NOTE: Where it is feasible, a syllabus (headnote) will be released, as is being done in connection with this case, at the time the opinion is issued. The syllabus constitutes no part of the opinion of the Court but has been prepared by the Reporter of Decisions for the convenience of the reader. See United States v. Detroit Timber & Lumber Co., 200 U.S. 321, 337.

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES

Syllabus

Facebook, Inc. v. Duguid et al.

certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the ninth circuit

No. 19–511. Argued December 8, 2020—Decided April 1, 2021

The Telephone Consumer Protection Act of 1991 (TCPA) proscribes abusive telemarketing practices by, among other things, restricting certain communications made with an “automatic telephone dialing system.” The TCPA defines such “autodialers” as equipment with the capacity both “to store or produce telephone numbers to be called, using a random or sequential number generator,” and to dial those numbers. 47 U. S. C. §227(a)(1). Petitioner Facebook, Inc., maintains a social media platform that, as a security feature, allows users to elect to receive text messages when someone attempts to log in to the user’s account from a new device or browser. Facebook sent such texts to Noah Duguid, alerting him to login activity on a Facebook account linked to his telephone number, but Duguid never created that account (or any account on Facebook). Duguid tried without success to stop the unwanted messages, and eventually brought a putative class action against Facebook. He alleged that Facebook violated the TCPA by maintaining a database that stored phone numbers and programming its equipment to send automated text messages. Facebook countered that the TCPA does not apply because the technology it used to text Duguid did not use a “random or sequential number generator.” The Ninth Circuit disagreed, holding that §227(a)(1) applies to a notification system like Facebook’s that has the capacity to dial automatically stored numbers.

Held: To qualify as an “automatic telephone dialing system” under the TCPA, a device must have the capacity either to store a telephone number using a random or sequential number generator, or to produce a telephone number using a random or sequential number generator. Pp. 4–12.

(a) This case turns on whether the clause “using a random or sequential number generator” in §227(a)(1)(A) modifies both of the two verbs that precede it (“store” and “produce”), as Facebook contends, or only the closest one (“produce”), as maintained by Duguid. The most natural reading of the text and other aspects of §227(a)(1)(A) confirm Facebook’s view. First, in an ordinary case, the “series-qualifier canon” instructs that a modifier at the end of a series of nouns or verbs applies to the entire series. Here, that canon indicates that the modifying phrase “using a random or sequential number generator” qualifies both antecedent verbs, “store” and “produce.” Second, the modifying phrase immediately follows a concise, integrated clause (“store or produce telephone numbers to be called”), which uses the word “or” to connect two verbs that share a common direct object (“telephone numbers to be called”). Given this structure, it would be odd to apply the modifier to just one part of the cohesive clause. Third, the comma in §227(a)(1)(A) separating the modifying phrase from the antecedents suggests that the qualifier applies to all of the antecedents, instead of just the nearest one. Pp. 4–6.

Duguid’s insistence that a limiting clause should ordinarily be read as modifying only the phrase that it immediately follows (the so-called “rule of the last antecedent”) does not help his cause for two reasons. First, the Court has declined to apply that rule in the specific context where, as here, the modifying clause appears after an integrated list. Jama v. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, 543 U.S. 335, 344, n. 4. Second, the last antecedent before the clause at issue in §227(a)(1)(A) is not “produce,” as Duguid argues, but rather “telephone numbers to be called.” Pp. 6–7.

(b) The statutory context confirms that the TCPA’s autodialer definition excludes equipment that does not use a random or sequential number generator. Congress found autodialer technology harmful because autodialers can dial emergency lines randomly or tie up all of the sequentially numbered phone lines at a single entity. Facebook’s interpretation of §227(a)(1)(A) better matches the scope of the TCPA to these specific concerns. Duguid’s interpretation, on the other hand, would encompass any equipment that stores and dials telephone numbers. Pp. 7–8.

(c)  Duguid’s other counterarguments do not overcome the clear commands of the statute’s text and broader context. First, he claims that his interpretation best accords with the “sense” of the text. It would make little sense however, to classify as autodialers all equipment with the capacity to store and dial telephone numbers, including virtually all modern cell phones. Second, Duguid invokes the “distributive canon,” which provides that a series of antecedents and consequents should be distributed to one another based on how they most naturally relate in context. But that canon is less suited here because there is only one consequent to match to two antecedents, and in any event, the modifying phrase naturally relates to both antecedents. Third, Duguid broadly construes the TCPA’s privacy-protection goals. But despite Congress’ general concern about intrusive telemarketing practices, Congress ultimately chose a precise autodialer definition. Finally, Duguid argues that a random or sequential number generator is a “senescent technology,” i.e., one likely to become outdated quickly. That may or may not be the case, but either way, this Court cannot rewrite the TCPA to update it for modern technology. Congress’ chosen definition of an autodialer requires that the equipment in question must use a random or sequential number generator. That definition excludes equipment like Facebook’s login notification system, which does not use such technology. Pp. 8–11.

926 F.3d 1146, reversed and remanded.

Sotomayor, J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which Roberts, C. J., and Thomas, Breyer, Kagan, Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett, JJ., joined. Alito, J., filed an opinion concurring in the judgment.

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES

_________________

No. 19–511

_________________

FACEBOOK, INC., PETITIONER v. NOAH DUGUID, et al.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the ninth circuit

[April 1, 2021]

Justice Sotomayor delivered the opinion of the Court.

The Telephone Consumer Protection Act of 1991 (TCPA) proscribes abusive telemarketing practices by, among other things, imposing restrictions on making calls with an “automatic telephone dialing system.” As defined by the TCPA, an “automatic telephone dialing system” is a piece of equipment with the capacity both “to store or produce telephone numbers to be called, using a random or sequential number generator,” and to dial those numbers. 47 U. S. C. §227(a)(1). The question before the Court is whether that definition encompasses equipment that can “store” and dial telephone numbers, even if the device does not “us[e] a random or sequential number generator.” It does not. To qualify as an “automatic telephone dialing system,” a device must have the capacity either to store a telephone number using a random or sequential generator or to produce a telephone number using a random or sequential number generator.

I

A

In 1991, Congress passed the TCPA to address “the proliferation of intrusive, nuisance calls” to consumers and businesses from telemarketers. §2, ¶¶1, 6, 105Stat. 2394, note following 47 U. S. C. §227. Advances in automated technology made it feasible for companies to execute large-scale telemarketing campaigns at a fraction of the prior cost, dramatically increasing customer contacts. Infamously, the development of “robocall” technology allowed companies to make calls using artificial or prerecorded voices, obviating the need for live human callers altogether.

This case concerns “automatic telephone dialing systems” (hereinafter autodialers), which revolutionized telemarketing by allowing companies to dial random or sequential blocks of telephone numbers automatically. Congress found autodialer technology to be uniquely harmful. It threatened public safety by “seizing the telephone lines of public emergency services, dangerously preventing those lines from being utilized to receive calls from those needing emergency services.” H. R. Rep. No. 102–317, p. 24 (1991). Indeed, due to the sequential manner in which they could generate numbers, autodialers could simultaneously tie up all the lines of any business with sequentially numbered phone lines. Nor were individual consumers spared: Autodialers could reach cell phones, pagers, and unlisted numbers, inconveniencing consumers and imposing unwanted fees.[1] Ibid.

Against this technological backdrop, Congress made it unlawful to make certain calls “using any automatic telephone dialing system” to “emergency telephone line[s],” to “guest room[s] or patient room[s] of a hospital,” or “to any telephone number assigned to a paging service [or] cellular telephone service” without the “prior express consent of the called party.” 47 U. S. C. §227(b)(1)(A).[2] The TCPA creates a private right of action for persons to sue to enjoin unlawful uses of autodialers and to recover up to $1,500 per violation or three times the plaintiffs’ actual monetary losses. §227(b)(3).

B

Petitioner Facebook, Inc., maintains a social media platform with an optional security feature that sends users “login notification” text messages when an attempt is made to access their Facebook account from an unknown device or browser. If necessary, the user can then log into Facebook and take action to secure the account. To opt in to this service, the user must provide and verify a cell phone number to which Facebook can send messages.

In 2014, respondent Noah Duguid received several login-notification text messages from Facebook, alerting him that someone had attempted to access the Facebook account associated with his phone number from an unknown browser. But Duguid has never had a Facebook account and never gave Facebook his phone number.[3] Unable to stop the notifications, Duguid brought a putative class action against Facebook. He alleged that Facebook violated the TCPA by maintaining a database that stored phone numbers and programming its equipment to send automated text messages to those numbers each time the associated account was accessed by an unrecognized device or web browser.

Facebook moved to dismiss the suit, arguing primarily that Duguid failed to allege that Facebook used an autodialer because he did not claim Facebook sent text messages to numbers that were randomly or sequentially generated. Rather, Facebook argued, Duguid alleged that Facebook sent targeted, individualized texts to numbers linked to specific accounts. The U. S. District Court for the Northern District of California agreed and dismissed Duguid’s amended complaint with prejudice. 2017 WL 635117, *4–*5 (Feb. 16, 2017).

The United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit reversed. As relevant here, the Ninth Circuit held that Duguid had stated a claim under the TCPA by alleging that Facebook’s notification system automatically dialed stored numbers. An autodialer, the Court of Appeals held, need not be able to use a random or sequential generator to store numbers; it need only have the capacity to “ ‘store numbers to be called’ ” and “ ‘to dial such numbers automatically.’ ” 926 F.3d 1146, 1151 (2019) (quoting Marks v. Crunch San Diego, LLC, 904 F.3d 1041, 1053 (CA9 2018)).

We granted certiorari to resolve a conflict among the Courts of Appeals regarding whether an autodialer must have the capacity to generate random or sequential phone numbers.[4] 591 U. S. ___ (2020). We now reverse the Ninth Circuit’s judgment.

II

Section 227(a)(1) defines an autodialer as:

“equipment which has the capacity—

“(A) to store or produce telephone numbers to be called, using a random or sequential number generator; and

“(B) to dial such numbers.”

Facebook argues the clause “using a random or sequential number generator” modifies both verbs that precede it (“store” and “produce”), while Duguid contends it modifies only the closest one (“produce”). We conclude that the clause modifies both, specifying how the equipment must either “store” or “produce” telephone numbers. Because Facebook’s notification system neither stores nor produces numbers “using a random or sequential number generator,” it is not an autodialer.

A

We begin with the text. Congress defined an autodialer in terms of what it must do (“store or produce telephone numbers to be called”) and how it must do it (“using a random or sequential number generator”). The definition uses a familiar structure: a list of verbs followed by a modifying clause. Under conventional rules of grammar, “[w]hen there is a straightforward, parallel construction that involves all nouns or verbs in a series,” a modifier at the end of the list “normally applies to the entire series.” A. Scalia & B. Garner, Reading Law: The Interpretation of Legal Texts 147 (2012) (Scalia & Garner) (quotation modified). The Court often applies this interpretative rule, usually referred to as the “series-qualifier canon.” See Paroline v. United States, 572 U.S. 434, 447 (2014) (citing Porto Rico Railway, Light & Power Co. v. Mor, 253 U.S. 345, 348 (1920)); see also United States v. Bass, 404 U.S. 336, 339–340 (1971). This canon generally reflects the most natural reading of a sentence. Imagine if a teacher announced that “students must not complete or check any homework to be turned in for a grade, using online homework-help websites.” It would be strange to read that rule as prohibiting students from completing homework altogether, with or without online support.

Here, the series-qualifier canon recommends qualifying both antecedent verbs, “store” and “produce,” with the phrase “using a random or sequential number generator.” That recommendation produces the most natural construction, as confirmed by other aspects of §227(a)(1)(A)’s text.

To begin, the modifier at issue immediately follows a concise, integrated clause: “store or produce telephone numbers to be called.” See Cyan, Inc. v. Beaver County Employees Retirement Fund, 583 U. S. ___, ___–___ (2018) (slip op., at 21–22). The clause “hangs together as a unified whole,” id., at ___ (slip op., at 21), using the word “or” to connect two verbs that share a common direct object, “telephone numbers to be called.” It would be odd to apply the modifier (“using a random or sequential number generator”) to only a portion of this cohesive preceding clause.

This interpretation of §227(a)(1)(A) also “heed[s] the commands of its punctuation.” United States Nat. Bank of Ore. v. Independent Ins. Agents of America, Inc., 508 U.S. 439, 454 (1993). Recall that the phrase “using a random or sequential number generator” follows a comma placed after the phrase “store or produce telephone numbers to be called.” As several leading treatises explain, “ ‘[a] qualifying phrase separated from antecedents by a comma is evidence that the qualifier is supposed to apply to all the antecedents instead of only to the immediately preceding one.’ ” W. Eskridge, Interpreting Law: A Primer on How To Read Statutes and the Constitution 67–68 (2016); see also 2A N. Singer & S. Singer, Sutherland Statutes and Statutory Construction §47:33, pp. 499–500 (rev. 7th ed. 2014); Scalia & Garner 161–162. The comma in §227(a)(1)(A) thus further suggests that Congress intended the phrase “using a random or sequential number generator” to apply equally to both preceding elements.

Contrary to Duguid’s view, this interpretation does not conflict with the so-called “rule of the last antecedent.” Under that rule, “a limiting clause or phrase . . . should ordinarily be read as modifying only the noun or phrase that it immediately follows.” Barnhart v. Thomas, 540 U.S. 20, 26 (2003); see also Lockhart v. United States, 577 U.S. 347, 351 (2016). The rule of the last antecedent is context dependent. This Court has declined to apply the rule where, like here, the modifying clause appears after an integrated list. See Jama v. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, 543 U.S. 335, 344, n. 4 (2005) (collecting cases). Moreover, even if the rule of the last antecedent were relevant here, it would provide no help to Duguid. The last antecedent before “using a random or sequential number generator” is not “produce,” as Duguid needs it to be, but rather “telephone numbers to be called.” There is “no grammatical basis,” Cyan, 583 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 22), for arbitrarily stretching the modifier back to include “produce,” but not so far back as to include “store.”

In sum, Congress’ definition of an autodialer requires that in all cases, whether storing or producing numbers to be called, the equipment in question must use a random or sequential number generator. This definition excludes equipment like Facebook’s login notification system, which does not use such technology.[5]

B

The statutory context confirms that the autodialer definition excludes equipment that does not “us[e] a random or sequential number generator.” 47 U. S. C. §227(a)(1)(A). Consider the TCPA’s restrictions on the use of autodialers. As previously noted, §227(b)(1) makes it unlawful to use an autodialer to call certain “emergency telephone line[s]” and lines “for which the called party is charged for the call.” §227(b)(1)(A). It also makes it unlawful to use an autodialer “in such a way that two or more telephone lines of a multiline business are engaged simultaneously.” §227(b)(1)(D). These prohibitions target a unique type of telemarketing equipment that risks dialing emergency lines randomly or tying up all the sequentially numbered lines at a single entity.

Expanding the definition of an autodialer to encompass any equipment that merely stores and dials telephone numbers would take a chainsaw to these nuanced problems when Congress meant to use a scalpel. Duguid’s interpretation of an autodialer would capture virtually all modern cell phones, which have the capacity to “store . . . telephone numbers to be called” and “dial such numbers.” §227(a)(1). The TCPA’s liability provisions, then, could affect ordinary cell phone owners in the course of commonplace usage, such as speed dialing or sending automated text message responses. See §227(b)(3) (authorizing a $500 fine per violation, increased to $1,500 if the sender acted “willfully” or “knowingly”).[6]

III

Duguid’s counterarguments cannot overcome the clear commands of §227(a)(1)(A)’s text and the statutory context. The crux of Duguid’s argument is that the autodialer definition calls for a construction that accords with the “sense” of the text. Brief for Respondents 11, and n. 3. It makes the most “sense,” Duguid insists, to apply the phrase “using a random or sequential number generator” to modify only “produce,” which, unlike the verb “store,” is closely connected to the noun “generator.” Dictionary definitions of “generator,” for instance, regularly include the word “produce,” which carries a very different meaning than “store.” Duguid also claims that, at the time of the TCPA’s enactment, the technical meaning of a “random number generator” invoked ways of producing numbers, not means of storing them.

Perhaps Duguid’s interpretive approach would have some appeal if applying the traditional tools of interpretation led to a “linguistically impossible” or contextually implausible outcome. Encino Motorcars, LLC v. Navarro, 584 U. S. ___, ___ (2018) (slip op., at 8); see also Advocate Health Care Network v. Stapleton, 581 U. S. ___, ___ (2017) (slip op., at 11) (noting that a “sense of inconceivability” might “urg[e] readers to discard usual rules of interpreting text”). Duguid makes a valiant effort to prove as much, but ultimately comes up short. It is true that, as a matter of ordinary parlance, it is odd to say that a piece of equipment “stores” numbers using a random number “generator.” But it is less odd as a technical matter. Indeed, as early as 1988, the U. S. Patent and Trademark Office issued patents for devices that used a random number generator to store numbers to be called later (as opposed to using a number generator for immediate dialing).[7] Brief for Professional Association for Customer Engagement et al. as Amici Curiae 15–21. At any rate, Duguid’s interpretation is contrary to the ordinary reading of the text and, by classifying almost all modern cell phones as autodialers, would produce an outcome that makes even less sense.

Duguid’s reliance on the distributive canon fails for similar reasons. That canon provides that “[w]here a sentence contains several antecedents and several consequents,” courts should “read them distributively and apply the words to the subjects which, by context, they seem most properly to relate.” 2A Singer, Sutherland Statutes and Statutory Construction §47:26, at 448. Set aside for a moment that the canon’s relevance is highly questionable given there are two antecedents (store and produce) but only one consequent modifier (using a random or sequential number generator). See Encino Motorcars, 584 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 8) (“[T]he distributive canon has the most force when the statute allows for one-to-one matching”). As just explained, the consequent “using a random or sequential number generator” properly relates to both antecedents.

Duguid next turns to legislative purpose, but he merely gestures at Congress’ “broad privacy-protection goals.” Brief for Respondents 28 (emphasizing that Congress prohibited calls made using an autodialer without “ ‘prior express consent of the called party’ ” (quoting 47 U. S. C. §227(b)(1)(A))). That Congress was broadly concerned about intrusive telemarketing practices, however, does not mean it adopted a broad autodialer definition. Congress expressly found that the use of random or sequential number generator technology caused unique problems for business, emergency, and cellular lines. See supra, at 2. Unsurprisingly, then, the autodialer definition Congress employed includes only devices that use such technology, and the autodialer prohibitions target calls made to such lines. See §227(b)(1)(A).[8] The narrow statutory design, therefore, does not support Duguid’s broad interpretation.

Duguid last warns that accepting Facebook’s interpretation will “unleash” a “torrent of robocalls.” Brief for Respondents 38 (quotation modified). As Duguid sees it, the thrust of congressional action since the TCPA’s enactment has been to restrict nuisance calls. Because technology “adapt[s] to change,” Duguid argues, the TCPA must be treated as an “ ‘agile tool.’ ” Id., at 38, 41. To this end, Duguid asks this Court to focus not on whether a device has the “senescent technology,” id., at 41, of random or sequential number generation but instead on whether it has the “capacity to dial numbers without human intervention,” id., at 39 (internal quotation marks omitted).

To begin with, Duguid greatly overstates the effects of accepting Facebook’s interpretation. The statute separately prohibits calls using “an artificial or prerecorded voice” to various types of phone lines, including home phones and cell phones, unless an exception applies. See 47 U. S. C. §§227(b)(1)(A) and (B). Our decision does not affect that prohibition. In any event, Duguid’s quarrel is with Congress, which did not define an autodialer as malleably as he would have liked. “Senescent” as a number generator (and perhaps the TCPA itself ) may be, that is no justification for eschewing the best reading of §227(a)(1)(A). This Court must interpret what Congress wrote, which is that “using a random or sequential number generator” modifies both “store” and “produce.”

*  *  *

We hold that a necessary feature of an autodialer under §227(a)(1)(A) is the capacity to use a random or sequential number generator to either store or produce phone numbers to be called. The judgment of the Court of Appeals is reversed, and the case is remanded for further proceedings consistent with this opinion.

It is so ordered.

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES

Syllabus

Gundy v. United States

certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the second circuit

No. 17–6086. Argued October 2, 2018—Decided June 20, 2019

Congress has sought, for the past quarter century, to combat sex crimes and crimes against children through sex-offender registration schemes. The Sex Offender Registration and Notification Act (SORNA) makes more “uniform and effective” the prior “patchwork” of reg- istration systems. Reynolds v. United States, 565 U.S. 432, 435. To that end, it requires a broader range of sex offenders to register and backs up those requirements with criminal penalties. Section 20913 elaborates the “[i]nitial registration” requirements for sex offenders. 34 U. S. C. §§20913(b), (d). Subsection (b) sets out the general rule: An offender must register “before completing a sentence of imprisonment with respect to the offense giving rise to the registration requirement.” §20913(b). Subsection (d) addresses the “[i]nitial registration of sex offenders unable to comply with subsection (b).” The provision states that, for individuals convicted of a sex offense before SORNA’s enactment (“pre-Act offenders”), the Attorney General “shall have the authority” to “specify the applicability” of SORNA’s registration requirements and “to prescribe rules for [their] registration.” §20913(d). Under that delegated authority, the Attorney General issued a rule specifying that SORNA’s registration requirements apply in full to pre-Act offenders. Petitioner Herman Gundy, a pre-Act offender, was convicted of failing to register. Both the District Court and the Second Circuit rejected his claim that Congress unconstitutionally delegated legislative power when it authorized the Attorney General to “specify the applicability” of SORNA’s registration requirements to pre-Act offenders.

Held: The judgment is affirmed.

695 Fed. Appx. 639, affirmed.

Justice Kagan, joined by Justice Ginsburg, Justice Breyer, and Justice Sotomayor, concluded that §20913(d) does not violate the nondelegation doctrine. Pp. 4–18.

(a) Article I of the Constitution provides that “[a]ll legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States.” §1. Based on that provision, this Court explained early on that Congress may not transfer to another branch “powers which are strictly and exclusively legislative.” Wayman v. Southard, 10 Wheat. 1, 42–43. But Congress may confer substantial discretion on executive agencies to implement and enforce the laws. Accordingly, the Court has held, time and time again, that a statutory delegation is constitutional as long as Congress “ ‘lay[s] down by legislative act an intelligible principle to which the person or body authorized to [exercise that authority] is directed to conform.’ ” Mistretta v. United States, 488 U.S. 361, 372. Given that standard, a nondelegation inquiry always begins (and often almost ends) with statutory interpretation. Only after a court has determined a challenged statute’s meaning can it decide whether the law sufficiently guides executive discretion to accord with Article I. Pp. 4–6.

(b) This Court has already interpreted §20913(d) to require the Attorney General to apply SORNA to all pre-Act offenders as soon as feasible. In Reynolds v. United States, 565 U.S. 432, the Court held that SORNA’s registration requirements did not apply of their own force to pre-Act offenders. But in doing so, it made clear how far SORNA limited the Attorney General’s authority and thereby effectively resolved this case. The Court started from the premise that Congress meant for SORNA’s registration requirements to apply to pre-Act offenders, based on the Act’s statutory purpose, its definition of sex offender, and its history. But the Court found that Congress had conditioned pre-Act offenders’ duty to register on a prior ruling from the Attorney General because “instantaneous registration” of pre-Act offenders “might not prove feasible.” Id., at 440–441. SORNA, the majority explained, created a “practical problem[ ]” because it would require “newly registering or reregistering a large number of pre-Act offenders.” Id., at 440. In addition, many pre-Act offenders were already out of prison and could not comply with the requirement that they register before completing their sentences. Congress therefore “[a]sk[ed] the Department of Justice, charged with responsibility for implementation, to examine [the issues] and to apply the new registration requirements accordingly.” Id., at 441. On that understanding, the Attorney General’s role under §20913(d) was important but limited: It was to apply SORNA to pre-Act offenders as soon as he thought it feasible to do so. Pp. 6–10.

(c) Gundy claims that §20913(d) empowers the Attorney General to do whatever he wants as to pre-Act offenders, including exempting them from registration forever. He bases that argument on the first half of §20913(d), isolated from everything else. But this Court has long refused to construe words “in a vacuum,” as Gundy attempts. Davis v. Michigan Dept. of Treasury, 489 U.S. 803, 809. Rather, the Court interprets statutory provisions—including delegations—by reading the text in “context” and in light of the statutory “purpose.” National Broadcasting Co. v. United States, 319 U.S. 190, 214, 216. Applying that approach here, it is clear that §20913(d) requires the Attorney General to register pre-Act offenders as soon as feasible. In SORNA’s statement of purpose, Congress announced that “to protect the public,” it was “establish[ing] a comprehensive national system for the registration” of “sex offenders.” §20901. The term “comprehensive” means “all-encompassing” or “sweeping.” That description could not fit the system SORNA created if the Attorney General could decline, for any reason or no reason at all, to apply SORNA to all pre-Act offenders. The Act’s definition of “sex offender” makes the same point. Under that definition, a “sex offender” is “an individual who was convicted of a sex offense.” §20911(1). Congress’s use of the past tense shows that SORNA was not merely forward-looking and confirms that the delegation allows only temporary exclusions. The Act’s legislative history backs that all up, by showing that the need to register pre-Act offenders was front and center in Congress’s thinking. The text and title of §20913(d) then pinpoint one of the practical problems discussed above: At the moment of SORNA’s enactment, many pre-Act offenders were “unable to comply” with the Act’s initial registration requirements. §20913(d). In identifying that issue, §20913(d) itself reveals the nature of the delegation to the Attorney General. It was to give him the time needed (if any) to address the various implementation issues involved in getting pre-Act offenders into the registration system. Thus, contrary to Gundy, “specify the applicability” does not mean “specify whether to apply SORNA” to pre-Act offenders at all. The phrase instead means “specify how to apply SORNA” to pre-Act offenders if transitional difficulties require some delay. And no Attorney General has used §20913(d) in any more expansive way. Pp. 10–15.

(d) Section 20913(d)’s delegation therefore falls well within constitutional bounds. As noted, a delegation is constitutional so long as Congress sets out an intelligible principle to guide the delegee’s exercise of authority. The standards for that principle are not demanding. See Whitman v. American Trucking Assns., Inc., 531 U.S. 457, 474–475. Only twice in this country’s history has the Court found a delegation excessive, in each case because “Congress had failed to articulate any policy or standard” to confine discretion. Mistretta, 488 U. S., at 373, n. 3; see A. L. A. Schechter Poultry Corp. v. United States, 295 U.S. 495; Panama Refining Co. v. Ryan, 293 U.S. 388. By contrast, the Court has over and over upheld even very broad delegations. See, e.g., National Broadcasting Co. v. United States, 319 U.S. 190. In that context, the delegation in SORNA easily passes muster. The authority §20913(d) confers, as compared to the delegations the Court has upheld in the past, is distinctly small bore. Indeed, if SORNA’s delegation is unconstitutional, then most of Government is unconstitutional—dependent as Congress is on the need to give discretion to executive officials to implement its programs. Pp. 15–18.

Justice Alito concluded that he cannot say that the statute at issue lacks an adequately discernable standard under the nondelegation approach the Court has taken for the past 84 years, but would reconsider that approach in an appropriate case. P. 1.

Kagan, J., announced the judgment of the Court and delivered an opinion, in which Ginsburg, Breyer, and Sotomayor, JJ., joined. Alito, J., filed an opinion concurring in the judgment. Gorsuch, J., filed a dissenting opinion, in which Roberts, C. J., and Thomas, J., joined. Kavanaugh, J., took no part in the consideration or decision of the case.

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES

_________________

No. 17–6086

_________________

HERMAN AVERY GUNDY, PETITIONER v. UNITED STATES

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the second circuit

[June 20, 2019]

Justice Kagan announced the judgment of the Court and delivered an opinion, in which Justice Ginsburg, Justice Breyer, and Justice Sotomayor join.

The nondelegation doctrine bars Congress from transferring its legislative power to another branch of Government. This case requires us to decide whether 34 U. S. C. §20913(d), enacted as part of the Sex Offender Registration and Notification Act (SORNA), violates that doctrine. We hold it does not. Under §20913(d), the Attorney General must apply SORNA’s registration requirements as soon as feasible to offenders convicted before the statute’s enactment. That delegation easily passes constitutional muster.

I

Congress has sought, for the past quarter century, to combat sex crimes and crimes against children through sex-offender registration schemes. In 1994, Congress first conditioned certain federal funds on States’ adoption of registration laws meeting prescribed minimum standards. See Jacob Wetterling Crimes Against Children and Sexually Violent Offender Registration Act, §170101, 108 Stat. 2038, 42 U. S. C. §14071 et seq. (1994 ed.). Two years later, Congress strengthened those standards, most notably by insisting that States inform local communities of registrants’ addresses. See Megan’s Law, §2, 110Stat. 1345, note following 42 U. S. C. §13701 (1994 ed., Supp. II). By that time, every State and the District of Columbia had enacted a sex-offender registration law. But the state statutes varied along many dimensions, and Congress came to realize that their “loopholes and deficiencies” had allowed over 100,000 sex offenders (about 20% of the total) to escape registration. See H. R. Rep. No. 109–218, pt. 1, pp. 20, 23–24, 26 (2005) (referring to those sex offenders as “missing” or “lost”). In 2006, to address those failings, Congress enacted SORNA. See 120Stat. 590, 34 U. S. C. §20901 et seq.

SORNA makes “more uniform and effective” the prior “patchwork” of sex-offender registration systems. Reynolds v. United States, 565 U.S. 432, 435 (2012). The Act’s express “purpose” is “to protect the public from sex offenders and offenders against children” by “establish[ing] a comprehensive national system for [their] registration.” §20901. To that end, SORNA covers more sex offenders, and imposes more onerous registration requirements, than most States had before. The Act also backs up those requirements with new criminal penalties. Any person required to register under SORNA who knowingly fails to do so (and who travels in interstate commerce) may be imprisoned for up to ten years. See 18 U. S. C. §2250(a).

The basic registration scheme works as follows. A “sex offender” is defined as “an individual who was convicted of” specified criminal offenses: all offenses “involving a sexual act or sexual contact” and additional offenses “against a minor.” 34 U. S. C. §§20911(1), (5)(A), (7). Such an individual must register—provide his name, address, and certain other information—in every State where he resides, works, or studies. See §§20913(a), 20914. And he must keep the registration current, and periodically report in person to a law enforcement office, for a period of between fifteen years and life (depending on the severity of his crime and his history of recidivism). See §§20915, 20918.

Section 20913—the disputed provision here—elaborates the “[i]nitial registration” requirements for sex offenders. §§20913(b), (d). Subsection (b) sets out the general rule: An offender must register “before completing a sentence of imprisonment with respect to the offense giving rise to the registration requirement” (or, if the offender is not sentenced to prison, “not later than [three] business days after being sentenced”). Two provisions down, subsection (d) addresses (in its title’s words) the “[i]nitial registration of sex offenders unable to comply with subsection (b).” The provision states:

“The Attorney General shall have the authority to specify the applicability of the requirements of this subchapter to sex offenders convicted before the enactment of this chapter . . . and to prescribe rules for the registration of any such sex offenders and for other categories of sex offenders who are unable to comply with subsection (b).”

Subsection (d), in other words, focuses on individuals convicted of a sex offense before SORNA’s enactment—a group we will call pre-Act offenders. Many of these individuals were unregistered at the time of SORNA’s enactment, either because pre-existing law did not cover them or because they had successfully evaded that law (so were “lost” to the system). See supra, at 2. And of those potential new registrants, many or most could not comply with subsection (b)’s registration rule because they had already completed their prison sentences. For the entire group of pre-Act offenders, once again, the Attorney General “shall have the authority” to “specify the applicability” of SORNA’s registration requirements and “to prescribe rules for [their] registration.”

Under that delegated authority, the Attorney General issued an interim rule in February 2007, specifying that SORNA’s registration requirements apply in full to “sex offenders convicted of the offense for which registration is required prior to the enactment of that Act.” 72 Fed. Reg. 8897. The final rule, issued in December 2010, reiterated that SORNA applies to all pre-Act offenders. 75 Fed. Reg. 81850. That rule has remained the same to this day.

Petitioner Herman Gundy is a pre-Act offender. The year before SORNA’s enactment, he pleaded guilty under Maryland law for sexually assaulting a minor. After his release from prison in 2012, Gundy came to live in New York. But he never registered there as a sex offender. A few years later, he was convicted for failing to register, in violation of §2250. He argued below (among other things) that Congress unconstitutionally delegated legislative power when it authorized the Attorney General to “specify the applicability” of SORNA’s registration requirements to pre-Act offenders. §20913(d). The District Court and Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit rejected that claim, see 695 Fed. Appx. 639 (2017), as had every other court (including eleven Courts of Appeals) to consider the issue. We nonetheless granted certiorari. 583 U. S. __ (2018). Today, we join the consensus and affirm.

II

Article I of the Constitution provides that “[a]ll legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States.” §1. Accompanying that assignment of power to Congress is a bar on its further delegation. Congress, this Court explained early on, may not transfer to another branch “powers which are strictly and exclusively legislative.” Wayman v. Southard, 10 Wheat. 1, 42–43 (1825). But the Constitution does not “deny[ ] to the Congress the necessary resources of flexibility and practicality [that enable it] to perform its function[s].” Yakus v. United States, 321 U.S. 414, 425 (1944) (internal quotation marks omitted). Congress may “obtain[ ] the assistance of its coordinate Branches”—and in particular, may confer substantial discretion on executive agencies to implement and enforce the laws. Mistretta v. United States, 488 U.S. 361, 372 (1989). “[I]n our increasingly complex society, replete with ever changing and more technical problems,” this Court has understood that “Congress simply cannot do its job absent an ability to delegate power under broad general directives.” Ibid. So we have held, time and again, that a statutory delegation is constitutional as long as Congress “lay[s] down by legislative act an intelligible principle to which the person or body authorized to [exercise the delegated authority] is directed to conform.” Ibid. (quoting J. W. Hampton, Jr., & Co. v. United States, 276 U.S. 394, 409 (1928); brackets in original).

Given that standard, a nondelegation inquiry always begins (and often almost ends) with statutory interpretation. The constitutional question is whether Congress has supplied an intelligible principle to guide the delegee’s use of discretion. So the answer requires construing the challenged statute to figure out what task it delegates and what instructions it provides. See, e.g., Whitman v. American Trucking Assns., Inc., 531 U.S. 457, 473 (2001) (construing the text of a delegation to place constitutionally adequate “limits on the EPA’s discretion”); American Power & Light Co. v. SEC, 329 U.S. 90, 104–105 (1946) (interpreting a statutory delegation, in light of its “purpose[,] factual background[, and] context,” to provide sufficiently “definite” standards). Only after a court has determined a challenged statute’s meaning can it decide whether the law sufficiently guides executive discretion to accord with Article I. And indeed, once a court interprets the statute, it may find that the constitutional question all but answers itself.

That is the case here, because §20913(d) does not give the Attorney General anything like the “unguided” and “unchecked” authority that Gundy says. Brief for Petitioner 37, 45. The provision, in Gundy’s view, “grants the Attorney General plenary power to determine SORNA’s applicability to pre-Act offenders—to require them to register, or not, as she sees fit, and to change her policy for any reason and at any time.” Id., at 42. If that were so, we would face a nondelegation question. But it is not. This Court has already interpreted §20913(d) to say something different—to require the Attorney General to apply SORNA to all pre-Act offenders as soon as feasible. See Reynolds, 565 U. S., at 442–443. And revisiting that issue yet more fully today, we reach the same conclusion. The text, considered alongside its context, purpose, and history, makes clear that the Attorney General’s discretion extends only to considering and addressing feasibility issues. Given that statutory meaning, Gundy’s constitutional claim must fail. Section 20913(d)’s delegation falls well within permissible bounds.

A

This is not the first time this Court has had to interpret §20913(d). In Reynolds, the Court considered whether SORNA’s registration requirements applied of their own force to pre-Act offenders or instead applied only once the Attorney General said they did. We read the statute as adopting the latter approach. But even as we did so, we made clear how far SORNA limited the Attorney General’s authority. And in that way, we effectively resolved the case now before us.

Everything in Reynolds started from the premise that Congress meant for SORNA’s registration requirements to apply to pre-Act offenders. The majority recounted SORNA’s “basic statutory purpose,” found in its text, as follows: “the ‘establish[ment of] a comprehensive national system for the registration of [sex] offenders’ that includes offenders who committed their offenses before the Act became law.” 565 U. S., at 442 (quoting §20901; emphasis and alterations in original; citation omitted). That purpose, the majority further noted, informed SORNA’s “broad[ ]” definition of “sex offender,” which “include[s] any ‘individual who was convicted of a sex offense.’ ” Id., at 442 (quoting §20911(1); emphasis added). And those two provisions were at one with “[t]he Act’s history.” Id., at 442. Quoting statements from both the House and the Senate about the sex offenders then “lost” to the system, Reynolds explained that the Act’s “supporters placed considerable importance upon the registration of pre-Act offenders.” Ibid. In recognizing all this, the majority (temporarily) bonded with the dissenting Justices, who found it obvious that SORNA was “meant to cover pre-Act offenders.” Id., at 448 (Scalia, J., dissenting). And indeed, the dissent emphasized that common ground, remarking that “the Court acknowledges” and “rightly believes” that registration of pre-Act offenders was “what the statute sought to achieve.” Id., at 448–449.[1]

But if that was so, why had Congress (as the majority held) conditioned the pre-Act offenders’ duty to register on a prior “ruling from the Attorney General”? Id., at 441. The majority had a simple answer: “[I]nstantaneous registration” of pre-Act offenders “might not prove feasible,” or “[a]t least Congress might well have so thought.” Id., at 440–441, 443. Here, the majority explained that SORNA’s requirements diverged from prior state law. See id., at 440; supra, at 2. Some pre-Act offenders (as defined by SORNA) had never needed to register before; others had once had to register, but had fulfilled their old obligations. And still others (the “lost” or “missing” offenders) should have registered, but had escaped the system. As a result, SORNA created a “practical problem[ ]”: It would require “newly registering or reregistering a large number of pre-Act offenders.” Reynolds, 565 U. S., at 440 (internal quotation marks omitted). And attached to that broad feasibility concern was a more technical one. Recall that under SORNA “a sex offender must initially register before completing his ‘sentence of imprisonment.’ ” Id., at 439 (quoting §20913(b)); see supra, at 3. But many pre-Act offenders were already out of prison, so could not comply with that requirement. That inability raised questions about “how[] the new registration requirements applied to them.” 565 U. S., at 441. “Congress[’s] solution” to both those difficulties was the same: Congress “[a]sk[ed] the Department of Justice, charged with responsibility for implementation, to examine [the issues] and to apply the new registration requirements accordingly.” Ibid.

On that understanding, the Attorney General’s role under §20913(d) was important but limited: It was to apply SORNA to pre-Act offenders as soon as he thought it feasible to do so. That statutory delegation, the Court explained, would “involve[] implementation delay.” Id., at 443. But no more than that. Congress had made clear in SORNA’s text that the new registration requirements would apply to pre-Act offenders. See id., at 442–445. So (the Court continued) “there was no need” for Congress to worry about the “unrealistic possibility” that “the Attorney General would refuse to apply” those requirements on some excessively broad view of his authority under §20913(d). Id., at 444–445. Reasonably read, SORNA enabled the Attorney General only to address (as appropriate) the “practical problems” involving pre-Act offenders before requiring them to register. Id., at 440. The delegation was a stopgap, and nothing more.[2]

Gundy dismisses Reynolds’s relevance, but his arguments come up short. To begin, he contends that Rey- nolds spoke “tentative[ly]”—with “might[s], may[s], or could[s]”—about Congress’s reasons for enacting §20913(d). Reply Brief 11; see supra, at 7 (quoting such phrases). Gundy concludes from such constructions—which are indeed present—that the Court was “not offering a definitive reading of the statute.” Reply Brief 11. But the Court used those locutions to convey not its own uncertainty but Congress’s. The point of the opinion was that Congress had questions about how best to phase SORNA’s application to pre-Act offenders, so gave the Attorney General flexibility on timing. The “mights, mays, and coulds” were there to describe the legislative mindset responsible for §20913(d), and thus formed part of the Court’s own—yes, “definitive”—view of that provision’s meaning. Anticipating that explanation, Gundy falls back on the claim that the Court’s account of Congress’s motivations “cannot supply the intelligible principle Congress failed to enact into law.” Id., at 12 (citing Whitman, 531 U. S., at 473). But the Court in Reynolds did not invent a standard Congress omitted. Rather, the Court read the statute to contain a standard—again, that the Attorney General should apply SORNA to pre-Act offenders as soon as feasible. And as the next part of this opinion shows, in somewhat greater detail than Reynolds thought necessary, we read the statute in the same way.

B

Recall again the delegation provision at issue. Congress gave the Attorney General authority to “specify the applicability” of SORNA’s requirements to pre-Act offenders. §20913(d). And in the second half of the same sentence, Congress gave him authority to “prescribe rules for the registration of any such sex offenders . . . who are unable to comply with” subsection (b)’s initial registration requirement. Ibid. What does the delegation in §20913(d) allow the Attorney General to do?

The different answers on offer here reflect competing views of statutory interpretation. As noted above, Gundy urges us to read §20913(d) to empower the Attorney General to do whatever he wants as to pre-Act offenders: He may make them all register immediately or he may exempt them from registration forever (or he may do anything in between). See Brief for Petitioner 41–42; supra, at 6. Gundy bases that argument on the first half of §20913(d), isolated from everything else—from the second half of the same section, from surrounding provisions in SORNA, and from any conception of the statute’s history and purpose. Reynolds took a different approach (as does the Government here), understanding statutory interpretation as a “holistic endeavor” which determines meaning by looking not to isolated words, but to text in context, along with purpose and history. United Sav. Assn. of Tex. v. Timbers of Inwood Forest Associates, Ltd., 484 U.S. 365, 371 (1988).

This Court has long refused to construe words “in a vacuum,” as Gundy attempts. Davis v. Michigan Dept. of Treasury, 489 U.S. 803, 809 (1989). “It is a fundamental canon of statutory construction that the words of a statute must be read in their context and with a view to their place in the overall statutory scheme.” National Assn. of Home Builders v. Defenders of Wildlife, 551 U.S. 644, 666 (2007) (internal quotation marks omitted); see Utility Air Regulatory Group v. EPA, 573 U.S. 302, 321 (2014) (“[R]easonable statutory interpretation must account for both the specific context in which . . . language is used and the broader context of the statute as a whole” (internal quotation marks omitted)). And beyond context and structure, the Court often looks to “history [and] purpose” to divine the meaning of language. Maracich v. Spears, 570 U.S. 48, 76 (2013) (internal quotation marks omitted). That non-blinkered brand of interpretation holds good for delegations, just as for other statutory provisions. To define the scope of delegated authority, we have looked to the text in “context” and in light of the statutory “purpose.” National Broadcasting Co. v. United States, 319 U.S. 190, 214, 216 (1943) (internal quotation marks omitted); see American Power & Light, 329 U. S., at 104 (stating that the delegation at issue “derive[d] much meaningful content from the purpose of the Act, its factual background and the statutory context”). In keeping with that method, we again do so today.

So begin at the beginning, with the “[d]eclaration of purpose” that is SORNA’s first sentence. §20901. There, Congress announced (as Reynolds noted, see supra, at 6–7) that “to protect the public,” it was “establish[ing] a comprehensive national system for the registration” of “sex offenders and offenders against children.” §20901. The term “comprehensive” has a clear meaning—something that is all-encompassing or sweeping. See, e.g., Webster’s Third New International Dictionary 467 (2002) (“covering a matter under consideration completely or nearly completely”); New Oxford American Dictionary 350 (2d ed. 2005) (“complete; including all or nearly all elements or aspects of something”). That description could not fit the system SORNA created if the Attorney General could decline, for any reason or no reason at all, to apply SORNA to all pre-Act offenders. After all, for many years after SORNA’s enactment, the great majority of sex offenders in the country would be pre-Act offenders. If Gundy were right, all of those offenders could be exempt from SORNA’s registration requirements. So the mismatch between SORNA’s statement of purpose and Gundy’s view of §20913(d) is as stark as stark comes. Responding to that patent disparity, Gundy urges us to ignore SORNA’s statement of purpose because it is “located in the Act’s preface” rather than “tied” specifically to §20913(d). Brief for Petitioner 46. But the placement of such a statement within a statute makes no difference. See A. Scalia & B. Garner, Reading Law: The Interpretation of Legal Texts 220 (2012). Wherever it resides, it is “an appropriate guide” to the “meaning of the [statute’s] operative provisions.” Id., at 218. And here it makes clear that SORNA was supposed to apply to all pre-Act offenders—which precludes Gundy’s construction of §20913(d).

The Act’s definition of “sex offender” (also noted in Reynolds, see supra, at 7) makes the same point. Under that definition, a “sex offender” is “an individual who was convicted of a sex offense.” §20911(1). Note the tense: “was,” not “is.” This Court has often “looked to Congress’ choice of verb tense to ascertain a statute’s temporal reach,” including when interpreting other SORNA provisions. Carr v. United States, 560 U.S. 438, 447–448 (2010) (holding that because SORNA “sets forth [its] travel requirement in the present tense,” the statute’s criminal penalties do not apply to a person whose interstate travel predated enactment); see, e.g., United States v. Wilson, 503 U.S. 329, 333 (1992); Gwaltney of Smithfield, Ltd. v. Chesapeake Bay Foundation, Inc., 484 U.S. 49, 57 (1987). Here, Congress’s use of the past tense to define the term “sex offender” shows that SORNA was not merely forward-looking. The word “is” would have taken care of all future offenders. The word “was” served to bring in the hundreds of thousands of persons previously found guilty of a sex offense, and thought to pose a current threat to the public. The tense of the “sex offender” definition thus confirms that the delegation allows only temporary exclusions, as necessary to address feasibility issues. Contra Gundy, it does not sweep so wide as to make a laughingstock of the statute’s core definition.

The Act’s legislative history backs up everything said above by showing that the need to register pre-Act offenders was front and center in Congress’s thinking. (Once again, the Reynolds majority noted this history, but Justice Scalia’s dissent thought that was gilding the lily. See supra, at 7, and n. 1. He had a point, but we can’t resist.) Recall that Congress designed SORNA to address “loopholes and deficiencies” in existing registration laws. See supra, at 2. And no problem attracted greater attention than the large number of sex offenders who had slipped the system. According to the House Report, “[t]he most significant enforcement issue in the sex offender program is that over 100,000 sex offenders” are “ ‘missing,’ meaning that they have not complied with” then-current requirements. H. R. Rep. No. 109–218, at 26. There is a “strong public interest,” the Report continued, in “having [those offenders] register with current information to mitigate the risks of additional crimes against children.” Id., at 24. Senators struck a similar chord in the debates preceding SORNA’s passage, repeatedly stressing that the new provisions would capture the missing offenders. See, e.g., 152 Cong. Rec. 15338 (2006) (statement of Sen. Kyl) (“The penalties in this bill should be adequate to ensure that [the 100,000 missing offenders] register”); id., at 13050 (statement of Sen. Frist) (“Every day that we don’t have this national sex offender registry, these missing sex predators are out there somewhere”). Imagine how surprising those Members would have found Gundy’s view that they had authorized the Attorney General to exempt the missing “predators” from registering at all.

With that context and background established, we may return to §20913(d). As we have noted, Gundy makes his stand there (and there only), insisting that the lonesome phrase “specify the applicability” ends this case. See supra, at 10. But in so doing, Gundy ignores even the rest of the section that phrase is in. Both the title and the remaining text of that section pinpoint one of the “practical problems” discussed above: At the moment of SORNA’s enactment, many pre-Act offenders were “unable to comply” with the Act’s initial registration requirements. §20913(d); Reynolds, 565 U. S., at 440; see supra, at 8. That was because, once again, the requirements assumed that offenders would be in prison, whereas many pre-Act offenders were on the streets. In identifying that issue, §20913(d) itself reveals the nature of the delegation to the Attorney General. It was to give him the time needed (if any) to address the various implementation issues involved in getting pre-Act offenders into the registration system. “Specify the applicability” thus does not mean “specify whether to apply SORNA” to pre-Act offenders at all, even though everything else in the Act commands their coverage. The phrase instead means “specify how to apply SORNA” to pre-Act offenders if transitional difficulties require some delay. In that way, the whole of §20913(d) joins the rest of SORNA in giving the Attorney General only time-limited latitude to excuse pre-Act offenders from the statute’s requirements. Under the law, he had to order their registration as soon as feasible.

And no Attorney General has used (or, apparently, thought to use) §20913(d) in any more expansive way. To the contrary. Within a year of SORNA’s enactment (217 days, to be precise), the Attorney General determined that SORNA would apply immediately to pre-Act offenders. See Interim Rule, 72 Fed. Reg. 8897; supra, at 4. That rule has remained in force ever since (save for a technical change to one of the rule’s illustrative examples). See Final Rule, 75 Fed. Reg. 81850.[3] And at oral argument here, the Solicitor General’s office—rarely in a hurry to agree to limits on the Government’s authority—acknowledged that §20913(d) does not allow the Attorney General to excuse a pre-Act offender from registering, except for reasons of “feasibility.” Tr. of Oral Arg. 41–42. We thus end up, on close inspection of the statutory scheme, exactly where Reynolds left us. The Attorney General’s authority goes to transition-period implementation issues, and no further.

C

Now that we have determined what §20913(d) means, we can consider whether it violates the Constitution. The question becomes: Did Congress make an impermissible delegation when it instructed the Attorney General to apply SORNA’s registration requirements to pre-Act offenders as soon as feasible? Under this Court’s long-established law, that question is easy. Its answer is no.

As noted earlier, this Court has held that a delegation is constitutional so long as Congress has set out an “intelligible principle” to guide the delegee’s exercise of authority. J. W. Hampton, Jr., & Co., 276 U. S., at 409; see supra, at 5. Or in a related formulation, the Court has stated that a delegation is permissible if Congress has made clear to the delegee “the general policy” he must pursue and the “boundaries of [his] authority.” American Power & Light, 329 U. S., at 105. Those standards, the Court has made clear, are not demanding. “[W]e have ‘almost never felt qualified to second-guess Congress regarding the permissible degree of policy judgment that can be left to those executing or applying the law.’ ” Whitman, 531 U. S., at 474–475 (quoting Mistretta, 488 U. S., at 416 (Scalia, J., dissenting)). Only twice in this country’s history (and that in a single year) have we found a delegation excessive—in each case because “Congress had failed to articulate any policy or standard” to confine discretion. Mistretta, 488 U. S., at 373, n. 7 (emphasis added); see A. L. A. Schechter Poultry Corp. v. United States, 295 U.S. 495 (1935); Panama Refining Co. v. Ryan, 293 U.S. 388 (1935). By contrast, we have over and over upheld even very broad delegations. Here is a sample: We have approved delegations to various agencies to regulate in the “public interest.” See, e.g., National Broadcasting Co., 319 U. S., at 216; New York Central Securities Corp. v. United States, 287 U.S. 12, 24 (1932). We have sustained authorizations for agencies to set “fair and equitable” prices and “just and reasonable” rates. Yakus, 321 U. S., at 422, 427; FPC v. Hope Natural Gas Co., 320 U.S. 591 (1944). We more recently affirmed a delegation to an agency to issue whatever air quality standards are “requisite to protect the public health.” Whitman, 531 U. S., at 472 (quoting 42 U. S. C. §7409(b)(1)). And so forth.

In that context, the delegation in SORNA easily passes muster (as all eleven circuit courts to have considered the question found, see supra, at 4). The statute conveyed Congress’s policy that the Attorney General require pre-Act offenders to register as soon as feasible. Under the law, the feasibility issues he could address were administrative—and, more specifically, transitional—in nature. Those issues arose, as Reynolds explained, from the need to “newly register[ ] or reregister[ ] ‘a large number’ of pre-Act offenders” not then in the system. 565 U. S., at 440; see supra, at 8. And they arose, more technically, from the gap between an initial registration requirement hinged on imprisonment and a set of pre-Act offenders long since released. See 565 U. S., at 441; see supra, at 8. Even for those limited matters, the Act informed the Attorney General that he did not have forever to work things out. By stating its demand for a “comprehensive” registration system and by defining the “sex offenders” required to register to include pre-Act offenders, Congress conveyed that the Attorney General had only temporary authority. Or again, in the words of Reynolds, that he could prevent “instantaneous registration” and impose some “implementation delay.” 565 U. S., at 443. That statutory authority, as compared to the delegations we have upheld in the past, is distinctly small-bore. It falls well within constitutional bounds.[4]

Indeed, if SORNA’s delegation is unconstitutional, then most of Government is unconstitutional—dependent as Congress is on the need to give discretion to executive officials to implement its programs. Consider again this Court’s long-time recognition: “Congress simply cannot do its job absent an ability to delegate power under broad general directives.” Mistretta, 488 U. S., at 372; see supra, at 5. Or as the dissent in that case agreed: “[S]ome judgments . . . must be left to the officers executing the law.” 488 U. S., at 415 (opinion of Scalia, J.); see Whitman, 531 U. S., at 475 (“[A] certain degree of discretion[ ] inheres in most executive” action (internal quotation marks omitted)). Among the judgments often left to executive officials are ones involving feasibility. In fact, standards of that kind are ubiquitous in the U. S. Code. See, e.g., 12 U. S. C. §1701z–2(a) (providing that the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development “shall require, to the greatest extent feasible, the employment of new and improved technologies, methods, and materials in housing construction[ ] under [HUD] programs”); 47 U. S. C. §903(d)(1) (providing that “the Secretary of Commerce shall promote efficient and cost-effective use of the spectrum to the maximum extent feasible” in “assigning frequencies for mobile radio services”). In those delegations, Congress gives its delegee the flexibility to deal with real-world constraints in carrying out his charge. So too in SORNA.

It is wisdom and humility alike that this Court has always upheld such “necessities of government.” Mistretta, 488 U. S., at 416 (Scalia, J., dissenting) (internal quo- tation marks omitted); see ibid. (“Since Congress is no less endowed with common sense than we are, and better equipped to inform itself of the ‘necessities’ of government; and since the factors bearing upon those necessities are both multifarious and (in the nonpartisan sense) highly political . . . it is small wonder that we have almost never felt qualified to second-guess Congress regarding the permissible degree of policy judgment that can be left to those executing or applying the law”). We therefore affirm the judgment of the Court of Appeals.

It is so ordered.

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