Anonymous online writing: bad writing that wouldn’t see the light of day if the writer knew readers could match the words to the person.

Wow. I apparently touched a nerve the other day when I blogged on this post and the thread of comments following it and expressed my preference for Dan Hull’s view that anonymous blogging is cowardly.

At the risk of offending one anonymous commenter who desperately wants me to condemn Dan’s insistence on insulting him and forget what I care about — writing words that one is willing to stand behind and justify — I will try to clarify and expand upon what I wrote:

I never said one cannot write anonymously. Quite plainly I don’t ban anonymous comments on my blog. Quite plainly I’ll never be Lord of the Internet with the power to ban anonymous writers. Nor, if I were Lord of the Internet, would I ban anonymous writing. I believe in the freedom of speech, even speech that expresses views I despise. Views I think are stupid are another tolerable phenomenon.

But I do care deeply about the quality of writing. I teach law students how to write as lawyers, and the vast majority of my professional life as a law professor and a lawyer depends on the effectiveness of what I write. One thing I am convinced of and try passionately to convince my students of is that that you cannot be an effective writer if you do not have the courage to own your words. By that I mean, among other things, that you must believe in your words, believe those are the  best words you could come up with under the circumstances to express your point of  view. If you don’t do so, you’re just parroting things you haven’t truly thought through. Your failure to think them through typically means you haven’t entirely grasped what it is you’re trying to say (and what the writer of what you’re parroting meant to say). It also means your words will not convince the intelligent reader who isn’t already convinced that you’re right.

One necessary implication of my belief in the necessity of owning your words is that anonymous online writing loses a lot of its credibility by the very fact that it is anonymous.

My view does not mean that anonymous writing entirely lacks credibility.The anonymous author’s character (and an anonymous author has a character, one that makes an alert reader wonder why he isn’t willing to claim his words as his own) detracts from the reader’s valuation of that anonymous author’s writing. But a myriad of factors go into influencing a given text’s persuasive force. The author’s character is only one, albeit an important one.

The point that really seems to have hit a nerve is that it seems plain to me that choosing to write anonymously is for all relevant purposes grounded in fear. Sometimes that fear justifies the anonymity because (a) the author’s fear is of sufficient immediate and substantial harm and (b) the message is so important that even if it is compromised by anonymity it is worth getting out. Where those so offended by my views and I differ is in the amount of courage we think is appropriate. They have fears of the consequences of identifying themselves online when they write and they’re deeply offended that I don’t believe those fears justify their ways of using anonymity.

Thinking he had caught me questioning the courage of one of my colleagues (whose views, not courage, I question) one anonymous commenter pointed out that Jonathan Adler blogged anonymously on the Volokh Conspiracy as “Juan non-Volokh” prior to being granted tenure. At the time, Jonathan had a legitimate fear that the mere act of blogging would jeopardize his shot at tenure. As a general matter at that time, blogging was not only considered beneath legal scholars, but also to be an actual drain on time better devoted to “real” scholarship. (While blogging is no longer a negative in the eyes of most professors, it still is considered by most entirely irrelevant to scholarly achievement). I have absolutely no reason to believe Jonathan chose anonymity to hide the substance of the views he expressed on the Volokh Conspiracy. Those views were quite well known among his colleagues (and to the public) and in substance were entirely of a piece with the public writing he did under his own name. Nonetheless, I do believe that Jonathan’s writing under his own name has more force than his writing did under his chosen pseudonym. Nor do I have any reason to believe he would disagree.

To take one of Dan Hull’s more obvious examples of non-cowardly fear justifying anonymity, an Iranian dissident has good reasons for writing under a pseudonym. But one question his anonymous identity might raise, among others is this: is he really a dissident or is he in fact a CIA or Saudi plant? All sorts of credibility problems arise when one chooses to separate one’s writing from one’s identity.

Ken, who chooses anonymity, has written that he prefers to remain anonymous because his favorite styles are, as he describes them, “satire, sarcasm, and ridicule.” Ken also believes that “these are potent weapons in the fight over ideas.” But, unfortunately, poor Ken is too subtle for most people and he therefore fears their reactions:

People don’t like being made fun of. Moreover, some people are functionally incapable of understanding irony, sarcasm, and satire. Other people are offended easily, and particularly by pop culture, sexual references, and the various forms of juvenile self-indulgence occasionally featured here to the extent it amuses us.

I would suggest to Ken words he so proudly identifies as satire, sarcasm, and ridicule are not really the “potent weapons” he believes they are. It is well known that online writing in particular is a very poor medium for the effective use sarcasm. Effective satire that actually persuades someone previously unconvinced of the writer’s point of view is a very rare thing. Far more often, satire is just the words of someone seeking affirmation from others who share the writer’s contempt for the object of the satire. And ridicule? Ridicule amuses your toadies. To everyone else, it’s just name-calling.

But Ken is no Jonathan Swift, and I think he knows it. In fact, Ken’s “satire, sarcasm, and ridicule” are, to my mind (and to the mind of those who are convinced by me, but plainly not to Ken and his anonymous colleagues), merely the lazy expression of hostility and disagreement.

But, regardless of how we characterize the writing that Ken believes to be a “potent weapon in the war of ideas,” what he fears is the risk those “functionally incapable” of understanding his meaning would pose to him. Who are these people? Well, he once worked for big firms that would so dislike what he wrote he feared his employment would be threatened. He has clients he fears he’d lose if they knew the truth of his views on social issues. He fears needing to justify his writing to opposing lawyers or judges who might use those words against him. He fears he or his family will be stalked or threatened like other bloggers have been. And he bravely wrote critically once about a white supremacist who lived just one town over from him.

Are these fears the legitimate fears of a brilliant writer wielding potent tools in the war of ideas? You can judge for yourself. The fear of the law firms, the clients, and opposing counsel and judges seems to me more likely fears of being busted for using stupid words by people to whom one has the responsibility to express oneself intelligently. The fear of being stalked seems to me the fear of something so unlikely (even though it does happen, of course) that it’s really nothing but an empty rationalization. The fear of the white supremacist? I might grant Ken that one, but then why does all of his writing need to be anonymous?

To address the question more generally: are your political views so inconsistent with your employment that your job would be threatened if you really expressed them? Are you so desperate for a job you need to keep that one despite the fact it is inconsistent with true expression of what you believe? Are you writing online about your employer despite an employment policy that forbids you to do so? Is that a legitimate exercise of anonymity? If you’re Karen Silkwood or Daniel Ellsberg, it would be, but I have grave doubts that the people complaining to me are in that league.

And if it’s your clients’ reactions you fear, why would they not like what you write? Would they like it if they knew you were hiding your real thoughts from them? Why do you represent them if legitimate expression of what you really believe would offend them? Are you really capable of representing them zealously if you harbor secret thoughts that, if known, would cause them to retain different lawyers? Is a blog really an appropriate place for telling stories about how dumb your clients are? You enjoy doing it. You want to do it. But does being able to do that justify anonymous blogging?

I AM NOT suggesting that  fears are always illegitimate. What I am suggesting is that a free-floating fear of being stalked as a result of online writing is pretty far off the wall. And I’ve worked for big law firms and clients of all sorts. It’s not the everyday law firm or client who would fire you for thoughtful writing online. There would have to be something really atrocious about the employer. And clients care far more about courage, skill, and passion than they do about disagreements on social issues that are irrelevant to their representation, especially if those views are expressed cogently and the lawyer is willing to stand behind those views. The last thing clients want is a lawyer who’s afraid to let the world know that he believes in and will stand behind his words.

And are these fears so real that they justify anonymity on everything a blogger writes? Selective, tactical anonymity is an option, guys. And choosing to remain silent on matters that you can’t write about in ways that won’t endanger you with people who matter to you is an option too. That of course, is a whole other topic: a good lawyer takes a lot of really interesting stuff to his grave with him.

And, honestly, I don’t see substance on Popehat (the site I originally linked to and from which the hostile commenters came) that would usually be the sort of thing that would threaten the livelihood of its authors or commenters. They’re a bunch of guys who might like to romanticize the subversiveness of what they write, but, really, they’re not exactly a threat to anyone or anything.

Nor am I.

Then again, while the content at Popehat is pretty run of the mill, the words themselves do not really do that substance a lot of justice. And that indeed is a major part of the problem. As Charles wrote, anonymity allows you to write that a cop was a “fascist” without people who know you and would be offended by those words know that you wrote them. But merely writing that a cop is a “fascist” is just nasty name-calling, not credible writing. And Patrick, in the very first comment responding to my blog post – writing anonymously, of course — explained that he’s never heard about me but that if he really cared he could “write a blogpost mocking [me], that would stick to the front page of a Google search for [my] name forever.”

A put down and a threat as an opening move? That’s a perfect example of why I called anonymous writing online cowardly. If one is going to insult and threaten, one ought to have the courage to let one’s employers, clients, loved ones, and targets know that being a bully is what one is in the business of doing.

Or one could claim to use insults rhetorically, to highlight a point, but that’s a dangerous game, and it takes a special person to get away with it, and Dan Hull happens to be a special person.

But the most important thing about Dan Hull for purposes of this discussion (though quite plainly Patrick and his Popehat People want to make anyone who happens upon this post or the last one on this point think otherwise) is that Dan Hull wrote those insults under his own name! He’s willing to own and justify those insults. And doing so has benefited him immensely. Clients love lawyers who make the work their own. And it sure doesn’t seem that the Popehat guys are big believers in political correctness, so I can’t believe they were genuinely hurt by his words except to the extent the substance behind his insults hit home.

My point is that if you don’t own your writing you cannot truly be persuasive. That’s why I emphasized that my students, as lawyers in training, must learn to own their words, to be ready to justify the choices they made in writing the words they wrote.

And Charles happens to be right about one thing — outside the law (and too much within it, truth be told) the courage to own one’s words is sorely lacking. I think that’s a real shame and a major loss for the quality of any discourse, be it about politics, literature, science, religion, etc. Charles, I guess, expects less of people than I do. I also think that people would be surprised how much they’d benefit from saying what they mean in ways they’d be proud to claim as their own to anyone.

Finally, I am making no demands. I am stating my point of view. Yes, I am an Associate Professor of Legal Writing, but that’s just a title. And I hardly use it to put on airs. Anyone who knows anything of the status wars within academia or has read much into my archives knows I write quite openly, under my own name, about (1) the fact my title is reflective of a remarkably low status and an absence of job security and (2) my opinion that (contra Patrick) law professors are NOT an elevated class.

Am I a nobody? Well, Mike (whoever he might be) certainly things so. One thing I do know — anyone with access to an internet connection has about as good an opportunity to determine that for themselves as they would for anyone who writes openly under his own name.

And they can take that information and factor it into their judgment whether and the extent to which they agree with me.

Here’s my suggestion to everyone, including the Popehat guys: try writing under your own names. You might find your words and views become far more compelling not only to your readers but also, far more importantly, to yourselves. But be careful: being thoughtful and precise — writing things that you’re willing to justify to those who challenge them — might make you rethink some of the stuff you hold to so passionately.

Or you can ignore me entirely. That’s entirely your prerogative. You can even, if you wish, go on thinking of me as a narcissistic nobody who doesn’t matter, and I’ll go on thinking of of most anonymous bloggers as a bunch of cowards who write to please themselves and don’t persuade anyone who hasn’t already bought into their point of view.

And when it gets down to it, tthe vast majority of anonymous online writing is simply bad writing that wouldn’t see the light of day if the writer knew everyone he knows could match the words to the person.

Own your words. Anonymity is cowardice, and cowards aren’t known for their wisdom.

An important lesson for my legal writing students: you must own your words to be genuinely persuasive.

By that, of course, I do not mean that their words are their property. There’s a lot of confusion about that issue, but that’s not today’s lesson.

What I mean is that it’s not enough to parrot words you believe are authoritative to make your case. You must use words you know in your heart state what you mean. Parroting the words of others, even if they are authoritative, won’t do that. Which is why one of my favorite quotes is Ralph Waldo Emerson’s: “I hate quotations. Tell me what you know.” (I love paradox too.)

But in order to own your words you have to have the courage to stand behind them too. It’s one reason I bemoan the influence of anonymous student evaluations. It’s why too I’m all in with Dan Hull in this insane exchange about his insistence that anonymity is the death of productive discussion on the internet.

What possible conviction can you hold in your words if you’re not even willing to put your name to them? As Dan makes clear, there are of course exceptions to this rule — there are times anonymity is necessary to preserve one’s safety. But legitimate fear for one’s safety for stating disagreement is a rare thing that we don’t encounter terribly often in 2010 on the internet in the United States. It’s almost hilarious to find people disputing Dan under the pseudonyms “Publius” and “Marcus Agrippa.” Almost hilarious. Really, it’s pathetic.

If you can’t own your words, put yourself forward as the authority behind your words and rely on the force of those words and your own integrity for their persuasive effects, you cannot be a lawyer. I’ve said it recently: a good thing about being a lawyer is there is always someone telling you your wrong. You have to be willing to put your ideas and words to the test, and you have to be willing to adapt and adjust when your words have been successfully challenged. To hide behind a pseudonym is nothing but cowardice, and cowards aren’t known for their wisdom.

Legal decisions based on what the law is not — the “permission culture” and copyright overclaiming

One thing law students don’t get at all is the ways lawyers negotiate a world in which legal decisions are based on what the law is not.

Mike Masnick over at techdirt, , writing about the “Permission Culture” (that is, the culture that insists that sampling and quoting should only be done with permission), puts his finger directly on one of the biggest problems — the fear of even frivolous lawsuits, even by big publishing concerns, prevents writers, musicians, and artists from quoting, sampling, and appropriating parts of copyrighted works they don’t need permission to take:

The unfortunate reality these days is that publishers won’t touch such quotes without permission being granted. It’s almost impossible to find a publisher these days that would sign off on even that snippet of eight words, claiming that they don’t want the liability of a lawsuit. I’ve had this discussion a few times with authors and publishers, and they all say the same thing: due to the potential liability of a lawsuit, even if it clearly does appear to be fair use, it’s just not worth using the quote. In fact, we discussed this point here last year, where we wrote about an author who had to drop an entire section of a book, because of a few short quotes. Clear fair use… but his publisher wouldn’t touch it.

I would suggest too that one reason publishers won’t publish books without permission for the use of quotations is that they perceive it to be in their interests not to do so. That way, other publishers will ask and pay for permission to use quotations from their own books. That is why, I am convinced, the music industry never has seriously challenged lower court decisions requiring permission (and, presumably, payment) for the use of any recorded sample — the practice makes each company’s record vault’s sources of income.

The problem, of course is exacerbated considerably because the wealth and of the corporate conglomerates that own so much of our intellectual property. Who is going to fight Disney, even if he’s right? Another problem is the widespread ignorance in the media about copyright. As Richard Posner has written, the fear of litigating against rich copyright holders who place a premium on their fear of losing something of value leads to behavior based on law that isn’t at all what the law is supposed to be:

Look at the copyright page in virtually any book, or the copyright notice at the beginning of a DVD or VHS film recording. The notice will almost always state that no part of the work can be reproduced without the publisher’s (or movie studio’s) permission. This is a flat denial of fair use. The reader or viewer who thumbs his nose at the copyright notice risks receiving a threatening letter from the copyright owner. He doesn’t know whether he will be sued, and because the fair use doctrine is vague, he may not be altogether confident about the outcome of the suit. The would-be fair user is likely to be an author, movie director, etc. and he will find that his publisher or studio is a strict copyright policeman. That is, since a publisher worries about expansive fair uses of the books he publishes, he doesn’t want to encourage such uses by permitting his own authors to copy from other publishers’ works. So you have a whole “law in action” law invented by publishers, including ridiculous rules such as that any quotation of more than two lines of a poem requires a copyright license.

Khan Academy: an invaluable new resource in your effort to learn everything

As I’ve written before,  good lawyers need to know everything. In other words, your professional life is  a constant and endless process of learning. One of the foremost skills you bring to your clients is an ability to become fluent in their affairs and to be able to communicate your understanding of those affairs clearly, concisely, and persuasively to audiences who may never have encountered those things.

Libraries, of course, are therefore invaluable. And the internet is a miracle. But still, finding the right resources to learn a particular topic is difficult. I came out of college and law school knowing Latin and Ancient Greek and a lot of history and literature, but I needed to learn an awful lot very quickly about things like finance, insurance, economics, and business, and the effort to educate myself was an adventure. The internet has, of course, only multiplied the tedious, obscure, and downright erroneous “authorities.” So I am always thrilled to find a source that speaks to me and genuinely teaches me. And I am thrilled to have found Khan Academy. As the home page explains:

The Khan Academy is a not-for-profit organization with the mission of providing a high quality education to anyone, anywhere.

We have 1400+ videos on YouTube covering everything from basic arithmetic and algebra to differential equations, physics, chemistry, biology and finance which have been recorded by Salman Khan. . . .

The Khan Academy and Salman Khan have received a 2009 Tech Award in Education. The Tech Awards is an international awards program that honors innovators from around the world who are applying technology to benefit humanity.

Here is Mr. Khan’s introductory video:

Law students: what you learn is more important than your grade!

Ray Ward is a wise man. He sums up in a sentence what I often spend a year trying to get through to my students:

What you learn in a course is more important than your grade for that course.

It’s a particularly difficult point to get across to law students. One reason is that law school itself is packed almost entirely with people who feel that there’s a strong correlation between what you’ve learned, your intelligence, and your grade. Virtually all law professors had the highest or near the highest GPAs in their graduating classes from elite law schools. In my experience, people who succeed in an institution tend to believe that institution is very good at measuring success. Thus, law professors tend to think law school grades are good measure of success at learning law. And law students don’t know any better. They have no way to measure their success but grades. There is virtually no other feedback on their performance and their progress.

Lawyers I know genuinely do feel differently — that law school grades are poor predictors of success as a lawyer, and what studies there are confirm that the typical predictors of law school success are not good predictors of success in legal practice.

But it’s not easy getting that message across to law students, especially when your law professor colleagues don’t agree.

Just say it!

It is a truth often assumed that a lawyer in need of an argument must arm herself with rules stated in legalese. There could be few more difficult assumptions to overcome in educating new lawyers.

One of my more profound light bulb moments as a young lawyer came a few months into my first job, after I’d written the first draft of a brief for a partner. After he’d had a chance to review the draft he called me into his office to discuss it. I entered, carrying, of course, the draft that by this time I’d virtually memorized. He asked me why I thought we’d win. I glanced at the draft and he said, “No. Put it down. I want you to tell me in your own words, in plain English, without telling me what the cases say.” So I slowly sputtered out a brief explanation in plain English, thinking that this was going to be painstaking, that the simple plain English explanation would be followed with a discussion of each case and the reasoning of each judge in each case, and then we’d have to cobble all these pieces together . . .

In response to my plain English explanation, he said, “Then why didn’t you just say that?” I blinked, and asked in stupid amazement, “I can do that?” He laughed, and answered, “That’s exactly what you are supposed to do.” Wow, just explain in plain English, without resort to legalistic rules and long chains of reasoning from premises established by Lord Blackstone? What an amazing idea, and what a truly difficult one to grasp.

I was reminded of this today when I read the post at Lawyerist.com entitled “Improve Your Legal Writing: Just Say It“:

Say what you want to say. Do not imply it, do not hint at it, just say it. This can be difficult at times, but it will improve your writing, and make your arguments more persuasive.

Losing $500 million was a legal win: outcomes and predictions from a lawyer’s point-of-view

In case you haven’t read it already, there’s a new study that purports to establish that lawyers consistently overestimate the chances of success in their cases (pdf). David Post of the Volokh Conspiracy takes the study and applies the typical academic condescension to practitioners: “I’m constantly amazed, given the obvious fact that half of all litigants are holding losing hands, at how easily most lawyers can persuade themselves of the rightness of their client’s cause.”

Jeff Gamso, a criminal defense attorney (and former English professor!) in Toledo, Ohio who writes a terrific blog, Gamso for the Defense, takes a much more nuanced approach to the study in his post, “Blessed are the Oddsmakers.” First, it’s important to note the difference between criminal defense and civil litigation. As Gamso reminds his readers, in his practice, “[m]ost trials result in guilty verdicts. But most cases aren’t tried; they’re resolved by pleas of one sort or another.” It reminds me of what a friend of mine, a public defender, once told my class in response to the question “what’s the hardest part of your job?” He answered, “Losing 95% of my cases.”

But Gamso reminds us that pleas, the criminal analog to a civil settlement, is a strategic move made with the best possible` estimation of likelihood of success at trial, an estimation by no means easy to make:

The idea of the plea is that it’s a compromise because trials are problematic. They’re a lot of work and they are, ultimately, uncertain. Anyone who’s been at this for a while can tell you that juries and judges sometimes surprise. We win (whatver that means) some cases we should lose. We lose (whatever that means) some cases we should win. The jury, the judge, the world sometimes just gets it wrong.

Accordingly, the decision to accept an offer from the other side is a complicated combination of prediction of an uncertain future, the ability to convey the relevant information to the client, the other side’s own predictions and resulting offer (if any), the client’s own inclinations and decision (it is his decision), and the adversary’s response to the client’s decision.

Perhaps most importantly, however, it’s fundamental to any effective legal representation to understand that lawsuits and prosecutions are not binary, win/loss situations. Overcoming binary thinking is, in fact, one of the most important and difficult tasks in teaching first year law students. It’s difficult enough to get students to understand that the outcome of a case is the only thing that matters to a client, but then also to get them to realize that the result is usually a whole lot more complicated matter than merely stating that the plaintiff or defendant won or lost. (And it’s a shame that Remedies is one of the most neglected courses in law schools these days.) Let’s get this straight: Exxon won the litigation which resulted in it paying over $500 million in punitive damages. Or, as Gamso so pungently puts it in connection with criminal defense:

[David] Dow tells of Van Orman, an innocent man on death row. He simply didn’t commit the crime. He’s also got mental retardation. Dow proves the retardation and gets him off the row. Now the innocent man will do life in prison. “But I’m a death-penalty lawyer and Van Orman won’t get executed, so I count it as a victory. One of my clients committed suicide a week before his execution. That’s a victory. Another died of AIDS. A victory.”

You bet. I had a client who died of hepatitis right after I filed the papers asking the U.S. Supreme Court to hear the case. He died before the state had a chance to reply, certainly before the Court ruled. That goes down as a win. That’s how it works when you’re doing death penalty defense. Whenever the government doesn’t murder your client, you’ve got a win.

All of which is a way of saying that in this business, winning often isn’t an all-or-nothing proposition. Confession suppressed? Win. Even if the drugs aren’t suppressed? Yep. Just not a complete win.

•Get some of the charges dismissed? Win. Even if the client’s found guilty of some things? Yep. Just not a complete win.

•Get a five year sentence? Win if the client might have gotten 8. Or 50.

•LWOP? Win if the alternative was death.

•Continuance? Hung jury? Wins. Even if they’re only temporary. (The old line is that a continuance is as good as an acquittal – it just doesn’t last as long.)

•Client goes home after a not guilty verdict? Big Win.

And on it goes.

The key isn’t that what counts as a win depends. The key is that you need to have a sense of things. (emphasis added)

Yes, the key is to have a sense of things. A win is getting the best outcome the circumstances permit you to get for a client. Do human beings tend to be overconfident in their predictions? Cognitive science establishes that does indeed seem to be the case, and as a lawyer you ought to be aware of it, and you ought to be aware that your adversary shares the same bias, and you ought to be aware of the risks associated with going to trial, and you ought to be aware of your client’s fears and desires and his ability to deal with risk and loss. You need to have a sense of an infinite number of things, and the better your sense of these things is and the better you are at communicating them to your client, the better you will be as a lawyer and the better the outcomes you will produce. Will you be able to tally those outcomes as wins and losses? Only if you have a very flexible understanding of what constitutes a win or a loss.

A lawyer must separate bluster from truth and act accordingly: Halsey Minor’s fall.

Being an effective lawyer requires an enormous amount of confidence in one’s own judgment. As I tell my students, when you’re a lawyer, there is always someone who is telling you you’re wrong. You have to figure out the extent to which the person telling you you’re wrong is right, adjust your position accordingly, and move on. Frequently, the person telling you you’re wrong is wrong himself. It’s not always easy to tell the difference between wrong and right. But the real signs of maturity are (1) being able to adjust your position to what’s right in someone else’s words, and (2) being able to reject disagreement you judge for yourself is without merit.

[One of my pet peeves with contemporary journalists is precisely there lack of nerve -- rather than making judgments and explaining them, most journalists merely "report" the words of people who disagree without judgment.]

An example of being told I was flat-out wrong occurred over a year and a half ago, when I wrote about Sotheby’s $16.8 million lawsuit against the art collector and Internet entrepreneur Halsey Minor for refusing to pay the auction house for three paintings he bought in May” (including The Peaceable Kingdom and the Leopard of Serenity by Edward Hicks). I explained that I didn’t see merit in Minor’s claims that Sotheby’s had been in the wrong in failing to disclose to Minor that it had a security interest in The Peacable Kingdom and that the painting’s owner had agreed Sotheby’s would receive the proceeds of the sale. Minor argued that he had relied on Sotheby’s expertise in connection with the painting, and that if he had known of Sotheby’s security interest in the painting he would not have been willing to pay so much. In short, he claimed, Sotheby’s had been supposed to be working on his behalf in giving him advice regarding the painting but in fact had been acting on its own behalf and to his detriment.

Minor agreed to buy the paintings in May 2008. We all know what happened subsequently — we all experienced financial disaster. As a result, the art market collapsed, and the paintings Minor had bought were worth significantly less than he had agreed to pay. Moreover, one could presume,Minor might have suffered severe financial problems in and after 2008. I suspected strongly that Minor either no longer had the money to buy the paintings or, at least, no longer saw them as worth owning at the price he had agreed to pay.

Minor, though, made plain in a comment to my post (as he had to other people who had written skeptically of his claims) that he thought I was wrong, concluding

Sotheby’s committed Fraud and will pay for it and its disappointing to see you allow them to get away with charging outrageous fees and then blaming lack on knowledge on the victim.

What do you say to someone so vehement when you think he’s full of it? You ignore him, and you let the evidence speak for itself. Which, apparently, is what Sotheby’s did. As Donn Zaretetsky of the Art Law Blog reported over 2 months ago, the federal judge who heard the case ruled on March 30 in favor of Sotheby’s on all counts, entering judgment in Sotheby’s favor for $4.4 million plus interest, late charges, and legal fees. (Decision embedded below.)

And now Zaretsky points out  too that my suspicions regarding Minor’s financial hardships are, apparently, well-founded. According to the New York Post:

Fallen Internet tycoon Halsey Minor is so hard up for cash that he can’t even afford to send Sotheby’s his art collection to make good on his $6.6 million debt to the famed auction house. Court papers filed yesterday say the CNet.com co-founder ‘has represented that he cannot pay shippers to transport his fine and decorative art as directed.

And Elizabeth Lesly Stevens of the Bay Citizen reports that Minor has defaulted on the rent for the offices of his corporate home, offices which he has abandoned:

Minor Ventures, Minor’s investment vehicle and corporate home in recent years, has recently cleared out of its 12th-floor, 17,000-square-foot space at 199 Fremont, in San Francisco’s trendy SoMa neighborhood. Minor left behind artwork, office equipment and cubicles, says Laura Binai, a staffer with the building’s management company.

“All their mail comes here, but no one comes to get it,” she said.

Minor Ventures is technically a subtenant of insurance giant Aon Corp., which is “hunting down Minor for rent,” Binai says. An Aon spokesman declined to comment, and efforts to reach Minor have been unsuccessful.

And a second part of Minor’s design collection is set to be sold on Wednesday by some of Minor’s creditors. And a court has allowed Sotheby’s “to register the $6.6 million judgment in the Western District of Virginia and the District of Delaware, where Minor has significant assets,” including “a $6.52 million mortgage for a farm near Charlottesville, Va., that he recently brought current after it was foreclosed upon.”

So what does it seem happened? Minor suffered severe financial losses in the second half of 2008 and his emphatic assertions of wrongdoing by Sotheby’s were just so much bluster.

Sothebys v. Minor Judgment

Elena Kagan is no blank slate, and to say otherwise is to spout lies.

Enough already with this myth that Elena Kagan is a blank slate, typified by Michael Gerson: “The most prominent thing about Kagan is her extraordinary ability, while holding high-profile jobs in the legal profession, to say nothing on the major issues of the day.”

As I explained yesterday at some length, there’s good reason to believe Kagan will be forthcoming in her confirmation hearings about precisely what Gerson states it would “be helpful to know”: “her political, legal, and constitutional views.”

But even more importantly, this view that Kagan has been silent on political, legal, and constitutional issues is pure fiction. SCOTUS Blog, in almost 10,000 words, summarizes her career, and includes links to her legal scholarship. Eugene Volokh, no liberal, writes the following:

Kagan was a working scholar from 1991–95, and then 1999–2003. Between those years, she worked in the Clinton Administration; after those years, she was dean at Harvard Law School, a position that these days leaves its holder with very little time to do serious scholarship. In those eight years, she wrote or cowrote four major articles (linked to here), Presidential Administration (Harv. L. Rev. 2001), Chevron’s Nondelegation Doctrine (Harv. L. Rev. 2001, cowritten with David Barron), Private Speech, Public Purpose: The Role of Governmental Motive in First Amendment Doctrine (U. Chi. L. Rev. 1996), The Changing Faces of First Amendment Neutrality: R.A.V. v. St. Paul, Rust v. Sullivan, and the Problem of Content-Based Underinclusion (Sup. Ct. Rev. 1993). She also wrote three shorter but still substantial pieces, When a Speech Code Is a Speech Code: The Stanford Policy and the Theory of Incidental Restraints (U.C. Davis. L. Rev. 1996), Confirmation Messes, Old and New (U. Chi. L. Rev. 1995), and Regulation of Hate Speech and Pornography After R.A.V. (U. Chi. L. Rev. 1993).

Quantitatively, this is quite good output for eight years as a working scholar. It looks a lot smaller if one looks at her career from 1991 to 2009, when she was appointed Solicitor General — but for the reasons I mentioned above, that’s not the right way to look at it.

Moreover, two of her articles have been judged to be quite important by her colleagues. Presidential Administration has been cited 305 times in law journal articles (according to a search of Westlaw’s JLR database) — an extraordinarily high number of citations for any article, especially one that is less than 10 years old. In fact, a HeinOnline list of all articles with more than 100 citations, run in August 2009, reports that her article was at the time the 6th most-cited law review article of all the articles published since 2000. Many legal scholars, even ones working in the relatively high-citation fields of constitutional law and administrative law, have never and will never write an article that is so much cited.

Chevron’s Nondelegation Doctrine has been cited 75 times, a very high number for an article’s first 10 years; I suspect that only a tiny fraction of one percent of all law review articles are cited at such a pace. Private Speech, Public Purpose has been cited 129 times, likewise a very high number. The Changing Faces of First Amendment Neutrality has been cited only 36 times, but that probably stems in large part from the fact that Supreme Court Review articles from that era are not on Westlaw or Lexis (ridiculous, especially for a faculty-edited journal with the Supreme Court Review’s excellent reputation, and likely stemming from a short-sighted non-licensing decision by the University of Chicago Press).

And while some articles might be heavily cited because they fit with academic ideological fashions, I don’t think these would qualify.

Blank slate, my ass.

My favorite part of her writing is her may be her reminiscence of Justice Thurgood Marshall, for whom she clerked. It might be less in the scholarly mode, but it is perhaps as revealing as anything about what she would be like as a judge:

Justice Marshall thought all lawyers (and certainly all judges) should be reminded . . .  that behind law there are stories-stories of people’s lives as shaped by law, stories of people’s lives as might be changed by law. Justice Marshall had little use for law as abstraction, divorced from social reality (he muttered under his breath for days about Judge Bork’s remark that he wished to serve on the Court because the experience would be “an intellectual feast”); his stories kept us focused on law as a source of human well-being.

That this focus made the Justice no less a “lawyer’s lawyer” should be obvious; indeed, I think, quite the opposite. I knew, of course, before I became his clerk that Justice Marshall had been the most important-and probably the greatest-lawyer of the twentieth century. I knew that he had shaped the strategy that led to Brown v. Board of Education and other landmark civil rights cases; that he had achieved great renown (indeed, legendary status) as a trial lawyer; that he had won twenty-nine of the thirty-two cases he argued before the Supreme Court. But in my year of clerking, I think I saw what had made him great. Even at the age of eighty, his mind was active and acute, and he was an almost instant study.

Above all, though, he had the great lawyer’s talent (a talent many judges do not possess) for pinpointing a case’s critical fact or core issue. That trait, I think, resulted from his understanding of the pragmatic-of the way in which law worked in practice as well as on the books, of the way in which law acted on people’s lives. If a clerk wished for a year of spinning ever more refined (and ever less plausible) law-school hypotheticals, she might wish for a clerkship other than Justice Marshall’s. If she thought it more important for a Justice to understand what was truly going on in a case and to respond to those realities, she belonged in Justice Marshall’s chambers.

None of this meant that notions of equity governed Justice Marshall’s vote in every case; indeed, he could become quite the formalist at times. During the Term I clerked, the Court heard argument in Torres v. Oakland Scavenger Co. There, a number of Hispanic employees had brought suit alleging employment discrimination. The district court dismissed the suit, and the employees’ lawyer filed a notice of appeal. The lawyer’s secretary, however, inadvertently omitted the name of one plaintiff from the notice. The question for the Court was whether the appellate court had jurisdiction over the party whose name had been omitted; on this question rode the continued existence of the employee’s discrimination claim. My co-clerks and I pleaded with Justice Marshall to vote (as Justice Brennan eventually did) that the appellate court could exercise jurisdiction. Justice Marshall refused. As always when he disagreed with us, he pointed to the framed judicial commission hanging on his office wall and asked whose name was on it. (Whenever we told Justice Marshall that he “had to” dosomething-join an opinion, say-the Justice would look at us coldly and announce: “There are only two things I have to do-stay black and die.”

A smarter group of clerks might have learned to avoid this unfortunate grammatical construction.) The Justice referred in our conversation to his own years of trying civil rights claims. All you could hope for, he remarked, was that a court didn’t rule against you for illegitimate reasons; you couldn’t hope, and you had no right to expect, that a court would bend the rules in your favor. Indeed, the Justice continued, it was the very existence of rules-along with the judiciary’s felt obligation to adhere to them-that best protected unpopular parties. Contrary to some conservative critiques, Justice Marshall believed devoutly-believed in a near mystical sense-in the rule of law. He had no trouble writing the Torres opinion.

Elena Kagan, For Justice Marshall, 71 Texas L. Rev. 1125, 1127-28 (1993).

There may after all be useful methods to develop effective analogies to help guide your legal research!

I did at least acknowledge in Friday’s post about the difficulties of research that my words originated at an hour when I felt at “rock bottom.” The essence of my “advice” was not terribly helpful as an educational matter except perhaps in emphasizing to students the enormity of the task and the difficulty of the work they are taking on when they do legal research. I wrote:

Research that is genuine research not only requires Sisyphean patience in combing through the sources, it requires also consideration, observation, and study of what one finds within those sources so that one can, first, identify the elements that matter, and, second, put those important, buried, and isolated elements together in some useful and novel way.

But in emphasizing the difficulty and artistic aspects of legal research (beliefs I do not hereby recant), I entirely ignored the perfectly legitimate question asked by one professor on behalf of her students: are there any methods that are helpful in developing the analogies that are so central to legal argument?

So I did what I should have done in the first place if I were going to speak with any authority on research — I did some research, and, in fact, I found that there may be methods that can help students develop meaningful and useful analogies they can subsequently use to guide their research with increased effectiveness. See, e.g., I. Blanchett & K. Dunbar, How Analogies are Generated: the Role of Structural and Superficial Similarity, Memory & Cognition 2000, 29, 730-735 (pdf) and sources cited therein.

One can, of course, make a lists of items and ask students which ones belongs and which one doesn’t. You might list, for example, Oprah Winfrey, Orin Hatch, Hilary Clinton, and Olympia Snowe. In doing so, the students could recognize that the group of 4 could be classified according to a number of different criteria, and each criterion would exclude a person the other criteria would not. There are 3 women. There are 3 politicians. There are 3 people whose first names begin with the letter O.

This type of exercise does help students recognize that analogies are based on the similarities between different situations, and that of course is a necessary first step in teaching argument based on analogy.

The problem with this type of exercise, however, is that experiments show that it leads subjects to focus on surface similarities between the situations they are comparing rather than on underlying structural similarities. Blanchett & Dunbar at 3. In contrast, however, research shows that the analogies people use to solve real world problems “tend to be based on deep structural features rather than superficial features.” Id. at 4.

Fortunately, however, there are studies supporting at least one method of increasing the ability of subjects to identify situations that share deep structural similarities and, therefore, provide more meaningful analogies and more effective problem solving. Simply put, the subjects are split into 2 groups and are presented with a problem, associated issues, and 2 opposing approaches to solving the problem. One group is asked to generate analogies supporting one group, and the other to generate analogies supporting the opposition.  In one experiment, for example, subjects were presented with the question of whether Canada should run a public deficit or instead balance its national budget. One group was asked to generate analogies that would be helpful to a group arguing for a balanced budget, while the other was asked to identify analogies helpful to a group supporting deficit spending. Id. at 5.

The results showed that the analogies developed by the groups were not very influenced by superficial similarities, that the groups generated a wide variety of analogies, and that they drew those deep-structure analogies from domains not typically associated with the target problem. Thus, instead of focusing on matters typically associated with debates over national budgets — economics, politics, and personal finance (if I can balance my checkbook, why can’t the government?!) — the analogies were  drawn “from domains as varied as natural resources, eating, illness, and domestic tasks.” Id. at 9. Further studies have shown similar results and have suggested that individuals generating analogies alone are more effective than groups at finding deep structural similarities in situations that are not superficially similar. Id. at 13.

So here may be a useful tip for a student trying to find analogies to legal problems he or she is trying to develop arguments about:

Sit down alone, without resort to any sources other than your own imagination, and try to think of as many situations that are similar to the problem or issue you are addressing in ways that support the position you are taking on the issue. Don’t feel constrained by case law you may have happened to have read or what you feel lawyers are supposed to do. Use your imagination, and draw on whatever  you can. You’ll end up with a number of analogies. Then you can go to secondary sources, identify cases that involve those types of situations, and perhaps in those cases you’ll find arguments and analogies useful in the case you are trying to solve. You might even find very good ones no one has considered before. Lawyers do that all the time.

Research only begins with information: patience, insight, and imagination are the most important parts of it.

Suffering from one of my occasional bouts with insomnia the other night, I came upon a message on the legal writing professors’ listserv from a professor who was seeking advice from students who were wondering what tricks or tools they might use to find the analogies and legal arguments that they were finding so difficult to discover in the course of their legal research. No doubt the hour contributed to the poor quality of my response. In her poem “4 a.m.,” Wislawa Szymborska writes that “No one feels fine at four a.m.” But the passionate rage I felt at the belief that there are simple tips and tricks to effective research of any sort was not purely the product of the feeling Szymborska describes as “Hollow. Vain./Rock bottom of all the other hours.”

We have a serious misunderstanding these days about what constitutes research.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, research is the

Systematic investigation or inquiry aimed at contributing to knowledge of a theory, topic, etc., by careful consideration, observation, or study of a subject.

Let’s assume that the inquiry is into a legal topic. The first element of research is a “systematic investigation or inquiry.” I suppose location of a database or the use of a particular search algorithm could be considered one sort of a systematic investigation, but to suppose that the notion of systematic investigation is exhausted by the location of sources is nonsensical. I can point students to particular treatises I personally find of great value in certain subjects, and of course legal research is filled with secondary sources and finding tools that fill virtually any style one might find useful in such sources. And we live in the age of databases — there are databases for everything.

But systematic investigation is barely begun, if even begun at all, by merely finding a source or set of sources in which answers might lie. The real art of research lies in the second part of that definition of the term: “careful consideration, observation, or study.”

The answers to difficult legal questions don’t lie around waiting to be found as if they are treasure chests left lying on forest floors. They are constructed and created by elements buried within our universe of databases. Thus, research that is genuine research not only requires Sisyphean patience in combing through the sources, it requires also consideration, observation, and study of what one finds within those sources so that one can, first, identify the elements that matter, and, second, put those important, buried, and isolated elements together in some useful and novel way.

Perhaps more importantly, the identification of the elements that matter cannot be done without simultaneously developing ways of putting those elements together in some useful and novel way. How can you know what matters without knowing what purpose you are putting it to? And how can you decide what purpose you are trying to accomplish if you don’t know what elements you’ll have to use?

In short, research, analysis, and theorizing are all a single activity — finding things, making sure they are the right things, and putting them together in the right ways.

To suggest otherwise would be to suggest that finding the historical sources concerning the U.S. Civil War that James McPherson used in writing his brilliant history of that conflict was virtually all the work that had to be done to produce the book. After all, once one has found the sources, the writing is just a matter of stringing the information in those sources together, right?

Of course not. One must find the sources, of course. But the research is inseparable from the perspicacious mind that finds within those sources the elements that the creative and original mind then can mold into a work that educates, entertains, moves, and even convinces.

There is no such thing as research apart from insight and imagination. And an enormous amount of work.

And so, in perhaps the most coherent part of my e-mail the other night, I wrote:

Research is about drawing connections between ideas and words from wildly disparate sources, connections that can only be found by means of painstakingly patient reading of one source after another, tracing connections between sources that might be as seemingly trivial as the bare citation in one case to a another case in connection with a discussion in the first case that strikes the attentive and imaginative reader as potentially relevant to the legal issue he or she is researching. Obviously, tracing such connections (and the myriad of similarly subtle connections effective researchers exploit) requires an enormous amount of concentration, and enormous amount of patience with the continual following up of leads that go nowhere, an enormous amount of imagination to spot connections that courts don’t make explicit (and often don’t even recognize the true significance of), and an abandonment of the idea that engaging in research in this manner is to neglect (in some Luddite fashion) “tools” that can do the job so much more quickly and effectively.

Research is painstaking work that requires enormous imagination and is inextricably intertwined with and develops simultaneously with the development of the legal analysis the research is intended to support. (Which is one reason I go ballistic anytime someone suggests librarians rather than legal writing professors should be teaching research to first year law students, as if legal research is simply a matter of knowing sources and databases and how to develop effective word searches rather than being part and parcel of the writing and analysis.)

I’ve always told my students that law is as requires as much creativity and originality as any human endeavor. I mean it.

One last point: I don’t think Google is making us stupid. Yes, there is more information available to us than ever before. But, again, we can’t confuse information with research. Research is inquiry that contributes to knowledge. Information may be a sine qua non of research, but without attention, insight, and imagination, it isn’t research at all.

Law isn’t about what’s legal and illegal; it’s about serving clients.

Law students, too many lawyers, and most non-lawyers think that lawyers tell clients what they can do and what they can’t — what’s “legal” and what’s not. This caricature is so far from the truth it’s laughable. Lawyers serve clients, and there is so, so much more that drives client decision making than what the law states (except, perhaps, in those exceedingly rare instances when the law mandates a certain decision).

So it’s refreshing that Settlement Perspectives reviews the kinds of questions clients want to hear from their lawyers but don’t hear often enough. Perhaps the most important one is this:

What is an acceptable outcome in this matter?

The article goes on to list a number of other questions of particular import to clients, including this one, perhaps most immediately comprehensible to my first year students:

In the case of a litigated matter, on the continuum between winning and losing, what is considered acceptable? Is there a possibility for success short of complete victory? Prevailing without success? Not prevailing but not losing?

(Hat tip to What about Clients?)

Lynn Cheney and William Kristol are anti-American.

Walter Dellinger, a partner with O’Melveney & Myers, and former head of the Office of Legal Counsel, writes today (in relation to my passionate rejection of Lynn Cheney’s attack on lawyers who represented Guantanamo Detainees):

It never occurred to me on the day that Defense Department lawyer Rebecca Snyder and Lt. Cmdr. William Kuebler of the Navy appeared in my law firm’s offices to ask for our assistance in carrying out their duties as military defense lawyers that the young lawyer who worked with me on that matter would be publicly attacked for having done so. And yet this week that lawyer and eight other Justice Department attorneys have been attacked in a video released by a group called Keep America Safe (whose board members include William Kristol and Elizabeth Cheney) for having provided legal assistance to detainees before joining the department. The video questions their loyalty to the United States, asking: “DOJ: Department of Jihad?” and “Who are these government officials? . . . Whose values do they share?”

. . .

That [the lawyers] in question would have their patriotism, loyalty and values attacked by reputable public figures such as Elizabeth Cheney and journalists such as Kristol is as depressing a public episode as I have witnessed in many years. What has become of our civic life in America? The only word that can do justice to the personal attacks on these fine lawyers — and on the integrity of our legal system — is shameful. Shameful.

Thank god for our founding fathers — John Adams, honorable lawyer.

Whose values do the lawyers for Guantanamo detainees share? John Adams’, for one:

John Adams, in his old age, called his defense of British soldiers in 1770 “one of the most gallant, generous, manly, and disinterested actions of my whole life, and one of the best pieces of service I ever rendered my country.” That’s quite a statement, coming as it does from perhaps the most underappreciated great man in American history.

The day after British soldiers mortally wounded five Americans on a cobbled square in Boston, thirty-four-year-old Adams was visted in his office near the stairs of the Town Office by a Boston merchant , James Forest. “With tears streaming from his eyes” (according to the recollection of Adams), Forest asked Adams to defend the soldiers and their captain, Thomas Preston. Adams understood that taking the case would not only subject him to criticism, but might jeopardize his legal practice or even risk the safety of himself and his family. But Adams believed deeply that every person deserved a defense, and he took on the case without hesitation. For his efforts, he would receive the modest sum of eighteen guineas.

So when Lynn Cheney’s group, keepamericasafe.com, suggests that there’s something un-American about the fact that lawyers in the Justice Department have defended Guantanamo detainees, the real question is this: why is keepamericasafe.com spouting the un-American propaganda that those accused of wrongdoing are not entitled to a defense and to requiring proof of their wrongdoing? In fact, as Adam Serwer reports,

Lt. Col. David Frakt, who has represented detainees both in military and civilian courts, said that the lawyers who secured due process rights for detainees were ultimately vindicated. “There is an assumption there that has proven to be a fallacy, which is that everyone at Guantanamo was a terrorist,” Frakt says, pointing to the fact that the government has lost three-quarters of the habeas petitions filed by detainees at Guantanamo. “What we have seen over and over and over is that the vast majority of detainees at Guantanamo are innocent.”

This is, in short, ugly, anti-American propaganda:

Our capacity to be just is measured by our capacity to do justice to those most in need of it.

The only way to do justice is to provide opportunities for justice. 50 years ago, in Gideon v. Wainwright, the Supreme Court ruled that a criminal defendant has a constitutional right to representation by a lawyer and that, if he cannot afford one, the state must provide him with one. Now, with our states and local governments starving for money, this foundation of our justice system is sorely threatened. Two lawyers whose careers have been devoted to these issues, Virginia Sloan and (my good friend) Cait Clarke, write:

The report of the Constitution Project’s National Right to Counsel Committee, Justice Denied: America’s Continuing Neglect of Our Constitutional Right to Counsel, is the most comprehensive examination of the indigent defense crisis in over 30 years. The Committee, whose members represent every relevant part of the criminal justice system, including prosecutors, judges, victim advocates, defenders, bar leaders, and scholars, unanimously concluded that this country’s indigent defense system is in crisis, that the government has for too long ignored its obligation to provide lawyers in these cases, and that it cannot be ignored anymore. The report outlines 22 urgently-needed recommendations for reform.

One of the most important recommendations is that indigent defense should be provided through an independent, non-partisan authority that appoints qualified, experienced lawyers who have adequate resources. Of equal significance is the recommendation that the federal government assist the states in ensuring that the Sixth Amendment is protected and that poor people have the kind of lawyers to which they are constitutionally entitled. The federal government provides badly-needed funding for law enforcement and prosecutors, but to continue doing so without also providing funding for public defense services simply exacerbates the already untenable situation.

Another recommendation is that the federal government should create a federal office of public defense services to distribute funds, collect data, promulgate standards, and develop and deliver training similar to the federally-supported training for state and local prosecutors. Additionally, the federal government should require all states to abide by national standards for public defense. Adoption of the American Bar Association’s Ten Principles would provide constitutionally adequate legal representation for criminal defendants unable to afford an attorney.

One innovative idea that will improve the quality of representation for indigent defendants is to create a national fellowship program to cultivate and train the next generation of indigent defense lawyers. This would dramatically increase the number and caliber of lawyers working to secure justice for clients and communities. Equal Justice Works, working in partnership with the Southern Public Defender Training Center (SPDTC), is proposing to do just that.

Justice Department: Torture Memos were “insane” but not the product of professional misconduct

From Jurist

The US Department of Justice (DOJ) [official website] has overruled the findings of a report [DOJ Ethics Report] released Friday concluding that two Bush administration lawyers committed professional misconduct when they wrote memos [JURIST news archive] authorizing the use of certain interrogation techniques that critics have called torture. Instead, the DOJ said that John Yoo [academic profile; JURIST news archive], and Jay Bybee [official profile; JURIST news archive] were only guilty of “poor judgment” in writing the memos. An internal ethics investigation by the Office of Professional Responsibility (OPR) concluded that Yoo had committed “intentional professional misconduct when he violated his duty to exercise independent legal judgment and render thorough, objective and candid legal advice.” The report also found that Bybee had committed professional misconduct when he acted in “reckless disregard” of his duty to exercise independent legal advice. However, David Margolis, an associate deputy attorney general, released a separate memo [DOJ Margolis Report] overruling the OPR’s report, finding its analysis was flawed because it did not have a clear definition of what constitutes professional misconduct.

Back in August of 2008, when I began writing this blog, I explained my then long-held conviction that the White House Office of Legal Counsel — and in particular Jay Bybee (now a federal judge) and John Yoo (a tenured law professor) had acted immorally and in violation of their professional duties as lawyers in writing the so-called “torture memos” that gave legal approval to the torture the Bush Administration began. Both the DOJ Report and the DOJ Margolis Report confirm the details of  what I wrote back in 2008 — the memos were plainly written to justify a pre-determined conclusion. As I wrote then:

Somehow a justice department lawyer who is now a tenured professor at Boalt Hall Law School at U.C. Berkeley, along with his boss, who is now a judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit, thought they could get away with this utterly fictional definition of “severe pain.” And they did. Plainly, though, Yoo does not believe in constraints. In December 2005 he stated in a Chicago debate that there is no law that could prevent the President from theoretically ordering the torture of a child of a suspect in custody – including by crushing that child’s testicles.”

And now the DOJ Margolis Report concludes that “the’ evidence of the knowing violations . . . led us to conclude that Yoo put his desire to accommodate the client above his obligation to provide thorough, objective, and candid. legal advice, and that he thereforecommitted intentional professional misconduct.”

Mr. Margolis in the DOJ Margolis Report also stated:

While I have declined to adopt O.P.R.’s findings of misconduct, I fear that John Yoo’s loyalty to his own ideology and convictions clouded his view of his obligation to his client and led him to author opinions that reflected his own extreme, albeit sincerely held, view of executive power while speaking for an institutional client.

The reports really are remarkable testaments to how far the Bush Administration went to force its desire to torture within a rule of law that does not permit torture. Among other things, the DOJ Ethics Report quotes other Bush Justice Department appointees stating that John Yoo needed “adult supervision” and describing the torture memos as “insane,” a “one-sided effort to eliminate any hurdles posed by the torture law,” “plainly wrong,”  and “slovenly”:

Our view that the memoranda were seriously deficient was consistent with comments made by some of tlie former Department officials we interviewed, even though those individuals would not necessarily agree witl! some of our findings in this matter. [Daniel] Levin stated that when he first read the Bybee Memo, “[I had} the same reaction I think everybody who reads it has - 'this is insane, who wrote this?'". Jack Goldsmith found that the memoranda were "riddled with error," concluded that key portions were "plainly wrong," .and characterized them as a "one-sided effort to eliminate any hurdles posed by the torture law." [Steven G.] Bradbury told us that Yoo did not adequately consider counter arguments in writing the memoranda and that “somebody should have exercised some adult leadership” with respect to Yoo’s section on the Commander-tn-Chief powers. [Michael] Mukasey acknowledged that the Bybee Memo was “a slovenly mistake,” even though he urged us not to find misconduct.

” Insane” about sums it up. You’re not acting as a lawyer if the research and analysis you do is insane. But, I guess, “insane” is not a sufficiently firm legal standard for Mr. Margolis. The funny thing is that I’d expect any reviewing official who didn’t see discern a standard in the report he was reviewing to state the proper standard and make his own determination whether the facts set forth satisfied or did not satisfy that standard. Or he could have sent the matter back to the ethics people with instruction to set forth a clear standard. Instead, he plainly was looking for a way to find no ethical violations here. Honestly, if the flat out lies about the law contained in the torture memos is permitted, then anything is permitted in the “war on terror.” Which, of course, is exactly Yoo’s position.

There’s wealth and then there’s wealth.

One of the most common criticisms of a lot (not all!) of the so-called “economic” analysis that has dominated the political and legal minds of the last 30 years is its inability to account for value that cannot be reduced to monetary terms. The criticism, while duly noted, tends to be immediately forgotten. As a result, we’ve had an entire generation that’s felt compelled to justify its decisions on purely economic terms. The economic crisis may be affecting this tendency as much as its affecting other ways of viewing the world. Last year, some big law firms that were getting less work from their clients gave graduating law students to whom they’d given offers of permanent employment an offer that sounded to good to be true: go get another job — let it be low paying and “public interest” — and we’ll pay you a part of your salary in the expectation you’ll come work for us permanently next year. But now, according to Georgetown Law Grad Russ Ferguson, those firms are finding out, to their surprise, that the students who took advantage of the offer like their alternative jobs too much. Most importantly, they’re realizing that they’re wealthier in real terms in their lower paying jobs:

These new lawyers have found that their new jobs are more fulfilling and more interesting, and — more importantly — they’ve seen that they can live on a smaller salary. As one of my classmates put it, “Add up the hours I worked this week and add up the hours my friends at law firms worked. Divide our salaries by the amount of hours and you’ll see — I’m rich.”

(hat tip to the ABA Law Journal)

What is a Judicial Author?

I have posted on SSRN a copy of an article entitled “What is a Judicial Author?” I presented several years ago at a conference. I have learned to my utmost gratitude that Lewis Hyde will be quoting and citing the article in his forthcoming, much-anticipated book on the cultural commons. As the article’s abstract explains:

This paper, originally presented in draft at the Con/Texts of Invention Conference sponsored by the Society for Critical Exchange, examines the ways in which judges write opinions, the ways experienced and inexperienced legal readers conceptualize judges as authors, and the affect these conceptions have on the way they read those opinions. The paper describes judicial writing as a quintessential example of collaborative writing, a view corroborated by the ways experienced lawyers use and interpret judicial opinions in practice. The judicial opinion is not, as lay opinion grounded in the Romantic view that forms contemporary common wisdom would have it, the original work of the wise and creative judge pronouncing from on high. Rather, the opinion itself is a piece cobbled together from a number of other sources that include established law, the lawyers’ written and spoken legal arguments, secondary legal sources, and earlier opinions that were themselves built up from the bits and pieces floating through the legal discourse community. Nevertheless, conventional legal thinking has since at least the 19 th Century through today propounded the notion of the judge as quintessentially Romantic author-creator. This clash between legal practice and the conventions of legal (and especially academic) discourse poses real and neglected problems in legal education, especially in the ways the Romantic view of judicial authorship instills in students habits of reading.

If you understand the uses and limits of maps, you can begin to understand the uses and limits of legal rules (and it doesn’t hurt to know the offside rules in soccer and hockey)

Jeff Lipshaw of Suffolk Law School has been asked to teach Suffolk’s six credit contracts course next year and has “been puzzling . . . about . . . teaching philosophy.” As he claims, “Contracts is the often the bane of the first year experience, and I am thinking about hitting the reasons head on.” I think Lipshaw’s point is the same I’ve been trying to get across frequently in this blog — learning law (and perhaps, especially, contract law)  is not a matter of learning rules you apply to the world, thence to go on your merry way as a lawyer who knows and understands law. Rules are useful guides, but different rules are useful in different situations; when a situation changes, a particular rule may be useless — it may be too specific, and not take into account specifics never contemplated when the rule was formulated, or it may be too general to be of any practical use.

Lipshaw writes (emphasis added):

I’ve concluded instead that the way to approach the subject (and relieve some student angst at the same time) is to reject at the outset the idea that what they are learning maps on the real world.  It is more helpful to think of contract law as most casebooks begin – with the idea of the objective law of contracts, or, as we say more explicitly in areas like partnership, the default rules upon which the legal consequences of a binding promise will be imposed on parties after the fact when indeed there is no subjective evidence of an intent to be bound at all, or legally, or on what specific terms. . . . Said with more jargon, contract law may or may not map well onto the reality of private ordering, and the mistake most students make is to try to make the map work. No – an integrated law of contracts, if one exists, is a figment of the . . . imagination, a way of trying to make unified sense of the whole of private ordering, whether that sense-making is by way of formalism or contextualism (or efficiency or the promise principle, to bring the debate forward in time).

Put otherwise, if the reality of private ordering is metropolitan Boston, contract doctrine is a map, based on the mapmaker’s view of what is important.  But you could have a road map of major highways, a topographic map, a detailed street map, a map of population densities, etc.  This is merely one map, or several competing maps. . . . .

Finally, the difficulty with putting aside whatever sense of reality we might have, and reconstructing the rules of the model (or game?) on their own is a little like trying to master the rules of cricket without making analogies to baseball, or the rules of rugby without making analogies to American or international football.  Let’s say you are playing cricket, and you do something that cause the other team to cry “foul!”  You have to make your argument why what you did was legal in cricket terms, not baseball terms.  That doesn’t mean there couldn’t have been other ways to play cricket, or that the world would be better off if we interpreted the rules of cricket differently, but to win the argument we have to fashion it in a way that appears to be consistent with cricket.  Contract law is the set of rules making up the objective contract litigation game, and some arguments based on those rules are cricket, and some are not.

A map that I draw you to get you to my house will likely be of little use in helping you navigate your way to other places in Ohio, but it will be very helpful as a means of getting you to my house. Then again, most maps of Ohio I’ve seen would be of little use in getting you to my house (which is on a road leading from one side street ending in 2 other side streets, none of which lead to a street (much less a highway) of any significance). And I could explain to you how being offside in soccer is akin to being offside in hockey, and doing so would help you understand the common purposes of the 2 rules (to avoid cherry picking), but when I’m arguing about being offside in soccer I better not be using rules and jargon from ice hockey.

Or, if you’d like to get even more involved in considering the role of maps in understanding the uses and abuses of rules, it’s well worth considering an article written by Boaventura De Sousa Santos, Law: a Map of Misreading. Toward a Postmodern Conception of Law, 14 J. of Law and Society 279, 282-283 (1987)(footnotes omitted; hyperlinks added):

UNDERSTANDING MAPS

The main structural feature of maps is that in order to fulfill their function they inevitably distort reality. The great Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges has told us the story of the emperor who ordered the production of an exact map ofhis empire. He insisted that the map should be exact to the most minute detail. The best cartographers of the time were engaged in this important project. Eventually, they produced the map and, indeed, it could not possibly be more exact, as it coincided point by point with the empire. However, to their frustration, it was not a very practical map, since it was of the same size asthe empire.

To be practical a map cannot coincide point by point with reality. However, the distortion of reality thus produced will not automatically involve the distortion of truth, if the mechanisms by which the distortion of reality is accomplished are known and can be controlled. And, indeed, that is the case. . . . As the American cartographer Mark Monmonier put it:

[A]ll advantages and limitations of maps derive from the degree to which maps reduce and generalise reality, compress or expand shapes and distances and portray selected phenomena with signs that communicate without necessarily resembling visible or invisible characteristics of the landscapes. The three elements of a map are interdependent. Scale influences the amount of detail that can be shown and determines whether or not a particular kind of symbol will be visually effective.

Maps should be convenient to use. There is thus a permanent tension in maps between representation and orientation. These are contradictory claims and maps are always unstable compromises between them. Too much representation may hinder orientation, as we saw in Borges’s map. Inversely, a very accurate orientation may result from a rather poor and elementary representation of reality.

When you are invited to a party in a house whose location you do not know, the host will probably draw a map which will be very effective in orienting you though very inaccurate in representing the features of the environment along the way to your destination. One more example: some of you may have seen medieval portolans, those maps of ports and coasts well-renowned in the Middle Ages which, though very poor as far as representation of the globe goes, were very effective in orienting navigators .at sea. There are maps that solve the tension between representation and orientation in favour of representation. These I would call, borrowing from French cartography, image maps. Other maps solve the tension in favourof orientation. These are instrumental maps.

I would like to suggest that this dialectic of representation and orientation applies to law as much as it applies to maps. In the analysis of .the relations between law and society we should [consider] the simple paradigm of correspondence/non-correspondence. In the following I will linger on maps a little while to analyse in more detail each one of the procedures through which maps distort reality. In the process I hope to interest you in the fascinating world of maps. As Josef Konvitz has said, “lt is a supreme irony that maps, though they are one ofthe most common cultural metaphors, are still far from occupying the place they deserve in the history of mentalities.”

One common distortion of which most of us remain unaware is the ways the traditional mercator projection of the map of the world grossly distorts the relative sizes of the earth’s various landmasses. Below is the Arno Peters map , which, as Sirius Bark of Temple 3 explains “isn’t perfect (every map (and rule) creates some distortion), but . . . does address some of the overall size distortions which dominate our more well-known Mercator projections” (emphasis and hyperlinks added):

Nesson continues to blame others for his lousy job of lawyering.

The  Harvard Law Record reported yesterday on Charlie Nesson’s address to : a room full of HLS students to explain his motivations and methods as the lawyer representing Joel Tenenbaum in Sony BMG Music v. Tenenbaum, the case that resulted in a $675,000 judgment against his client.

I have on more than one occasion expressed my harsh views regarding Nesson’s lawyering in the case (here and here). But the Harvard Law Record’s story only adds fuel to my fury at Nesson’s lawyering skills. According to the story, “When the case first came to his attention, Nesson knew that there was little chance of victory on the merits, with the only truly viable strategy at trial being the minimization of damages.” (emphasis added)

The RIAA cannot have been happy about the way it looks after winning a judgment of $675,000 from a kid, especially since, as Nesson with some degree of accuracy explains, “[w]hat Joel did in downloading and sharing songs was what just about every kid in his generation did and which I bet a great many of you did.” The RIAA was anxious to settle a similar case in which it won $1.92 million from Jammie Thomas-Rasset for illegally downloading 24 songs. As Mike Masnick wrote, the RIAA “seems to recognize that the insanity of the $1.92 million doesn’t do it any favors. Even the musicians whose music was part of the case are embarrassed by the amount. . . . the RIAA would love to settle the lawsuit for some lower amount so it can run around touting the ‘risks’of file sharing without having people laugh outloud when hearing that someone had to pay $1.92 million for potentially sharing 24 songs that could be bought for $1 each.”

And Tennenbaum quite plainly had the ability to minimize damages through settlement rather than by means of Nesson’s tactic of going to trial. In February, Ars Technica reported that the “RIAA’s initial offer to settle, made way back in 2003, was for $3,500. Joel offered $500, which was declined. After the case went to court in 2007, the judge ordered the parties to settle and work it out between themselves. Joel offered $5,000. The RIAA demanded $10,500.”

And yet Nesson, realizing that “there was little chance of victory on the merits” and that the only viable way of representing his client’s best interests was to minimize the amount of his liability, failed to settle a case that at most would have cost his client $10,500 (assuming, contrary to any notion of common negotiating sense, that the RIAA would not have moved off of its last offer).

The Harvard Law Record’s story goes on to state that “the evidence presented by the RIAA . . . made it look like Tenenbaum blamed others and lied,” thereby interfering “with his effort to appear credible and sympathetic.” The problem is that the evidence didn’t merely make it “look like” Tenenbaum lied. He admitted in trial that had lied in sworn statements he had made before trial that he had not used peer-to-peer file sharing networks to download and upload recordings.

I’ve said it again and again. I’m no fan of the RIAA. The recording industry’s business and legal responses to the technological revolution that has deprived them of their former monopoly on the means of mass producing and distributing recorded music have been, to my legal and business mind, idiotic. But Nesson was Tenenbaum’s lawyer. His professional judgment as a lawyer was that any legal defense to the RIAA’s claims had little chance of success and that the best lawyering job he could do for his Tenenbaum was to minimize the damages he would be liable for. Nesson clearly had the opportunity to do so. That he passed up that opportunity in a quixotic fight for a principle might be something a lot of people admire, but it’s terrible lawyering.