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Op-Ed

Age of Scalia: inspirational passion for law, written word

Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia’s courtroom chair has been draped in black to mark his death, part of a tradition that dates to the 19th century. Scalia, who died Saturday at age 79, joined the court in 1986 and was its longest-serving justice.
Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia’s courtroom chair has been draped in black to mark his death, part of a tradition that dates to the 19th century. Scalia, who died Saturday at age 79, joined the court in 1986 and was its longest-serving justice. Associated Press

Prominent in my chambers is a black and white photograph almost 30 years old. It is a portrait of the Supreme Court’s newest justice and a young law student. This moment in time was captured long before the much-debated opinions of the justice had been drafted. And long before the student could ever have predicted his own path in the law.

I love being reminded of that day — the day I introduced Justice Antonin Scalia to my classmates on the Kentucky Law Journal, because I love being reminded of the hopefulness and promise of that youthful season. For me, it is a north star that all lawyers of a certain age need that points back to the reason we went to law school in the first place. That reminder, after the success and failures of life, of the noble aspirations of what we do.

Academics will no doubt build entire careers around studying the jurisprudence of Justice Scalia. Some already have. And I’ll leave that task to those trained to critique. But surely this is common ground: no other justice in our lifetime has brought more intellectual vigor, passion and rhetorical strength to the business of “say(ing) what the law is.”

Scalia demanded that the work of the judge be based around a principled and rigorous intellectual framework. If you agreed with his modest role for the judiciary, then his work provided a robust and ambitious defense. For those that disagreed, most prominently some of his colleagues on the court, Scalia demanded a robust and ambitious counter.

And in that, as lawyers, we are all better. At some fundamental level many of us were attracted to the study of law because we believed that ideas do in fact have consequences — consequences for governments and those embroiled in disputes and those charged with crimes. When that is the work you are called to do you need voices that inspire you to do it with passion. That was Justice Scalia’s voice.

Listen to it: “As its instrument of destruction, the bulldozer of its social engineering, the Court invents a boundless, and boundlessly manipulable, test of psychological coercion … Today’s opinion shows more forcefully than volumes of argumentation why our Nation’s protection, that fortress which is our Constitution, cannot possibly rest upon the changeable philosophical predilections of the Justices of this Court, but must have deep foundations in the historic practices of our people.”

That, from a dissent in a case interpreting the First Amendment, accomplishes what good arguments always accomplish. It makes us want to read what the writer has to say. You have to love words to write like that. And you have to love ideas and want to be their champion to do that work so well.

Scalia was not the first nor will he be the last to elegantly and powerfully advocate for a particular point of view from the nation’s highest court. But I came of age as a lawyer inspired by his craft. To be honest he had not only a modest view of the work of judges but also the work of lawyers. But he never ever underestimated the genius of the Constitution or the important business of the bench and the bar of protecting it.

There would be other brief conversations over the years. Upon introduction, Scalia was kind to my children. And at one Washington reception just after President George W. Bush’s re-election, there was a wish to “enjoy the next four years,” with that famous grin, more of a wry smile, that suggested he knew that he had had at least some role in making it all possible.

That voice — that decent, brilliant and confident voice. Quiet now. Silence that almost always comes too soon.

Tomorrow, the nation pays its respects to Justice Scalia under the azure dome of a great basilica. Then, on we go. Forward, but for me holding close the memory of the persons in the photo, taken long ago. Not just the one that inspired, but also the one filled with hope and promise.

Gregory F. Van Tatenhove is a United States District Court judge for the Eastern District of Kentucky.

This story was originally published February 18, 2016 at 7:08 PM with the headline "Age of Scalia: inspirational passion for law, written word."

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