If a Theory Tends Toward Abuse, It's Probably a Bad Theory

Over at the Originalism Blog, David Weisberg writes about Michael Ramsey's post arguing that originalism has constrained the Supreme Court from actively outlawing abortion on Constitutional grounds. I criticized Ramsey's post here.

Ramsey was responding to Paul Waldman, who wrote in the Washington Post that Supreme Court nominees lied when they testified at their confirmation hearings that originalism was a neutral judicial philosophy. As Weisberg characterizes it:

Paul Waldman, writing in the Washington Post, claims that the recent arguments in Dobbs reveal that Trump’s three Supreme Court nominees perpetrated “a lie, scam, con” when they testified that originalism, as they understood it, was a judicial philosophy that was neutral as to the outcome of any particular legal case or issue.  That is not a criticism of originalism.  It is instead a criticism of particular individuals who identify as originalists.

Originalists often defend their theory against criticism that judges and Justices fail to properly implement it by claiming that this a problem with practice rather than theory. Some have gone so far as to argue that originalism as a standard should be entirely divorced from considerations of implementation.  

Weisberg returns to this theme later in his post:

When one questions the good faith of the practitioners of a legal theory, rather than analyzing and criticizing the legal theory itself, a disheartening symmetry emerges.  Each side can say of the other: we do not believe that the reasons stated in your judicial opinions or your scholarly articles are your true reasons; the one true reason is your policy preference.  Similarly, each side can say: in deciding Case X, we did not adopt the most extreme position on the spectrum of policy preferences; this proves our decision is grounded in law and not in policy preference.  And the “liberal” side says that weakening or overturning Roe is a step toward a future originalist decision that the Constitution bans abortions in almost all circumstances, while the “conservative” side says that Roe itself is a first step toward a future living-constitutionalist holding that the Constitution prohibits any federal or state regulation of abortion.

Both of the claims Weisberg makes fail to make a resounding case for originalism.

If an interpretive theory tends toward abuse, it is probably a bad theory. A theory of constitutional interpretation may, by its nature, lend itself to misapplication or use as a cover for political goals. It's a blanket assumption for most originalists that the broad family of theories that they label "living constitutionalism" (read: just about anything other than originalism), are such theories. Living constitutionalism tends to result in its adherents simply applying their policy preferences rather than engaging in interpretation. A substantial component of originalism's popular appeal is that it supposedly sidesteps this problem. The original public meaning of the Constitution is a verifiable Truth that can guide decisionmakers and prevent them from resorting to deciding cases based on their political whims. 

To be sure, this characterization of originalism versus living constitutionalism is an oversimplification of the academic literature. Much has been written by academics on various sides of the debate arguing for other normative reasons to accept originalism over alternate theories. But this discussion is largely isolated in the academic sphere. In politics and popular discussion, originalism continues to be praised for its constraining power--how it prevents "activist" judges from "legislating from the bench." At least, this is how originalism is praised when it is not used as a barely-concealed synonym for promising conservative results.

If originalism gets its appeal (or a substantial portion of its appeal) from its ability to constrain judges from deciding cases based on policy preferences, then it is concerning if judges use the theory as a cover to reach decisions based on political preferences. This is supposed to be the outcome that originalism should prevent, after all. Weisberg claims that this type of criticism can be leveled against practitioners of any theory, but this isn't always the case. Some theories of interpretation may call for readings of constitutional provisions that lead to certain types of policy outcomes or that have certain practical results. Such an approach would be unacceptably political if explicitly employed by a self-proclaimed originalist, but it defines the approach of the other interpreter. A theory of interpretation that largely is based on policy considerations is not mis-implemented when a judge decides cases based on those considerations. There may be other reasons for disliking the theory--but disingenuous implementation and a lack of transparency is not one of them.

But politicized decision-making is a problem for theories that purport to be neutral--particularly for theories like originalism that gain much of their popular appeal from claiming to be neutral. If a theory, by its nature, tends to be abused in practice--if, when implemented, it consistently results in decisions in line with political preferences rather than its proclaimed neutral principles--this is a problem for the theory. And as much as the theory's proponents may point to instances of misapplication of the theory as problems with judicial actors rather than the theory itself, these instances are evidence that the theory itself tends toward misapplication and abuse. If a purportedly neutral theory ends up being misapplied most of the time, that's a reason to have second thoughts about the theory itself. After all, all of this theorizing about law and interpretation doesn't have an impact on the real world until a court applies the theory.

I've argued elsewhere that originalism tends toward abuse--primarily to the extent that it cannot be rigorously and feasibly implemented, and that this leads to decisions based on other, largely political, considerations. Those like Weisberg who would dismiss this criticism as a problem with practitioners rather than the theory itself forget that law is shaped and enforced by practitioners. Losing this perspective all too often results in ignoring reality for the sake of theory and failing to appreciate the real world implications and consequences that motivate these discussions in the first place.

Originalism is Neutral Because the Court Hasn't Outlawed Abortion Everywhere?

That seems to what Michael Ramsey argues in response to this column by Paul Waldman.  Waldman argues (fervently) that conservative justices vote their political preferences and are not constrained by purportedly neutral theories of interpretation:

It was all a lie, a scam, a con: the assurances that they were blank slates committed to “originalism” and “textualism,” that they wouldn’t “legislate from the bench,” that they have no agenda but merely a “judicial philosophy.”

Somehow that philosophy nearly always produces results conservatives want: undermining voting rights, enhancing corporate power, constraining the rights of workers, enabling the proliferation of guns, and now most vividly, allowing state governments to force women to carry pregnancies to term against their will.

Ramsey takes issue with this:

But the abortion case actually shows the opposite of Waldman's claim.  The conservative legal movement doesn't want just to overturn Roe; it (or at least part that cares most about the issue) wants to outlaw abortion.  In Dobbs, though, at most the Court may merely withdraw the constitutional bar on abortion restrictions so that the question can be resolved by the political branches. 

Why not do more?  Why wouldn't the Court rule that states that permit abortion violate the Constitution?  If the conservative Court really believes it can "legislate from the bench" to "produce[ ] results conservatives want," isn't that the outcome we would expect?

Surely the Constitution can accommodate that conclusion.  As many on the left have argued, the Constitution's due process and equal protection clauses are open-ended and can be read to appeal to broad principles to be applied in light of contemporary morality and policy.  If, as anti-abortion conservatives believe, human life begins at conception or some point near to it, an aggressive living-constitutionalist conservative could find in those clauses a protection for unborn life.  Far less plausible claims have been made and accepted by courts on behalf of the policies of the left.

The conservative originalist Justices on the Court are not going to rule this way, and Justice Scalia -- as firmly anti-abortion as anyone -- never considered it.  The reason is originalism.  Though a few scholars have argued to the contrary, the overwhelming mainstream originalist position, among both scholars and judges, is that the Constitution's original meaning does not protect unborn life.  (See here from Jonathan Adler: Why the 14th Amendment Does Not Prohibit Abortion.)  It is the Justices' commitment to originalism and textualism that prevents them from legislating from the bench to achieve conservative policy goals in the abortion debate.  (And originalism is criticized by some conservatives on this ground.)

Ramsey claims that originalism is what prevents conservative Justices from affirmatively outlawing abortion. But this is what overturning Roe would do, to a significant extent. If the Court overturns Roe by upholding a ban on abortion, the effect is that abortion is banned in the affected jurisdiction.  Not only that, but it's immediately banned in 21 other states as well. Overturning Roe has the practical impact of banning abortion immediately in nearly half of the states. 

Sure, it isn't a nationwide ban. But once Roe is overturned, how soon will it be until there is federal legislation to ban abortion nationwide? From betting that's going on in academic spheres, it look like the expectation is a couple of days. With Roe out of the way, lobbying and support for such a law will redouble, backed by assertions that it has the Court's blessing. I hope that this is a pessimistic view of things--maybe the overturning of Roe will light a fire under democrats and prompt them to take action. But I'm not optimistic this will happen.

Such a federal law wouldn't be a constitutional decree. But under this chain of events, the conservative Justices' goal of outlawing abortion would be achieved with no other Court action beyond overturning Roe v. Wade. The Court would not suffer the institutional loss of credibility that an aggressive, constitution-based ban on abortion would entail. The Court would therefore be free to support conservative policies and goals under the guise of originalism's neutrality in any number of other cases and contexts.  Ramsey claims that a refusal to affirmatively outlaw abortion on constitutional grounds is evidence of originalism's constraining effect. A far more plausible explanation is that conservative justices want to preserve their influence and credibility, and can do so at no cost, since most of the work they want to see done will be done for them by other political actors.

Just because the Court doesn't take an immediate and drastic turn to the right and capitulate to the wildest dreams of the most extreme conservatives does not prove that originalism is the neutral, constraining principle that its proponents claim it to be. Claiming that this is what must be demonstrated to prove that originalism covers up political decisions is a disingenuous tactic that moves the goalposts and ignores political context.

Originalism and Selective Historic Reference Points

A little over a week ago, Michael Dorf wrote an article in Verdict regarding oral arguments in New York State Rifle & Pistol Association Inc. v. Bruen. This is the Supreme Court's most significant Second Amendment case since McDonald v. City of Chicago, in which the Court incorporated the Second Amendment, holding that it applies against state restrictions on the right to keep and bear arms. The Supreme Court's prior opinion in District of Columbia v. Heller, two years before, had only held that the Second Amendment applied to federal restrictions. 

New York State Rifle & Pistol Association, like McDonald, involves a non-federal restriction on firearms. Most rights included in the Bill of Rights have been incorporated to apply against state and local governments--with the Supreme Court basing this incorporation in the Fourteenth Amendment's Due Process Clause. Justice Thomas has previously argued for an alternate approach to incorporation, arguing that the Privileges or Immunities Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment is the basis to apply the Second Amendment (and other rights enshrined in the Bill of Rights) against the states.

Dorf focuses on a question that Justice Thomas asked during oral argument:

Attorney Paul Clement argued the case for the plaintiffs. He contended that “history and tradition” supported his position. Justice Thomas, who, more than any of his colleagues, espouses originalism, understood Clement’s invocation of history to imply that the Court should look at what the constitutional text meant to the People who ratified it. But that then raised a question. Justice Thomas asked: “should we look at the founding, or should we look at the time of the adoption of the Fourteenth Amendment, which then, of course, applies it to the states?”

Clement, a former Solicitor General of the United States, is an excellent lawyer, so he gave the answer that best served his clients: it doesn’t matter. Whether you look at the original public meaning in 1791, when the Second Amendment was ratified, or at the original public meaning in 1868, you will find the same answer: a right of generally law-abiding citizens to carry firearms in public.

Is that right? As I discussed in an article published in the Northwestern University Law Review earlier this year, there is reason to believe (and sources cited in footnote 37 of my article conclude) that the People who ratified the Second Amendment understood its language to prevent the federal government from disarming state militias but not to have many implications for individual firearms possession, while the People who ratified the Fourteenth Amendment in 1868 understood at least some kind of individual right to keep and bear arms to be among the privileges and immunities that the provision secured against state interference. (emphasis added).

Dorf notes that the Court, both historically and now, has refused to find that constitutional amendments incorporated through the Fourteenth Amendment offer differing limits on the power of state governments compared to the federal government:

Most of the cases incorporating provisions of the Bill of Rights against the states arose during the 1960s. During that era, the Justices debated whether the Fourteenth Amendment incorporates Bill of Rights provisions against the states in exactly the way they apply to the federal government—a position sometimes called “jot-for-jot” incorporation—or whether in some instances the incorporated right might have different implications for the states.

We have already encountered one reason why a right might be different as applied to the federal government and the states: perhaps by the time the People ratified the Fourteenth Amendment in 1868, their understanding of the right had changed from the views that prevailed when the original Bill of Rights was ratified in 1791. Federalism provides another explanation: within broad bounds, each of the fifty states might be permitted some leeway in light of distinctive traditions and variations in their legal systems.

Despite the appeal of history and federalism, the Court eventually settled on jot-for-jot incorporation. Indeed, just last year, in Ramos v. Louisiana, Justice Neil Gorsuch, writing for the majority, decisively “rejected the notion that the Fourteenth Amendment applies to the States only a watered-down, subjective version of the individual guarantees of the Bill of Rights” (citations and internal quotation marks omitted). In Ramos, the Court held that the Fourteenth Amendment’s incorporation of the Sixth Amendment’s right to jury trial in criminal cases precludes conviction based on a non-unanimous jury decision in state court, just as in federal court.

Dorf notes that Thomas, as well as other justices who've authored or signed opinions regarding the scope of incorporated amendments (including Justice Gorsuch in Ramos) claim to be originalists. I've written about originalism before, both here and in longer work. Most modern versions of originalism hold that the meaning of the Constitution and its amendments are fixed at the time of ratification, and that the original public meaning of those provisions at the time of enactment is the same meaning that should be applied today. That notion of fixed meaning (sometimes described as the "fixation thesis") is accepted by most modern academic originalists.

But if meaning is fixed at the time of ratification, then most of the amendments in the Bill of Rights likely apply differently against state and local law than they do against federal laws. That's because these amendments don't apply directly to state laws. Instead, they apply to states via the Fourteenth Amendment, which was ratified 1868--many years after the amendments were originally enacted at the end of the 1700s. During those years, the public's understanding of the often broad, abstract, and value-charged language of these amendments likely changed to some degree. And yet, self-proclaimed originalists on the Court pay little mind to this--indeed some have explicitly rejected it. Take McDonald, the case that incorporated the Second Amendment against the states. There, Justice Scalia--recognized as the highest profile originalist to sit on the court--joined in the portion of Justice Alito's opinion that explicitly rejected the notion that the Fourteenth Amendment may provide a different level of protection to the right to bear arms:

[Justice Stevens] would hold that "[t]he rights protected against state infringement by the Fourteenth Amendment's Due Process Clause need not be identical in shape or scope to the rights protected against Federal Government infringement by the various provisions of the Bill of Rights." Post, at 3093.

As we have explained, the Court, for the past half century, has moved away from the two-track approach. If we were now to accept Justice STEVENS' theory across the board, decades of decisions would be undermined. We assume that this is not what is proposed. What is urged instead, it appears, is that this theory be revived solely for the individual right that Heller recognized, over vigorous dissents.

Justice Thomas, it should be noted, did not join in this portion of the opinion.

Alito's view is hardly without historic support. The Court has long refused to recognize differing levels of protection by the Fourteenth Amendment, warning against a potential dilution of protection against state law enforcement compared with federal law enforcement and raising the specter of incongruous enforcement of constitutional rights against different government actors. Take Justice Brennan's opinion for the Court in Malloy v. Hogan:

The Court thus has rejected the notion that the Fourteenth Amendment applies to the States only a "watered-down, subjective version of the individual guarantees of the Bill of Rights," Ohio ex rel. Eaton v. Price, 364 U. S. 263, 275 (dissenting opinion). If Cohen v. Hurley, 366 U. S. 117, and Adamson v. California, supra, suggest such an application of the privilege against self-incrimination, that suggestion cannot survive recognition of the degree to which the Twining view of the privilege has been eroded. What is accorded is a privilege of refusing to incriminate one's self, and the feared prosecution may be by either federal or state authorities. Murphy v. Waterfront Comm'n, post, p. 52. It would be incongruous to have different standards determine the validity of a claim of privilege based on the same feared prosecution, depending on whether the claim was asserted in a state or federal court. Therefore, the same standards must determine whether an accused's silence in either a federal or state proceeding is justified. (emphasis added).

Incongruous as such a legal regime would be, it would at least be an originalist one. Refusing to apply two different standards rejects the fixation thesis in favor of the broader goal of a consistent set of rules governing the scope of constitutional amendments. This goal may be sensible, but it isn't consistent with originalism. And this ignorance of basic originalist principles may not always be in the service of such noble goals, as Dorf argues:

To be sure, in Ramos, as in McDonald, Justice Thomas concurred separately to insist that the Privileges or Immunities Clause, rather than the Due Process Clause, does the work of incorporation. But for him as well as his colleagues, originalism—which allows for changed meanings between 1791 and 1868—stood as no obstacle to full incorporation, which they favored on what pretty clearly appeared to be policy grounds.

In that respect, the irrelevance of Justice Thomas’s question—1791 or 1868?—jibes with everything else we know about originalism. In the most hotly contested cases that come before the Supreme Court, arguments rooted in original meaning typically serve a rhetorical function. Justices invoke them to justify decisions taken on other, ideological, grounds.

What are the implications of all of this? 

First, it suggests that as much as originalist scholars may argue in favor of originalism, these arguments seem to have little impact on the Court's actual practice, which consistently ignores (and is based in a history of ignoring) the notion that constitutional provisions' meanings are fixed at the time of enactment. Originalists may respond that failures to appropriately apply originalism should not count against the theory itself. Indeed, some argue that the recognition of such failures by the professoriate turns out to be a point in favor of originalism. Leaving a thorough response to that peculiar defense for another day, I will note for now that if the Court continues to consistently misapply originalism (and reach decisions based on the foundation of jot-for-jot case law), there ought to come a point where originalists should ask themselves whether everything they are working for is really worth it. 

Second, the longstanding failure of the Court to recognize that the meaning of constitutional provisions are fixed at the time of reenactment in the Fourteenth Amendment context threatens a recent trend in originalist scholarship arguing for a positivist take on the theory. This "positivist turn" in originalist theory (very broadly and briefly summarized), argues that originalism is our law, and that it should be followed because judges promise to follow the law. If the Court's history of failing to apply the original public meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment forms the basis for a great deal of constitutional law, the thesis that originalism is, in fact, our law is significantly undermined.

Third, the issue of whether to interpret early Amendments based on their meaning at the time of the founding or at the time of the Fourteenth Amendment's ratification represents a subsection of a debate over when the Constitution's meaning should be fixed. For the most part, this debate is sadly limited--originalists argue for fixation at the time of ratification, a few people (and I) argue that provisions should be read based on present public meaning, and the Court apparently favors fixation at the time of the founding, 1868 be damned. But there are more options. Why should we consider the meaning of the Constitution as fixed at any point before the Fifteenth Amendment barred the United States and the states from denying the right to vote based on race in 1870? Why shouldn't the meaning of the Constitution be fixed in 1920 when the 19th Amendment's ratification guaranteed women the right to vote? Some may argue that the Constitution has mechanisms for amendments built in, and that this "potential sovereignty" somehow ameliorates the failure of earlier iterations of the Constitution to accommodate the democratic input of those it governs and protects. But this doesn't account for the fact that determinations of original public meaning tend to focus on the voices of those who played a role in the drafting, adoption, and ratification of constitutional provisions, and that the voices of women and African Americans were absent from these contexts for centuries. Those historically excluded from voting may not want to completely do away with the Constitution and amendments as they're worded, but they ought to have some sort of a say in the meaning of these provisions if we're going to claim with a straight face that the Constitution represents the popular will of a supermajority of Americans.

While I have dozens of depositions and hundreds of other projects and emergencies to worry about over the next few months, I'm sure I'll find the time to write more on these issues. In the meantime, we'll see if any of the Justices make an effort to differentiate between or justify particular historic reference points for their constitutional interpretations when the opinion in New York State Rifle & Pistol Association is eventually issued.

In Praise of Legal Oddities: Explaining My Research Agenda

During my second year of law school and for a few years thereafter, I dove into the world of writing and publishing legal scholarship. I wrote or coauthored seven law review articles from my second year of law school until about a year after graduation. All this while I was going to class, blogging, doing law review and moot court, and (in my third year of law school) working as a TA in undergraduate philosophy classes. 

My writing came to a halt when I began practicing civil litigation. Billable hours, being expected to read and respond to emails at any given moment, and learning the ropes of a new field (after a year doing criminal law) took up virtually all hours of my day. Unable to find a balance between work and free time, the time and energy I needed to write legal scholarship vanished.

After a few years of this (and after a few lateral moves), I ended up where I am now. I'm still busy, and the work is more complex and engaging than ever, but I've been able to strike a better degree of balance at my current firm. Because of this (and because of my need to find a distraction during several particularly difficult evenings of non-billable e-discovery administration work), I decided I'd try to get back into the game of legal scholarship. This led to my first published article in nearly six years--Shooting Fish.

I wrote Shooting Fish for fun--although a need for a thorough study of every state's laws restricting shooting fish with guns also came about due to a desire for completeness after writing an initial, partial draft of the article. It's my hope that the finished product demonstrates how much fun I had writing and researching it. 

Beyond being a fun article to write, and getting a bit of attention from others in the legal community, Shooting Fish reinvigorated my interest in academic writing and research. I began some serious research into originalism and related constitutional issues along with other timely legal topics. But I also kept my eye out for quirky subjects that could be the next fun article--something that could distract from the rigors of everyday work.

Fast-forward to today. I have three more articles accepted for publication, and two others completed and pending acceptance (although my hopes for one of them aren't too high). My writing at this point can be classified into about three rough categories:

1. Writing on legal issues relevant, or tangentially relevant, to my civil litigation practice. This takes up the smallest portion of my recent writing, and consists primarily of my article, The Citation of Unpublished Cases in the Wake of COVID-19. 
2. Critiquing constitutional originalism. My friend Al Hiland and I coauthored Originalism's Implementation Problem, which marks the start of a larger project of critiquing originalism. Our broader project is to undercut originalism as an acceptable theory of constitutional interpretation, and begins with exposing the gaps between academic originalism and "originalism" as described in politics and judicial practice. I've already written another article in this vein critiquing recent work by Stephen Sachs on treating originalism as a standard, rather than implementation procedure, and there are several other outlines and drafts in the pipeline.
3. Legal oddities. Continuing the work that I started with Shooting Fish, I've written two other articles exploring odd and underdiscussed areas of law. I've written a survey of attempts at invoking trial by combat in the United States and England, and I've written about the Third Amendment and how it was invoked in litigation, scholarship, and the media in 2020. I have the most topics and articles in the queue in this category--with plans to write about the use of dreams in evidence, the historic and modern treatment of animals as villains by the law, and (perhaps) a discussion of historic litigation over church pews and how these frequent historic disputes are referenced in modern statutes.

The traditional value of the first two categories of my articles should be fairly apparent. Writing on legal issues related to my litigation work demonstrates that I know what I'm talking about, that I've taken these issues seriously, and is helpful for the firm, which can point to this article as evidence that its attorneys know their stuff when it comes to litigating relevant matters. The originalism scholarship is valuable from a traditional legal academic perspective--originalism is a subject of great debate and volumes have been written expounding various theories and tearing those theories down. Decent scholarship in this area is relevant to high profile cases and political issues, and can demonstrate an author's knowledge of constitutional law and legal theory.

But where is the value in writing about shooting fish, trial by combat, the Third Amendment, and other odd areas of the law? Why is this such a large portion of what I'm writing about?

To start, there's practical and professional value in writing about these issues. It isn't as easy to find the key cases and scholarship for quirky research topics as it is with more mainstream issues like originalism. Researching these issues to the degree necessary to provide a useful, thorough treatment hones my abilities and demonstrates that I, as a litigation associate, am ready to get into the weeds of all sorts of topics. Writing these articles also helps develop my writing skills as a litigator. It's not enough to research the nuances of weird topics, they also need to be presented in a clear and engaging manner to keep the audience's interest. As it turns out, the same is true of writing persuasive motions in litigation. In writing scholarship on legal oddities, I draw on the writing skills I've learned as a litigator and am able to further hone those skills.

There's also academic value in writing about seemingly trivial topics. While shooting fish with guns and demanding trial by combat may, at first glance, seem irrelevant to mainstream legal issues or practice, in-depth discussion of these subjects implicates a wide range of relationships and connections with modern law and important policy issues. Laws against shooting fish with guns have constitutional implications, they can be used to illustrate effective or ineffective methods of drafting statutes, and they have bearing on environmental research and considerations that give rise to these laws in the first place. The Third Amendment illustrates how arguments may be made regarding constitutional rights in a near-vacuum of scholarship and case law, and is frequently cited by courts as an example of the Constitution's respect for privacy, the home, and freedom from government interference in people's daily lives. Exploring the implications that obscure laws and topics have on the broader framework of law and policy reveals new ways of thinking about commonplace issues, new connections between seemingly disparate policy considerations, and gives the reader and writer a more thorough understanding of the legal system.

Ultimately, though, the main reason I write about these topics is because it's fun.

Writing as an associate at a firm, rather than as a fellow or professor, comes with some disadvantages. My job requires long hours, hard work, and--when busy--becomes nearly all-consuming. If I'm going to write legal scholarship, it needs to be in my spare time, and I need to find the motivation to write after practicing law every day. Writing about topics that interest and educate me is enjoyable in itself, and provides the motivation necessary to write, even if I've been churning away on motions, pleadings, or hearings for many hours that day. 

There are also advantages to writing as an associate. I don't need to pigeonhole my research interests into subjects that I think would are inherently of interest to a mainstream academic audience or tenure committee. I just need to make sure that my writing is well-researched and engaging. I also need to make sure that I'm not disclosing any work product or writing something that has negative implications for my clients and cases, but thus far I haven't had much of an issue with this when writing my quirky articles. Perhaps, some day, I'll have a client that wants to demand trial by combat, at which point my scholarship will come back to haunt me. Until then, I'll continue to enjoy writing what I want.

Academic legal writing as a fun undertaking isn't discussed much, but it isn't a completely novel concept. In Scholarship As Fun, Thomas Schultz advocates for the pursuit of fun in scholarship, noting that it is likely to prompt more varied, and--on the whole--better work than scholarship motivated by other considerations:

And when we seek fun, the fun of a joyful, life-affirming, mind and heart-changing, soullifting freer existence, we are likely to engage in creative productivity. We are led to roguish experimentation, to playing legal punk, to throwing inter-temporal surrealist parties of legal thought. And all of them help us see something. As Karl Popper, and others, have suggested, for instance through the idea of truthlikeness and verisimilitude, it is quite unlikely that any given account of mostly any phenomenon is perfect, in the sense that it captures all the elements of the phenomenon and predicts with flawless accuracy what the phenomenon is going to do in a given situation. And so competing coexisting accounts of the same phenomenon are welcome, even if they are mutually exclusive; they provide a richer overall understanding, even if from the relative perspective of each the other account must be wrong. The same idea can be applied to normative theories just as it is to descriptive ones, and to anything in between, to any particular resultant of the dialectic relationship that these two opposite poles entertain (there is always some normative aesthetic prefiguration in any description, as the discussion so far has implicitly argued, and there is always some descriptive preunderstanding in a normative statement).

Other legal scholars' work seems motivated by fun more than anything--Brian Frye is probably one of the most obvious examples.

I acknowledge that the pursuit of fun may be a limited option for those in the academy--especially junior scholars. The legal academic job market is intense, with ever-increasing expectations by hiring and tenure committees that applicants publish mainstream scholarship in prestigious law reviews. Those law reviews also tend to accept scholarship that will make them look good, focusing on popular, well-trodden subjects and favoring work by well known professors.

An aside: I was an articles editor for the UCLA Law Review years ago, and I remember a submission we received from a practicing attorney. I couldn't tell you today who the author was or what the article was about, but I still remember that the article was written in an extremely formal, stilted, hypertechnical manner to the point where it was virtually unreadable. I suspect that the author didn't normally write that way, but that he had tailored his presentation to what he expected an academic publisher wanted. In doing so, he fell into the trap of writing too much like his vision of an academic, and not enough like a normal person.

Law reviews have fallen into a similar trap--they're motivated to publish too much like what they envision law reviews to be. Law reviews consider (and often prioritize) a submission's likeliness of being cited, author prestige, and the popularity of subject matter when deciding to publish a particular article. There's pressure on them to do so--few topics of discussion are more popular among established professors than lamenting their own students' fitness as publishers of legal scholarship. As a result, most journals avoid "risky" scholarship, which in turn causes scholars motivated by the job hunt or tenure prospects to abstain from writing such scholarship. The machine that encourages the publication of mainstream, traditional, and often boring scholarship perpetuates itself.

How can law reviews and authors go about rediscovering the joy of writing legal scholarship for fun? On a narrow level, I think that established professors and authors who don't face the same risks and pressures of junior scholar should do more to promote the publication of nontraditional scholarship. Professors with tenure, for example, could write about less-popular, or downright odd, subjects to shed light on these areas of the law. Where these professors go, other writers and journals will likely follow. Prestigious professors should also cite to and engage with nontraditional scholarship and authors--for example, they should consider publishing and citing to online supplements, and citing authors who aren't tenure-track law professors. And while I know from experience that it's a tall order, authors who don't face the tenure and hiring pressures of academia--say, attorneys working for law firms, the government, and nonprofit organizations--should consider writing and publishing about the subjects they love most. In order for quirky scholarship to get published, it needs to be written. It's my dream to see more practitioners getting involved in the world of legal scholarship (rather than limiting themselves to short form legal newsletters and periodicals).

On a broad level, I think that people at all levels of the legal community need to reevaluate the value of quirky legal scholarship. Articles about offhand topics may, at first, seem irrelevant, but well-written and researched scholarship may offer valuable insights and angles for thinking about more mainstream subjects and fields. Legal reasoning is, to a large extent, an art of arguing from analogies, and the more subject matter that people consider and write about, the more resources there are to make these arguments. Finally, spending time on pursuing quirky subjects--which often stem from what authors are most interested in and excited about--will likely improve the lives of those who write and consume legal scholarship.

Schauer on "Unoriginal Textualism"

 Frederick Schauer recently posted an article, Unoriginal Textualism, on SSRN. Here is the abstract:

The burgeoning debates about constitutional interpretation show no signs of abating. With surprisingly few exceptions, however, those debates involve a contrast between textualism understood as some form of originalism, on the one hand, and various varieties of less textually focused living constitutionalism, on the other. In conflating textualism with originalism, however, the existing debates ignore the possibility of a non-originalist textualism – a textualism tethered not to original intent and not to original public meaning but, instead, to contemporary public meaning – public meaning now. This article explains the plausibility of just such an “unoriginal” textualism and argues that it might serve the guidance and constraint functions of a constitution better than any of the alternatives now on offer.

This approach to constitutional interpretation is very much in line with a "present public meaning" approach suggested at the end of an article that I coauthored with Al Hiland. That article focused on difficulties that originalists face in implementing their theories--focusing, in particular, on the inability of judges and attorneys to engage in the necessary historic research to determine the original public meaning of constitutional provisions. This is a significant problem for originalists, most of whom argue (in one way or another) that the Constitution should be interpreted based on its original public meaning.

After surveying and describing obstacles to determining original public meaning and arguing that reliance on legal academics was unlikely to be the solution that some originalists hope it to be, we propose the alternate theory that rather than being bound by the original public meaning of the Constitution and its amendments, that courts be bound by the present public meaning:

In the context of this Article’s criticism, the present public meaning approach seems appealing—it avoids the need for the complicated and goal-oriented method of studying the constitutional record and the undefined, unworkable method of immersion. It likely leads to much more thorough and representative corpus linguistics analysis, as the internet enables the construction of corpora that are magnitudes more extensive and representative than those available for founding era language. And it better prevents scholars, advocates, and courts from reaching politically motivated conclusions by modernizing the basis for interpretation— allowing the general public to check or speak out against mistakes, rather than letting courts hide behind a curtain of selective historic citations. As for concerns about linguistic drift, this can be minimized by reading the text of the Constitution as a whole with an eye to relevant context thereby avoiding absurd results that originalists flag.

I tend to refer to this approach as the "present public meaning" interpretive approach (I supposed I could also refer to it as "present public meaning textualism"). Schauer refers to this as "unoriginal textualism" or "non-original textualism." 

Schauer points out that the fact that the Constitution is written does not preclude expansive and flexible interpretations--noting that Chief Justice Marshall suggested as much in McCulloch v. Maryland. Rather than seeking to be bound by the past in interpreting the Constitution--say by original intent or original public meaning--Schauer suggests that the text still be treated as authoritative, but that its meaning be determined in light of the present meaning of the text. 

After amassing examples of how the Constitution is not written to speak only to judges, but also to members of the public, Congress, jurors, and others, Schauer writes:

An important feature of these and countless other examples is that often there is no Supreme Court decision dealing with the question, and there is often neither the time nor the resources for the constrained official to try to figure out what some word or phrase or sentence was publicly understood to mean in 1787, or 1791, or 1868. As a result, if it is important that the Constitution constrain officials, and if it is important that it do so even in the absence of litigation, then it follows that it is equally important that those whom the Constitution seeks to constrain be able to understand the Constitution directly. And although the Constitution’s for all practical purposes unremediable vaguenesses may make such an aspiration a fantasy for many of the document’s most consequential provisions, it does not do so for all of them. And for those words and phrases that do have relatively determinate meanings, the constraint function can be served only if we understand the Constitution to mean now what its language means now to its addressees. This is textualism, but it is not the textualism of meanings from a century and a half to more than two centuries ago. It is the textualism of the text now, and thus of the text’s meaning now. It is the textualism that tells Congress how to count the votes of the presidential electors without having to engage in extensive historical research, just as it is the textualism that does the same for the Senate in determining how to conduct an impeachment trial, for the prosecutor deciding whether to present evidence coming from a witness not present for trial, and for any official seeking to determine what the Constitution requires under circumstances in which no court has yet authoritatively adjudicated the issue.

The argument for contemporary meaning textualism, therefore, is the argument from guidance. The most obvious manifestation of that guidance function comes when the Constitution constrains even well-meaning officials from doing what they would otherwise be inclined to do on policy or political grounds, but the guidance function is not limited to constraining. As the examples of counting electoral votes and determining impeachment procedures illustrate, guidance is applicable even when constraint, in the sense of second-order constitutional constraints on first-order policy preferences, is not at issue. But whether constraining or just instructing, the Constitution, as with any other law, is likely to operate most efficiently and effectively when its addresses know what the law requires without the intervention of the courts. If we think that “Stop” signs work best when motorists stop simply because the sign tells them to, then we can imagine the same dynamic, at one or several removes, for the Constitution. And if we believe that, then we should accept the value of a constitution that can, in theory and even sometimes in practice, guide in much the same way as the “Stop” sign guides. And for this guidance to be effective, the guiding document must speak the same language as those it addresses. Contemporary meaning textualism is based on the idea that only if we understand the language of the Constitution as it means now can those who seek guidance now know what the Constitution requires of them. [footnotes omitted]

I'm inclined to agree, and I think it is correct to consider the Constitution in a broader perspective as being interpreted by people and institutions other than the Supreme Court. Not only does a present public meaning approach better guide these actors in interpreting the Constitution, but it allows these actors to better check the Supreme Court, which--if this interpretive method were adopted--would also need to interpret the Constitution and its amendments based on the present public meaning of their provisions. Members of the general public are more likely to be able to readily critique the Court should it depart from the present public meaning of the text. Under alternate approaches, such as original public meaning originalism, the Court may use selective or incomplete citation to historic sources (or to secondary sources providing their own accounts of historic meaning) to reach a desired outcome in a particular case. Parsing through this analysis may prove difficult for the general public--certainly more difficult than evaluating analysis based on the present public meaning of constitutional text.

I'll likely have more to say in the future in support of the present public meaning approach. It's something I've considered for a while, as some of my earliest thoughts and concerns with originalism arose from how the theory renders modernization of the Constitution's meaning impossible. The present public meaning approach also appears preferable from a democratic perspective, accounting for the views of those around today, including African-Americans and women who were unable to vote on or approve any constitutional provisions or Amendments until the passage of the 15th and 19th Amendments. 

These thoughts on this interpretive approach are in their early stages, but Schauer's article represents a significant step towards this method gaining further attention and support. I can only hope that work and other circumstances permit me the time to develop these ideas before next Spring.

Candeub and Volokh on Section 230 and Removing "Otherwise Objectionable" Content From Websites

 At Volokh Conspiracy, Eugene Volokh flags a brief article that he coauthored with Adam Candeub that was recently published in the Journal of Free Speech Law. Here's the abstract:

[Communications Decency Act] Section 230(c)(2) immunizes platforms' decisions to block material that they "consider[] to be obscene, lewd, lascivious, filthy, excessively violent, harassing, or otherwise objectionable." The ejusdem generis interpretive canon suggests that "otherwise objectionable" should be read "to embrace only objects similar in nature to those objects enumerated by the preceding specific words."

In this instance, the similarity is that all those words refer to material that was traditionally viewed as regulable in electronic communications media—and was indeed regulated by the Communications Decency Act of 1996, as part of which § 230 was enacted. And restrictions on speech on "the basis of its political or religious content" were not viewed as generally permissible, even in electronic communications.

Candeub and Volokh argue that "otherwise objectionable" material should not be interpreted as a catch all category, but should instead be construed in light of the other terms in Section 230(c)(2)'s list of materials. As a result, they urge that Section 230(c)(2) be read as immunizing Internet companies and websites from restricting "obscene, lewd, lascivious, filthy, excessively violent, or harassing communications," and that the statute not be read to immunize these actors from the removal of content that is objectionable based on its political content.

I think there are several problems with this argument. With the caveats that these are my initial impressions and that it's been a while since I've done intensive research into Section 230, these concerns are listed below. I've tried to list my objections in order of most technical and specific first, followed by broader points.

First, I think the ejusdem generis interpretive canon has less power in the particular context here because Section 230(c)(2) immunizes platforms' decisions to block "otherwise objectionable" content rather than "other objectionable" content. The latter wording would be a clear example of specific terms followed by a general term, and would be in line with most examples in Candeub's and Volokh's article which involve statutes listing examples, followed by "other" things. But the way the statute is actually worded includes the term, "otherwise," which suggests material that is objectionable in ways that are distinct from the preceding examples. Candeub and Volokh do not address this, and their esjudem generis argument therefore seems stronger than the language of the statute warrants, as it implicitly reads the statute as prohibiting "other objectionable" content rather than "otherwise objectionable" content.

Second, this reading takes an overly narrow view of the purpose of the provision it analyzes and the Stratton Oakmont, Inc. v. Prodigy Services Co. case that played a significant role in prompting the inclusion of the provision. In Stratton Oakmont, the plaintiff sued a website message board for defamation based on several allegedly defamatory posts from message board users. The plaintiff alleged that the message board was liable because it exercised editorial control over the message board, noting that the site set forth detailed content guidelines that discourage the posting of "insulting" notes, as well as notes that "harass other members or are deemed to be in bad taste or grossly repugnant to community standards, or are deemed harmful to maintaining a harmonious online community" stating that such content would be removed when brought to the site's attention. The court cited this choice to engage in this editorial control as opening up the site to greater liability than other sites that did not take such measures. 

Congress was aware of this case when it passed Section 230, which Candeub and Volokh recognize. But they only focus on remarks from legislators who cite the blocking of material that is not "family-friendly," which (sort of) lines up with their restrictive reading of the statute. But this narrow focus ignores the extent of editorial restrictions at play in Stratton Oakmont, which included guidelines for the removal of "insulting," [non]-harmonious," and "bad taste" comments. It also suggests a narrow view of "family friendly," content, which may well exclude truthful, politically significant content such as images and discussions of war or terrorism, litigation and legislation over sexual privacy and abortion, and other such political content. Stratton Oakmont illustrated the danger of any sort of editorial policy giving rise to heightened liability, and Section 230(c)(2) was the response. Candeub and Volokh's narrow reading is inconsistent with this broad concern that prompted the immunity provision.

Third, a reading of the statute that removes immunity concerning the removal of political content while immunizing the removal of other content would run into significant First Amendment problems. Those who run websites or forums may have their own political preferences, and may moderate content based on these preferences. Limiting this ability would infringe on those providers' First Amendment rights--an aspect of online content moderation that is often ignored by Section 230 critics (and misinterpreters) who prefer to focus only on the purported rights of users.

To Candeub's and Volokh's credit, they recognize that the First Amendment may be relevant, but set it aside for the purpose of their article. Because of this, though, the article's analysis is in a misleading vacuum.  What is the point of this discussion about ejusdem generis if the First Amendment will ultimately require a different reading? Indeed, the First Amendment may well be relevant to discussions of interpretive canons: to the extent that the narrow reading of "otherwise objectionable" content leads to First Amendment problems, the canon of constitutional avoidance would weigh in favor of an expansive interpretation that avoids this issue.

These are my initial concerns with the conclusions in the article, but I'll be interested in seeing what others have to say--particularly those who are more involved in Section 230 research and litigation than me.

Pennsylvania State Legislator Contemplates Statewide Law Against "Distracted Walking"

A recent editorial from TN Online reports:

State Rep. Karen Boback, a Republican whose district includes parts of Luzerne and Lackawanna counties, says she is going to introduce legislation that provides penalties for walkers who are inattentive while crossing a street or highway.

In a memo to legislative colleagues seeking co-sponsors for her bill, Boback said that distracting walking is a “very real and serious issue.”

Boback is most concerned with pedestrians who are inattentive because they are engrossed in conversations on their cellphones or are listening to music or other programming.

“Technology has invaded our life, and, as a result, people have stopped paying attention to their surroundings,” Boback wrote.

More reporting on this is available at Patch. It isn't clear why Boback is choosing to take a stand against "distracted walking." The TN Online writer notes that fewer pedestrians were killed by drivers in 2020 than in 2019. Of those 145 deaths, there is no indication how many of them, if any, were due to pedestrians who were distracted. 

Seeking to do Boback's job of justifying her proposed policy, the article cites a Governors Highway Safety Association Report which purportedly shows that "texting while walking has taken on a key role in pedestrian death in recent years as communication devices have become more mobile, compact, and numerous." The article fails to link to the report, or provide a year for when it was written. It may be citing this 2016 report which speculates that pedestrian distractions are contributing to pedestrian deaths and injuries, although it explicitly states that it "remains unknown" how many pedestrians killed in crashes with distracted drivers were themselves distracted. The report cites instances and studies suggesting that pedestrian distractions are on the rise, but does not draw a link between such distractions and traffic deaths. Indeed, a New York study specifically investigating whether distracted walking contributed to pedestrian fatalities and injuries found "little concrete evidence" of a connection.

The Pennsylvania law appears to be in its early stages, as it does not appear that a statute has been drafted yet. Hopefully Boback will give the bill some more thought and conclude that it isn't worth it. Indeed, her basis for contemplating the bill appears to be anecdotal notions of technology "invading" people's lives. Reports on her proposal have to do the work themselves to dig up evidence supporting measures restricting texting while walking, and these reports often fail to confirm a link between instances of distracted walking and increased pedestrian deaths. As I have noted before, legislators seeking to prevent traffic deaths, and particularly pedestrian deaths, would do better to focus on infrastructure by making cities and towns safer for pedestrians. This includes increasing the number of crosswalks, ensuring adequate lighting, lowering speed limits, and reducing the width of streets, among other measures. Boback herself appears to have been involved in such infrastructure measures in the recent past, which makes it all the more surprising that she is seeking to put the onus on pedestrians--who are most at risk of death or serious injury. A statewide restriction on distracted walking is a blunt instrument that targets the wrong actors and ignores factors that lead to greater risks of pedestrian death and injury.

In addition to being misguided from a public safety perspective, laws against distracted walking criminalize ubiquitous behavior, which promotes selective enforcement. Many people check their phones while walking, including while crossing the street. As a result, police officers tasked with the enforcing the law will use their discretion to determine who to stop and ticket for these violations, meaning that the brunt of any law will likely fall more heavily on people in poorer neighborhoods and racial minorities.

A few cities and municipalities in the United States and other countries have banned various forms of walking while on the phone or while using other electronic devices. All of these measures target a phenomenon that most have likely observed or experienced, but which has little ultimate impact on pedestrian safety--at least when compared with other measures that legislatures can take to reduce traffic deaths and injuries. This story is notable because it suggests that a statewide ban may be possible. One can only hope that the bill, if it is ever written, will fail to gain the support necessary to become law.

Iowa's Law Targeting "Critical Race Theory"

A few weeks ago, Iowa's governor signed a law that she claimed would address the teaching of "critical race theory." Shortly after she signed the bill into law, the Des Moines Register reported:

Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds signed a new law that she said will target the teaching of critical race theory and other concepts in government diversity trainings and classroom curriculum.

“Critical Race Theory is about labels and stereotypes, not education. It teaches kids that we should judge others based on race, gender or sexual identity, rather than the content of someone’s character,” Reynolds said in a statement. “I am proud to have worked with the legislature to promote learning, not discriminatory indoctrination.”

Critical race theory, a decades-old legal theory that examines how slavery's legacy continues to influence American society, is not specifically named in the new legislation. But the law would ban teaching certain concepts, such as that the U.S. or Iowa is systemically racist.

The new law, House File 802, goes into effect July 1.

Reynolds' signing comes as other Republicans across the country have said they want to eliminate teaching critical race theory and associated concepts from classrooms. Iowa is among more than a dozen states that have considered legislation this year aimed at eliminating similar concepts from classroom curriculum.

That same Register article notes that Iowa's law is based "nearly word for word" on an executive order issued by the Trump Administration (that is now repealed) that banned certain forms of diversity training for federal contractors. The Register's prior reporting on that order is here, the order itself is here.

There are a number of glaring practical problems with the law, which appear to be based, in part, on the bill's origin in a ban on training for contractors. For one, the law contains no penalty or disciplinary provisions, so it is unclear what would result from a violation of the law. The bill also includes prohibitions on certain types of training, but also includes restrictions for school curricula. While the restrictions on training are somewhat explicit, the restrictions on school districts and their curricula are woefully vague.

These defects, and others, are addressed in the remainder of this post, which walks through the law and tries to make sense of what is being restricted.

The Third Amendment in 2020

I recently posted a working version of a short article I'm writing to SSRN. It is meant to be the first in a yearly series of articles on the Third Amendment. This article surveys how the Third Amendment was cited and referenced in 2020--from cases and Third Amendment claims by litigants, to citations in academic legal writing. It also addresses popular coverage of the Third Amendment, which was surprisingly active in 2020.

The abstract is below:

This Article is the first in a series of yearly articles analyzing references, discussion, and applications of the Third Amendment in court, legal scholarship, and popular media and commentary. The Third Amendment’s prohibition on the quartering of soldiers in houses during peacetime, and its requirement that quartering during times of war be authorized by law is not typically discussed (or even known) by most in the legal field. This Article and its future iterations aim to address this neglect by surveying references to the Third Amendment and noting trends in its invocation and discussion across all aspects of the legal field.

As it turns out, the Third Amendment had a bit of a moment in 2020, drawing brief but widespread public attention in early June. A dispute between the mayor of Washington, DC and National Guard soldiers over whether they could be housed in a particular hotel led to a great deal of speculation over whether the Third Amendment would be invoked and, if so, whether it would apply to the dispute. While no litigation ended up taking place, this incident brought more attention than usual to this neglected component of the Bill of Rights. This Article describes the dispute, surveys the commentary, and evaluates whether a Third Amendment claim could have even been made in the first place.

Beyond this, the Article surveys citations and trends in arguments invoking the Third Amendment in 2020 case law and legal scholarship. The Third Amendment’s restrictions on the practice are often cited to demonstrate a constitutional right to privacy and to substantiate claims that the Constitution and its Bill of Rights were designed to protect civilians against overbearing military and governmental authority. Additionally, it tends to be a go-to citation for litigants who claim that their rights were violated and who want to throw every argument they have at the court. This Article provides a comprehensive breakdown of Third Amendment citations in the case law, and evaluates arguments invoking the Third Amendment in 2020 legal scholarship.

While the Third Amendment doesn’t get the respect or attention given to adjacent amendments, this Article serves as a first step toward a systematic understanding of the Third Amendment’s role in case law, legal scholarship, and broader society.

I've written about the Third Amendment here several times in the past--most recently last summer. In prior years, I took a critical approach towards scholarship on the Third Amendment and evaluated whether such scholarship was worth publishing. 

Now, nearly eight years later, I think there's a place for Third Amendment scholarship. Writers should take a subtle approach and see what lessons about broader issues and practices can be drawn from patterns of Third Amendment citation and use. Stretching the Third Amendment beyond its breaking point to apply it to situations is not the way to breathe life back into the amendment--even if the argument turns out to be novel.

The article is still a draft, so any comments or feedback are welcome.

How Many Times Can a Complaint Be Amended?

This post aims to answer a simple question: what is the highest number of amendments to a complaint that has ever been allowed by a court in the United States?

A bit of background first. This post concerns civil litigation, where plaintiffs typically file a complaint setting forth various causes of action against defendants who have allegedly wronged them. These complaints are often amended. Sometimes plaintiffs add or remove parties. Plaintiffs may also add or remove causes of action or factual allegations in support of their causes of action. A defendant may move to dismiss a complaint, and if they succeed, the court may grant the plaintiff leave to file an amended complaint. Granting leave to amend at least once is common--unless a defendant has clearly demonstrated that a plaintiff's case is completely futile, a court will likely give the plaintiff another shot.

While many cases I've litigated have involved amended, second amended, or even fourth amended complaints, I was curious about the maximum number of amendments courts have allowed. A first amended complaint isn't too hard for a plaintiff to get. But when a court is confronted with a complaint that has been drafted and redrafted multiple times, the probability that the court will give a plaintiff yet another chance decreases.

From my exhaustive research (searching for "tenth amended complaint" and increasing the numbers until I could find no further results), it appears that the most amended complaint on record was amended twenty-two times.  The case is Mirarchi v. Boockvar, and it's a recent one--with the original complaint filed on January 12, 2021 in the US District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania (case no. 5:21-CV-00126). A publicly-accessible link to the docket is here.

I've answered the question I set out to investigate, but I dug into the case itself, as I was curious about what would give rise to so many amendments. For those of you brave enough to dive into that nonsense, read on:

Does the Constitution Prohibit DC Statehood?

With the Democratic party in control of the House and Senate, discussions have been picking up over whether the District of Columbia will be granted statehood.  Proponents argue that residents of the District, many of whom are African American, lack sufficient representation in Congress and the Senate, and point to the fact that DC's population is larger than Wyoming, which has a representative and two senators.  Critics argue that DC statehood is a political effort to increase the number of Democratic senators.  

Politically charged debates often prompt accusations of unconstitutionality by one side or the other, even if the Constitution truly has no say on the matter. Critics of DC statehood are advancing such arguments, exemplified by this article published yesterday by the Wall Street Journal's Editorial Page.

The WSJ Editorial Board's primary argument is that the Constitution mandates that DC remain a district that is not a state, and Democratic statehood proposals violate this provision of the Constitution:

Fashioning an independent seat of government in a federal system while affording representation to its residents is a dilemma dating to the founding. The Framers provided in the Constitution’s Article I that Congress could, “by cession of particular states,” control a small area in which the federal government would operate. In 1790 part of the territories of Virginia and Maryland, two of the 13 states that ratified the Constitution, were delineated for federal control.

Advocates of statehood brush aside the constitutional concerns and frame their cause as a simple question of democracy. It’s true that the roughly 700,000 residents of the District don’t have the ability to elect voting Members of Congress. Many hold influence over the federal government as employees and contractors or in other positions, and in the Founding era proximity to the seat of power was itself considered a form of representation.

 

Yet the natural remedy for the imperfect status quo, if representation is the real concern, would be for Congress to do something it has done before—return part of the District to the state that ceded it in the first place. That’s what happened in 1846 when Congress reinstated Virginia’s control over the D.C. suburbs of Arlington and Alexandria.

 . . .

There could be constitutional challenges to retrocession to Maryland. But the creation of an independent state to supplant the District, as the current House legislation proposes, is certainly unconstitutional. The Founders deliberately created a federal district under the control of Congress because it didn’t want the federal government to be subject to the sway of any one state. Statehood imposed by statute would strip Congress of one of its enumerated powers—effectively amending the Constitution without an amendment process.

Others advance similar claims that the Constitution "mandated" creation of the District of Columbia. They all appear to be citing Article I, Section 8, Clause 17 of the Constitution, which provides that:

The Congress shall have the power . . . [t]o exercise exclusive legislation in all cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten miles square) as may, by cession of particular states, and the acceptance of Congress, become the seat of the government of the United States, and to exercise like authority over all places purchased by the consent of the legislature of the state in which the same shall be, for the erection of forts, magazines, arsenals, dockyards, and other needful buildings

First, these arguments do not appear to have any force against what Democrats are proposing. Democrats are not advocating the complete elimination of the District described in the Constitution. Instead, they are proposing that the District be limited to a much smaller area, with the rest of DC becoming a separate state. The Constitution does mandate a particular location or size (beyond a maximum size) for the District, and shrinking the District is therefore consistent with this constitutional provision.

But critics' arguments run into an even more fundamental problem--they are based on an assumption that the Constitution mandates the creation of the District of Columbia. This is not apparent from the language of Article I, which grants a power to Congress to exercise exclusive legislation over whatever District "as may" become the seat of the United States' government. This isn't to say that creating such a District isn't a good idea, as certain founders recognized. But permitting Congress to exercise a particular power is a far cry from mandating that Congress do so.

I suspect that this reading of Article I is inconsistent with most of these same critics' approach to other provisions of Article I, like Congress's power to regulate commerce. Conservatives have long opposed extensive application of Article I's Commerce Clause to federal legislation governing sales transactions that take place within a single state. In opposing broad application of the commerce clause, they argue that the founders sought to create a limited federal government, and that Article I should be interpreted as providing a limited set of powers that Congress may exercise. This constrained reading of Congress's power is undermined by the more aggressive reading in the District of Columbia Context--the assertion that Congress must create a District to serve as the seat of the federal government.

Critics of DC statehood may also contend that the founders never intended for Washington D.C. to be a state, as Senator Mike Rounds did earlier in March:

The Founding Fathers never intended for Washington D.C. to be a state.#DCStatehood is really about packing the Senate with Democrats in order to pass a left-wing agenda.

Just look at the DC voter registration data:
🔵 76.4% Democrat
🔴 5.7% Republican

— Senator Mike Rounds (@SenatorRounds) March 22, 2021

Responses to this particular tweet have been largely cheeky--noting that Senator Rounds represents South Dakota, which was not a state at the time of the founding. These responses miss the point.

The response, instead, should be that based on what the Constitution says, it appears that there was an expectation that there would be a District, but whether that district would be DC, or whether it could ever change in size or location (other than remaining below 10 square miles) appears to be an open question. 

Moreover, proponents of originalist methodology should scold Senator Rounds for his shoddy attempt at engaging in originalist analysis. Virtually all originalist scholars will tell you that modern originalism focuses on the original public meaning of constitutional provisions--not on the intentions of the founders. When left-wing commentators refer to the original intent of the founders in criticizing originalism, they are met with a flurry of indignant responses from academic originalists. I haven't seen a similar set of responses to Senator Rounds' tweet though. Perhaps I missed them.

In the end, DC statehood is a political debate. Critics and proponents of statehood may try bringing the Constitution into the picture, but these efforts are misguided do nothing more than muddy the waters.

EDIT - APRIL 22, 2021

I have left out a discussion of whether DC statehood violates the 23rd Amendment, a secondary argument that the WSJ advances and that others focus on in more detail elsewhere. While I avoided discussion of the 23rd Amendment issue to save space, it is not apparent that DC statehood would violate the amendment, which grants DC electors in the electoral college. While the size of the district may be reduced, this would not undermine the appointment of electors. And DC statehood is certainly not inconsistent with the spirit of the 23rd Amendment, which is to grant political representation to those in the District--statehood would permit residents to have not only representation in executive elections, but in the legislature as well. If statehood passes and the three electoral votes for the shrunken district remain a widespread concern, the 23rd Amendment may be repealed should it be deemed no longer necessary.

Experiments with ScholarSift: An Interesting, But Opaque Platform

A few days ago, I wrote about Brian Frye's article in Techdirt where he discussed ScholarSift, a new platform for legal research. A broader discussion of that platform and my concerns with it are in my earlier post--in short, users can submit an article on ScholarSift (either a draft article of theirs, or a copy of a completed article), and the platform analyzes the text and citations to return "relevant" results. Notably, the platform highlights relevant results that are not included in the citations, which may help direct writers to authors and articles that they may have otherwise missed in their research.

I ended up getting credentials to try out the system and submitted a few articles--both draft articles and completed articles. It was an mixed experience. For the drafts that I submitted, I found a few articles that I had not tracked down in my research thus far. And for some of the articles I tried out, there was a nice diversity of results, although it was sometime difficult to sort through the long list of results that some of the articles generated. While the organization of results was sometime unclear and difficult to sift through, the ability to filter between journal articles, books, and cases was a welcome feature. The basis for the organization remained unclear though--with little more indication of why results were listed in a particular order beyond a vague "relevance" criterion that was measured in unknown degrees.

Some articles I tried out caused the system to turn out some odd, unhelpful results. I submitted one article, a draft paper surveying state self-defense laws and applying philosophical takes on freedom of belief to determine the ideal approach to this area of the law. The draft included a few pages that discussed the phenomena of self-defense in cases where the defendant was trapped in a cycle of domestic abuse and violence prior to killing their domestic partner and whether that history of abuse may factor into the defendant's mindset--a scenario that much of the literature describes as the "battered woman" defense. The "battered woman" phrase seemed to have a disproportionate impact on the results that were generated as nearly all of the articles and cases addressed this phenomenon, even though that discussion was only a small portion of the article itself. I suspect this may have been a result of the contents of the database of articles from which ScholarSift draws its results, or it may have been because the "battered woman" phrase was repeated several times in the text and citations (although the phrase "self-defense" was used even more frequently).

I also submitted my article, Shooting Fish, to see how the platform might respond to an article on an unconventional topic with a wide range of statutory citations. The results brought back a disproportionate number of articles about fishing rights and practices in the context of American Indian tribes. This was, admittedly, an area I did not address in the article. I made the decision not to explore tribal laws partly because I wanted to limit the scope of the article (for the same reason, I relegate my discussion of federal restrictions to under a page). I also am not as familiar with tribal law and was concerned that I would not be able to conduct systematic and thorough research of those laws. While I acknowledge that ScholarSift fulfilled its purpose of identifying an area of the literature that I did not address, it's overwhelming focus on that area of literature ended up crowding out other results that were related to laws and issues that I did address in the article. The platform did generate several relevant results (I was familiar with several of the articles it generated from research I'd done in related areas), but the disproportionate focus on literature related to American Indian laws, treaties, and rights made the results a bit more difficult to navigate. 

Other articles I submitted suggested that there's still a way to go with the database. I submitted a draft article I'm writing on trial by combat in American law--the results ended up being all over the map. While trial by combat is not a subject of common discussion in modern legal literature, it is addressed more frequently in history articles. While I occasionally got results for some papers from journals outside the legal field (some different articles I submitted resulted in citations to medical and psychological journal articles), historic literature on trial by combat was conspicuously absent from the results. 

Similarly, I submitted an article on pew rights and related legal disputes to stress-test the database's capabilities. The results ended up being as helpful as I could have expected. There was a lot of First Amendment literature in the results that did not really match up, but I was pleasantly surprised by the number of hits for articles discussing intra-church disputes and court treatment of canon law.

I also noticed that I kept having to sign out and log back in after every two or three article searches. This was not a substantial burden, but it made me feel judged.  Perhaps I was offending the system with the bizarre articles I was submitting.

From my experience so far, I stand by my the conclusions in my earlier post. I think that ScholarSift is a useful tool to have available for legal research and writing. At this stage, it certainly is not sufficient to serve as the only tool--after all, it is designed to analyzed near-complete drafts to determine what sources and citations are already missing, and authors need to be able to do the research to get to that stage of the draft. I still have qualms with how the platform works--the metrics behind the "relevancy" determinations remain entirely unclear, as do the contents of the database from which the platform draws. If ScholarSift's database continues to expand to older works and articles in non-legal fields, it will be a welcome addition to other research platforms that are currently available.

Citations, Hierarchies, and Algorithms in Legal Scholarship

I read Brian Frye's Techdirt article, "It's the End of Citation As We Know It & I Feel Fine," where he makes the bold claim that the "worst thing about legal scholarship is the footnotes." In a field where article lengths are expanding to 100 pages and beyond, where costly submission software crowds out students and professionals who are outside of the academy, and where journals will publish anything--even ridiculous articles about shooting fish with guns, there is serious competition for the title of what aspect of legal scholarship is "the worst."

I won't deny that footnotes in legal scholarship can be a bit overwhelming for the uninitiated, and that some editors demand citations for everything under the sun. But I'm not sure that the footnote craze is as horrible as Frye makes it out to be. To start, I suspect that the focus on footnotes originates, at least in part, with the legal writing that many law students will go on to prepare in practice, in which arguments referencing cases and statutes require frequent citations to support the claims being made. To the extent that law review articles--particularly those with a more doctrinal focus like 50-state surveys of laws governing the shooting of fish with guns--include citations to case law or statutes, those footnotes should be encouraged to confirm that the legal claim being made has a basis in legal authority. 

Even when citations are to scholarly, rather than legal, authorities, frequent footnotes can be helpful. They maybe a resource for those doing research in the area to find related scholarship on particular issues. They can serve as a substitute for literature reviews, reducing the length of what may already be a too-long piece. Footnotes to scholarship may also provide a barometer as to the legitimacy of claims being made. Overreliance on single sources, or--God forbid--citations to one's own work may undermine claims that are presented as well-established. Finally, numerous, repetitive, and useless footnotes, (I'm thinking especially of introduction footnotes beginning with "See infra Section __"), should be dealt with by the author, who can refuse to include such footnotes in the initial draft and who can (and should) push back on editors who demand such useless additions.

Frye turns to a discussion of ScholarSift, a platform created by Rob Anderson and Trent Wenzel, that purports to analyze legal scholarship to "identify the most relevant articles." From what little I can find out about ScholarSift, people can upload an article (either a draft, completed, or already-published article) and the system locates "relevant" articles based on analysis of the article's text and citations. 

Frye suggests that ScholarSift could be used as a substitute for footnotes by finding sources that are similar or relevant to the text being analyzed. This does not seem feasible, as the software appears to be built around connecting authors to similar, or "relevant" sources based on the whole of a draft. It does not appear that the system is designed to connect one particular statement or proposition in an article to a source (or sources) that support that statement--instead, it generates a list of "related" articles (and, I think, cases, laws, and maybe books) that are "relevant" to the article as a whole. Replacing footnotes with this program would be similar to a law review article listing a bibliography at the end and telling the reader to look through all the sources to confirm whether the article's contents are accurate. As much work as sorting through footnotes may be, this approach sounds like much more of a burden.

(I admit that I do not have a ScholarSift account--which you apparently can only get by submitting a request by email. If my description of how the system's use of submissions to generate results is therefore incorrect, I welcome corrections.)

But Frye's discussion of ScholarSift raises some interesting notions about how it may assist in legal research help legal scholarship as a whole.  Frye writes:

It works really well. As far as I can tell, ScholarSift is kind of like Turnitin in reverse. It compares the text of a law review article to a huge database of law review articles and tells you which ones are similar. Unsurprisingly, it turns out that machine learning is really good at identifying relevant scholarship. And ScholarSift seems to do a better job at identifying relevant scholarship than pricey legacy platforms like Westlaw and Lexis.

 

One of the many cool things about ScholarSift is its potential to make legal scholarship more equitable. In legal scholarship, as everywhere, fame begets fame. All too often, fame means the usual suspects get all the attention, and it’s a struggle for marginalized scholars to get the attention they deserve. Unlike other kinds of machine learning programs, which seem almost designed to reinforce unfortunate prejudices, ScholarSift seems to do the opposite, highlighting authors who might otherwise be overlooked. That’s important and valuable. I think Anderson and Wenzel are on to something, and I agree that ScholarSift could improve citation practices in legal scholarship.

I'm a bit less optimistic than Frye about ScholarSift, largely because I cannot find any information on how it works, it is unclear what database of documents ScholarSift pulls from, and I am concerned that to the extent that it relies on a database of legal scholarship, the hierarchical problems that Frye identifies in his article may still be imported into results. 

Regarding the lack of information, ScholarSift's website contains virtually no information about how the system operates. I have not been able to locate additional written information on ScholarSift anywhere else--although my search for such information was admittedly a cursory one. I located, and listened to, this Ipse Dixit podcast interview of Rob Anderson who describes how ScholarSift works. But, as is the case with the website, the information is presented in largely conclusory terms--describing how the system will "look at" the text and citations of an article uploaded to it and analyze "relationships" between other articles to sift through a database of "a few hundred thousand articles" and list results in an order of what is most "closely-related." It remains unclear how "relevance" or "closely-related" determinations are made, although it appears that this is done through an analysis of the text, including commonly used words, phrases, and maybe combinations and/or proximities of words or phrases to one another.

The makeup of ScholarSift's database of articles and sources is also unclear. The contents of the database, how determinations are made on what to include, and the age of what is included are all mysterious. On the podcast, Anderson notes that scholars using the platform can upload their own drafts or articles to ensure that they are part of the database, but I expect this would only account for a small portion of what makes up the database. Without more information on the database, its contents, and how its contents are selected, it is impossible to conclude that ScholarSift can conduct exhaustive searches of potentially relevant material.

Finally, Frye and Anderson note that ScholarSift may help break down hierarchy problems in legal academia, where big names from prestigious institutions tend to be overcited, and where the body of scholarship consists largely of articles written by white, male authors. If the processes for locating "relevant" article truly focus on an article's text, perhaps the platform will have some impact. But I have my doubts. 

First, the platform is meant to analyze articles and their citations in locating relevant results (although this will supposedly change as the system develops). If citations are included as inputs, though, they will influence the searches, and authors' biases in selecting their own sources will likely be reflected in the results. 

Second, related to my concern about the database's contents, ScholarSift presumably draws from a body of scholarship in legal academia, in which white male authors are overrepresented (especially if historical writing is taken into account). Even if determinations of relevance are based on the text of submissions and articles in the database, this will still result in results skewing towards white males if they make up the bulk of what is included in the database. 

Third, Anderson notes that there will be features permitting searchers to filter results in various ways, including by high citation rates. This suggests that the system at least includes information on articles' citation rates, and this information may influence what results are deemed "relevant"--which may in turn continue to perpetuate hierarchies of overciting authors from the most prestigious institutions. This last concern is, admittedly, speculative, but without information on how the algorithm works, this concern shouldn't be dismissed. Additionally, as the program develops (and, especially, if it is used to generate a profit), there may be pressure to prioritize results that account for the "prestige" of an author or publications--which could defeat the very purpose of the platform.

If ScholarSift is truly text-focused (as Frye describes, "Turnitin in reverse"), it may have a positive impact on legal research and lead to increased diversity in citations. Hopefully that will be the case. And Anderson notes that ScholarSift may end up being an alternate mean for submitting articles to law reviews--an outcome I would be happy to see. I think it is still early days and that it is too soon to be overly optimistic. But ScholarSift may be worth watching and including as one of many tools used by authors of legal scholarship.