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Supreme Court

Sandra Day O'Connor served as a justice on the U.S. Supreme Court from 1981 to 2006. This page lists the opinions she wrote during her time on the court.

Post Retirement Opinions

After her retirement from the Supreme Court, Sandra Day O'Connor continued to hear cases in the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit as a designated judge.

Arizona Appellate Court Opinions

Sandra Day O'Connor served as a judge on the Arizona Court of Appeals from 1980 to 1981. This page lists the opinions she wrote during her time on the state bench.

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Dodd v. United States

Justice O’Connor delivered the opinion of the Court.

Title 28 U. S. C. §2255 establishes a “1-year period of limitation” within which a federal prisoner may file a motion to vacate, set aside, or correct his sentence under that section. That period runs from “the latest” of a number of events, which are enumerated in subparagraphs (1) through (4) of ¶6 of that section. This case involves subparagraph (3), which provides that the limitation period begins to run on “the date on which the right asserted was initially recognized by the Supreme Court, if that right has been newly recognized by the Supreme Court and made retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review.” We must decide whether the date from which the limitation period begins to run under ¶6(3) is the date on which this Court “initially recognized” the right asserted in an applicant’s §2255 motion, or whether, instead, it is the date on which the right is “made retroactiv[e].”

I
Petitioner Michael Donald Dodd was indicted on June 25, 1993, for knowingly and intentionally engaging in a continuing criminal enterprise in violation of 21 U. S. C. §§841 and 846, conspiring to possess with intent to distribute marijuana in violation of §841(a)(1), conspiring to possess with intent to distribute cocaine in violation of §841(a)(1), and 16 counts of using and possessing a passport obtained by false statement in violation of 18 U. S. C. §1546(a). He was convicted of all counts except the cocaine charge, and was sentenced to 360 months’ imprisonment followed by five years of supervised release. The Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit affirmed on May 7, 1997. 111 F. 3d 867 (per curiam). Because Dodd did not file a petition for certiorari, his conviction became final on August 6, 1997. See Clay v. United States, 537 U. S. 522, 525 (2003).

On April 4, 2001, more than three years after his conviction became final, Dodd filed a pro se motion under 28 U. S. C. §2255 seeking to set aside his conviction for knowingly and intentionally engaging in a continuing criminal enterprise, based on our decision in Richardson v. United States, 526 U. S. 813 (1999). Richardson held that a jury must agree unanimously that a defendant is guilty of each of the specific violations that together constitute the continuing criminal enterprise. Id., at 815. Dodd argued, among other things, that he was entitled to relief because his jury had not been instructed that they had to agree unanimously on each predicate violation. App. 9. The District Court dismissed Dodd’s §2255 motion as time barred. Id., at 11–15. Because Richardson had been decided more than one year before Dodd filed his motion, the court held that the motion was untimely; it also rejected Dodd’s request for equitable tolling. App. 13–15.

Dodd appealed, arguing that the limitation period in §2255, ¶6(3), did not begin to run until April 19, 2002, when the Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit held in Ross v. United States, 289 F. 3d 677, that the right recognized in Richardson applies retroactively to cases on collateral review. The Eleventh Circuit held that the limitation period began to run on “the date the Supreme Court initially recognizes the right”—the date Richardson was decided—and accordingly affirmed the dismissal of Dodd’s motion as time barred. 365 F. 3d 1273, 1283 (2004).

We granted certiorari, 543 U. S. __ (2004), to resolve a conflict in the Courts of Appeals over when the limitation period in ¶6(3) begins to run. Compare, e.g., 365 F. 3d, at 1283 (case below) (period runs from date of Supreme Court decision initially recognizing right asserted); and United States v. Lopez, 248 F. 3d 427, 432–433 (CA5 2001) (same), with Pryor v. United States, 278 F. 3d 612, 616 (CA6 2002) (period does not begin to run until right has been held retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review); and United States v. Valdez, 195 F. 3d 544, 547–548 (CA9 1999) (same).

II
Section 2255, ¶6, provides:

“A 1-year period of limitation shall apply to a motion under this section. The limitation period shall run from the latest of—

“(1) the date on which the judgment of conviction becomes final;

“(2) the date on which the impediment to making a motion created by governmental action in violation of the Constitution or laws of the United States is removed, if the movant was prevented from making a motion by such governmental action;

“(3) the date on which the right asserted was initially recognized by the Supreme Court, if that right has been newly recognized by the Supreme Court and made retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review; or

“(4) the date on which the facts supporting the claim or claims presented could have been discovered through the exercise of due diligence.”

In most cases, the operative date from which the limitation period is measured will be the one identified in ¶6(1): “the date on which the judgment of conviction becomes final.” Ibid. ; see also Clay, supra, at 524. But later filings are permitted where subparagraphs (2)–(4) apply. This case involves ¶6(3), which gives §2255 applicants one year from “the date on which the right asserted was initially recognized by the Supreme Court, if that right has been newly recognized by the Supreme Court and made retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review.” Dodd contends that under subparagraph (3), the limitation period runs from the date on which the right asserted was made retroactively applicable. The United States, on the other hand, argues that it runs from the date on which this Court initially recognized the right asserted.

We believe that the text of ¶6(3) settles this dispute. It unequivocally identifies one, and only one, date from which the 1-year limitation period is measured: “the date on which the right asserted was initially recognized by the Supreme Court.” We “must presume that [the] legislature says in a statute what it means and means in a statute what it says there.” Connecticut Nat. Bank v. Germain, 503 U. S. 249, 253–254 (1992). What Congress has said in ¶6(3) is clear: an applicant has one year from the date on which the right he asserts was initially recognized by this Court.

Dodd urges us to adopt a different interpretation. He contends that the second clause in ¶6(3) affects the applicable date under that provision. He reads ¶6(3) as containing “three distinct prerequisites” that “must be satisfied before the limitation period begins.” Brief for Petitioner 8. Those three prerequisites are: (1) the right asserted by the applicant “was initially recognized” by this Court; (2) this Court “newly recognized” the right; and (3) a court must have “made” the right “retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review.” Id., at 13–14 (internal quotation marks omitted). Because the Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit did not hold the right recognized in Richardson v. United States, 526 U. S. 813 (1999), retroactively applicable until April 19, 2002, when it decided Ross, 289 F. 3d 677, Dodd contends that he had until April 19, 2003—one year from the date when all three prerequisites were satisfied—to file his §2255 motion.

Dodd’s interpretation does not square with the only natural reading of the text. Paragraph 6(3) identifies one date and one date only as the date from which the 1-year limitation period runs: “the date on which the right asserted was initially recognized by the Supreme Court.” Dodd’s reliance on the second clause to identify the operative date is misplaced. That clause—“if that right has been newly recognized by the Supreme Court and made retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review”—imposes a condition on the applicability of this subsection. See Webster’s Third New International Dictionary 1124 (1993) (the definition of “if ” is “in the event that” or “on condition that”). It therefore limits ¶6(3)’s application to cases in which applicants are seeking to assert rights “newly recognized by the Supreme Court and made retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review.” §2255, ¶6(3). That means that ¶6(3)’s date—“the date on which the right asserted was initially recognized by the Supreme Court”—does not apply at all if the conditions in the second clause—the right “has been newly recognized by the Supreme Court and made retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review”—have not been satisfied. As long as the conditions in the second clause are satisfied so that ¶6(3) applies in the first place, that clause has no impact whatsoever on the date from which the 1-year limitation period in ¶6(3) begins to run. Thus, if this Court decides a case recognizing a new right, a federal prisoner seeking to assert that right will have one year from this Court’s decision within which to file his §2255 motion. He may take advantage of the date in the first clause of ¶6(3) only if the conditions in the second clause are met.

We recognize that the statute of limitations in ¶6(3) makes it difficult for applicants filing second or successive §2255 motions to obtain relief. The limitation period in ¶6(3) applies to “all motions” under §2255, initial motions as well as second or successive ones. Section 2255, ¶8(2), narrowly restricts an applicant’s ability to file a second or successive motion. An applicant may file a second or successive motion only in limited circumstances, such as where he seeks to take advantage of “a new rule of constitutional law, made retroactive to cases on collateral review by the Supreme Court, that was previously unavailable.” §2255, ¶8(2). Dodd points out that this Court rarely decides that a new rule is retroactively applicable within one year of initially recognizing that right. Thus, because of the interplay between ¶¶8(2) and 6(3), an applicant who files a second or successive motion seeking to take advantage of a new rule of constitutional law will be time barred except in the rare case in which this Court announces a new rule of constitutional law and makes it retroactive within one year.

Although we recognize the potential for harsh results in some cases, we are not free to rewrite the statute that Congress has enacted. “[W]hen the statute’s language is plain, the sole function of the courts—at least where the disposition required by the text is not absurd—is to enforce it according to its terms.” Hartford Underwriters Ins. Co. v. Union Planters Bank, N. A., 530 U. S. 1, 6 (2000) (internal quotation marks omitted). See also Tyler v. Cain, 533 U. S. 656, 663, n. 5 (2001) (“[E]ven if we disagreed with the legislative decision to establish stringent procedural requirements for retroactive application of new rules, we do not have license to question the decision on policy grounds”). The disposition required by the text here, though strict, is not absurd. It is for Congress, not this Court, to amend the statute if it believes that the interplay of ¶¶8(2) and 6(3) of §2255 unduly restricts federal prisoners’ ability to file second or successive motions.

Justice Stevens would hold, contrary to the plain text, that the limitation period in ¶6(3) begins to run when the right asserted is made retroactive, see post, at 9–10 (dissenting opinion), because he assumes that “the most natural reading of the statutory text would make it possible for the limitations period to expire before the cause of action accrues,” post, at 1. Justice Stevens analogizes this case to Graham County Soil & Water Conservation Dist. v. United States, ex rel. Wilson, post, p. __, see post, at 1 (dissenting opinion), but Graham Count y is distinguishable. The text of the statute at issue in Graham County is ambiguous, justifying the Court’s partial reliance on “the ‘standard rule that the limitations period commences when the plaintiff has a complete and present cause of action.’ ” See Graham County, post, at 5–8, and n. 2. Here, there is no such ambiguity; ¶6(3) clearly specifies the date on which the limitation period begins to run.

III
Dodd’s §2255 motion sought to benefit from our holding in Richardson, supra, which was decided on June 1, 1999. Thus, he had one year from that date within which to file his motion. Because he did not file his motion until April 4, 2001, the motion was untimely. We therefore affirm the judgment of the Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit.

It is so ordered.

Kelo v. New London

Justice O’Connor, with whom The Chief Justice, Justice Scalia, and Justice Thomas join, dissenting.

Over two centuries ago, just after the Bill of Rights was ratified, Justice Chase wrote:

“An act of the Legislature (for I cannot call it a law) contrary to the great first principles of the social compact, cannot be considered a rightful exercise of legislative authority …. A few instances will suffice to explain what I mean…. [A] law that takes property from A. and gives it to B: It is against all reason and justice, for a people to entrust a Legislature with such powers; and, therefore, it cannot be presumed that they have done it.” Calder v. Bull, 3 Dall. 386, 388 (1798) (emphasis deleted).

Today the Court abandons this long-held, basic limitation on government power. Under the banner of economic development, all private property is now vulnerable to being taken and transferred to another private owner, so long as it might be upgraded— i.e., given to an owner who will use it in a way that the legislature deems more beneficial to the public—in the process. To reason, as the Court does, that the incidental public benefits resulting from the subsequent ordinary use of private property render economic development takings “for public use” is to wash out any distinction between private and public use of property—and thereby effectively to delete the words “for public use” from the Takings Clause of the Fifth Amendment. Accordingly I respectfully dissent.

I
Petitioners are nine resident or investment owners of 15 homes in the Fort Trumbull neighborhood of New London, Connecticut. Petitioner Wilhelmina Dery, for example, lives in a house on Walbach Street that has been in her family for over 100 years. She was born in the house in 1918; her husband, petitioner Charles Dery, moved into the house when they married in 1946. Their son lives next door with his family in the house he received as a wedding gift, and joins his parents in this suit. Two petitioners keep rental properties in the neighborhood.

In February 1998, Pfizer Inc., the pharmaceuticals manufacturer, announced that it would build a global research facility near the Fort Trumbull neighborhood. Two months later, New London’s city council gave initial approval for the New London Development Corporation (NLDC) to prepare the development plan at issue here. The NLDC is a private, nonprofit corporation whose mission is to assist the city council in economic development planning. It is not elected by popular vote, and its directors and employees are privately appointed. Consistent with its mandate, the NLDC generated an ambitious plan for redeveloping 90 acres of Fort Trumbull in order to “complement the facility that Pfizer was planning to build, create jobs, increase tax and other revenues, encourage public access to and use of the city’s waterfront, and eventually ‘build momentum’ for the revitalization of the rest of the city.” App. to Pet. for Cert. 5.

Petitioners own properties in two of the plan’s seven parcels—Parcel 3 and Parcel 4A. Under the plan, Parcel 3 is slated for the construction of research and office space as a market develops for such space. It will also retain the existing Italian Dramatic Club (a private cultural organization) though the homes of three plaintiffs in that parcel are to be demolished. Parcel 4A is slated, mysteriously, for “ ‘park support.’ ” Id., at 345–346. At oral argument, counsel for respondents conceded the vagueness of this proposed use, and offered that the parcel might eventually be used for parking. Tr. of Oral Arg. 36.

To save their homes, petitioners sued New London and the NLDC, to whom New London has delegated eminent domain power. Petitioners maintain that the Fifth Amendment prohibits the NLDC from condemning their properties for the sake of an economic development plan. Petitioners are not hold-outs; they do not seek increased compensation, and none is opposed to new development in the area. Theirs is an objection in principle: They claim that the NLDC’s proposed use for their confiscated property is not a “public” one for purposes of the Fifth Amendment. While the government may take their homes to build a road or a railroad or to eliminate a property use that harms the public, say petitioners, it cannot take their property for the private use of other owners simply because the new owners may make more productive use of the property.

II
The Fifth Amendment to the Constitution, made applicable to the States by the Fourteenth Amendment, provides that “private property [shall not] be taken for public use, without just compensation.” When interpreting the Constitution, we begin with the unremarkable presumption that every word in the document has independent meaning, “that no word was unnecessarily used, or needlessly added.” Wright v. United States, 302 U. S. 583, 588 (1938). In keeping with that presumption, we have read the Fifth Amendment’s language to impose two distinct conditions on the exercise of eminent domain: “the taking must be for a ‘public use’ and ‘just compensation’ must be paid to the owner.” Brown v. Legal Foundation of Wash., 538 U. S. 216, 231–232 (2003).

These two limitations serve to protect “the security of Property,” which Alexander Hamilton described to the Philadelphia Convention as one of the “great obj[ects] of Gov[ernment].” 1 Records of the Federal Convention of 1787, p. 302 (M. Farrand ed. 1934). Together they ensure stable property ownership by providing safeguards against excessive, unpredictable, or unfair use of the government’s eminent domain power—particularly against those owners who, for whatever reasons, may be unable to protect themselves in the political process against the majority’s will.

While the Takings Clause presupposes that government can take private property without the owner’s consent, the just compensation requirement spreads the cost of condemnations and thus “prevents the public from loading upon one individual more than his just share of the burdens of government.” Monongahela Nav. Co. v. United States, 148 U. S. 312, 325 (1893); see also Armstrong v. United States, 364 U. S. 40, 49 (1960). The public use requirement, in turn, imposes a more basic limitation, circumscribing the very scope of the eminent domain power: Government may compel an individual to forfeit her property for the public’s use, but not for the benefit of another private person. This requirement promotes fairness as well as security. Cf. Tahoe-Sierra Preservation Council, Inc. v. Tahoe Regional Planning Agency, 535 U. S. 302, 336 (2002) (“The concepts of ‘fairness and justice’ … underlie the Takings Clause”).

Where is the line between “public” and “private” property use? We give considerable deference to legislatures’ determinations about what governmental activities will advantage the public. But were the political branches the sole arbiters of the public-private distinction, the Public Use Clause would amount to little more than hortatory fluff. An external, judicial check on how the public use requirement is interpreted, however limited, is necessary if this constraint on government power is to retain any meaning. See Cincinnati v. Vester, 281 U. S. 439, 446 (1930) (“It is well established that … the question [of] what is a public use is a judicial one”).

Our cases have generally identified three categories of takings that comply with the public use requirement, though it is in the nature of things that the boundaries between these categories are not always firm. Two are relatively straightforward and uncontroversial. First, the sovereign may transfer private property to public ownership—such as for a road, a hospital, or a military base. See, e.g., Old Dominion Land Co. v. United States, 269 U. S. 55 (1925); Rindge Co. v. County of Los Angeles, 262 U. S. 700 (1923). Second, the sovereign may transfer private property to private parties, often common carriers, who make the property available for the public’s use—such as with a railroad, a public utility, or a stadium. See, e.g., National Railroad Passenger Corporation v. Boston & Maine Corp., 503 U. S. 407 (1992); Mt. Vernon-Woodberry Cotton Duck Co. v. Alabama Interstate Power Co., 240 U. S. 30 (1916). But “public ownership” and “use-by-the-public” are sometimes too constricting and impractical ways to define the scope of the Public Use Clause. Thus we have allowed that, in certain circumstances and to meet certain exigencies, takings that serve a public purpose also satisfy the Constitution even if the property is destined for subsequent private use. See, e.g., Berman v. Parker, 348 U. S. 26 (1954); Hawaii Housing Authority v. Midkiff, 467 U. S. 229 (1984).

This case returns us for the first time in over 20 years to the hard question of when a purportedly “public purpose” taking meets the public use requirement. It presents an issue of first impression: Are economic development takings constitutional? I would hold that they are not. We are guided by two precedents about the taking of real property by eminent domain. In Berman, we upheld takings within a blighted neighborhood of Washington, D. C. The neighborhood had so deteriorated that, for example, 64.3% of its dwellings were beyond repair. 348 U. S., at 30. It had become burdened with “overcrowding of dwellings,” “lack of adequate streets and alleys,” and “lack of light and air.” Id., at 34. Congress had determined that the neighborhood had become “injurious to the public health, safety, morals, and welfare” and that it was necessary to “eliminat[e] all such injurious conditions by employing all means necessary and appropriate for the purpose,” including eminent domain. Id., at 28. Mr. Berman’s department store was not itself blighted. Having approved of Congress’ decision to eliminate the harm to the public emanating from the blighted neighborhood, however, we did not second-guess its decision to treat the neighborhood as a whole rather than lot-by-lot. Id., at 34–35; see also Midkiff, 467 U. S., at 244 (“it is only the taking’s purpose, and not its mechanics, that must pass scrutiny”).

In Midkiff, we upheld a land condemnation scheme in Hawaii whereby title in real property was taken from lessors and transferred to lessees. At that time, the State and Federal Governments owned nearly 49% of the State’s land, and another 47% was in the hands of only 72 private landowners. Concentration of land ownership was so dramatic that on the State’s most urbanized island, Oahu, 22 landowners owned 72.5% of the fee simple titles. Id., at 232. The Hawaii Legislature had concluded that the oligopoly in land ownership was “skewing the State’s residential fee simple market, inflating land prices, and injuring the public tranquility and welfare,” and therefore enacted a condemnation scheme for redistributing title. Ibid.

In those decisions, we emphasized the importance of deferring to legislative judgments about public purpose. Because courts are ill-equipped to evaluate the efficacy of proposed legislative initiatives, we rejected as unworkable the idea of courts’ “ ‘deciding on what is and is not a governmental function and … invalidating legislation on the basis of their view on that question at the moment of decision, a practice which has proved impracticable in other fields.’ ” Id., at 240–241 (quoting United States ex rel. TVA v. Welch, 327 U. S. 546, 552 (1946)); see Berman, supra, at 32 (“[T]he legislature, not the judiciary, is the main guardian of the public needs to be served by social legislation”); see also Lingle v. Chevron U. S. A., Inc., 544 U. S. __ (2005). Likewise, we recognized our inability to evaluate whether, in a given case, eminent domain is a necessary means by which to pursue the legislature’s ends. Midkiff, supra, at 242; Berman, supra, at 103.

Yet for all the emphasis on deference, Berman and Midkiff hewed to a bedrock principle without which our public use jurisprudence would collapse: “A purely private taking could not withstand the scrutiny of the public use requirement; it would serve no legitimate purpose of government and would thus be void.” Midkiff, 467 U. S., at 245; id., at 241 (“[T]he Court’s cases have repeatedly stated that ‘one person’s property may not be taken for the benefit of another private person without a justifying public purpose, even though compensation be paid’ ” (quoting Thompson v. Consolidated Gas Util. Corp., 300 U. S. 55, 80 (1937))); see also Missouri Pacific R. Co. v. Nebraska, 164 U. S. 403, 417 (1896). To protect that principle, those decisions reserved “a role for courts to play in reviewing a legislature’s judgment of what constitutes a public use … [though] the Court in Berman made clear that it is ‘an extremely narrow’ one.” Midkiff, supra, at 240 (quoting Berman, supra, at 32).

The Court’s holdings in Berman and Midkiff were true to the principle underlying the Public Use Clause. In both those cases, the extraordinary, precondemnation use of the targeted property inflicted affirmative harm on society—in Berman through blight resulting from extreme poverty and in Midkiff through oligopoly resulting from extreme wealth. And in both cases, the relevant legislative body had found that eliminating the existing property use was necessary to remedy the harm. Berman, supra, at 28–29; Midkiff, supra, at 232. Thus a public purpose was realized when the harmful use was eliminated. Because each taking directly achieved a public benefit, it did not matter that the property was turned over to private use. Here, in contrast, New London does not claim that Susette Kelo’s and Wilhelmina Dery’s well-maintained homes are the source of any social harm. Indeed, it could not so claim without adopting the absurd argument that any single-family home that might be razed to make way for an apartment building, or any church that might be replaced with a retail store, or any small business that might be more lucrative if it were instead part of a national franchise, is inherently harmful to society and thus within the government’s power to condemn.

In moving away from our decisions sanctioning the condemnation of harmful property use, the Court today significantly expands the meaning of public use. It holds that the sovereign may take private property currently put to ordinary private use, and give it over for new, ordinary private use, so long as the new use is predicted to generate some secondary benefit for the public—such as increased tax revenue, more jobs, maybe even aesthetic pleasure. But nearly any lawful use of real private property can be said to generate some incidental benefit to the public. Thus, if predicted (or even guaranteed) positive side-effects are enough to render transfer from one private party to another constitutional, then the words “for public use” do not realistically exclude any takings, and thus do not exert any constraint on the eminent domain power.

There is a sense in which this troubling result follows from errant language in Berman and Midkiff. In discussing whether takings within a blighted neighborhood were for a public use, Berman began by observing: “We deal, in other words, with what traditionally has been known as the police power.” 348 U. S., at 32. From there it declared that “[o]nce the object is within the authority of Congress, the right to realize it through the exercise of eminent domain is clear.” Id., at 33. Following up, we said in Midkiff that “[t]he ‘public use’ requirement is coterminous with the scope of a sovereign’s police powers.” 467 U. S., at 240. This language was unnecessary to the specific holdings of those decisions. Berman and Midkiff simply did not put such language to the constitutional test, because the takings in those cases were within the police power but also for “public use” for the reasons I have described. The case before us now demonstrates why, when deciding if a taking’s purpose is constitutional, the police power and “public use” cannot always be equated. The Court protests that it does not sanction the bare transfer from A to B for B’s benefit. It suggests two limitations on what can be taken after today’s decision. First, it maintains a role for courts in ferreting out takings whose sole purpose is to bestow a benefit on the private transferee—without detailing how courts are to conduct that complicated inquiry. Ante, at 7. For his part, Justice Kennedy suggests that courts may divine illicit purpose by a careful review of the record and the process by which a legislature arrived at the decision to take—without specifying what courts should look for in a case with different facts, how they will know if they have found it, and what to do if they do not. Ante, at 2–3 (concurring opinion). Whatever the details of Justice Kennedy’s as-yet-undisclosed test, it is difficult to envision anyone but the “stupid staff[er]” failing it. See Lucas v. South Carolina Coastal Council, 505 U. S. 1003, 1025–1026, n. 12 (1992). The trouble with economic development takings is that private benefit and incidental public benefit are, by definition, merged and mutually reinforcing. In this case, for example, any boon for Pfizer or the plan’s developer is difficult to disaggregate from the promised public gains in taxes and jobs. See App. to Pet. for Cert. 275–277.

Even if there were a practical way to isolate the motives behind a given taking, the gesture toward a purpose test is theoretically flawed. If it is true that incidental public benefits from new private use are enough to ensure the “public purpose” in a taking, why should it matter, as far as the Fifth Amendment is concerned, what inspired the taking in the first place? How much the government does or does not desire to benefit a favored private party has no bearing on whether an economic development taking will or will not generate secondary benefit for the public. And whatever the reason for a given condemnation, the effect is the same from the constitutional perspective—private property is forcibly relinquished to new private ownership.

A second proposed limitation is implicit in the Court’s opinion. The logic of today’s decision is that eminent domain may only be used to upgrade—not downgrade—property. At best this makes the Public Use Clause redundant with the Due Process Clause, which already prohibits irrational government action. See Lingle, 544 U. S. __. The Court rightfully admits, however, that the judiciary cannot get bogged down in predictive judgments about whether the public will actually be better off after a property transfer. In any event, this constraint has no realistic import. For who among us can say she already makes the most productive or attractive possible use of her property? The specter of condemnation hangs over all property. Nothing is to prevent the State from replacing any Motel 6 with a Ritz-Carlton, any home with a shopping mall, or any farm with a factory. Cf. Bugryn v. Bristol, 63 Conn. App. 98, 774 A. 2d 1042 (2001) (taking the homes and farm of four owners in their 70’s and 80’s and giving it to an “industrial park”); 99 Cents Only Stores v. Lancaster Redevelopment Authority, 237 F. Supp. 2d 1123 (CD Cal. 2001) (attempted taking of 99 Cents store to replace with a Costco); Poletown Neighborhood Council v. Detroit, 410 Mich. 616, 304 N. W. 2d 455 (1981) (taking a working-class, immigrant community in Detroit and giving it to a General Motors assembly plant), overruled by County of Wayne v. Hathcock, 471 Mich. 415, 684 N. W. 2d 765 (2004); Brief for the Becket Fund for Religious Liberty as Amicus Curiae 4–11 (describing takings of religious institutions’ properties); Institute for Justice, D. Berliner, Public Power, Private Gain: A Five-Year, State-by-State Report Examining the Abuse of Eminent Domain (2003) (collecting accounts of economic development takings).

The Court also puts special emphasis on facts peculiar to this case: The NLDC’s plan is the product of a relatively careful deliberative process; it proposes to use eminent domain for a multipart, integrated plan rather than for isolated property transfer; it promises an array of incidental benefits (even aesthetic ones), not just increased tax revenue; it comes on the heels of a legislative determination that New London is a depressed municipality. See, e.g., ante, at 16 (“[A] one-to-one transfer of property, executed outside the confines of an integrated development plan, is not presented in this case”). Justice Kennedy, too, takes great comfort in these facts. Ante, at 4 (concurring opinion). But none has legal significance to blunt the force of today’s holding. If legislative prognostications about the secondary public benefits of a new use can legitimate a taking, there is nothing in the Court’s rule or in Justice Kennedy’s gloss on that rule to prohibit property transfers generated with less care, that are less comprehensive, that happen to result from less elaborate process, whose only projected advantage is the incidence of higher taxes, or that hope to transform an already prosperous city into an even more prosperous one.

Finally, in a coda, the Court suggests that property owners should turn to the States, who may or may not choose to impose appropriate limits on economic development takings. Ante, at 19. This is an abdication of our responsibility. States play many important functions in our system of dual sovereignty, but compensating for our refusal to enforce properly the Federal Constitution (and a provision meant to curtail state action, no less) is not among them.

***

It was possible after Berman and Midkiff to imagine unconstitutional transfers from A to B. Those decisions endorsed government intervention when private property use had veered to such an extreme that the public was suffering as a consequence. Today nearly all real property is susceptible to condemnation on the Court’s theory. In the prescient words of a dissenter from the infamous decision in Poletown, “[n]ow that we have authorized local legislative bodies to decide that a different commercial or industrial use of property will produce greater public benefits than its present use, no homeowner’s, merchant’s or manufacturer’s property, however productive or valuable to its owner, is immune from condemnation for the benefit of other private interests that will put it to a ‘higher’ use.” 410 Mich., at 644–645, 304 N. W. 2d, at 464 (opinion of Fitzgerald, J.). This is why economic development takings “seriously jeopardiz[e] the security of all private property ownership.” Id., at 645, 304 N. W. 2d, at 465 (Ryan, J., dissenting).

Any property may now be taken for the benefit of another private party, but the fallout from this decision will not be random. The beneficiaries are likely to be those citizens with disproportionate influence and power in the political process, including large corporations and development firms. As for the victims, the government now has license to transfer property from those with fewer resources to those with more. The Founders cannot have intended this perverse result. “[T]hat alone is a just government,” wrote James Madison, “which impartially secures to every man, whatever is his own.” For the National Gazette, Property, (Mar. 29, 1792), reprinted in 14 Papers of James Madison 266 (R. Rutland et al. eds. 1983).

I would hold that the takings in both Parcel 3 and Parcel 4A are unconstitutional, reverse the judgment of the Supreme Court of Connecticut, and remand for further proceedings.

Van Orden v. Perry

Justice O’Connor, dissenting.
For essentially the reasons given by Justice Souter, post this page (dissenting opinion), as well as the reasons given in my concurrence in McCreary County v. American Civil Liberties Union of Ky., post, p. 881, I respectfully dissent.

McCreary County v. American Civil Liberties Union of Ky

Justice O’Connor, concurring.

I join in the Court’s opinion. The First Amendment expresses our Nation’s fundamental commitment to religious liberty by means of two provisions—one protecting the free exercise of religion, the other barring establishment of religion. They were written by the descendents of people who had come to this land precisely so that they could practice their religion freely. Together with the other First Amendment guarantees—of free speech, a free press, and the rights to assemble and petition—the Religion Clauses were designed to safeguard the freedom of conscience and belief that those immigrants had sought. They embody an idea that was once considered radical: Free people are entitled to free and diverse thoughts, which government ought neither to constrain nor to direct.

Reasonable minds can disagree about how to apply the Religion Clauses in a given case. But the goal of the Clauses is clear: to carry out the Founders’ plan of preserving religious liberty to the fullest extent possible in a pluralistic society. By enforcing the Clauses, we have kept religion a matter for the individual conscience, not for the prosecutor or bureaucrat. At a time when we see around the world the violent consequences of the assumption of religious authority by government, Americans may count themselves fortunate: Our regard for constitutional boundaries has protected us from similar travails, while allowing private religious exercise to flourish. The well-known statement that “[w]e are a religious people,” Zorach v. Clauson, 343 U. S. 306, 313 (1952), has proved true. Americans attend their places of worship more often than do citizens of other developed nations, R. Fowler, A. Hertzke, & L. Olson, Religion and Politics in America 28–29 (2d ed. 1999), and describe religion as playing an especially important role in their lives, Pew Global Attitudes Project, Among Wealthy Nations U. S. Stands Alone in its Embrace of Religion (Dec. 19, 2002). Those who would renegotiate the boundaries between church and state must therefore answer a difficult question: Why would we trade a system that has served us so well for one that has served others so poorly?

Our guiding principle has been James Madison’s—that “[t]he Religion … of every man must be left to the conviction and conscience of every man.” Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments, 2 Writings of James Madison 183, 184 (G. Hunt ed. 1901) (hereinafter Memorial). To that end, we have held that the guarantees of religious freedom protect citizens from religious incursions by the States as well as by the Federal Government. Everson v. Board of Ed. of Ewing, 330 U. S. 1, 16 (1947); Cantwell v. Connecticut, 310 U. S. 296 (1940). Government may not coerce a person into worshiping against her will, nor prohibit her from worshiping according to it. It may not prefer one religion over another or promote religion over nonbelief. Everson, supra, at 15–16. It may not entangle itself with religion. Walz v. Tax Comm’n of City of New York, 397 U. S. 664, 674 (1970). And government may not, by “endorsing religion or a religious practice,” “mak[e] adherence to religion relevant to a person’s standing in the political community.” Wallace v. Jaffree, 472 U. S. 38, 69 (1985) (O’Connor, J., concurring in judgment).

When we enforce these restrictions, we do so for the same reason that guided the Framers—respect for religion’s special role in society. Our Founders conceived of a Republic receptive to voluntary religious expression, and provided for the possibility of judicial intervention when government action threatens or impedes such expression. Voluntary religious belief and expression may be as threatened when government takes the mantle of religion upon itself as when government directly interferes with private religious practices. When the government associates one set of religious beliefs with the state and identifies nonadherents as outsiders, it encroaches upon the individual’s decision about whether and how to worship. In the marketplace of ideas, the government has vast resources and special status. Government religious expression therefore risks crowding out private observance and distorting the natural interplay between competing beliefs. Allowing government to be a potential mouthpiece for competing religious ideas risks the sort of division that might easily spill over into suppression of rival beliefs. Tying secular and religious authority together poses risks to both.

Given the history of this particular display of the Ten Commandments, the Court correctly finds an Establishment Clause violation. See ante, at 19–25. The purpose behind the counties’ display is relevant because it conveys an unmistakable message of endorsement to the reasonable observer. See Lynch v. Donnelly, 465 U. S. 668, 690 (1984) (O’Connor, J., concurring).

It is true that many Americans find the Commandments in accord with their personal beliefs. But we do not count heads before enforcing the First Amendment. See West Virginia Bd. of Ed. v. Barnette, 319 U. S. 624, 638 (1943) (“The very purpose of a Bill of Rights was to withdraw certain subjects from the vicissitudes of political controversy, to place them beyond the reach of majorities and officials and to establish them as legal principles to be applied by the courts”). Nor can we accept the theory that Americans who do not accept the Commandments’ validity are outside the First Amendment’s protections. There is no list of approved and disapproved beliefs appended to the First Amendment—and the Amendment’s broad terms (“free exercise,” “establishment,” “religion”) do not admit of such a cramped reading. It is true that the Framers lived at a time when our national religious diversity was neither as robust nor as well recognized as it is now. They may not have foreseen the variety of religions for which this Nation would eventually provide a home. They surely could not have predicted new religions, some of them born in this country. But they did know that line-drawing between religions is an enterprise that, once begun, has no logical stopping point. They worried that “the same authority which can establish Christianity, in exclusion of all other Religions, may establish with the same ease any particular sect of Christians, in exclusion of all other Sects.” Memorial 186. The Religion Clauses, as a result, protect adherents of all religions, as well as those who believe in no religion at all.

***

We owe our First Amendment to a generation with a profound commitment to religion and a profound commitment to religious liberty—visionaries who held their faith “with enough confidence to believe that what should be rendered to God does not need to be decided and collected by Caesar.” Zorach, supra, at 324–325 (Jackson, J., dissenting). In my opinion, the display at issue was an establishment of religion in violation of our Constitution. For the reasons given above, I join in the Court’s opinion.

Schaffer v. Weast

Justice O’Connor delivered the opinion of the Court.

The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA or Act), 84 Stat. 175, as amended, 20 U. S. C. A. §1400 et seq. (main ed. and Supp. 2005), is a Spending Clause statute that seeks to ensure that “all children with disabilities have available to them a free appropriate public education,” §1400(d)(1)(A). Under IDEA, school districts must create an “individualized education program” (IEP) for each disabled child. §1414(d). If parents believe their child’s IEP is inappropriate, they may request an “impartial due process hearing.” §1415(f). The Act is silent, however, as to which party bears the burden of persuasion at such a hearing. We hold that the burden lies, as it typically does, on the party seeking relief.

I
A
Congress first passed IDEA as part of the Education of the Handicapped Act in 1970, 84 Stat. 175, and amended it substantially in the Education for All Handicapped Children Act of 1975, 89 Stat. 773. At the time the majority of disabled children in America were “either totally excluded from schools or sitting idly in regular classrooms awaiting the time when they were old enough to ‘drop out,’ ” H. R. Rep. No. 94–332, p. 2 (1975). IDEA was intended to reverse this history of neglect. As of 2003, the Act governed the provision of special education services to nearly 7 million children across the country. See Dept. of Education, Office of Special Education Programs, Data Analysis System, http://www.ideadata.org/tables27th/ar_ aa9.htm (as visited Nov. 9, 2005, and available in Clerk of Court’s case file).

IDEA is “frequently described as a model of ‘cooperative federalism.’ ” Little Rock School Dist. v. Mauney, 183 F. 3d 816, 830 (CA8 1999). It “leaves to the States the primary responsibility for developing and executing educational programs for handicapped children, [but] imposes significant requirements to be followed in the discharge of that responsibility.” Board of Ed. of Hendrick Hudson Central School Dist., Westchester Cty. v. Rowley, 458 U. S. 176, 183 (1982). For example, the Act mandates cooperation and reporting between state and federal educational authorities. Participating States must certify to the Secretary of Education that they have “policies and procedures” that will effectively meet the Act’s conditions. 20 U. S. C. §1412(a). (Unless otherwise noted, all citations to the Act are to the pre-2004 version of the statute because this is the version that was in effect during the proceedings below. We note, however, that nothing in the recent 2004 amendments, 118 Stat. 2674, appears to materially affect the rule announced here.) State educational agencies, in turn, must ensure that local schools and teachers are meeting the State’s educational standards. 20 U. S. C. §§1412(a)(11), 1412(a)(15)(A). Local educational agencies (school boards or other administrative bodies) can receive IDEA funds only if they certify to a state educational agency that they are acting in accordance with the State’s policies and procedures. §1413(a)(1).

The core of the statute, however, is the cooperative process that it establishes between parents and schools. Rowley, supra, at 205–206 (“Congress placed every bit as much emphasis upon compliance with procedures giving parents and guardians a large measure of participation at every stage of the administrative process,… as it did upon the measurement of the resulting IEP against a substantive standard”). The central vehicle for this collaboration is the IEP process. State educational authorities must identify and evaluate disabled children, §§1414(a)–(c), develop an IEP for each one, §1414(d)(2), and review every IEP at least once a year, §1414(d)(4). Each IEP must include an assessment of the child’s current educational performance, must articulate measurable educational goals, and must specify the nature of the special services that the school will provide. §1414(d)(1)(A).

Parents and guardians play a significant role in the IEP process. They must be informed about and consent to evaluations of their child under the Act. §1414(c)(3). Parents are included as members of “IEP teams.” §1414(d)(1)(B). They have the right to examine any records relating to their child, and to obtain an “independent educational evaluation of the[ir] child.” §1415(b)(1). They must be given written prior notice of any changes in an IEP, §1415(b)(3), and be notified in writing of the procedural safeguards available to them under the Act, §1415(d)(1). If parents believe that an IEP is not appropriate, they may seek an administrative “impartial due process hearing.” §1415(f). School districts may also seek such hearings, as Congress clarified in the 2004 amendments. See S. Rep. No. 108–185, p. 37 (2003). They may do so, for example, if they wish to change an existing IEP but the parents do not consent, or if parents refuse to allow their child to be evaluated. As a practical matter, it appears that most hearing requests come from parents rather than schools. Brief for Petitioners 7.

Although state authorities have limited discretion to determine who conducts the hearings, §1415(f)(1)), and responsibility generally for establishing fair hearing procedures, §1415(a), Congress has chosen to legislate the central components of due process hearings. It has imposed minimal pleading standards, requiring parties to file complaints setting forth “a description of the nature of the problem,” §1415(b)(7)(B)(ii), and “a proposed resolution of the problem to the extent known and available… at the time,” §1415(b)(7)(B)(iii). At the hearing, all parties may be accompanied by counsel, and may “present evidence and confront, cross-examine, and compel the attendance of witnesses.” §§1415(h)(1)–(2). After the hearing, any aggrieved party may bring a civil action in state or federal court. §1415(i)(2). Prevailing parents may also recover attorney’s fees. §1415(i)(3)(B). Congress has never explicitly stated, however, which party should bear the burden of proof at IDEA hearings.

B
This case concerns the educational services that were due, under IDEA, to petitioner Brian Schaffer. Brian suffers from learning disabilities and speech-language impairments. From prekindergarten through seventh grade he attended a private school and struggled academically. In 1997, school officials informed Brian’s mother that he needed a school that could better accommodate his needs. Brian’s parents contacted respondent Montgomery County Public Schools System (MCPS) seeking a placement for him for the following school year.

MCPS evaluated Brian and convened an IEP team. The committee generated an initial IEP offering Brian a place in either of two MCPS middle schools. Brian’s parents were not satisfied with the arrangement, believing that Brian needed smaller classes and more intensive services. The Schaffers thus enrolled Brian in another private school, and initiated a due process hearing challenging the IEP and seeking compensation for the cost of Brian’s subsequent private education.

In Maryland, IEP hearings are conducted by administrative law judges (ALJs). See Md. Educ. Code Ann. §8–413(c) (Lexis 2004). After a 3-day hearing, the ALJ deemed the evidence close, held that the parents bore the burden of persuasion, and ruled in favor of the school district. The parents brought a civil action challenging the result. The United States District Court for the District of Maryland reversed and remanded, after concluding that the burden of persuasion is on the school district. Brian S. v. Vance, 86 F. Supp. 2d 538 (2000). Around the same time, MCPS offered Brian a placement in a high school with a special learning center. Brian’s parents accepted, and Brian was educated in that program until he graduated from high school. The suit remained alive, however, because the parents sought compensation for the private school tuition and related expenses.

Respondents appealed to the United States Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit. While the appeal was pending, the ALJ reconsidered the case, deemed the evidence truly in “equipoise,” and ruled in favor of the parents. The Fourth Circuit vacated and remanded the appeal so that it could consider the burden of proof issue along with the merits on a later appeal. The District Court reaffirmed its ruling that the school district has the burden of proof. 240 F. Supp. 2d 396 (Md. 2002). On appeal, a divided panel of the Fourth Circuit reversed. Judge Michael, writing for the majority, concluded that petitioners offered no persuasive reason to “depart from the normal rule of allocating the burden to the party seeking relief.” 377 F. 3d 449, 453 (2004). We granted certiorari, 543 U. S. 1145 (2005), to resolve the following question: At an administrative hearing assessing the appropriateness of an IEP, which party bears the burden of persuasion?

II
A
The term “burden of proof” is one of the “slipperiest member[s] of the family of legal terms.” 2 J. Strong, McCormick on Evidence §342, p. 433 (5th ed. 1999) (hereinafter McCormick). Part of the confusion surrounding the term arises from the fact that historically, the concept encompassed two distinct burdens: the “burden of persuasion,” i.e., which party loses if the evidence is closely balanced, and the “burden of production,” i.e., which party bears the obligation to come forward with the evidence at different points in the proceeding. Director, Office of Workers’ Compensation Programs v. Greenwich Collieries, 512 U. S. 267, 272 (1994). We note at the outset that this case concerns only the burden of persuasion, as the parties agree, Brief for Respondents 14; Reply Brief for Petitioners 15, and when we speak of burden of proof in this opinion, it is this to which we refer.

When we are determining the burden of proof under a statutory cause of action, the touchstone of our inquiry is, of course, the statute. The plain text of IDEA is silent on the allocation of the burden of persuasion. We therefore begin with the ordinary default rule that plaintiffs bear the risk of failing to prove their claims. McCormick §337, at 412 (“The burdens of pleading and proof with regard to most facts have and should be assigned to the plaintiff who generally seeks to change the present state of affairs and who therefore naturally should be expected to bear the risk of failure or proof or persuasion”); C. Mueller & L. Kirkpatrick, Evidence §3.1, p. 104 (3d ed. 2003) (“Perhaps the broadest and most accepted idea is that the person who seeks court action should justify the request, which means that the plaintiffs bear the burdens on the elements in their claims”).

Thus, we have usually assumed without comment that plaintiffs bear the burden of persuasion regarding the essential aspects of their claims. For example, Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, 42 U. S. C. §2000e–2 et seq., does not directly state that plaintiffs bear the “ultimate” burden of persuasion, but we have so concluded. St. Mary’s Honor Center v. Hicks, 509 U. S. 502, 511 (1993); id., at 531 (Souter, J., dissenting). In numerous other areas, we have presumed or held that the default rule applies. See, e.g., Lujan v. Defenders of Wildlife, 504 U. S. 555, 561 (1992) (standing); Cleveland v. Policy Management Systems Corp., 526 U. S. 795, 806 (1999) (Americans with Disabilities Act); Hunt v. Cromartie, 526 U. S. 541, 553 (1999) (equal protection); Wharf (Holdings) Ltd. v. United Int’l Holdings, Inc., 532 U. S. 588, 593 (2001) (securities fraud); Doran v. Salem Inn, Inc., 422 U. S. 922, 931 (1975) (preliminary injunctions); Mt. Healthy City Bd. of Ed. v. Doyle, 429 U. S. 274, 287 (1977) (First Amendment). Congress also expressed its approval of the general rule when it chose to apply it to administrative proceedings under the Administrative Procedure Act, 5 U. S. C. §556(d); see also Greenwich Collieries, supra, at 271.

The ordinary default rule, of course, admits of exceptions. See McCormick §337, at 412–415. For example, the burden of persuasion as to certain elements of a plantiff’s claim may be shifted to defendants, when such elements can fairly be characterized as affirmative defenses or exemptions. See, e.g., FTC v. Morton Salt Co., 334 U. S. 37, 44–45 (1948). Under some circumstances this Court has even placed the burden of persuasion over an entire claim on the defendant. See Alaska Dept. of Environmental Conservation v. EPA, 540 U. S. 461, 494 (2004). But while the normal default rule does not solve all cases, it certainly solves most of them. Decisions that place the entire burden of persuasion on the opposing party at the outset of a proceeding—as petitioners urge us to do here—are extremely rare. Absent some reason to believe that Congress intended otherwise, therefore, we will conclude that the burden of persuasion lies where it usually falls, upon the party seeking relief.

B
Petitioners contend first that a close reading of IDEA’s text compels a conclusion in their favor. They urge that we should interpret the statutory words “due process” in light of their constitutional meaning, and apply the balancing test established by Mathews v. Eldridge, 424 U. S. 319 (1976). Even assuming that the Act incorporates constitutional due process doctrine, Eldridge is no help to petitioners, because “[o]utside the criminal law area, where special concerns attend, the locus of the burden of persuasion is normally not an issue of federal constitutional moment.” Lavine v. Milne, 424 U. S. 577, 585 (1976).

Petitioners next contend that we should take instruction from the lower court opinions of Mills v. Board of Education, 348 F. Supp. 866 (D. C. 1972), and Pennsylvania Association for Retarded Children v. Commonwealth, 334 F. Supp. 1257 (ED Pa. 1971) (hereinafter PARC ). IDEA’s drafters were admittedly guided “to a significant extent” by these two landmark cases. Rowley, 458 U. S., at 194. As the court below noted, however, the fact that Congress “took a number of the procedural safeguards from PARC and Mills and wrote them directly into the Act” does not allow us to “conclude… that Congress intended to adopt the ideas that it failed to write into the text of the statute.” 377 F. 3d, at 455.

Petitioners also urge that putting the burden of persuasion on school districts will further IDEA’s purposes because it will help ensure that children receive a free appropriate public education. In truth, however, very few cases will be in evidentiary equipoise. Assigning the burden of persuasion to school districts might encourage schools to put more resources into preparing IEPs and presenting their evidence. But IDEA is silent about whether marginal dollars should be allocated to litigation and administrative expenditures or to educational services. Moreover, there is reason to believe that a great deal is already spent on the administration of the Act. Litigating a due process complaint is an expensive affair, costing schools approximately $8,000-to-$12,000 per hearing. See Department of Education, J. Chambers, J. Harr, & A. Dhanani, What Are We Spending on Procedural Safeguards in Special Education 1999–2000, p. 8 (May 2003) (prepared under contract by American Institute for Research, Special Education Expenditure Project). Congress has also repeatedly amended the Act in order to reduce its administrative and litigation-related costs. For example, in 1997 Congress mandated that States offer mediation for IDEA disputes. Individuals with Disabilities Education Act Amendments of 1997, Pub. L. 105–17, §615(e), 111 Stat. 90, 20 U. S. C. §1415(e). In 2004, Congress added a mandatory “resolution session” prior to any due process hearing. Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act of 2004, Pub. L. 108–446, §615(7)(f)(1)(B), 118 Stat. 2720, 20 U. S. C. A. §1415(f)(1)(B) (Supp. 2005). It also made new findings that “[p]arents and schools should be given expanded opportunities to resolve their disagreements in positive and constructive ways,” and that “[t]eachers, schools, local educational agencies, and States should be relieved of irrelevant and unnecessary paperwork burdens that do not lead to improved educational outcomes.” §§1400(c)(8)–(9).

Petitioners in effect ask this Court to assume that every IEP is invalid until the school district demonstrates that it is not. The Act does not support this conclusion. IDEA relies heavily upon the expertise of school districts to meet its goals. It also includes a so-called “stay-put” provision, which requires a child to remain in his or her “then-current educational placement” during the pendency of an IDEA hearing. §1415(j). Congress could have required that a child be given the educational placement that a parent requested during a dispute, but it did no such thing. Congress appears to have presumed instead that, if the Act’s procedural requirements are respected, parents will prevail when they have legitimate grievances. See Rowley, supra, at 206 (noting the “legislative conviction that adequate compliance with the procedures prescribed would in most cases assure much if not all of what Congress wished in the way of substantive content in an IEP”).

Petitioners’ most plausible argument is that “[t]he ordinary rule, based on considerations of fairness, does not place the burden upon a litigant of establishing facts peculiarly within the knowledge of his adversary.” United States v. New York, N. H. & H. R. Co., 355 U. S. 253, 256, n. 5 (1957); see also Concrete Pipe & Products of Cal., Inc. v. Construction Laborers Pension Trust for Southern Cal., 508 U. S. 602, 626 (1993). But this “rule is far from being universal, and has many qualifications upon its application.” Greenleaf’s Lessee v. Birth, 6 Pet. 302, 312 (1832); see also McCormick §337, at 413 (“Very often one must plead and prove matters as to which his adversary has superior access to the proof”). School districts have a “natural advantage” in information and expertise, but Congress addressed this when it obliged schools to safeguard the procedural rights of parents and to share information with them. See School Comm. of Burlington v. Department of Ed. of Mass., 471 U. S. 359, 368 (1985). As noted above, parents have the right to review all records that the school possesses in relation to their child. §1415(b)(1). They also have the right to an “independent educational evaluation of the[ir] child.” Ibid. The regulations clarify this entitlement by providing that a “parent has the right to an independent educational evaluation at public expense if the parent disagrees with an evaluation obtained by the public agency.” 34 CFR §300.502(b)(1) (2005). IDEA thus ensures parents access to an expert who can evaluate all the materials that the school must make available, and who can give an independent opinion. They are not left to challenge the government without a realistic opportunity to access the necessary evidence, or without an expert with the firepower to match the opposition.

Additionally, in 2004, Congress added provisions requiring school districts to answer the subject matter of a complaint in writing, and to provide parents with the reasoning behind the disputed action, details about the other options considered and rejected by the IEP team, and a description of all evaluations, reports, and other factors that the school used in coming to its decision. Pub. L. 108–446, §615(c)(2)(B)(i)(I), 118 Stat. 2718, 20 U. S. C. A. §1415(c)(2)(B)(i)(I) (Supp. 2005). Prior to a hearing, the parties must disclose evaluations and recommendations that they intend to rely upon. 20 U. S. C. §1415(f)(2). IDEA hearings are deliberately informal and intended to give ALJs the flexibility that they need to ensure that each side can fairly present its evidence. IDEA, in fact, requires state authorities to organize hearings in a way that guarantees parents and children the procedural protections of the Act. See §1415(a). Finally, and perhaps most importantly, parents may recover attorney’s fees if they prevail. §1415(i)(3)(B). These protections ensure that the school bears no unique informational advantage.

III
Finally, respondents and several States urge us to decide that States may, if they wish, override the default rule and put the burden always on the school district. Several States have laws or regulations purporting to do so, at least under some circumstances. See, e.g., Minn. Stat. §125A.091, subd. 16 (2004); Ala. Admin. Code Rule 290–8–9–.08(8)(c)(6) (Supp. 2004); Alaska Admin. Code tit. 4, §52.550(e)(9) (2003); Del. Code Ann., Tit. 14, §3140 (1999). Because no such law or regulation exists in Maryland, we need not decide this issue today. Justice Breyer contends that the allocation of the burden ought to be left entirely up to the States. But neither party made this argument before this Court or the courts below. We therefore decline to address it.

We hold no more than we must to resolve the case at hand: The burden of proof in an administrative hearing challenging an IEP is properly placed upon the party seeking relief. In this case, that party is Brian, as represented by his parents. But the rule applies with equal effect to school districts: If they seek to challenge an IEP, they will in turn bear the burden of persuasion before an ALJ. The judgment of the United States Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit is, therefore, affirmed.

It is so ordered.

Lockhart v. United States

Justice O’Connor delivered the opinion of the Court.

We consider whether the United States may offset Social Security benefits to collect a student loan debt that has been outstanding for over 10 years.

I
A
Petitioner James Lockhart failed to repay federally reinsured student loans that he had incurred between 1984 and 1989 under the Guaranteed Student Loan Program. These loans were eventually reassigned to the Department of Education, which certified the debt to the Department of the Treasury through the Treasury Offset Program. In 2002, the Government began withholding a portion of petitioner’s Social Security payments to offset his debt, some of which was more than 10 years delinquent.

Petitioner sued in Federal District Court, alleging that under the Debt Collection Act’s 10-year statute of limitations, the offset was time barred. The District Court dismissed the complaint, and the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit affirmed. 376 F. 3d 1027 (2004). We granted certiorari, 544 U. S. ___ (2005), to resolve the conflict between the Ninth Circuit and the Eighth Circuit, see Lee v. Paige, 376 F. 3d 1179 (CA8 2004), and now affirm.

B
The Debt Collection Act of 1982, as amended, provides that, after pursuing the debt collection channels set out in 31 U. S. C. §3711(a), an agency head can collect an outstanding debt “by administrative offset.” §3716(a). The availability of offsets against Social Security benefits is limited, as the Social Security Act, 49 Stat. 620, as amended, makes Social Security benefits, in general, not “subject to execution, levy, attachment, garnishment, or other legal process.” 42 U. S. C. §407(a). The Social Security Act purports to protect this anti-attachment rule with an express-reference provision: “No other provision of law, enacted before, on, or after April 20, 1983, may be construed to limit, supersede, or otherwise modify the provisions of this section except to the extent that it does so by express reference to this section.” §407(b).

Moreover, the Debt Collection Act’s offset provisions generally do not authorize the collection of claims which, like petitioner’s debts at issue here, are over 10 years old. 31 U. S. C. §3716(e)(1). In 1991, however, the Higher Education Technical Amendments, 105 Stat. 123, sweepingly eliminated time limitations as to certain loans: “Notwithstanding any other provision of statute… no limitation shall terminate the period within which suit may be filed, a judgment may be enforced, or an offset, garnishment, or other action initiated or taken,” 20 U. S. C. §1091a(a)(2), for the repayment of various student loans, including the loans at issue here, §1091a(a)(2)(D).

The Higher Education Technical Amendments, by their terms, did not make Social Security benefits subject to offset; these were still protected by the Social Security Act’s anti-attachment rule. Only in 1996 did the Debt Collection Improvement Act—in amending and recodifying the Debt Collection Act—provide that, “[n]otwithstanding any other provision of law (including [§407] … ),” with a limited exception not relevant here, “all payment due an individual under … the Social Security Act … shall be subject to offset under this section.” 31 U. S. C. §3716(c)(3)(A)(i).

II
The Government does not contend that the “notwithstanding” clauses in both the Higher Education Technical Amendments and the Debt Collection Improvement Act trump the Social Security Act’s express-reference provision. Cf. Marcello v. Bonds, 349 U. S. 302, 310 (1955) (“Exemptions from the terms of the … Act are not lightly to be presumed in view of the statement … that modifications must be express[.] But … [u]nless we are to require the Congress to employ magical passwords in order to effectuate an exemption from the … Act, we must hold that the present statute expressly supersedes the … provisions of that Act” (citation omitted)); Great Northern R. Co. v. United States, 208 U. S. 452, 465 (1908).

We need not decide the effect of express-reference provisions such as §407(b) to resolve this case. Because the Debt Collection Improvement Act clearly makes Social Security benefits subject to offset, it provides exactly the sort of express reference that the Social Security Act says is necessary to supersede the anti-attachment provision.

It is clear that the Higher Education Technical Amendments remove the 10-year limit that would otherwise bar offsetting petitioner’s Social Security benefits to pay off his student loan debt. Petitioner argues that Congress could not have intended in 1991 to repeal the Debt Collection Act’s statute of limitations as to offsets against Social Security benefits—since debt collection by Social Security offset was not authorized until five years later. Therefore, petitioner continues, the Higher Education Technical Amendments’ abrogation of time limits in 1991 only applies to then-valid means of debt collection. We disagree. “The fact that Congress may not have foreseen all of the consequences of a statutory enactment is not a sufficient reason for refusing to give effect to its plain meaning.” Union Bank v. Wolas, 502 U. S. 151, 158 (1991).

Petitioner points out that the Higher Education Technical Amendments, unlike the Debt Collection Improvement Act, do not explicitly mention §407. But §407(b) only requires an express reference to authorize attachment in the first place—which the Debt Collection Improvement Act has already provided.

III
Nor does the Debt Collection Improvement Act’s 1996 recodification of the Debt Collection Act help petitioner. The Debt Collection Improvement Act, in addition to adding offset authority against Social Security benefits, retained the Debt Collection Act’s general 10-year bar on offset authority. But the mere retention of this previously enacted time bar does not make the time bar apply in all contexts—a result that would extend far beyond Social Security benefits, since it would imply that the Higher Education Technical Amendments’ abrogation of time limits was now a dead letter as to any kind of administrative offset. Rather, the Higher Education Technical Amendments retain their effect as a limited exception to the Debt Collection Act time bar in the student loan context.

Finally, we decline to read any meaning into the failed 2004 effort to amend the Debt Collection Act to explicitly authorize offset of debts over 10 years old. See H. R. 5025, 108th Cong., 2d Sess., §642 (Sept. 8, 2004); S. 2806, 108th Cong., 2d Sess., §642 (Sept. 15, 2004). “[F]ailed legislative proposals are ‘a particularly dangerous ground on which to rest an interpretation of a prior statute.’ ” United States v. Craft, 535 U. S. 274, 287 (2002) (quoting Pension Benefit Guaranty Corporation v. LTV Corp., 496 U. S. 633, 650 (1990)). In any event, it is unclear what meaning we could read into this effort even if we were inclined to do so, as the failed amendment—which was not limited to offsets against Social Security benefits—would have had a different effect than the interpretation we advance today.

Therefore, we affirm the judgment of the Ninth Circuit.

It is so ordered.

Ayotte v. Planned Parenthood of Northern New Eng

We do not revisit our abortion precedents today, but rather address a question of remedy: If enforcing a statute that regulates access to abortion would be unconstitutional in medical emergencies, what is the appropriate judicial response? We hold that invalidating the statute entirely is not always necessary or justified, for lower courts may be able to render narrower declaratory and injunctive relief.