Full opinion text
Justice KAGAN took no part in the consideration or decision of this case.
Chief Justice ROBERTS, concurring. The dissent devotes 11 pages to expounding its own policy preferences in favor of taking race into account in college admissions, while nonetheless concluding that it "do[es] not mean to suggest that the virtues of adopting race-sensitive admissions policies should inform the legal question before the Court." Post, at 1682 - 1683 (opinion of SOTOMAYOR, J.). The dissent concedes that the governing boards of the State's various universities could have implemented a policy making it illegal to "discriminate against, or grant preferential treatment to," any individual on the basis of race. See post, at 1652 - 1653, 1669 - 1670. On the dissent's view, if the governing boards conclude that drawing racial distinctions in university admissions is undesirable or counterproductive, they are permissibly exercising their policymaking authority. But others who might reach the same conclusion are failing to take race seriously. The dissent states that "[t]he way to stop discrimination on the basis of race is to speak openly and candidly on the subject of race." Post, at 1676. And it urges that "[r]ace matters because of the slights, the snickers, the silent judgments that reinforce that most crippling of thoughts: 'I do not belong here.' " Ibid. But it is not "out of touch with reality" to conclude that racial preferences may themselves have the debilitating effect of reinforcing precisely that doubt, and-if so-that the preferences do more harm than good. Post, at 1675 - 1676. To disagree with the dissent's views on the costs and benefits of racial preferences is not to "wish away, rather than confront" racial inequality. Post, at 1676. People can disagree in good faith on this issue, but it similarly does more harm than good to question the openness and candor of those on either side of the debate. Justice SCALIA, with whom Justice THOMAS joins, concurring in the judgment. It has come to this. Called upon to explore the jurisprudential twilight zone between two errant lines of precedent, we confront a frighteningly bizarre question: Does the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment forbid what its text plainly requires ? Needless to say (except that this case obliges us to say it), the question answers itself. "The Constitution proscribes government discrimination on the basis of race, and state-provided education is no exception." Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 349, 123 S.Ct. 2325, 156 L.Ed.2d 304 (2003) (SCALIA, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part). It is precisely this understanding-the correct understanding-of the federal Equal Protection Clause that the people of the State of Michigan have adopted for their own fundamental law. By adopting it, they did not simultaneously offend it. Even taking this Court's sorry line of race-based-admissions cases as a given, I find the question presented only slightly less strange: Does the Equal Protection Clause forbid a State from banning a practice that the Clause barely-and only provisionally-permits? Reacting to those race-based-admissions decisions, some States-whether deterred by the prospect of costly litigation; aware that Grutter 's bell may soon toll, see 539 U.S., at 343, 123 S.Ct. 2325; or simply opposed in principle to the notion of "benign" racial discrimination-have gotten out of the racial-preferences business altogether. And with our express encouragement: "Universities in California, Florida, and Washington State, where racial preferences in admissions are prohibited by state law, are currently engaging in experimenting with a wide variety of alternative approaches. Universities in other States can and should draw on the most promising aspects of these race-neutral alternatives as they develop." Id., at 342, 123 S.Ct. 2325 (emphasis added). Respondents seem to think this admonition was merely in jest. The experiment, they maintain, is not only over; it never rightly began. Neither the people of the States nor their legislatures ever had the option of directing subordinate public-university officials to cease considering the race of applicants, since that would deny members of those minority groups the option of enacting a policy designed to further their interest, thus denying them the equal protection of the laws. Never mind that it is hotly disputed whether the practice of race-based admissions is ever in a racial minority's interest. Cf. id., at 371-373, 123 S.Ct. 2325 (THOMAS, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part). And never mind that, were a public university to stake its defense of a race-based-admissions policy on the ground that it was designed to benefit primarily minorities (as opposed to all students, regardless of color, by enhancing diversity), we would hold the policy unconstitutional . See id ., at 322-325, 123 S.Ct. 2325. But the battleground for this case is not the constitutionality of race-based admissions-at least, not quite. Rather, it is the so-called political-process doctrine, derived from this Court's opinions in Washington v. Seattle School Dist. No. 1, 458 U.S. 457, 102 S.Ct. 3187, 73 L.Ed.2d 896 (1982), and Hunter v. Erickson, 393 U.S. 385, 89 S.Ct. 557, 21 L.Ed.2d 616 (1969). I agree with those parts of the plurality opinion that repudiate this doctrine. But I do not agree with its reinterpretation of Seattle and Hunter , which makes them stand in part for the cloudy and doctrinally anomalous proposition that whenever state action poses "the serious risk ... of causing specific injuries on account of race," it denies equal protection. Ante, at 1633. I would instead reaffirm that the "ordinary principles of our law [and] of our democratic heritage" require "plaintiffs alleging equal protection violations" stemming from facially neutral acts to "prove intent and causation and not merely the existence of racial disparity." Freeman v. Pitts, 503 U.S. 467, 506, 112 S.Ct. 1430, 118 L.Ed.2d 108 (1992) (SCALIA, J., concurring) (citing Washington v. Davis, 426 U.S. 229, 96 S.Ct. 2040, 48 L.Ed.2d 597 (1976) ). I would further hold that a law directing state actors to provide equal protection is (to say the least) facially neutral, and cannot violate the Constitution. Section 26 of the Michigan Constitution (formerly Proposal 2) rightly stands. I A The political-process doctrine has its roots in two of our cases. The first is Hunter . In 1964, the Akron City Council passed a fair-housing ordinance " 'assur[ing] equal opportunity to all persons to live in decent housing facilities regardless of race, color, religion, ancestry or national origin.' " 393 U.S., at 386, 89 S.Ct. 557. Soon after, the city's voters passed an amendment to the Akron City Charter stating that any ordinance enacted by the council that " 'regulates' " commercial transactions in real property " 'on the basis of race, color, religion, national origin or ancestry' "-including the already enacted 1964 ordinance-"must first be approved by a majority of the electors voting on the question" at a later referendum. Id., at 387, 89 S.Ct. 557. The question was whether the charter amendment denied equal protection. Answering yes, the Court explained that "although the law on its face treats Negro and white, Jew and gentile in an identical manner, the reality is that the law's impact falls on the minority. The majority needs no protection against discrimination." Id., at 391, 89 S.Ct. 557. By placing a "special burden on racial minorities within the governmental processes," the amendment " disadvantage[d]" a racial minority "by making it more difficult to enact legislation in its behalf." Id., at 391, 393, 89 S.Ct. 557. The reasoning in Seattle is of a piece. Resolving to "eliminate all [racial] imbalance from the Seattle public schools," the city school board passed a mandatory busing and pupil-reassignment plan of the sort typically imposed on districts guilty of de jure segregation. 458 U.S., at 460-461, 102 S.Ct. 3187. A year later, the citizens of the State of Washington passed Initiative 350, which directed (with exceptions) that " 'no school ... shall directly or indirectly require any student to attend a school other than the school which is geographically nearest or next nearest the student's place of residence ... and which offers the course of study pursued by such student,' " permitting only court-ordered race-based busing. Id., at 462, 102 S.Ct. 3187. The lower courts held Initiative 350 unconstitutional, and we affirmed, announcing in the prelude of our analysis-as though it were beyond debate-that the Equal Protection Clause forbade laws that "subtly distor[t] governmental processes in such a way as to place special burdens on the ability of minority groups to achieve beneficial legislation." Id., at 467, 102 S.Ct. 3187. The first question in Seattle was whether the subject matter of Initiative 350 was a " 'racial' issue," triggering Hunter and its process doctrine. 458 U.S., at 471-472, 102 S.Ct. 3187. It was "undoubtedly ... true" that whites and blacks were "counted among both the supporters and the opponents of Initiative 350." Id., at 472, 102 S.Ct. 3187. It was "equally clear" that both white and black children benefitted from desegregated schools. Ibid. Nonetheless, we concluded that desegregation "inures primarily to the benefit of the minority, and is designed for that purpose." Ibid. (emphasis added). In any event, it was "enough that minorities may consider busing for integration to be 'legislation that is in their interest.' " Id., at 474, 102 S.Ct. 3187 (quoting Hunter, supra, at 395, 89 S.Ct. 557 (Harlan, J., concurring)). So we proceeded to the heart of the political-process analysis. We held Initiative 350 unconstitutional, since it removed "the authority to address a racial problem-and only a racial problem-from the existing decisionmaking body, in such a way as to burden minority interests." Seattle, 458 U.S., at 474, 102 S.Ct. 3187. Although school boards in Washington retained authority over other student-assignment issues and over most matters of educational policy generally, under Initiative 350, minorities favoring race-based busing would have to "surmount a considerably higher hurdle" than the mere petitioning of a local assembly: They "now must seek relief from the state legislature, or from the statewide electorate," a "different level of government." Ibid . The relentless logic of Hunter and Seattle would point to a similar conclusion in this case. In those cases, one level of government exercised borrowed authority over an apparently "racial issue," until a higher level of government called the loan. So too here. In those cases, we deemed the revocation an equal-protection violation regardless of whether it facially classified according to race or reflected an invidious purpose to discriminate. Here, the Court of Appeals did the same. The plurality sees it differently. Though it, too, disavows the political-process-doctrine basis on which Hunter and Seattle were decided, ante, at 1633 - 1636, it does not take the next step of overruling those cases. Rather, it reinterprets them beyond recognition. Hunter , the plurality suggests, was a case in which the challenged act had "target[ed] racial minorities." Ante, at 1632 - 1633. Maybe, but the Hunter Court neither found that to be so nor considered it relevant, bypassing the question of intent entirely, satisfied that its newly minted political-process theory sufficed to invalidate the charter amendment. As for Seattle , what was really going on, according to the plurality, was that Initiative 350 had the consequence (if not the purpose) of preserving the harms effected by prior de jure segregation. Thus, "the political restriction in question was designed to be used, or was likely to be used, to encourage infliction of injury by reason of race." Ante, at 1638. That conclusion is derived not from the opinion but from recently discovered evidence that the city of Seattle had been a cause of its schools' racial imbalance all along: "Although there had been no judicial finding of de jure segregation with respect to Seattle's school district, it appears as though school segregation in the district in the 1940's and 1950's may have been the partial result of school board policies." Ante, at 1633. That the district's effort to end racial imbalance had been stymied by Initiative 350 meant that the people, by passing it, somehow had become complicit in Seattle's equal-protection-denying status quo, whether they knew it or not. Hence, there was in Seattle a government-furthered "infliction of a specific"-and, presumably, constitutional-"injury." Ante, at 1635 - 1636. Once again this describes what our opinion in Seattle might have been, but assuredly not what it was. The opinion assumes throughout that Seattle's schools suffered at most from de facto segregation, see, e.g., 458 U.S., at 474, 475, 102 S.Ct. 3187 -that is, segregation not the "product ... of state action but of private choices," having no "constitutional implications," Freeman, 503 U.S., at 495-496, 112 S.Ct. 1430. Nor did it anywhere state that the current racial imbalance was the (judicially remediable) effect of prior de jure segregation. Absence of de jure segregation or the effects of de jure segregation was a necessary premise of the Seattle opinion. That is what made the issue of busing and pupil reassignment a matter of political choice rather than judicial mandate. And precisely because it was a question for the political branches to decide, the manner-which is to say, the process -of its resolution implicated the Court's new process theory. The opinion itself says this: "[I]n the absence of a constitutional violation, the desirability and efficacy of school desegregation are matters to be resolved though the political process. For present purposes, it is enough [to hold reallocation of that political decision to a higher level unconstitutional] that minorities may consider busing for integration to be legislation that is in their interest." 458 U.S., at 474, 102 S.Ct. 3187 (internal quotation marks omitted). B Patently atextual, unadministrable, and contrary to our traditional equal-protection jurisprudence, Hunter and Seattle should be overruled. The problems with the political-process doctrine begin with its triggering prong, which assigns to a court the task of determining whether a law that reallocates policymaking authority concerns a "racial issue." Seattle, 458 U.S., at 473, 102 S.Ct. 3187.Seattle takes a couple of dissatisfying cracks at defining this crucial term. It suggests that an issue is racial if adopting one position on the question would "at bottom inur[e] primarily to the benefit of the minority, and is designed for that purpose." Id., at 472, 102 S.Ct. 3187. It is irrelevant that, as in Hunter and Seattle, 458 U.S., at 472, 102 S.Ct. 3187, both the racial minority and the racial majority benefit from the policy in question, and members of both groups favor it. Judges should instead focus their guesswork on their own juridical sense of what is primarily for the benefit of minorities. Cf. ibid. (regarding as dispositive what "our cases" suggest is beneficial to minorities). On second thought, maybe judges need only ask this question: Is it possible "that minorities may consider" the policy in question to be "in their interest"? Id., at 474, 102 S.Ct. 3187. If so, you can be sure that you are dealing with a "racial issue." No good can come of such random judicial musing. The plurality gives two convincing reasons why. For one thing, it involves judges in the dirty business of dividing the Nation "into racial blocs," Metro Broadcasting, Inc. v. FCC, 497 U.S. 547, 603, 610, 110 S.Ct. 2997, 111 L.Ed.2d 445 (1990) (O'Connor, J., dissenting); ante, at 1634 - 1635. That task is as difficult as it is unappealing. (Does a half-Latino, half-American Indian have Latino interests, American-Indian interests, both, half of both? ) What is worse, the exercise promotes the noxious fiction that, knowing only a person's color or ethnicity, we can be sure that he has a predetermined set of policy "interests," thus "reinforc[ing] the perception that members of the same racial group-regardless of their age, education, economic status, or the community in which they live-think alike, [and] share the same political interests." Shaw v. Reno, 509 U.S. 630, 647, 113 S.Ct. 2816, 125 L.Ed.2d 511 (1993). Whether done by a judge or a school board, such "racial stereotyping [is] at odds with equal protection mandates." Miller v. Johnson, 515 U.S. 900, 920, 115 S.Ct. 2475, 132 L.Ed.2d 762 (1995). But that is not the "racial issue" prong's only defect. More fundamentally, it misreads the Equal Protection Clause to protect "particular group[s]," a construction that we have tirelessly repudiated in a "long line of cases understanding equal protection as a personal right." Adarand Constructors, Inc. v. Peã, 515 U.S. 200, 224, 230, 115 S.Ct. 2097, 132 L.Ed.2d 158 (1995). It is a "basic principle that the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution protect persons, not groups ." Id., at 227, 115 S.Ct. 2097; Metro Broadcasting,supra, at 636, 110 S.Ct. 2997 (KENNEDY, J., dissenting). Yet Seattle insists that only those political-process alterations that burden racial minorities deny equal protection. " The majority," after all, "needs no protection against discrimination." 458 U.S., at 468, 102 S.Ct. 3187 (quoting Hunter, 393 U.S., at 391, 89 S.Ct. 557). In the years since Seattle , we have repeatedly rejected "a reading of the guarantee of equal protection under which the level of scrutiny varies according to the ability of different groups to defend their interests in the representative process." Richmond v. J.A. Croson Co., 488 U.S. 469, 495, 109 S.Ct. 706, 102 L.Ed.2d 854 (1989). Meant to obliterate rather than endorse the practice of racial classifications, the Fourteenth Amendment's guarantees "obtai[n] with equal force regardless of 'the race of those burdened or benefitted.' " Miller,supra, at 904, 115 S.Ct. 2475 (quoting Croson, supra, at 494, 109 S.Ct. 706 (plurality opinion)); Adarand, supra, at 223, 227, 115 S.Ct. 2097. The Equal Protection Clause "cannot mean one thing when applied to one individual and something else when applied to a person of another color. If both are not accorded the same protection it is not equal." Regents of Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265, 289-290, 98 S.Ct. 2733, 57 L.Ed.2d 750 (1978) (opinion of Powell, J.). The dissent trots out the old saw, derived from dictum in a footnote, that legislation motivated by " 'prejudice against discrete and insular minorities' " merits " 'more exacting judicial scrutiny.' " Post, at 1668 (quoting United States v. Carolene Products, 304 U.S. 144, 152-153, n. 4, 58 S.Ct. 778, 82 L.Ed. 1234). I say derived from that dictum (expressed by the four-Justice majority of a seven-Justice Court) because the dictum itself merely said "[n]or need we enquire ... whether prejudice against discrete and insular minorities may be a special condition," id., at 153, n. 4, 58 S.Ct. 778 (emphasis added). The dissent does not argue, of course, that such "prejudice" produced § 26. Nor does it explain why certain racial minorities in Michigan qualify as " 'insular,' " meaning that "other groups will not form coalitions with them-and, critically, not because of lack of common interests but because of 'prejudice.' " Strauss, is caroleNE products obsolete? 2010 U. ill. L.rev. 1251, 1257. nor does it even make the case that a group's "discreteness" and "insularity" are political liabilities rather than political strengths -a serious question that alone demonstrates the prudence of the Carolene Products dictumizers in leaving the "enquir[y]" for another day. As for the question whether "legislation which restricts those political processes which can ordinarily be expected to bring about repeal of undesirable legislation ... is to be subjected to more exacting judicial scrutiny," the Carolene Products Court found it "unnecessary to consider [that] now." 304 U.S., at 152, n. 4, 58 S.Ct. 778. If the dissent thinks that worth considering today, it should explain why the election of a university's governing board is a " political process which can ordinarily be expected to bring about repeal of undesirable legislation," but Michigan voters' ability to amend their Constitution is not. It seems to me quite the opposite. Amending the Constitution requires the approval of only "a majority of the electors voting on the question." Mich. Const., Art. XII, § 2. By contrast, voting in a favorable board (each of which has eight members) at the three major public universities requires electing by majority vote at least 15 different candidates, several of whom would be running during different election cycles. See BAMN v. Regents of Univ. of Mich., 701 F.3d 466, 508 (C.A.6 2012) (Sutton, J., dissenting). So if Michigan voters, instead of amending their Constitution, had pursued the dissent's preferred path of electing board members promising to "abolish race-sensitive admissions policies," post, at 1653, it would have been harder, not easier, for racial minorities favoring affirmative action to overturn that decision. But the more important point is that we should not design our jurisprudence to conform to dictum in a footnote in a four-Justice opinion. C Moving from the appalling to the absurd, I turn now to the second part of the Hunter - Seattle analysis-which is apparently no more administrable than the first, compare post, at 1650 - 1651 (BREYER, J., concurring in judgment) ("This case ... does not involve a reordering of the political process"), with post, at 1664 - 1667 (SOTOMAYOR, J., dissenting) (yes, it does). This part of the inquiry directs a court to determine whether the challenged act "place[s] effective decisionmaking authority over [the] racial issue at a different level of government." Seattle, 458 U.S., at 474, 102 S.Ct. 3187. The laws in both Hunter and Seattle were thought to fail this test. In both cases, "the effect of the challenged action was to redraw decisionmaking authority over racial matters-and only over racial matters-in such a way as to place comparative burdens on minorities." 458 U.S., at 475, n. 17, 102 S.Ct. 3187. This, we said, a State may not do. By contrast, in another line of cases, we have emphasized the near-limitless sovereignty of each State to design its governing structure as it sees fit. Generally, "a State is afforded wide leeway when experimenting with the appropriate allocation of state legislative power" and may create "political subdivisions such as cities and counties ... 'as convenient agencies for exercising such of the governmental powers of the state as may be entrusted to them.' " Holt Civic Club v. Tuscaloosa, 439 U.S. 60, 71, 99 S.Ct. 383, 58 L.Ed.2d 292 (1978) (quoting Hunter v. Pittsburgh, 207 U.S. 161, 178, 28 S.Ct. 40, 52 L.Ed. 151 (1907) ). Accordingly, States have "absolute discretion" to determine the "number, nature and duration of the powers conferred upon [municipal] corporations and the territory over which they shall be exercised." Holt Civic Club, supra, at 71, 99 S.Ct. 383. So it would seem to go without saying that a State may give certain powers to cities, later assign the same powers to counties, and even reclaim them for itself. Taken to the limits of its logic, Hunter - Seattle is the gaping exception that nearly swallows the rule of structural state sovereignty. If indeed the Fourteenth Amendment forbids States to "place effective decisionmaking authority over" racial issues at "different level[s] of government," then it must be true that the Amendment's ratification in 1868 worked a partial ossification of each State's governing structure, rendering basically irrevocable the power of any subordinate state official who, the day before the Fourteenth Amendment's passage, happened to enjoy legislatively conferred authority over a "racial issue." Under the Fourteenth Amendment, that subordinate entity (suppose it is a city council) could itself take action on the issue, action either favorable or unfavorable to minorities. It could even reverse itself later. What it could not do, however, is redelegate its power to an even lower level of state government (such as a city-council committee) without forfeiting it, since the necessary effect of wresting it back would be to put an additional obstacle in the path of minorities. Likewise, no entity or official higher up the state chain (e.g., a county board) could exercise authority over the issue. Nor, even, could the state legislature, or the people by constitutional amendment, revoke the legislative conferral of power to the subordinate, whether the city council, its subcommittee, or the county board. Seattle 's logic would create affirmative-action safe havens wherever subordinate officials in public universities (1) traditionally have enjoyed "effective decisionmaking authority" over admissions policy but (2) have not yet used that authority to prohibit race-conscious admissions decisions. The mere existence of a subordinate's discretion over the matter would work a kind of reverse pre-emption. It is "a strange notion-alien to our system-that local governmental bodies can forever pre-empt the ability of a State-the sovereign power-to address a matter of compelling concern to the State." 458 U.S., at 495, 102 S.Ct. 3187 (Powell, J., dissenting). But that is precisely what the political-process doctrine contemplates. Perhaps the spirit of Seattle is especially disquieted by enactments of constitutional amendments. That appears to be the dissent's position. The problem with § 26, it suggests, is that amending Michigan's Constitution is simply not a part of that State's "existing" political process. E.g., post, at 1653, 1673 - 1674. What a peculiar notion: that a revision of a State's fundamental law, made in precisely the manner that law prescribes, by the very people who are the source of that law's authority, is not part of the "political process" which, but for those people and that law, would not exist. This will surely come as news to the people of Michigan, who, since 1914, have amended their Constitution 20 times. Brief for Gary Segura et al. as Amici Curiae 12. Even so, the dissent concludes that the amendment attacked here worked an illicit "chang[ing] [of] the basic rules of the political process in that State" in "the middle of the game." Post, at 1652, 1653. Why, one might ask, is not the amendment provision of the Michigan Constitution one (perhaps the most basic one) of the rules of the State's political process? And why does democratic invocation of that provision not qualify as working through the "existing political process," post, at 1673 - 1674? II I part ways with Hunter , Seattle , and (I think) the plurality for an additional reason: Each endorses a version of the proposition that a facially neutral law may deny equal protection solely because it has a disparate racial impact. Few equal-protection theories have been so squarely and soundly rejected. "An unwavering line of cases from this Court holds that a violation of the Equal Protection Clause requires state action motivated by discriminatory intent," Hernandez v. New York, 500 U.S. 352, 372-373, 111 S.Ct. 1859, 114 L.Ed.2d 395 (1991) (O'Connor, J., concurring in judgment), and that "official action will not be held unconstitutional solely because it results in a racially disproportionate impact," Arlington Heights v. Metropolitan Housing Development Corp., 429 U.S. 252, 264-265, 97 S.Ct. 555, 50 L.Ed.2d 450 (1977). Indeed, we affirmed this principle the same day we decided Seattle : "[E]ven when a neutral law has a disproportionately adverse effect on a racial minority, the Fourteenth Amendment is violated only if a discriminatory purpose can be shown." Crawford v. Board of Ed. of Los Angeles, 458 U.S. 527, 537-538, 102 S.Ct. 3211, 73 L.Ed.2d 948 (1982). Notwithstanding our dozens of cases confirming the exceptionless nature of the Washington v. Davis rule, the plurality opinion leaves ajar an effects-test escape hatch modeled after Hunter and Seattle , suggesting that state action denies equal protection when it "ha[s] the serious risk, if not purpose, of causing specific injuries on account of race," or is either "designed to be used, or ... likely to be used, to encourage infliction of injury by reason of race." Ante, at 1633, 1637 - 1638 (emphasis added). Since these formulations enable a determination of an equal-protection violation where there is no discriminatory intent, they are inconsistent with the long Washington v. Davis line of cases. Respondents argue that we need not bother with the discriminatory-purpose test, since § 26 may be struck more straightforwardly as a racial "classification." Admitting (as they must) that § 26 does not on its face "distribut[e] burdens or benefits on the basis of individual racial classifications," Parents Involved in Community Schools v. Seattle School Dist. No. 1, 551 U.S. 701, 720, 127 S.Ct. 2738, 168 L.Ed.2d 508 (2007), respondents rely on Seattle 's statement that "when the political process or the decisionmaking mechanism used to address racially conscious legislation-and only such legislation-is singled out for peculiar and disadvantageous treatment," then that "singling out" is a racial classification. 458 U.S., at 485, 486, n. 30, 102 S.Ct. 3187. But this is just the political-process theory bedecked in different doctrinal dress. A law that "neither says nor implies that persons are to be treated differently on account of their race" is not a racial classification. Crawford, supra, at 537, 102 S.Ct. 3211. That is particularly true of statutes mandating equal treatment. "[A] law that prohibits the State from classifying individuals by race ... a fortiori does not classify individuals by race." Coalition for Economic Equity v. Wilson, 122 F.3d 692, 702 (C.A.9 1997) (O'Scannlain, J.). Thus, the question in this case, as in every case in which neutral state action is said to deny equal protection on account of race, is whether the action reflects a racially discriminatory purpose. Seattle stresses that "singling out the political processes affecting racial issues for uniquely disadvantageous treatment inevitably raises dangers of impermissible motivation." 458 U.S., at 486, n. 30, 102 S.Ct. 3187. True enough, but that motivation must be proved. And respondents do not have a prayer of proving it here. The District Court noted that, under "conventional equal protection" doctrine, the suit was "doom[ed]." 539 F.Supp.2d 924, 951 (E.D.Mich.2008). Though the Court of Appeals did not opine on this question, I would not leave it for them on remand. In my view, any law expressly requiring state actors to afford all persons equal protection of the laws (such as Initiative 350 in Seattle , though not the charter amendment in Hunter ) does not-cannot -deny "to any person ... equal protection of the laws," U.S. Const., Amdt. 14, § 1, regardless of whatever evidence of seemingly foul purposes plaintiffs may cook up in the trial court. * * * As Justice Harlan observed over a century ago, "[o]ur Constitution is color-blind, and neither knows nor tolerates classes among citizens." Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 U.S. 537, 559, 16 S.Ct. 1138, 41 L.Ed. 256 (1896) (dissenting opinion). The people of Michigan wish the same for their governing charter. It would be shameful for us to stand in their way. Justice BREYER, concurring in the judgment. Michigan has amended its Constitution to forbid state universities and colleges to "discriminate against, or grant preferential treatment to, any individual or group on the basis of race, sex, color, ethnicity, or national origin in the operation of public employment, public education, or public contracting." Mich. Const., Art. I, § 26. We here focus on the prohibition of "grant[ing] ... preferential treatment ... on the basis of race ... in ... public education." I agree with the plurality that the amendment is consistent with the Federal Equal Protection Clause. U.S. Const., Amdt. 14. But I believe this for different reasons. First, we do not address the amendment insofar as it forbids the use of race-conscious admissions programs designed to remedy past exclusionary racial discrimination or the direct effects of that discrimination. Application of the amendment in that context would present different questions which may demand different answers. Rather, we here address the amendment only as it applies to, and forbids, programs that, as in Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 123 S.Ct. 2325, 156 L.Ed.2d 304 (2003), rest upon "one justification": using "race in the admissions process" solely in order to "obtai[n] the educational benefits that flow from a diverse student body," id., at 328, 123 S.Ct. 2325 (internal quotation marks omitted). Second, dissenting in Parents Involved in Community Schools v. Seattle School Dist. No. 1, 551 U.S. 701, 127 S.Ct. 2738, 168 L.Ed.2d 508 (2007), I explained why I believe race-conscious programs of this kind are constitutional, whether implemented by law schools, universities, high schools, or elementary schools. I concluded that the Constitution does not "authorize judges" either to forbid or to require the adoption of diversity-seeking race-conscious "solutions" (of the kind at issue here) to such serious problems as "how best to administer America's schools" to help "create a society that includes all Americans." Id., at 862, 127 S.Ct. 2738. I continue to believe that the Constitution permits, though it does not require, the use of the kind of race-conscious programs that are now barred by the Michigan Constitution. The serious educational problems that faced Americans at the time this Court decided Grutter endure. See, e.g., I. Mullis, M. Martin, P. Foy, & K. Drucker, Progress in International Reading Literacy Study, 2011 International Results in Reading 38, Exh. 1.1 (2012) (elementary-school students in numerous other countries outperform their counterparts in the United States in reading); I. Mullis, M. Martin, P. Foy, & A. Arora, Trends in International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS), 2011 International Results in Mathematics 40, Exh. 1.1 (2012) (same in mathematics); M. Martin, I. Mullis, P. Foy, & G. Stanco, TIMSS, 2011 International Results in Science, 38, Exh. 1.1 (2012) (same in science); Organisation of Economic Co-operation Development (OECD), Education at a Glance 2013: OECD Indicators 50 (Table A2.1a) (secondary-school graduation rate lower in the United States than in numerous other countries); McKinsey & Co., The Economic Impact of the Achievement Gap in America's Schools 8 (Apr. 2009) (same; United States ranks 18th of 24 industrialized nations). And low educational achievement continues to be correlated with income and race. See, e.g., National Center for Education Statistics, Digest of Education Statistics, Advance Release of Selected 2013 Digest Tables (Table 104.20) (White Americans more likely to have completed high school than African-Americans or Hispanic-Americans), online at http://nces.ed.gov/programs/digest (as visited Apr. 15, 2014, and available in Clerk of Court's case file); id., Table 219.75 (Americans in bottom quartile of income most likely to drop out of high school); id., Table 302.60 (White Americans more likely to enroll in college than African-Americans or Hispanic-Americans); id., Table 302.30 (middle- and high-income Americans more likely to enroll in college than low-income Americans). The Constitution allows local, state, and national communities to adopt narrowly tailored race-conscious programs designed to bring about greater inclusion and diversity. But the Constitution foresees the ballot box, not the courts, as the normal instrument for resolving differences and debates about the merits of these programs. Compare Parents Involved, 551 U.S., at 839, 127 S.Ct. 2738 (BREYER, J., dissenting) (identifying studies showing the benefits of racially integrated education), with id., at 761-763, 127 S.Ct. 2738 (THOMAS, J., concurring) (identifying studies suggesting racially integrated schools may not confer educational benefits). In short, the "Constitution creates a democratic political system through which the people themselves must together find answers" to disagreements of this kind. Id., at 862, 127 S.Ct. 2738 (BREYER, J., dissenting). Third, cases such as Hunter v. Erickson, 393 U.S. 385, 89 S.Ct. 557, 21 L.Ed.2d 616 (1969), and Washington v. Seattle School Dist. No. 1, 458 U.S. 457, 102 S.Ct. 3187, 73 L.Ed.2d 896 (1982), reflect an important principle, namely, that an individual's ability to participate meaningfully in the political process should be independent of his race. Although racial minorities, like other political minorities, will not always succeed at the polls, they must have the same opportunity as others to secure through the ballot box policies that reflect their preferences. In my view, however, neither Hunter nor Seattle applies here. And the parties do not here suggest that the amendment violates the Equal Protection Clause if not under the Hunter - Seattle doctrine. Hunter and Seattle involved efforts to manipulate the political process in a way not here at issue. Both cases involved a restructuring of the political process that changed the political level at which policies were enacted. In Hunter , decisionmaking was moved from the elected city council to the local electorate at large. 393 U.S., at 389-390, 89 S.Ct. 557. And in Seattle , decisionmaking by an elected school board was replaced with decisionmaking by the state legislature and electorate at large. 458 U.S., at 466, 102 S.Ct. 3187. This case, in contrast, does not involve a reordering of the political process; it does not in fact involve the movement of decisionmaking from one political level to another. Rather, here, Michigan law delegated broad policymaking authority to elected university boards, see Mich. Const., Art. VIII, § 5, but those boards delegated admissions-related decisionmaking authority to unelected university faculty members and administrators, see, e.g., Bylaws of Univ. of Mich. Bd. of Regents § 8.01; Mich. State Univ. Bylaws of Bd. of Trustees, Preamble; Mich. State Univ. Bylaws for Academic Governance § 4.4.3; Wayne State Univ. Stat. §§ 2-34-09, 2-34-12. Although the boards unquestionably retained the power to set policy regarding race-conscious admissions, see post, at 1664 - 1667 (SOTOMAYOR, J., dissenting), in fact faculty members and administrators set the race-conscious admissions policies in question. (It is often true that elected bodies-including, for example, school boards, city councils, and state legislatures-have the power to enact policies, but in fact delegate that power to administrators.) Although at limited times the university boards were advised of the content of their race-conscious admissions policies, see 701 F.3d 466, 481-482 (C.A.6 2012), to my knowledge no board voted to accept or reject any of those policies. Thus, unelected faculty members and administrators, not voters or their elected representatives, adopted the race-conscious admissions programs affected by Michigan's constitutional amendment. The amendment took decisionmaking authority away from these unelected actors and placed it in the hands of the voters. Why does this matter? For one thing, considered conceptually, the doctrine set forth in Hunter and Seattle does not easily fit this case. In those cases minorities had participated in the political process and they had won. The majority's subsequent reordering of the political process repealed the minority's successes and made it more difficult for the minority to succeed in the future. The majority thereby diminished the minority's ability to participate meaningfully in the electoral process. But one cannot as easily characterize the movement of the decisionmaking mechanism at issue here-from an administrative process to an electoral process-as diminishing the minority's ability to participate meaningfully in the political process. There is no prior electoral process in which the minority participated. For another thing, to extend the holding of Hunter and Seattle to reach situations in which decisionmaking authority is moved from an administrative body to a political one would pose significant difficulties. The administrative process encompasses vast numbers of decisionmakers answering numerous policy questions in hosts of different fields. See Free Enterprise Fund v. Public Company Accounting Oversight Bd., 561 U.S. 477, ----, 130 S.Ct. 3138, 3174, 177 L.Ed.2d 706 (2010) (BREYER, J., dissenting). Administrative bodies modify programs in detail, and decisionmaking authority within the administrative process frequently moves around-due to amendments to statutes, new administrative rules, and evolving agency practice. It is thus particularly difficult in this context for judges to determine when a change in the locus of decisionmaking authority places a comparative structural burden on a racial minority. And to apply Hunter and Seattle to the administrative process would, by tending to hinder change, risk discouraging experimentation, interfering with efforts to see when and how race-conscious policies work. Finally, the principle that underlies Hunter and Seattle runs up against a competing principle, discussed above. This competing principle favors decisionmaking though the democratic process. Just as this principle strongly supports the right of the people, or their elected representatives, to adopt race-conscious policies for reasons of inclusion, so must it give them the right to vote not to do so. As I have said, my discussion here is limited to circumstances in which decisionmaking is moved from an unelected administrative body to a politically responsive one, and in which the targeted race-conscious admissions programs consider race solely in order to obtain the educational benefits of a diverse student body. We need now decide no more than whether the Federal Constitution permits Michigan to apply its constitutional amendment in those circumstances. I would hold that it does. Therefore, I concur in the judgment of the Court. Justice SOTOMAYOR, with whom Justice GINSBURG joins, dissenting. We are fortunate to live in a democratic society. But without checks, democratically approved legislation can oppress minority groups. For that reason, our Constitution places limits on what a majority of the people may do. This case implicates one such limit: the guarantee of equal protection of the laws. Although that guarantee is traditionally understood to prohibit intentional discrimination under existing laws, equal protection does not end there. Another fundamental strand of our equal protection jurisprudence focuses on process, securing to all citizens the right to participate meaningfully and equally in self-government. That right is the bedrock of our democracy, for it preserves all other rights. Yet to know the history of our Nation is to understand its long and lamentable record of stymieing the right of racial minorities to participate in the political process. At first, the majority acted with an open, invidious purpose. Notwithstanding the command of the Fifteenth Amendment, certain States shut racial minorities out of the political process altogether by withholding the right to vote. This Court intervened to preserve that right. The majority tried again, replacing outright bans on voting with literacy tests, good character requirements, poll taxes, and gerrymandering. The Court was not fooled; it invalidated those measures, too. The majority persisted. This time, although it allowed the minority access to the political process, the majority changed the ground rules of the process so as to make it more difficult for the minority, and the minority alone, to obtain policies designed to foster racial integration. Although these political restructurings may not have been discriminatory in purpose, the Court reaffirmed the right of minority members of our society to participate meaningfully and equally in the political process. This case involves this last chapter of discrimination: A majority of the Michigan electorate changed the basic rules of the political process in that State in a manner that uniquely disadvantaged racial minorities. Prior to the enactment of the constitutional initiative at issue here, all of the admissions policies of Michigan's public colleges and universities-including race-sensitive admissions policies -were in the hands of each institution's governing board. The members of those boards are nominated by political parties and elected by the citizenry in statewide elections. After over a century of being shut out of Michigan's institutions of higher education, racial minorities in Michigan had succeeded in persuading the elected board representatives to adopt admissions policies that took into account the benefits of racial diversity. And this Court twice blessed such efforts-first in Regents of Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265, 98 S.Ct. 2733, 57 L.Ed.2d 750 (1978), and again in Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 123 S.Ct. 2325, 156 L.Ed.2d 304 (2003), a case that itself concerned a Michigan admissions policy. In the wake of Grutter, some voters in Michigan set out to eliminate the use of race-sensitive admissions policies. Those voters were of course free to pursue this end in any number of ways. For example, they could have persuaded existing board members to change their minds through individual or grassroots lobbying efforts, or through general public awareness campaigns. Or they could have mobilized efforts to vote uncooperative board members out of office, replacing them with members who would share their desire to abolish race-sensitive admissions policies. When this Court holds that the Constitution permits a particular policy, nothing prevents a majority of a State's voters from choosing not to adopt that policy. Our system of government encourages-and indeed, depends on-that type of democratic action. But instead, the majority of Michigan voters changed the rules in the middle of the game, reconfiguring the existing political process in Michigan in a manner that burdened racial minorities. They did so in the 2006 election by amending the Michigan Constitution to enact Art. I, § 26, which provides in relevant part that Michigan's public universities "shall not discriminate against, or grant preferential treatment to, any individual or group on the basis of race, sex, color, ethnicity, or national origin in the operation of public employment, public education, or public contracting." As a result of § 26, there are now two very different processes through which a Michigan citizen is permitted to influence the admissions policies of the State's universities: one for persons interested in race-sensitive admissions policies and one for everyone else. A citizen who is a University of Michigan alumnus, for instance, can advocate for an admissions policy that considers an applicant's legacy status by meeting individually with members of the Board of Regents to convince them of her views, by joining with other legacy parents to lobby the Board, or by voting for and supporting Board candidates who share her position. The same options are available to a citizen who wants the Board to adopt admissions policies that consider athleticism, geography, area of study, and so on. The one and only policy a Michigan citizen may not seek through this long-established process is a race-sensitive admissions policy that considers race in an individualized manner when it is clear that race-neutral alternatives are not adequate to achieve diversity. For that policy alone, the citizens of Michigan must undertake the daunting task of amending the State Constitution. Our precedents do not permit political restructurings that create one process for racial minorities and a separate, less burdensome process for everyone else. This Court has held that the Fourteenth Amendment does not tolerate "a political structure that treats all individuals as equals, yet more subtly distorts governmental processes in such a way as to place special burdens on the ability of minority groups to achieve beneficial legislation." Washington v. Seattle School Dist. No. 1, 458 U.S. 457, 467, 102 S.Ct. 3187, 73 L.Ed.2d 896 (1982) (internal quotation marks omitted). Such restructuring, the Court explained, "is no more permissible than denying [the minority] the [right to] vote, on an equal basis with others." Hunter v. Erickson, 393 U.S. 385, 391, 89 S.Ct. 557, 21 L.Ed.2d 616 (1969). In those cases- Hunter and Seattle -the Court recognized what is now known as the "political-process doctrine": When the majority reconfigures the political process in a manner that burdens only a racial minority, that alteration triggers strict judicial scrutiny. Today, disregarding stare decisis, a majority of the Court effectively discards those precedents. The plurality does so, it tells us, because the freedom actually secured by the Constitution is the freedom of self-government-because the majority of Michigan citizens "exercised their privilege to enact laws as a basic exercise of their democratic power." Ante, at 1636. It would be "demeaning to the democratic process," the plurality concludes, to disturb that decision in any way. Ante, at 1637 - 1638. This logic embraces majority rule without an important constitutional limit. The plurality's decision fundamentally misunderstands the nature of the injustice worked by § 26. This case is not, as the plurality imagines, about "who may resolve" the debate over the use of race in higher education admissions. Ante, at 1638. I agree wholeheartedly that nothing vests the resolution of that debate exclusively in the courts or requires that we remove it from the reach of the electorate. Rather, this case is about how the debate over the use of race-sensitive admissions policies may be resolved, contra, ibid. -that is, it must be resolved in constitutionally permissible ways. While our Constitution does not guarantee minority groups victory in the political process, it does guarantee them meaningful and equal access to that process. It guarantees that the majority may not win by stacking the political process against minority groups permanently, forcing the minority alone to surmount unique obstacles in pursuit of its goals-here, educational diversity that cannot reasonably be accomplished through race-neutral measures. Today, by permitting a majority of the voters in Michigan to do what our Constitution forbids, the Court ends the debate over race-sensitive admissions policies in Michigan in a manner that contravenes constitutional protections long recognized in our precedents. Like the plurality, I have faith that our citizenry will continue to learn from this Nation's regrettable history; that it will strive to move beyond those injustices towards a future of equality. And I, too, believe in the importance of public discourse on matters of public policy. But I part ways with the plurality when it suggests that judicial intervention in this case "impede[s]" rather than "advance[s]" the democratic process and the ultimate hope of equality. Ante, at 1637. I firmly believe that our role as judges includes policing the process of self-government and stepping in when necessary to secure the constitutional guarantee of equal protection. Because I would do so here, I respectfully dissent. I For much of its history, our Nation has denied to many of its citizens the right to participate meaningfully and equally in its politics. This is a history we strive to put behind us. But it is a history that still informs the society we live in, and so it is one we must address with candor. Because the political-process doctrine is best understood against the backdrop of this history, I will briefly trace its course. The Fifteenth Amendment, ratified after the Civil War, promised to racial minorities the right to vote. But many States ignored this promise. In addition to outright tactics of fraud, intimidation, and violence, there are countless examples of States categorically denying to racial minorities access to the political process. Consider Texas; there, a 1923 statute prevented racial minorities from participating in primary elections. After this Court declared that statute unconstitutional, Nixon v. Herndon, 273 U.S. 536, 540-541, 47 S.Ct. 446, 71 L.Ed. 759 (1927), Texas responded by changing the rules. It enacted a new statute that gave political parties themselves the right to determine who could participate in their primaries. Predictably, the Democratic Party specified that only white Democrats could participate in its primaries. Nixon v. Condon, 286 U.S. 73, 81-82, 52 S.Ct. 484, 76 L.Ed. 984 (1932). The Court invalidated that scheme, too. Id., at 89, 52 S.Ct. 484; see also Smith v. Allwright, 321 U.S. 649, 64 S.Ct. 757, 88 L.Ed. 987 (1944) ; Terry v. Adams, 345 U.S. 461, 73 S.Ct. 809, 97 L.Ed. 1152 (1953). Some States were less direct. Oklahoma was one of many that required all voters to pass a literacy test. But the test did not apply equally to all voters. Under a "grandfather clause," voters were exempt if their grandfathers had been voters or had served as soldiers before 1866. This meant, of course, that black voters had to pass the test, but many white voters did not. The Court held the scheme unconstitutional. Guinn v. United States, 238 U.S. 347, 35 S.Ct. 926, 59 L.Ed. 1340 (1915). In response, Oklahoma changed the rules. It enacted a new statute under which all voters who were qualified to vote in 1914 (under the unconstitutional grandfather clause) remained qualified, and the remaining voters had to apply for registration within a 12-day period. Lane v. Wilson, 307 U.S. 268, 270-271, 59 S.Ct. 872, 83 L.Ed. 1281 (1939). The Court struck down that statute as well. Id., at 275, 59 S.Ct. 872. Racial minorities were occasionally able to surmount the hurdles to their political participation. Indeed, in some States, minority citizens were even able to win elective office. But just as many States responded to the Fifteenth Amendment by subverting minorities' access to the polls, many States responded to the prospect of elected minority officials by undermining the ability of minorities to win and hold elective office. Some States blatantly removed black officials from local offices. See, e.g., H. Rabinowitz, Race Relations in the Urban South, 1865-1890, pp. 267, 269-270 (1978) (describing events in Tennessee and Virginia). Others changed the processes by which local officials were elected. See, e.g., Extension of the Voting Rights Act, Hearings before the Subcommittee on Civil and Constitutional Rights of the House Committee on the Judiciary, 97th Cong., 1st Sess., pt. 1, pp. 2016-2017 (1981) (hereinafter 1981 Hearings) (statement of Professor J. Morgan Kousser) (after a black judge refused to resign in Alabama, the legislature abolished the court on which he served and replaced it with one whose judges were appointed by the Governor); Rabinowitz, supra, at 269-270 (the North Carolina Legislature divested voters of the right to elect justices of the peace and county commissioners, then arrogated to itself the authority to select justices of the peace and gave them the power to select commissioners). This Court did not stand idly by. In Alabama, for example, the legislature responded to increased black voter registration in the city of Tuskegee by amending the State Constitution to authorize legislative abolition of the county in which Tuskegee was located, Ala. Const. Amdt. 132 (1957), repealed by Ala. Const. Amdt. 406 (1982), and by redrawing the city's boundaries to remove all the black voters "while not removing a single white voter," Gomillion v. Lightfoot, 364 U.S. 339, 341, 81 S.Ct. 125, 5 L.Ed.2d 110 (1960). The Court intervened, finding it "inconceivable that guaranties embedded in the Constitution " could be "manipulated out of existence" by being "cloaked in the garb of [political] realignment." Id., at 345, 81 S.Ct. 125 (internal quotation marks omitted). This Court's landmark ruling in Brown v. Board of Education, 347 U.S. 483, 74 S.Ct. 686, 98 L.Ed. 873 (1954), triggered a new era of political restructuring, this time in the context of education. In Virginia, the General Assembly transferred control of student assignment from local school districts to a State Pupil Placement Board. See B. Muse, Virginia's Massive Resistance 34, 74 (1961). And when the legislature learned that the Arlington County school board had prepared a desegregation plan, the General Assembly "swiftly retaliated" by stripping the county of its right to elect its school board by popular vote and instead making the board an appointed body. Id., at 24; see also B. Smith, They Closed Their Schools 142-143 (1965). Other States similarly disregarded this Court's mandate by changing their political process. See, e.g., Bush v. Orleans Parish School Bd., 187 F.Supp. 42, 44-45 (E.D.La.1960) (the Louisiana Legislature gave the Governor the authority to supersede any school board's decision to integrate); Extension of the Voting Rights Act, Hearings on H.R. 4249 et al. before Subcommittee No. 5 of the House Committee on the Judiciary, 91st Cong., 1st Sess., 146-149 (1969) (statement of Thomas E. Harris, Assoc. Gen. Counsel, American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations) (the Mississippi Legislature removed from the people the right to elect superintendents of education in 11 counties and instead made those positions appointive). The Court remained true to its command in Brown . In Arkansas, for example, it enforced a desegregation order against the Little Rock school board. Cooper v. Aaron, 358 U.S. 1, 5, 78 S.Ct. 1401, 3 L.Ed.2d 5 (1958). On the very day the Court announced that ruling, the Arkansas Legislature responded by changing the rules. It enacted a law permitting the Governor to close any public school in the State, and stripping local school districts of their decisionmaking authority so long as the Governor determined that local officials could not maintain " 'a general, suitable, and efficient educational system.' " Aaron v. Cooper, 261 F.2d 97, 99 (C.A.8 1958) (per curiam ) (quoting Arkansas statute). The then-Governor immediately closed all of Little Rock's high schools. Id., at 99-100; see also S. Breyer, Making Our Democracy Work 49-67 (2010) (discussing the events in Little Rock). The States' political restructuring efforts in the 1960's and 1970's went beyond the context of education. Many States tried to suppress the political voice of racial minorities more generally by reconfiguring the manner in which they filled vacancies in local offices, often transferring authority from the electorate (where minority citizens had a voice at the local level) to the States' executive branch (where minorities wielded little if any influence). See, e.g., 1981 Hearings, pt. 1, at 815 (report of J. Cox & A. Turner) (the Alabama Legislature changed all municipal judgeships from elective to appointive offices); id., at 1955 (report of R. Hudlin & K. Brimah, Voter Educ. Project, Inc.) (the Georgia Legislature eliminated some elective offices and made others appointive when it appeared that a minority candidate would be victorious); id., at 501 (statement of Frank R. Parker, Director, Lawyers' Comm. for Civil Rights Under Law) (the Mississippi Legislature changed the manner of filling vacancies for various public offices from election to appointment). II It was in this historical context that the Court int