Legal Affairs

July|August 2003

The Blindfold of Justice

THE RECENTLY COMPLETED WARREN B. RUDMAN COURTHOUSE in Concord, N.H., sits across the street from the barbershop where Justice David Souter gets his hair cut when he's in town. When the courthouse was being planned, its designers agreed that the building's only work of art should be a statue of Justice, but there wasn't a consensus about what the figure should wear. The sculptor, Diana Moore, wanted her to wear nothing at all, but, as The Boston Globe reported, the federal judges who were going to call the courthouse home objected. Moore suggested pants and a tight T-shirt, an ensemble that would expose Justice's navel, but the judges didn't go for that either. So the stainless steel sculpture ended up in a more traditional full-length gown.

Moore lost the sartorial battle, but her statue still offers a compelling and unusual interpretation, capturing Justice reaching above her head to tighten the knot in her blindfold. Rather than having been blindfolded, Moore's Justice imposes the symbol of impartiality on herself.

The blindfold is a relatively late addition to the imagery associated with Justice, as Professors Judith Resnik and Dennis Curtis of Yale Law School point out in their work tracing the history of the symbol. Before the 16th century, illustrated manuscripts, paintings, and statues usually depicted her as being able to see. The image of blind Justice didn't become popular until the early Renaissance, and even then it wasn't quite the image that we know now. The artists who gave Justice a blindfold did so almost cynically. Dürer showed Justice being blindfolded by a fool leading her astray. Brueghel surrounded Justice with various forms of punishments; the blindfold is there, some suggest, so she doesn't see the many injuries imposed in her name. The blindfold became a more common motif during the 17th century and after, when the idea began to take hold that the judiciary should stand apart from the sovereign. Justice blindfolded can't see the signals a sovereign might send on how to rule in a case.

But the negative connotations of the symbol have lingered on. Do we want judges who blindly apply the law or ones capable of weighing the mitigating details that can't be seen through the blindfold? Congress, which has just overwhelmingly passed legislation stripping federal judges of the discretion to give prison sentences shorter than those recommended by federal sentencing guidelines, seems to prefer the former model. Diana Moore's Justice may be free to adjust her blindfold as she sees fit, but the federal judges who sit on the bench at the Rudman Courthouse have their hands tied.

—THE EDITORS



					July\|August 2003 The Blindfold of Justice THE RECENTLY COMPLETED WARREN B. RUDMAN COURTHOUSE in Concord, N.H., sits across the street from the barbershop where Justice David Souter gets his hair cut when he's in town. When the courthouse was being planned, its designers agreed that the building's only work of art should be a statue of Justice, but there wasn't a consensus about what the figure should wear. The sculptor, Diana Moore, wanted her to wear nothing at all, but, as The Boston Globe reported, the federal judges who were going to call the courthouse home objected. Moore suggested pants and a tight T-shirt, an ensemble that would expose Justice's navel, but the judges didn't go for that either. So the stainless steel sculpture ended up in a more traditional full-length gown. Moore lost the sartorial battle, but her statue still offers a compelling and unusual interpretation, capturing Justice reaching above her head to tighten the knot in her blindfold. Rather than having been blindfolded, Moore's Justice imposes the symbol of impartiality on herself. The blindfold is a relatively late addition to the imagery associated with Justice, as Professors Judith Resnik and Dennis Curtis of Yale Law School point out in their work tracing the history of the symbol. Before the 16th century, illustrated manuscripts, paintings, and statues usually depicted her as being able to see. The image of blind Justice didn't become popular until the early Renaissance, and even then it wasn't quite the image that we know now. The artists who gave Justice a blindfold did so almost cynically. Dürer showed Justice being blindfolded by a fool leading her astray. Brueghel surrounded Justice with various forms of punishments; the blindfold is there, some suggest, so she doesn't see the many injuries imposed in her name. The blindfold became a more common motif during the 17th century and after, when the idea began to take hold that the judiciary should stand apart from the sovereign. Justice blindfolded can't see the signals a sovereign might send on how to rule in a case. But the negative connotations of the symbol have lingered on. Do we want judges who blindly apply the law or ones capable of weighing the mitigating details that can't be seen through the blindfold? Congress, which has just overwhelmingly passed legislation stripping federal judges of the discretion to give prison sentences shorter than those recommended by federal sentencing guidelines, seems to prefer the former model. Diana Moore's Justice may be free to adjust her blindfold as she sees fit, but the federal judges who sit on the bench at the Rudman Courthouse have their hands tied. —THE EDITORS