author: Chief Justice Rehnquist Justice Brennan, Justice Blackmun,

text:
    DeSHANEY, a minor, by his guardian ad litem, et al. v. WINNEBAGO COUNTY DEPARTMENT OF SOCIAL SERVICES et al.
    No. 87-154.
    Argued November 2, 1988
    Decided February 22, 1989

      Rehnquist, C. J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which White, Stevens, O’Connor, Scalia, and Kennedy, JJ., joined. Brennan, J., filed a dissenting opinion, in which Marshall and Blackmun, JJ., joined, post, p. 203. Blackmun, J., filed a dissenting opinion, post, p. 212.

      Donald J. Sullivan argued the cause for petitioners. With him on the briefs was Curry First.

      Mark J. Mingo argued the cause for respondents. With him on the brief were Wayne M. Yankala and Joel I. Klein.

      Deputy Solicitor General Ayer argued the cause for the United States as amicus curiae urging affirmance. With him on the brief were Solicitor General Fried, Assistant Attorney General Bolton, Roy T. Englert, Jr., Barbara L. Herwig, and John S. Koppel.

      Briefs of amici curiae urging reversal were filed for the American Civil Liberties Union Children’s Rights Project et al. by Christopher A. Hansen, Marcia Robinson Lowry, John A. Powell, Steven R. Shapiro, and
        Helen Hershkoff; and for the Massachusetts Committee for Children and Youth by Laura L. Carroll.

      Briefs urging affirmance were filed for the State of New York et al. by Robert Abrams, Attorney General of New York, 0. Peter Shenvood, Solicitor General, Peter H. Schiff, Deputy Solicitor General, and Michael S. Buskus, Assistant Attorney General, Joseph I. Lieberman, Attorney General of Connecticut, J. Joseph Curran, Jr., Attorney General of Maryland, Dave Frohnmayer, Attorney General of Oregon, LeRoy S. Zimmerman, Attorney General of Pennsylvania, Donald J. Hanaivay, Attorney General of Wisconsin, and Charles Hoornstra, Assistant Attorney General; and for the National Association of Counties et al. by Bernia Ruth Solomon and Douglas A. Poe.

        Givendolyn H. Gregory, August W. Steinhilber, and Thomas A. Shannon filed a brief for the National School Boards Association as amicus curiae.

   Chief Justice Rehnquist

delivered the opinion of the Court.

Petitioner is a boy who was beaten and permanently injured by his father, with whom he lived. Respondents are social workers and other local officials who received complaints that petitioner was being abused by his father and had reason to believe that this was the case, but nonetheless did not act to remove petitioner from his father’s custody. Petitioner sued respondents claiming that their failure to act deprived him of his liberty in violation of the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution. We hold that it did not.

I — I

The facts of this case are undeniably tragic. Petitioner Joshua DeShaney was born in 1979. In 1980, a Wyoming court granted his parents a divorce and awarded custody of Joshua to his father, Randy DeShaney. The father shortly thereafter moved to Neenah, a city located in Winnebago County, Wisconsin, taking, the infant Joshua with him. There he entered into a second marriage, which also ended in divorce.

The Winnebago County authorities first learned that Joshua DeShaney might be a victim of child abuse in January 1982, when his father’s second wife complained to the police, at the time of their divorce, that he had previously “hit the boy causing marks and [was] a prime case for child abuse.” App. 152-153. The Winnebago County Department of Social Services (DSS) interviewed the father, but he denied the accusations, and DSS did not pursue them further. In January 1983, Joshua was admitted to a local hospital with multiple bruises and abrasions. The examining physician suspected child abuse and notified DSS, which immediately obtained an order from a Wisconsin juvenile court placing Joshua in the temporary custody of the hospital. Three days later, the county convened an ad hoc “Child Protection Team” — consisting of a pediatrician, a psychologist, a police detective, the county’s lawyer, several DSS caseworkers, and various hospital personnel — to consider Joshua’s situation. At this meeting, the Team decided that there was insufficient evidence of child abuse to retain Joshua in the custody of the court. The Team did, however, decide to recommend several measures to protect Joshua, including enrolling him in a preschool program, providing his father with certain counselling services, and encouraging his father’s girlfriend to move out of the home. Randy DeShaney entered into a voluntary agreement with DSS in which he promised to cooperate with them in accomplishing these goals.

Based on the recommendation of the Child Protection Team, the juvenile court dismissed the child protection case and returned Joshua to the custody of his father. A month later, emergency room personnel called the DSS caseworker handling Joshua’s case to report that he had once again been treated for suspicious injuries. The caseworker concluded that there was no basis for action. For the next six months, the caseworker made monthly visits to the DeShaney home, during which she observed a number of suspicious injuries on Joshua’s head; she also noticed that he had not been enrolled in school, and that the girlfriend had not moved out. The caseworker dutifully recorded these incidents in her files, along with her continuing suspicions that someone in the DeShaney household was physically abusing Joshua, but she did nothing more. In November 1983, the emergency room notified DSS that Joshua had been treated once again for injuries that they believed to be caused by child abuse. On the caseworker’s next two visits to the DeShaney home, she was told that Joshua was too ill to see her. Still DSS took no action.

In March 1984, Randy DeShaney beat 4-year-old Joshua so severely that he fell into a life-threatening coma. Emergency brain surgery revealed a series of hemorrhages caused by traumatic injuries to the head inflicted over a long pe-, riod of time. Joshua did not die, but he suffered brain damage so severe that he is expected to spend the rest of his life confined to an institution for the profoundly retarded. Randy DeShaney was subsequently tried and convicted of child abuse.

Joshua and his mother brought this action under 42 U. S. C. § 1983 in the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Wisconsin against respondents Winnebago County, DSS, and various individual employees of DSS. The complaint alleged that respondents had deprived Joshua of his liberty without due process of law, in violation of his rights under the Fourteenth Amendment, by failing to intervene to protect him against a risk of violence at his father’s hands of which they knew or should have known. The District Court granted summary judgment for respondents.

The Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit affirmed, 812 F. 2d 298 (1987), holding that petitioners had not made out an actionable § 1983 claim for two alternative reasons. First, the court held that the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment does not require a state or local governmental entity to protect its citizens from “private violence, or other mishaps not attributable to the conduct of its employees.” Id., at 301. In so holding, the court specifically rejected the position endorsed by a divided panel of the Third Circuit in Estate of Bailey by Oare v. County of York, 768 F. 2d 503, 510-511 (1985), and by dicta in Jensen v. Conrad, 747 F. 2d 185, 190-194 (CA4 1984), cert. denied, 470 U. S. 1052 (1985), that once the State learns that a particular child is in danger of abuse from third parties and actually undertakes to protect him from that danger, a “special relationship” arises between it and the child which imposes an affirmative constitutional duty to provide adequate protection. 812 F. 2d, at 303-304. Second, the court held, in reliance on our decision in Martinez v. California, 444 U. S. 277, 285 (1980), that the causal connection between respondents’ conduct and Joshua’s injuries was too attenuated to establish a deprivation of constitutional rights actionable under § 1983. 812 F. 2d, at 301-303. The court therefore found it unnecessary to reach the question whether respondents’ conduct evinced the “state of mind” necessary to make out a due process claim after Daniels v. Williams, 474 U. S. 327 (1986), and Davidson v. Cannon, 474 U. S. 344 (1986). 812 F. 2d, at 302.

Because of the inconsistent approaches taken by the lower courts in determining when, if ever, the failure of a state or local governmental entity or its agents to provide an individual with adequate protective services constitutes a violation of the individual’s due process rights, see Archie v. Racine, 847 F. 2d 1211, 1220-1223, and n. 10 (CA7 1988) (en banc) (collecting cases), cert, pending, No. 88-576, and the importance of the issue to the administration of state and local governments, we granted certiorari. 485 U. S. 958 (1988). We now affirm.

II

The Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment provides that “[n]o State shall. . . deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.” Petitioners contend that the State deprived Joshua of his liberty interest in “free[dom] from . . . unjustified intrusions on personal security,” see Ingraham v. Wright, 430 U. S. 651, 673 (1977), by failing to provide him with adequate protection against his father’s violence. The claim is one invoking the substantive rather than the procedural component of the Due Process Clause; petitioners do not claim that the State denied Joshua protection without according him appropriate procedural safeguards, see Morrissey v. Brewer, 408 U. S. 471, 481 (1972), but that it was categorically obligated to protect him in these circumstances, see Youngberg v. Romeo, 457 U. S. 307, 309 (1982).

But nothing in the language of the Due Process Clause itself requires the State to protect the life, liberty, and property of its citizens against invasion by private actors. The Clause is phrased as a limitation on the State’s power to act, • not as a guarantee of certain minimal levels of safety and security. It forbids the State itself to deprive individuals of life, liberty, or property without “due process of law,” but its language cannot fairly be extended to impose an affirmative obligation on the State to ensure that those interests do not come to harm through other means. Nor does history support such an expansive reading of the constitutional text. Like its counterpart in the Fifth Amendment, the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment was intended to prevent government “from abusing [its] power, or employing it as an instrument of oppression,” Davidson v. Cannon, supra, at 348; see also Daniels v. Williams, supra, at 331 (“ ‘ “to secure the individual from the arbitrary exercise of the powers of government,’”” and “to prevent governmental power from being ‘used for purposes of oppression’ ”) (internal citations omitted); Parratt v. Taylor, 451 U. S. 527, 549 (1981) (Powell, J., concurring in result) (to prevent the “affirmative abuse of power”). Its purpose was to protect the people from the State, not to ensure that the State protected them from each other. The Framers were content to leave the extent of governmental obligation in the latter area to the democratic political processes.

Consistent with these principles, our cases have recognized that the Due Process Clauses generally confer no affirmative right to governmental aid, even where such aid may be necessary to secure life, liberty, or property interests of which the government itself may not deprive the individual. See, e. g., Harris v. McRae, 448 U. S. 297, 317-318 (1980) (no obligation to fund abortions or other medical services) (discussing Due Process Clause of Fifth Amendment); Lindsey v. Normet, 405 U. S. 56, 74 (1972) (no obligation to provide adequate housing) (discussing Due Process Clause of Fourteenth Amendment); see also Youngberg v. Romeo, supra, at 317 (“As a general matter, a State is under no constitutional duty to provide substantive services for those within its border”). As we said in Harris v. McRae: “Although the liberty protected by the Due Process Clause affords protection against unwarranted government interference ... , it does not confer an entitlement to such [governmental aid] as may be necessary to realize all the advantages of that freedom.” 448 U. S., at 317-318 (emphasis added). If the Due Process Clause does not require the State to provide its citizens with particular protective services, it follows that the State cannot be held liable under the Clause for injuries that could have been averted had it chosen to provide them. As a general matter, then, we conclude that a State’s failure to protect an individual against private violence simply does not constitute a violation of the Due Process Clause.

Petitioners contend, however, that even if the Due Process Clause imposes no affirmative obligation on the State to provide the general public with adequate protective services, such a duty may arise out of certain “special relationships” created or assumed by the State with respect to particular individuals. Brief for Petitioners 13-18. Petitioners argue that such a “special relationship” existed here because the State knew that Joshua faced a special danger of abuse at his father’s hands, and specifically proclaimed, by word and by deed, its intention to protect him against that danger. Id., at 18-20. Having actually undertakén to protect Joshua from this danger — which petitioners concede the State played no part in creating — the State acquired an affirmative “duty,” enforceable through the Due Process Clause, to do so in a reasonably competent fashion. Its failure to discharge that duty, so the argument goes, was an abuse of governmental power that so “shocks the conscience,” Rochin v. California, 342 U. S. 165, 172 (1952), as to constitute a substantive due process violation. Brief for Petitioners 20.

We reject this argument. It is true that in certain limited circumstances the Constitution imposes upon the State affirmative duties of care and protection with respect to particular individuals. In Estelle v. Gamble, 429 U. S. 97 (1976), we recognized that the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment, made applicable to the States through the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause, Robinson v. California, 370 U. S. 660 (1962), requires the State to provide adequate medical care to incarcerated prisoners. 429 U. S., at 103-104. We reasoned that because the prisoner is unable “ ‘by reason of the deprivation of his liberty [to] care for himself,’” it is only “‘just’” that the State be required to care for him. Ibid., quoting Spicer v. Williamson, 191 N. C. 487, 490, 132 S. E. 291, 293 (1926).

In Youngberg v. Romeo, 457 U. S. 307 (1982), we extended this analysis beyond the Eighth Amendment setting, holding that the substantive component of the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause requires the State to provide involuntarily committed mental patients with such services as are necessary to ensure their “reasonable safety” from themselves and others. Id., at 314-325; see id., at 315, 324 (dicta indicating that the State is also obligated to provide such individuals with “adequate food, shelter, clothing, and medical care”). As we explained: “If it is cruel and unusual punishment to hold convicted criminals in unsafe conditions, it must be unconstitutional [under the Due Process Clause] to confine the involuntarily committed — who may not be punished at all — in unsafe conditions.” Id., at 315-316; see also Revere v. Massachusetts General Hospital, 463 U. S. 239, 244 (1983) (holding that the Due Process Clause requires the responsible government or governmental agency to provide medical care to suspects in police custody who have been injured while being apprehended by the police).

But these cases afford petitioners no help. Taken together, they stand only for the proposition that when the State takes a person into its custody and holds him there against his will, the Constitution imposes upon it a corresponding duty to assume some responsibility for his safety and general well-being. See Youngberg v. Romeo, supra, at 317 (“When a person is institutionalized — and wholly dependent on the State[,]... a duty to provide certain services and care does exist”). The rationale for this principle is simple enough: when the State by the affirmative exercise of its power so restrains an individual’s liberty that it renders him unable to care for himself, and at the same time fails to provide for his basic human needs — e. g., food, clothing, shelter, medical care, and reasonable safety — it transgresses the substantive limits on state action set by the Eighth Amendment and the Due Process Clause. See Estelle v. Gamble, supra, at 103-104; Youngberg v. Romeo, supra, at 315-316. The affirmative duty to protect arises not from the State’s knowledge of the individual’s predicament or from its expressions of intent to help him, but from the limitation which it has imposed on his freedom to act on his own behalf. See Estelle v. Gamble, supra, at 103 (“An inmate must rely on prison authorities to treat his medical needs; if the authorities fail to do so, those needs will not be met”). In the substantive due process analysis, it is the State’s, affirmative act of restraining the individual’s freedom to act on his own behalf— through incarceration, institutionalization, or other similar restraint of personal liberty — which is the “deprivation of liberty” triggering the protections of the Due Process Clause, not its failure to act to protect his liberty interests against harms inflicted by other means.

The Estelle-Youngberg analysis simply has no applicability in the present case. Petitioners concede that the harms Joshua suffered occurred not while he was in the State’s custody, but while he was in the custody of his natural father, who was in no sense a state actor. While the State may have been aware of the dangers that Joshua faced in the free world, it played no part in their creation, nor did it do anything to render him any more vulnerable to them. That the State once took temporary custody of Joshua does not alter the analysis, for when it returned him to his father’s custody, it placed him in no worse position than that in which he would have been had it not acted at all; the State does not become the permanent guarantor of an individual’s safety by having once offered him shelter. Under these circumstances, the State had no constitutional duty to protect Joshua.

It may well be that, by voluntarily undertaking to protect Joshua against a danger it concededly played no part in creating, the State acquired a duty under state tort law to provide him with adequate protection against that danger. See Restatement (Second) of Torts § 323 (1965) (one who undertakes to render services to another may in some circumstances be held liable for doing so in a negligent fashion); see generally W. Keeton, D. Dobbs, R. Keeton, & D. Owen, Prosser and Keeton on the Law of Torts § 56 (5th ed. 1984) (discussing “special relationships” which may give rise to affirmative duties to act under the common law of tort). But the claim here is based on the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, which, as we have said many times, does not transform every tort committed by a state actor into a constitutional violation. See Daniels v. Williams, 474 U. S., at 335-336; Parratt v. Taylor, 451 U. S., at 544; Martinez v. California, 444 U. S. 277, 285 (1980); Baker v. McCollan, 443 U. S. 137, 146 (1979); Paul v. Davis, 424 U. S. 693, 701 (1976). A State may, through its courts and legislatures, impose such affirmative duties of care and protection upon its agents as it wishes. But not “all common-law duties owed by government actors were . . . constitutionalized by the Fourteenth Amendment.” Daniels v. Williams, supra, at 335. Because, as explained above, the State had no constitutional duty to protect Joshua against his father’s violence, its failure to do so — though calamitous in hindsight — simply does not constitute a violation of the Due Process Clause.

Judges and lawyers, like other humans, are moved by natural sympathy in a case like this to find a way for Joshua and his mother to receive adequate compensation for the grievous harm inflicted upon them. But before yielding to that impulse, it is well to remember once again that the harm was inflicted not by the State of Wisconsin, but by Joshua’s father. The most that can be said of the state functionaries in this case is that they stood by and did nothing when suspicious circumstances dictated a more active role for them. In defense of them it must also be said that had they moved too soon to take custody of the son away from the father, they would likely have been met with charges of improperly intruding into the parent-child relationship, charges based on the same Due Process Clause that forms the basis for the present charge of failure to provide adequate protection.

The people of Wisconsin may well prefer a system of liability which would place upon the State and its officials the responsibility for failure to act in situations such as the present one. They may create such a system, if they do not' have it already, by changing the tort law of the State in accordance with the regular lawmaking process. But they should not have it thrust upon them by this Court’s expansion of the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.

Affirmed.

Justice Brennan,

with whom Justice Marshall and Justice Blackmun join, dissenting.

“The most that can be said of the state functionaries in this case,” the Court today concludes, “is that they stood by and did nothing when suspicious circumstances dictated a more active role for them.” Ante this page. Because I believe that this description of respondents’ conduct tells only part of the story and that, accordingly, the Constitution itself “dictated a more active role” for respondents in the circumstances presented here, I cannot agree that respondents had no constitutional duty to help Joshua DeShaney.

It may well be, as the Court decides, ante, at 194-197, that the Due Process Clause as construed by our prior cases creates no general right to basic governmental services. That, however, is not the question presented here; indeed, that question was not raised in the complaint, urged on appeal, presented in the petition for certiorari, or addressed in the briefs on the merits. No one, in short, has asked the Court to proclaim that, as a general matter, the Constitution safeguards positive as well as negative liberties.

This is more than a quibble over dicta; it is a point about perspective, having substantive ramifications. In a constitutional setting that distinguishes sharply between action and inaction, one’s characterization of the misconduct alleged under § 1983 may effectively decide the case. Thus, by leading off with a discussion (and rejection) of the idea that the Constitution imposes on the States an affirmative duty to take basic care of their citizens, the Court foreshadows — perhaps even preordains — its conclusion that no duty existed even on the specific facts before us. This initial discussion establishes the baseline from which the Court assesses the DeShaneys’ claim that, when a State has — “by word and by deed,” ante, at 197 — announced an intention to protect a certain class of citizens and has before it facts that would trigger that protection under the applicable state law, the Constitution imposes upon the State an affirmative duty of protection.

The Court’s baseline is the absence of positive rights in the Constitution and a concomitant suspicion of any claim that seems to depend on such rights. From this perspective, the DeShaneys’ claim is first and foremost about inaction (the failure, here, of respondents to take steps to protect Joshua), and only tangentially about action (the establishment of a state program specifically designed to help children like Joshua). And from this perspective, holding these Wisconsin officials liable — where the only difference between this case and one involving a general claim to protective services is Wisconsin’s establishment and operation of a program to protect children — would seem to punish an effort that we should seek to promote.

I would begin from the opposite direction. I would focus first on the action that Wisconsin has taken with respect to Joshua and children like him, rather than on the actions that the State failed to take. Such a method is not new to this Court. Both Estelle v. Gamble, 429 U. S. 97 (1976), and Youngberg v. Romeo, 457 U. S. 307 (1982), began by emphasizing that the States had confined J. W. Gamble to prison and Nicholas Romeo to a psychiatric hospital. This initial action rendered these people helpless to help themselves or to seek help from persons unconnected to the government. See Estelle, supra, at 104 (“[I]t is but just that the public be required to care for the prisoner, who cannot by reason of the deprivation of his liberty, care for himself”); Youngberg, supra, at 317 (“When a person is institutionalized — and wholly dependent on the State — it is conceded by petitioners that a duty to provide certain services and care does exist”). Cases from the lower courts also recognize that a State’s actions can be decisive in assessing the constitutional significance of subsequent inaction. For these purposes, moreover, actual physical restraint is not the only state action that has been considered relevant. See, e. g., White v. Rochford, 592 F. 2d 381 (CA7 1979) (police officers violated due process when, after arresting the guardian of three young children, they abandoned the children on a busy stretch of highway at night).

Because of the Court’s initial fixation on the general principle that the Constitution does not establish positive rights, it is unable to appreciate our recognition in Estelle and Youngberg that this principle does not hold true in all circumstances. Thus, in the Court’s view, Youngberg can be explained (and dismissed) in the following way: “In the substantive due process analysis, it is the State’s affirmative act of restraining the individual’s freedom to act on his own behalf — through incarceration, institutionalization, or other similar restraint of personal liberty — which is the ‘deprivation of liberty’ triggering the protections of the Due Process Clause, not its failure to act to protect his liberty interests against harms inflicted by other means.” Ante, at 200. This restatement of Youngberg’s holding should come as a surprise when one recalls our explicit observation in that case that Romeo did not challenge his commitment to the hospital, but instead “argue[d] that he ha[d] a constitutionally protected liberty interest in safety, freedom of movement, and training within the institution; and that petitioners infringed these rights by failing to provide constitutionally required conditions of confinement.” 457 U. S., at 315 (emphasis added). I do not mean to suggest that “the State’s affirmative act of restraining the individual’s freedom to act on his own behalf,” ante, at 200, was irrelevant in Youngberg; rather, I emphasize that this conduct would have led to no injury, and consequently no cause of action under § 1983, unless the State then had failed to take steps to protect Romeo from himself and from others. In addition, the Court’s exclusive attention to state-imposed restraints of “the individual’s freedom to act on his own behalf,” ante, at 200, suggests that it was the State that rendered Romeo unable to care for himself, whereas in fact — with an I. Q. of between 8 and 10, and the mental capacity of an 18-month-old child, 457 U. S., at 309 — he had been quite incapable of taking care of himself long before the State stepped into his life. Thus, the fact of hospitalization was critical in Youngberg not because it rendered Romeo helpless to help himself, but because it separated him from other sources of aid that, we held, the State was obligated to replace. Unlike the Court, therefore, I am unable to see in Youngberg a neat and decisive divide between action and inaction.

Moreover, to the Court, the only fact that seems to count as an “affirmative act of restraining the individual’s freedom to act on his own behalf” is direct physical control. Ante, at 200 (listing only “incarceration, institutionalization, [and] other similar restraint of personal liberty” in describing relevant “affirmative acts”). I would not, however, give Young- berg and Estelle such a stingy scope. I would recognize, as the Court apparently cannot, that “the State’s knowledge of [an] individual’s predicament [and] its expressions of intent to help him” can amount to a “limitation ... on his freedom to act on his own behalf” or to obtain help from others. Ante, at 200. Thus, I would read Youngberg and Estelle to stand for the much more generous proposition that, if a State cuts off private sources of aid and then refuses aid itself, it cannot wash its hands of the harm that results from its inaction.

Youngberg and Estelle are not alone in sounding this theme. In striking down a filing fee as applied to divorce cases brought by indigents, see Boddie v. Connecticut, 401 U. S. 371 (1971), and in deciding that a local government could not entirely foreclose the opportunity to speak in a public forum, see, e. g., Schneider v. State, 308 U. S. 147 (1939); Hague v. Committee for Industrial Organization, 307 U. S. 496 (1939); United States v. Grace, 461 U. S. 171 (1983), we have acknowledged that a State’s actions — such as the monopolization of a particular path of relief — may impose upon the State certain positive duties. Similarly, Shelley v. Kraemer, 334 U. S. 1 (1948), and Burton v. Wilmington Parking Authority, 365 U. S. 715 (1961), suggest that a State may be found complicit in an injury even if it did not create the situation that caused the harm.

Arising as they do from constitutional contexts different from the one involved here, cases like Boddie and Burton are instructive rather than decisive in the case before us. But they set a tone equally well established in precedent as, and contradictory to, the one the Court sets by situating the DeShaneys’ complaint within the class of cases epitomized by the Court’s decision in Harris v. McRae, 448 U. S. 297 (1980). The cases that I have cited tell us that Goldberg v. Kelly, 397 U. S. 254 (1970) (recognizing entitlement to welfare under state law), can stand side by side with Dandridge v. Williams, 397 U. S. 471, 484 (1970) (implicitly rejecting idea that welfare is a fundamental right), and that Goss v. Lopez, 419 U. S. 565, 573 (1975) (entitlement to public education under state law), is perfectly consistent with San Antonio Independent School Dist. v. Rodriguez, 411 U. S. 1, 29-39 (1973) (no fundamental right to education). To put the point more directly, these cases signal that a State’s prior actions may be decisive in analyzing the constitutional significance of its inaction. I thus would locate the DeShaneys’ claims within the framework of cases like Youngberg and Estelle, and more generally, Boddie and Schneider, by considering the actions that Wisconsin took with respect to Joshua.

Wisconsin has established a child-welfare system specifically designed to help children like Joshua. Wisconsin law places upon the local departments of social services such as respondent (DSS or Department) a duty to investigate reported instances of child abuse. See Wis. Stat. §48.981(3) (1987-1988). While other governmental bodies and private persons are largely responsible for the reporting of possible cases of child abuse, see §48.981(2), Wisconsin law channels all such reports to the local departments of social services for evaluation and, if necessary, further action. §48.981(3). Even when it is the sheriff’s office or police department that receives a report of suspected child abuse, that report is referred to local social services departments for action, see §48.981(3)(a); the only exception to this occurs when the reporter fears for the child’s immediate safety. § 48.981(3)(b). In this way, Wisconsin law invites — indeed, directs — citizens and other governmental entities to depend on local departments of social services such as respondent to protect children from abuse.

The specific facts before us bear out this view of Wisconsin’s system of protecting children. Each time someone voiced a suspicion that Joshua was being abused, that information was relayed to the Department for investigation and possible action. When Randy DeShaney’s second wife told the police that he had “‘hit the boy causing marks and [was] a prime case for child abuse,’” the police referred her complaint to DSS. Ante, at 192. When, on three separate occasions, emergency room personnel noticed suspicious injuries on Joshua’s body, they went to DSS with this information. Ante, at 192-193. When neighbors informed the police that they had seen or heard Joshua’s father or his father’s lover beating or otherwise abusing Joshua, the police brought these reports to the attention of DSS. App. 144-145. And when respondent Kemmeter, through these reports and through her own observations in the course of nearly 20 visits to the DeShaney home, id., at 104, compiled growing evidence that Joshua was being abused, that information stayed within the Department — chronicled by the social worker in detail that seems almost eerie in light of her failure to act upon it. (As to the extent of the social worker’s involvement in, and knowledge of, Joshua’s predicament, her reaction to the news of Joshua’s last and most devastating injuries is illuminating: “ ‘I just knew the phone would ring some day and Joshua would be dead.’” 812 F. 2d 298, 300 (CA7 1987).)

Even more telling than these examples is the Department’s control over the decision whether to take steps to protect a particular child from suspected abuse. While many different people contributed information and advice to this decision, it was up to the people at DSS to make the ultimate decision (subject to the approval of the local government’s corporation counsel) whether to disturb the family’s current arrangements. App. 41, 58. When Joshua first appeared at a local hospital with injuries signaling physical abuse, for example, it was DSS that made the decision to take him into temporary custody for the purpose of studying his situation — and it was DSS, acting in conjunction with the corporation counsel, that returned him to his father. Ante, at 192. Unfortunately for Joshua DeShaney, the buck effectively stopped with the Department.

In these circumstances, a private citizen, or even a person working in a government agency other than DSS, would doubtless feel that her job was done as soon as she had reported her suspicions of child abuse to DSS. Through its child-welfare program, in other words, the State of Wisconsin has relieved ordinary citizens and governmental bodies other than the Department of any sense of obligation to do anything more than report their suspicions of child abuse to DSS. If DSS ignores or dismisses these suspicions, no one will step in to fill the gap. Wisconsin’s child-protection program thus effectively confined Joshua DeShaney within the walls of Randy DeShaney’s violent home until such time as DSS took action to remove him. Conceivably, then, children like Joshua are made worse off by the existence of this program when the persons and entities charged with carrying it out fail to do their jobs.

It simply belies reality, therefore, to contend that the State “stood by and did nothing” with respect to Joshua. Ante, at 203. Through its child-protection program, the State actively intervened in Joshua’s life and, by virtue of this intervention, acquired ever more certain knowledge that Joshua was in grave danger. These circumstances, in my view, plant this case solidly within the tradition of cases like Youngberg and Estelle.

It will be meager comfort to Joshua and his mother to know that, if the State had “selectively den[ied] its protective services” to them because they were “disfavored minorities,” ante, at 197, n. 3, their § 1983 suit might have stood on sturdier ground. Because of the posture of this case, we do not know why respondents did not take steps to protect Joshua; the Court, however, tells us that their reason is irrelevant so long as their inaction was not the product of invidious discrimination. Presumably, then, if respondents decided not to help Joshua because his name began with a “J,” or because he was born in the spring, or because they did not care enough about him even to formulate an intent to discriminate against him based on an arbitrary reason, respondents would not be liable to the DeShaneys because they were not the ones who dealt the blows that destroyed Joshua’s life.

I do not suggest that such irrationality was at work in this case; I emphasize only that we do not know whether or not it was. I would allow Joshua and his mother the opportunity to show that respondents’ failure to help him arose, not out of the sound exercise of professional judgment that we recoge nized in Youngberg as sufficient to preclude liability, see 457 U. S., at 322-323, but from the kind of arbitrariness that we have in the past condemned. See, e. g., Daniels v. Williams, 474 U. S. 327, 331 (1986) (purpose of Due Process Clause was “to secure the individual from the arbitrary exercise of the powers of government” (citations omitted)); West Coast Hotel Co. v. Parrish, 300 U. S. 379, 399 (1937) (to sustain state action, the Court need only decide that it is not “arbitrary or capricious”); Euclid v. Ambler Realty Co., 272 U. S. 365, 389 (1926) (state action invalid where it “passes the bounds of reason and assumes the character of a merely arbitrary fiat,” quoting Purity Extract & Tonic Co. v. Lynch, 226 U. S. 192, 204 (1912)).

Youngberg’s deference to a decisionmaker’s professional judgment ensures that once a caseworker has decided, on the basis of her professional training and experience, that one course of protection is preferable for a given child, or even that no special protection is required, she will not be found liable for the harm that follows. (In this way, Youngberg’s vision of substantive due process serves a purpose similar to that served by adherence to procedural norms, namely, requiring that a state actor stop and think before she acts in a way that may lead to a loss of liberty.) Moreover, that the Due Process Clause is not violated by merely negligent conduct, see Daniels, supra, and Davidson v. Cannon, 474 U. S. 344 (1986), means that a social worker who simply makes a mistake of judgment under what are admittedly complex and difficult conditions will not find herself liable in damages under § 1983.

As the Court today reminds us, “the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment was intended to prevent government ‘from abusing [its] power, or employing it as an instrument of oppression. ’ ” Ante, at 196, quoting Davidson, supra, U. S., at 348. My disagreement with the Court arises from its failure to see that inaction can be every bit as abusive of power as action, that oppression can result when a State undertakes a vital duty and then ignores it. Today’s opinion construes the Due Process Clause to permit a State to displace private sources of protection and then, at the critical moment, to shrug its shoulders and turn away from the harm that it has promised to try to prevent. Because I cannot agree that our Constitution is indifferent to such indifference, I respectfully dissent.

Justice Blackmun,

dissenting.

Today, the Court purports to be the dispassionate oracle of the law, unmoved by "natural sympathy.” Ante, at 202. But, in this pretense, the Court itself retreats into a sterile formalism which prevents it from recognizing either the facts of the case before it or the legal norms that should apply to those facts. As Justice Brennan demonstrates, the facts here involve not mere passivity, but active state intervention in the life of Joshua DeShaney — intervention that triggered a fundamental duty to aid the boy once the State learned of the severe danger to which he was exposed.

The Court fails to recognize this duty because it attempts to draw a sharp and rigid line between action and inaction. But such formalistic reasoning has no place in the interpretation of the broad and stirring Clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment. Indeed, I submit that these Clauses were designed, at least in part, to undo the formalistic legal reasoning that infected antebellum jurisprudence, which the late Professor Robert Cover analyzed so effectively in his significant work entitled Justice Accused (1975).

Like the antebellum judges who denied relief to fugitive slaves, see id., at 119-121, the Court today claims that its decision, however harsh, is compelled by existing legal doctrine. On the contrary, the question presented by this case is an open one, and our Fourteenth Amendment precedents may be read more broadly or narrowly depending upon how one chooses to read them. Faced with the choice, I would adopt a “sympathetic” reading, one which comports with dictates of fundamental justice and recognizes that compassion need not be exiled from the province of judging. Cf. A. Stone, Law, Psychiatry, and Morality 262 (1984) (“We will make mistakes if we go forward, but doing nothing can be the worst mistake. What is required of us is moral ambition. Until our composite sketch becomes a true portrait of humanity we must live with our uncertainty; we will grope, we will struggle, and our compassion may be our only guide and comfort”).

Poor Joshua! Victim of repeated attacks by an irresponsible, bullying, cowardly, and intemperate father, and abandoned by respondents who placed him in a dangerous predicament and who knew or learned what was going on, and yet did essentially nothing except, as the Court revealingly observes, ante, at 193, “dutifully recorded these incidents in [their] files.” It is a sad commentary upon American life, and constitutional principles — so full of late of patriotic fervor and proud proclamations about “liberty and justice for all”— that this child, Joshua DeShaney, now is assigned to live out the remainder of his life profoundly retarded. Joshua and his mother, as petitioners here, deserve — but now are denied by this Court — the opportunity to have the facts of their case considered in the light of the constitutional protection that 42 U. S. C. § 1983 is meant to provide.

       As used here, the term “State” refers generically to state and local governmental entities and their agents.

       Petitioners also argue that the Wisconsin child protection statutes gave Joshua an “entitlement” to receive protective services in accordance with the terms of the statute, an entitlement which would enjoy due process protection against state deprivation under our decision in Board of Regents of State Colleges v. Roth, 408 U. S. 564 (1972). Brief for Petitioners 24-29. But this argument is made for the first time in petitioners’ brief to this Court: it was not pleaded in the complaint, argued to the Court of Appeals as a ground for reversing the District Court, or raised in the petition for certiorari. We therefore decline to consider it here. See Youngberg v. Romeo, 457 U. S., at 316, n. 19; Dothard v. Rawlinson, 433 U. S. 321, 323, n. 1 (1977); Duignan v. United States, 274 U. S. 195, 200 (1927); Old Jordan Mining Milling Co. v. Société Anonyme des Mines, 164 U. S. 261, 264-265 (1896).

       The State may not, of course, selectively deny its protective services to certain disfavored minorities without violating the Equal Protection Clause. See Yick Wo v. Hopkins, 118 U. S. 356 (1886). But no such argument has been made here.

       The genesis of this notion appears to lie in a statement in our opinion in Martinez v. California, 444 U. S. 277 (1980). In that case, we were asked to decide, inter alia, whether state officials could be held liable under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment for the death of a private citizen at the hands of a parolee. Rather than squarely confronting the question presented here — whether the Due Process Clause imposed upon the State an affirmative duty to protect — we affirmed the dismissal of the claim on the narrower ground that the causal connection between the state officials’ decision to release the parolee from prison and the murder was too attenuated to establish a “deprivation” of constitutional rights within the meaning of § 1983. Id,, at 284-285. But we went on to say: “[T]he parole board was not aware that appellants’ decedent, as distinguished from the public at large, faced any special danger. We need not and do not decide that a parole officer could never be deemed to ‘deprive’ someone of life by action taken in connection with the release of a prisoner on parole. But we do hold that at least under the particular circumstances of this parole decision, appellants' decedent’s death is too remote a consequence of the parole officers’ action to hold them responsible under the federal civil rights law.” Id., at 285 (footnote omitted).
      Several of the Courts of Appeals have read this language as implying that once the State learns that a third party poses a special danger to an identified victim, and indicates its willingness to protect the victim against that danger, a “special relationship” arises between State and victim, giving rise to an affirmative duty, enforceable through the Due Process Clause, to render adequate protection. See Estate of Bailey by Oare v. County of York, 768 F. 2d 503, 510-511 (CA3 1985); Jensen v. Conrad, 747 F. 2d 185, 190-194, and n. 11 (CA4 1984) (dicta), cert. denied, 470 U. S. 1052 (1985)); Balistreri v. Pacifica Police Dept., 855 F. 2d 1421, 1425-1426 (CA9 1988). But see, in addition to the opinion of the Seventh Circuit below, Estate of Gilmore v. Buckley, 787 F. 2d 714, 720-723 (CA1), cert. denied, 479 U. S. 882 (1986); Harpole v. Arkansas Dept. of Human Services, 820 F. 2d 923, 926-927 (CA8 1987); Wideman v. Shallowford Community Hospital Inc., 826 F. 2d 1030, 1034-1037 (CA11 1987).

       To make out an Eighth Amendment claim based on the failure to provide adequate medical care, a prisoner must show that the state defendants exhibited “deliberate indifference” to his “serious” medical needs; the mere negligent or inadvertent failure to provide adequate care is not enough. Estelle v. Gamble, 429 U. S., at 105-106. In Whitley v. Albers, 475 U. S. 312 (1986), we suggested that a similar state of mind is required to make out a substantive due process claim in the prison setting. Id., at 326-327.

       The Eighth Amendment applies “only after the State has complied with the constitutional guarantees traditionally associated with criminal prosecutions. . . . [T]he State does not acquire the power to punish with which the Eighth Amendment is concerned until after it has secured a formal adjudication of guilt in accordance with due process of law.” Ingraham v. Wright, 430 U. S. 651, 671-672, n. 40 (1977); see also Revere v. Massachusetts General Hospital, 463 U. S. 239, 244 (1983); Bell v. Wolfish, 441 U. S. 520, 535, n. 16 (1979).

       Even in this situation, we have recognized that the State “has considerable discretion in determining the nature and scope of its responsibilities.” Youngberg v. Romeo, 457 U. S., at 317.

       Of course, the protections of the Due Process Clause, both substantive and procedural, may be triggered when the State, by the affirmative acts of its agents, subjects an involuntarily confined individual to deprivations of liberty which are not among those generally authorized by his confinement. See, e. g., Whitley v. Albers, supra, at 326-327 (shooting inmate); Youngberg v. Romeo, supra, at 316 (shackling involuntarily committed mental patient); Hughes v. Rowe, 449 U. S. 5, 11 (1980) (removing inmate from general prison population and confining him to administrative segregation); Vitek v. Jones, 445 U. S. 480, 491-494 (1980) (transferring inmate to mental health facility).

       Complaint ¶ 16, App. 6 (“At relevant times to and until March 8, 1984, [the date of the final beating,] Joshua DeShaney was in the custody and control of Defendant Randy DeShaney”). Had the State by the affirmative exercise of its power removed Joshua from free society and placed him in a foster home operated by its agents, we might have a situation sufficiently analogous to incarceration or institutionalization to give rise to an affirmative duty to protect. Indeed, several Courts of Appeals have held, by analogy to Estelle and Youngberg, that the State may be held liable under the Due Process Clause for failing to protect children in foster homes from mistreatment at the hands of their foster parents. See Doe v. New York City Dept. of Social Services, 649 F. 2d 134, 141-142 (CA2 1981), after remand, 709 F. 2d 782, cert. denied sub nom. Catholic Home Bureau v. Doe, 464 U. S. 864 (1983); Taylor ex rel. Walker v. Ledbetter, 818 F. 2d 791, 794-797 (CA11 1987) (en banc), cert. pending Ledbetter v. Taylor, No. 87-521. We express no view on the validity of this analogy, however, as it is not before us in the present case.

       Because we conclude that the Due Process Clause did not require the State to protect Joshua from his father, we need not address respondents’ alternative argument that the individual state actors lacked the requisite “state of mind” to make out a due process violation. See Daniels v. Williams, 474 U. S., at 334, n. 3. Similarly, we have no occasion to consider whether the individual respondents might be entitled to a qualified immunity defense, see Anderson v. Creighton, 483 U. S. 635 (1987), or whether the allegations in the complaint are sufficient to support a § 1983 claim against the county and DSS under Monell v. New York City Dept. of Social Services, 436 U. S. 658 (1978), and its progeny.


source: Caselaw Access Project

author: Justice Marshall Justice Stevens,

license: Public Domain

text:
    EU, SECRETARY OF STATE OF CALIFORNIA, et al. v. SAN FRANCISCO COUNTY DEMOCRATIC CENTRAL COMMITTEE et al.
    No. 87-1269.
    Argued December 5, 1988
    Decided February 22, 1989

      Marshall, J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which all other Members joined, except Rehnquist, C. J., who took no part in the consideration or decision of the case. Stevens, J., filed a concurring opinion, post, p. 233.

      Geoffrey L. Graybill, Jr., Deputy Attorney General of California, argued the cause for appellants. With him on the briefs were John K. Van de Kamp, Attorney General, Rich

      ard D. Martl'and, Chief Assistant Attorney General, and N. Eugene Hill, Assistant Attorney General.

      James J. Brosnahan argued the cause for appellees. With him on the brief was Cedric C. Chao.

        Stuart R. Blatt filed a brief for the Libertarian National Committee as amicus curiae.

   Justice Marshall

delivered the opinion of the Court.

The California Elections Code prohibits the official governing bodies of political parties from endorsing candidates in party primaries. It also dictates the organization and composition of those bodies, limits the term of office of a party chair, and requires that the chair rotate between residents of northern and southern California. The Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit held that these provisions violate the free speech and associational rights of political parties and their members guaranteed by the First and Fourteenth Amendments. 826 F. 2d 814 (1987). We noted probable jurisdiction, 485 U. S. 1004 (1988), and now affirm.

I

A

The State of California heavily regulates its political parties. Although the laws vary in extent and detail from party to party, certain requirements apply to all “ballot-qualified” parties. The California Elections Code (Code) provides that the “official governing bodies” for such a party are its “state convention,” “state central committee,” and “county central committees,” Cal. Elec.. Code Ann. § 11702 (West 1977), and that these bodies are responsible for conducting the party’s campaigns. At the same time, the Code provides that the official governing bodies “shall not endorse, support, or oppose, any candidate for nomination by that party for partisan office in the direct primary election.” Ibid. It is a misdemeanor for any primary candidate, or a person on her behalf, to claim that she is the officially endorsed candidate of the party. § 29430.

Although the official governing bodies of political parties are barred from issuing endorsements, other groups are not. Political clubs affiliated with a party, labor organizations, political action committees, other politically active associations, and newspapers frequently endorse primary candidates. With the official party organizations silenced by the ban, it has been possible for a candidate with views antithetical to those of her party nevertheless to win its primary.

In addition to restricting the primary activities of the official governing bodies of political parties, California also regulates their internal affairs. Separate statutory provisions dictate the size and composition of the state central committees; set forth rules governing the selection and removal of committee members; fix the maximum term of office for the chair of the state central committee; require that the chair rotate between residents of northern and southern California; specify the time and place of committee meetings; and limit the dues parties may impose on members. Violations of these provisions are criminal offenses punishable by fine and imprisonment.

B

Various county central committees of the Democratic and Republican Parties, the state central committee of the Libertarian Party, members of various state and county central committees, and other groups and individuals active in partisan politics in California brought this action in federal court against state officials responsible for enforcing the Code (State or California). They contended that the ban on primary endorsements and the restrictions on internal party governance deprive political parties and their members of the rights of free speech and free association guaranteed by the First and Fourteenth Amendments of the United States Constitution. The first count of the complaint challenged the ban on endorsements in partisan primary elections; the second count challenged the ban on endorsements in nonpartisan school, county, and municipal elections; and the third count challenged the provisions that prescribe the composition of state central committees, the term of office and eligibility criteria for state central committee chairs, the time and place of state and county central committee meetings, and the dues county committee members must pay.

The plaintiffs moved for summary judgment, in support of which they filed 28 declarations from the chairs of each plaintiff central committee, prominent political scientists, and elected officials from California and other States. The State moved to dismiss and filed a cross-motion for summary judgment supported by one declaration from a former state senator.

The District Court granted summary judgment for the plaintiffs on the first count, ruling that the ban on primary endorsements in §§11702 and 29430 violated the First Amendment as applied to the States through the Fourteenth Amendment. The court stayed all proceedings on the second count under the abstention doctrine of Railroad Comm’n of Texas v. Pullman Co., 312 U. S. 496 (1941). On the third count, the court ruled that the laws prescribing the composition of state central committees, limiting the committee chairs’ terms of office, and designating that the chair rotate between residents of northern and southern California violate the First Amendment. The court denied summary judgment with respect to the statutory provisions establishing the time and place of committee meetings and the amount of dues. Civ. No. C-83-5599 MHP (ND Cal., May 3, 1984).

The Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit affirmed. 792 F. 2d 802 (1986). This Court vacated that decision, 479 U. S. 1024 (1987), and remanded for further consideration in light of Tashjian v. Republican Party of Connecticut, 479 U. S. 208 (1986).

After supplemental briefing, the Court of Appeals again affirmed. 826 F. 2d 814 (1987). The court first rejected the State’s arguments based on nonjusticiability, lack of standing, Eleventh Amendment immunity, and Pullman abstention. 826 F. 2d, at 821-825. Turning to the merits, the court characterized the prohibition on primary endorsements as an “outright ban” on political speech. Id., at 833. “Prohibiting the governing body of a political party from supporting some candidates and opposing others patently infringes both the right of the party to express itself freely and the right of party members to an unrestricted flow of political information.” Id., at 835. The court rejected the State’s argument that the ban served a compelling state interest in preventing internal party dissension and factionalism: “The government simply has no legitimate interest in protecting political parties from disruptions of their own making.” Id., at 834. The court noted, moreover, that the State had not shown that banning primary endorsements protects parties from factionalism. Ibid. The court concluded that the ban was not necessary to protect voters from confusion, stating, “California’s ban on preprimary endorsements is a form of paternalism that is inconsistent with the First Amendment.” Id., at 836.

The Court of Appeals also found that California’s regulation of internal party affairs “burdens the parties’ right to govern themselves as they think best.” Id., at 827. This interference with the parties’ and their members’ First Amendment rights was not justified by a compelling state interest, for a State has a legitimate interest “in orderly elections, not orderly parties.” Id., at 831. In any event, the court noted, the State had failed to submit “ ‘a shred of evidence,’” id., at 833 (quoting Civ. No. C-83-5599 (ND Cal., May 3, 1984)), that the regulations of party internal affairs helped minimize party factionalism. Accordingly, the court held that the challenged provisions were unconstitutional under the First and Fourteenth Amendments.

II

A State’s broad power to regulate the time, place, and manner of elections “does not extinguish the State’s responsibility to observe the limits established by the First Amendment rights of the State’s citizens.” Tashjian v. Republican Party of Connecticut, 479 U. S., at 217. To assess the constitutionality of a state election law, we first examine whether it burdens rights protected by the First and Fourteenth Amendments. Id., at 214; Anderson v. Celebrezze, 460 U. S. 780, 789 (1983). If the challenged law burdens the rights of political parties and their members, it can survive constitutional scrutiny only if the State shows that it advances a compelling state interest, Tashjian, supra, at 217, 222; Illinois Bd. of Elections v. Socialist Workers Party, 440 U. S. 173, 184 (1979); American Party of Texas v. White, 415 U. S. 767, 780, and n. 11 (1974); Williams v. Rhodes, 393 U. S. 23, 31 (1968), and is narrowly tailored to serve that interest, Illinois Bd. of Elections, supra, at 185; Kusper v. Pontikes, 414 U. S. 51, 58-59 (1973); Dunn v. Blumstein, 405 U. S. 330, 343 (1972).

A

We first consider California’s prohibition on primary endorsements by the official governing bodies of political parties. California concedes that its ban implicates the First Amendment, Tr. of Oral Arg. 17, but contends that the burden is “miniscule.” Id., at 7. We disagree. The ban directly affects speech which “is at the core of our electoral process and of the First Amendment freedoms.” Williams v. Rhodes, supra, at 32. We have recognized repeatedly that “debate on the qualifications of candidates [is] integral to the operation of the system of government established by our Constitution.” Buckley v. Valeo, 424 U. S. 1, 14 (1976) (per curiam); see also NAACP v. Claiborne Hardware Co., 458 U. S. 886, 913 (1982); Carey v. Brown, 447 U. S. 455, 467 (1980); Garrison v. Louisiana, 379 U. S. 64, 74-75 (1964). Indeed, the First Amendment “has its fullest and most urgent application” to speech uttered during a campaign for political office. Monitor Patriot Co. v. Roy, 401 U. S. 265, 272 (1971); see also Mills v. Alabama, 384 U. S. 214, 218 (1966). Free discussion about candidates for public office is no less critical before a primary than before a general election. Cf. Stover v. Brown, 415 U. S. 724, 735 (1974); Smith v. Allwright, 321 U. S. 649, 666 (1944); United States v. Classic, 313 U. S. 299, 314 (1941). In both instances, the “election campaign is a means of disseminating ideas as well as attaining political office.” Illinois Bd. of Elections, supra, at 186.

California’s ban on primary endorsements, however, prevents party governing bodies from stating whether a candidate adheres to the tenets of the party or whether party officials believe that the candidate is qualified for the position sought. This prohibition directly hampers the ability of a party to spread its message and hamstrings voters seeking to inform themselves about the candidates and the campaign issues. See Tashjian, supra, at 220-222; Pacific Gas & Electric Co. v. Public Utilities Comm’n of California, 475 U. S. 1, 8 (1986); Brown v. Hartlage, 456 U. S. 45, 60 (1982); First National Bank of Boston v. Bellotti, 435 U. S. 765, 791-792 (1978). A “highly paternalistic approach” limiting what people may hear is generally suspect, Virginia State Bd. of Pharmacy v. Virginia Citizens Consumer Council, Inc., 425 U. S. 748, 770 (1976); see also First National Bank of Boston, supra, at 790-792, but it is particularly egregious where the State censors the political speech a political party shares with its members. See Roberts v. United States Jaycees, 468 U. S. 609, 634 (1984) (O’Connor, J., concurring).

Barring political parties from endorsing and opposing candidates not only burdens their freedom of speech but also infringes upon their freedom of association. It is well settled that partisan political organizations enjoy freedom of association protected by the First and Fourteenth Amendments. Tashjian, supra, at 214; see also Elrod v. Burns, 427 U. S. 347, 357 (1976) (plurality opinion). Freedom of association means not only that an individual voter has the right to associate with the political party of her choice, Tashjian, supra, at 214 (quoting Kusper, supra, at 57), but also that a political party has a right to “ ‘identify the people who constitute the association,”’ Tashjian, supra, at 214 (quoting Democratic Party of United States v. Wisconsin ex rel. La Follette, 450 U. S. 107, 122 (1981)); cf. NAACP v. Alabama ex rel. Patterson, 357 U. S. 449, 460-462 (1958), and to select a “standard bearer who best represents the party’s ideologies and preferences.” Ripon Society, Inc. v. National Republican Party, 173 U. S. App. D. C. 350, 384, 525 F. 2d 567, 601 (1975) (Tamm, J., concurring in result), cert, denied, 424 U. S. 933 (1976).

Depriving a political party of the power to endorse suffocates this right. The endorsement ban prevents parties from promoting candidates “at the crucial juncture at which the appeal to common principles may be translated into concerted action, and hence to political power in the community.” Tashjian, supra, at 216. Even though individual members of the state central committees and county central committees are free to issue endorsements, imposing limitations “on individuals wishing to band.together to advance their views on a ballot measure, while placing none on individuals acting alone, is clearly a restraint on the right of association.” Citizens Against Rent Control/Coalition for Fair Housing v. Berkeley, 454 U. S. 290, 296 (1981).

Because the ban burdens appellees’ rights to free speech and free association, it can only survive constitutional scrutiny if it serves a compelling governmental interest. The State offers two: stable government and protecting voters from confusion and undue influence. Maintaining a stable political system is, unquestionably, a compelling state interest. See Storer v. Brown, 415 U. S., at 736. California, however, never adequately explains how banning parties from endorsing or opposing primary candidates advances that interest. There is no showing, for example, that California’s political system is any more stable now than it was in 1963, when the legislature enacted the ban. Nor does the State explain what makes the California system so peculiar that it is virtually the only State that has determined that such a ban is necessary.

The only explanation the State offers is that its compelling interest in stable government embraces a similar interest in party stability. Brief for Appellants 47. The State relies heavily on Storer v. Brown, supra, where we stated that because “splintered parties and unrestrained factionalism may do significant damage to the fabric of government,” 415 U. S., at 736, States may regulate elections to ensure that “some sort of order, rather than chaos . . . accompanies] the democratic processes,” id., at 730. Our decision in Storer, however, does not stand for the proposition that a State may enact election laws to mitigate intraparty factionalism during a primary campaign. To the contrary, Storer recognized that “contending forces within the party employ the primary campaign and the primary election to finally settle their differences.” Id., at 735. A primary is not hostile to intra-party feuds; rather it is an ideal forum in which to resolve them. Ibid.; American Party of Texas v. White, 415 U. S., at 781. Tashjian recognizes precisely this distinction. In that case, we noted that a State may enact laws to “prevent the disruption of the political parties from without” but not, as in this case, laws “to prevent the parties from taking internal steps affecting their own process for the selection of candidates.” 479 U. S., at 224.

It is no answer to argue, as does the State, that a party that issues primary endorsements risks intraparty friction which may endanger the party’s general election prospects. Presumably a party will be motivated by self-interest and not engage in acts or speech that run counter to its political success. However, even if a ban on endorsements saves a political party from pursuing self-destructive acts, that would not justify a State substituting its judgment for that of the party. See ibid.; Democratic Party of United States, 450 U. S., at 124. Because preserving party unity during a primary is not a compelling state interest, we must look elsewhere to justify the challenged law.

The State’s second justification for the ban on party endorsements and statements of opposition is that it is necessary to protect primary voters from confusion and undue influence. Certainly the State has a legitimate interest in fostering an informed electorate. Tashjian, supra, at 220; Anderson v. Celebrezze, 460 U. S., at 796; American Party of Texas v. White, supra, at 782, n. 14; Bullock v. Carter, 405 U. S. 134, 145 (1972); Jenness v. Fortson, 403 U. S. 431, 442 (1971). However, “‘[a] State’s claim that it is enhancing the ability of its citizenry to make wise decisions by restricting the flow of information to them must be viewed with some skepticism.’” Tashjian, supra, at 221 (quoting Anderson v. Celebrezze, supra, at 798). While a State may regulate the flow of information between political associations and their members when necessary to prevent fraud and corruption, see Buckley v. Valeo, 424 U. S., at 26-27; Jenness v. Fortson, supra, at 442, there is no evidence that California’s ban on party primary endorsements serves that purpose.

Because the ban on primary endorsements by political parties burdens political speech while serving no compelling governmental interest, we hold that §§11702 and 29430 violate the First and Fourteenth Amendments.

B

We turn next to California’s restrictions on the organization and composition of official governing bodies, the limits on the term of office for state central committee chair, and the requirement that the chair rotate between residents of northern and southern California. These laws directly implicate the associational rights of political parties and their members. As we noted in Tashjian, a political party’s “determination ... of the structure which best allows it to pursue its political goals, is protected by the Constitution.” 479 U. S., at 224. Freedom of association also encompasses a political party’s decisions about the identity of, and the process for electing, its leaders. See Democratic Party of United States, supra (State cannot dictate process of selecting state delegates to Democratic National Convention); Cousins v. Wigoda, 419 U. S. 477 (1975) (State cannot dictate who may sit as state delegates to Democratic National Convention); cf. Tashjian, supra, at 235-236 (Scalia, J., dissenting) (“The ability of the members of [a political p]arty to select their own candidate . . . unquestionably implicates an associational freedom”).

The laws at issue burden these rights. By requiring parties to establish official governing bodies at the county level, California prevents the political parties from governing themselves with the structure they think best. And by specifying who shall be the members of the parties’ official governing bodies, California interferes with the parties’ choice of leaders. A party might decide, for example, that it will be more effective if a greater number of its official leaders are local activists rather than Washington-based elected officials. The Code prevents such a change. A party might also decide that the state central committee chair needs more than two years to successfully formulate and implement policy. The Code prevents such an extension of the chair’s term of office. A party might find that a resident of northern California would be particularly effective in promoting the party’s message and in unifying the party. The Code prevents her from chairing the state central committee unless the preceding chair was from the southern part of the State.

Each restriction thus limits a political party’s discretion in how to organize itself, conduct its affairs, and select its leaders. Indeed, the associational rights at stake are much stronger than those we credited in Tashjian. There, we found that a party’s right to free association embraces a right to allow registered voters who are not party members to vote in the party’s primary. Here, party members do not seek to associate with nonparty members, but only with one another in freely choosing their party leaders.

Because the challenged laws burden the associational rights of political parties and their members, the question is whether they serve a compelling state interest. A State indisputably has a compelling interest in preserving the integrity of its election process. Rosario v. Rockefeller, 410 U. S. 752, 761 (1973). Toward that end, a State may enact laws that interfere with a party’s internal affairs when necessary to ensure that elections are fair and honest. Storer v. Brown, 415 U. S., at 730. For example, a State may impose certain eligibility requirements for voters in the general election even though they limit parties’ ability to garner support and members. See, e. g., Dunn v. Blumstein, 405 U. S., at 343-344 (residence requirement); Oregon v. Mitchell, 400 U. S. 112, 118 (1970) (age minimum); Kramer v. Union Free School Dist. No. 15, 395 U. S. 621, 625 (1969) (citizenship requirement). We have also recognized that a State may impose restrictions that promote the integrity of primary elections. See, e. g., American Party of Texas v. White, 415 U. S., at 779-780 (requirement that major political parties nominate candidates through a primary and that minor parties nominate candidates through conventions); id., at 785-786 (limitation on voters’ participation to one primary and bar on voters both voting in a party primary and signing a petition supporting an independent candidate); Rosario v. Rockefeller, supra (waiting periods before voters may change party registration and participate in another party’s primary); Bullock v. Carter, 405 U. S., at 145 (reasonable filing fees as a condition of placement on the ballot). None of these restrictions, however, involved direct regulation of a party’s leaders. Rather, the infringement on the associational rights of the parties and their members was the indirect consequence of laws necessary to the successful completion of a party’s external responsibilities in ensuring the order and fairness of elections.

In the instant case, the State has not shown that its regulation of internal party governance is necessary to the integrity of the electoral process. Instead, it contends that the challenged laws serve a compelling “interest in the ‘democratic management of the political party’s internal affairs.’” Brief for Appellants 43 (quoting 415 U. S., at 781, n. 15). This, however, is not a case where intervention is necessary to prevent the derogation of the civil rights of party adherents. Cf. Smith v. Allwright, 321 U. S. 649 (1944). Moreover, as we have observed, the State has no interest in “protecting] the integrity of the Party against the Party itself.” Tashjian, 479 U. S., at 224. The State further claims that limiting the term of the state central committee chair and requiring that the chair rotate between residents of northern and southern California helps “prevent regional friction from reaching a‘critical mass.’” Brief for Appellants 48. However, a State cannot substitute its judgment for that of the party as to the desirability of a particular internal party structure, any more than it can tell a party that its proposed communication to party members is unwise. Tashjian, supra, at 224.

In sum, a State cannot justify regulating a party’s internal affairs without showing that such regulation is necessary to ensure an election that is orderly and fair. Because California has made no such showing here, the challenged laws cannot be upheld.

Ill

For the reasons stated above, we hold that the challenged California election laws burden the First Amendment rights of political parties and their members without serving a compelling state interest. Accordingly, the judgment of the Court of Appeals is

Affirmed.

Chief Justice Rehnquist took no part in the consideration or decision of this case.

Justice Stevens,

concurring.

Today the Court relies on its opinion in Illinois Bd. of Elections v. Socialist Workers Party, 440 U. S. 173, 183-185 (1979) — and, in particular, on a portion of that opinion that .1 did not join — for its formulation of the governing standards in election cases. In that case Justice Blackmun explained his acceptance of the Court’s approach in words that precisely express my views about this case. He wrote:

“Although I join the Court’s opinion . . . , I add these comments to record purposefully, and perhaps somewhat belatedly, my unrelieved discomfort with what seems to be a continuing tendency in this Court to use as tests such easy phrases as ‘compelling [state] interest’ and ‘least drastic [or restrictive] means.’ See, ante, at 184, 185, and 186. I have never been able fully to appreciate just what a ‘compelling state interest’ is. If it means ‘convincingly controlling,’ or ‘incapable of being overcome’ upon any balancing process, then, of course, the test merely announces an inevitable result, and the test is no test at all. And, for me, ‘least drastic means’ is a slippery slope and also the signal of the result the Court has chosen to reach. A judge would be unimaginative indeed if he could not come up with something a little less ‘drastic’ or a little less ‘restrictive’ in almost any situation, and thereby enable himself to vote to strike legislation down. This is reminiscent of the Court’s indulgence, a few decades ago, in substantive due process in the economic area as a means of nullification.
“I feel, therefore, and have always felt, that these phrases are really not very helpful for constitutional analysis. They are too convenient and result oriented, and I must endeavor to disassociate myself from them. Apart from their use, however, the result the Court reaches here is the correct one. It is with these reservations that I join the Court’s opinion.” Id., at 188-189.

With those same reservations I join the Court’s opinion today.

       A “ballot-qualified” party is eligible to participate in any primary election because: (a) during the last gubernatorial election one of its candidates for state-wide office received two percent of the vote; (b) one percent of the State’s voters are registered with the party; or (c) a petition establishing the party has been filed by ten percent of the State’s voters. Cal. Elec. Code Ann. § 6480 (West 1977).
      In the interest of simplicity, we use the terms “ballot-qualified party” and “political party” interchangeably.

       The Code requires the state central committee of each party to conduct campaigns for the party, employ campaign directors, and develop whatever campaign organizations serve the best interests of the party. Cal. Elec. Code Ann. § 8776 (West Supp. 1989) (Democratic Party); § 9276 (Republican Party); §9688 (American Independent Party); §9819 (Peace and Freedom Party). The county central committees, in turn, “have charge of the party campaign under general direction of the state central committee.” § 8940 (Democratic Party); § 9440 (Republican Party); § 9740 (American Independent Party); § 9850 (Peace and Freedom Party). In addition, they “perform such other duties and services for th[e] political party as seem to be for the benefit of the party.” §8942 (Democratic Party); §9443 (Republican Party); §9742 (American Independent Party); §9852 (Peace and Freedom Party).

       For example, while voters cannot learn what the Democratic state and county central committees think of candidates, they may be flooded with endorsements from disparate groups across the State such as the Berkeley Democratic Club, the Muleskinners Democratic Club, and the District 8 Democratic Club. Addendum to Motion to Affirm or to Dismiss 39a ¶ 7 (Addendum) (declaration of Mary King, chair of the Alameda County Democratic Central Committee); Addendum 48 ¶ 7 (declaration of Linda Post, chair of San Francisco County Democratic Central Committee).

       In 1980, for example, Tom Metzger won the Democratic Party’s nomination for United States House of Representative from the San Diego area, although he was a Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan and held views antithetical to those of the Democratic Party. Addendum 15a ¶ 2 (declaration of Edmond Costantini, member of the Executive Board of the Democratic state central committee).

       For example, the Code dictates the precise mix of elected officials, party nominees, and party activists who are members of the state central committees of the Republican and Democratic Parties as well as who may nominate the various committee members. Cal. Elec. Code Ann. §§8660, 8661, 8663 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Democratic Party); §§ 9160-9164 (Republican Party). Other parties are similarly regulated. See §9640 (American Independent Party); §§ 9762, 9765 (Peace and Freedom Party).

       §§ 8663-8667, 8669 (Democratic Party); §§ 9161-9164, 9168, 9170 (Republican Party); §§ 9641-9644, 9648-9650 (West 1977) (American Independent Party); §§ 9790-9794 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Peace and Freedom Party).

       The Code limits the term of office of the chair of the state central committee to two years and prohibits successive terms. See §8774 (West Supp. 1989) (Democratic Party); §9274 (West 1977) (Republican Party); § 9685 (American Independent Party); § 9816 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Peace and Freedom Party).

       § 8774 (West Supp. 1989) (Democratic state central committee); § 9274 (West 1977) (Republican state central committee); § 9816 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Peace and Freedom state central committee).

       §§ 8710, 8711 (West Supp. 1989) (Democratic state central committee); §§ 8920, 8921 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Democratic county central committee); §9210 (West Supp. 1989) (Republican state central committee); §§ 9420-9421 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Republican county central committee); §§ 9730-9732 (American Independent county central committee); § 9800 (West 1977) (Peace and Freedom state central committee); §§ 9830, 9840-9842 (Peace and Freedom county central committee).

       §§8775, 8945 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Democratic Party); §9275 (Republican Party); §§ 9687, 9745 (West 1977) (American Independent Party); §§ 9818, 9855 (Peace and Freedom Party).

       The plaintiffs sued March Fong Eu, Secretary of State of California; John K. Van de Kamp, Attorney General of California; Arlo Smith, District Attorney of San Francisco County; and Leo Himmelsbach, District Attorney of Santa Clara County.

       The plaintiffs also asserted that the statutes violated the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. Because the District Court held that the statutes violate the First Amendment, it did not reach this claim.

       An appeal was then pending in the California Supreme Court presenting a First Amendment challenge to a ban on endorsements by political parties of candidates in nonpartisan school, county, and municipal elections. The California Supreme Court ultimately decided that the Code did not prohibit such endorsements and so did not reach the First Amendment question. Unger v. Superior Court, 37 Cal. 3d 612, 692 P. 2d 238 (1984). A ban on party endorsements in nonpartisan elections subsequently was enacted by ballot initiative. A Federal District Court has ruled that this ban violates the First and Fourteenth Amendments. Geary v. Renne, 708 F. Supp. 278 (ND Cal.), stayed, 856 F. 2d 1456 (CA9 1988).

       The District Court invalidated the following Code sections: Cal. Elec. Code §§8660, 8661, 8663-8667, 8669 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Democratic state central committee); §§9160, 9160.5, 9161, 9161.5, 9162-9164 (Republican state central committee); § 9274 (West 1977) (Republican state central committee chair); and § 9816 (West 1977 and Supp. 1989) (Peace and Freedom state central committee chair). In addition, it held that § 29102 (West 1977) was unconstitutional as applied.

       California contends that it need not show that its endorsement ban serves a compelling state interest because the political parties have “consented” to it. In support of this claim, California observes that the legislators who could repeal the ban belong to political parties, that the bylaws of some parties prohibit primary endorsements, and that parties continue to participate in state-run primaries.
      This argument is fatally flawed in several respects. We have never held that a political party’s consent will cure a statute that otherwise violates the First Amendment. Even aside from this fundamental defect, California’s consent argument is contradicted by the simple fact that the official governing bodies of various political parties have joined this lawsuit. In addition, the Democratic and Libertarian Parties moved to issue endorsements following the Court of Appeals’ invalidation of the endorsement ban.
      There are other flaws in the State’s argument. Simply because a legislator belongs to a political party does not make her at all times a representative of party interests. In supporting the endorsement ban, an individual legislator may be acting on her understanding of the public good or her interest in reelection. The independence of legislators from their parties is illustrated by the California Legislature’s frequent refusal to amend the election laws in accordance with the wishes of political parties. See, e. g., Addendum 12a-13a ¶’|7-9 (declaration of Bert Coffey, chair of the Democratic state central committee). Moreover, the State’s argument ignores those parties with negligible, if any, representation in the legislature.
      That the bylaws of some parties prohibit party primary endorsements also does not prove consent. These parties may have chosen to reflect state election law in their bylaws, rather than permit or require conduct prohibited by law. Nor does the fact that parties continue to participate in the state-run primary process indicate that they favor each regulation imposed upon that process. A decision to participate in state-run primaries more likely reflects a party’s determination that ballot participation is more advantageous than the alternatives, that is, supporting independent candidates or conducting write-in campaigns. See Store)' v. Brown, 415 U. S. 724, 745 (1974); Anderson v. Celebrezze, 460 U. S. 780, 799, n. 26 (1983).
      Finally, the State’s focus on the parties’ alleged consent ignores the independent First Amendment rights of the parties’ members. It is wholly undemonstrated that the members authorized the parties to consent to infringements of members’ rights.

       The State also claims that the ban on primary endorsements serves a compelling state interest in “ ‘confining each voter to a single nominating act.’” Tashjian v. Republican Party of Connecticut, 479 U. S. 208, 225, n. 13 (1986) (quoting Anderson, supra, at 802, n. 29). This argument is meritless. It fails to distinguish between a nominating act — the vote cast at the primary election — and speech that may influence that act. The logic of the State’s argument not only would support a ban on endorsements by every organization and individual, but also would justify a total ban on all discussion of a candidate’s qualifications and political positions. Such a blanket prohibition cannot coexist with the constitutional protection of political speech.
      The State’s claim that the endorsement ban is necessary to serve any compelling state interest is called into question by its argument before the District Court and the Court of Appeals that this action is not justiciable because the State has never enforced the challenged election laws. 826 F. 2d 814, 821 (1987).

       New Jersey also bans primary endorsements by political parties. N. J. Stat. Ann. § 19:34-52 (West 1964); see Weisburd, Candidate-Making and the Constitution: Constitutional Restraints on and Protections of Party Nominating Methods, 57 S. Cal. L. Rev. 213,271-272, n. 343 (1984). Florida’s statutory ban on primary endorsements by political parties was held to violate the First Amendment. See Abrams v. Reno, 452 F. Supp. 1166, 1171-1172 (SD Fla. 1978), aff’d, 649 F. 2d 342 (CA5 1981), cert. denied, 455 U. S. 1016 (1982). Several States provide formal procedures for party primary endorsements. See, e. g., Conn. Gen. Stat. § 9-390 (1967 and Supp. 1988); R. I. Gen. Laws § 17-12-4 (1988); see also Advisory Commission on Intergovernmental Relations, The Transformation in American Politics: Implications for Federalism 148 (1986).

       It is doubtful that the silencing of official party committees, alone among the various groups interested in the outcome of a primary election, is the key to protecting voters from confusion. Indeed, the growing number of endorsements by political organizations using the labels “Democratic” or “Republican” has likely misled voters into believing that the official governing bodies were supporting the candidates.
      The State makes no showing, moreover, that voters are unduly influenced by party endorsements. There is no evidence that an endorsement issued by an official party organization carries more weight than one issued by a newspaper or a labor union. In States where parties are permitted to issue primary endorsements, voters may consider the parties’ views on the candidates but still exercise independent judgment when casting their vote. For example, in the 1982 New York Democratic gubernatorial contest, Mario Cuomo won the primary over Edward Koch, who had been endorsed by the party. That year gubernatorial candidates endorsed by their parties also lost the primary election to nonendorsed candidates in Massachusetts and Minnesota. Even where the party-endorsed candidate wins the primary, one study has concluded that the party endorsement has little, if any effect, on the way voters cast their vote. App. 97-98 *|¶ 10, 14-17 (declaration of Malcolm E. Jewell, Professor of Political Science, University of Kentucky).

       The State suggested at oral argument that the endorsement ban prevents fraud by barring party officials from misrepresenting that they speak for the party. To the extent that the State suggests that only the primary election results can constitute a party endorsement, Tr. of Oral Arg. 8-9, it confuses an endorsement from the official governing bodies that may influence election results with the results themselves. To the extent that the State is claiming that the appellees are not authorized to represent the official party governing bodies and their members, the State simply is reasserting its standing claim, which the District Court rejected. Civ. No. C-83-5599 (ND Cal., June 1,1984) (“[T]he plaintiff central committees . . . have authorization and capacity to bring and maintain this litigation”). The Court of Appeals did not disturb this ruling, 826 F. 2d, at 822, n. 17; nor do we.

       For example, the Libertarian Party was forced to abandon its region-based organization in favor of the statutorily mandated county-based system.

       By regulating the identity of the parties’ leaders, the challenged statutes may also color the parties’ message and interfere with the parties’ decisions as to the best means to promote that message.

         Marchioro v. Chaney, 442 U. S. 191 (1979), is not to the contrary. There we upheld a Washington statute mandating that political parties create a state central committee, to which the Democratic Party, not the State, had assigned significant responsibilities in administering the party, raising and distributing funds to candidates, conducting campaigns, and setting party policy. Id., at 198-199. The statute only required that the state central committee perform certain limited functions such as filling vacancies on the party ticket, nominating Presidential electors and delegates to national conventions, and calling state-wide conventions. The party members did not claim that these statutory requirements imposed impermissible burdens on the party or themselves, so we had no occasion to consider whether the challenged law burdened the party’s First Amendment rights, and if so, whether the law served a compelling state interest. Id., at 197, n. 12. Here, in contrast, it is state law, not a political party’s charter, that places the state central committees at a party’s helm and, in particular, assigns the statutorily mandated committee responsibility for conducting the party’s campaigns.

       Because we find that curbing intraparty friction is not a compelling state interest as long as the electoral process remains fair and orderly, we need not address the appellees’ contention that the challenged laws weaken rather than strengthen parties.