Peter Friedman
Lawyer
Ruling Imagination: Law and Creativity
Free markets and the end of education as we know it
I’ve mentioned it before — I have watched through the course of my professional career as free market ideology has come to dominate legal thought. But it isn’t merely that many legal thinkers and politicians believe that so-called “economic efficiency” is the overriding purpose of law. Capitalist absolutism infects my teaching too because I am now teaching students who have grown up during a time in which they have learned never even to question the belief that markets are better than government at providing anything and everything.
As a result, fewer and fewer students arrive at law school with the kind of education I think is the best preparation. They come as business majors, poli sci majors, accounting majors, finance majors . . . Some come as engineers, and they tend to be the best educated, albeit a bit narrowly, but invariably they believe backgrounds in engineering put them behind the others.
Why this change, this narrowing in outlook? It’s the attitude Stanley Fish writes about today — the unquestioned acceptance that maximizing “student choice” provides the best means of improving education. It’s the same market thinking in another place — students are consumers, and if we leave to them the choice of what to pursue, those educational institutions that are chosen by the most students will be the most rewarded. And, of course, what students choose must be the most valued and therefore the best. Fish explains this thinking while cogently explaining its most fundamental defect — students don’t have the judgment to make good choices. Education is precisely about teaching them such judgment:
Judgment is what education is supposed to produce; if students possessed it at the get-go, there would be nothing for courses and programs to do.” But that objection would be entirely beside the point in the context of the assumption . . . that what students want to get from participating in higher education is money.
But now, under Britain’s new approach to higher education, “government support of higher education in the form of block grants to universities (which are free to allocate funds as they see fit) would be replaced by monies given directly to matriculating students, who would then vote with their pocketbooks by choosing which courses to ‘invest’ in.”
The problem, of course, is that the only measure of value such a mindset accepts is money:
A course’s “key selling point” will be “that it provides improved employability” and students will be asked to pay “higher charges” for a course only “if there is a proven path to higher earnings.”
Not only is this attitude remarkably narrow about what constitutes value. It also assumes that the only people interested in the results of our educational system are people who go through it. There’s no social interest in education apart from the sum total of the financial interests of those student-consumers:
The logic is the logic of privatization. Higher education is no longer conceived of as a public good — as a good the effects of which permeate society — but is rather a private benefit, and as such it should be supported by those who enjoy the benefit. “It is reasonable to ask those who gain private benefits from higher education to help fund it rather than rely . . . on public funds collected through taxation from people who have not participated in higher education themselves.” No one who has not been to a university has any stake in the health or survival of the system.
I couldn’t agree with Fish more on the pathetic narrow-mindedness of this “logic of privatization”:
There is no recognition . . . at all of the value of learning; quality is a measure nowhere referenced; civilization, as far as one can see, will have to take care of itself.
But at second thought this paean of self-praise is merited once we remember that that the report’s relentless monetization of everything in sight has redefined its every word: value now means return on the dollar; quality of life now means the number of cars or houses you can buy; a civilized society is a society where the material goods a society offers can be enjoyed by more people.
I was a double major in Latin and Ancient Greek. Classics departments are disappearing, and the “privatization” of education will only accelerate their disappearance. I did not pursue a Ph.D. merely because my job prospects after the 6 or so years I would have loved getting that degree were virtually non-existent. But I wouldn’t trade my education for anything. It made me the successful lawyer I am. I find myself returning again and again to what I learned and to further study in my current professional life about matters that I first discovered in my undergraduate years. And I genuinely think that my education taught me that value is something money can barely begin to measure in any meaningful way.
John Lanchester’s I.O.U. is a book I would encourage all my students to read. One more piece of conventional wisdom too many of them accept without question is that what happened and continues to happen in the financial markets (matters I learned of first-hand in the course of my near 12 years in practice) are too difficult for even the brightest people to understand. That is a piece of mystification that people who profited from the financial markets (at the profound expense of the rest of us) would prefer my students not look behind. Lanchester does a terrific job of explicating the causes of the 2008 financial crisis and the persistence of those causes today.
But what’s disturbing about what Lanchester writes in the context of this post is his realization that the financial crisis resulted from precisely what I am writing of — a generation during which we have come to really believe that communism fell and capitalism triumphed because of the unalloyed power of free markets. It’s not at all that Lanchester (or I) are advocates of communism. He is explicit in arguing that the liberal democracies of the 20th Century’s 2d half were the best societies that ever existed. But the pressure communism put on those societies to balance market forces with programs that promoted social justice were an indispensable part of those societies’ enormous success. With the fall of communism and the removal of that pressure, free markets have found an ideological open field in which those programs promoting social justice are being dismantled. As Dwight Garner explains in his review of I.O.U.:
It’s a story that begins, as these stories are wont to do, with the fall of the Berlin Wall. The capitalist West won its “ideological beauty contest” with the communist East, Mr. Lanchester writes, which was good news except for this: Suddenly “there was no global antagonist to point at and jeer at the rise in the number and size of the fat cats; there was no embarrassment about allowing the rich to get so much richer so very quickly.”
Once upon a time in America and Britain, he observes, “the jet engine of capitalism was harnessed to the ox cart of social justice, to much bleating from the advocates of pure capitalism, but with the effect that the Western liberal democracies became the most admired societies that the world had ever seen.”
Then the Wall crumbled, and “the jet engine was unhooked from the ox cart and allowed to roar off at its own speed. The result was an unprecedented boom, which had two big things wrong with it: It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t sustainable.”
And it leads to poorly educated students and unhappy people.
A National Public Library? There’s nothing to stop it other than a lack of political will to do anything useful.
Robert Darnton calls for a National Digital Library — “a digital library composed of virtually all the books in our greatest research libraries available free of charge to the entire citizenry, in fact, to everyone in the world.” I agree with him that the project is neither naive nor utopian. Several countries have already committed themselves to the creation of their own national digital libraries:
In December 2009 President Nicolas Sarkozy of France announced that he would make €750 million available for digitizing the French cultural “patrimony.” The National Library of the Netherlands aims to digitize within ten years every Dutch book, newspaper, and periodical produced from 1470 to the present. National libraries in Japan, Australia, Norway, and Finland are digitizing virtually all of their holdings; and Europeana, an effort to coordinate digital collections on an international scale, will have made over ten million objects—from libraries, archives, museums, and audiovisual holdings—freely accessible online by the end of 2010.
Darnton concludes that the U.S. “should be possible to digitize everything in the Library of Congress for less than Sarkozy’s €750 million—and the cost could be spread out over a decade.” And he therefore sees the legal issues — particularly dealing with “orphan works” – as the principal barrier to a U.S. National Digital Library.
Unfortunately, I disagree with Darnton regarding the main impediment. As I’ve explained “orphan works” are “works whose copyright holders cannot be identified, a common problem because there is no registry of copyrights and the authors of the books are not necessarily the copyright holders. Rather, the copyright holders might include unidentifiable heirs or even corporate entities that have gone through mergers, 
dissolutions, or other forms of corporate reorganization that make it difficult or impossible to identify the entity that currently owns the copyright.” I’m not sure I see any particular problem with Congress enacting legislation amending the Copyright Act to authorize a National Public Library to use works whose copyright owners cannot be identified under terms that provide for reasonable compensation when and if owners make and establish their claims.
I think, however, the cost is a real impediment in the current economic climate. €750 million is almost $1 billion. While the U.S. military budget for 2010 totals approximately 685 times this amount, the current political climate hardly seems ripe for Congress to take the initiative on a project that would strike much of the citizenry — and certainly most U.S. politicians — as intellectual frivolity. It isn’t, of course, but one can be sure that massive confusion over the rights of authors (as I’ve touched on here, among other places) could be used to demagogue to death a billion dollar project longed for by a bunch of professors.
Retired Justice John Paul Stevens: the death penalty does us no good.
In the New York Review of Books, in the course of reviewing David Garland’s Peculiar Institution: America’s Death Penalty in an Age of Abolition, retired Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens provides a critique of the continuing utility and wisdom of the death penalty.
Any human institution is better understood if one understands its history. I’ve often made this point in connection with our understanding of what it means to be an author, a creator, or an artist. But the point is a general one and quite plainly also applicable to an understanding of the death penalty, which, as Justice Stevens points out, “has roots in gruesome and public spectacles: unspeakable torture and postmortem desecrations of offenders’ remains designed, respectively, to maximize suffering and exalt the omnipotence of the sovereign.”
The increasing availability of deportation and imprisonment as a means of coping with people deemed undesirable by the sovereign, however, led to a reduction in executions, a new found concern with making executions more humane, and, eventually, the “lengthy and elaborate legal process [that] has become a central feature of American capital punishment.” As a result, several people have been executed over 20 years after their crimes, and some prisoners have now been on death row for over 30 years. Garland concludes that “[s]uch delays do not just undermine the death penalty’s deterrent effect; they also spoil its capacity for satisfying retribution.” He also believes that efforts t o make executions more humane similarly minimize the deterrent and retributive qualities of the death penalty:
What once was a frightening public spectacle now resembles painless administration of preoperative anesthesia in the presence of few witnesses. American officials do not enjoy executions; “they seem, in short, embarrassed, as if caught in a transgression.”
Nevertheless, in the U.S., the political strength of localities relative to the federal government has led to the retention of the death penalty, which has disappeared from Western Europe. There is a long history of community-level executions in America dating to colonial times. Thus, in reaction to Furman v. Georgia, 408 U.S. 238 (1972), the 1972 Supreme Court case resulting in a moratorium on executions in the forty-two jurisdictions that authorized them, 34 states enacted new death penalty laws by 1980. Much of the political rhetoric behind the new capital punishment laws was grounded in “states’ rights,” the all purpose justification for resistance to nationwide standards going back to slavery and, as Justice Stevens points out, “like the related vigorous and continuing criticism of liberal Warren Court decisions protecting the rights of criminal defendants and minority voters, an important part of the Republican Party’s ‘Southern strategy.’” Because of this unintended consequence of Furman, Garland argues that since the 70s
[T]he Supreme Court [has] focused on transforming capital punishment, requiring new procedural protections, reducing the cruelty of executions, and devolving power to “the people” at the local level. The concern with local policymaking that Garland emphasizes, however, has not prevented Supreme Court decisions from eliminating categories of defendants (juveniles and the mentally retarded) and offenses (rape and unintentional killings) from exposure to capital punishment nationwide.
The persistence of the death penalty in the U.S., however, begs for explanation. Garland’s explanation is largely cultural. The persistence of the death penalty satisfies a cultural need to address issues pertaining to death:
Garland concludes that capital punishment today is “reasonably well adapted to the purposes that it serves, but deterrent crime control and retributive justice are not prominent among them.” Instead, the death penalty promotes “gratifications,” of “professional and political users, of the mass media, and of its public audience.” In particular, he contends, capital punishment derives “its emotional power, its popular interest, and its perennial appeal” from five types of “death penalty discourse.” They are: (1) political exploitation of the gap between the Furman decision and popular opinion; (2) adversarial legal proceedings featuring cultural tensions between capital punishment and liberal humanism; (3) the political association of capital punishment with larger political and cultural issues, such as civil rights, states’ rights, and crime control; (4) demands for revenge; and (5) the emotional power of imagining killing and death. He concludes that “the American death penalty has been transformed from a penal instrument that puts persons to death to a peculiar institution that puts death into discourse for political and cultural purposes.”
The cultural importance of death in American political and cultural life is illustrated by political avowals for support for capital punishment to express support for “law and order.” Thus, “California Senator Barbara Boxer bragged that she voted 100 times for the death penalty. And George W. Bush first ran for president in a year when, as governor of Texas, he had presided over the largest number of state executions ever carried out in a single twelve-month period—a total of forty in the year 2000.” Where judges are elected and have the power to overrule jury verdicts, as in Alabama, they override and impose the death penalty 10 times more often than they override to impose a punishment other than death. In contrast, where judges with the power to overrule jury verdicts are not subject to election, judge-imposed verdicts favor defendants. In short, if you want to get elected to office in the U.S., it is a good idea to support the death penalty.
Justice Stevens does not believe, however, that the political and cultural interests advanced by the death penalty can justify its continued vitality. Nor does he see any justification for it in the 5 groups of people affected by it – victims, survivors, participants in the judicial process, the general public, and the defendants themselves:
To be reasonable, legislative imposition of death eligibility must be rooted in benefits for at least one of the five classes of persons affected by capital offenses.
First, of course, are victims. By definition murder victims are no longer alive and so have no continuing interest.
Second are survivors—family and close friends of victims who often suffer enormous grief and tangible losses. The harm to this class is immeasurable; but punishment of the defendant cannot reverse or adequately compensate any survivor’s loss. An execution may provide revenge and therapeutic benefits. But important as that may be, it cannot alone justify death sentences. We do not, after all, execute drunken drivers who cause fatal accidents.
Third are participants in judicial processes that end in executions—detectives, prosecutors, witnesses, judges, jurors, defense counsel, investigators, clemency board members, and the medically trained personnel who carry out the execution process and whom Garland describes as being somewhat embarrassed by doing so. While support of the death penalty wins votes for some elected officials, all participants in the process must realize the monumental costs that capital cases impose on the judicial system. The financial costs (which Garland estimates are at least double those of noncapital murder cases) are obvious; seldom mentioned is the impact on the conscientious juror obliged to make a life-or-death decision despite residual doubts about a defendant’s guilt.
The fourth category consists of the general public. If Garland’s comprehensive analysis is accurate—that the primary public benefits of the death penalty are “political exchange and cultural consumption”—and as long as the remedy of life imprisonment without the possibility of parole is available, those partisan and cultural considerations provide woefully inadequate justifications for putting anyone to death.
Fifth, of course, is the class of thousands of condemned inmates on death row who spend years in solitary confinement awaiting their executions. Many of them have repented and made positive contributions to society. The finality of an execution always ends that possibility. More importantly, that finality also includes the risk that the state may put an actually innocent person to death.
Friedman to judges and lawyers: don’t “friend” or “tweet” one another!
Ohio is one of the first states to address the use of social networking by judges. As explained by the Ohio Supreme Court on its web site, an opinion issued 2 days ago [embedded below] by the Ohio Board of Commissioners on Grievances & Discipline “advises judges that social media use is permitted but must be done with caution, and it offers wide ranging, specific guidance to judges on how to navigate the new waters of social media without violating judicial canons that require judges to avoid even the appearance of bias or impropriety.”
My reaction to the opinion — that judges ought to avoid entirely engaging in social media communications with anyone who is or may be a lawyer or a litigant in cases before them — is one people close to me would describe as “paranoid.” Perhaps I’m just risk averse. I think, though, that I’m principally concerned with integrity.
The issue is one that pertains to what are known as “ex parte communciations” — communication between a lawyer or a litigant with the judge without the presence or participation of the adversaries to the lawsuit in which the lawyer or litigant is appearing before the judge. Ex parte communications, except under very limited circumstances all of which ensure notification to the adversaries as soon as practicable, are absolutely forbidden. Our legal system is founded on its adversary nature — not in the sense that it requires fighting but, rather, in that it tries to ensure the voices relevant to the dispute all have equal access to the judge. If my adversary communicates with the judge, I have the opportunity to judge whether it’s worthy of a response and how to respond. We don’t leave to the judge to decide whether I should or can respond — the system ensures I make that decision.
The importance of avoiding ex parte communications was brought home to me in law school by the professor who was my supervising attorney in the clinic I was part of. I was representing a child as guardian ad litem in a child abuse and neglect case in family court in Flint, Michigan. The entire scene was grim — it was 1983, and Michigan had started the precipitous economic descent it suffered at the hands of the auto industry. Unemployment in Flint was through the roof (even in 2010 terms). Abuse and neglect claims had increased. That day it was freezing and pouring rain.
After our hearing, my professor/supervisor and I stood sheltered in an entranceway to the courthouse, hoping the rain would abate a bit so we could make it to our car without getting to0 rain-soaked. As we stood there, the door opened and the judge before whom we’d just appeared stepped out, smiled, and started speaking with us, obviously intent on the same endeavor we were — waiting out the rain in the doorway. My professor immediately wished the judge a good day and, grabbing my arm, led us out into the deluge. When we’d made it to the car I asked her what in the world she had been thinking. She responded, “You do not communicate with a judge without the other side present. It’s wrong!”
It makes perfect sense to me. If the other side has an opportunity to communicate with the judge without my knowledge, how am I supposed to judge what I should let the judge know? Unfortunately, some important people seem to have underestimated the fundamental importance of this rule. Justice Scalia seems not to have worried that hunting with Dick Cheney might be deemed a compromise of the integrity of his court judging a case in which Cheney was a party. Justice Thomas’s willingness to speak before and maintain other relationships with conservative groups with a stake in cases before the Supreme Court are notorious.
And now comes the Ohio Supreme Court suggesting that as long as a judge is really careful he can communicate via social networks with people who are litigating cases in his court. I think it stinks. I would tell a judge not to allow access via social networks to litigants or potential litigants. And I’d tell any lawyer to stay away from networking with a judge before whom he will or may appear.
Incidentally, I don’t think the Ohio Supreme Court’s “guidance” really is all that helpful anyway. Essentially, the guidelines leave to the judge the determination of what is and is not appropriate, acknowledging there are no “bright lines” distinguishing between the two:
- To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 1.2., a judge must maintain dignity in every comment, photograph, and other information shared on the social networking site.
- To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.4(C), a judge must not foster social networking interactions with individuals or organizations if such communications erode confidence in the independence of judicial decision making.
- To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.9 (A), a judge should not make comments on a social networking site about any matters pending before the judge – not to a party, not to a counsel for a party, not to anyone.
- To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.9 (C), a judge should not view a party’s or witnesses’ pages on a social networking site and should not use social networking sites to obtain information regarding the matter before the judge.
- To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.10, a judge should avoid making any comments on a social networking site about a pending or impending matter in any court.
- To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.11 (A)(1), a judge should disqualify himself or herself from a proceeding when the judge’s social networking relationship with a lawyer creates bias or prejudice concerning the lawyer or party. There is no bright-line rule: not all social relationships, online or otherwise, require a judge disqualification.
- To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 3.10, a judge may not give legal advice to others on a social networking site.