Legal Theory Blog

Legal Theory Lexicon: Strict Construction and Judicial Activism

Introduction

This entry in the Legal Theory Lexicon is a bit unusual. Rather than explicating concepts that are important to legal theory, the point of this post is to debunk two concepts that (arguably) are unimportant (or even meaningless), strict construction and judicial activism.

Strict Construction

Strict construction is short hand for the idea that the United States Constitution should be strictly construed. The phrase appears to have become popular as a campaign slogan used by Richard Nixon when he ran for President in 1968. Nixon promised that he would appoint judges who were "strict constructionists" as opposed to the "judicial activism" that characterized the Warren Court, but the phrase has much earlier origins and may go back as far as the late eighteenth century.

The question is: what does strict construction mean? Is there really a method of constitutional interpretation described by the phrase "strict construction" or is this a mere political slogan? The confusion engendered by the term is illustrated by the following definition (offered on law.com):

strict construction (narrow construction) n. interpreting the Constitution based on a literal and narrow definition of the language without reference to the differences in conditions when the Constitution was written and modern conditions, inventions and societal changes. By contrast "broad construction" looks to what someone thinks was the "intent" of the framers' language and expands and interprets the language extensively to meet current standards of human conduct and complexity of society.

This definition borders on incoherence, opposing "strict construction" to both originalism and to the notion of a living constitution--ideas that might be thought antithetical to one another. So can we offer a better definition of strict construction? One way to approach this question is via the method of separation of cases. What are the possible meanings of strict construction?

• Strict Construction as "Textualism". One possibility is that strict construction refers to textualism--the idea that all constitutional interpretations must be grounded in the text of the Constitution. There are two difficulties with this suggestion. First, almost all of the Warren Court jurisprudence to which strict constructionism was opposed was rooted in the text of the Constitution in some way. Even the "unenumerated rights" jurisprudence (e.g. the right to privacy at issue in Griswold v. Connecticut and Roe v. Wade) was grounded in the text of the 14th amendment. Second, this definition provides no content to the idea that constructions must be "strict."
• Strict Construction as "Literalism". Another possibility is that strict construction involves literal rather than purposive interpretations of the constitutional text. Perhaps, a strict construction is one that reads each clause of the Constitution to mean what the plain language says and nothing more. This idea is more promising than textualism, because it gives some real bite to the idea of "strictness" in construction. The difficulty is that the proponents of "strict construction" (and others) have rarely advocated a thorough-going literalism. That approach would, for example, mean that the First Amendment to the Constitution applies only to Congress (and not to the states, the executive, or to common-law doctrines). Other provisions of the Constitution don't seem to have any determinate literal meaning--the due process clause, the privileges and immunities clause, and the republican form of government clause come to mind.
• Strict Construction as "Originalism". Yet another possibility is that strict construction refers to some form of originalism, either original-intention originalism or original-meaning originalism. (The former looks to the intentions of the framers, whereas the latter looks to the way the text would have been understood by citizens when it was adopted.) Original-intentions originalism does not fit well with the label "strict constructionism" as it would allow courts to take into account intentions of the framers that are not "strictly speaking" in the constitutional text. The latter is a much better fit with the idea of strict construction, but the label "strict construction" is simply not very descriptive of the idea that the constitutional text should be read today in a way that fits the way it would have been read at the time it was adopted.
• Strict Construction as a "Presumption of Constitutionality". Yet another possibility is that the constitution should be construed against challenges to the constitutionality of legislation or executive action. The idea of a presumption in favor of the constitutionality of challenged action is certainly a coherent idea, but it is not clear why such a presumption should be called "strict construction." One might naturally assume that a strict construction of the constitution would invalidate government action that contravened the meaning of the constitutional text.
• Strict construction as narrow interpretation of delegated powers.  One final possibility is that a strict construction of the Constitution is one that narrowly construes Congress's delegated powers.

We could go on, but I think you will now see the point. It simply isn't clear what "strict construction" means. Once you actually give content to the idea of strict construction, then the label isn't particularly description and better names can be given to the view that strict construction could name. For this reason, most serious constitutional theorists avoid using the phrase "strict construction." If you think you have a good reason to continue using this phrase, you might give serious consideration to offering a very careful definition when you first introduce the term.

I want to add one important qualification to this discussion.  It is entirely possible that "strict construction" once had a coherent meaning that has been "lost" with the passage of time.  If so, then "strict construction" may have an important role to play as a concept in constitutional history, and possibly, via that history, in contemporary theories of constitutional interpretation.

Judicial Activism

In conservative political discourse in the United States, "strict construction" is good and "judicial activism" is bad. But what is judicial activism? Once again, it is not clear that this phrase has any real meaning. The standard argument against the use of the term "judicial activism" is that it translates best as "judicial decision making with which I disagree." To see why this is so, once again let us consider the possible interpretations of the phrase:

• Judicial Activism as Nonabstention. One idea would be that activist judges decide cases, whereas passive judges abstain. This would make sense of "judicial activism," but it is completely unattractive as a normative ideal. Judges need to decide cases; they need to be active in the sense that they resolve controversies.
• Judicial Activism as Exercise of the Power of Judicial Review. A second possibility is that judicial activism means striking down statutes or invalidating executive action. A passive judge approves the conduct of the other branches of government; an active judge strikes such conduct down. Once again, this interpretation is coherent, but hardly anyone thinks that it is per se wrong for judges to invalidate unconstitutional governmental action. Very few critics of "judicial activism" would criticize a court that struck down a federal statute requiring every American to attend the services of a particular denomination. Nor would many critics of judicial activism endorse a judicial decision that upheld a law reestablishing slavery.  If "activism" means "exercising the power of judicial review to invalidate executive or legislative action," then it is a coherent concept, but it would seem to be "neutral" as between good and bad judging.
  
• Judicial Activism as Incorrect Exercise of the Power of Judicial Review. What is usually meant by judicial activism is not simply judicial activity or judicial activity invalidating action by the political branches. Rather, judicial activism means judicial activity that wrongfully invalidates action by the political branches. This naturally leads to the question, "What makes an exercise of the power of judicial review wrongful?" The answer to that question is a theory of constitutional interpretation. Different theories authorize different sets of invalidations. So, adherents of different constitutional theories would apply the label "judicial activism" to different sets of decisions.

And that's the problem with the phrase "judicial activism." One can define judicial activism in a way that doesn't boil down to "wrong," but those definitions make the phrase useless as a term of criticism. Or one can define judicial activism in such a way that it has real critical bite, but then the phrase ends up as a synonym for incorrect. Either way, "judicial activism" is not a useful term for constitutional theorists.

Conclusion

This post has had two goals. The first is to convince you that "strict construction" and "judicial activism" are simply not very useful as theory terms for academic constitutional lawyers. The second is to illustrate the importance of clear explication of constitutional concepts. Constitutional theory is a value-laden activity. Debates about positions in constitutional theory are frequently extensions of debates in moral and political theory generally. For that reason, it is very important for constitutional theorists to be very careful about their use of language.

Links

Chad Oldfather, Defining Judicial Inactivism: Models of Adjudication and the Duty to Decide

Keenan D. Kmiec, The Origin and Current Meanings of "Judicial Activism" (This article is essentially reading for anyone who intends to use the phrase in constitutional scholarship.)

Frank Cross & Stefanie Lindquist, The Scientific Study of Judicial Activism

(This entry was last revised on November 8, 2009.)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Textualism

Introduction

One of the most important topics in legal theory is “legal interpretation,” the theory of the derivation of meaning from legal texts. Of course, legal interpretation is a very large topic, with several different dimensions and approaches. This post will focus on “textualism,” and provide some introductory ideas about interpretive theory in general. As always, the Legal Theory Lexicon is designed for law students—especially first year law students—with an interest in legal theory.

Four Levels of Interpretive Theory

I find it helpful to separate out four different “levels” at which theories of legal interpretation can operate:

Level One: Meta Theories of Interpretation—One kind of theory examines questions like, “What does ‘interpretation’ mean?,” "What is interpretation?," and “How is ‘interpretation’ possible?”

Level Two: Semantic Theories of Interpretation--A second kind of theory aims at the recovery of the linguistic meaning (or "semantic content") of a text.

Level Three Normative Theories of Interpretation—A third kind of theory addresses the normative question, “What should legal interpretations (or constructions) aim at?” Among the answers to this question are: (a) the morally best reading of the legal text; (b) the intentions of the authors of the legal text, and (c) the plain meaning of the legal text.

Level Four: Methodological Theories of Interpretation—A fourth kind of theory aims to provide practical advice to legal actors (judges, lawyers, administrative officials, and citizens) about the techniques they can use to interpret various types of legal texts.

Textualism

Textualism, the subject of this post, can operate at the second, third, or fourth levels. That is, textualism could be the view that what legal texts really mean (as a "fact of the matter") is their plain meaning. Or textualism could be the view that legal interpreters ought to interpret legal texts to have their plain meaning, even if that is not their true or deep meaning according to the best semantic theory of interpretation. Or textualism could simply be a practical technique—a method that judges should employ. In this post, the primary focus will be on levels two and three—textualism as a semantic or normative theory—with some discussion of level four (textualism as practical methodology).

The Plain Meaning of the Text

Let’s begin with a basic question: what do we mean when we say “the plain meaning of the text.” A really good answer to that question would require us to develop a theory of meaning in general, but we must avoid that enterprise--at least for the purposes of this post. At one level, the idea of plain meaning is pretty simple. The plain meaning of a legal text is the meaning that would be understood by regular folks who knew that they were reading a statute (or court decision, etc.).

But this preliminary formulation is too simple. Some laws are meant for all citizens (e.g., criminal statutes) and some are meant only for specialists (e.g., some sections of the tax code). A text that means one thing in a legal context, might mean something else if it were in a technical manual or a novel. So the plain meaning of a legal text is something like the meaning that would be understood by competent speakers of the natural language in which the text was written who are within the intended readership of the text and who understand that the text is a legal text of a certain type.

An Excursion into Speakers Meaning and Sentence Meaning

Textualism can be illuminated by an excursion into what is sometimes called speech act theory, and in particular, by looking at the concepts of “speaker’s meaning” and “sentence meaning.”

Speaker’s Meaning and Sentence Meaning

This idea of plain meaning assumes a distinction that can be formulated in terms of the difference between speaker’s meaning and sentence meaning. The speaker’s meaning of a given utterance (or author’s meaning of a given text) is the meaning that the speaker intended the audience to glean for the utterance (or text). This involves a reflexive set of expectations. What does that mean? When I write a text, I understand that the reader know certain things about my having authored the text. When I try to communicate, I take these expectations into account in deciding how to use language to communicate a certain meaning. For example, if I know that my readers know that I know that they know a particular convention, then I can use that convention to communicate to them. (By the way, there are no typos in the prior sentence, all those “knows” are in there for a reason.)

So when I blog, I know that the readers of blogs assign a particular meaning to the word “post,” and I also know that my readers know that I know that they know this blogospheric convention. So I can use the term “post” to refer to blog entries with confidence that my readers will understand what I mean. On the other hand, if I were writing about blogging for an audience that had never encountered a blog, I would probably need to define the term “post,” before I used it, and if I used the term “post” without defining it, then my audience might believe I was referring to mail and not blog entries.

In other words, when someone speaks or writes for a particular audience on a particular occasion, the speaker or author can take into account what she knows about the audience, what the audience knows about her, but only insofar as the speaker knows that the audience knows what the speaker knows about the audience.

Speaker’s meaning can be distinguished from sentence meaning. Sentence meaning is the meaning that an utterance has when the audience is unaware of the speaker’s intentions. When we identify sentence meaning, it is as if we were imaging a sot of generic speaker, who uttered the sentence in a generic context. Or putting this a bit differently, sentence meaning is the meaning we would assign sentences when we know that the speaker or author can’t assume that we are aware of special conventions about meaning.

Legal Texts, Sentence Meaning, & Speaker’s Meaning

Legal texts are sometimes intended for a timeless, generic readership. The authors of legislation, for example, know that many different actors (judges, lawyers, administrative officials, and ordinary citizens) will read the statute for an extended period of time in a variety of different conditions. Many of these readers will not be able to afford access to analysis of the legislative history of the statute; they will simply read the statute itself. Of course, they will know that the text they are reading is a statute, and they will therefore have a fair amount of knowledge about the likely intended meaning of various terms and phrases. Moreover, the legislature knows that the readers of statutes will have this knowledge. So it might make sense to assume that the speaker’s meaning that should be assigned to a legal text is a special version of the sentence meaning of the text, e.g. legal sentence meaning.

The Case for Textualism

If we view textualism as a semantic theory of interpretation, the question we need to ask is whether the plain meaning is the linguistic meaning of the text.  There is no general answer to this question--it all depends on the nature of the text.  Texts that are directed to a particular audience on a particular occasion may have speaker's meaning.  But in general legal contexts that are directed to the public at large will have sentence meaning--that is, their meaning will be a function of the conventional semantic meaning of the text and not the intentions of a particular speaker.

But if we view textualism as a normative theory of interpretation, we need to ask to ask why interpreters of legal texts should aim for interpretations that yield that “plain meaning of the text.” The usual answer to this question is that plain meaning best serves the rule of law values of publicity, predictability, certainty, and stability of the law. One of the important rule of law values is publicity: the law should be accessible to ordinary citizens. Ordinary citizens are likely to interpret statutes to have their plain meaning, because ordinary folks rarely have the training to understand legislative history and even if they did have such training, it would simply be too costly to analyze the legislative history of statutes to determine their meaning.

Lawyers who counsel citizens and organizations do have the training to analyze legislative history, but can more easily and cheaply discern the plain meaning of a statute than some special meaning that only becomes clear once the legislative history is consulted. Moreover, analysis of legislative history can be quite complex, because some sources of legislative history (e.g. the statements of floor managers) are thought by some to be more reliable than others (e.g. the statements of opponents of a bill or of the author of a bill). Because of the complexity of statutory interpretation, lawyers are likely to disagree about the meaning of legislative history and to err when predicting how a court will interpret legislative history.

The same difficulties that afflict lawyers also plague judges. Moreover, most legal research done for federal judges is done by very young lawyers serving as law clerks. This group usually lacks experience in researching legislative history, and their performance is likely to be highly variable. Moreover, because legislative history will frequently contain many conflicting, ambiguous, and vague statements, it is possible that legislative history is easily subject to manipulation, giving judges the opportunity to support their own policy preferences with evidence of the “intentions of the legislature.”

Textualism as a Practical Methodology

Even if textualism does not provide the best semantic or normative theory of legal interpretation, it might be the case that textualism does provide the best practical method of interpretation given the capacities of real world judges and officials. Suppose that we want to interpret statutes to achieve the purposes of the legislature. At first blush, it might seem that the best way to do this would be to have courts and officials employ an intentionalist methodology, combing the legislative record for evidence of legislative intent. But as a practical matter, it may turn out that judges aren’t very good at doing this. So it might be the case that real-world judges are more likely to implement legislative purposes by employing a fairly simple plain-meaning approach as methodology for statutory interpretation. And to the extent that legislators know that judges will employ this approach, legislators could draft with the expectation that judges will use a plain-meaning methodology, which presumably would lead to even closer fit between the plain meaning and the achievement of legislative purpose.

Conclusion

“Textualism” is just one of many approaches to the theory of legal interpretation, but it is an especially good place to begin thinking about issues of interpretation in law. One of the very best ways to become a sophisticated thinker about these issues is to take a really good course in statutory interpretation. Not so long ago, statutory interpretation was considered a dead field, but today there is a tremendous flowering of interesting and exciting scholarship about the interpretation of statutes. I hope that this post has whetted your appetite!

Related Legal Theory Lexicon Entries

Legal Theory Lexicon 019: Originalism

Legal Theory Lexicon 022: Intention

Legal Theory Lexicon 043: Formalism and Instrumentalism

Legal Theory Lexicon 051: Vagueness and Ambiguity

Legal Theory Lexicon 063: Interpretation and Construction

References

John Manning, Textualism as a Nondelegation Doctrine

Lawrence B. Solum, Semantic Originalism

William Treanor, Against Textualism

Textualism, Wikipedia

Textualism, Encyclopedia of the United States Supreme Court, by Candidus Dougherty

(Last revised on October 4, 2009.)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Public and Private Goods

Introduction

One of the most powerful ideas that legal theory borrows from economics is the idea of a "public good." Sooner or later law students learn that within the framework of contemporary neoclassical economics, the standard line is that public goods (e.g. national security) should be provided by government whereas private goods (e.g., automobiles) ought to be provided by markets. For legal theorists, the line between public and private goods tracks one of the important fault lines in the law--between the private law fields of property, contract, tort, and so forth and public law fields such as environmental law, administrative law, and constitutional law. This post provides a basic introduction to the economic distinction between public and private goods for law students (especially first year law students) with an interest in legal theory.

It may be helpful to quickly preview the basic idea. So here goes:

• Public goods have two characteristics--nonrivalrousness and nonexcludability. For example, consumption of national defense is nonrivalrous (my being protected by the U.S. armed forces doesn't diminish your protection). National defense is a nonexcludable good: the Army cannot say to Mexico, "Solum hasn't paid his national defense bill, "Go ahead and attack him."
• Private goods are rivalrous and excludable. If I own a laptop computer, my use of it diminished your ability to use it; therefore, my consumption of the laptop rivals yours. Moreover, I can exclude you from the use of my laptop (by locking it up when I am not using it).

We use markets to provide goods like laptops (that excludable and rivalrous), but government provides goods like national defense (that are nonexcludable and nonrivalrous).

A Note on Terminology: "Public Goods" versus "Public Interest" versus "Public Resources."

Before we go any further, let's make sure we agree about how we are using the phrase "public good." This is important because the same phrase is used for different purposes in different contexts. So let's stipulate to the following:

• The phrase "public good" or "public goods" shall be used to refer to the economists’ idea of goods (in the broad sense that includes both "goods" and "services") that meet the criteria of nonrivalrousness and nonexcludability.
• The phrases "public interest" or "common good" shall be used to refer to the idea of goods that benefit the public at large as distinguished from goods or interests that benefit a faction (or "special interest group").
• The phrase "public resource" shall be used to refer to private goods that are owned by the government or held in trust for the public. National parks are indisputably public resources, but it may not be the case that they are public goods in the economic sense.

We could use the phrase "public good" to refer to the public interest or to public resources, but for the purposes of this post, let's stipulate that "public good" shall be reserved for the economic sense of the phrase.

The Criteria for Public Goods

There are two criteria by which public goods and distinguished from private goods. A good is public only if it is both nonrivalrous and nonexcludable. A good is private only if it is both rivalrous and excludable. (We will deal with the mixed cases in just a bit.)

"Rivalrousness" is a property of the consumption of a good. Consumption of a good is rivalrous if consumption by one individual X diminished the opportunity of other individuals, Y, Z, etc., to consume the good. Some goods are rivalrous because they are "used up." If I drink a glass of Heitz Martha's Vineyard, then you cannot drink that same glass of wine. If I set off a firecracker, you cannot set off the same firecracker. Other goods are rivalrous because of crowding effects. If I am using the free internet terminal at the student lounge, then you cannot use the same time slice of the terminal--because only one person can sit in front of the screen at the same time.

"Excludability" is also a property of consumption of a good. It is helpful to distinguish two forms of excludability: (1) excludability through self help, and (2) excludability through law. If I want to exclude you from my land, I can build a fence--the exclusion results from self help. But if I want to exclude you from copying a novel that I've written and I want to make the novel generally available for sale, self help will not work. (It would be ridiculously expensive to hire a guard to monitor each copy or every photocopy machine.) Government, however, can make unauthorized copying a criminal offense or actionable civil wrong, thereby creating exclusion through law.

Markets and Government

The conventional view is that markets should provide private goods and government should provide public goods. The case for market provision of private goods relies on the idea of Pareto efficiency. The weak Pareto Principle is the simple idea that if some action would make at least one person better off and no one worse off, then that action is good. If we have a private good, e.g. a widget, and a willing buyer and seller, then allowing the sale is Pareto efficient: the buyer prefers the widget to the money and the seller prefers the money to the widget. If we assume that the transaction has no external costs (harms to third parties), then allowing the transaction makes buyer and seller better off and hence is required by the weak Pareto principle.

But when we come to public goods, markets simply don't work. Why not? Most simply, because if a good is nonexcludable, then no one will pay for it. Suppose someone goes into the business of cleaning the air with a pollution removal machine. I won't voluntarily pay for this service, because I will be able to breathe the air even if I don't pay. If a private firm offered to defend me against foreign invaders, I won't voluntarily sign on. My individual payment would have a negligible effect on the size of the armed force. If others pay, I don't need to. If others don't pay, then my payment won't do any good. Of course, you will recognize that I am describing the free rider problem, a form of the Prisoner's Dilemma. Because markets cannot provide public goods, governments should.

As you might expect, the argument for government provision of public goods and market provision of private goods is controversial. Socialists argue that governments may do a better job of providing private goods, because government planning can create welfare benefits that cannot be realized by markets. Libertarian legal theorists argue that markets can provide most if not all private goods for various reasons, including arguments that nonexcludability can often be overcome by ingenious market solutions. I won't get into either the socialist or the libertarian critique of the argument for market provision of private goods and government provision of public goods, but you should know that these criticisms have been extensively developed.

The Expanded Typology: Public, Private, Toll, and Common Pool Goods

So far, we have been assuming that excludability and rivalrousness go together and hence that there are only two categories, public goods and private goods. In fact, it is possible to have a good that is rivalrous but nonexcludable or one that is nonrivalrous but excludable. So there are four categories, not two:

1. Public goods are nonrivalrous and nonexcludable.
2. Private goods are rivalrous and excludable.
3. Toll goods are nonrivalrous and excludable.
4. Common pool goods are rivalrous and nonexcludable.

Table One shows the four categories as a two-by-two matrix:

We've covered the first two categories, but we need to consider categories three and four. So let's do that now.

Toll Goods and Intellectual Property

A toll good is characterized by nonrivalrous consumption but excludability. Suppose we have a highway in a rural area, where the capacity of the highway would never be approached even if access were free. Nonetheless, use of the highway can be limited by the installation of toll booths. This means that we can charge for access to the highway. Economists call goods that are nonrivalrous but excludable "toll goods."

One of the most important applications of the concept of a toll good in legal theory arises in the context of intellectual property. A simplified version of the conventional story goes something like this. Without intellectual property rights created by law, the information (e.g. the invention or composition) would be a pure public good. In a world without intellectual property, for example, the first copy of a new book could be copied by the first purchasers. This copy could then be copied by others. Eventually, the "free" copies would dominate the market. And this would destroy the incentives of authors to write! (More on the question whether this is right towards the end of this post.)

Intellectual property law comes to the rescue. By enforcing patents and copyrights through legal sanctions, intellectual property law transforms information from a public good to a toll good. Intellectual property law creates excludability, but not rivalrousness. For more on this, see Water Wells and MP3 Files: The Economics of Intellectual Property.

Common Pool Goods and the "Tragedy of the Commons"

Common pool goods are rivalrous but non excludable. An example might be the fish resource in those portions of the ocean that are outside national waters (the high seas). This resource is rivalrous, because over fishing can result in a reduction of the stock of fish. But excludability is difficult to establish. Self-help would work for a localized fishing area where the fish population does not range over a large area; in theory a patrol boat could establish a virtual fence. But this solution won't work if the fish population ranges over a wide area of the high seas. Unless some international treaty regime can establish enforceable quotas, the result may be a "tragedy of the commons." Each fisher has an incentive to take the most she can, but the result of all fishers doing this is a depletion in the stock of fish that harms everyone. (Once again, we have a version of the Prisoner's Dilemma.)

Club Goods

We are almost done, but we have one or two more ideas to pick up. One is the idea of a "club good." A club good is a good where the utility of each individual's consumption of the good is a function of the number of others who consume the good. Take a golf course. If too many people try to use the course simultaneously, then the utility that each derives from the experience goes down. Golfers have to wait for tee times, the course is crowded, and so forth. In other words, there are "crowding" problems. One solution to such problems is to form a "club," which limits the number of persons with the right to use the golf course.

Private Goods and the "Tragedy of the Anticommons"

And finally, we should note the flip side of the tragedy of the commons, dubbed by Frank Michelman, "the tragedy of the anticommons." This refers to the phenomenon where ownership in a resource has been divided among so many owners that transaction costs and holdout problems prevent Pareto efficient transactions from occurring. For example, when property was "privatized" in the former Soviet Union, a single apartment building might end up with many, many fractional owners, including ownership interests by various government entities and the residents of the building. In theory, every owner must agree before a transaction involving the building could take place. Given the large number of owners, the costs of completing the transaction and paying off the holdouts (those who withhold consent in order to increase their share of the profits) can make the transaction economically unattractive. This is a case where the market is incapable of efficiently allocating a pure private good.

Conclusion

The public/private goods distinction is basic to a variety of topics in legal theory. Whenever you encounter a resource allocation problem, ask yourself, "Is this resource a public, private, toll, or common pool good?" And then ask, "Could a change in the legal rules governing this resource change its status?" Although the terminology may be daunting at first, they are really very simple and straightforward.

Related Lexicon Entries

Legal Theory Lexicon 060: Efficiency, Pareto, and Kaldor-Hicks

Legal Theory Lexicon 007: The Prisoners' Dilemma

Internet Resources

Public Goods, The New Palgrave (subscription required)

Public Good, Wikipedia

Public Goods and Externalities by Tyler Cowen, The Concise Encyclopedia of Ecomomics

Tragedy of the Anticommons, Wikipedia

(This post was last revised on September 7, 2009.)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Concepts and Conceptions

Introduction

Some ideas seem to be endlessly debated. We might all agree that "justice" is a good thing, but some of us think that justice boils down to counting the utility of each individual equally, while others think that justice is a matter of respecting basic human rights. Utilitarians might all agree that maximizing expected utility should be the aim of right action, but disagree about what "utility" is. Most torts theorists might agree that causation between an act of the defendant and harm to the plaintiff is an element most or all forms of tort liability, but disagree about what "causation" means. One of the niftiest tricks in legal theory is to handle cases like this with the concept/conception distinction. The "concept" of justice is the general idea, but different political theorists have different "conceptions" of justice. The concept of "utility" is shared by all utilitarians, but eudaimonistic utilitarianism maintains that the best conception of utility is happiness, while hedonistic utilitarianism holds that the best conception is pleasure.

This post provides an introduction to the concept/conception distinction for law students (especially first-year law students) with an interest in legal theory.

Essentially Contested Concepts

So far as I know, the concept/conception distinction originates with "Essentially Contested Concepts," a paper written by the philosopher William Gallie in 1956. The core of Gallie's argument was the idea that certain moral concepts are "essentially contested." "Good," "right," and "just," for example, are each moral concepts which seem to have a common or shared meaning. That is, when I say, that the alleviation of unnecessary suffering is good, you understand what I mean. But it may be that you and I differ on the criteria for the application of the term "good." You may think that a state of affairs is good to the extent that it produces pleasure or the absence of pain, while I may think that the criteria for "good" make reference to the conception of a flourishing human life, lived in accord with the virtues.

A quick aside.

Sometimes, when there is this sort of disagreement, we want to say, "Ah, you and I are referring to different concepts." If by "cause," you mean "legal cause," whereas I use "cause" as a synonym for "cause in fact," then we are using the same word to refer to two different concepts.

Back to "good."

But in the case of "good," we seem to be using the same concept. I think that the good really is human flourishing and not pleasure; you have the opposite opinion. So we are contesting the meaning of the concept "good," and each of us has a different conception of that concept.

Gallie thought that some concepts were essentially contested. That is, Gallie believed that some concepts were such that we would never reach agreement on the criteria for application of the concepts. If a concept is essentially contested, then it is in the nature of the concept that we disagree about the criteria for its application.

Two Uses of the Concept/Conception Distinction

Rawls on the Concept and Conceptions of Justice

Perhaps the most famous use of the concept/conception distinction is found in the political philosopher John Rawls's famous book, A Theory of Justice. Rawls appeals to the distinction between the concept of justice and particular conceptions of justice. His theory, justice as fairness, is defended as the best conception of justice. Notice that as used by Rawls, the concept/conception distinction does not imply that the concept of justice is essentially contested. It might be the case that we would eventually come to agreement on the criteria for a just society. In other words, not all contested concepts are essentially contested concepts.

Dworkin on Concepts and Conceptions in Legal Reasoning

Another well-known use of the concept/conception distinction is found in Ronald Dworkin's theory, law as integrity. You may know that Dworkin uses a hypothetical judge, Hercules, to illustrate his theory. Suppose that Hercules is interpreting the United States Constitution. He finds that the Equal Protection Clause of the Constitution makes reference to the concept of equality. In order to decide some case, about affirmative action say, Hercules must decide what equality means. To do this, Hercules will determine what conception of equality best fits and justifies our legal practices--narrowly, the equal protection clause cases but more broadly, the whole of American constitutional law. For Dworkin, "equality" is not an "essentially contested concept," because Dworkin does not take the position that there cannot be stable criteria for the meaning of concepts like equality. Rather, "equality" is an interpretive concept--a concept that is subject to interpretation. Interpretive concepts like equality are, in fact, contested, and may, in fact, always be contested, but this is not an "essential" (necessary) characteristic of interpretive concepts.

Conclusion

The law is full of contested concepts, and one of the jobs of legal theorists is to determine which conceptions of these concepts are the most defensible. Indeed, because contested concepts come up all the time, the concept/conception distinction is extremely useful as a tool for clarifying the nature of disagreements about what the law is and what it should be. When you next run into an idea like "justice," "equality," "utility," or "causation," ask yourself whether different conceptions of that concept are at work.

References

• Ronald Dworkin, Law's Empire (Harvard University Press 1988).
• W. B. Gallie, " Essentially Contested Concepts," 56 Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 167 (1956).
• John Rawls, A Theory of Justice ((Revised edition, Cambridge, Massachusetts: Belknap Press, 1999).

(This entry was last revised on September 20, 2009.)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Persons and Personhood

Introduction

Are the unborn human persons? What is the difference between legal and moral personhood? What does it mean to say that a corporation is a legal person? Do the most intelligent animals deserve the rights of moral or legal persons? These questions are likely to arise sooner or later for most law students. This entry in the Legal Theory Lexicon explores the idea of personhood, moral, legal, and human. As always, this post is intended as an introduction for law students (especially first-year law students) with an interest in legal theory.

Persons and Humans

The terms "human" and "person" have related meanings, but as used by most legal theorists, these terms are distinct. Here's one definition of "human":

a bipedal primate mammal (Homo sapiens)

And person is sometimes defined as a "human" or "individual". But "person" has another meaning, one that distinguishes the concept of person from the concept of human. Suppose, for example, an intelligent alien species were to arrive on Earth (or humans were to encounter them elsewhere). If the members of the aliens displayed evidence of human-like intelligence and could communicate with us (e.g. were able to master a human natural language, such as English), then we might be tempted to treat members of this species as morally and/or legally entitled to the same rights as humans.

Consider, for example, the aliens Chewbacca or Yoda in the Star Wars movies. Neither Chewbacca nor Yoda is a member of the species homo sapiens, yet both are treated as the moral and legal equivalents of humans in the Star Wars universe.

Let us stipulate then, that term "human" is a biological term, which refers to all the members of the species homo sapiens and that the term "person" is a normative (legal, moral, or ethical) term, which refers to a moral and/or legal status that creatures or other bearers of human-like capacities can share with normal adult humans.

The categories of human and person are involved in some of the most contentious debates in moral, political, and legal theory. Prime among these is the abortion debate. One move that can be made in the abortion debate is simply to deny the distinction between human and person. So it might be the case that the relevant moral and legal category is "human person" and that all members of the species homo sapiens members of this category. Or it might be argued that "human" and "person" are morally and legally distinction categories. If so, it is possible that "fetuses" are unborn humans, but that they are not yet "persons."

There is more to be said about terminology, but I will conclude with two observations.  Some of the debates about "persons" and "personhood" may reflect an ambiguity in the word "person."  But it is at least possible that one of the senses of person (roughly the moral sense) is a contested concept--that is, there may be competing conceptions of the concept person.  There is a Legal Theory Lexicon entry on the concept-conceptions distinction.

Legal, Moral, and Natural Persons

So far, I have been treating the category of personhood or persons as a single category, but this need not be the case. We can distinguish between three kinds of persons--natural, moral, and legal. It is possible that the not all legal persons are natural persons and vice versa; the category of moral persons is clearly distinct from that of legal persons, but might be considered identical with the category of natural persons.

Examples will help. Corporations and governmental units are legal persons--they have legal rights and responsibilities and can sue and be sued, but we do not say that corporations are natural or moral persons.  (Or more precisely, the claim that they are moral persons would be theoretically controversial.)  A corporation is not a natural person, because it is nonnatural in the relevant sense. Corporations are artificial or nonnatural because they are the creations of the law. Likewise, all humans are usually considered "natural persons," but not all humans have the full bundle of rights and responsibilities associated with legal persons. For example, infants and incompetents may be unable to sue in their own name and may not bear full legal responsibility for their acts.

Legal Personhood

The classical discussion of the idea of legal personhood is found in John Chipman Gray's The Nature and Sources of the Law. He began his famous discussion, "In books of the Law, as in other books, and in common speech, 'person' is often used as meaning a human being, but the technical legal meaning of a 'person' is a subject of legal rights and duties." The question whether an entity should be considered a legal person is reducible to other questions about whether or not the entity can and should be made the subject of a set of legal rights and duties. The particular bundle of rights and duties that accompanies legal personhood varies with the nature of the entity. Both corporations and natural persons are legal persons, but they have different sets of legal rights and duties. Nonetheless, legal personhood is usually accompanied by the right to own property and the capacity to sue and be sued.

Gray reminds us that inanimate things have possessed legal rights at various times. Temples in Rome and church buildings in the middle ages were regarded as the subject of legal rights. Ancient Greek law and common law have even made objects the subject of legal duties. In admiralty, a ship itself becomes the subject of a proceeding in rem and can be found "guilty." Christopher Stone recently recounted a twentieth-century Indian case in which counsel was appointed by an appellate court to represent a family idol in a dispute over who should have custody of it. The most familiar examples of legal persons that are not natural persons are business corporations and government entities.

Gray's discussion was critical of the notion that an inanimate thing might be considered a legal person. After all, what is the point of making a thing-- which can neither understand the law nor act on it--the subject of a legal duty? Moreover, he argued that even corporations are reducible to relations between the persons who own stock in them, manage them, and so forth. Thus, Gray insisted that calling a legal person a "person" involved a fiction unless the entity possessed "intelligence" and "will."

Can we say that corporations possess "intelligence" and "will"? The answer to that question is controversial among legal theorists. The orthodox position is that the corporation itself is a legal fiction; the humans who make up the corporation may have intelligence and will, but the corporation itself does not. But some might argue that the properties of the corporation are not reducible to the properties of the individuals who make up the corporation. Corporations may have "a mind of their own," at least according to some theorists.

Moral Personhood

"Legal personhood" is controversial, but "moral personhood" is one of the most contested ideas in contemporary legal, moral, and political theory. This large debate is not easy to summarize, but one of the crucial issues concerns the criteria for moral personhood. What attributes would make some life form (or even a robot) a moral person? Here are some of the possibilities:

Intelligence--One possibility is that the possession of "intelligence" (at some threshold level) is the criterion for moral personhood. Of course, "intelligence" itself is hardly a transparent concept.

Autonomy--Another idea is that persons must be capable of autonomy. But what is autonomy? One notion is that autonomous beings must be capable of second-order beliefs and motivations. That is, autonomy requires that one be able to have beliefs about one's beliefs and desires about one's desires.

Communication--Yet another possibility is that personhood requires the ability to communicate with others or to use language. On this criterion, it is possible that some higher primates might qualify for personhood--although the empirical evidence on primate use of human language is disputed.

Self-Awareness--Finally, some have argued that the criterion for moral personhood should be self-awareness or reflexive consciousness. To be a person, I must be aware of the my own consciousness.

This is not an exhaustive list of the criteria for moral personhood. Moreover, these criteria might be combined in various ways. For example, it might be argued that only an intelligent, autonomous, language-using, self-conscious being would be a full moral person.

Conclusion

"Personhood" is a fundamental notion for legal theorists. "Legal personhood" plays an important role in legal doctrine, and "moral personhood" plays a fundamental role in moral and political theory. The purpose of this post has been to give you a very rough sense of some of the issues that surround these concepts. More reading can be found in the bibliography.

Related Lexicon Entries

Legal Theory Lexicon 028: Concepts and Conceptions

Bibliography

• John Chipman Gray, The Nature and Sources of the Law (Roland Gray ed., MacMillan 1921)
• Lawrence B. Solum, Legal Personhood for Artificial Intelligences, 70 North Carolina Law Review 1233 (1992).
• Christopher Stone, Should Trees Have Standing?--Toward Legal Rights for Natural Objects, 45 S. CAL. L. REV. 450 (1972)
• Richard Tur, The 'Person' in Law in Persons and Personality: A Contemporary Inquiry (Arthur Peacocke & Grant Gillett eds., 1987)

(Last revised on September 12, 2009)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Rules, Standards, and Principles

Introduction

Early on in law school, law students begin to realize that legal norms are not all cut from the same cloth. Some rules provide "bright lines," others "fuzzy lines," and yet others, no lines at all. The "reasonable person" test in tort law constrains in a very different way than does the rule against perpetuities in property. That is, legal norms differ in extent to which they constrain those who are charged with applying them.

We can slice and dice legal norms in various ways. In this post, we will investigate the idea that legal norms can be sorted into three general classes: rules, standards, and principles. Let's stipulate to the following definitions to get the discussion off the ground:

Rules are the most constraining and rigid. Once a rule has been interpreted and the facts have been found, then the application of the rule to the facts decides the issue to which it is relevant.

Standards provide an intermediate level of constraint. Standards guide decisions but provide a greater range of choice or discretion; for example, a standard may provide a framework for balancing several factors.

Principles are even less constraining. Principles provide mandatory considerations for judges. Whereas, standards identify an exhaustive set of considerations for adjudication or policy making, a principle identifies a nonexhaustive set, leaving open the possibility that other considerations may be relevant to the decision.

This post provides an introduction to rules, standards, and principles for law students (especially first-year law students) with an interest in legal theory.

Rules

Although the phrase "legal rule" can be used in a broad sense, to refer to all legal norms, whether they be case in the form of a bright-line rule, a standard that is in the form of a balancing test, or even an abstract principle, there is also a narrower sense of "rule" that distinguishes rules from standards and principles.

Rules themselves vary--let's use hard and soft to refer to the poles of a continuum. A rule is harder if both the conditions for its application and the consequences that follow are defined by bright-line distinctions that admit of easy application. The rule that disqualifies persons who are not 35 years of age from eligibility for the Presidency of the United States is quite hard or rigid. Rules become softer as they criterion for the application and/or the consequences to which they lead become fuzzier. If the constitution had limited the presidency to "adults," then there could have been cases in which the question whether a particular candidate was unclear. Twelve-year olds are clearly not adults but twenty-five year olds clearly are. In between, the necessity of drawing a somewhat arbitrary line makes the "adult" rule relatively softer than the "35-year old" rule.

Standards

Standards are less constraining than even "soft" rules. Whereas a rule defines a triggering condition and a consequence, a standard may define a set of relevant considerations and options. One familiar example of a standard is provided by the fairness component of the International Shoe test for personal jurisdiction. That test requires a court to find that a state's assertion of personal jurisdiction violates the Due Process Clause on the basis of a give factor balancing test, which refers to the defendant's interest, the plaintiff's interest, the interest of the forum, judicial efficiency and economy, and substantive policy concerns.

Like rules, standards themselves vary in their capacity to guide and constrain the decision-making process. Some standards give the decision maker substantial guidance, by specifying relatively specific and concrete factors the decision maker should consider and the relative weight or importance of those factors. Other standards are much more open ended, requiring consideration of factors that are general and abstract. Standards that refer to "all the circumstances," "the interests of justice," or "equitable considerations" are particularly soft. Standards that require the evaluation of "cost to the defendant" or "serious invasions of privacy" are relatively harder, providing greater constraint and guidance.

By way of illustration, consider eligibility for the presidency once again. A rule based approach might limit eligibility to persons of a certain age or to "adults." A standard might specify that the only persons who are "sufficiently mature" may occupy the office of President. This standard is relatively open-ended, and it might disqualify some sixty-year olds from the presidency but allow some 20 year olds to serve.

Principles

Principles are quite different from both rules and standards--at least on the basis of the definitions that we are using. Both rules and standards provide a framework that is, in theory, sufficient for resolving a particular issue in a legal dispute. But as we are using the term, a "principle" only provides guidance for the interpretation or application of a rule or standard. Principles by themselves do not resolve legal issues.

This sense of principle is illustrated by Ronald Dworkin's example of the principle that no one should be allowed to profit from their own wrong, drawn from the case of Riggs v. Palmer, 22 N.E. 188 (N.Y. 1889). In that case, the statute of wills would have allowed a murderer to inherit from his victim, but the New York Court of Appeals concluded that the statute should be given an equitable interpretation in light of the common law principle against wrong doers profiting from their wrongs. This principle is not a rule: the law does permit wrong doers to profit from their wrongs in a variety of circumstances. Rather, this general and abstract principle provided guidance in the interpretation and construction of a rule--in Riggs, the rule provided by the statute of wills. (This example is drawn from Ronald Dworkin's famous essay Hard Cases.)

The Pros and Cons of Rules, Standards, and Principles

What are the pros and cons of rules, standards, and principles? When you have identified a candidate legal norm, when should you argue that the norm should be formulated as a rule, a standard, or a principle? In his famous 1985 article, Pierre Schlag provided this example:

In one torts casebook, for instance, Oliver Wendell Holmes and Benjamin Cardozo find themselves on opposite sides of a railroad crossing dispute. They disagree about what standard of conduct should define the obligations of a driver who comes to an unguarded railroad crossing. Holmes offers a rule: The driver must stop and look. Cardozo rejects the rule and instead offers a standard: The driver must act with reasonable caution. Which is the preferable approach? Holmes suggests that the requirements of due care at railroad crossings are clear and, therefore, it is appropriate to crystallize these obligations into a simple rule of law. Cardozo counters with scenarios in which it would be neither wise nor prudent for a driver to stop and look. Holmes might well have answered that Cardozo's scenarios are exceptions and that exceptions prove the rule. Indeed, Holmes might have parried by suggesting that the definition of a standard of conduct by means of a legal rule is predictable and certain, whereas standards and juries are not. This dispute could go on for quite some time.

Here are some basic ideas about the appropriateness of rules, standards, and principles:

Predictability and certainty. If your goal is ex ante predictability and certainty, then rules are usually the way to go. Predictability and certainty are particularly important when the law seeks to guide future conduct. For example, if we want to deter particular forms of conduct, we may do better to define the conduct in a rule (or in a set of rules) that would enable those who engage in the conduct to clearly see that the proscribed conduct is forbidden. Standards provide less guidance, and principles, almost no guidance at all.

Fairness and sensitivity. On the other hand, if our goal is to insure ex post fairness, then standards may be the way to go. Standards permit flexibility and the consideration of mitigating circumstances. Rigid rules are likely to lead to unfairness in particular cases, because it may be difficult to define in advance all of the circumstances which should count as exceptions to the rule.

The job of principles. Principles seem best suited for another sort of legal task. Principles cut across doctrinal fields. The same principle--one may not benefit from one's own wrong, for example--may apply in torts, contracts, and the law of wills. Thus, principles are particularly well suited to give legal form to concerns which operate in a wide variety of particular contexts.

Conclusion

Legal theorists need to be able to identify rules, standards, and principles, and more importantly, to be able to argue the pros and cons of formulating legal norms in these standard forms. The main goal of this post has been to enable you to distinguish a rule from a standard and to see that principles operate in a different way than either rules or principles. I also hope that the post has provided you with some tools that will enable you to make arguments like: “this rule would better be reformulated as a standard, because . . ." And arguments, like, “that legal norm really isn't a standard at all, it is better described as a principle.” I've provided some additional references, for those who want to pursue these ideas further.

Related Lexicon Entries

Legal Theory Lexicon 001: Ex Ante/Ex Post

Legal Theory Lexicon 017: The Rule of Law

Legal Theory Lexicon 024: Balancing Tests

Legal Theory Lexicon 043: Formalism and Instrumentalism

References

Baird & Weisberg, Rules, Standards, and the Battle of the Forms: A Reassessment of § 2-207, 68 Virginia Law Review 1217 (1982).

Ronald Dworkin, Hard Cases in Taking Rights Seriously (1977).

Herbert Hart & Albert Sacks, The Legal Process (unpublished manuscript tent. ed. 1958).

Duncan Kennedy, Form and Substance in Private Law Adjudication, 89 Harvard Law Review 1685 (1976).

Pierre J. Schlag, Rules and Standards, 33 UCLA L. Rev. 379 (1985).

(This entry was last modified on September 6, 2009.)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Social Welfare Functions

Introduction

One of the key ideas in contemporary economic theory in general and law and economics in particular is the social welfare function. Law students without a background in economics might be put off by the fact that social welfare functions are expressed in mathematical notation, but there is no reason to be intimidated. The basic ideas are easily grasped and the mathematical notation can be mastered in just a few minutes. This post provided an introduction to the idea of the social welfare function for law students, especially first year law students, with an interest in legal theory. Here we go!

Background

Normative Economics

The idea of a social welfare function is part of normative economics. There are several plausible formulations of normative economics, but almost all of normative economics begins with the fundamental idea of utility as a conception or measure of the good. Economists may disagree about the nature of utility, the relationship of utility to social welfare, and the role of welfare in public policy, but most (if not all) economists would assent to the abstract proposition that ceteris paribus more utility is a good thing. But this apparent agreement is at a very abstract and ambiguous level. There are many different ideas about what "utility" is.

Cardinal and Ordinal Interpretations of Utility

One key divide is between cardinal and ordinal interpretations of utility. An ordinal utility function for an individual consists of a rank ordering of possible states of affairs for that individual. An ordinal function tells us that individual i prefers possible world X to possible world Y, but it doesn't tell us whether X is much better than Y or only a little better.

A cardinal utility function yields a real-number value for each possible state of affairs. If we assume that utility functions yield values expressed in units of utility or utiles, then individual's utility function might score possible world P at 80 utiles and possible world Q at 120 utiles. We might represent the utility function U of individual i for P and Q as follows:

Ui(P) = 80

Ui(Q) = 120

The distinction between cardinal and ordinal utilities is potentially important for utilitarianism, at least on certain interpretations. As a theory of evaluation, utilitarianism is the view that an action is the best action if and only if the action maximizes utility when compared with all possible alternative actions. For technical reasons, utilitarianism requires both cardinality and full interpersonal comparability. This point about utilitarianism is closely related to the history of welfare economics, the explicitly normative branch of economic theory.

Measurement Problems

Both cardinality and interpersonal comparability pose measurement problems for economists. Even in the case of a single individual, it is difficult to reliability measure cardinal utilities. Measurements that support interpersonal comparisons are even more difficult to justify, and cardinal interpersonal comparisons seem to require the analyst (the person making the comparison) to make a variety of controversial value judgments. Market prices won't do as a proxy for utility, for a variety of reasons including wealth effects. The challenge for welfare economics was to develop a methodology that yields robust evaluations but does not require the use of cardinal interpersonally comparable utilities.

Pareto

This is the point at which Pareto arrives on the scene. Suppose that all the information we have about individual utilities is ordinal and non-interpersonally comparable. In other words, each individual can rank order states of affairs, but we (the analysts) cannot compare the rank orderings across persons. The weak Pareto principle suggests that possible world (state of affairs) P is socially preferable to possible world (state of affairs) Q, if everyone's ordinal ranking of P is higher than their ranking of Q. Weak Pareto doesn't get us very far, because such unanimity of preferences among all persons is rare. The strong Pareto principle suggests that possible world (state of affairs) P is socially preferable to possible world (state of affairs) Q, if at least one person ranks P higher than Q and no one ranks Q higher than P. Unlike weak Pareto, strong Pareto does permit some relatively robust conclusions.

The New Welfare Economics

The so-called new welfare economics was based on the insight that market transactions without uncompensated negative externalities satisfy strong Pareto. If the only difference between state P and state Q is that in P, individuals i1 and i2 engage in an exchange (money for widgets, chickens for shoes) where both prefer the result of the exchange, then the exchange is Pareto efficient. A state of affairs where no further Pareto efficient moves (or trades) are possible is called Pareto optimal. The assumption about externalities is, of course, crucial. If there are negative externalities of any sort, then the trade is not Pareto efficient.

Weak Pareto and the Arrow Impossibility Theorem

Weak Pareto plus ordinal utility information allows some social states (or possible worlds) to be ranked on the basis of everyone's preferences. A method for transforming individual utility information into such a social ranking is called a social welfare function. Kenneth Arrow's famous impossibility theorem demonstrates that it is impossible to construct a social utility function that can transform individual ordinal rankings into a social ranking in cases not covered by weak Pareto, if certain plausible assumptions are made. Arrow's theorem has spurred two lines of development in welfare economics. One line of development relaxes various assumptions that Arrow made; for example, we might relax Arrow's assumption that the social ranking must be transitive (if X is preferred to Y and Y is preferred to Z, then X must be preferred to Z). The other line of development considers the possibility of allowing information other than individual, noncomparable ordinal utilities. It is this second line of development that is relevant to the use of social welfare functions in contemporary law and economics.

Social Welfare Functions

Suppose that we allow full interpersonal comparability and cardinal utility information. This is sufficient to support what are called Bergson-Samuelson utility functions, which have the form:

W(x) = F (U1(x), U2(x), . . . UN(x))

Where

W(x) represents a real number social utility value for some state of affairs (or possible world) X,

F is some increasing function that yields a real number,

U1(x) is a cardinal, interpersonally comparable utility value yielded by some procedure for individual 1 for state of affairs X, and

N is the total number of individuals.

Bergson-Samuelson social welfare functions are named after Paul Samuelson and Avram Bergson.

What Are the Plausible Social Welfare Functions?

There are a variety of different possible functions that can be substituted for F. Here are some of the most important possibilities:

Classical-utilitarian SWF--We could substitute summation for F, and simply add the individual utility values; this is sometimes called a Benthamite or classical-utilitarian social welfare function famously associated with Jeremy Bentham. The classical utility social welfare function can be represented as follows:

W(x)={U1(x) + U2(x) + U(3(x) . . . Un(x)}

Average-utilitarian SWF--The classical SWF adds the utilities. This raises some very interesting issues when the different states of the world (x or y) have different population sizes. When deciding whether to add additional individuals, the classical-utilitarian SWF says more is better until we reach the point where adding more actually reduces the overall level of utility. One way to avoid this implication is use the average level of utility instead of the sum, as in the following formula:

W(s){[U1(x) + U2(x) + U(3(x) . . . Un(x)]/n}

In other words, we divide the sum of utilities by the number of individuals!

Bernoulli-Nash SWF--In the alternative, we could substitute the product function (¡Ç) and multiply individual utilities. This is sometimes called a Bernoulli-Nash social welfare function, which can be represented as follows:

W(x)={U1(x) * U2(x) * U(3(x) . . . Un(x)}

Rather than adding individual utilities, we multiply them! And yes, the "Nash" in Bernoulli-Nash is John Nash of "A Beautiful Mind" fame.

What About the Problem of Interpersonal Comparison?

Social welfare functions are much discussed in legal theory these days. One of the reasons for the contemporary debate over social welfare functions is that this approach has been championed by Louis Kaplow and Steven Shavell (both of the Harvard Law School). Their book, Welfare versus Fairness, has put the welfarist approach to normative economics "front and center."

One of the interesting theoretical questons about SWFs concerns the problem of interpersonal comparison. How do we get the values to plug into U1(x), U2(x), and so forth. That is, how do we compare up with a way of putting my utility and your utility on the same scale. As I understand the state of play, this is not a topic on which economists agree. Some economists believe that there is no objective way of producing interpersonally comparable cardinal utility values. But some economists believe that a third-party (the legal analyst or the economist) can do the job of assigning values to individual utilities.

Conclusion

We've barely begun to scratch the surface of the many interesting theoretical issues that attend the use of social welfare functions in legal theory. Some of those issues were explored in a prior Legal Theory Lexicon entry on Balancing Tests. Even if you have absolutely no background in economics, there is no reason to shy away from the debates about social welfare functions. The notation, although at first intimidating, is actually very simple. The foundational ideas, although sometimes articulated in the jargon of economic theory, really go to fundamental questions in moral theory. I hope this post has given you the tools to begin to discuss these ideas!

Related Lexicon Entries

Legal Theory Lexicon 008: Utilitarianism

Legal Theory Lexicon 060: Efficiency, Pareto, and Kaldor-Hicks

Links

Social welfare function, Wikipedia

Bibliography

Kenneth J. Arrow, Social Choice and Individual Values (2d ed. 1963)

Abram Bergson, A Reformulation of Certain Aspects of Welfare Economics, 52 Quarterly Jounal of Economics 310 (1938).

John C. Harsanyi, Interpersonal Utility Comparisons, 2 The New Palgrave: A Dictionary of Economics, 955 (1987).

Lawrence Solum, Public Legal Reason, 92 Virginia Law Review 1449 (2006).

Kotaro Suzumura, Social Welfare Function, 4 The New Palgrave: A Dictionary of Economics, v. 4, 418-20 (1987).

(This entry was last modified on August 30, 2009.)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Balancing Tests

Introduction

Balancing tests are ubiquitous in American law. From the Due Process Clause to the Freedom of Speech and from the federal joinder rules to personal jurisdiction, U.S. law makes the outcome of legal disputes dependent on the balancing of various interests and factors. Law students quickly become familiar with the idea of a balancing test, and moreover, are likely to quickly develop a cynical attitude about their constraining power. "So it's just subjective?"--is a question often asked in classroom discussion when a balancing test is announced. This post provides a rough and ready introduction to the theoretical issues raised by the notion of a "balancing test." As always, my intended audience consists of law students, especially first years, with an interest in legal theory.

Case-by-Case versus Systemic Balancing

The first distinction to master when thinking about balancing tests is that between case-by-case and systemic balancing. When a court adopts a case=by-case balancing test, the test is applied to each case, one case at a time. For example, in personal jurisdiction law, a case-by-case balancing test is used to determine whether assertions of personal jurisdiction are consistent with the Due Process Clause. But not all balancing is done on a case-by-case basis. For example, Mathews v. Eldridge announced a balancing test for determining whether pre-deprivation hearings are required by Due Process. This balancing test is applied to general categories (types) of deprivations. Once it has been determine that the balancing test does not require a hearing in category (e.g. Social Security disability benefit cases), the result is a categorical rule that can be applied to the category without further balancing.

There is, of course, an analogy between the difference between case-by-case versus systemic balancing and the difference between act and rule utilitarianism. Act utilitarianism makes the rightness of an action depend on the consequences of that individual action. Rule utilitarianism makes the rightness of an action depend on whether the action conforms to the system of rules that would produce the best consequences. This analogy points to a larger concept--the scope of decision problem. Many legal theories assume that the scope of decision is an individual action or case, whereas others look to individual legal rules and yet others look to types of rules.

Here is a nifty move, made famous by David Lyons (the legal philosopher who teaches at Boston University). Lyons argued that rule utilitarianism could be shown to be extensionally equivalent to act utilitarianism. His argument was beautifully simple. Take a rule and a particular action that would be required by act utilitarianism but forbidden by the utility maximizing rule. Now imagine an exception to the rule that would allow the utility maximizing action to be treated differently. The new rule-plus-exception produces more utility than the old rule. Hence rule utilitarianism requires the new rule. Lyons argued that we can iterate this move until rule utilitarianism and act utilitarianism require exactly the same results.

One more point about case-by-case versus systemic balancing. Both kinds of balancing can be done ex post (backwards looking) or ex ante forward looking. Take the Learned Hand balancing test for negligence. This test requires us to compare the cost of safety (ex post) against the benefits (ex post). This is ex post, case-by-case balancing. But when courts decide whether to issue an injunction, they sometimes "balance the equities," ex ante, asking whether the injuries done if the injunction does not issue will outweigh those that will result if the injunction is entered--in the future. Likewise, systemic balancing can be done either ex post or ex ante.

What is Balanced?

Yet another question that must be faced by any balancing test is "What is balanced?" Courts seem to think that just about any sort of interest or factor can be balanced. One kind of balancing test is represented by the International Shoe test for personal jurisdiction. This test balances interests--i.e. the interest of the plaintiff in the forum, the interest of the forum in the dispute, and so forth. Another kind of balancing test takes a variety of so-called factors into account: "prejudice to the defendant," "the impact on nonparties," and so forth in the case of tests for mandatory joinder. Properly speaking, such factors cannot really be balanced. Interests belong on the same scale--at least if they are the right kind of interests, but "factors" are usually considerations that bear in complex ways on a decision. The integration of multiple factors into a decision may involve balancing, but it also may involve reasoning that doesn’t actually weigh and compare commensurables.

The Commensurability Problem

This last point about balancing tests leads to a very fundamental idea in legal theory. Some approaches to moral theory make all ultimate values commensurable. In contemporary law and economics, for example, one approach reduces all value to preference-satisfaction, which then can be weighed via a Bergson-Samuelson social utility function. W(x) = F {U1(x), U2(x), . . UN(x)}, where F is some increasing function, U1 is the utility of state of affairs X for individual number 1, and so forth. Although some forms of consequentialism have the property of making all values commensurable, many moral theories do not have this property. Deontological ethics and virtue ethics, for example, generally are interpreted as maintaining that not all values are commensurable and hence as denying that balancing is even possible in some choice situations.

The commensurability problem also provides a nifty move for legal theorists. If someone proposes a balancing test, ask yourself if the things that it requires to be weighed are such that they really can be measured on the same scale. If not, then the proposed balancing test simply will not be able to do the work assigned to it.

Cost-Benefit Analysis 

The use of balancing tests is closely related to another idea in legal theory, "cost-benefit analysis."  Whereas balancing tests are associated with judges and legal doctrine, the idea of "cost-benefit analysis" is usually associated with policymaking by legislatures and regulatory agencies.  Cost-benefit analysis requires that all of the good and bad consequences associated with a decision be reduced to monetary values & this requires information and analytic techniques that are rarely available to judges.  Whereas interest-balancing is holistic and intuitve, cost-benefit analysis requires calculation based on cost and benefit information.

Balancing Tests and the Rule of Law

Yet another issue concerning balancing tests is the fancy version of the law student's intuition that balancing tests are subjective. Justice Scalia, for example, has argued that balancing tests undermine the rule of law because of their subjectivity and elasticity. If we believe that the rule of law values--certainty and predictability of the law--are very great social goods, then we have a general reason to prefer categorical rules to balancing tests. On the other hand, some balancing tests may be actually be more predictable than some rules with respect to a particular problem. For example, a case could be made that the "purposeful availment" component of the International Shoe test for personal jurisdiction is more subjective than the multifactor balancing component of the Shoe test. Some rules are very fuzzy; some balancing tests are quite precise.

Conclusion

Balancing tests are so common in American law, that you might begin to take them for granted, but that would be a mistake. Almost every balancing test raises interesting issues of legal theory. I hope this post has provided you with the tools to begin asking those questions.

Related Lexicon Entries

Legal Theory Lexicon 008: Utilitarianism

Legal Theory Lexicon 026: Rules, Standards, and Principles

Legal Theory Lexicon 025: Social Welfare Functions

Legal Theory Lexicon 060: Efficiency, Pareto, and Kaldor-Hicks

Links

Balancing Test, Wikipedia.

Bibliography

James G. Wilson, Surveying The Forms Of Doctrine On The Bright Line-Balancing Test Continuum, 27 Ariz. St. L.J. 773 (1995).

T. Alexander Aleinikoff, Constitutional Law in the Age of Balancing, 96 YALE L.J. 943 (1987).

(Last modified on August , 2009.)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Procedural Justice

Introduction

Recently, the Legal Theory Lexicon provided a very general entry on the the topic of justice. The notion of justice can be analyzed in many ways, but one good place to start is with Aristotle. Aristotle divides the topic of justice into two main parts, corrective justice and distributive justice. Distributive justice concerns the division of shares in social benefits and burdens; thus, many questions of tax policy are questions of distributive justice. Corrective justice involves the rectification of injustice, and thus includes a variety of topics from criminal law, torts, and contracts, among many others. Supplementing Aristotle's account, let us say that "procedural justice" is concerned with the means by which social groups (including governments, private institutions, and families) institutionalize the application of requirements of corrective and distributive justice to particular cases. This entry in the Lexicon provides an introduction to the idea of procedural justice for law students (especially first years) with an interest in legal theory.

Slicing a Cake

Our approach to the idea of procedural justice may be made easier by using a simple example. Consider the familiar procedure for dividing a cake: the person who slices the cake picks last. What makes this a fair procedure? One answer to this question might be the following: there is an independent criterion of what constitutes a fair outcome, equal slices for all, and the slicer-picks-last rule assures that we will get to this outcome. Slicer-picks-last is fair because guarantees accuracy. Or does it? If we really wanted to assure perfectly equal slices, then we could use a compass and the principles of plane geometry, with equal shares as a more reliable result. But this strikes us as an undue amount of fuss to go through when slicing a cake. Perhaps, the reason we believe that the slicer-picks-last rule is a fair procedure is that it strikes a fair balance between the importance of the outcome and the cost of getting there: the rule gets us close to equal shares most of the time at a reasonable price. Slicer-picks last might be considered fair, because does a good job of balancing. Or is there something more to the idea that the slicer-picks-last rule is fair? Maybe the reason we believe that the slicer gets a fair share is because the slicer was the one who did the cutting; the slicer's participation in the cutting validates the outcome, even if the slicer ends up with a smaller slice (or among the calorie conscious, a bigger slice). Slicer-picks-last could be a fair rule, because of process independently of outcome.

Perfect, Imperfect, and Pure Procedural Justice

These questions about the fairness of procedures for slicing a cake can be generalized by setting out a framework for analyzing the idea of procedural justice. In A Theory of Justice, John Rawls distinguishes three very general and abstract kinds of procedural justice: (1) perfect procedural justice, (2) imperfect procedural justice, and (3) pure procedural justice. Consider perfect procedural justice first. There are, he writes,

two characteristic features of perfect procedural justice. First, there is an independent criterion of what is a fair division, a criterion defined separately from and prior to the procedure which is to be followed. And second, it is possible to devise a procedure that is sure to give that desired outcome.

Rawls argues that our rule for the slicing of cakes is an example of perfect procedural justice. The person who slices picks last; Rawls believes that this procedure insures the equal division of shares. "Equal shares for each" is the independent criterion of a fair division; the slicer-picks-last rule is the procedure that reliably produces that outcome.
In the case of imperfect procedural justice, the first characteristic, an independent criterion for fairness of outcome, is present, but the second, a procedure that guarantees that outcome, is not. Rawls contends:

Imperfect procedural justice is exemplified by a criminal trial. The desired outcome is that the defendant should be declared guilty if and only if he has committed the offense with which he is charged. The trial procedure is framed to search for and to establish the truth in this regard. But it seems impossible to design the legal rules so that they always lead to the correct result. The theory of trials examines which procedures and rules of evidence, and the like, are best calculated to achieve this purpose consistent with the other ends of the law. Different arrangements for hearing cases may reasonably be expected in different circumstances to yield the right results, not always but at least most of the time.

Thus, imperfect procedural justice incorporates the notion of an independent criterion for accuracy but adds the notion of "other ends of the law," e.g., considerations of cost that may be balanced against accuracy. The final notion is "pure procedural justice." Rawls writes:

[P]ure procedural justice obtains when there is no independent criterion for the right result: instead there is a correct or fair procedure such that the outcome is likewise correct or fair, whatever it is, provided that the procedure has been properly followed. This situation is illustrated by gambling. If a number of persons engage in a series of fair bets, the distribution of cash after the last bet is fair, or at least not unfair, whatever this distribution is.

Pure procedural justice rejects an underlying assumption of both perfect and imperfect procedural justice--the assumption that there is an independent criterion for what constitutes the correct outcome. There are not criteria for the correct outcome except for an ideal (or actual) set of procedures.

Three Models of Procedural Justice: Accuracy, Balancing, and Participation

Rawls's theory provides an abstract framework that can be used to categorize theories of procedural justice, but it doesn't tell us what the content of a theory of procedural justice might be. Three approaches have been characteristic of thinking about procedural justice--one emphasizes accuracy, the second cost, and the third participation. Each of these three approaches can be expressed as simply model of procedural justice:

The Accuracy Model

We can begin with the utopian hypothesis that the current doctrine is structured by an implicit conception of perfect procedural justice?the accuracy model?corresponding to the idea of perfect procedural justice. The core idea of this model is that the aim of procedure is a search for truth?e.g. conclusions of law that are correct and findings of fact that are true.

But there are severe problems with the accuracy model. Given that civil procedure imposes real costs on litigants and society at large, it is difficult to argue that the smallest marginal gain in accuracy is worth the largest investment of resources. Justice has a price, and there is a point at which that price is not worth paying. Moreover, we have every reason to believe that accuracy is subject to the law of diminishing returns. If we were to make perfect accuracy our highest commitment, we would find that as we got closer and closer to our goal, the cost of reducing the marginal rate of error would become higher and higher. We will reach a point where society would be required to invest enormous resources for the most infinitesimal gain in accuracy.

The Balancing Model

The second model "the balancing model" corresponds to the idea of imperfect procedural justice. The consequentialist version of imperfect procedural justice finds substantial support in the decisions of the Supreme Court that interpret the Due Process Clauses of the United States Constitution. The most striking example is provided by the balancing test announced in Mathews v. Eldridge:

[O]ur prior decisions indicate that identification of the specific dictates of due process generally requires consideration of three distinct factors: First, the private interest that will be affected by the official action; second, the risk of an erroneous deprivation of such interest through the procedures used, and the probable value, if any, of additional or substitute procedural safeguards; and finally, the Government's interest, including the function involved and the fiscal and administrative burdens that the additional or substitute procedural requirement would entail.

Beginning with the emphasis on balancing in doctrine, we could construct a utilitarian conception of imperfect procedural justice. This effort is complicated, however, because there are many forms of utilitarianism; for our purposes, we might consider ideal rule utilitarianism, in which an act is right if and only if it is conformity with the system of rules, which if universally followed would produce the best consequences. Let us make a further simplifying assumption: that all of the relevant costs can be expressed as prices. The resultant approach will be roughly similar to some law and economics approaches.

Consider for example, Richard Posner's economic analysis of procedure. He writes, "The objective of a procedural system, viewed economically, is to minimize the sum of two costs. The first is "the cost of erroneous judicial decisions." The second type of cost is "the cost of operating the procedural system." Operating costs are borne by the public, in the form of subsidies to the judicial system and by the parties in the form of court fees, attorneys' fees, and litigation costs.

The Participation Model

The third model--the participation model?corresponds to the idea of pure procedural justice. The key notion is that it is it is participation in the process and not outcome that defines procedural justice. The second interpretation of the participation model connects the independent value of process with the dignity of those who are affected by legal proceedings. One way of articulating this central notion is that everyone is entitled to their day in court. This right to participation is justified by a background right of political morality, i.e. the right of persons (or citizens) to be treated with dignity and respect. A procedure which ensures parties an opportunity to participate in the process of making decisions that affect them might be counted as a just procedure for this reason, independently of the correctness of the outcome that results from the procedures.

On influential version of the participation model has been developed by Jerry Mashaw. Mashaw states the intuitive idea as follows:

At an intuitive level, a dignity approach is appealing. We all feel that process matters to us irrespective of result. This intuition may be a delusion. We may be so accustomed to rationalizing demands for improvement in our personal prospects, in the purportedly neutral terms of process fairness, that we can no longer distinguish between outcome-oriented motives and process-oriented arguments. * * * Yet there seems to be something to the intuition that process itself matters. We do distinguish between losing and being treated unfairly. And, however fuzzy our articulation of the process characteristics that yield a sense of unfairness, it is commonplace for us to describe process affronts as somehow related to disrespect for our individuality, to our not being taken seriously as persons.

In recent years, the question whether participation has value that is independent of outcomes has been enormously controversial. The participation model reflects the view that participation matters for reasons other than cost and accuracy. Most advocates of the balancing model deny that participation has independent value--other than a subjective taste for participation which can be weighed in a cost-benefit analysis.

Conclusion

Of course, procedural justice is a very large topic, and we have only begun to scratch the surface. Law students encounter ideas about procedural justice in a variety of courses: Civil Procedure, Criminal Procedure, and Administrative Law are among the classes in which procedural justice may become an important focus of discussion. I hope this Lexicon post gives you a lively sense of the basic structure of legal thinking about procedural justice.

Related Entries

Legal Theory Lexicon 018: Justice

Legal Theory Lexicon 024: Balancing Tests

Legal Theory Lexicon 049: Distributive Justice

Online Resource

Lawrence Solum, Procedural Justice (PDF)

Bibliography

• Robert Bone, Agreeing to Fair Process: The Problem with Contractarian Theories of Procedural Fairness, 83 B.U. L. REV. 485, 488-89 (2003).
• Mathews v. Eldrige, 424 U.S. 319 (1976).
• Jerry L. Mashaw, Due Process In The Administrative State (1985).
• Richard Posner, Economic Analysis Of Law (1992).
• John Rawls, A Theory Of Justice (1971)

(This entry was last revised on August 16, 2009.)

Legal Theory Lexicon: Intention

Introduction

Was it intentional? Did he intend to kill? What were the original intentions of the framers of the United States Constitution?

"Intention" is an important concept for legal theory. On the one hand, "intention" figures prominently in theories of criminal law and tort law. On the other hand, constitutional theory is interested in the idea of "the original intentions of the framers." This post provides a very rough and ready introduction to the idea of "intent" and related notions of "intentionality" for law students (especially first year law students) with an interest in legal theory.

A Note on Terminology

Legal theory is most concerned with "intentions" of the ordinary sort: "The defendant intended to kill" or "The Framers intended 'commerce' to exclude 'agriculture' in the commerce clause."--uses like these involve the ordinary legal use of "intention." There are, however, two related philosophical concepts that might be confused with this sense of intention. Philosophers use the word "intentionality" to refer to the ability of mental states to represent things, properties and states of affairs: in this special sense, the category of "intentional mental states" is very large--including perceptual mental states for example. And philosophers also have a more technical concept of "intensionality"--spelled with an "s" rather than a "t" after the second "n"--that is used to refer to an important logical feature of words and sentences. A sentence is an intensional context if its truth value is sensitive to the substitution of referentially equivalent descriptions: don't worry, the jargon will be explained!.  Ordinary intentions exhibit intentionality, intention sentences are intensional--hence the potential for confusion.

Actions Are Intended Under a Description

Jane hears a knock on the door and sees someone in the uniform of a package delivery company with a package. She invites the person in. She does not know that the person she has invited into her home is "the Westside rapist"--a serial rapist who disguises himself as a delivery person. If we ask her, did you intend to let "him" in, her answer will depend on the description we give. Did you intend to let the man in the delivery uniform in? Her answer will be "Yes." Did you intend to let the Westside rapist in? Her answer will be "No." The lesson of this example is that actions are intentional under a description. The very same individual was both "the man in the delivery uniform" and "the Westside rapist," but Jane's intentions were not the same with respect to the two different descriptions.

Transparent and Opaque Contexts

Actions are intentional under a description. Because of that fact, philosophers say that intention is a referentially opaque context. Boy, that is mouthful. What does that mean? Let's take a context that does not involve intentionality. The sentence "The Westside rapist entered Jane's house" does not involve an attribution of an intention. And we can substitute a different description for "Westside rapist" without affecting the truth value of the statement. Assuming that the Westside rapist did enter Jane's house and that his name was Norman Heathcliff, then all of the following statements would be true:

The Westside rapist entered Jane's house.--True. Norman Heathcliff entered Jane's house.--True. The man in the delivery uniform entered Jane's house.--True. The man on he porch entered Jane's house.--True.

We can substitute any description that refers to "Norman Heathcliff" and the truth value of the sentence is unaffected. A sentence that has this property is called "referentially transparent" or "an extensional context."

Now, let's go back to intention. Suppose that Jane lets the man into her house, but does not know that he is the Westside rapist or that he is named "Norman Heathcliff." Truth value now will vary depending on how the man is described :

Jane intended to let the man in the delivery uniform into her house.--True. Jane intended to let the Westside rapist into her house.--False. Jane intended to let Norman Heathcliff into her house.--False. Jane intended to let the man on the porch into her house.--True.

But the four descriptions all refer to the same man. Because you cannot substitute referentially equivalent descriptions into expressions of intentions, we say that such expressions are "referentially opaque" or that they are "intensional" contexts. (Notice again that intensional was spelled with an "s".)

The distinction between opaque and transparent contexts is fundamental to the philosophy of language, and this distinction figures prominently in philosophical writing about "intention." This may all sound a bit abstract, but this distinction is worth mastering. If you don't know it, you will not be able to follow any really sophisticated discussion about intention.

What difference does the distinction between referentially transparent and opaque contexts make to the law?  That's a big question, but here is one example. Some theories of constitutional or statutory interpretation assert that questions about the applicability of a legal rule can be settled by reference to the intentions of the authors of the statute. One line of attack on this view focuses on the question whether a collective body (e.g. a legislature or constitutional convention) has intentions in the same sense as does an individual. Putting that objection to the side, the distinction between opaque and transparent contexts can be used to build a different sort of objection. Suppose that we have only one legislator, Rex, and that Rex enacts a legal rule. Now a judge, Solomon, must apply the rule in a case where the meaning of the rule is either vague or ambiguous. Can Solomon simply apply the rule as Rex would intend? In some cases, the answer to this question may be "yes," but not in all. Why not? Because Rex may have intended the rule to apply to the case under some descriptions of the case, but not under others. Boy, that's abstract. Can you make your point more concrete?

Consider this example. The same Congress that enacted the 14th Amendment's equal protection clause also segregated the schools of the District of Columbia. Suppose that this Congress had the following two intentions: (1) Congress intended that the equal protection clause should prohibit discrimination on the basis of race, and (2) Congress intended that the equal protection clause should not prohibit segregation of the public schools. Now suppose that we believe a third thing: segregation of the public schools is discrimination on the basis of race. Given this situation, the "intentions of Congress" cannot directly settle a particular case, e.g. Brown v. Board of Education. Under one description, Congress would intend that the case should be decided for Brown; under another description, Congress would intend that the case should be decided for the Board. Both descriptions are true of the case.

Of course, I haven't developed this objection or the possible responses in a deep or thorough way. There is lots more to say. But the point is this. Legal rules are the product of intentional actions. Like all actions, lawmaking is intentional under a description. This means that statements about legislative intentions are referentially opaque. But when we apply a legal rule to a fact situation, we can describe the facts in many different ways. (A vast number of descriptions can refer to any particular legal dispute.) If intentions are to be used to as the basis for interpreting legal rules, it cannot be on the basis of a theory that says only, "Decide the case as the intentions of the lawmaker require." More will be required to make such a theory work.

Intention and Foreseeable Consequences

Does "intending an action" make a difference to either moral or legal responsibility? The distinction between intentional and unintentional action certainly seems to be important to both tort law and criminal law. Tort law differentiates between intentional torts and torts based on negligence or strict liability. Criminal law involves what is called mens rea or the "mental state" that is an element of the crime. In ordinary morality, we differentiate between intentional infliction of harm as more culpable than mere negligence.

Most law students encounter the problem of foreseeable but unintended consequences in both criminal law and torts. Consider the following examples:

--Example One: Ben has a gun. He aims at Alice and shoots, hoping to kill her. Her death was what he was trying to accomplish.
--Example Two: Carlos plants a bomb under the bridge. He wants to destroy the bridge, but he also knows that when he triggers the bomb Dawn is on the bridge right over the powerful bomb. Carlos regrets that Dawn died, and he had hoped that by some miracle Dawn would live.
--Example Three: Edgar is holding Francis and Gertrude captive. When Edgar's demands aren't met, he executes Francis. Edgar regrets that he had to do this, but he believes this is the only way that he will be able to intimidate Francis and Gertrude's employer into paying a ransom for Francis.
--Example Four: Harry shoots in the air on New Year's Eve. The bullet goes up and comes down, killing Ingrid. Harry did not intend to kill anyone, but he did recognize that there was a small risk that his bullet might strike and injure or kill.

In all four cases, we can say that one person killed another: Ben killed Alice, Carlos killed Dawn, Edgar killed Francis, and Harry killed Ingrid. But each case differs with respect to intentionality:

In example one, Ben intended to kill Alice and her death was his end.
In example two, Carlos intended to blow up the bridge and Dawn's death was a foreseen and very likely consequence of this intentional act, but Carlos did not directly intend to kill Dawn.
In example three, Edgar intended to kill Francis, but her death was a means to a further end--payment of the ransom.
In example four, Harry did not intend to kill Ingrid, but his intentional act foreseeably resulted in her death.

Are these cases alike or different? Morally or legally? Of course, those are big questions, but we can make a little progress on them. Cases one, two, and three are usually considered to be indistinguishable so far as culpability is concerned: in all three cases, the actor intends the death of the victim. Case four is usually considered to be distinguishable from cases one, two, and three: case four involves negligence which may be culpable but is not as blameworthy as intentional killing. Case two--where the Dawn's death is foreseen as highly likely but is not desired--is sometimes said to involve "oblique intention." Even though the death in case two was not directly intended, it is nonetheless the natural and foreseeable consequence of the intended action (blowing up the bridge while someone is on it).

Trolley Problems

In all four cases described above, the action that results in death is clearly wrongful. But that is not so clear in the famous "Trolley Problem"--first posed by Philippa Foot.  Here is a statement of the problem:

A trolley is running out of control down a track. In its path are 5 people who have been tied to the track by a mad philosopher. Fortunately, you can flip a switch which will lead the trolley down a different track. Unfortunately, there is a single person tied to that track. Should you flip the switch with the result that one will die instead of five?

Most philosophers agree that it is morally permissible to flip the switch. The philosopher and legal theorist John Mikhail has done a series of experiments that confirm that most ordinary people agree. If you pull the switch, you act intentionally and you cause the death of the one person. Now consider a second problem, "Organ Harvesting":

You are a surgeon performing elective surgery on a healthy person. Five other patients are on the verge of death, but could be saved if you killed your healthy patient and harvested her organs. Should you kill your patient?

Almost everyone (except perhaps some hard-core act utilitarians) agrees that killing the patient is morally impermissible. Both cases involve causing the death of one to save five. But in the "Trolley Problem," you do not directly intend the death; in the Trolley problem, you may hope that through some miracle the one person escapes death. In "Organ Harvesting," on the other hand, the surgeon must intend the patient's death. The organs can only be harvested if the patient is killed. Perhaps it is the intention to kill that makes the difference to our moral intuitions.

Our discussion of the Trolley Problem has been very brief and superficial. For more, you can follow this link. For our purposes, the point of the trolley problem is to suggest that intention is potentially important to questions of culpability.

Warning

As with many topics in the Lexicon, we have only skimmed the surface.  Experts on intentionality in philosophy and criminal law theory would surely disagree with some of what I have said and would have much more to say.

Conclusion

Every legal theorist needs a basic mastery of "intention." But this is a very deep topic. If you are drawn to the theory of criminal law or the theory of torts or to constitutional theory or statutory interpretation, you will want to know more about "intent." Hopefully, this entry will get you started.

Links

George Wilson, Action, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Alison McIntry, Doctrine of Double Effect, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Frances Howard-Snyder, Doing vs. Allowing Harm, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

(This entry was last revised on August 9, 2009.)