Our constitutional law of religious liberty is a riot of principles: principles of freedom of conscience, neutrality, separation of church and state, and others. To resolve concrete disputes, we must identify what those principles are and how they could ever jointly deliver singular answers to constitutional questions. Furthermore, to identify what the principles are, we must grasp what makes them so. This Article aims to meet these three needs. It clarifies what grounds our constitutional principles, sketches what our constitutional principles of religious liberty are today, and explains how the law could ever lie decisively on the side of one litigant or rule over another when individual principles point in opposite directions. It develops and tests its claims by analyzing two questions at the law’s frontiers: whether free exercise principles support a constitutional entitlement to exemption from antidiscrimination obligations beyond what free speech principles alone mandate, and whether publicly chartered religious schools are constitutionally permitted, required, or prohibited.

This is an investigation into the constitutional law of religious liberty, of course. But two of the three essential tasks it tackles—explaining how our principles are what they are and how multiple principles could ever provide determinate legal answers to contested constitutional questions—are critical across all regions of constitutional law. Accordingly, this Article examines the constitutional law of religious liberty both for its own sake and as a window into the fundamental elements and mechanics of American constitutional law generally. Its central arguments are that principles are the building blocks of our constitutional law, that they change organically as legal practices and commitments change, and that they can yield singular constitutional facts or rules despite their plurality.

Can Founding-era understandings of punishment limit the reach of punitive state activity, specifically with respect to automatic collateral consequences? This Article begins to tackle that question. For over a century, the Supreme Court has struggled to define the boundaries of crime and punishment. Under current doctrine, a deprivation constitutes punishment when it furthers a legislatively assigned penal purpose. A retributive purpose is sufficient, whereas traditionally instrumentalist purposes, such as deterrence, rehabilitation, or incapacitation, are not. Scholars have criticized this framework for several reasons, highlighting its jurisprudential assumptions, philosophical confusion, historical inconsistency, unworkability, complexity, and failure to reflect the essentially punitive nature of many, if not most, of the “collateral consequences” that flow from a conviction.

This Article offers a different critique along methodological grounds, arguing that existing doctrine is divorced from core jurisprudential premises in the broader constitutional tradition and the original meaning and understanding of crime and punishment.  First, while the American Constitution and legal tradition permit legislative determination of new types of crimes and the quantity of punishment, the understanding of crime and punishment at the time of the Founding was much simpler than the understanding reflected by existing doctrine. Current law mistakenly defers to legislative judgment for resolving the definitional question, all but guaranteeing legislative overreach.  Second, the Court’s precedents have restricted the only sufficient penal purpose to retribution despite significant philosophical and legal history suggesting early American thinkers, reformers, and the Framers considered other purposes to be punitive. Founding era attitudes relating to the justifications for and purposes of punishment, and the types of deprivations carried out by the state in the wake of conviction, suggest a thicker understanding of punishment that contemplates both retributive and instrumentalist purposes.

In Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, the Supreme Court held that there is no constitutional right to abortion. The decision has had a devastating impact on people seeking abortions in many states, and it will have an even more profound effect on the rights and lives of minors. Pregnant minors face greater risks than pregnant adults when they are forced to continue a pregnancy that can harm their physical and mental health and their educational and financial futures. Very young minors are incapable of consenting to the sexual acts that result in pregnancy, but many states require even these young rape victims to sacrifice their health and well-being—and potentially their lives—for the sake of a future child.

But the Dobbs opinion also calls into question other constitutional rights of minors. In Dobbs the Supreme Court interpreted its prior holdings to recognize a substantive right under the Fourteenth Amendment Due Process Clause only for (1) “rights guaranteed by the first eight Amendments,” and (2) a “select list” of unenumerated fundamental rights. “In deciding whether a right falls into either of these categories, the Court has long asked whether the right is ‘deeply rooted in [our] history and tradition’ and whether it is essential to our Nation’s 'scheme of ordered liberty.” If a right does not fall within either of those categories, it is not entitled to substantive constitutional protection under that provision. The Court concluded that the right to abortion was not protected by the Constitution.

In 2010, the Supreme Court held in Padilla v. Kentucky that criminal defense attorneys have a constitutional obligation to advise noncitizen clients of the immigration consequences of a guilty plea in criminal court proceedings. Though it has been over a decade since the decision, little research has been done regarding Padilla’s implementation by defense counsel on a statewide level. This Article provides findings from a case study on Padilla advising in Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania is unique because its state courts have interpreted Padilla narrowly and permit immigration advisals that would be deemed constitutionally deficient in other jurisdictions. Pennsylvania also does not have a state-funded public defense system, which means standards for indigent representation vary by county.

As the Founding generation understood the word, “Speaker” meant an elected member of the House. Yet modern representatives nominate non-House-members for the speakership—and many argue the practice is constitutional. To correct this constitutional drift, this Article closely analyzes the text of the Speaker Clause, the structure of the Constitution, and 700 years of history and tradition to show that the Constitution requires the Speaker of the House to be a member of the House. It also considers the practicalities of correcting this drift. If, as this Article argues, the Constitution bars nonmembers from the speakership, who can enforce that rule, especially if Congress itself is the one violating it? Though the Speaker Clause likely is not justiciable, Congress has an independent duty—equally important to that of the judiciary—to uphold the Constitution.

A few years ago, conversations about artificial intelligence (“AI”) were confined to the pages of books and the ivory towers of academia. Now, even older generations know that AI makes many of the decisions in their lives. The heightened public awareness around AI has generated exciting conversations about its potential to push society into the future but it has also raised concerns about AI’s safety and inherent fairness. These concerns raises the following question: Can I trust a “robot” or automated system that makes decisions on my behalf?

As the use of AI by federal agencies continues to grow, concerns have been raised about the potential for “corporate capture of public power.” As many government agencies lack the expertise and resources to develop their own AI models, they rely on private companies to create them, leading to questions about bias and privacy safeguards in automated systems. These concerns add to the larger conversation about the trustworthiness of AI decision makers in our daily lives.