Justice Clarence Thomas’s eye-catching February 25 dissent in a prison-beating case left one thing a bit unclear. Suppose that instead of just loosening a few of the handcuffed prisoner’s teeth and mussing up his face while their supervisor was admonishing them "not to have too much fun," the two Louisiana penitentiary guards had gotten a little bit rough.
Suppose that they had broken both his legs, or stretched him out on a medieval rack, or torn out his fingernails, or cut off his hand, Saudi-style, or locked him naked in a freezing room.
Would that be "cruel and unusual punishment"?
No way, Thomas and his ideological mentor Antonin Scalia seem at first to suggest in Hudson v. McMillian: The Eighth Amendment was conceived two centuries ago only as a protection against punishments meted out by judges and legislatures-not against anything done to a convict once arrived at prison.
As history, that may be plausible. As constitutional law for 1992, it’s hard to stomach.
Which is why Thomas and Scalia don’t really press the point. Instead, they premise most of thei dissent on narrower grounds, indicating that they might uphold Keith Hudson’s $800 damage aware if he had suffered "serious injury."
In doing so, they expose the flaw at the heart of the "originalist" jurisprudence of which Scalia and Robert Bork are the guru’s, Thomas is an awkward apprentice, Chief Justice William Rehnquist a dabbler, and Ed Meese was once mass-marketer:
Taken to its logical conclusions, originalism leads to results intolerable even to its most ardent expositors.
These results would include constitutional indifference not only to the torture of convicts, but also to most forms of racial discrimination, ranging from state-enforced segregation of black children (the norm when the 14th Amendment was adopted) to quotas that discriminate against white males.