If the Supreme Court undermines the Affordable Care Act’s contraceptive coverage requirements in two cases it hears next week, there will likely be one law to thank. That would, ironically, be the one signed and celebrated by Democrats and civil libertarians, originally opposed by social conservatives, and meant to undo a decision written by Justice Antonin Scalia — the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, or RFRA.
At the Act’s signing ceremony in 1993, Bill Clinton joked, “The power of God is such that even in the legislative process, miracles can happen.” He was talking about the rare left-right coalition that eventually came together to pass RFRA. But that coalition has since fractured over how far religious exemptions from general laws can go in impeding others’ rights.
On Tuesday, the business-friendly Roberts Court hears two challenges to the Affordable Care Act’s requirement that insurance plans cover birth control without a co-pay, which they say violates RFRA. Hobby Lobby, a craft chain, and Conestoga Wood, a cabinet-maker, say that their owners oppose some forms of birth control, which they conflate with abortion, contrary to scientific consensus. They’re two of the 41 for-profit companies insisting that government mandating coverage of contraception as preventive care is burdening their religious freedom.
Although the Court has to say once and for all whether corporations even count as religious persons under RFRA, so far the law has been the best bet for such cases in lower courts.
That leaves many of the initial backers of RFRA, many of whom foresaw it as a protecting religious freedom against government interference, not as a license to foist one’s religious beliefs on someone else, somewhere between baffled and furious.
‘It was never intended as a sword as opposed to a shield,” said Rep. Jerry Nadler, one of the architects of RFRA in the House. “Once you went into the commercial sector, you couldn’t claim a religious liberty to discriminate against somebody. That never came up. It was completely obvious we weren’t talking about that.”
The vaunted left-right alliance on RFRA has fallen apart over such claims. “If anyone had ever come up with a scenario like what’s been proposed by Hobby Lobby, that coalition would have exploded like someone hitting a watermelon with a shotgun,” said Barry Lynn of Americans United for Separation of Church and State. “There would have never been a Religious Freedom Restoration Act.”
Even if the Court decides corporations count as religion persons, it has to decide whether the contraceptive provision violates RFRA — weighing whether covering birth control on insurance plans is a substantial burden on the companies versus the government’s interest in women’s health. If the Court does rule for Hobby Lobby — very much an open question — the door will potentially be open to much broader claims of religious exemption from neutral laws, including anti-discrimination statutes and in transactions between private citizens. That was precisely the fear provoked by so-called ‘religious freedom’ bills being proposed in several states.
The next step, Lynn warned, could be “let’s go after equal pay, let’s go after the civil rights acts, let’s just go after everything that every religious right group doesn’t like and doesn’t want to obey.” He added, “I don’t know how the justices will ever be able to draw a line.”
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It all started with peyote.
Two members of the Native American Church in Oregon were fired from their positions as drug counselors for using the drug as part of a religious ritual, and then denied unemployment benefits because their drug use, though religious in nature, was considered work-related “misconduct.”
The two men argued that their First Amendment rights to free exercise of religion had been violated. The Supreme Court disagreed. Siding with the former counselors, wrote Justice Antonin Scalia in Employment Division v. Smith in 1990, would “open the prospect of constitutionally required religious exemptions from civic obligations of almost every conceivable kind.” The court majority lowered the legal standard by which governments were generally expected to accommodate individuals’ religious beliefs. The risk, Scalia wrote, would be “in effect to permit every citizen to become a law unto himself.”
The backlash to the decision was swift.
“Nothing mattered except that the religious community thought that the Supreme Court had slapped them in the face,” said William Galston, the former Clinton administration policy adviser who pushed for RFRA’s passage from the White House. “It wasn’t just the liberals, it wasn’t just the conservatives, it wasn’t just the mainstream Protestants, it was everybody.”
Shortly after the decision, Lynn said, activists across the political spectrum met with then-Democratic Massachusetts Sen. Ted Kennedy and Utah Republican Sen. Orrin Hatch to organize a coalition to overturn the decision.
Their main opponents, surprisingly enough, were the religious right. No less a fevered opponent of abortion than Rep. Henry Hyde initially opposed RFRA because he feared “proabortion groups” would claim that a woman had a right to an abortion on a religious basis. Hyde also thought it was probably unconstitutional to undo a decision by the Court that way: “We are a legislature, not the Court.” The Supreme Court later ruled that RFRA could only apply to federal laws, not state laws.
At that point, the Supreme Court was only months away from deciding a major abortion case, Planned Parenthood v. Casey, that many expected to overturn Roe v. Wade. Abortion opponents weren’t keen on potentially giving abortion rights another route.
That frustrated RFRA’s supporters, including Douglas Laycock, a law professor who remains a prominent voice in support of “religious liberty” bills. “I simply don’t understand why elements of the prolife community have allied themselves with people who are suspicious of all religious exemptions,” he testified before a House subcommittee in May 1992. “Conservatives need this bill as much as liberals. Mainstream liberals need it as much as minority faith.”
Laycock warned, “The most aggressive elements of the pro-choice, gay rights and feminist movements are not content to prevail in the larger society; they also want to impose their agenda on dissenting churches.” Reached by msnbc, Laycock said, “I said that in 1992? I was pretty smart. That’s what happened.”
Bill Clinton embraced the bill, which aligned with his identity as a New Democrat, comfortable with faith and seeking detente in the culture war. It also allowed the left to turn the tables on who, exactly, was defending religion, in what happened to be an election year.
On Crossfire, ACLU’s Nadine Strossen taunted Jerry Falwell, “It’s odd that the Republican party is touting its concern for religion and God when it is Bill Clinton who pledged that he would sign the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, something that President Bush did not say he would sign, and virtually every religious denomination in this country is vigorously supporting that, because it’s necessary to restore religious freedom that the Reagan-Bush Supreme Court has taken away.”
Once Clinton was elected, and with the Court having left the right to abortion formally in place with Casey, social conservatives figured Roe wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and threw their support behind RFRA.
By then, the consensus was overwhelming. “The sort of amazing thing is that people on the left and right, people who disagreed about so many things, somehow they all convinced themselves that religious liberty was wounded and needed to be fixed,” said Ira Lupu, a George Washington University Law School professor who testified about the law before the House. He was one of the rare skeptics. “I thought Congress was being sold a bill of goods,” he says now.
RFRA passed by a voice vote in the House, and by 97-3 vote in the Senate, with the only of the “no” votes being cast by Democrats Robert Byrd and Harlan Matthews and Republican Jesse Helms–Helms didn’t like that the bill didn’t exempt prisoners from its protections.
Galston’s memory of the signing ceremony is rendered in Benetton colors.
“I wish a painter had been there to paint it,” says Galston. “There were representatives of every conceivable faith in the United States, many of them decked out in full ceremonial garb. if you wanted to do Norman Rockwell on freedom of diversity and religion in the United States, you couldn’t have picked a better picture.”









