Amar's Bill of Rights: The Misappropriation of the Fourth Amendment

The Fourth Amendment, in many respects, is the closest thing to a right to privacy that can be found in our federal Constitution. This Amendment has become the bulwark of personal security and liberty in our country, even as we struggle to understand the limits our security should place on our liberty and the imposition that technology places on both. But in Chapter 4 of his book The Bill of Rights, Akhil Reed Amar argues that the Founders were not primarily building an individual right to security and privacy in the Fourth Amendment, rather they were providing another tool for civil juries to keep oligarchical and repressive governments in check.

Let's walk through Amar's development of his argument because, even if we do not wish to adopt the Founders' interpretation of the Fourth Amendment -- after all, there is a place for a right to privacy in our constitutional structure -- there are principles the Founders' view of the Fourth Amendment have to teach us.

The Fourth Amendment reads as follows:

 

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

The use of the word "people" in this Amendment rings with echoes of the context of the other Amendments employing this word -- the First, Second, Ninth, and Tenth Amendments. This is the clarion call to the sovereignty of "We, the People of the United States." Amar imagines what the Amendment might mean for us if we take this popular sovereignty perspective alone in its interpretation:

 

On one reading, the amendment's language of "the people" could be read as reminding us that we must be especially watchful of government efforts to use search-and-siezure powers to interfere with people's political activities -- circulating petitions (literally the people's papers), attending political meetings (with the literal persons), assembling in a constitutional convention (which might be seen as a house of the people), and so on. But without more, this reading seems a bit too cute; surely, the main "houses" to be protected here are private abodes, not public assemblies.

Amar argues that the 1763 English case Wilkes v. Wood must have served as an influence for Madison:

 

Wood involved a famous cast of characters -- both the target of the government, John Wilkes, and the author of the opinion, Lord Chief Charles Pratt (soon to become Lord Camden), became folk heroes in the colonies.... Wilkes, a champion of the people and a member of Commons, had used the press to communicate with his constituents and criticize George III's ministry and majesty. When the government reacted by trying to use general warrants to suppress his political activity, breaking into his house and rummaging through his personal papers, Wilkes brought suit in Wood and successfully challenged the legality of those warrants. Wilkes also brought suit to challenge the "seizure" of his "person." (The government had imprisoned him in the Tower of London.) In a companion case to Wood, the lord chief justice ordered Wilkes released on habeas corpus on the ground of his Parliamentary privilege from arrest.

Madison quickly turns from the "political to the personal, from the 'the people' out-of-doors in conventions and suchlike to "persons" very much indoors in their private homes."

 

Yet even here, in taking the familiar talk of individual rights, we must be wary of anachronism and must not automatically assume that the right was essentially countermajoritarian. As with virtually every Bill of Rights provision thus far examined, the Fourth Amendment evinces at least as much concern with the agency problem of protecting the people generally from self-interested government policy as with protesting minorities against majorities of fellow citizens. A self-dealing and oligarchic government, after all, could threaten rights of the people collectively by singling out certain persons -- opposition leaders like John Wilkes, for example -- for special abuse. To counter this and other threats, the Fourth and Seventh Amendments armed civil juries, drawn from "the people," with special weapons to protect both individual persons and the collective people against a possibly unrepresentative and self-serving officialdom.

Reflect, for a moment, on the fact that the Fourth Amendment actually contains two different commands. First, all government searches and seizures must be reasonable. Second, no warrants shall issue without probably cause. The modern Supreme Court has intentionally collapsed the two requirements, treating all unwarranted searches and seizures -- with various exceptions, such as exigent circumstances -- as per se unreasonable. Otherwise, the Court has reasoned, the requirement that a neutral magistrate verify probable cause ex ante would be obviously frustrated -- the special safeguards of the warrant clause would be all but meaningless.

But this conflation of the warrant clause with the probable cause clause is not what the amendment says and effectively rewrites the amendment by adding a second sentence: "Absent special circumstances, no search or seizure shall occur without a warrant."

Amar invites us to rethink our assumptions:

 

To begin rethinking, consider the paradigmatic way in which Fourth Amendment rights were to be enforced at the Founding. Virtually any search or seizure by a federal officer would involve a physical trespass under common-law principles. An aggrieved target could use the common law of trespass to bring suit for damages against the official -- just as Wilkes brought a trespass action against Wood. If the search or seizure were deemed lawful in court, the defendant would prevail; but if, as in Wood, the search were found lawful, the defendant government official would be held strictly liable. There was no such thing as "good faith" immunity.

The problem with the Supreme Court's modern approach is that the proper role of the jury is displaced, and the role of citizens to act as a check on the professional judiciary and powerful magistrates has been hijacked. General warrants are too, well, general, and the ability of juries to review facts and determine appropriate awards and damages for cases in which they deem rights were violated is compromised. As in our loss of understanding of the militia, the modern jury is a sad shadow of its former energetic self and fundamental structural principles of the original Constitution have been lost.