Category: History of Law


The Bard of the Financial Crisis

shakespeare.jpgOver the weekend, I re-read A Merchant of Venice, and I was struck by the fact that Shakespeare manages to include in the play virtually every element of the current financial crisis. Scene one begins with a discussion of risk assessment, and Antonio’s belief that he has managed to tame the vagaries of commercial fate through diversification. Asked by Salarino if he “Is sad to think upon his merchandise” (I.i.40), Antonio responds:

Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,

Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate

Upon the fortune of this present year.

Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. (I.i.41-45)

Having ignored the problem of fat tails and black swans, Antonio decides to engage in a bit of dodgy finance. He borrows in the wholesale market from Shylock under terms that appear favorable, but have a huge downside in the unlikely event of his default. Antonio, of course, is unconcerned. From his point of view he is getting cheap money by taking on what seems like an extremely remote risk. He then takes these borrowed funds and uses them to make what can only be described as a no doc, subprime loan. Bassiano wants money for a speculative venture — the wooing “In Belmont [of] a lady richly left” (I.i.161) — and Antonio agrees, in effect renting out his credit rating:

Try what my credit in Venice can do;

That shall be racked even to the uttermost

To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia.

Go presently inquire, and so will I,

Where money is; and I no question make

To have it of my trust or for my sake. (I.i.180-185)

Shylock, for his part, does not approve of the loose monetary policy in Venice, which he rightly blames on wild lending practices, such as Antonio’s loans:

How like a fawning publican he looks.

I hate him for he is a Christian;

But more, for what is low simplicity,

He lends out money gratis and brings down

The rate of usance here with us in Venice. (I.iii.38-42)

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The Worst Contract Ever

zong.gifI just finished Simon Schama’s Rough Crossings: Britain, Slaves, and the American Revolution. I leave an assessment of its ultimate merits to the historical experts on slavery in the late 18th-century Atlantic world, but I thoroughly enjoyed the book. By taking characters that usually sit at the margins of narratives about the American Revolution — slaves who escaped to British lines — and placing them at the center of the story, a story that ultimately sits in Britain looking west rather than American looking east, it made an old story new. Also, despite his efforts at even handedness, one can’t help but pick up on the fun that Schama is having poking at American hypocrisy and lauding “British Freedom” (the name that one of the escaped American slaves actually took). To be sure, Schama is at pains to point out the frequent expediency and hypocrisy of British policy toward African-Americans. This is not a bit of Rule Britannia flag waving. Still, reading about Glanville Sharpe and other English abolitionists, or the final English general in America — Guy Carleton — a blustering non-entity who nevertheless refused to abandon escaped slaves to their masters, despite pressure from Washington and more-or-less explicit language in the Peace of Paris gave my inner Anglo-phile a thrill. As a contract geek, however, the most fascinating part of the book was the story of The Zong, an episode that surely must stand as the most hideous example of perverse incentives in the history of contract drafting.

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William Cuddihy’s The Fourth Amendment: Origins and Original Meaning 602-1791

cuddihy1.jpgI’m delighted to announce the publication of William J. Cuddihy’s The Fourth Amendment: Origins and Original Meaning 602 – 1791 (Oxford University Press, January 2009). The book has just come out in print, hot off the press, and it’s an absolutely essential volume for any scholar of constitutional history, criminal procedure, or the Fourth Amendment.

Cuddihy’s book is the most comprehensive history of the Fourth Amendment I’ve ever read. It spans over 1000 years of history, tracing the origins of the concepts underpinning the Fourth Amendment from the Middle Ages to the Founding. It clocks in at 940 pages, but much of the heft comes from the extensive footnoting and detailed appendices. The book it is highly readable and contains a wealth of information and insight into the intellectual history of the Fourth Amendment and its original meaning. It comes with a high price tag, but I can assure you that it’s worth every penny.

I first encountered the book as an unpublished manuscript (which was completed over 15 years ago) when I was doing research into the history of the Fourth Amendment. I kept seeing it cited in articles and judicial opinions (it was cited by the U.S. Supreme Court a few times) and so I tracked it down. I couldn’t believe that this detailed, exhaustive, and immensely valuable research had never been published. William Cuddihy wrote it while a doctoral student under the late eminent legal historian Leonard Levy. I contacted Cuddihy and helped him find a publisher. And so I’m delighted that the manuscript is now in print, revised, updated, and with an afterward that responds to scholarship by Akhil Amar and Thomas Davies. I wrote a short preface for the book, in which I conclude:

No other work on the Fourth Amendment has synthesized so many sources, let alone done so as deftly and clearly as Professor Cuddihy’s The Fourth Amendment: Origins and Original Meaning 602-1791. I am very honored to introduce it.

Get your copy today. Tell your librarian to get a copy for your school’s library. It’s truly an impressive book, and is indispensable for anyone who wants to understand the origins of the Fourth Amendment.


Soothsayer Law

cystalball.jpgAccording to the WashPo, St. Johnsbury, Vermont has decided to make the plunge and legalize soothsaying. It turns out that a number of jurisdictions still have anti-fortunetelling statutes on the books. Contemporary Pennsylvania law, for example states:

A person is guilty of a misdemeanor of the third degree if he pretends for gain or lucre, to tell fortunes or predict future events, by cards, tokens, the inspection of the head or hands of any person, or by the age of anyone, or by consulting the movements of the heavenly bodies, or in any other manner, or for gain or lucre, pretends to effect any purpose by spells, charms, necromancy, or incantation, or advises the taking or administering of what are commonly called love powders or potions, or prepares the same to be taken or administered, or publishes by card, circular, sign, newspaper or other means that he can predict future events, or for gain or lucre, pretends to enable anyone to get or to recover stolen property, or to tell where lost property is, or to stop bad luck, or to give good luck, or to put bad luck on a person or animal, or to stop or injure the business or health of a person or shorten his life, or to give success in business, enterprise, speculation, and games of chance, or to win the affection of a person, or to make one person marry another, or to induce a person to make or alter a will, or to tell where money or other property is hidden, or to tell where to dig for treasure, or to make a person to dispose of property in favor of another. (18 Pa.C.S.A. § 7104 )

The law apparently dates back to an 1861 state statute. A quick Westlaw search reveals reported cases dealing with anti-fortunetelling statues in California, Illinois, Maryland, New York, Washington, and other states.

Witchcraft and cursing, of course, were crimes at common law on the straight-forward theory that they were a method of harming others that ought to be suppressed. One may dispute the metaphysics behind this crime, but as a normative matter it seems simple enough. One might even object to love potions as a kind of officious intermeddling. The suppression of fortunetelling — along with other forms of beneficent magic like peering in stones to find lost treasure — however, rests on a more subtle calculation, some of it less than pretty.

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Eric Muller on the Lies of Hirabayashi

Professor Eric Muller (U. North Carolina School of Law) has posted a new paper, Hirabyashi: The Biggest Lie of the Greatest Generation on SSRN. From the abstract:

This Article presents newly discovered archival evidence demonstrating that government lawyers told a crucial lie to the United States Supreme Court in the case of Hirabayashi v. United States, 320 U.S. 81 (1943), which upheld the constitutionality of a racial curfew imposed on Japanese Americans in World War II. While the government’s submissions in Hirabayashi maintained that the curfew was a constitutional response to the serious threat of a Japanese invasion of the West Coast, new archival findings make clear that military officials foresaw no Japanese invasion and were planning for no such thing at the time they ordered mass action against Japanese Americans. Even more disturbingly, the archival record demonstrates that at the time that Justice Department lawyers filed their brief in Hirabayashi emphasizing a threatened invasion, they knew this emphasis was false.

The Article seeks to understand what might have led otherwise ethical Justice Department lawyers to present such a big and consequential lie, suggesting that the then-prevalent racial schema of the “Oriental” as an invading horde may have overpowered the lawyers’ evaluation of the facts. And perhaps more importantly, the Article demonstrates that the Hirabayashi decision – which has never been repudiated in the way that the more famous Korematsu decision has been, and which remains a potent precedent for race-conscious national security measures – deserves to be installed in the Supreme Court’s Hall of Shame, alongside Korematsu, Dred Scott, and the Court’s other biggest mistakes.

According to Eric’s blog post about his article: “My article documents all of this from primary archival sources, and then goes on to speculate about what might have led Justice Department lawyers to such a large and consequential deception.”


The History of Contract Law and Bibliographic Angst

indenture.jpgMy research assistant recently asked me if I could suggest a good book to read on the history of contract law. I had him for contracts last spring, I talk a fair amount about history in my class, and he’s interested (or at least is pretending to be to make me feel better). I found myself a bit tongue tied. Were he English, the answer to the question would be easy enough. Read P.S. Atiyah, The Rise and Fall of Freedom of Contract, A.W.B. Simpson, A History of the Common Law of Contract, or David Ibbetson, A Historical Introduction to the Law of Obligations. Indeed, given that the history of American contract law is in part at least the history of English contract law, I mentioned all of these books but then dismissed them. They aren’t really what he was looking for. He wants something a bit more recent and American with a bit less emphasis on the medieval writs and the seventeenth century revolution in assumpsit. So what to suggest?

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Cardozo and Posner on Contracts and Torts

Several recent inquiries (for example, here and here) investigate aspects of judicial decision making, including empirical studies of influence, reputation and productivity.

Posner picture.jpgA decade ago, I wrote an article inquiring into the comparative contributions to Contract law of Judges Cardozo and Posner. This was inspired by the former’s dominance of Contracts casebooks and the latter’s ascendency. Ranking judges by the frequency with which their opinions were reproduced in Contracts casebooks, Cardozo was firmly number one, followed by Traynor, with Posner a close third, beating out Hand, Holmes, Swan, Peters and other luminaries.

This affirmed Judge Posner’s enormous influence. It also suggested a small bit of formal evidence of a shift from legal analysis characterized by thickly textured doctrinalism to one consciously focused on instrumental and pragmatic method (although Cardozo showed hints of a proto-pragmatist). Notably, Cardozo’s and Posner’s reproduction frequency shared a couple of similarities. Each had an aggregate of 13 opinions reproduced in the casebooks and 6 of each of these had appeared in just 1 casebook apiece. On the other hand, Cardozo had 2 opinions that were clearly canonical, being reproduced in nearly every casebook, while Posner’s most frequently reproduced opinion appeared in only 2/3 of the books.

This summer, I’m beginning a like inquiry on comparative judicial contributions to Torts. Some similarities and some differences from the Contracts study appear in the preliminary data (being ably developed by my research assistants, Matt Albanese, Dana Parsons and Paul Stepnowsky).

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“For Every Three Judges, Two Are in the Fire”: Richard Posner and the Usul al-Fiqh

I’ve been reading Richard Posner of late, and it strikes me that there is an odd analogy between the his vision of the pragmatic judge and the position of the judge under the classical usul al-fiqh of Islamic law. It seems to me that ultimately Judge Posner’s theory of adjudication rests on a radical rejection of the ex post perspective. On his view all judicial decisions are — and ought to be — forward looking, focusing solely on the consequences for the future that will come from deciding one way rather than another. Of course, a concern for future consequences needn’t preclude a certain respect for past practices, expectations, and rule of law values, but none of this stuff has any force in and of itself. It only matters in so far as it impacts the future. One of the implications of this theory is that the judge can never hide behind the “the law” as a way of distancing him or herself from moral responsibility for her decisions. The law does not dictate particular results in any case. Rather, it is always a matter of the judge making an individual — albeit practically constrained — judgement about what would — all things considered — be best. One doesn’t get any sense that Judge Posner spends much time thinking about the personal moral status of the judge, but it seems to me his theory makes the judge into a radically responsible moral agent. If the consequences of one of Judge Posner’s decisions is really bad, it really is Judge Posner’s fault.

Ulema.pngWhere Judge Posner’s theory of law is radically ex ante, the theory of law (usul al-fiqh) proposed by the classical Islamic jurists purported at any rate to be radically ex post. In theory, all human legislation is a denial of the sovereignty of God, a kind of blasphemy. Rather, a righteous society follows God’s law. This law, however, is finished and complete, indeed according to the dominant theological approach in Islam it is uncreated, a co-eternal emanation of the divine mind. The task of a jurist is to discover the divine law as revealed in the Qur’an and the example of the Prophet Muhammed. Put in more concrete terms, the classical Islamic jurists claimed that every rule necessary for the proper government of society could be discovered — not deduced from or promulgated in accordance with — with the sacred texts of Islam. At this point in their theory, however, the jurists came up against the ultimately unsystematic and ad hoc nature of the Islamic revelation. The Qur’an is not a legal code. Rather it is a collection of “recitations” — often in the form of religious poetry — given by God to the Prophet, often in response to concrete questions or problems raised by the early Islamic community. It was only in the generation after his death that these “recitations” were collected into the Qur’an. Not surprisingly, it takes some nimble exegetical gymnastics to transform this religious ur-stuff into a functioning body of substantive law. What haunted the classical jurists was that they might be wrong in their exegesis. As Marshall Hodgson has written, for a Muslim “every person, as such with no exceptions, was summoned in his own person to obey the commands of God: there could be no intermediary, no group responsibility, no evasion of any sort from direct confrontation with the divine will.” Hence, there was no sense in which a jurist could hide behind some abstraction like office or “the law” to shield himself from full responsibility for his judicial decisions. He was to apply the law of God, and if he got it wrong he was responsible for that mistake.

According to one Muslim legal aphorism, “For every three judges, two are in the fire.” The fire in question here is the hell reserved by God for judges who do not apply His law. Indeed, there are stories of great classical legal scholars who fled from Baghdad at the prospect of being made an actual judge by the Caliph. The reason was that once one moved from exegetical speculation to deciding actual cases, one’s eternal soul was on the line. I don’t think that Judge Posner is much worried about hell fire, but ironically his radically ex ante approach leaves him in a similar moral position personally to the radically ex post approach of the ulema.


Obstructionism, Roman-Style

Cato the Younger made his name by tirelessly advertising his high personal morals. His public career as a senator and tribune of the Roman republic was distinguished by a use of obstructionist tactics whose mixture of pig-headed stubbornness and improvisation may sound humorously familiar to modern Congress-watchers. Here are some highlights, based on Adrian Goldsworthy’s fantastic biography of Julius Caesar, Cato’s principal political enemy.

Cato was a filibusterer par excellence. The rules of debate in the Roman senate forbade cutting off a speaker. When asked his opinion on an issue he opposed, Cato gave it, and gave it, and gave it, talking all day, without notes, until the Senate would adjourn with the issue unresolved. Most notably, in 59 BC, Cato so infuriated Caesar by trying to run out the clock on a land-reform bill that Caesar simply ordered him jailed. It was a (short-lived) political triumph for Cato: one senator walked out, saying he’d rather join Cato in prison than remain with Caesar, and Cato was rapidly released.

In 62 BC, while serving as tribune, Cato used his veto powers to block another bill being proposed by Quintus Metellus Nepos with Caesar’s support. As Goldsworthy describes it:

Nepos ordered a clerk to read the bill aloud. Cato used his veto to forbid this, and when Nepos himself took up the document and started to read, he snatched it from his hands. Knowing the text by heart, [Nepos] then began to recite it, until [Cato’s ally] Thermius slapped his hand over his mouth to stop him.

A riot ensued, again embarrassing Cato’s political enemies. But not everything he did to embarrass Caesar worked out so well. During a critical debate over how to punish the Catiline conspirators, a note was brought in and handed to Caesar. Cato, who was speaking, proclaimed that it must be a secret communication from those conspirators still at large. When Cato demanded that the note be read aloud, Caesar instead passed it to Cato. It turned out to be a love letter from Cato’s half-sister.

You can keep your blood-drenched fictionalizations; good legislative floor fights are timeless.


Where’s Lexington and Concord in D.C. v. Heller?

Minute_Man_tn.JPGMike O’Shea has thoughts on tomorrow’s argument in D.C. v. Heller below; here are my own. Despite my recent posts on original understanding, I recognize that it’s often the most important interpretive method actually used by courts in constitutional cases; and even non-originalists like me might fall back on the original understanding for a clause like the Second Amendment where there’s nothing else to go on.

So I’m therefore a little puzzled by the way the D.C. v. Heller briefs downplay what the Framers would have regarded as the paradigmatic case of the confiscation of arms by the government: the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the events that started the Revolutionary War. It’s a bit as if briefs on a 1950s statute protecting ports from surprise attacks made only a passing mention of Pearl Harbor.

Briefly, by 1775 the conflict between Britain and Massachusetts was coming to a head. Parliament passed increasingly restrictive acts, and transferred British troops from Nova Scotia to Boston to enforce them, but they had little impact outside of the confines of Boston itself. In 1775, the Massachusetts legislature was meeting in Concord, and had built up a store of arms there to arm colonial militia. General Gage in Boston, under orders from London to do something, sent an expedition to Concord to round up the leaders of the legislature — people such as Samuel Adams and John Hancock — and confiscate or destroy the hidden caches of arms. Starting at Lexington, local militias assembled to block the troops’ progress, shots were fired, and the war began. In Concord, the British regulars searching the town did in fact destroy cannon and supplies and threw shot into the river.

Surely this story of national government troops being sent to confiscate arms held by people now recognized as heroes would have been prominent in the minds of those proposing that “A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.” (Indeed, the whole tale of 1770s Massachusetts probably inspired the Third and Fourth Amendments as well.)

The Heller brief focuses the most on this story, detailing the history of pre-war Massachusetts, and noting that the Revolution began with the raid on Lexington and Concord. But what I’ve described as the “paradigmatic case” of arms confiscation is a little muted. Lexington and Concord in the Heller brief stand, not as the evil that is itself to be prevented by the Second Amendment, but as the occasion for various Framers to indicate their displeasure at the gun confiscation that resulted afterwards in Boston under General Gage:

Americans reacted strongly to the disarmament of Boston. Thomas Jefferson and John Dickinson drafted a “Declaration of the Causes and Necessity of Taking Up Arms,” issued by the Second Continental Congress on July 6, 1775. Gage’s disarmament scheme figured prominently among the “Causes” for armed revolt [listed in the Declaration].

It seems an odd way to characterize the importance of “the shot heard round the world.”

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