Stephen Laniel’s Unspecified Bunker

I started out wanting to hate this book, but as it turns out I think that most people with an engineering cast of mind will love it: like a good engineer, Posner wants to take apart problems, see what makes them tick, and find solutions. Barring that, he’s content to clear away intellectual dross; if he has to be rather short about it, too bad. He’ll tear your arguments apart, but at least he’s eloquent about it.

Not all arrogant men deserve to be; in fact most don’t. Fortunately for Posner, he’s a Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals judge, founder of a major legal school of thought (namely “law and economics”), reframer of much of American antitrust law, and remarkably prolific besides: by a quick count, Posner is the author of two score books over the past few decades. This is the man whom Yale law professor Jack Balkin advocated for the Supreme Court (while acknowledging that “It’ll never happen”) before Bush nominated John Roberts.

Posner does, however, have a habit of being rather unfair. I continually go back to his description of behavioral economics, a subject which by now I know rather well:

Behavioral economics is defined by its subject rather than by its method and its subject is merely the set of phenomena that rational-choice models (or at least the simplest of them) do not explain. It would not be surprising if many of these phenomena turned out to be unrelated to each other, just as the set of things that are not edible by man include stones, toadstools, thunderclaps, and the Pythagorean theorem.

The man is cold. Fortunately for the reader, it is this icy wit that makes reading Posner’s books such a joy. Watch how he rips into inconsistencies:

In discussing a case that invalidated the exclusion of homosexuals from the military, Beatty approvingly remarks that the court “noted the lack of ‘concrete’ and ‘actual or significant’ evidence that allowing gay men to enlist in the armed forces would prejudice its morale, fighting power, or operational effectiveness in any way.” He does not require that there be “concrete” and “actual or significant” evidence that homosexuals are harmed by the exclusion. Nor is he bothered by a lack of concreteness when he says that “laws that establish a broadcasting spectrum [must] guarantee that the full spectrum of opinion in the community will be heard.” What is “the full spectrum” of opinion, and who is to decide? Must every lunatic have access to a broadcast studio? Beatty contends that government has a constitutional duty to subsidize religious schools but “may make funding conditional on religious schools agreeing to teach the same curriculum that is used in state-run schools.” If the curriculum is identical, in what sense are they religious schools?

(internal footnotes omitted)

The point, here as elsewhere in How Judges Think, is to drive a spear into the side of judicial and scholarly hypocrisy. The particular target here, Beatty, is no more or less hypocritical than the rest of us: judges and legal scholars, as much as anyone, pretend that their opinions are more than just opinions. Judges — especially Supreme Court Justices — have a fancy term for this, which we as Americans have come to sanctify as The One True Way Of Judging. The fancy term is ‘textualism’ or ‘originalism’ or (as Posner calls it) ‘legalism.’ Legalism is meant to keep the judges out of judging: they’re supposed to read the facts of the case, read the relevant precedents, read the text of any relevant statutes, maybe read the legislative history, then decide the case syllogistically. A judge becomes an automaton lacking independent will. This is supposed to keep politics out of the court, and keep us closer to the ideal of “a nation of laws, not men.” The law, after all, shouldn’t depend on who’s enforcing it. This isn’t the way actual judges or actual courts work, says Posner; he spends the next 350 pages crisply and efficiently taking down any number of legalist conceptions of judging. He replaces them with his own description of how judging actually works.

Judges also don’t spend much time at all deliberating — at least not in groups. A judge may be internally conflicted over a case, and at times he may actually change his mind on the basis of what others say. But not normally. Normally — like poor Mr. Beatty, above — he’s either deliberately or subconsciously deploying judicial reasoning, or the appearance of judicial reasoning, in the service of what he already believes to be true. The ultimate source of judicial opinion is emotion: the race you were born into, the economic class you inhabit, whether you worked as a prosecutor or a defense attorney before you reached the Court.

If judges find sophisticated-sounding justifications for conclusions that they reached at the start, what’s to stop them from running totally off the rails? Why can’t a judge say whatever he wants? Here Posner walks through the range of ‘judges’ — from paid arbitrators through Federal appellate-court judges, all the way to the Supreme Court. An arbitrator has certain economic motivations: if he’s known as thorough and unbiased, he’ll get more business; if he tends to land on compromises that make both sides happy, he’ll get still more. District court judges are subject to review by the appellate courts. Federal appellate judges have life tenure, insulating them from public opinion — but they’re subject to review by the Supreme Court. Supreme Court Justices themselves have a cushy job with limited caseloads and no possibility of review. So where do Supreme Court justices get their constraints? The public: if the Court veers too far into cloud cuckoo land, it can expect that the people will revolt and clamor for overriding legislation. The Supreme Court still has constraints.

Judges are “constrained pragmatists,” in Posner’s terminology. They must choose among conflicting interpretations of the common-law and statute history; a pragmatist chooses by considering the consequences of each interpretation in the light of the law’s intent, if not its wording. A pragmatic judge doesn’t get overly bogged down in the words of the law, when those words are an imperfect guide to what the law was supposed to achieve. This sounds similar to objectives-based regulation: specify the outcome and the intent, and focus less on the implementation. The realization behind this is that society changes quickly, and laws that fixate on the present moment’s circumstances will quickly become obsolete.

This was the weakest part of Posner’s argument: legislation, says Posner, moves more slowly than the courts do, so it’s natural to place some of the burden of its interpretation on the courts. The process of amending the Constitution is tortuous, but Posner never makes it clear why this is a bad thing, or whether legislators actually desire to make the judicial branch a second branch of execution. We already have a president who overrules legislation via signing statements; do we really need another branch that overrules via loose construction?

Posner’s argument isn’t absurd. Even pragmatist judges operate under constraints, after all: if they strike down perfectly constitutional legislation, remedies up to impeachment are theoretically available. And the public has been trained to be on the lookout for ‘activist judges’. But to base a large part of the argument for pragmatism on a bare assertion that “it works out better that way for everyone” is odd.

His analyses of how a pragmatist would resolve any number of cases are fascinating. Take the Kelo case, for instance, which allowed the city of New London, Connecticut to seize land by eminent domain for private development. A pragmatist assesses a claim of eminent domain by looking at the original intent of the law, and the economic consequences of granting or withholding the seizure right. The original intent, says Posner, was to prevent individual people from holding a big public-works project hostage: if I’m building a several-thousand-mile-long road, everyone in its path knows that their cooperation is vital. They have, in other words, something like monopoly power, and they can demand exorbitant sale prices for their land. If there’s no danger of “holdouts,” as these are called, there’s no reason to grant the state eminent domain. Moreover, a pragmatist would examine the consequences of granting eminent domain in these cases, would realize that the market is better able to assign just compensation to land sales than the state itself is, and would in effect hand the case over to the market for resolution.

A pragmatist judge, it seems to me, is expected to exercise remarkable foresight. Not only must he know enough about the common and statute law to genuflect appropriately at the law’s majesty, but now he must also be able to guess the long-term consequences of a particular taking. This means he must be rather thoroughly educated in economics and statistics. Posner might reply here that it’s six of one, half-dozen of another: a non-pragmatist judge only has to convert his gut feelings into the language of precedent, but the outcome of this simpler process is decidedly worse than what a pragmatist — with his wider scope — comes up with. If I have Posner right, there’s little evidence for this claim in How Judges Think. Indeed, Posner repeatedly critiques judges for a lack of interest or skill in the exact sciences. So what’s to make us think that an unschooled pragmatist judge would come up with better decisions overall? Maybe “unschooled pragmatist” is a contradiction in terms?

This reliance on economics, statistics, and science makes it all the more jarring when Posner throws down bare assertions — as, for instance, when he asserts (p. 306) that the “total misery of the wrongly convicted was not lessened” when the Court increased the rights of criminal defendants in the ’60’s. Total misery decreases if the average wrongly convicted defendant spends less time in jail, or if fewer people are wrongly convicted to begin with. Posner asserts (with evidence) that defendants spent more time in jail after the ’60’s, in part because of a legislative backlash against the courts. (It could also be because violent crime increased. Posner himself doesn’t engage in much convincing heavy-duty statistical analysis, though he cites plenty.) For his claim to hold, he has to show that the probability of wrongful conviction didn’t fall enough to compensate for increased jail time. This he does not do. In general, the pretensions of “a sect of academics who want to use their facility with the differential calculus to impose … hegemonic domination over social science” invite skepticism during their falls from the empiricist wagon.

One final note from Posner that I found especially interesting: academics, he says, have grown increasingly distant from the actual practice of judging. One consequence is that law students learn the very artificial academic view of how judicial decisions are made. Law students, in a word, are trained to be legalists. They come to expect that judges are the automata they read about in class. Students learn that if they want to convince judges of anything, all they need to do is read a long litany of precedent; the judge will be forced, through logic alone, to accept their conclusions. They import this conceit into the courtroom and get nowhere with it. If legal academia were more in line with how judging actually worked, law students would learn to address judges pragmatically. As it is, even a decorated legal scholar like Larry Lessig — a man who clerked for Scalia and Posner, in fact — didn’t understand quite how to talk to Supremes:

“Here was a case [ Eldred v. Ashcroft ] that pitted all the money in the world against reasoning. And here was the last naïve law professor, scouring the pages, looking for reasoning.”