Mallory v. Norfolk Southern/Opinion of Justice Barrett

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Alito, J., concurring in part and concurring in the judgment

Robert Mallory v. Norfolk Southern Railway Co.
Supreme Court of the United States

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4330658Robert Mallory v. Norfolk Southern Railway Co.Supreme Court of the United States

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES

No. 21–1168

ROBERT MALLORY, PETITIONER v. NORFOLK SOUTHERN RAILWAY CO.
ON WRIT OF CERTIORARI TO THE SUPREME COURT OF PENNSYLVANIA, EASTERN DISTRICT
[June 27, 2023]

Justice Barrett, with whom The Chief Justice, Justice Kagan, and Justice Kavanaugh join, dissenting.

For 75 years, we have held that the Due Process Clause does not allow state courts to assert general jurisdiction over foreign defendants merely because they do business in the State. International Shoe Co. v. Washington, 326 U. S. 310, 317 (1945). Pennsylvania nevertheless claims general jurisdiction over all corporations that lawfully do business within its borders. As the Commonwealth’s own courts recognized, that flies in the face of our precedent. See Daimler AG v. Bauman, 571 U. S. 117, 139–140 (2014).

The Court finds a way around this settled rule. All a State must do is compel a corporation to register to conduct business there (as every State does) and enact a law making registration sufficient for suit on any cause (as every State could do). Then, every company doing business in the State is subject to general jurisdiction based on implied “consent”—not contacts. That includes suits, like this one, with no connection whatsoever to the forum.

Such an approach does not formally overrule our traditional contacts-based approach to jurisdiction, but it might as well. By relabeling their long-arm statutes, States may now manufacture “consent” to personal jurisdiction. Because I would not permit state governments to circumvent constitutional limits so easily, I respectfully dissent.

I
A

Personal jurisdiction is the authority of a court to issue a judgment that binds a defendant. If a defendant submits to a court’s authority, the court automatically acquires personal jurisdiction. Insurance Corp. of Ireland v. Compagnie des Bauxites de Guinee, 456 U. S. 694, 703 (1982). But if a defendant contests the court’s authority, the court must determine whether it can nevertheless assert coercive power over the defendant. That calculus turns first on the statute or rule defining the persons within the court’s reach. See World-Wide Volkswagen Corp. v. Woodson, 444 U. S. 286, 290 (1980). It depends next on the Due Process Clause, which guards a defendant’s right to resist the judicial authority of a sovereign to which it has an insufficient tie. International Shoe, 326 U. S., at 316. The Clause has the companion role of ensuring that state courts “do not reach out beyond the limits imposed on them by their status as coequal sovereigns in a federal system.” World-Wide Volkswagen, 444 U. S., at 291–292.

Our precedent divides personal jurisdiction into two categories: specific and general. Both are subject to the demands of the Due Process Clause. Specific jurisdiction, as its name suggests, allows a state court to adjudicate specific claims against a defendant. When a defendant “purposefully avails itself of the privilege of conducting activities within the forum State,” Hanson v. Denckla, 357 U. S. 235, 253 (1958), that State’s courts may adjudicate claims that “ ‘arise out of or relate to the defendant’s contacts’ with the forum,” Ford Motor Co. v. Montana Eighth Judicial Dist. Court, 592 U. S. ___, ___ (2021) (slip op., at 6) (quoting Bristol-Myers Squibb Co. v. Superior Court of Cal., San Francisco Cty., 582 U. S. 255, 262 (2017)).

General jurisdiction, by contrast, allows a state court to adjudicate “ ‘any and all claims’ brought against a defendant.” Ford Motor, 592 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 5) (quoting Goodyear Dunlop Tires Operations, S. A. v. Brown, 564 U. S. 915, 919 (2011)). This sweeping authority exists only when the defendant’s connection to the State is tight—so tight, in fact, that the defendant is “ ‘at home’ ” there. Ford Motor, 592 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 5). An individual is typically “at home” in her domicile, Goodyear, 564 U. S., at 924, and a corporation is typically “at home” in both its place of incorporation and principal place of business, Daimler, 571 U. S., at 137. Absent an exceptional circumstance, general jurisdiction is cabined to these locations. Id., at 139.

B

This case involves a Pennsylvania statute authorizing courts to exercise general jurisdiction over corporations that are not “at home” in the Commonwealth. All foreign corporations must register to do business in Pennsylvania, 15 Pa. Cons. Stat. §411(a) (2014), and all registrants are subject to suit on “any cause” in the Commonwealth’s courts, 42 Pa. Cons. Stat. §§5301(a)(2)(i), (b) (2019). Section 5301 thus purports to empower Pennsylvania courts to adjudicate any and all claims against corporations doing business there.

As the Pennsylvania Supreme Court recognized, this statute “clearly, palpably, and plainly violates the Constitution.” 266 A. 3d 542, 565–566 (2021). Look no further than BNSF R. Co. v. Tyrrell, a case with remarkably similar facts—and one that the Court conspicuously ignores. 581 U. S. 402 (2017). There, we assessed whether Montana’s courts could exercise general jurisdiction over the BNSF railroad. No plaintiff resided in Montana or suffered an injury there. Like Mallory, one of the plaintiffs alleged that the railroad exposed him to toxic substances that caused his cancer. Id., at 406. Like Norfolk Southern, BNSF had tracks and employees in the forum, but it was neither incorporated nor headquartered there. Id., at 406–407. We rejected Montana’s assertion of general jurisdiction over BNSF because “in-state business … does not suffice to permit the assertion of general jurisdiction over claims … that are unrelated to any activity occurring in [the State].” Id., at 414. Daimler and Goodyear, we explained, could not have made that any clearer. BNSF, 581 U. S., at 414.

The same rule applies here. The Pennsylvania statute announces that registering to do business in the Commonwealth “shall constitute a sufficient basis” for general jurisdiction. §5301(a). But as our precedent makes crystal clear, simply doing business is insufficient. Absent an exceptional circumstance, a corporation is subject to general jurisdiction only in a State where it is incorporated or has its principal place of business. Ford Motor, 592 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 5); Daimler, 571 U. S., at 139; Goodyear, 564 U. S., at 924. Adding the antecedent step of registration does not change that conclusion. If it did, “every corporation would be subject to general jurisdiction in every state in which it registered, and Daimler’s ruling would be robbed of meaning by a back-door thief.” Brown v. Lockheed Martin Corp., 814 F. 3d 619, 640 (CA2 2016).

II
A

The Court short-circuits this precedent by characterizing this case as one about consent rather than contacts-based jurisdiction. Consent is an established basis for personal jurisdiction, which is, after all, a waivable defense. “A variety of legal arrangements have been taken to represent express or implied consent to the personal jurisdiction of the court,” including contract, stipulation, and in-court appearance. Insurance Corp. of Ireland, 456 U. S., at 703–704. Today, the Court adds corporate registration to the list.

This argument begins on shaky ground, because Pennsylvania itself does not treat registration as synonymous with consent. Section 5301(a)(2)(i) baldly asserts that “qualification as a foreign corporation” in the Commonwealth is a sufficient hook for general jurisdiction. The next subsection (invoked by neither Mallory nor the Court) permits the exercise of general jurisdiction over a corporation based on “[c]onsent, to the extent authorized by the consent.” §5301(a)(2)(ii). If registration were actual consent, one would expect to see some mention of jurisdiction in Norfolk Southern’s registration paperwork—which is instead wholly silent on the matter. App. 1–7. What Mallory calls “consent” is what the Pennsylvania Supreme Court called “compelled submission to general jurisdiction by legislative command.” 266 A. 3d, at 569. Corporate registration triggers a statutory repercussion, but that is not “consent” in a conventional sense of the word.

To pull §5301(a)(2)(i) under the umbrella of consent, the Court, following Mallory, casts it as setting the terms of a bargain: In exchange for access to the Pennsylvania market, a corporation must allow the Commonwealth’s courts to adjudicate any and all claims against it, even those (like Mallory’s) having nothing to do with Pennsylvania. Brief for Petitioner 27–28. Everyone is charged with knowledge of the law, so corporations are on notice of the deal. By registering, they agree to its terms.

While this is a clever theory, it falls apart on inspection. The Court grounds consent in a corporation’s choice to register with knowledge (constructive or actual) of the jurisdictional consequences. Ante, at 10–11, 21 (“proceed[ing] anyway” in light of “the jurisdictional consequences attending these actions”); ante, at 2 (Alito, J., concurring in part and concurring in judgment) (basing “consent” on “presume[d]” knowledge of state law); ante, at 3 (Jackson, J., concurring) (“register[ing] and do[ing] business in Pennsylvania despite the jurisdictional consequences”). But on that logic, any long-arm statute could be said to elicit consent. Imagine a law that simply provides, “any corporation doing business in this State is subject to general jurisdiction in our courts.” Such a law defies our precedent, which, again, holds that “in-state business … does not suffice to permit the assertion of general jurisdiction.” BNSF, 581 U. S., at 414. Yet this hypothetical law, like the Pennsylvania statute, gives notice that general jurisdiction is the price of doing business. And its “notice” is no less “clear” than Pennsylvania’s. Ante, at 5 (opinion of Alito, J.). So on the Court’s reasoning, corporations that choose to do business in the State impliedly consent to general jurisdiction. The result: A State could defeat the Due Process Clause by adopting a law at odds with the Due Process Clause.

That makes no sense. If the hypothetical statute overreaches, then Pennsylvania’s does too. As the United States observes, “[i]nvoking the label ‘consent’ rather than ‘general jurisdiction’ does not render Pennsylvania’s long-arm statute constitutional.” Brief for United States as Amicus Curiae 4. Yet the Court takes this route without so much as acknowledging its circularity.

B

While our due process precedent permits States to place reasonable conditions on foreign corporations in exchange for access to their markets, there is nothing reasonable about a State extracting consent in cases where it has “no connection whatsoever.” 266 A. 3d, at 566; Bristol-Myers, 582 U. S., at 263; see Lafayette Ins. Co. v. French, 18 How. 404, 407 (1856). The Due Process Clause protects more than the rights of defendants—it also protects interstate federalism. We have emphasized this principle in case after case. For instance, in Hanson v. Denckla, we stressed that “restrictions” on personal jurisdiction “are more than a guarantee of immunity from inconvenient or distant litigation. They are a consequence of territorial limitations on the power of the respective States.” 357 U. S., at 250–251. In World-Wide Volkswagen, we explained that “[e]ven if the defendant would suffer minimal or no inconvenience from being forced to litigate before the tribunals of another State … the Due Process Clause, acting as an instrument of interstate federalism, may sometimes act to divest the State of its power to render a valid judgment.” 444 U. S., at 294. And in Bristol-Myers, we reinforced that “this federalism interest may be decisive.” 582 U. S., at 263; see also, e.g., Ford Motor, 592 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 6); Asahi Metal Industry Co. v. Superior Court of Cal., Solano Cty., 480 U. S. 102, 113, 115 (1987); International Shoe, 326 U. S., at 317. A defendant’s ability to waive its objection to personal jurisdiction reflects that the Clause protects, first and foremost, an individual right. But when a State announces a blanket rule that ignores the territorial boundaries on its power, federalism interests are implicated too.

Pennsylvania’s effort to assert general jurisdiction over every company doing business within its borders infringes on the sovereignty of its sister States in a way no less “exorbitant” and “grasping” than attempts we have previously rejected.^[1] Daimler, 571 U. S., at 121–122, 138–139. Conditions on doing in-state business cannot be “inconsistent with those rules of public law which secure the jurisdiction and authority of each State from encroachment by all others.” Lafayette, 18 How., at 407; St. Clair v. Cox, 106 U. S. 350, 356 (1882). Permitting Pennsylvania to impose a blanket claim of authority over controversies with no connection to the Commonwealth intrudes on the prerogatives of other States—domestic and foreign—to adjudicate the rights of their citizens and enforce their own laws. See Ford Motor, 592 U. S., at ___–___ (slip op., at 6–7); Daimler, 571 U. S., at 141–142.

The plurality’s response is to fall back, yet again, on “consent.” Ante, at 21, 23, n. 11. In its view, because a defendant can waive its personal jurisdiction right, a State can never overreach in demanding its relinquishment. Ibid.; see also ante, at 8 (opinion of Alito, J.); ante, at 1–3 (opinion of Jackson, J.). That is not how we treat rights with structural components. The right to remove a case to federal court, for instance, is primarily personal—it secures for a nonresident defendant a federal forum thought to be more impartial. See The Federalist No. 80, p. 478 (C. Rossiter ed. 1961) (A. Hamilton). At the same time, however, it serves federal interests by ensuring that federal courts can vindicate federal rights. See, e.g., Georgia v. Rachel, 384 U. S. 780, 804–805 (1966). Recognizing this dual role, we have rejected efforts of States to require defendants to relinquish this (waivable) right to removal as a condition of doing business. See Home Ins. Co. v. Morse, 20 Wall. 445, 453, 456–458 (1874) (citing Lafayette, 18 How., at 407); Barron v. Burnside, 121 U. S. 186, 196–198 (1887) (“[W]hile the right to remove a suit might be waived,” a statute may not require a foreign corporation “to forfeit [its] rights at all times and on all occasions, whenever the case might be presented”). The same logic applies here. Pennsylvania’s power grab infringes on more than just the rights of defendants—it upsets the proper role of the States in our federal system.

III
A

The plurality attempts to minimize the novelty of its conclusion by pointing to our decision in Burnham v. Superior Court of Cal., County of Marin, 495 U. S. 604 (1990). There, we considered whether “tag jurisdiction”—personal service upon a defendant physically present in the forum State—remains an effective basis for general jurisdiction after International Shoe. Burnham, 495 U. S., at 607 (opinion of Scalia, J.). We unanimously agreed that it does. Id., at 619, 622; id., at 628 (White, J., concurring in part and concurring in judgment); id., at 628–629 (Brennan, J., concurring in judgment); id., at 640 (Stevens, J., concurring in judgment). The plurality claims that registration jurisdiction for a corporation is just as valid as the “tag jurisdiction” that we approved in Burnham. But in drawing this analogy, the plurality omits any discussion of Burnham’s reasoning.

In Burnham, we acknowledged that tag jurisdiction would not satisfy the contacts-based test for general jurisdiction. Nonetheless, we reasoned that tag jurisdiction is “both firmly approved by tradition and still favored,” making it “one of the continuing traditions of our legal system that define[s] the due process standard of ‘traditional notions of fair play and substantial justice.’ ” Id., at 619 (opinion of Scalia, J.) (quoting International Shoe, 326 U. S., at 316); see also 495 U. S., at 635–637 (Brennan, J., concurring in judgment) (a jurisdictional rule that reflects “our common understanding now, fortified by a century of judicial practice, … is entitled to a strong presumption that it comports with due process”). Burnham thus permits a longstanding and still-accepted basis for jurisdiction to pass International Shoe’s test.

General-jurisdiction-by-registration flunks both of these prongs: It is neither “firmly approved by tradition” nor “still favored.” 495 U. S., at 622 (opinion of Scalia, J.). Thus, the plurality’s analogy to tag jurisdiction is superficial at best.

Start with the second prong. In Burnham, “[w]e [did] not know of a single state … that [had] abandoned in-state service as a basis of jurisdiction.” Id., at 615. Here, as Mallory concedes, Pennsylvania is the only State with a statute treating registration as sufficient for general jurisdiction. Tr. of Oral Arg. 47. Indeed, quite a few have jettisoned the jurisdictional consequences of corporate registration altogether—and in no uncertain terms. See, e.g., Chavez v. Bridgestone Americas Tire Operations, LLC, 2022–NMSC–006, ¶¶1, 53–54, 503 P. 3d 332, 336, 349 (“Reliance upon outdated legal fictions … would be absurd and, as explained above, inconsistent with contemporary understandings of due process”); Genuine Parts Co. v. Cepec, 137 A. 3d 123, 137 (Del. 2016) (“[W]e no longer live in a time where foreign corporations cannot operate in other states unless they somehow become a resident”); see also DeLeon v. BNSF R. Co., 392 Mont. 446, 453, n. 1, 426 P. 3d 1, 7, n. 1 (2018) (listing States with statutes that do not permit the practice).^[2] With the Pennsylvania Legislature standing alone, the plurality does not even attempt to describe this method of securing general jurisdiction as “still favored,” Burnham, 495 U. S., at 622 (opinion of Scalia, J.), or reflective of “our common understanding now,” id., at 635–637 (Brennan, J., concurring in judgment) (emphasis deleted). Quite the opposite: The plurality denigrates “the spirit of our age”—reflected by the vast majority of States—and appeals to its own notions of fairness. Ante, at 17–20.

The past is as fatal to the plurality’s theory as the present. Burnham’s tradition prong asks whether a method for securing jurisdiction was “shared by American courts at the crucial time”—“1868, when the Fourteenth Amendment was adopted.” 495 U. S., at 611 (opinion of Scalia, J.). But the plurality cannot identify a single case from that period supporting its theory.^[3] In fact, the evidence runs in the opposite direction. Statutes that required the appointment of a registered agent for service of process were far more modest than Pennsylvania’s.^[4] And even when a statute was written more broadly, state courts generally understood it to implicitly limit jurisdiction to suits with a connection to the forum. The state reporters are replete with examples of judicial decisions that stood by the then-prevailing rule: Compliance with a registration law did not subject a foreign corporation to suit on any cause in a State, but only those related to the forum. Smith v. Mutual Life Ins. Co. of N. Y., 96 Mass. 336, 340–343 (1867); see also, e.g., Camden Rolling Mill v. Swede Iron Co., 32 N. J. L. 15, 18 (1866) (rejecting a statutory construction that would “place within the jurisdiction of our courts, all the corporations of the world”); Newell v. Great W. R. Co. of Canada, 19 Mich. 336, 345–346 (1869) (legislature “could never have intended … to make our tribunals, maintained by the people of Michigan, the arbiters of differences in which our citizens have no interest”); Sawyer v. North Am. Life Ins. Co., 46 Vt. 697, 707 (1874) (broadly worded statute did not reach a corporate “party not a resident, on a cause of action which did not accrue here”); Central R. & Banking Co. v. Carr, 76 Ala. 388, 393 (1884) (collecting cases).^[5] Our cases from this era articulate the same line. See, e.g., Lafayette, 18 How., at 407 (statutory consent to suit may reach “contracts made and to be performed within that State”); St. Clair, 106 U. S., at 356–357 (statutory consent permitted for suits “arising out of [a foreign corporation’s] transactions in the State”); Old Wayne Mut. Life Assn. of Indianapolis v. McDonough, 204 U. S. 8, 21 (1907) (“[I]t cannot be held that the company agreed that service of process … would alone be sufficient to bring it into court in respect of all business transacted by it, no matter where”); Simon v. Southern R. Co., 236 U. S. 115, 130 (1915) (“statutory consent of a foreign corporation to be sued does not extend to causes of action arising in other states”). Although “plaintiffs typically did not sue defendants in fora that had no rational relation to causes of action,” Genuine Parts, 137 A. 3d, at 146, courts repeatedly turned them away when they did.

B

Sidestepping Burnham’s logic, the plurality seizes on its bottom-line approval of tag jurisdiction. According to the plurality, tag jurisdiction (based on physical presence) and registration jurisdiction (based on deemed consent) are essentially the same thing—so by blessing one, Burnham blessed the other. See ante, at 1–2, 16. The plurality never explains why they are the same, even though—as we have just discussed—more than a century’s worth of law treats them as distinct. See also Burnham, 495 U. S., at 610, n. 1 (opinion of Scalia, J.) (corporations “have never fi[t] comfortably in a jurisdictional regime based primarily upon ‘de facto power over the defendant’s person’ ”); International Shoe, 326 U. S., at 316–317. The plurality’s rationale seems to be that if a person is subject to general jurisdiction anywhere she is present, then a corporation should be subject to general jurisdiction anywhere it does business. See ante, at 1–2, 5–6, 9–10, 16, 22. That is not only a non sequitur—it is “contrary to the historical rationale of International Shoe.” Wenche Siemer v. Learjet Acquisition Corp., 966 F. 2d 179, 183 (CA5 1992).

Before International Shoe, a state court’s power over a person turned strictly on “service of process within the State” (presence) “or [her] voluntary appearance” (consent). Pennoyer v. Neff, 95 U. S. 714, 733 (1878). In response to changes in interstate business and transportation in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, States deployed new legal fictions designed to secure the presence or consent of nonresident individuals and foreign corporations. For example, state laws required nonresident drivers to give their “implied consent” to be sued for their in-state accidents as a condition of using the road. Hess v. Pawloski, 274 U. S. 352, 356 (1927); World-Wide Volkswagen, 444 U. S., at 296, n. 11. And foreign corporations, as we have discussed, were required by statute to “consent” to the appointment of a resident agent, so that the company could then be constructively “present” for in-state service. Mutual Reserve Fund Life Assn. v. Phelps, 190 U. S. 147, 158–159 (1903); see St. Clair, 106 U. S., at 356.

As Justice Scalia explained, such extensions of “consent and presence were purely fictional” and can no longer stand after International Shoe. Burnham, 495 U. S., at 618; see also, e.g., Shaffer v. Heitner, 433 U. S. 186, 202–203 (1977) (International Shoe abandoned “both the fictions of implied consent to service on the part of a foreign corporation and of corporate presence”); McGee v. International Life Ins. Co., 355 U. S. 220, 222 (1957) (International Shoe “abandoned ‘consent,’ ‘doing business,’ and ‘presence’ as the standard for measuring the extent of state judicial power over [foreign] corporations”); International Shoe, 326 U. S., at 318. The very point of International Shoe was to “cast … aside” the legal fictions built on the old territorial approach to personal jurisdiction and replace them with its contacts-based test. Burnham, 495 U. S., at 618 (opinion of Scalia, J.); id., at 630 (Brennan, J., concurring in judgment) (International Shoe abandoned the previous “ ‘patchwork of legal and factual fictions’ ”). In Burnham, we upheld tag jurisdiction because it is not one of those fictions—it is presence. By contrast, Pennsylvania’s registration statute is based on deemed consent. And this kind of legally implied consent is one of the very fictions that our decision in International Shoe swept away. See 326 U. S., at 318; Ford Motor, 592 U. S., at ___ (Gorsuch, J., concurring in judgment) (slip op., at 8).

C

Neither Justice Alito nor the plurality seriously contests this history. Nor does either deny that Mallory’s theory would gut Daimler. Instead, they insist that we already decided this question in a pre-International Shoe precedent: Pennsylvania Fire Ins. Co. of Philadelphia v. Gold Issue Mining & Milling Co., 243 U. S. 93 (1917).

In Pennsylvania Fire, an Arizona corporation sued a Pennsylvania corporation in Missouri for a claim arising from an insurance contract issued in Colorado and protecting property in Colorado. Id., at 94. The defendant maintained that the Missouri court lacked personal jurisdiction over it because the plaintiff’s claim had no connection to the forum. Id., at 94–95. But in compliance with Missouri law, the defendant company had previously filed “a power of attorney consenting that service of process upon the superintendent [of the State’s insurance department] should be deemed personal service upon the company.” Id., at 94. The Missouri Supreme Court construed that power of attorney as express consent to personal jurisdiction in Missouri in any case whatsoever, and this Court held that “the construction did not deprive the defendant of due process of law.” Id., at 95.^[6]

The Court asserts that Pennsylvania Fire controls our decision today. I disagree. The case was “decided before this Court’s transformative decision on personal jurisdiction in International Shoe,” BNSF, 581 U. S., at 412, and we have already stated that “prior decisions [that] are inconsistent with this standard … are overruled,” Shaffer, 433 U. S., at 212, n. 39. Pennsylvania Fire fits that bill. Time and again, we have reinforced that “ ‘doing business’ tests”—like those “framed before specific jurisdiction evolved in the United States”—are not a valid basis for general jurisdiction. Daimler, 571 U. S., at 140, n. 20. The only innovation of Pennsylvania’s statute is to make “doing business” synonymous with “consent.” If Pennsylvania Fire endorses that trick, then Pennsylvania Fire is no longer good law.

The plurality tries to get around International Shoe by claiming that it did no more than expand jurisdiction, affecting nothing that came before it.^[7] Ante, at 14–15. That is as fictional as the old concept of “corporate presence” on which the plurality relies. We have previously abandoned even “ancient” bases of jurisdiction for incompatibility with International Shoe. Shaffer, 433 U. S., at 211–212 (repudiating quasi in rem jurisdiction). And we have repeatedly reminded litigants not to put much stock in our pre-International Shoe decisions. Shaffer, 433 U. S., at 212, n. 39; see also BNSF, 581 U. S., at 412. Daimler itself reinforces that pre-International Shoe decisions “should not attract heavy reliance today.” 571 U. S., at 138, n. 18. Over and over, we have reminded litigants that International Shoe is “canonical,” “seminal,” “pathmarking,” and even “momentous”—to give just a few examples. Ford Motor, 592 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 4); Bristol-Myers, 582 U. S., at 262; Daimler, 571 U. S., at 128; Goodyear, 564 U. S., at 919. Yet the Court acts as if none of this ever happened.

In any event, I doubt Pennsylvania Fire would control this case even if it remained valid. Pennsylvania Fire distinguished between express consent (that is, consent “actually … conferred by [the] document”) and deemed consent (inferred from doing business). 243 U. S., at 95–96; see also Neirbo Co. v. Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corp., 308 U. S. 165, 175 (1939) (basing jurisdiction on “finding an actual consent” (emphasis added)). As Judge Learned Hand emphasized in a decision invoked by the plurality, without “express consent,” the normal rules apply. Smolik v. Philadelphia & Reading Coal & Iron Co., 222 F. 148, 150–151 (SDNY 1915).

The express power of attorney in Pennsylvania Fire “made service on the [insurance] superintendent the equivalent of … a corporate vote [that] had accepted service in this specific case.” 243 U. S., at 95. Norfolk Southern, by contrast, “executed no document like the power of attorney there.” Brief for Respondent 31; see App. 1–7. The Court makes much of what Norfolk Southern did write on its forms, ante, at 11: It named a “Commercial Registered Office Provider,” App. 1, 6, it notified Pennsylvania of a merger, id., at 3–5, and it paid $70 to update its paperwork, id., at 6. None of those documents use the word “agent,” nothing hints at the word “jurisdiction,” and (as the Pennsylvania Supreme Court explained) nothing about that registration is “voluntary.” 266 A. 3d, at 570, and n. 20.^[8] Consent in Pennsylvania Fire was contained in the document itself; here it is deemed by statute. If “mere formalities” matter as much as the plurality says they do, it should respect this one too. Ante, at 22.

IV

By now, it should be clear that the plurality’s primary approach to this case is to look past our personal jurisdiction precedent. Relying on a factsheet downloaded from the internet, for instance, the plurality argues that Norfolk Southern is such a “part of ‘the Pennsylvania Community,’ ” and does so much business there, that its “presence” in Pennsylvania is enough to require it to stand for suits having nothing to do with the Commonwealth. Ante, at 17–20; see also ante, at 4–5 (opinion of Alito, J.).^[9] In Daimler, however, we roundly rejected the plaintiff’s request that we “approve the exercise of general jurisdiction in every State in which a corporation ‘engages in a substantial, continuous, and systematic course of business.’ ” 571 U. S., at 138. The established test—which the plurality barely acknowledges—is whether the corporation is “at home” in the State. “A corporation that operates in many places,” and must therefore register in just as many, “can scarcely be deemed at home in all of them.” Id., at 140, n. 20. *** Critics of Daimler and Goodyear may be happy to see them go. See, e.g., Ford Motor, 592 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 1) (Alito, J., concurring in judgment); id., at ___–___ (slip op., at 8–9) (Gorsuch, J., joined by Thomas, J., concurring in judgment); BNSF, 581 U. S., at 416 (Sotomayor, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part). And make no mistake: They are halfway out the door. If States take up the Court’s invitation to manipulate registration, Daimler and Goodyear will be obsolete, and, at least for corporations, specific jurisdiction will be “superfluous.” Daimler, 571 U. S., at 140; see Goodyear, 564 U. S., at 925. Because I would not work this sea change, I respectfully dissent.

↑ This case provides a “textbook example” of overreach at the expense of other States. 266 A. 3d 542, 567 (Pa. 2021). Virginia has considerable connections to Mallory’s suit: Mallory lives in Virginia, Norfolk Southern is a Virginia corporation, Mallory’s injuries arose—at least in part—from his employment in Virginia, and he was diagnosed with cancer there. See ante, at 2–3; Tr. of Oral Arg. 39. Pennsylvania, by contrast, “has no legitimate interest in a controversy with no connection to the Commonwealth that was filed by a non-resident against a foreign corporation.” 266 A. 3d, at 567.
↑ The plurality offers only one other State that (through its Supreme Court) has treated foreign corporate registration as adequate support for general jurisdiction following Daimler and Goodyear. See Cooper Tire & Rubber Co. v. McCall, 312 Ga. 422, 436–437, 863 S. E. 2d 81, 92 (2021). There, a judicial precedent, not a long-arm statute, maintained that registration justified general jurisdiction. Applying the consent theory, the Georgia Supreme Court held that corporations that choose to do business in the State are on notice of the jurisdictional consequences of its case law. Id., at 434, 863 S. E. 2d, at 90.
↑ The plurality argues that the uniform practice of state courts at the time of ratification is inapposite because no state court held that general-jurisdiction-by-registration violates the Fourteenth Amendment. Ante, at 7, n. 4. This approach reflects a misunderstanding of Burnham. The inquiry is not whether courts rejected a process for obtaining jurisdiction as unconstitutional. It is whether courts actually used—and continue to use—the challenged process. 495 U. S., at 622 (opinion of Scalia, J.); see also Hurtado v. California, 110 U. S. 516, 528 (1884) (“[A] process of law … must be taken to be due process of law” if it “has been immemorially the actual law of the land”). Registration jurisdiction falls short on both fronts.
↑ Many States expressly limited their statutes to disputes with a connection to the State. See, e.g., Ind. Code §25–2 (1852) (foreign corporations must consent to actions “arising out of any transaction in this State”), App. to Brief for Petitioner 47a; Conn. Gen. Stat. §7–389 (1866) (foreign insurance companies must appoint an in-state agent to accept process “in all suits before any court in this state, for any liability incurred by such company or association in this state”), App. to Brief for Petitioner 18a; Md. Code Ann. §26–211 (1868) (foreign corporation may be sued by nonresident “when the cause of action has arisen, or the subject of the action shall be situate[d] in this state”), App. to Brief for Petitioner 90a; S. C. Code Ann. §13–1–422(2) (1873) (nonresident may sue a foreign corporation “when the cause of action shall have arisen, or the subject of the action shall be situated, within this State”), App. to Brief for Petitioner 227a.
↑ Mallory cannot find an example of an exercise of registration jurisdiction without a forum connection until 1882. See Johnston v. Trade Ins. Co., 132 Mass. 432, 434–435. But even that example ignores Massachusetts’s rejection of registration jurisdiction for cases with no connection to the forum in 1867—the year it ratified the Fourteenth Amendment. See Smith, 96 Mass., at 340–343.
↑ The plurality praises the Missouri Supreme Court’s “carefu[l]” and “thoughtful opinion.” Ante, at 9–10. Only a decade later, however, the same court unanimously concluded that it had misinterpreted the reach of the statute and overruled this aggressive approach. State ex rel. Am. Central Life Ins. Co. v. Landwehr, 318 Mo. 181, 190–192, 300 S. W. 294, 297–298 (1927) (requiring a connection to Missouri); State ex rel. Phoenix Mut. Life Ins. Co. of Hartford v. Harris, 343 Mo. 252, 258–260, 121 S. W. 2d 141, 145–146 (1938). This remains the rule in Missouri today: Compliance with its registration statute does not constitute consent to general jurisdiction. State ex rel. Norfolk Southern R. Co. v. Dolan, 512 S. W. 3d 41, 52–53, and n. 11 (Mo. 2017).
↑ While International Shoe expanded the bases for specific jurisdiction, it did no such thing for general jurisdiction. On the contrary, International Shoe itself recognized that general jurisdiction for a corporation exists in its “ ‘home’ or principal place of business.” 326 U. S. 310, 317 (1945). That line has remained constant.
↑ I agree with the Court that no “magic words” are necessary to establish valid consent. Ante, at 12–13, n. 5. But when the statutory scheme itself distinguishes between actual “consent” and registration, §§5301(a)(2)(i), (ii), and when the Pennsylvania Supreme Court sees a difference between the two, it is quite a stretch to treat them as one and the same.
↑ Mallory, by contrast, chooses to rest his case for jurisdiction on registration and registration alone. Tr. of Oral Arg. 49 (“We’re relying on consent and consent alone. Without consent, we don’t prevail”). Apparently dissatisfied with this concession, the plurality finds its own facts and develops its own argument. That is not how we usually do things. See United States v. Sineneng-Smith, 590 U. S. ___, ___–___ (2020) (slip op., at 3–4).

[1] This case provides a “textbook example” of overreach at the expense of other States. 266 A. 3d 542, 567 (Pa. 2021). Virginia has considerable connections to Mallory’s suit: Mallory lives in Virginia, Norfolk Southern is a Virginia corporation, Mallory’s injuries arose—at least in part—from his employment in Virginia, and he was diagnosed with cancer there. See ante, at 2–3; Tr. of Oral Arg. 39. Pennsylvania, by contrast, “has no legitimate interest in a controversy with no connection to the Commonwealth that was filed by a non-resident against a foreign corporation.” 266 A. 3d, at 567.

[2] The plurality offers only one other State that (through its Supreme Court) has treated foreign corporate registration as adequate support for general jurisdiction following Daimler and Goodyear. See Cooper Tire & Rubber Co. v. McCall, 312 Ga. 422, 436–437, 863 S. E. 2d 81, 92 (2021). There, a judicial precedent, not a long-arm statute, maintained that registration justified general jurisdiction. Applying the consent theory, the Georgia Supreme Court held that corporations that choose to do business in the State are on notice of the jurisdictional consequences of its case law. Id., at 434, 863 S. E. 2d, at 90.

[3] The plurality argues that the uniform practice of state courts at the time of ratification is inapposite because no state court held that general-jurisdiction-by-registration violates the Fourteenth Amendment. Ante, at 7, n. 4. This approach reflects a misunderstanding of Burnham. The inquiry is not whether courts rejected a process for obtaining jurisdiction as unconstitutional. It is whether courts actually used—and continue to use—the challenged process. 495 U. S., at 622 (opinion of Scalia, J.); see also Hurtado v. California, 110 U. S. 516, 528 (1884) (“[A] process of law … must be taken to be due process of law” if it “has been immemorially the actual law of the land”). Registration jurisdiction falls short on both fronts.

[4] Many States expressly limited their statutes to disputes with a connection to the State. See, e.g., Ind. Code §25–2 (1852) (foreign corporations must consent to actions “arising out of any transaction in this State”), App. to Brief for Petitioner 47a; Conn. Gen. Stat. §7–389 (1866) (foreign insurance companies must appoint an in-state agent to accept process “in all suits before any court in this state, for any liability incurred by such company or association in this state”), App. to Brief for Petitioner 18a; Md. Code Ann. §26–211 (1868) (foreign corporation may be sued by nonresident “when the cause of action has arisen, or the subject of the action shall be situate[d] in this state”), App. to Brief for Petitioner 90a; S. C. Code Ann. §13–1–422(2) (1873) (nonresident may sue a foreign corporation “when the cause of action shall have arisen, or the subject of the action shall be situated, within this State”), App. to Brief for Petitioner 227a.

[5] Mallory cannot find an example of an exercise of registration jurisdiction without a forum connection until 1882. See Johnston v. Trade Ins. Co., 132 Mass. 432, 434–435. But even that example ignores Massachusetts’s rejection of registration jurisdiction for cases with no connection to the forum in 1867—the year it ratified the Fourteenth Amendment. See Smith, 96 Mass., at 340–343.

[6] The plurality praises the Missouri Supreme Court’s “carefu[l]” and “thoughtful opinion.” Ante, at 9–10. Only a decade later, however, the same court unanimously concluded that it had misinterpreted the reach of the statute and overruled this aggressive approach. State ex rel. Am. Central Life Ins. Co. v. Landwehr, 318 Mo. 181, 190–192, 300 S. W. 294, 297–298 (1927) (requiring a connection to Missouri); State ex rel. Phoenix Mut. Life Ins. Co. of Hartford v. Harris, 343 Mo. 252, 258–260, 121 S. W. 2d 141, 145–146 (1938). This remains the rule in Missouri today: Compliance with its registration statute does not constitute consent to general jurisdiction. State ex rel. Norfolk Southern R. Co. v. Dolan, 512 S. W. 3d 41, 52–53, and n. 11 (Mo. 2017).

[7] While International Shoe expanded the bases for specific jurisdiction, it did no such thing for general jurisdiction. On the contrary, International Shoe itself recognized that general jurisdiction for a corporation exists in its “ ‘home’ or principal place of business.” 326 U. S. 310, 317 (1945). That line has remained constant.

[8] I agree with the Court that no “magic words” are necessary to establish valid consent. Ante, at 12–13, n. 5. But when the statutory scheme itself distinguishes between actual “consent” and registration, §§5301(a)(2)(i), (ii), and when the Pennsylvania Supreme Court sees a difference between the two, it is quite a stretch to treat them as one and the same.

[9] Mallory, by contrast, chooses to rest his case for jurisdiction on registration and registration alone. Tr. of Oral Arg. 49 (“We’re relying on consent and consent alone. Without consent, we don’t prevail”). Apparently dissatisfied with this concession, the plurality finds its own facts and develops its own argument. That is not how we usually do things. See United States v. Sineneng-Smith, 590 U. S. ___, ___–___ (2020) (slip op., at 3–4).

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