The King Is Still Alive, and I Want To Copyright It

From the Frequently Asked Questions page of the U.S. Copyright Office’s website:

How do I protect my sighting of Elvis?
Copyright law does not protect sightings. However, copyright law will protect your photo (or other depiction) of your sighting of Elvis. File your claim to copyright online by means of the electronic Copyright Office (eCO). Pay the fee online and attach a copy of your photo. Or, go to the Copyright Office website, fill in Form CO, print it, and mail it together with your photo and fee. For more information on registration a copyright, see SL-35. No one can lawfully use your photo of your sighting, although someone else may file his own photo of his sighting. Copyright law protects the original photograph, not the subject of the photograph.

How many times exactly has this question been asked for it to qualify as “frequent”?

-Susan

Being A Law Professor Is Tough

Apparently, being a law professor is no cake walk.  Two stories out today suggest that law professors have to deal with a lot of junk we don’t often hear about.

First, a former clinic director at George Mason Law is suing the school for sexual harassment.  Kyndra Rotunda, wife of constitutional law scholar Ron Rotunda, claims her clinic’s executive director harassed her during her time there, forcing her to eventually quit.  The Rotundas are now in California at Chapman Law; they announced they were “pleased to be leaving” Washington last year.

Second, a Georgetown law professor testifying before Congress today dug up some ugly stories of alleged discrimination from his time at UVa Law.  William Eskidge, Jr., who is gay, alleges that he was yelled at and potentially deferred for tenure at UVa because of his sexual orientation. 

“With clenched fists and a beet-red face, the chair of the committee threw a tantrum that included a string of accusations, such as ‘stabbing me in the back’ and behaving in the treacherous manner that he and his colleagues ought to have expected of a ‘faggot,’ ” says Eskridge in his testimony to the House Committee on Education and Labor.

Who knew law school was tough for the professors as well?

-Michael

A Response To Scalia’s Blathering

Although Susan has already covered Scalia’s recent ramblings, I was planning to do as well, so I’ll throw a few more thoughts in.  Much of what Susan said addresses how law rightfully attracts intelligent individuals.  She also takes a law and economics approach to explaining the social value that lawyering actually generates.  Although law and economics is nothing new on this blog, I think it’s also useful to return to first principles for a moment.  When returning to those principles, these types of comments from Scalia–a strong defender of personal freedom and respect for history–are even more incomprehensible.

When our nation was first created, we chose three essential principles to hold most dear: “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”  Our forefathers created this nation because we felt that the bonds of an oppressive government stood in opposition to the achievement of those fundamental goals.  Even though we may be free from the chains of the British crown, government and law are still potential tools of oppression.  Therefore, it becomes the duty of those involved in our legal system to ensure that those values are preserved.

“The public defender from Podunk” is one example of one of the last lines of defense against the destruction of liberty.  If that young woman “wasn’t really brilliant,” perhaps innocent men would be tried, jailed, and stamped with the badge of dishonor that a felony conviction is often taken to be.  That young woman might go out and “invent the automobile,” but our country may face a horrible tradeoff for those four wheels: we may have more of our citizens unjustly stripped of their three most important possessions: life, liberty, and happiness.  The criminal lawyer, therefore, is the protector of these personal rights from societal oppression.

I understand these arguments might seem most relevant in the criminal context, but I think civil lawyers do something terribly important as well.  If we go back even further to the First Continental Congress’ Declaration of Colonial Rights, we find a different description of our most cherished national belongings: “life, liberty, and property.”  The civil lawyer, therefore, guards against the unjust deprivation of the property that is rightfully his.  The civil lawyer, therefore, is the protector of these property rights from societal oppression.

For any devoted constitutionalist to disavow these cardinal values is deplorable.  For Scalia to use his position of power to espouse these views is just plain stupid.

-Michael

Update:  Now folks over at Volokh are talking about this, too.

Global Trivia Question of the Day

Q: Under International Law 101, statehood is determined, in part, by the diplomatic recognition of other states. In most cases, there exists a well established global consensus on whether any particularly entity is or is not a state, but there are exceptions. What are the seven United Nations member states that are not recognized by at least one other U.N. member state?

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Does Scalia believe the world would be better off if he were a mathematician instead?

I do love Scalia, but his thoughts on the wasted talents of brilliant legal minds strike me as uncharacteristically short sighted.

“I used to have just the opposite reaction,” Scalia said, according to the Law Blog account. “I used to be disappointed that so many of the best minds in the country were being devoted to this enterprise.

“I mean there’d be a … public defender from Podunk, you know, and this woman is really brilliant, you know. Why isn’t she out inventing the automobile or, you know, doing something productive for this society?

“I mean lawyers, after all, don’t produce anything. They enable other people to produce and to go on with their lives efficiently and in an atmosphere of freedom. That’s important, but it doesn’t put food on the table, and there have to be other people who are doing that. And I worry that we are devoting too many of our very best minds to this enterprise.”

The first objection is the obvious — I remain extremely skeptical that “so many of the best minds in the country” are truly inefficiently allocated to the study of law. People who are involved in the legal field will, unquestionably, encounter many brilliant people who are also in the legal field — because that’s mostly who they meet. This doesn’t mean there are somehow more of them there. And even though lawyers are the most likely profession to become prominent via politics and to achieve elected office, well, I’m pretty sure Scalia isn’t accusing our politicians of being the best minds in the country.

Second, even if it were true, it’s not clear to me that it would be a waste, per se, to have your best minds working as lawyers. Inasmuch as “law” can be said to have a purpose, its purpose is to reduce society’s transaction costs. That may not in itself be producing new goods or products, but it is increasing societal wealth.

Lawyers aren’t parasites, they’re route finders; the legal profession provides a highly specialized service that directs you in how to go from legal condition A to legal condition B. Sure, you’d probably be able to figure it out for yourself, eventually — but it would take you eons longer than someone who’s already spent a big chunk of their life learning that sort of thing. So having brilliant people focused on figuring out the best ways to bring down the inherent costs of human interactions doesn’t strike me as a bad thing.

Third and finally, even if our best and brightest were overrepresented in the legal field, that doesn’t mean society would necessarily be better off if they were directed to a different field instead. Although there are plenty of exceptions, I’d say that, for the most part, the good lawyers I’ve met are good because their talents and interests make them uniquely situated for legal work. They are good at rhetoric, good at logic and obfuscation, good at writing, good at wading through abstract chains of ideas. If they couldn’t be lawyers, they might make for great English professors or diplomats, but I don’t exactly see them going out and inventing the automobile.

-Susan

The infallible dog is a creature of legal fiction.

This article today at CNN reminded me of something I’ve been interested in for a while now — the reliability of sniffer dog use in criminal investigations and law enforcement.

There are two major uses of dogs in this context that are highly problematic: use of dogs for “scent lineups” to identify criminal suspects and use of narcotics detecting dogs. (In most other contexts, I’m a-okay pretty much across the board with dog tracking– I don’t have any problems with using dogs for detecting explosives or for border searches.) While drug scenting dogs are a much more complicated legal problem, relating to the constitutional requirement of probable cause for Fourth Amendment purposes, the use of dogs for scent lineups has a much greater empirical problem, and their use in the courtroom has not been methodologically sound [PDF].

The requirements for a sniffer dog to be certified are not particularly rigorous, and in Texas and Florida especially, it looks as if a lot of innocent people have been put behind bars as a result of unscrupulous practices by dog trainers. A major problem in the use of scent lineups is that, while dogs actually are pretty good at picking out the “correct” scent from a list of possibilities put before them, when provided with a scent line up with no correct matches, the dogs will all too often default to a “closest match” and produce a false positive.

For the use of narcotics dogs, the science isn’t much more comforting. Although you generally won’t get a false conviction because of the use of a drug sniffer dog (either the police find the drugs on you or they don’t), their use amounts to a real infringement on Fourth Amendment protections. Under United States v. Place, brief detention by law enforcement in a public area for the purpose of carrying out a “dog sniff” is not a search for Fourth Amendment purposes. In Illinois v. Caballes, Justice Souter dissented (from which the title of this post is also taken), noting that:

At the heart of both Place and the Court’s opinion today is the proposition that sniffs by a trained dog are sui generis because a reaction by the dog in going alert is a response to nothing but the presence of contraband. . . . Hence, the argument goes, because the sniff can only reveal the presence of items devoid of any legal use, the “sniff does not implicate legitimate privacy interests” and is not to be treated as a search. . . .

Pretty much every circuit — except possibly my home circuit, the 11th, which has not “squarely addressed” the question — treats it as probable cause to undergo a search when a sniffer dog gives a positive hit. The only evidentiary standards are that the handler must testify to the dog being “trained” and “reliable”. (The only exception to this rule that a not-particularly-thorough search turned up: United States v. Trayer, 898 F.2d 805, 808 (D.C. Cir. 1990)(dog giving positive hit alert at sleeper car on train is not in itself probable cause)).

And most worryingly, some circuits only look at the training of the dog, not the handler. This is pretty faulty reasoning, as the trainer is half the equation — they’re the ones who have to interpret what the dog is indicating. See United States v. Outlaw, 134 F.Supp.2d 701, 813 (5th Cir. 2003) (“an alert is simply an interpretation of a change in the dog’s behavior by a human handler”). In addition to bad trainers who aren’t used to the dogs and don’t know when they’re giving an alert, there’s also the possibility of very closely trained dog/handler combos being susceptible to the Clever Hans effect.

Dogs just aren’t perfect. For example, tired dogs do significantly worse than rested dogs — dogs can’t sweat so they have to pant to dissipate heat, and unfortunately you can’t exactly pant and sniff at the same time — so an overworked and overheated dog is going to produce less reliable results. However, even assuming all dogs are as infallible as Rin Tin Tin, a positive alert from a narcotics dog just doesn’t seem to meet the threshold for probable cause.

Using Bayes’ theorem, and granting dubiously high estimates of dog accuracy (98%) at detecting when drugs are present, and assuming .5% of the population possesses drugs on them at any given time, then then the odds of a dog alert correctly indicating the presence of drugs is only 1 in 5.

“If the dog sniffs 10,000 people, 50 (10,000 x .005) will possess drugs. Out of these, the dog will correctly alert to 49 (50 x .98). Of the remaining 9950 people that do not possess drugs, the dog will falsely alert to 2% of this group, resulting in 199 (9950 x .02) false detections.

Out of this population of 10,000, the dog has positively alerted to 248 people, 49 of which are correct detections and 199 are false alerts. Thus, the probability that an individual actually possesses cocaine based on this dog is 49 out of 248, a detection rate of less than 20%.” Robert Bird, An Examination of the Training and Reliability of the Narcotics Detection Dog, 85 Ky. L.J. 405 (1996).

That doesn’t sound like probable cause to me.

-Susan

“Readers who find Figure II puzzling should recall that a diagram of an imaginary axis must, of course, itself be imaginary.”

I spent a fair chunk of yesterday sitting out on the patio reading Elizabeth Moon’s Trading in Danger. It should surprise no one that I absolutely adored it. A scifi adventure novel premised upon the profit to be gained from interstellar trade, you say? Why yes that does in fact sound like something I’d quite enjoy reading. (And, like many of Moon’s books, it features a strong female protagonist in a universe where gender is irrelevant to your qualifications for any job. I think I’m in love!)

The bad news about the future is that there are still tariffs. Looks like we’re going to develop an FTL drive before we actually achieve free trade. (Sadly, I would consider this to be a rather realistic proposition.) But the book manages to create one of the few scifi universes I’ve encountered where the idea of backwater worlds still using horse-and-plows for agriculture actually made sense. In Serenity, I was never quite able to accept the whole Wild Wild West theme– it was based on planetary cultures deliberately choosing to embrace a cowboy lifestyle rather than the cowboy lifestyle making sense given the resources available. But Trading in Danger depicts an economic and political system for the galaxy where encountering a mix of archaic farming techniques and space-age technology makes perfect sense.

In addition to that, other notable features of the book include: 1) A galactic corporation with a monopoly on the instantaneous communication market — and its relentless rent-seeking behaviors in order to maintain that monopoly serve as the backdrop for the events of the series; 2) A constant evaluation of opportunity costs, struggles of where to allocate cash on hand and when to take on a loan given the prevailing interest rates, and arguments over how credit ratings apply to sub-entities of corporate structures. The characters are traders, after all, and thus their internal struggles over where the best trading opportunities are to be found are prominently featured; and, 3) Constant wrangling over contract law, such as how breach and damages are to be determined when a system civil war breaks, or what indemnity clauses are to be included in the final text of an agreement.

And last, but not least, there is ample quoting from the IUCC. That’s right — the Interstellar Uniform Commercial Code. It made me so nostalgic for Martha Ertman’s Contracts course; I can totally imagine Prof. Ertman chilling out on a starship somewhere waxing rhapsodic about the default contract terms provided for under IUCC Art. 347.2.

So of course the whole time I was reading the book I had Krugman’s essay “A Theory of Interstellar Trade” in mind. (It’s worth reading simply for its groan-inducing jokes and references to science fiction, physics, and academia. Such as setting up his graphs so that his line is named ET.)

“If trading space vessels move at high velocities, we can no longer have an unambiguous measure of the time taken in transit. The time taken by the spacecraft to make a round trip will appear less to an observer on the craft than to one remaining on Earth. Since an interstellar voyage is an investment project which must have a positive present value, there is obviously a problem in deciding which transit time to use in the present value calculation.”

The essay’s not directly applicable to Elizabeth Moon’s universe, as Krugman assumes (slightly more realistically) that FTL travel is not possible, and thus deals with the relativistic effects that approaching-light-speed travel causes. With time distortion + lack of instantaneous communication, can interstellar arbitrage result in equalized interplanetary interest rates? Yes, actually — well, assuming we can stay within the bounds of special relativity. Krugman makes no representations as to how his theory might apply to non-inertial reference frames.

Although Krugman rejects FTL and instantaneous communication, he does assume that even if our technology will not have discovered how to break the light speed barrier, our economic systems will have discovered the near-equivalent: perfect forecasts on the price of goods over indefinite periods of time. In Trading for Danger, nothing close to this exists — which is a good thing, as it’s that very uncertainty over prices that provides a fair share of the drama and obstacles faced by the characters. The traders must make months-long trips between star systems based upon speculation on where the most profitable transactions are to be had, and if you guess wrong, you’re down a whole lot of time and credits. (Yes, they do have FTL — but given acceleration and deceleration times, it’s no quick jaunt to go between stars.)

So I’m going to add a Third Fundamental Theorem of Interstellar Trade to Krugman’s article: for good science fiction, you need to screw around with the laws of physics as the plot demands, but hold your laws of economics constant. Imagining FTL is more fun than imagining perfect futures markets.

-Susan

CritCart: Maps For Liberals

I have a weird fascination with maps — I could probably list “staring at maps” as a hobby, but that’d make me sound like a freak, so I won’t. They’re just cool. I think it’s the combination of so many different fields that appeals to me; there’s so much going on. Pretty much any map is going to involve geography — why do the Rockies dwarf the Blue Ridge Mountains? Why are the Hawaiian islands in a chain like that?; history — take a look at these old maps of Georgia. Atlanta doesn’t even make an appearance until 1855, and Decatur is the regional hub!; art — how to make maps that are, in addition to being accurate, understandable and pretty; math — okay, admittedly, the math part is of less interest to me, but I’m sure if I actually understood the math behind cartography, I’d think it was awesome; anthropology — why are human settlements located where they are?; psychology — psychology and cartography have a lot more to do with each other than you might guess; and politics — especially politics. Plus there’s toponomy, which has got to be one of the coolest academic fields ever. If law doesn’t work out for me, I’m totally going to be a toponymist. And finally, historical mapmaking provides for awesome adventure stories.

Okay, I’ll stop rambling now, but the point of all that? Maps are really cool, and everyone else should recognize that too. And also, more importantly, I’ll probably use this blog to talk about maps at least on a semi-regular basis, so it’d be nice if I could maybe convince a couple people to actually be interested in what I’m writing about.

And as a basic-but-cool intro post on maps, I thought I’d write about critical cartography. Critical cartography is, like critical legal theory, a movement that disputes the idea that our cultural infrastructure is inherently neutral and value-free, and argues instead that our institutions are pervasively biased in a manner that entrenches existing social hierarchies and power structures.

Maps are not photographs; they’re very deliberate, precise, thought out human creations. Maps doesn’t show “how the world really is,” but rather the world as the cartographer wanted to show it. The best introduction to critical cartography is Brian Harley’s Deconstructing the Map [PDF].

The ‘rule of ethnocentricity’ — whereby most societies have maps that place their own homeland in the middle:

“[T]he scientific Renaissance in Europe gave modern cartography coordinate systems, Euclid, scale maps, and accurate measurement, but it also helped to confirm a new myth of Europe’s ideological centrality through projections such as those of Mercator. Or again, in our own century, a tradition of the exclusivity of America was enhanced before World War II by placing it in its own hemisphere (‘our hemisphere’) on the world map. Throughout the history of cartography ideological ‘Holy Lands’ are frequently centered on maps. Such centricity, a kind of ‘subliminal geometry,’ adds geopolitical force and meaning to representation. It is also arguable that such world maps have in turn helped to codify, to legitimate, and to promote the world views which are prevalent in different periods and places.”

And the ‘rule of the social order,’ which results in maps that record not just what the land looks like, but what the social structures between the people on the land look like:

“Pick a printed or manuscript map from the drawer almost at random and what stands out is the unfailing way its text is as much a commentary on the social structure of a particular nation or place as it is on it topography. The map-maker is often as busy recording the contours of feudalism, the shape of a religious hierarchy, or the steps in the tiers of social class, as the topography of the physical and human landscape… it is taken for granted in a society that the place of the king is more important than the place of a lesser baron, that a castle is more important than a peasant’s house, that the town of an archbishop is more important than that of a minor prelate, or that the estate of a landed gentleman is more worthy of emphasis than that of a plain farmer. Cartography deploys its vocabulary accordingly so that it embodies a systematic social inequality.”

And for a visual example, check out the two maps below — the Mercator Projection and the Gall-Peters Projection. The Gall-Peters map was introduced as a challenge to the more traditional Mercator map — which depicts Greenland the same size as Africa, even though it’s 14 times smaller in reality. Neither map is objectively “more correct” than the other, but it does suggest that the rules of social order and ethnocentricity are alive and well today.

Gall-Peters-Projection

Mercator-World-Map

-Susan

How Economics Can Be A Plot Point in Fantasy Novels

In King’s Shield — book three of the Inda Series and an entertaining but otherwise unremarkable sword-and-sorcery fantasy novel by Sherwood Smith — I was very pleased to see that the existence of economics was not merely recognized, but used to advance the plot. Too often in fantasy novels, money is assumed to conveniently exist. Kings can declare wars, and they absent mindedly cover the costs “out of the treasury.” And everything is paid for in ubiquitous gold coins. Need to stay at an inn? Here, have a gold coin. Need to raise an army? Here, have some more gold coins.

But in King’s Shield, the king goes broke fighting a war and is facing the possibility of his kingdom turning to anarchy if he can’t pay for anything. That alone earns the series some points — far too many books simply gloss over the fact that wars are, well, expensive. So the King’s busy fretting over his empty treasury, and in typical fantasy fashion, the main character — who has spent most his life as a pirate — announces he has a solution to the problem. To paraphrase, “Not to worry! There’s a big old treasure trove full of pirate gold out on an island I know of, let’s just go and fetch that.”

Then the king’s cousin informs him, “That won’t work.”
“Why not?” The pirate asks, dumbfounded.
“Because treasury isn’t treasure.”
“Treasury isn’t treasure?! What the heck is it then?”

The king’s cousin launches into an explanation of how finances work in the land. The pirate is appropriately baffled when he is informed that the “letters of credit” they often use are not actually referring to piles of gold, but are themselves used as money — there’s no gold standard in Iasca Leror. “So you’re telling me,” the pirate says, “we’re just trading letters all over the place? Just pieces of paper with writing on them?” Welcome to fiat currency, Lord Inda.

In fact, the character’s dialogue sort of suggests that in this world, the monetary system operates under Chartalism. The king accepts payment of taxes from each nobleman in the form of established rates of men, horses, supplies, etc., and these taxes of soldiers and supplies can also be measured and paid in ‘kind’ — fantasy-speak for trade between two different goods of equal value.

And in Iasca Leror — where King’s Shield takes place — it turns out that a pirate’s treasure trove has very little value in kind. Because of the years of wars that they’ve been through, interkingdom trade has grinded to a halt. And gold and jewels are useless to Iasca Leror– you can’t eat them, live in them, or ride them, after all.

And thus economics becomes a plot point in high fantasy. As a result of the conversation, the king’s cousin jaunts off on his next adventure — a quest to re-establish interkingdom trade in the world, so that they might export their gold and jewels and turn them into new ships and letters of credit.

Maybe he’ll accomplish this by gathering all the other kingdoms’ representatives together in a place called the Brettonska Woodlands.

-Susan