Thomas, J., dissenting
son (who is black) in the 2016 Republican Presidential primary. Next, the court observed that black candidates rarely win statewide elections in Alabama and that black state legislators overwhelmingly come from majority-minority districts. The court then reviewed Alabama’s history of racial discrimination, noted other voting-rights cases in which the State was found liable, and cataloged socioeconomic disparities between black and white Alabamians in everything from car ownership to health insurance coverage. The court attributed these disparities “at least in part” to the State’s history of discrimination and found that they hinder black residents from participating in politics today, notwithstanding the fact that black and white Alabamians register and turn out to vote at similar rates. Id., at 1021–1022. Last, the court interpreted a handful of comments by three white politicians as “racial campaign appeals.” Id., at 1023–1024.
In reviewing this march through the Senate factors, it is impossible to discern any overarching standard or central question, only what might be called an impressionistic moral audit of Alabama’s racial past and present. Nor is it possible to determine any logical nexus between this audit and the remedy ordered: a congressional districting plan in which black Alabamians can control more than one seat. Given the District Court’s finding that two reasonably configured majority-black districts could be drawn, would Alabama’s one-district map have been acceptable if Ben Carson had won the 2016 primary, or if a greater number of black Alabamians owned cars?
The idea that such factors could explain the District Court’s judgment line is absurd. The plaintiffs’ claims pose one simple question: What is the “right” number of Alabama’s congressional seats that black voters who support Democrats “should” control? Neither the Senate factors nor the Gingles framework as a whole offers any principled answer.
