The reversal of Roe required the remaking of a growing conservative legal movement, one that had expanded considerably since the founding of the Federalist Society in 1982. From the standpoint of the anti-abortion movement, the conservative legal movement had been an unreliable ally in the 1980s and early 1990s. Many in the Federalist Society had been uncomfortable with the anti-abortion movement, disagreeing about the value of a right to choose or worrying that abortion opponents would tarnish the image of an emerging conservative legal elite.
Robert Bork, whose 1987 Supreme Court confirmation went down in flames, helped to change that. Bork had been a prominent critic of Roe, and after the Senate voted down his nomination, the conservative legal movement became more comfortable defining Roe as the ultimate symbol of judicial activism. As the conservative legal movement became more powerful, the country got closer to the elimination of abortion rights.
But in 1992, the Planned Parenthood v. Casey decision solidified a growing realization among anti-abortion groups that it would not be enough to build influence in the conservative legal movement. Even with six justices nominated by Republicans, the court declined the invitation to reverse Roe, explaining that doing so would irrevocably damage its legitimacy. So anti-abortion groups set out to ensure that different kinds of justices would sit on the court — justices who would be ideologically consistent and indifferent to popular opinion.
Clarence Thomas, who joined the court the year before the Casey decision, stood out as a model for this new kind of justice. George H.W. Bush, the president who nominated Justice Thomas, was hardly a hero to abortion opponents; early in his career, he was a vocal supporter of family planning, and even as president, he was never fully comfortable with nationwide criminalization. Justice Thomas was a different story: Anti-abortion leaders were impressed by his response to the sexual harassment accusations raised by Anita Hill. He seemed like the kind of judge who would stick to his principles no matter what the American people thought of him, and who even delighted in the hatred of his opponents on the bench and in Congress. That was the kind of justice who would put an end to Roe.
After Casey, some anti-abortion groups expanded their focus: To gain even more control over Supreme Court nominations, they sought to overhaul the Republican Party and the rules of campaign spending. Anti-abortion lawyers waged war on campaign finance limits, which they believed hamstrung social conservatives, disempowered small-dollar donors and violated the First Amendment. They joined other groups working to unleash a torrent of spending from nonparty outside groups, fought for donor anonymity and played an instrumental role in the Supreme Court’s decision in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, which struck down certain limits on corporate election expenditures.
With new money and influence in the G.O.P., anti-abortion groups were able to do something new: weaken the traditional leadership of the Republican Party, which had not made the fight against Roe as much a priority as business-friendly attacks on regulations and taxes.