Initial Thoughts on the Prop 8 Decision

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The 9th Circuit published its opinion in Perry v. Brown today, with a 2-1 majority opinion by Reinhardt upholding the overturning of Proposition 8 on the narrowest possible grounds, and a dissenting opinion from Judge Smith — an outcome that pretty much no one is surprised by.

But even if it’s not a surprising outcome, I am still relieved the decision did end up being as narrow a holding as could be managed. But the majority knew what it was doing, of course, and it did its best to carefully shoehorn Perry into the precedent set down in Romer v. Evans. If gay marriage absolutely has to go in front of the Supreme Court, well, then I guess I’m glad it’s going to be in the context of the 9th Circuit’s opinion here, rather than a potentially more damaging vehicle.

I did end up being pleasantly surprised and impressed by Judge Smith’s dissenting opinion, and I agreed with many of his points over those of the majority far more often than I would have expected. It was certainly more faithful to the concept of rational basis review, anyway, and if it weren’t for two of its ultimate conclusions, I might’ve agreed overall with the dissent’s holding rather than the majority’s.

But there is no possible way I could ever accept the Proponent’s argument that “gay marriage should be banned because because only straight people can get accidentally knocked up, and straight people that accidentally get knocked up might not want to get married if those gay people who can’t accidentally get knocked up are allowed to get married too” with anything resembling a straight face, prior 14th Amendment jurisprudence be damned. Smith’s version of rational basis review would require that courts accept this argument, on the grounds that the government is permitted to (1) use irrational animus as a means of carrying out (2) policies that have no coherent content beyond an empty sound bite. And that’s two bridges too far, for me.

As for the first point, Smith’s footnote 8 does try to distinguish Palmore v. Sidoti by claiming that animus is only prohibited as a means of carrying out a law where that means is based upon creating a suspect classification. But if animus is banned as an end in all cases — rational basis through strict scrutiny — then what could possibly be the constitutional argument for banning animus as a means only in the case of strict scrutiny, but permitting it in all other circumstances?

And for the second point, Smith may be on firmer constitutional standing. But whatever precedent may be, I can’t go along with the argument that a law counts as being “rationally related” to an alleged purpose just so long as a grammatically correct sentence can be formulated which purports to support that claim. When it comes to rational basis review, yes, courts are required to accept a very hefty does of harebrained legislative ideas, no matter how stupid or ridiculous those ideas might be in practice — but even the most properly deferential court should not be required to accept an argument that is, as the majority put it, lacking any basis “on which th[e] argument [c]ould be even conceivably plausible.”

So even if I am skeptical of the strategic soundness of forcing a gay rights case through the courts now, I ultimately agree with the legal analysis of the majority’s opinion. No, it’s not perfectly faithful to past models of rational basis review. But if anything, Perry v. Brown is just another chip off of the slowly eroding concept of strictly tiered classifications under the Fourteenth Amendment. The current law school outline version of the law, which places everything that’s not currently an announced suspect or quasi-suspect class into the same rational basis bucket, just doesn’t match the reality of what is happening in the courts and in society at large. After all, we’ve had, what, two cases before the Supreme Court now, in which a law has been challenged on the basis that it was motivated solely by animus against gay people? And after Perry, it’ll be three. In the context of Supreme Court cases which challenged legislative enactments based on animus towards a specific group, that’s a pretty high number.

And with that kind of pedigree, it’s hard to justify the claim that “homosexuals” is not a class that has been repeatedly subjected to improper legislative discrimination — and even if its not legally recognized as such under the Court’s current classification scheme, as a practical matter, it is plain that a law that makes a distinction on the basis of sexual orientation is one that that warrants an extra dose of skepticism from the judiciary.

-Susan

Motions Practice As Catharsis

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When I was a clerk, I was often forced to slog through motions filled with flowery language, needless rhetoric, and impassioned pleas that were largely unsupported by the evidence. I used to wonder why lawyers would waste one of the most valuable resources in a judge’s chambers–time–by forcing the clerks and the judge to read all that nonsense.  I joked that we needed to apply an “Adjective Rule”: the strength of an argument is inversely proportional to the number of adjectives therein.

Of course, my frustration was a bit hypocritical, as I loved the snooty rhetoric when I was a first-year associate. I thought my motions and briefs were poetry. In reality, they mostly indulged my own ego or allowed an outlet for my emotions about a given case.

But I’m glad that I learned the lesson during my clerkship that superfluous language is generally ill-advised, as judges seem to be growing less and less patient with it. Several judges (including my former judge) have issued opinions harumphing about that kind of stuff, but I think Judge Dale Fischer of the U.S. District Court in the Southern District of California really hit the nail on the head in a recent hearing:

… I don’t know why lawyers do this, and there’s a lot of them in the room so take heed, all of you, language like failures are staggering, violations of this magnitude rarely occur, stunning display of incompetence, bitter irony, breathtaking dereliction of duty are not only unpersuasive, they’re somewhat annoying. I don’t have time for rhetoric. I’m really, really busy. Why anyone would want this job, I don’t know…

But in any event, it’s just – I don’t know whether you stay up nights trying to think of clever phrases, but trust me, no judge that I’ve ever spoken to has ever said, Boy, can that guy turn a phrase. They only say, Boy, why didn’t he get to the point. So, please, in future pleadings, remember that. …

… In addition to that, I’ve been around awhile both in practice and on the bench, so I suspect I’ve seen a few more cases than you, and really, it’s not all that staggering and it’s not all that great a magnitude, so when your experience and mine differ, it just takes all of the punch out of those comments.

To make matters even worse, Counsel, your statement that the government failed to make any effort to preserve the documents is simply false. And your statements in your papers so often go beyond the bounds of zealous advocacy that I have to say your papers had very little persuasive value. In fact, as I was trying to check some of the references you made to deposition testimony, I looked at it three or four times because I thought I must be searching for the wrong page because the pages you were citing to had oftentimes no relationship to the proposition you were citing them for. You started off extremely poorly as I started reading the papers, and I had little confidence in anything you had to say as I went through them.

Bam. Just a little reminder that even the best writers should save the rhetoric for blog comments sometimes.  Motions practice is not a place for a release of emotion, for intellectual masturbation, or for a demonstration of writing prowess. Legal writing is only a means to an end.

-Michael

Has Ed Whelan Ever Read a Supreme Court Opinion? (Update: Yes, He Has)

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Update: I received a response suggesting that I was the one who missed the mark. From Mr. Whelan himself (with his permission):

As I recall it, the practice when I was a law clerk is that the reporter of decisions drafted the syllabus, for review by the authoring justice. Moreover, a long syllabus doesn’t require the difficult editing decisions that a short paragraph would require.

Touché. (Note that this approach conflicts with the publicly advertised explanation, which says only that the syllabus was “prepared by the Reporter of Decisions.”)

It’s no surprise that ultra-conservative writer Ed Whelan doesn’t like ultra-liberal law professor Erwin Chemerinsky. But a recent post misses the mark. Whelan first attacks Chemerinsky for making a “crazy” suggestion that the Supreme Court should justify its cert. denials. Whelan might be kind of right given the volume of such denials each year (although he seems to overlook that a clerk produces a memo on most every case). Yet the real weak spot of Whelan’s analysis is his second attack:

Nearly as bad is Chemerinsky’s idea that “the Court should hire a ‘clear writer’ who would boil each decision down to a single paragraph that would be released along with the ruling.” I don’t doubt that the author of the majority opinion could often do a better job setting forth clearly what the holding of the case is. But why should the justices delegate to a Court staffer the often difficult and controversial task of summarizing the ruling?

The justices, of course, already do delegate to a Court staffer “the often difficult and controversial task of summarizing the ruling.” Mr. Whelan, meet the Reporter of Decisions of the Supreme Court. Among other things, the Reporter of Decisions is tasked with preparing a syllabus that goes at the top of most Supreme Court opinions. The syllabus has one purpose (you guessed it): to summarize the decision. See, e.g., United States v. Detroit Timber & Lumber Co., 200 U.S. 321, 337 (1906) (“[The syllabus] is simply the work of the reporter, [who] gives his understanding of the decision, and is prepared for the convenience of the profession in the examination of the reports.”).

The role of the Reporter of Decisions might sound like an odd bit of trivia, but it shouldn’t be to anyone who reads a Supreme Court opinion every once in a while. The syllabus is stuck right there at the top of the first page, along with an explanation of who prepared it.

So basically all Chemerinsky is asking for is a shorter, clearer syllabus. Not so crazy at all.

-Michael

Study Abroad: Why Accrediting Foreign Law Schools Might Save the U.S. Legal Market

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A recent article in Foreign Policy touts the benefits of an education abroad. It’s cheap! It’s less competitive! U.S. students can learn a language! The teaching environment is better! All these great benefits are available to any enterprising undergraduate who’s willing to move a bit farther from mom and dad than most. It sounds like a deal that’s too good to be true.

That deal isn’t available to law students. That’s because admission to most state bars require potential attorneys to graduate from a law school accredited by the American Bar Association. And the ABA doesn’t accredit foreign law schools. So that’s that. (Well, except for those Americans that go to another country for law school and simply stay in that country after graduation.)

But should that really be the end of the story? Putting aside all the fluffy nonsense about the “increasing globalization” of law, foreign law schools present a possible solution to two perceived problems in the legal market right now: (1) the lack of attorneys for under-served (read: poor) populations and (2) the high cost of law school in general. Of course, these problems are related: students carrying high debt loads out of law school simply can’t afford to move to Barrow and set up shop.

The ABA has considered and declined to accredit foreign law schools one time before. Reading between the lines, the earlier refusal seemed to have stemmed from a fear that foreign lawyers would flood the market.

Yet that concern seems inconsistent with the ABA’s willingness to accept American law schools of all shapes and sizes, with seemingly no concern for “flooding the market.” And interestingly, neither the commenters nor the ABA seemed to focus on American students going abroad to receive their degree. Instead, the jingoistic fear was that foreign students would go to foreign schools and then come to America. Why don’t we want to open a door for our own students to enjoy a legal education while immersed in a different culture?

What’s more, for American law students, a good number of foreign law schools should have the advantage over the newbie American ones, given that foreign law schools often have well-established pedigrees and strong institutional support. Contrast that with the lower-tier American institutions that struggle to get by. Wouldn’t we rather have new lawyers coming out of UCL Law or McGill Law than University of North Texas at Dallas School of Law? Can’t we all concede that there are several Australian schools that could instantly produce some of the best international lawyers in the States? As a bonus, accrediting foreign law schools might result in more lawyers for a very particular under-served community: immigrants.

Some worry that allowing foreign entry into the ABA could result in a general decline in the quality of legal education. Such a concern could be easily addressed by requiring the ABA  to impose the same strict standards for accreditation on foreign schools as it does on domestic ones. If no foreign school passed muster, so be it.

In sum, why aren’t we giving this a closer look? What is the ABA afraid of? A cheaper, more interesting learning experience shouldn’t be limited to the wandering undergrad. It’s time for law students to get their shot, too.

-Michael

Aside

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From Maryland comes an excessive force case (Coley v. Harris, No. DKC-11-1504 (D.Md. Jan. 19, 2012) with an unusual impetus:

“The uncontroverted portion of the record reveals that the use of force was prompted by Plaintiff’s refusal to follow direct orders to enter his cell because he was upset that he did not receive a sufficient number of sandwiches.”

The lesson here is simple: never deny a man his grilled cheese sandwich.

-Michael

Why Kiobel Might Matter In This Year’s Election

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Update (again): Guess I’m not crazy.  Check out this recent article in Supreme Court Insider titled, “Will alien tort case be next Citizens United?”

Update: Our friends over at the Alien Tort Claims Act Blog don’t agree that Kiobel could amount to anything in the next election, calling it something that might show up in ”hour three of Rush Limbaugh’s show” at best. That’s probably fair; this post was meant to be somewhat tongue-in-cheek and I didn’t mean to overstate the case’s significance. Still, it’s possible you might see some discussion of this for a few days in June when the opinion comes out. It won’t drive the election (by any means) but it might provide an interesting talking point for one news cycle.

Right now, the only people excited about the upcoming Supreme Court argument (and ultimate decision) in Kiobel v. Royal Dutch Petroleum are international law nerds. At first glance, the case presents issues only a mother scholar could love:

(1) Whether the issue of corporate civil tort liability under the Alien Tort Statute, 28 U.S.C. § 1350, is a merits question or instead an issue of subject matter jurisdiction; and (2) whether corporations are immune from tort liability for violations of the law of nations such as torture, extrajudicial executions or genocide may instead be sued in the same manner as any other private party defendant under the ATS for such egregious violations.

But even though that sounds extraordinarily technical, the facts of the case actually might provide fodder for some explosive campaign rhetoric.

At bottom, Kiobel could be thought to confront two fundamental issues: (1) the rights of aliens to enjoy certain protections in U.S. courts; and (2) the accountability of corporations for acts that caused injury. Those issues touch upon some raw feelings, driven by xenophobia, anti-corporatism, and general distrust of the Supreme Court. Either way the case goes, it’s likely to stir intense political feelings:

  • If the court rules that corporations may not be held liable under the Alien Tort Statute, we’re likely to see a mini-replay of the Citizens United furor. The decision would fit neatly into the narrative that the Roberts court cares more about the interests of corporations than individuals. I can already imagine President Obama giving a speech about the Court’s unwillingness to place limits on the acts of corporations, whether those limits come in the form of campaign spending law, basic human rights laws, or otherwise.
  • If the court rules that corporations may be held liable under the Alien Tort Statute, then Republicans could use this case as another example of how “those people” (i.e., aliens, foreigners, what have you) have too many rights in this country. Launching into his best “they-terk-er-jerbs” speech, the Republican candidate could use Kiobel to condemn how the government has become more interested in protecting the interests of foreign citizens, rather than protecting the interests of small business owners, family farmers, apple pie bakers, etc. Then again, Arizona v. United States might provide a better platform for anti-immigrant rants than Kiobel.
  • If the court simply punts and says that the Alien Tort Statute does not apply extraterritorially, I don’t think anybody will care. Some people will scream about judicial activism, others will applaud the court’s judicial restraint. For its part, the Alien Tort Statute will be dead, squashed like a roach under the jackboot of judicial fuddyduddyness.

Personally, I think it’d be kind of nice to see candidates sparring on things of substance (like Kiobel) rather than spitting the same ‘ole sound bites. But that’s probably too much to ask for.

-Michael

Getting it Wrong: A Lesson from a Law Professor’s Blog

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Update: A few minutes after I wrote this post, the blog post I discuss below was edited to better reflect Scalia’s opinion in Maples v. Thomas. In particular, the post now correctly reflects that Scalia would’ve rejected relief “because he believed the Maples was still technically represented in the case,” while adding a new argument that “[t]he record demonstrates that a gap occurred in representation.” Glad we cleared that up.

Blogging is supposed to be fun. In a perfect world, here’s what would happen: you post something interesting and insightful up for the world to see, everyone compliments you on your incredible intelligence, and you can be happy that you added something useful to the world. In the real world, here’s what often happens instead: you post something empty (or perhaps something insightful that turns out to be wrong), anonymous internet trolls leave angry comments eviscerating your work, and you leave wishing you had spent all that time you invested with a stiff drink rather than wasting it on your crappy blog post.

These problems can only get worse when people write about things falling outside their traditional areas of expertise. Susan and I, for instance, write about anything that catches our attention for a moment, which may be something we each know very little about. Even the title of our blog acknowledges the broad sweep of what we talk about here. As a result, we sometimes stumble off track and screw things up.

Recognizing I’m not an expert on many subject matters I write about here, I always try to do two things: (a) acknowledge when I’m wrong, if someone tells me; and (b) never write a post in a heavy-handed, “why doesn’t this person already know this” kind of way.  (I’ll admit there have been exceptions to this rule.)

The importance of a bit of humility in blogging is nicely illustrated by a recent blog post from law professor qua pop culture legal icon Jonathan Turley. The post excoriates Justices Thomas and Scalia for their recent dissenting opinion in a habeas case, Maples v. Thomas.  As it turns out, Professor Turley’s bluster seems to be based on a fundamental misunderstanding of the decision.

[A digression to explain the case. The Maples case presents a procedural issue only a criminal nut could love: what constitutes "cause" sufficient to excuse procedural default? SCOTUSBlog's Plain English column explains it well:

When he first challenged the constitutionality of his death sentence at the state level, Maples thought (as he later told courts) that he had “won the lottery” because he was represented by two lawyers from a prestigious New York law firm.  Unfortunately for Maples, after his New York lawyers filed his brief in the state trial court but before the court issued a decision ruling against him, both of those lawyers left the firm for other jobs, without notifying the court.  So when the court mailed the decision to the lawyers, the mailroom at the New York firm simply returned the unopened envelopes to the court (marked “Returned to Sender”).  As a result, Maples missed his chance to appeal the court’s ruling, which in turn led federal courts to reject his constitutional claims on the ground that they were procedurally defaulted – that is, that he had not given state courts a chance to consider them.

Ok, now back to the law professor's post.]

The Court determined that Maples’ lawyers had abandoned him, providing cause for his procedural default. Scalia and Thomas dissented. This, Turley says, is deplorable:

Scalia dismisses the confusion and lack of involvement of the attorneys who tried to retrieve Maples’ procedural rights. However, once again, procedural requirements must be tempered by some notion of basic justice and fairness. The jurisprudence of these justices appear to be impenetrable by such values. It is the triumph of procedure over justice.

Trouble is, Scalia never once concluded that abandonment is insufficient to establish cause to overcome procedural default. In fact, Scalia expressly agreed “that a habeas petitioner’s procedural default may be excused when it is attributable to abandonment by his attorney.” Scalia dissented because of a factual disagreement with the majority’s conclusion that Maples had been left without counsel. In Scalia’s view, Maples was still represented by the firm of Sullivan and Cromwell as a whole and by a few other individual attorneys who had also represented him. Thus, there was no “abandonment,” but only attorney error. Basic attorney error is something long-recognized as insufficient to establish cause. Scalia’s opinion closes by noting that Maples’ case could therefore provide sufficient cause only if the Court undid its own case law and made all attorney error sufficient to establish cause.  (It is this final explanation that Professor Turley seems to take out of context.)

Scalia’s fine factual distinction may be weak to many, but the point is that he does not reject abandonment as a grounds for relief. He does not insist that procedure triumphs over justice in every case. Professor Turley seems to have overlooked this subtle but important distinction.

I flag all this as a cautionary tale. Blogging is often sold as a no-lose situation, especially for practitioners looking to draw in clients by flashing their intelligence. But blogging is a difficult and dangerous undertaking. Even the best sometimes misread cases or misunderstand doctrine. And when that happens in a blog post, there’s nowhere to hide. The wolves come out out of the shadows to pounce. There is blood. Things get messy. Keep that in mind when you sit down at your keyboard with plans to show the world how smart you are.

…Now go ahead and tell me all the ways I’m wrong.

-Michael