Legal Theory Lexicon

Legal Theory Lexicon 062: Path Dependency

Introduction  The phrase "path dependency" is used to express the idea that history matters--choices made in the past can affect the feasibility (possibility or cost) of choices made in the future.  This entry in the Legal Theory Lexicon introduces this idea to law students, especially first-year law students, with an interest in legal theory.

The General Idea of "Path Dependency"  The general idea of path dependency is that prior decisions constrain (or expand) the subsequent range of possible or feasible choices.  That is, a decision, d, made at t₁ may affect the choice set, S = (c₁, c₂, . . . c_n) at t₂.  We can define a choice set as a set of actions that a given agent could take.  Or to expand the path metaphor, if we imagine a network of paths through time, from past to future, decisions to branch at an earlier point on the chosen path may affect the destinations that one can reach from a later point on the path.  Sometimes, if we choose the left fork, we may be able to reach exactly the same destinations we could have reached via the right fork, but sometimes, our choices foreclose some possibilities altogether.  It isn’t always the case that in the long run, there’s still time to change the road you’re on.

The notion of path dependency is associated with the discipline of economics and also with political science.  In the context of economics, there is a tendency to associate "path dependency" with effects on the costs of various options.  But the phrase "path dependency" can be (and is) used in a more general sense--to encompass the ideas of feasibility and possibility.  The terminology doesn't matter for its own sake, but it is important to be clear about the meaning of the phrase when discussing path dependency.

Specifying Parth Dependency This general notion can be specified in various ways.

The Type of Effect First, we can specify the type of effect that d₁ has on the choice set.  One type of seffect is an effect on which actions are members of the choice set.  Thus, by making a decision d at t₁, the resulting choice set at t₂ would have members c₁, c₂, and c₃, but if the decision had been d′ (d prime), then the choice set at t₂ would have members c₁, c_3, and c₄.  In this illustrative case, making decision d rather than d′ both added and subtracted from the choice set at t₂.  Another type of effect is an effect on the costs associated with the actions that are members of the choice set.  That is, decision, d, might result in the price of a given choice P(c₁) being greater than that price would have been if an alternative decision, d′, had been made.  Notice, however, that if we include price in the specification (or description) that designates a choice, then the second type of effect (that is, cost effects) are reducible to the first type of effect (possibility effects).

What Causal Mechanisms?  A second way in which we can specify the general notion of path dependency is to describe the causal pathway by which decisions affect future choices.  On the one hand, one might use the phrase “path dependency” to refer to all causal mechanisms.  On the other hand, we could reserve the phrase for a specific type of causal mechanism.  For example, Paul Pierson has suggested that the notion of path dependency should be limited to what he calls “positive feedback.”  Positive feedback (or self-reinforcement) involves the idea that as time progresses, the relative benefit of maintaining some feature of the system (and hence the relatively costliness of modifying or eliminating that feature) increases.  Once a constitution has been adopted and gone into effect, it becomes more costly to adopt a different constitution.  Once a federal system has been created out of sovereign subunits, it becomes more costly to eliminate that the federal (or national) government.  Once a judicial precedent has been established and relied upon, the costs of reversal grow.

Remediable and Nonremediable Path Dependency  A third way in which we can specify the idea of path dependency is by differentiating between “remediable” and “nonremediable” path dependency.  Path dependency is remediable if there are some points on the path at which there is an alternative decision, d′, such that if the decision had been d′ rather than d, the outcome would have been better (relative to some goal or criteria for evaluation).  Path dependency is nonremediable if no alternative could have improved the outcome.  For the idea of nonremediable path dependency to be plausible, we must assume that we are talking about particular choices in relationship to particular consequences within some time frame.  Thus, the framers’ decision to create equal suffrage in the Senate might be nonremediable with respect to the goal of establishing majoritarian democracy if all of the alternatives (say, vetoes of national legislation by a single state governor) had been worse with respect to this goal.

Applications in Normative Legal Theory

Path dependency interacts with legal theory in a variety of ways.  One simple example--stare decisis--is described by Oona Hathaway:

Path dependence theory is relevant to the common law system for a simple reason: the doctrine of stare decisis. Under the doctrine of stare decisis et non quieta movere--"let the decision stand and do not disturb things which have been settled" [FN88]--decisions of higher courts are controlling in subsequent cases involving similar circumstances. [FN89] Courts also give their own prior decisions great weight, though they are not strictly bound to follow their own precedents. [FN90] Furthermore, even when decisions of other *623 courts are not explicitly binding, they can provide persuasive authority. [FN91] Judges who follow the doctrine thus generally apply decision rules that entail explicit reliance on earlier choices and thereby generate path dependence.

Another example is provided by a recent article by Lucian Arye Bebchuk and Mark J. Roe.  They argue that initial decisions made about the form of corporate organization create path dependencies--making changes in form more costly or infeasible.  And a final example is provided by Article V of the United States Constitution.  Article V makes amendment difficulty by subjecting amends to a supermajoritarian process of proposal and ratification.  Once the Constitution of 1789 had been adopted and gained legitimacy, "path dependency" made substantial changes without supermajority support infeasible.

Conclusion  The idea of path dependency is now a familiar one to many legal theorists, but its use in academic legal discourse is frequently vague or ambiguous.  I hope this brief introduction will give you a more precise sense of

Online Resources

Lawrence B. Solum, Constitutional Possibilities (forthcoming Indiana Law Journal).

Bibliography

Paul Pierson, Increasing Returns, Path Dependence, and the Study of Politics, 94 American Political Science Review 251 (2000)

Paul Pierson, Politics in Time: History, Institutions, and Social Analysis (Princeton University Press 2004)

William H. Sewell, Three Temporalities: Towards an Eventful Sociology, The Historic Turn in the Human Sciences 262-63 (Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press 1996)

S.J. Liebowitz & Stephen E. Margolis, PATH DEPENDENCE, LOCK-IN, AND HISTORY, 11 J.L. Econ. & Org. 205 (1995)

Oona A. Hathaway, PATH DEPENDENCE IN THE LAW: THE COURSE AND PATTERN OF LEGAL CHANGE IN A COMMON LAW SYSTEM, 86 Iowa L. Rev. 601 (2001)

Lucian Arye Bebchuk & Mark J. Roe, A THEORY OF PATH DEPENDENCE IN CORPORATE OWNERSHIP AND GOVERNANCE, 52 Stan. L. Rev. 127 (1999)

(This entry was last revised on November 11, 2007.)

Legal Theory Lexicon 045: The Attitudinal Model and the New Institutionalism

Introduction The legal academy is not the only locus for serious study of the law. Legal phenomena are examined in a variety of other disciplines—ranging from philosophy and sociology to history and anthropology, but political science (or “politics” or “government”) is the academic discipline that is most strongly associated with the study of law outside of the law schools. (Indeed, at one time political science departments sometimes were departments of public law.)  This entry in the Legal Theory Lexicon introduces two distinctive traditions for the study of the law from the perspective of political science. The first of these is the so-called “attitudinal model”—an approach that views courts—especially the United States Supreme Court—as policymaking institutions that are similar to legislatures and administrative agencies. The second approach is sometimes called “the new institutionalism” and it integrates a concern for legal doctrine and rules with other social science tools.

As always, this entry in the Lexicon is aimed at law students, especially first-year law students, with an interest in legal theory. Many of you were political science majors, and this may be “old hat” to you, but others will be exposed to these ideas for the first time. A word of warning: the dominant response of the legal academy to the study of law by political scientists is ignorance.

It may seems strange, but it is nonetheless true that many law professors have barely heard of the attitudinal model and would have to guess what the “new institutionalism” might be. Don’t make this mistake. Political scientists bring a rich set of tools and concepts to legal theory, and the legal academy has much to learn from them. One more thing: this entry discusses only a small portion of the political science that is relevant to the study of law. Political science includes many different approaches—including rational choice and game theoretic approaches that have much in common with what is called “law and economics” in the legal academy.

The Legal Model and the Attitudinal Model Suppose you were a political scientist and you wanted to explain and predict the behavior of a court—for example, the United States Supreme Court. What variables would serve as the best predictors? One possibility is that you would seek to predict Supreme Court decisions using legal concepts. For example, you might use the text of the Constitution as the basis for predicting the outcome of constitutional cases or the text of federal statutes to predict the outcome of cases that hinged on questions of statutory interpretation. Let’s call this approach to the explanation and prediction of legal decisions, the “legal model.”

Even first-year law students are likely to see that the legal model may not do a very good job of predicting the outcome of appellate cases in courts of last resort. Once you study constitutional law, you are likely to learn that decisions of the contemporary Supreme Court are rarely based on a simple application of preexisting legal rules to the facts (as they are presented to the Court given the procedural posture of the case). Instead, contemporary legal education is likely to emphasize the political dimension of the Supreme Court—with liberal, moderate, and conservative Justices lining up in more or less predictable patters, especially with respect to certain politically-charged issues—implied fundamental rights, federalism, and criminal procedure, for example.

Within the legal academy, the connection between judicial decisionmaking and politics is associated with American legal realism (and, more recently, with the Critical Legal Studies movement). But in political science, this same insight has been developed in an empirically more rigorous way, and frequently is called “the attitudinal model.”
The basic insight of the attitudinal model is that judicial decisions can, in at least some circumstances, be explained and predicted by the attitudes of judges. Thus, a simple attitudinal model might code each justice as occupying a point on a real line from left to right. A judge at the left-most point on the line would be very liberal. A judge on the right-most point of the line would be very conservative. The model might then predict how a judge’s attitudes (or position in attitudinal space) would correlate with positions on particular issues. Conservative judges are likely to vote against a right to abortion; liberal judges may be likely to uphold assertions of national power against challenges on federalism grounds.

A very simple version of the attitudinal model could be based on the notion that judges and decisions occupy a "position" in an attitudinal "space."  What does that jargon mean?  Suppose that attitudes about political ideology exist on a continuum from "left" (most liberal) to "right" most conservative.  This space could be represented as a "real line," with its origin at the most conservative extreme and its terminus and the most liberal extreme.  The political ideology of judges could be represented as a point (or position) on that line.  We could then imagine that outcomes in cases also occupy a position on the line.  The attitudinal model hypothesizes that a judges political ideology (or position in attitudinal space) will predict the way that the judge decides cases.

So we have two models of judicial decisionmaking: the legal model and the attitudinal model.  Which model does a better job of predicting judicial behavior? If we limit our attention to the United States Supreme Court, it looks, at first blush, like the attitudinal model “beats the pants” off the legal model. But appearances may be deceiving. The United States Supreme Court does not hear very many “easy cases”—cases in which the application of preexisting legal rules control the outcome of the dispute. Indeed, the Supreme Court has a discretionary appellate jurisdiction (for the most part), and the Court rarely grants the writ of certiorari in cases in which the law is clear. Instead, the Court tends to focus on those cases in which the law is uncertain, the lower courts are divided, or there is a perceived need for a change in the law. Moreover, cases which are controlled by clear rules of law are usually settled. It is extremely rare for a party to spend the hundreds of thousands of dollars required to litigate a case to the Supreme Court on a sure-fire loser!

There is another reason why we would not expect the Supreme Court’s decisions to be predicted by a simple “legal model.” The Court does not consider itself bound by its own prior decisions. Given that the Court has the legal power to depart from precedent, it is hardly surprising that the Court does not behave as if it were so bound.

When the legal model is applied to the decisions of lower courts and to the behavior of litigants who settle disputes “in the shadow of the law,” legal rules and doctrines have much more explanatory power. For example, defendants will rarely pay large sums to settle claims that have no legal merit. Of course, this point needs to be qualified in various ways. If a case has sufficient merit to get to a jury, it may have settlement value, even if an “ideal” jury would find against the plaintiff. Similarly, litigation itself is costly, and meritless claims may have “nuisance value” so long as they cannot be thrown out of court at an early stage—by a demurrer or motion to dismiss for failure to state a claim upon which relief can be granted.

More broadly, most legal practitioners (lawyers and judges, for example) are likely to think that a very simple attitudinal model is missing something. Even if politics is important and legal doctrine is not the only important factor that shapes legal behavior, any story about legal institutions that leaves the law out of the story seems to be missing something that is crucially important—both to the understanding of the law and to understanding American politics.

The New Institutionalism And that brings us to what is sometimes called “the new institutionalism,” a somewhat eclectic movement within political science that seeks to integrate legal doctrine and the distinctive character of legal institutions in political-science approaches to the study of law. When I say “somewhat eclectic,” I mean that there is no single methodology or doctrine that characterizes all of the work that fits under the “new institutionalism” umbrella. And of course, the name of this approach, the new institutionalism, points backwards to an old institutionalism—the approach commonly associated with figures like Corwin and McCloskey (and more recently with Martin Shapiro). One way to look at the work in the “new institutionalist” tradition is to use the distinction between internal and external perspectives that is familiar to legal theorists.

From the internal perspective, new institutionalist work is work that takes “the law,” broadly defined to include legal institutions, concepts, categories, and doctrines seriously. But new institutionalist work is not the same as doctrinal legal scholarship. The new institutionalists situate “the law” in political contexts. Where a doctrinalist analysis aims at producing a restatement of a legal rule, institutionalists are more likely to be focused on an elaboration of the development of legal thought in a wider social context.

From the external perspective, new institutionalists are interested in the causal influences on and of legal phenomenon. Some new institutionalists embrace the attitudinal model as a starting point for their analysis, whereas others may be more critical of attitudinalism, but any work that looks at law from the external perspective will step outside of legal doctrine and ask questions about the causal influences that shape legal institutions.

Conclusion It is hardly surprising that a brief Lexicon entry cannot do justice to a whole body of work. The best way to learn about the attitudinal model and the new institutionalism is to read some work. If I might be permitted to play favorites, I would strongly suggest The Constitution Besieged: The Rise and Demise of Lochner Era Police Powers Jurisprudence by Howard Gillman as a book the exemplifies the important contribution that political science can make to the study of law!

Bibliography

Lawrence Baum, The Puzzle of Judicial Behavior (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1997).

Howard Gillman, The Constitution Besieged: The Rise and Demise of Lochner Era Police Powers Jurisprudence (Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press, 1993).

Jeffrey A. Segal and Harold J. Spaeth, The Supreme Court and the Attitudinal Model (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993).

Martin Shapiro, Law and Politics in the Supreme Court (New York, Free Press 1964).

Howard Gillman, “What Has Law Got to Do With It?” 26 Law & Social Inquiry 465-504 (2001).

Rogers Smith, "Political Jurisprudence, the 'New Institutionalism,' and the Future of Public Law," 82 American Political Science Review 89-108 (1988). (available on JSTOR, follow this link.)

Supreme Court Decision-Making: New Institutionalist Approaches (edited by Howard Gillman & Cornell W. Clayton) (University of Chicago Press, 1999).

The Supreme Court in American Politics: New Institutionalist Interpretations (edited by Howard Gillman & Cornell W. Clayton) (University Press of Kansas, 1999).

In addition to the sources listed above, anything by either Howard Gillman or Mark Graber is highly recommended!

(This entry was last revised on July 15, 2007.)

Legal Theory Lexicon 040: Functional Explanation in Legal Theory

Introduction In a prior installment of the Legal Theory Lexicon, we explored the difference between Positive and Normative Legal Theories. Positive legal theory attempts to explain and predict legal behavior, especially the content of legal rules. Normative legal theory makes claims about what those rules should be. This week's post is about an important and familiar concept in positive legal theory--the idea of a functional explanation.

Why do legal rules have the form and content that they do, in fact, have? One answer to this question is based on the idea that the function of a rule can be part of a causal explanation of the content of the rule. Why does corporations law limit the liability of stockholders? One kind of answer to that question might begin: "That rule is the way it is, because it serves the interest of the capitalist class." Or, "The rule is that way, because that is the efficient rule, and common law adjudication selects for efficient rules." In other words, the content of the rule is explained (causally) by the function the rule serves.

The Idea of a Functionalist Explanation Functionalist explanations are familiar to almost everyone, because of the important role they play in evolutionary biology. When we try to explain why an organism has a particular trait--why male peacock's have their feathers or why the elephants have trunks--we appeal to the function that the trait serves. Male peacock's have colorful feathers because that trait serves to attract female peacock's and hence the genes produce this trait are favored by evolution. Elephants have trunks, because they enable elephants to eat and drink more efficiently.

In biology, functionalist explanations are scientifically valid, because we understand the causal mechanism whereby function plays a causal role. That causal mechanism is evolution, of course, and we have a very good explanation for how evolution works in the form of genetics. DNA (plus a lot of other stuff) provides the precise causal mechanism by which evolution operates.

Functionalist Explanation in the Social Sciences Functionalist explanations are not limited to biology. Sociologists frequently explain social behavior on the basis of the social function that the behavior serves. Why does this group do a "rain dance"? Because the rain dance ritual serves to create social cohesion in times of stress. There is, however, a significance difference between functionalist explanation in biology and functionalist explanation in the social sciences. In biology, functionalist explanations are underwritten by a well-confirmed theory of the causal mechanism by which evolution functions. In social science, the causal mechanisms are murkier. What causal law explains how the social cohesion function of rain dances leads to their perpetuation across generations? Without an answer to questions like this, we have at least prima facie reason to be suspicious of functionalist explanations in the social sciences. This suspicion is enhanced because functionalist explanations can easily become nonfalsifiabile. In the case of biology, because evolutionary theory is well confirmed, we more or less know in advance that some functionalist explanation has got to be right--the question is which functionalist explanation is correct. In the case of social science, there is no well-confirmed general theory of social evolution (or similar nonevolutionary but functionalist theory), so it isn't necessarily the case that there is always a true functionalist explanation for any given social behavior.

Functionalist Explanations in Legal Theory And that brings us to law. Functionalist explanations are frequently invoked in positive legal theory. That is, when we ask the question, "Why does the law have such and such content?", the answer frequently is, "Because such and such a rule functions in thus and so way." Here are some examples:

Marxist Explanations of Law--Marxist social theory relies heavily on functionalist explanation in general, and so it is not surprising that many Marxist explanations of law are functionalist in nature. "The law is such and such, because that rule serves the interest of the capitalist class." "Feudal law governing rights in land gave way to modern property law with free alienability, because that change was required by the transition from the feudal mode of production to the capitalist mode of production."

Legal Evolution Functionalist explanations are also implicit in any claim that the law evolves (where "evolves" is meant in a technical sense and is not a mere synonym for "changes"). The idea that legal systems evolve is very common, but there is not general theory of legal evolution that has the well-confirmed status of the corresponding theory of biological evolution. Be on the watch for claims about legal evolution; such claims frequently are not well thought out and almost always lack empirical support.

Efficiency Another example of functionalist explanation in legal theory is the claim that the common law rules are efficient. "Why did the common law adopt the Learned Hand formula as the standard for negligence?" "Because that is the efficient standard." Sometimes these claims are accompanied by an account of the mechanism by which a common law system moves towards efficient legal rules. For example, it might be argued that inefficient legal rules will be subject to continuous litigation pressure; whereas efficient legal rules, once adopted, tend to facilitate settlement of disputes.

Microfoundations When you are thinking about particular functionalist explanations in positive legal theory, it is particularly helpful to ask the question whether the explanation has "microfoundations." That is, does the functionalist explanation for a particular legal rule (or change in legal rules) incorporate a specific account of the causal mechanism by which the function caused the rule or change. It is always possible that a particular functionalist explanation is true, even if microfoundations cannot be provided, but the absence of causal mechanisms is a reason to be suspicious.

For a very lucid explanation of the role of microfoundations in social science, I highly recommend Jon Elster's brilliant book Making Sense of Marx. And for an equally brilliant defense of functionalist explanations, consult G.A. Cohen's Karl Marx's Theory of History. (The debate between Cohen and Elster is one of the most interesting and important debates in contemporary philosophy of the social science.)

Conclusion Let me conclude with a very short diatribe. Legal theorists need a basic understanding of positive legal theory. (I hope this is obvious to everyone!) That means that legal academics should, at a minimum, have a working familiarity with the general concepts of the methodology and theory of the social sciences, including basic ideas about the role of functionalist explanations. But almost no law schools (even the elite ones that train most academics) offer courses in the methodology of positive legal theory! That's bad. Real bad.

(This entry was last updated on June 10, 2007.)

Legal Theory Lexicon 036: IndeterminacyIntroduction

Introduction It all depends on your first year section, but many law students begin to get a sinking feeling about the law early in their first year. Does the law actually make any difference to the way cases are decided? Before law school, most of us would answer "Yes, of course." And many law students start law school with the assumption that they will "learn the rules." But in contemporary American legal education, many students encounter a thesis that goes something like this:

The laws have nothing to do with how cases come out. They are just window dressing that skillful lawyers and judges can manipulate to justify any decision they please.

This counterintuitive position is a version of the claim that law is indeterminate, or what we might call the indeterminacy thesis.

The Indeterminacy Debate The indeterminacy thesis is associated with legal realism, but in its most strident form, it is most strongly identified with the Critical Legal Studies movement--a loose and multifaceted cluster of legal scholars that became very prominent in the 1980s.

The indeterminacy debate is about the claim that the law does not constrain judicial decisions. Put differently, the claim is that all cases are hard cases and that there are no easy cases. The strongest version of the claim is the notion that any result in any legal dispute can be justified as the legally correct outcome, but the thesis can be modified or weakened in various ways.

What does the indeterminacy thesis mean? Let's call the claim that the laws (broadly defined to include cases, regulations, statutes, constitutional provisions, and other legal materials) do not determine legal outcomes the indeterminacy thesis. Because there are many different versions of the indeterminacy thesis, our approach will be to identify clearly the distinct versions of the indeterminacy thesis and then to consider each version of the thesis on its own merits.

Indeterminacy versus Underdeterminacy The next step in clarifying the indeterminacy debate is to distinguish between "indeterminacy" and "underdeterminacy" of law. Thus far, we have accepted the implicit assumption that indeterminacy and determinacy are exhaustive categories, i.e. that the decision of a case is either determined by the law or it is indeterminate. This assumption is not correct. A legal dispute may be constrained by the law, but not determined by it.
Roughly, an case is underdetermined by the law if the outcome (including the formal mandate and the content of the opinion) can vary within limits that are defined by the legal materials. This approximation can be made more precise by considering the relationship between two sets of outcomes of a given case. The first set consists of all possible results — all the imaginable variations in the mandate (affirmance, reversal, remand, etc.) and in the reasoning of the opinion. The second set consists of the outcomes that can be squared with the law — the set or legally acceptable outcomes. The distinctions between indeterminacy, underdeterminacy and determinacy of the law with respect to a given case may be marked with the following definitions:

• The law is determinate with respect to a given case if and only if the set of legally acceptable outcomes contains one and only one member.
• The law is underdeterminate with respect to a given case if and only if the set of legally acceptable outcomes is a nonidentical subset of the set of all possible results.
• The law is indeterminate with respect to a given case if the set of legally acceptable outcomes is identical with the set of all possible results.

Hard Cases The notion of a "hard case" can now be explicated with reference to the idea of underdeterminacy. A case is a "hard case" if the outcome is underdetermined by the law in a manner such that the judge must choose among legally acceptable outcomes in a way that changes who will be perceived as the "winner" and who the "loser." The point is that the outcomes of an case need not be completely indeterminate in order for it to be a hard case; a case in which the results are underdetermined by the law will be "hard" if the legally acceptable variation makes the difference between loss or victory for the litigants. The distinction between indeterminacy and underdeterminacy is rarely observed in the indeterminacy debate, but it is nonetheless important to assessing the debate. Claims that the law is radically indeterminate are implausible, but more modest claims about underdeterminacy may both be defensible and play a role in a radical critique of liberal legal theory.

Is the law radically indeterminate? The strongest (the most ambitious) claim about the indeterminacy of law is the claim that in every possible case, any possible outcome is legally correct. In other words, the strong indeterminacy thesis is the claim that the law is radically indeterminate:

The Strong Indeterminacy Thesis: In any set of facts about actions and events that could be processed as a legal case, any possible outcome — consisting of a decision, order, and opinion — will be legally correct.

To falsify the strong indeterminacy thesis one needs to establish that there is at least one possible case in which at least one possible outcome is legally incorrect. This refutation would disprove the strong indeterminacy thesis only in the sense stipulated here; it would not establish that the law is always, usually, or even frequently determinate.

The Argument from Easy Cases One way to establish that there is at least one possible case in which at least one outcome is legally incorrect has been called "the argument from easy cases" by Fred Schauer. In its simplest form, the argument from easy cases points to a hypothetical case in which at least one outcome is legally incorrect. The following discussion attempts to formulate one such easy case:

Consider the following case, consisting of facts, a legal rule, and a legal event. First, postulate the following set of events and actions: Ben visited Point Magu State Beach in Ventura County, California between the hours of 12:30 p.m. and 4:00 p.m. on Sunday, February 14, 2004. Second, consider the following legal rule: Section 2 of the Sherman Antitrust Act states, "Every person who shall monopolize or attempt to monopolize, or combine or conspire with any other person or persons, to monopolize any part of the trade or commerce among the several States, or with foreign nations, shall be deemed guilty of a felony . . ." (26 Stat. 209 (1890)). Third, consider the following claim about a possible case: Ben's visit to the beach on the date and time specified would not constitute a violation of Section 2 of the Sherman Act. In order fully to convince you of this, I would need to tell you more about what went on at the beach on that day. The details will include Ben's looking at the ocean, speaking with friends about politics, reading a book, and so forth. Children flew kites; a friend grilled chicken and hot dogs. You might want to know whether Ben discussed any business dealings at the beach: he did not. But no matter how many questions you asked, no matter how hard you tried, you would not be able to make out a legally valid case that the Sherman Act was violated. If a prosecution were filed against Ben based only on the events specified, a verdict of guilty would be legally incorrect.

This claim about legal correctness does not to deny that it is possible that things would go wrong in some way. Perjury might be committed; the judge assigned to the case might be deranged. Our system of justice is hardly foolproof, but that does not entail the further conclusion that any result is legally correct.

The upshot of this example of an easy case is this: there is at least one possible case in which at least one possible outcome is legally incorrect. Therefore, the strong indeterminacy thesis (as I have defined it) is false. Notice my argument is not that the outcome of an antitrust prosecution based on the facts I outline is predictable. Rather, my claim is that one possible outcome, i.e. conviction, would be legally incorrect. If the law is correctly applied and the witnesses testify truthfully, the prosecution should fail.

Changing the Hypothetical Of course, we can easily change the hypothetical so that the legally correct outcome would change. Just add a conspiratorial conversation at the beach that does violate the Sherman Act. But the fact that the hypothetical can be changed so as to change the legally correct outcome is not responsive to the argument from easy cases. Let us stipulate for the sake of argument that it is always be possible to add facts to an easy case such that the addition of the new facts will change the legally correct outcome of the case. This does not demonstrate that there are no easy cases.

Quite the contrary, the fact that the advocate of the strong indeterminacy thesis needed to add facts to the easy case in order to change the legally correct outcome shows that as originally stated the easy case was not indeterminate. If the strong indeterminacy thesis were true, then a reasonable legal argument should be available on the facts as originally stated in the hypothetical. The additional facts should not be necessary. That facts must be added to transform an easy case into a hard one demonstrates that the law does constrain the set of legally correct outcomes.

Is a modest version of the indeterminacy thesis defensible? If the strong indeterminacy thesis cannot be supported, is there a more modest claim about indeterminacy that is defensible and has critical bite? One modest version of the indeterminacy thesis might be the following: in most (or almost all) of the cases that are actually litigated, the outcome is underdetermined by the law. This claim about indeterminacy is not refuted by the argument from hypothetical easy cases. Confirmation of the actually-litigated underdeterminacy thesis would require empirical investigation, but there are some good reasons to believe that cases which actually proceed to filing, trial, or appeal will frequently be underdetermined by the law. Litigants will rarely have an incentive to settle easy cases. For example, in a civil dispute where the law gives a determinate answer to the question of who will win and what the amount of their judgment will be, the parties to litigation will usually prefer to settle, rather than incur the expenses of litigation. Uncertainty about the law is one of the factors that selects which cases will be filed, go to trial, and be appealed. This point should not be exaggerated, however: litigation may proceed for any number of reasons, including an irrational overconfidence in a hopeless case, uncertainty about facts in a case in which the law is clear, and so forth.

Important Cases Another modest version of the indeterminacy thesis claims that while many ordinary cases are roughly determinate, all the really important cases are indeterminate. Put more precisely, the claim might be that the important issues in important cases are underdetermined by the law. If true, this claim might preserve almost all of the critical force of the strong indeterminacy thesis. Yes, there are easy cases, but those cases are unimportant.

One difficulty with the important case version of the indeterminacy thesis is its potential circularity. Our concept of what counts as an important case may have indeterminacy as a component. Part of what makes a case important is that the result is not certain or predictable; if we all knew how the case would come out, we would not be interested. Likewise, the Supreme Court may select cases in part on the basis of their legal indeterminacy.

Conclusion I have just begun to scratch the surface of the indeterminacy debate, but I hope that I've provided enough perspective so that you can begin to think about this important question on your own. As I'm sure you know by now, I am not a fan of the radical indeterminacy thesis, but I also think it is important to recognize that the law is underdeterminate in important ways.
For more on the indeterminacy debate, see Lawrence On the Indeterminacy Crisis: Critiquing Critical Dogma, 54 University of Chicago Law Review 462 (1987). (online here)

(This entry was last revised on May 13, 2007.)

Legal Theory Lexicon 020: Causation

Introduction Causation is one of the basic conceptual tools of legal analysis. And for most purposes, we can get along with a notion of causation that is both vague and ambiguous. In the world of medium sized physical objects (automobiles, pedestrians, etc.), our judgments about causation rarely depend on conceptual niceties. The driver’s negligence caused the death of the pedestrian but did not cause Barak Obama to win the Iowa caucuses in 2008. In these cases, various notions of causality converge. The person on the street, the scientist, and lawyer can all agree in such cases that for all practical purposes X caused Y but not Z. But sometimes the various notions of cause come apart exposing ambiguities and vagueness in both ordinary and legal talk about causes and effects. This post provides a very basic introduction to causation for law students (especially first-year law students) with an interest in legal theory.

Cause-in-Fact & Legal Cause Let’s put the most important distinction on the table right away. Contemporary legal theory and judicial practice assume that there is a distinction between legal cause on the one hand and cause-in-fact on the other. What does that mean? That’s a huge question, of course, but we can state one conclusion straight away: that X is a cause-in-fact of Y does not entail that X is a legal cause of Y. Less obviously, that X is a legal cause of Y does not entail that X is a cause-in-fact of Y. The various ways that cause-in-fact and legal cause can come apart leads many to the conclusion that legal cause simply has nothing to do with causation, but this turns out to be an exaggeration. I know this all sounds very airy. So let’s get down to brass tacks!

Cause-in-Fact What do we mean when we say that X is a cause-in-fact of Y? Many law students learn that the answer to this question is but-for causation. If it is the case that but for X, Y would not have occurred, then X is a but-for cause of Y and hence X is a cause-in-fact of Y. This simple story works most of the time, and as a rough and ready rule of thumb, it isn’t half bad. But it turns out that if you try to use but-for causation as a hard and fast rule for determining whether X is the cause of Y, you will run into trouble, sooner or later. In torts and criminal law, but-for causation runs into trouble somewhere in the midst of the first-year course. In a sense, the point of this Lexicon post is to provide a set of tools that for understanding the troubles that overreliance on but-for causation can cause.

Necessary and Sufficient Causes The first item in the causation toolkit is the distinction between necessary and sufficient cause. The basic ideas are simple and familiar. X is a necessary cause of Y, if Y would not have occurred without X. Ben’s running the red light is a necessary cause of the damage to Alice’s car, just in case the damage would not have occurred without Ben’s having run the light. The idea of "necessary cause" is the same idea expressed by the phrase "but-for cause."
X is a sufficient cause of Y, if Y would have occurred so long as X occurred. Alice’s shooting Ben through the heart is a sufficient cause of Ben’s death, just in case the shot thru the head by itself would have caused Ben’s death. This is true, even though Ben would have died anyway, because Cynthia shot him through the head at the same time Alice shot him through the heart.

This rough ready distinction between necessary and sufficient causes really won't do all the necessary work.  For example, Alice's shooting Ben through the heart is not truly sufficient, by itself, no matter what other conditions obtain, to cause Ben's death.  If Ben had been on an operating table awaiting a heart transplant, then he might have lived despite the slot.  One suggestion for dealing with cases like this is to identify "sufficient causes" as a "necessary element of a sufficient set."  Things get even more complex from for the purposes of this introduction the point is simply to see the indadequacy of "necessary and sufficient cause" as a tool for dealing with complex cases in a precise way.

The Role of Counterfactuals The notions of necessary and sufficient causation are familiar to almost everyone. We use these ideas all the time in everyday life. But the very familiarity of these concepts creates a temptation to take them for granted. There is an important feature of these ideas that our day-to-day use of them does not make explicit. Both necessary and sufficient causation are counterfactual concepts. What does that mean? “Counterfactual” is simply the fancy name for “what if” thinking. What if Ben had stopped at the red light? Would the damage to Alice’s car still have occurred? What if the Ben had gotten immediate medical attention? Would the shot through the head still have killed him? Every statement regarding a necessary or sufficient cause can be interpreted as making a counterfactual (“what if”) claim.

What-if reasoning is itself familiar and ordinary. When we say, Ben’s running the red light was a necessary cause of the damage to Alice’s car, we are claiming that if the world had been different and Ben had not run the red light, then Alice’s car would not have been damaged. We imagine what the world would have been like if Ben had stopped at the red light, and Alice had proceeded through the intersection without being struck by Ben’s car. Counterfactual reasoning can get more complicated that this, but for our purposes we can use everyday what-if reasoning as our model of role of counterfactuals in necessary and sufficient causation.

Overdetermination Once we’ve gotten the notions of necessary and sufficient causes, we can move on to the idea of overdetermination. An effect is overdetermined if it has more than one sufficient cause. Take the case of Alice shooting Ben through the heart. We have postulated that the bullet passing through the heart was a sufficient cause of Ben’s death, but it may not have been a necessary cause. Suppose that Alice was a member of a firing squad, and that at the exact same moment that Alice’s bullet passed through Ben’s heart, another Bullet, fired by Cynthia, passed through Ben’s cerebral cortex and that this would have resulted in Ben’s death, even if Alice’s had not fired or her bullet had missed. Ben’s death now results from two sufficient causes, but neither Alice’s shot nor Cynthia’s shot was necessary. If Alice had not fired, Cynthia’s shot would have killed Ben. If Cynthia had not fired, Alice’s shot would have killed Ben.

Overdetermination is important, because it undermines the idea that but-for causation tells us everything we need to know about cause-in-fact. We might say that both Alice and Cynthia’s shooting caused Ben’s death or we might say they were both partial causes of Ben’s death, but we would not be likely to say that neither Alice nor Cynthia’s shot was the cause.

The firing squad example was described as a case of simultaneous overdetermination—both sufficient causes occurred at the same time. What if Cynthia shot a few seconds before Alice and Ben died before Alice’s shot pierced his heart? In that case, Cynthia’s shot would have preempted the causal role of Alice’s shot. If Cynthia had missed, then Alice’s shot would have killed Ben. This kind of case is sometimes called preemptive causation.

Coincidence Overdetermination poses one kind of problem for but-for causation, coincidence poses another a different sort of difficulty. Suppose the driver of a trolley is speeding. As a result the trolley is in just wrong place and time and a tree falls, injuring a passenger. If trolley had gone just a little faster or just a little slower, the tree would have missed the trolley and the injury would not have occurred. Given these circumstances, speeding was a but-for cause (a necessary cause) of the tree injuring the passenger. So what? Coincidence is no problem for cause-in-fact, but it does pose a problem for the legal system. Intuitions vary, but lots of folks are inclined to believe that one should not be legally responsible for harms that one causes as a result of coincidences.

Coincidence is related to a variety of other problems with but-for causation. Take our example of Ben running the stoplight and hitting Alice’s car. Running the stoplight was one but-for cause of this accident, but there are many others. For example, Alice’s being in the intersection was also a but-for cause. And how did Alice come to be in the intersection at just the time when Ben was running the red light? If her alarm clock hadn’t gone off, she would have slept in and arrived in the intersection long after Ben, so her alarm clock’s ringing was another but-for cause. And you know how the story goes from here. As we trace the chain of but-for causes back and out, we discover that thousands and millions and billions of actions and events are but-for causes of the accident.

Legal Cause What do we about the problems with problems created by but-for cause? One way that the law responds is with the idea of legal cause or proximate cause. In this post, we cannot hope to achieve a deep understanding of legal cause, but we can get a start. Here are some of the ideas that help me to understand legal cause.

First, there is a terminological issue: causation may be confused with responsibility. “Legal cause” is only partially about cause. We start with the idea of cause-in-fact (understood in light of the distinction between necessary sufficient cause). This idea of cause seems, on the surface, to fit into the structure of various legal doctrines. So we imagine that if a defendant breaches a duty of care and causes a harm, then defendant is legally responsible for the harm. This works for lots of cases, but then we start thinking about other cases like overdetermination and coincidence. “Legal cause” is the way that we adjust our ideas about legal responsibility to overcome the counterintuitive results that would follow from a simple reliance on but-for causation. In other words, “legal cause” may be a misnomer. It might be clearer if we used the phrase “legal responsibility” (or some other phrase) to describe the ways in which we adjust the law.

Second, legal cause is frequently associated with the idea of foreseeability. For example, in coincidence cases, the harm (the tree injuring the passenger) is not a foreseeable consequence of the wrongful act (driving the trolley at an excessive speed). If the purpose of the law is deterrence, then no good purpose may be served by assigning legal responsibility in cases where the effect is unforeseeable.

Third, legal cause is sometimes associated with the idea of proximity in time and space. Of course, the phrase “proximate cause” emphasizes this connection. We usually don’t want to hold defendants responsible for the remote and attenuated effects of their actions. We frequently do want to hold defendants responsible for the immediate and direct effects of their actions. “Proximity” seems to capture this point, but an overemphasis on proximity in time and space leads to other problems. Some immediate consequences do not give rise to legal responsibility: the trolley driver may have started speeding just seconds before the tree fell. Some causal chains that extend for long distances over great durations do give rise to legal responsibility: Osama bin Laden’s responsibility for 9/11 would not be vitiated by the fact that he set events in motions years in advance and thousands of miles away.

Probability Our investigation of causality so far has elided an important set of issues—the connections between causation and probability. These connections are far too large a topic for this post, but even a superficial analysis requires that we consider two perspectives--ex ante and ex post.

Ex post questions about causation arise in a variety of contexts, but for the legal system, a crucial context is provided by litigation and especially trial. In many cases, there is no doubt about causation. When Ben’s car speeds through the red light and hits Alice’s car, we don’t have much doubt about what caused the damage. But in many types of cases, causation will be in doubt. Did the chemical cause cancer? Was the desk job the cause of the back injury? Sometimes the evidence will answer these questions with certainty (or perhaps, with something that is so close to certainty that we treat it as certainty for legal and practical purposes). But in other cases, the evidence will leave us with a sense that that the defendant’s action is more or less likely to have caused the harm to the defendant. Such probabilities may be expressed either qualitatively or quantitatively. That is, we might say that it is “highly likely” that X caused Y or we might say that there is a 50% chance (p = .5) that X caused Y.

Ex ante issues of causation also arise for the law. For example, the legal system may be required to assign a value to a risk of harm that has not yet been realized. David has been exposed to asbestos, but may or may not develop cancer. In this case, probabilities refer to the likelihood of future events.

Decision theory and mathematics have elaborate formal machinery for representing and calculating probabilities. In this short post, we cannot even scratch this surface, but there are two or three bits of notation that every legal theorist should know:

--The letter “p” is frequently used to represent probability. Most law students encounter this notation in Justice Hand’s famous opinion in the Carroll Towing case (B < PL or “burden less than loss discounted by probability). The notation p(x) = 0.1 can be read “the probability of x equals 1/10.” And the notation, p=0.5 can be read “probability equals one in two.”

--The symbol “|” is frequently used to represent conditional probabilities. Suppose we want to represent the probability that X will occur given that Y has occurred, we can use this notation: p(X|Y). So we could represent the sentence, “The probability of Cancer given Exposure to Asbestos is ten percent,” as p(C|EA)=0.1.

Types and Tokens So far, we have been focusing mostly on cases where an individual instance of harm is caused by some particular wrongful action. But of course, we frequently think about causation as a more general relationship. For example, in science we might speak of “causal laws.” There is no standard terminology for this distinction: we might use the phrase “individual causation” and “systematic causation.” One helpful bit of terminology for getting at this idea is to differentiate “types” and “tokens.” Ben’s running the rend light at a particular time and location is an event token and it is a token of a type of events, i.e. the type “running a red light.”

Once we have the distinction between types and tokens in place, we can define individual causation as a causal relationship between a token (e.g. a token event) and another token (e.g. a token action). And we can define systematic causation as a causal relationship between a type (e.g. a type of event) and another type (e.g. a type of action). Science studies causal relationships between types; trials frequently involve questions about the causation of one token by another. This leads to another important point: the question whether an individual harm was caused by an individual action will sometimes depend on the question whether a systematic causal relationship exists; for example, the question whether this factory’s release of a chemical caused an individual case of cancer may require a jury to resolve a “scientific” question about systematic causation.

Conclusion Even though this is a long entry by the standards of the Legal Theory Lexicon it is a very compressed and incomplete treatment of the concept of causation. Given the way legal education is organized (around doctrinal fields like torts, criminal law, and evidence), most law students never get a truly comprehensive introduction to causation. Torts may introduce the distinction between cause-in-fact and legal cause; criminal law, problems of overdetermination; and evidence, the relationship between probability and causation. If this post accomplishes anything of value, I hope that it serves as warning—causation is a deep and broad topic about which there is much to learn.

Bibliography

H.L.A. Hart & Tony Honore, Causation in the Law (2d ed. 1985). This is the book on causation and the law. Currently out of print, but used copies are available on Amazon.com.

Causation (Oxford Readings in Philosophy) (Ernest Sosa & Michael Tooley eds. 1993). A fine collection of essays, with contributions by J.L Mackie, Michael Scriven, Jaegwon Kim, G.E.M. Anscombe, G.H. von Wright, C.J. Ducasse, Wesley C. Salmon, David Lewis, Paul Horwich, Jonathan Bennett, Ernest Sosa, and Michael Tooley.

Links

Antony Honore, Causation in the Law, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Peter Menzies, Counterfactual Theories of Causation, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Jonathan Schaffer, The Metaphyiscs of Causation, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

(This entry was last modified on March 27, 2008.)

Legal Theory Lexicon 016: Positive and Normative Legal Theory

Introduction One of the most fundamental distinctions in legal theory is that between "positive legal theory" and "normative legal theory." This post provides a very brief introduction to the distinction, aimed at law students (especially first years) with an interest in legal theory.

The core idea of the distinction between positive and normative legal theory is simple: positive legal theory seeks to explain what the law is and why it is that way, and how laws affect the world, whereas normative legal theories tell us what the law ought to be. Thus, a positive theory of tort law might seek to explain what causal forces have produced the existing principles of tort law, whereas a normative theory of tort law would tell us what rules of tort liability would be best, right, or justifiable. Or more simply: positive legal theories are about facts and normative legal theories are about values.

Positive Legal Theory Sometimes, the notion of positive legal theory is presented in an oversimplified way--as if there were a single, well-defined type of theory that counted as positive. In fact, the phrase "positive legal theory" is used in a variety of ways. The one thing that positive legal theories have in common is that they are not normative. Nonetheless, there are three characteristic type of positive legal theory that can be identified:

Positive Legal Theory Type 1: Doctrinal Theories--The first kind of legal theory that is called "positive" is quite simply a theory of what the content of a particular field of legal doctrine is. Thus, a theory of the freedom of speech might simply seek to explain the shape of existing first amendment doctrine. Or a theory of hearsay rule might seek to provide an account of the rule and exceptions that explains and accurately predicts particular applications of the rule. Doctrinal legal theories are responsive to questions like, "What are the principles that shape this area of the law?" or "Can these cases be explained by some underlying theory?"


Positive Legal Theory Type 2: Explanatory Theories--The second kind of legal theory to which the label "positive" is applied are explanatory theories--theories about why the law is the way it is. For example, a very simple Marxist theory might state that the content of the law can best be explained by the interests of the ruling class. Some legal economists have tried to argue that common-law rules are efficient, because there is "evolutionary pressure" on inefficient legal rules.


Positive Legal Theory Type 3: Effects Theories--The third kind of legal theories that are referred to as "positive" are theories about the consequences that will be produced by a given regime of legal rules. This is the sense of "positive theory" that is most frequently invoked by legal economists. The question --"What effects will a strict liability regime (as opposed to a negligence) regime have on the manufacturers of consumer products?"--can be answered by a legal theory that is positive in the sense that it predicts behavior but does not explicitly evaluate the desirability of the rule.

Normative Legal Theory Normative legal theories, on the other hand, are by their nature evaluative. Thus, a normative theory of products liability law would take a stand on the question whether negligence or strict liability is the better rule. Normative legal theories tend to be entwined with more general normative theories, e.g. moral or political theories, although this is not necessarily the case. The Legal Theory Lexicon already includes entries on deontology, utilitarianism, and virtue ethics--three of the most important general normative theories that have had an influence on the law. There are three other distinctions that are important to understanding the general idea of a normative legal theory:

Ideal versus Nonideal Theory Some normative legal theories are "ideal"--that is, they are theories about what the best legal rule would be in the world in which everything was politically possible, the law could be adequately enforced, and other legal rules that interact with the subject of the theory could be adjusted to produce the best overall system. Other normative legal theories are "nonideal"--that is, they are theories that assume a variety of constraints on the choice of legal rules. For example, a nonideal theory might take into account political feasibility or it might take into account the possibility that the system would not provide an optimal level of enforcement for the rule that would otherwise be best. The Legal Theory Lexicon entry on second best explores these ideas in greater detail.

Justificatory Theories and Critical Theories Normative legal theories also vary in their "attitude" towards the status quo. You are likely to encounter normative legal theories that start with the question, "What is the best justification that be given for such and such a legal rule?" These justificatory theories have a limited purpose. They do not address the ultimate question, "What is the best legal rule?" On the other hand, many legal theories have the opposite purpose--the critique of existing legal doctrine. Thus, a critical theory might enumerate all of the criticisms that could be made of an existing legal rule--even though some of the criticisms may rest on inconsistent premises.

Normative Legal Theories, Political Philosophy, and Comprehensive Moral Theories  Another important issue concerns the relationship of normative legal theory to other normative theories, especially political philosophy, ethics, and comprehensive moral theories.  Normative political philosphy asks questions about the normative justification for the state and the normative principles that establish the ends of and limits on the content of the law.  The term ethics can be defined in various ways--but for our purposes on this , ethics might be seen as concerned with the morality of individual action outside the political sphere.  A comprehensive moral theory might encompass both ethics and normative political philosophy.  Normative legal theories have as their domain the normative evaluation of legal substance and procedure.  Normative theories about the law as a whole might be called "general normative jurisprudence."  There can also be normative theories of particular legal domains--"normative constitutional theory," "normative tort theory," and so forth.

One picture of this relationship normative legal theory, on the one hand, and moral and political philosophy, on the other, might be called "top-down."  That is, we might start with a comprehensive moral doctrine (such as utilitarianism or Kant's version of deontology).  Using the method of deduction, we might try to deduce the principles of political philosophy and ethics from a comprehensive moral theory, and the principles of normative legal theory might in turn be deduced from those of political philosophy and ethics.  The top-down approach is exemplified by some consequentialists, who argue for a comprehensive moral doctrine such as welfarism or utilitarianism and then derive normative justifications or criticisms from the comprehensive doctrine and facts about which legal rules will result in what consequences.

Another possibility is that normative legal theory is relatively independent of ethics and political philosophy.  It is at least conceivable that one might believe that the realm of interpersonal ethics is governed by a different set of principles and theories than is the law.  For example, one might espouse deontological ethics, but believe that the laws should (for the most part) be aimed at maximizing utility.

The Intersection of Positive and Normative Theory So far, we have been assuming a fairly sharp distinction between positive and normative legal theory. And for many purposes, assuming that there is a bright line that separates normative and descriptive legal theory is a good working hypothesis. Even assuming there is such a bright line, however, there are relationships between positive and normative legal theories.

Positive Theory in the Service of Normative Theory One relationship is clear and straightforward. Many normative theories underdetermine what the legal rules should be in the absence of substantial information about the effects of the rules. This is most obvious in the case of utilitarian theories, where information about consequences does all the real work of determining which legal rule is best. For normative theories like utilitarianism, positive theory performs an essential service. Without a positive account of the effects of a given rule choice, utilitarianism has nothing to say about what rule is best.

Positive Theory as a Constraint on Normative Theory Another relatively noncontroversial relationship between positive and normative legal theories arises when a positive theory that explains why the law has the shape that it does, is taken as imposing a constraint on normative theory. For example, public choice theory makes certain predictions about how legislatures will act in response to various incentives. Some legal rules that might be justified by ideal normative legal theory may be considered "unrealistic" in light of positive theory. In cases like this, positive legal theory provides constraints that limit the options available to normative theory.

Interpretivism and "Law as Integrity" There is another, more controversial, way that positive and normative legal theory can interact. Ronald Dworkin's theory of law, "law as integrity," attempts to combine the aims of positive doctrinal theory and normative theory. The idea is that a legal theory should both fit and justify the existing legal landscape. Thus, a Dworkinian theory of the freedom of speech would need to both fit the contours of the Supreme Court's decisions and justify those decisions. Of those interpretations of free speech doctrine that fit the legal topography, Dworkin maintains that judges should select that interpretation that makes the existing law, "the best that it can be." Dworkin's view of legal theory blurs the line between positive and normative legal theory--essentially combining the enterprises that I have called positive doctrinal theory and justificatory normative theory. As you might imagine, this is hugely controversial--although that is a topic for another post.

Conclusion The distinction between positive and normative legal theories is fundamental, but once you have the terminology down, it is usually easy to apply. The tricky part comes when you are confronted with theories like Dworkin's that blur the lines between the positive and the normative. When you do, my advice is that you stay on your toes. A common mistake is to try to force interpretivist theories into either the positive or the normative. Although there may be deep reasons of legal theory that would justify such a forcing move, it will rarely be productive to start there. A better strategy is to try to understand such hybrid theories from the inside first. When you are constructing your own theories, it is always important to be sure you know whether your theory is positive, normative, or has elements of both. One of the oft-repeated questions that law professors ask of entry-level candidates giving job talks (or ambitious students writing papers) is whether their theory is positive or normative. Be sure you know the answer before the question is asked!

(This entry was last revised on February 23, 2008.)