were committed to white privilege and black inferiority.^63 Moreover, as Michael Les Benedict has observed, other factors drove the Compromise of 1877 as well. Northern white elites increasingly feared what they perceived as the threat of “socialism”—demands by freed blacks and their white sympa- thizers for redistributive programs.^64 Elites feared that newly empowered majorities would be led astray by “[w]eak-minded sentimentalists or cor-
1474 COLUMBIA LAW REVIEW [Vol. 112:
guarantied to the blacks the right of buying, selling and holding prop- erty, and of equal protection of the laws. Are not these the essentials of freedom? Surely a white lady cannot be enforced by Congressional en- actment to admit colored persons to her ball or assembly or dinner party.”^71 To be sure, “[t]he [Thirteenth A]mendment declares that slav- ery and involuntary servitude shall be abolished, and that Congress may enforce the enfranchisement of the slaves. Granted: but does freedom of the blacks require the slavery of the whites? [A]nd enforced fellowship would be that.”^72
This gives Bradley’s famous metaphor an unexpected meaning: “running the slavery argument into the ground,” would, like a plow, un- earth or dig up features of social life that many whites wanted to main- tain unquestioned and unchallenged. Unearthing these aspects of social life was dangerous precisely because it would undermine a basic com- promise underlying the Reconstruction Amendments. Blacks were enti- tled to civil equality, such as the right to make contracts and own prop- erty, but not social equality—that is, the right to associate with whites as equals.^73 Even if blacks were equals in the abstract, whites should remain their superiors in civil society.^74 Hence Bradley’s horror at the thought that white women would have to mix with blacks, and his conflation of places of public accommodation with private dances and dinner parties.
Social inequality was justified as a feature of personal privacy—an inevi- table consequence of private preferences and human nature—and was defended both in law and in constitutional doctrine. To dig up and ex- pose these aspects of social life to criticism made the slavery argument— and the Thirteenth Amendment itself—far too dangerous.^75
This leads to a second reason why the Thirteenth Amendment is so dangerous. The idea of slavery, focusing as it does on nondomination and self-sufficiency, can apply to many different societies, including modern ones. Nineteenth-century critics called slavery a form of barba- rism (sometimes coupling it with polygamy), implying that slavery was a feature of premodern or ancient societies.^76 But domination and en- forced social dependency do not disappear in modern societies. They merely reappear in new guises, sometimes through public power, some- times through private power, and sometimes through a combination of both. One does not have to be a Marxist to recognize that unregulated capitalism might create its own forms of domination and oppression to replace the chattel slavery of older societies. Nor does one have to be a Hayekian to recognize that unchecked and unaccountable government power can reduce citizens to new forms of servitude. If domination can exist within markets and welfare states alike, and can be reproduced even in social systems that promise formal equality, then domination will ap- pear—and reappear constantly—in modern societies.
Furthermore, eliminating pervasive and overlapping forms of domi- nation might call for remedies that give people self-sufficiency, like the famous redistributive formula of “forty acres and a mule” for the former slaves that sent Horace Greeley into livid fury.^77 If so, then once again it might undermine market capitalism, making the attack on slavery as dangerous to market-based liberalism as it is to traditional status hierar- chies.
Third, once it is acknowledged that “slavery” need not be identical to or closely resemble African chattel slavery, the attack on slavery might threaten not only modern capitalism and the modern state, but also any number of traditional social formations and traditional status relations.
interpretation of Congress’s powers—would give the federal government broad new powers to attempt to reshape both law and society.
The connections between slavery and republicanism—with its triple focus on nondomination, self-sufficiency, and the accountability of power—and the potentially (and dangerously) broad scope of the con- cept of slavery have always proved too much for American judges and politicians to stomach. As a result, both the Thirteenth Amendment and the Guarantee Clause have been cabined and limited throughout the country’s history—so that they do not require too much of either public or private institutions. It is well worth asking what is gained and what is lost by this jurispathic treatment.
III. T HE R EPUBLICAN ORIGINS OF THE T HIRTEENTH A MENDMENT
The language of Section 1 is taken from Article 6 of the Northwest Ordinance of 1787: “There shall be neither slavery nor involuntary servi- tude in the said territory, otherwise than in the punishment of crimes, whereof the party shall have been duly convicted... .” 80 Congress had used similar language in two 1862 acts, ending slavery first in the District of Columbia and then in all federal territories.^81 Senator Charles Sumner’s proposal, borrowing language from the French Declaration of Rights of 1791, would have provided, “All persons are equal before the law, so that no person can hold another as a slave; and the Congress may make all laws necessary and proper to carry this article into effect everywhere within the United States and the jurisdiction thereof.” 82 But this language was quickly rejected by the Senate. Senator Jacob Howard objected that the equality formula was “utterly insignificant and mean- ingless,”^83 adding nothing to the abolition of slavery.
One might think that the decision to reject Sumner’s language should be quite significant: It would mean that the Thirteenth Amendment merely ends slavery but does not secure equality of any kind. But this does not appear to be what congressional Republicans ac- tually believed. In the brief congressional debates over the Thirteenth Amendment, and later again in the much longer debates over the 1866 Civil Rights Act, Senators Lyman Trumbull (the author of the Thirteenth
1478 COLUMBIA LAW REVIEW [Vol. 112:
Amendment) and Jacob Howard insisted that they did not disagree with Sumner on matters of substance.^84 They believed, like many other Republicans, that once blacks were free, they became citizens, and there- fore enjoyed equal civil rights under the law.^85 To be sure, this was not the universal view: Senator Edgar Cowan disagreed—in his view the Amendment granted only freedom, not equality of any sort.^86 But the idea that ending slavery meant citizenship and equal civil liberty was common among Republican supporters of the Thirteenth Amendment and the 1866 Civil Rights Act.^87 And therefore it is no surprise that the Civil Rights Act was written specifically to secure citizenship and equal civil rights.
Rather, Trumbull and his allies preferred the language of the Northwest Ordinance for a number of reasons. First, unlike Sumner’s proposal, the language of the Ordinance had no foreign associations. 88 Second, the Northwest Ordinance had deep connections to the American political tradition.^89 These concerns are reminiscent of current debates about the use of foreign materials in constitutional interpreta- tion, except that in this case the issue concerned drafting constitutional text, and not interpreting it.^90
Third, and perhaps most importantly, the Northwest Ordinance of- fered familiar language that most supporters of the Amendment could agree on. During his debate with Sumner, Trumbull emphasized the