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

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

The Interesting Sub-Issue in Samantar v. Yousuf

The Supreme Court issued its decision in Samantar v. Yousuf yesterday, in a 9-0 decision that I think got it right.  The Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act, says the Court, was not intended to codify common-law “official immunity”* or capture the act-of-state doctrine.  Rather, the FSIA’s text is clear that it applies to states and the entities that compose them.

Even though the Court was unanimous on its interpretation of the statute, it was not unanimous on the path taken to get there.  Thomas and Alito wrote terse one to two line concurring opinions decrying the use of legislative history in the principal opinion.  Scalia went a step further, refusing to concur in anything more than the judgment, all because the principal opinion was soiled with a drop of legislative history.

I kind of agree with Scalia on his point that references to legislative history are unnecessary when the text is clear.  And, given that even the principal opinion finds the text is clear, it seemed a bit superfluous to drop some legislative history into a footnote in an effort to further buttress the case.   Smarter people have written about the dangers of using legislative history in general, and I largely agree with them.

Still, I feel like this is one of those situations that demonstrates why people hate lawyers.  Did we really need 6 pages to go in the U.S. Reports for all of eternity because a few of the judges disagree with a footnote?  Probably not.  The slippery slope to widespread use of legislative history is unlikely to start in a supplemental footnote of an opinion construing a somewhat arcane statute.  The Supreme Court might have more time to decide substantive issues (in more cases) if it didn’t spend so much f@#%ing time wrestling over process issues like this one.

-Michael

*It was odd to me that they kept referring to “official immunity.”  I’ve always understood the doctrine as “head of state immunity,” which would suggest a much more limited application.  Maybe a future Supreme Court case?

Update: Michael Dorf discusses the squabbling.

CNN Misinterprets Scalia’s Approach to Interpreting Treaties

An article in CNN today seems to suggest that Scalia has an inconsistent view of the relevance of an international consensus.  The article notes a recent comment by Scalia on how to interpret treaties:

The purpose of a treaty is to have everybody doing the same thing, and if it’s a case of some ambiguity [in U.S. courts], we should try to go along with what seems to be the consensus in other countries that are signatories to the treaty.

The article contrasts this comment with Scalia’s sharp hostility to using “international consensus” in other contexts (as in Atkins v. Virginia, the juvenile death penalty case):

The Prize for the Court’s Most Feeble Effort to fabricate ‘national consensus’ (against executing the mentally retarded),” wrote the justice, “must go to its appeal … to the views of the ‘world community,’ whose notions of justice are (thankfully) not always those of our people.

I’m flabbergasted that CNN doesn’t see the distinction here.  On the one hand, when the U.S. signs a treaty, it is essentially an agreement with the other signatories to behave in some consistent, predictable manner.  (“Hey, let’s all agree to stop dumping crap in the ocean.”)  On the other hand, the Constitution has nothing to do with international behavior and was drafted with the singular focus of doing it “our way.”  As has often been repeated, the views of the international community do not get us very far in interpreting a document that — in Scalia’s worldview — is guided by the ideas of a bunch of 18th century drunks statesmen.

-Michael

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