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    I Clerked for Justice O’Connor. She Was My Hero, but I Worry About Her Legacy.

    When I learned that Justice Sandra Day O’Connor had died, I felt not just the loss of a world historical figure but also the loss of someone who formed a part of my identity.As a young woman, I was in awe of Justice O’Connor. Her presence on the Supreme Court offered an answer to any doubts I had that I belonged in the law. As a young lawyer, I was lucky enough to work for a year as her law clerk.While clerking for her, I came to understand and appreciate not only her place in history but also her vision of the law. She refused opportunities to issue sweeping opinions that would substitute her ideals for the democratic process. This made it all the more tragic that toward the end of her career, she joined in a decision — Bush v. Gore — that represented a rejection of her cautious approach in favor of a starkly political one.For me, she stands as a shining example of how women — everyone, really — can approach life and work. I witnessed her warmth, humor and humanity while experiencing the gift of learning and seeing the law through her eyes. Those personal and legal impressions have left an enduring mark on me as a person and as a lawyer.At the time Justice O’Connor became a lawyer, women in that role were rare. As has now become familiar lore, after she graduated near the top of her class from Stanford Law School in 1952, she was unable to find work as a lawyer. As a justice, she made sure that opportunities denied to her were available to others. Shortly after I graduated from law school, I joined two other women and one man in her chambers, making a rare majority-woman chamber when just over a third of the clerks for Supreme Court justices were women.I always found it remarkable that I never heard Justice O’Connor talk with any bitterness of the barriers she faced pursuing her career. Instead, she worked hard and without drama to overcome them. Remarkably, that experience did not harden her.She had a wicked sense of humor. The door to our clerks’ office held a photocopied image of her hand with the words “For a pat on the back, lean here.” Her face transformed in an almost girlish way when she laughed, which she did often.When she met with the clerks on Saturday to discuss upcoming cases, she brought us a home-cooked lunch — often something inspired by her Western roots. (One memorable example was tortillas and a cheesy chicken filling, to make a kind of cross between a burrito and a chicken quesadilla. It was a bit of a mess to eat but delicious.) She insisted that we get out of the courthouse and walk with her to see the cherry blossoms, and she took us to one of her favorite museums; once we visited the National Arboretum and lingered at the bonsai exhibit. She believed firmly in the benefits of exercise, and she invited us to join daily aerobics sessions with a group of her friends early in the morning in the basketball court above the Supreme Court chamber, which she delighted in calling the “highest court in the land.”She was also a hopeless romantic, and she was well known for trying to find partners for her single clerks. She met her husband, John, in law school, and they married shortly after graduation. He had received an Alzheimer’s diagnosis when I clerked for her, though that knowledge was not yet public. He often came by her chambers as she worked to maintain a sense of normalcy. She retired in 2006 largely because of his progressing dementia. In a powerful lesson of what it is to love, she was happy for him when he struck up a romance with a fellow Alzheimer’s patient. It was devastating to learn that she was subsequently diagnosed with dementia herself.When I clerked for her in 1998 and ’99, she was at the height of her powers. She was the unquestioned swing justice, and some called her the most powerful woman in the world.But she approached the role with humility. Considered a minimalist, she worked to devise opinions that decided the case and usually little more. She was sometimes criticized for that approach. Justice Antonin Scalia made no secret of his frustration. When she refused to overturn Roe v. Wade, in the 1992 case Planned Parenthood v. Casey, he snarlingly referred to the opinion as a “jurisprudence of confusion.” She was criticized by many academics for failing to articulate a grand vision of the law.What they missed was that this was her grand vision of the law — or at least of the Supreme Court. She had spent the formative part of her career before she entered the court as a member of the Arizona State Legislature, where she rose to become the first female majority leader of a State Senate.She believed that the most important decisions about how to govern the country belonged to the political branches and to state legislatures, not to a court sitting in Washington. Seeing the law through her eyes during the year I worked for her, I realized that she was not looking for a sweeping theory that would change the face of the law. She wanted to decide the case before her and provide a bit of guidance to the lower courts as necessary but leave the rest to the democratic process.In December 2000, this made reading the opinion she joined in Bush v. Gore all the more heartbreaking. Her vote made a 5-to-4 majority for the decision to halt the recount in Florida rather than allow that process to play out, throwing the election to George W. Bush, who became the first president since 1888 to be elected without winning the popular vote. The decision, widely criticized for its shoddy reasoning, was the opposite of the careful, modest decisions she had spent her career crafting. It disenfranchised voters whose ballots had been rejected by ballot-counting machines in the interests of finality — in the process substituting the judgment of the court for the expressed will of the people.The court showed that it could — and would — behave in nakedly political ways. It had given into the temptation to engage in ends-driven reasoning that was utterly unpersuasive to those who did not already share its view of the right result. In doing so, the court might have opened the door to what has now become something of a habit.Justice O’Connor retired just over five years later, and she was replaced by Samuel Alito. It has been painful to watch as, in decision after decision, he has voted to undo much of the legacy she so carefully constructed. The blunt politics of Bush v. Gore now look less like an embarrassing outlier and more like a turning point toward a court that has cast aside Justice O’Connor’s cautious minimalism for a robustly unapologetic political view of the law. Unsurprisingly, public opinion of the court has fallen to a near historic low.Justice O’Connor remains a transformative figure in the law, a woman who charted a path that I and so many others have followed. If the court is to regain the public trust, it should look, once again, to her shining example, which embodied a powerful ideal: the court is not a body meant to enact the justices’ vision of what the law should be. Its role is, instead, to encourage our imperfect democracy to find its way forward on its own.Oona A. Hathaway is a professor of law and political science at Yale University and a nonresident scholar at the Carnegie Endowment for Peace.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow the New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, X and Threads. More

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    O’Connor’s Most Vital Work Was After She Stepped Down

    You can tell a lot about a person by what he or she regrets. This holds especially for Supreme Court justices, whose decisions can, with a single vote, upend individual lives and alter the course of history. Justice Lewis F. Powell Jr. said he probably made a mistake in upholding a law criminalizing gay sex; Justice Harry Blackmun was sorry he ever voted to impose the death penalty.Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, who died on Friday at the age of 93, expressed regret publicly over one vote she cast: in the case of Republican Party of Minnesota v. White, a 2002 ruling that judicial candidates could not be prohibited from expressing their views on disputed legal and political issues. Minnesota, like many states that elect judges, had imposed such a ban in order to preserve the appearance of judicial impartiality. The court rejected the ban for violating the First Amendment. The decision was 5 to 4, with Justice O’Connor joining the majority.The court’s ruling led to an explosion of partisan spending on judicial elections around the country and judicial candidates freely spouting their predetermined views on the very issues they would be entrusted to decide if elected.There are many ways to remember Justice O’Connor — as the first woman on the Supreme Court, as one of the justices who saved Roe v. Wade 30 years ago, as the author of the landmark decision protecting affirmative action in 2003. As impressive as those achievements were, they have mostly been surpassed or reversed. What stands out for me is what she said and did after leaving the court.Her response to the 2002 ruling would define most of her last years and underline her commitment to American democracy not just in the halls of justice but also on the ground. It was as if she could see what was coming as the judiciary grew ever more politicized, and she devoted much of her postcourt public life to combating that trend.In March 2006, only weeks after she stepped down, she gave a speech calling out Republican lawmakers for attacking the judiciary. She highlighted the comment by Senator John Cornyn of Texas that deadly violence against judges might be related to their rulings.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber?  More

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    Sandra Day O’Connor’s Legacy Was Undermined by Court’s Rightward Shift

    Since her retirement in 2006, the court has dismantled her key rulings on abortion, affirmative action and campaign finance.Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, who died Friday at 93, was the sort of figure once familiar in American political and judicial life: a moderate Republican ready to look for compromise and common ground.That led her to vote to uphold abortion rights, affirmative action and campaign finance regulations. Since she retired in 2006, replaced by the far more conservative Justice Samuel A. Alito Jr., the Supreme Court has dismantled large parts of her legacy.That is nowhere more apparent than in abortion rights.Justice O’Connor joined the controlling opinion in Planned Parenthood v. Casey, the 1992 decision that, to the surprise of many, reaffirmed the core of the constitutional right to abortion established in 1973 in Roe v. Wade.To overrule Roe “under fire in the absence of the most compelling reason to re-examine a watershed decision,” she wrote in a joint opinion with Justices Anthony M. Kennedy and David H. Souter, “would subvert the court’s legitimacy beyond any serious question.”Last year, the court did overrule Roe, casting aside Justice O’Connor’s concern for precedent and the court’s public standing. In his majority opinion in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, Justice Alito wrote that Roe and Casey had “enflamed debate and deepened division.”Justice O’Connor also wrote the majority opinion in Grutter v. Bollinger, a 2003 decision upholding race-conscious admissions decisions at public universities, suggesting that they would not longer be needed in a quarter-century. In striking down affirmative action programs in higher education in June, the Supreme Court beat her deadline by five years.Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr., writing for the majority, said the timetable was unrealistic and unprincipled.“The 25-year mark articulated in Grutter, however, reflected only that court’s view that race-based preferences would, by 2028, be unnecessary to ensure a requisite level of racial diversity on college campuses,” he wrote. “That expectation was oversold.”Justice O’Connor was also an author of a key campaign finance opinion, McConnell v. Federal Election Commission in 2003. A few years after Justice Alito replaced her, the Supreme Court, by a 5-to-4 vote in 2010, overruled a central portion of that decision in the Citizens United case.A few days later, at a law school conference, Justice O’Connor reflected on the development.“Gosh,” she said, “I step away for a couple of years and there’s no telling what’s going to happen.”President Ronald Reagan nominated Justice O’Connor in 1981, making good on his campaign trail promise to name the first female Supreme Court justice. At the time she was a judge on a state appeals court, not a typical launchpad to the Supreme Court in the modern era, when it has been dominated by former federal appeals court judges.But her origin story was a reflection of her strengths, drawing on a range of experience largely missing among the current justices. Raised and educated in the West, she served in all three branches of Arizona’s government, including as a government lawyer, majority leader of the State Senate, and a trial judge.Her background informed her decisions, which were sensitive to states’ rights and often deferred to the judgments of the other branches of the federal government. Her rulings could be pragmatic and narrow, and her critics said she engaged in split-the-difference jurisprudence.But some of her commitments were unyielding, said Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the second woman to serve on the Supreme Court. “As often as Justice O’Connor and I have disagreed, because she is truly a Republican from Arizona, we were together in all the gender discrimination cases,” Justice Ginsburg, who died in 2020, told USA Today in 2009.What is beyond question is that she was exceptionally powerful. She held the crucial vote in many of the court’s most polarizing cases, and her vision shaped American life for her quarter century on the court. Political scientists stood in awe at the power she wielded.“On virtually all conceptual and empirical definitions, O’Connor is the court’s center — the median, the key, the critical and the swing justice,” Andrew D. Martin, Kevin M. Quinn and Lee Epstein and two colleagues wrote in a study published in 2005 in The North Carolina Law Review shortly before Justice O’Connor’s retirement.In 2018, in a letter announcing her retreat from public life as she battled dementia, Justice O’Connor called for a renewed commitment to nonpartisan values, one that would require “putting country and the common good above party and self-interest, and holding our key governmental institutions accountable.”At the time, Chief Justice Roberts, who had joined the court just months before Justice O’Connor left it, described her place in history.“She broke down barriers for women in the legal profession to the betterment of that profession and the country as a whole,” he wrote. “She serves as a role model not only for girls and women, but for all those committed to equal justice under law.”On Friday, the chief justice added: “We at the Supreme Court mourn the loss of a beloved colleague, a fiercely independent defender of the rule of law, and an eloquent advocate for civics education. And we celebrate her enduring legacy as a true public servant and patriot.”That legacy is striking and real. But in the less than two decades since Justice O’Connor’s retirement, a central aspect of that legacy — her jurisprudence — has proved vulnerable. More