The Age of Creativity and Crime

Creativity and crime may seem worlds apart, yet they intersect and overlap in striking ways. While legal scholars have largely ignored the relationship between the two, this Article brings it to the forefront. It examines the legal implications of their connections, particularly for adolescents and emerging adults, who display heightened tendencies toward both.

In many instances, the line that separates creative acts from criminal ones is thin and arbitrary, drawn by the biases of decisionmakers such as police, prosecutors, and school administrators. Creative acts are mischaracterized as criminal ones. Creative expressions are used as evidence of one’s criminality or dangerousness. These mischaracterizations are generally harmful, but they cause particular harm for adolescents and emerging adults, who have developmental traits that increase their associations with crime and creativity, have a developmental need to engage in creativity, and are in a crucial developmental period of growing their creativity. That young people have their creativity criminalized imposes a distinct developmental harm.

These considerations underscore the need to apply an increasingly influential legal framework for young people called the developmental framework. Implementing this framework in a manner that protects and prioritizes young people’s creativity requires changes in the prosecution and punishment of crime, further dismantling of the school-to-prison pipeline, and increased opportunities for creativity. Making such changes will not only enhance young people’s well-being and reduce their risk of becoming entangled in the criminal system, but also pave the way for broader systemic reform for all.

Introduction

Creativity and crime may seem worlds apart, yet they intersect and overlap in striking ways. While legal scholars have largely ignored the relationship between the two, this Article brings it to the forefront. It examines the legal implications of their connections, particularly for

adolescents and emerging adults,1This group of young people—adolescents and emerging adults—generally includes those from the ages of ten to twenty-five years old and may even extend to the age of twenty-nine. Adolescence is now widely defined as including the period from age ten to the early-to-mid-twenties. Susan M. Sawyer, Peter S. Azzopardi, Dakshitha Wickremarathne & George C. Patton, The Age of Adolescence, 2 Lancet Child & adolescent health 223, 223 (2018) (defining adolescence as age ten to twenty-four); Amy Peykoff Hardin & Jesse M. Hackell, Age Limit of Pediatrics, Pediatrics, Sep. 2017, at 1, 1 (describing that the American Academy of Pediatrics generally identifies adolescence from age eleven to twenty-one). Developmental psychologist Laurence Steinberg labels the period from ten to twenty-five years old as adolescence, with the timeframe of nineteen to twenty-five years old distinguished as “late adolescence” or young adulthood. Laurence Steinberg, You and Your Adolescent: The Essential Guide for Ages 9, 10–25 (2011). Researchers also recognize the stage of emerging adults as those between eighteen to twenty-five, and for some, up to twenty-nine years old. Jewel Scott, Anandita Agarwala, Carissa M. Baker-Smith, Matthew J. Feinstein, Karen Jakubowski, Jill Kaar, Niyati Parekh & Kershaw V. Patel, Cardiovascular Health in the Transition from Adolescence to Emerging Adulthood: A Scientific Statement from the American Heart Association, J. Am. Heart Ass’n, Mar. 26, 2025, at 1, 2. Meanwhile, legal frameworks largely continue to define those under eighteen years old as children, with some recognizing the emerging adult stage as including those between the age of eighteen and twenty-five years old. Clare Ryan, The Law of Emerging Adults, 97 Wash. U. L. Rev. 1131, 1134–35 (2020). who display heightened tendencies toward both creativity and crime.2See infra Section I.B.

To begin, creativity is defined by the “two traditional components” of originality and usefulness.3James C. Kaufman & Vlad P. Glăveanu, An Overview of Creativity Theories, in Creativity: An Introduction 17, 17 (James C. Kaufman & Robert J. Sternberg eds., 2021) (noting the “strong consensus” that creativity consists of “something that is new and original . . . [and] task-appropriate”). For example, one study described creativity as “a blend of originality (newness, novelty) and usefulness (worthwhile, meaningful) as defined within a particular context.” Petrie J.A.C. van der Zanden, Paulien C. Meijer & Ronald A. Beghetto, A Review Study About Creativity in Adolescence: Where Is the Social Context?, Thinking Skills & Creativity, Aug. 2020, at 1, 2. Perhaps the most creative definition of creativity is “extra/ordinary, original and fitting, full-filling, in(ter)ventive, coopera-tive, un/conscious, fe< >male, re. . .creation.” Bayard D. Nielsen, Cynthia L. Pickett & Dean K. Simonton, Conceptual Versus Experimental Creativity: Which Works Best on Convergent and Divergent Thinking Tasks?, 2 Psych. Aesthetics, Creativity & Arts 131, 131 (2008) (alterations in original) (quoting Rob Pope, Creativity: Theory, History, Practice 52 (2005)). Even though it is technically a neutral trait—one that “can be applied in many different ways, some of which are benevolent and some of which are unethical and immoral”4Mark A. Runco, Creativity Has No Dark Side, in The Dark Side of Creativity 15, 15 (David H. Cropley et al. eds., 2010).—it is “universally” presented in a positive light.5David H. Cropley & Arthur J. Cropley, Creativity and Crime 95 (2013); Keith James & Aisha Taylor, Positive Creativity and Negative Creativity (and Unintended Consequences), in The Dark Side of Creativity, supra note 4, at 33, 33 (observing that “[v]irtually all existing empirical and theoretical work on creativity to this point . . . has either explicitly focused on or implicitly assumed only positive outcomes from creativity”). Unless otherwise noted, references to creativity in this Article refer to this positive and beneficial expression of creativity. The vast majority of scholarship and research about creativity lauds its beneficial effects on individuals, organizations, and society.6Cropley & Cropley, supra note 5, at 95.

It is no wonder then that creativity is so highly desired. The most popular TED Talk of all time—Do Schools Kill Creativity? by Sir Ken Robinson—has more than 79 million views.7The Most Popular TED Talks of All Time, TED, https://www.ted.com/playlists/171 [https://perma.cc/QQD7-PKHK]. In 2023, the World Economic Forum identified “[c]reative thinking” as the top skill that is increasing in importance for the future8Future of Jobs Report 2023: Insight Report, World Econ. F., May 2023, at 1, 38–39, https://www3.weforum.org/docs/WEF_Future_of_Jobs_2023.pdf [https://perma.cc/M8JR-GCGR]. and as, currently, the second most essential skill for workers.9Id. Over a decade before in 2010, IBM conducted a global survey of 1,500 CEOs across 33 industries in 60 countries and found that the highest number of respondents identified creativity as the most valuable leadership skill.10Samuel J. Palmisano, Capitalizing on Complexity: Insights from the Global Chief Executive Officer Study, IBM, May 2010, at 1, 8, https://www.ibm.com/downloads/cas/1VZV5X8J [https://perma.cc/J5HF-9RND]; Austin Carr, The Most Important Leadership Quality for CEOs? Creativity, Fast Co. (May 18, 2010), https://www.fastcompany.com/1648943/most-important-leadership-quality-ceos-creativity [https://perma.cc/7542-ZKPM].

Creativity spurs new ideas, promotes flexibility, and supports problem-solving and adaptation to new environments.11Mark A. Runco, Creativity: Theories and Themes: Research, Development, and Practice xii (2d ed. 2014). Also, while creativity is often associated with the arts, it extends far beyond them. Creativity can be implemented in everyday activities and environments through acts of “little-c” creativity.12Kaufman & Glăveanu, supra note 3, at 18. See generally Zorana Ivcevic & John D. Mayer, Mapping Dimensions of Creativity in the Life-Space, 21 Creativity Rsch. J. 152 (2009) (exploring how creativity manifests in daily life and everyday activities). After all, any thought, action, or work that is original and useful is, by definition, a creative one.13See supra note 3 and accompanying text. The lucky few are deemed to possess “Big-C” creativity, or eminent creativity, with some receiving this distinction posthumously.14Kaufman & Glăveanu, supra note 3, at 18. Big-C creativity refers to “clear-cut, eminent creative contributions,” and includes works that have won prestigious prizes and have a lasting impact on a field.15James C. Kaufman & Ronald A. Beghetto, Beyond Big and Little: The Four C Model of Creativity, 13 Rev. Gen. Psych. 1, 2, 6 (2009). Unless otherwise specified, this Article uses the term creativity to refer to this positive conception, encompassing both ordinary, everyday expressions of creativity and the more rarefied category of eminent, or Big-C, creativity.

Meanwhile, such descriptions and findings are rarely associated with crime or criminality. Unlike the plethora of sources that praise the positive effects of creativity and offer advice on how to cultivate it,16See, e.g., Emma Seppälä, How Senior Executives Find Time to Be Creative, Harv. Bus. Rev. (Sep. 14, 2016), https://hbr.org/2016/09/how-senior-executives-find-time-to-be-creative [https://perma.cc/A4NQ-9J24]; Ken Robinson & Lou Aronica, Creative Schools: The Grassroots Revolution That’s Transforming Education (2015); Scott D. Anthony, Paul Cobban, Natalie Painchaud & Andy Parker, Eat, Sleep, Innovate: How to Make Creativity an Everyday Habit Inside Your Organization (2020); Matthew A. Cronin & Jeffrey Loewenstein, The Craft of Creativity (2018). research on crime tends to focus on the opposite—how to reduce crime or how to decrease the likelihood that individuals will commit crimes or recidivate.17See, e.g., Brian Bell, Rui Costa & Stephen Machin, Why Does Education Reduce Crime?, 130 J. Pol. Econ. 732 (2022); Aaron Chalfin, Benjamin Hansen, Jason Lerner & Lucie Parker, Reducing Crime Through Environmental Design: Evidence from a Randomized Experiment of Street Lighting in New York City, 38 J. Quantitative Criminology 127 (2022); Gabrielle Beaudry, Rongqin Yu, Amanda E. Perry & Seena Fazel, Effectiveness of Psychological Interventions in Prison to Reduce Recidivism: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis of Randomised Controlled Trials, 8 Lancet Psychiatry 759 (2021); Edward J. Latessa, Shelley L. Johnson & Deborah Koetzle, What Works (and Doesn’t) in Reducing Recidivism (Routledge 2d ed.       2020) (2014). Crime is often associated with harm to individuals and society at large. One definition of crime provides that it is “the intentional commission of an act usually deemed socially harmful or dangerous and specifically defined, prohibited, and punishable under criminal law.”18David A. Thomas, Crime, Britannica (Feb. 6, 2026), https://www.britannica.com/topic/crime-law [https://perma.cc/2MWX-TPRE].

At first glance, creativity and crime may seem unrelated. By some measures, such as their perceived social value or associations, creativity and crime appear to be polar opposites. However, a deeper examination of the two reveals that they have much more in common than intuition or initial impressions may suggest.

First, at their core, both creativity and crime involve some form of deviance or departure “from the norm.”19Deviance, Dictionary.com, https://www.dictionary.com/browse/deviance [https://perma.cc/ERY6-MVF9]; Deviant, Dictionary.com, https://www.dictionary.com/browse/deviant [https://perma.cc/5WDJ-FY6E]; Deviance, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/deviance [https://perma.cc/SD6A-UJZU]; Deviant, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/deviant [https://perma.cc/V4WW-MGNF]. While other definitions of deviance may carry a negative connotation, the basic form of deviance is used here. See, e.g., Ross Coomber, Joseph F. Donnermeyer, Karen Mcelrath & John Scott, Key Concepts in Crime and Society 3 (Chris Rojek ed., 2017) (defining deviance as “an attitude or action which violates the norms, values, or beliefs of the mainstream”). Deviance that is praised is more likely to be characterized as a creative act, while deviance that is negative is more likely to be characterized as a crime. As one framework explains, creativity involves “constructive” deviance, while crime involves “destructive deviance.”20Cropley & Cropley, supra note 5, at 194. However, the line separating positive and constructive deviance from negative and destructive deviance often blurred and shifted over time.21See infra Section I.A and Part II. History is replete with examples—such as the theory that the earth is not the center of the universe—that were initially branded as destructive, harmful, and even criminal but were later recast as constructive, creative, and innovative.22Richard Brower & Jan M. Stahl, Crime and Creativity, in Encyclopedia of Creativity 318, 320 (Mark A. Runco & Steven R. Pritzker eds., 2d ed. 2011). Galileo Galilei, who helped spread astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus’s theory that the earth was not the center of the university, was criminalized for publicizing this theory. Id. Émile Durkheim, the “father figure of sociology,”23Wayne Morrison, What Is Crime? Contrasting Definitions and Perspectives, in Criminology 3, 4 (Chris Hale et al. eds, 3d ed. 2013). In the late 1800s, Émile Durkheim observed that crime is present in “all societies of all types” and that it is not only “inevitable,” but also “a factor in public health, an integrative element in any healthy society.” Émile Durkheim, The Rules of Sociological Method 98, 99 (Steven Lukes ed., W.D. Halls trans., 1982). His theory that criminal punishment serves a useful societal function of creating social cohesion is considered a foundational theory in criminal law. See, e.g., Sanford H. Kadish, Stephen J. Schulhofer & Rachel E. Barkow, Criminal Law And Its Processes: Cases And Materials 43–44 (11th ed. 2022). also observed the intermingling of the two. He wrote that for moral consciousness “to evolve, individual originality must be allowed to manifest itself. But so that the originality of the idealist who dreams of transcending [their] era may display itself, that of the criminal, which falls short of the age, must also be possible. One does not go without the other.”24Durkheim, supra note 23, at 101. In other words, those who fail to align with the prevailing standards of their time may be celebrated as visionaries or punished as criminals. In this sense, creativity and crime are not rigid opposites but fluid, interdependent forces that together help propel societal change.

The two are also linked by the shared traits of people who have a high tendency to engage in creative or criminal acts, such as those with an increased appetite for risk-taking.25See infra Section I.B. This overlap is especially pronounced during adolescence and emerging adulthood, a developmental period generally understood to span the ages of ten to twenty-five.26See supra note 1 and accompanying text. These individuals are referred to as “young people” throughout this Article.

Specifically, for crime, age is not only a “consistent predictor of crime,”27Jeffery T. Ulmer & Darrell Steffensmeier, The Age and Crime Relationship: Social Variation, Social Explanations, in The Nurture Versus Biosocial Debate in Criminology: On the Origins of Criminal Behavior and Criminality 377, 393 (Kevin M. Beaver et al. eds., 2015). but also its “strongest predictor.”28Maureen G. Mones & Virginia G. Clegg, Age, in The Encyclopedia of Criminology and Criminal Justice 34, 34 (Jay S. Albanese ed., 2014) (emphasis added). The age-crime curve, considered a “brute fact” of criminology,29Matt DeLisi, Age–Crime Curve and Criminal Career Patterns, in The Development of Criminal and Antisocial Behavior: Theory, Research and Practical Applications 51, 51 (Julien Morizot & Lila Kazemian eds., 2015). generally shows that crime begins “in adolescence, increases sharply to a peak in late adolescence or early adulthood, and then plummets toward zero for the rest of the life course.”30Id. Similarly, young people are highly inclined toward creativity—particularly certain forms called divergent thinking31Creativity tasks can be categorized into ones that require either divergent or convergent thinking. Nielsen et al., supra note 3, at 133. Divergent thinking is the “ability to generate a variety of associations to a word or solutions to a problem.” Sandra W. Russ & Jessica A. Dillon, Associative Theory, in Encyclopedia of Creativity, supra note 22, at 66, 66. It “allows for various answers that are correct.” Nielsen et al., supra note 3, at 133. Meanwhile, convergent thinking generally “brings together information focused on solving a problem, especially problems that have a single correct solution.” Id. and conceptual innovation32Another way to distinguish creativity is whether it leads to conceptual or experimental innovation. Bruce A. Weinberg & David W. Galenson, Creative Careers: The Life Cycles of Nobel Laureates in Economics, 167 De Economist 221, 221 (2019). Conceptual innovation refers to a form of innovation that relies primarily on abstract principles and out-of-the-box thinking. Id. Meanwhile, experimental innovation relies on inductive thinking, or knowledge that results from experience. Id. —and this developmental period is critical for cultivating creative capacity.33See infra Section II.B. Taken together, these age-linked patterns in crime and creativity point to a deeper connection between the two. As explained below, recent findings in developmental and neuroscience research shed light on this connection. When integrated into an emerging legal framework that prioritizes young people’s developmental well-being, these insights call for meaningful reforms in law and policy affecting young people.

First, recent developmental and neuroscience research makes clear that the overlap between creativity and crime among young people is not merely coincidental, but fundamentally developmental. Traits associated with adolescence and emerging adulthood, including increased risk-taking and nonconformity, can motivate both creative and criminal behavior.34See infra Section II.A.1. Young people’s maturing prefrontal cortex contributes to these developmental traits that are linked to both behaviors.35See infra Section II.A.2. Moreover, this period of flexibility and heightened neuroplasticity is a crucial time for fostering young people’s creativity, which itself is essential to healthy development.36See infra Section II.B.

Second, the developmental foundations of creativity and crime take on added significance when viewed through the lens of the developmental framework, an increasingly influential legal framework that applies to young people.37Elizabeth S. Scott, Criminal Responsibility in Adolescence: Lessons from Developmental Psychology, in Youth on Trial: A Developmental Perspective on Juvenile Justice 291, 299 (Thomas Grisso & Robert G. Schwartz eds., 2000) [hereinafter Scott, Criminal Responsibility] (using the phrase “developmental framework”); Elizabeth Scott, Thomas Grisso, Marsha Levick & Laurence Steinberg, Juvenile Sentencing Reform in a Constitutional Framework, 88 Temp. L. Rev. 675, 678 (2016) (same).

   Other terms refer to the same general idea, such as a “developmental approach” or “developmental jurisprudence.” See, e.g., Emily Buss, Kids Are Not So Different: The Path from Juvenile Exceptionalism to Prison Abolition, 89 U. Chi. L. Rev. 843, 843 (2022) (using “developmental approach”); Alexandra O. Cohen, Richard J. Bonnie, Kim Taylor-Thompson & BJ Casey, When Does a Juvenile Become an Adult? Implications for Law and Policy, 88 Temp. L. Rev. 769, 773 (2016) (same); Emily Buss, Developmental Jurisprudence, 88 Temp. L. Rev. 741, 741 (2016) (using “developmental jurisprudence”).

   Elizabeth Scott and Clare Huntington have incorporated this developmental framework as the first prong of the three-part “Child Wellbeing framework,” which they argue is, and should continue to be, the main framework that guides laws, policies, and regulations that impact children. Clare Huntington & Elizabeth S. Scott, Conceptualizing Legal Childhood in the Twenty-First Century, 118 Mich. L. Rev. 1371, 1377 (2020).

This Article will continue to rely on the term developmental framework since the arguments in this Article apply to both children (which includes adolescents) and emerging adults. The overall arguments in this Article, however, are consistent with the Child Wellbeing framework. In addition to focusing on the first part of the Child Wellbeing framework (in other words, the developmental framework), the arguments also address the remaining two parts of the Child Wellbeing framework but with a focus on adolescents and emerging adults: the (2) “convergence of adolescent [as well as emerging adults] wellbeing and social welfare” and (3) “recognition of the pernicious role of racial bias.” Id. at 1398. A framework that covers the wellbeing of both children (which includes adolescents) and emerging adults, such as a Young Person Wellbeing Framework, or one made specifically for emerging adults, such as an Emerging Adult Wellbeing Framework, should be articulated and analyzed in the near future.
This framework provides that laws, regulations, and policies that pertain to young people should be primarily guided by developmental and neuroscience research. Such research advances young people’s well-being while also promoting societal interests such as community well-being.38Huntington & Scott, supra note 37, at 1398.

While the developmental framework’s most visible impact has been in reshaping legal approaches to young people’s relationship to criminality,39Id. at 1436–38; Elizabeth S. Scott, Restating the Law in a Child Wellbeing Framework, 91 U. Chi. L. Rev. 279, 282 (2024). far less attention has been paid to how the framework should also account for their creativity. This Article argues that creativity should likewise be a core consideration in applying the developmental framework. Implementing a developmental framework that prioritizes young people’s creativity should drive significant changes in areas in which creativity and crime overlap and intersect, including criminal and juvenile delinquency prosecutions, punishment, and education. First, greater efforts are needed to identify and eliminate biases, especially racial and class biases, that shape whether acts are perceived as creative or criminal. Even in cases in which there is a clear divide between creativity and crime, such as violent malum in se crimes,40Malum in se means “a crime or an act that is inherently immoral, such as murder, arson, or rape.” Malum in Se, Black’s Law Dictionary (11th ed. 2019). biases can lead decisionmakers to misconstrue a young person’s creativity as proof of their dangerousness and likelihood of committing a crime. One striking example of this misclassification is the use of rap lyrics in criminal trials as evidence of their criminality or likelihood of having committed a criminal act. Although this practice has persisted for decades, it has recently garnered national attention through several high-profile events. These include the criminal prosecutions of rap artists Young Thug and Gunna.41Deena Zaru, Judge Rules Rap Lyrics Can ‘Conditionally’ Be Used As Evidence in Young Thug Trial, ABC News (Nov. 9, 2023, at 10:19 AM), https://abcnews.go.com/US/judge-rules-rap-lyrics-conditionally-evidence-young-thug/story?id=104760646 [https://perma.cc/9Y2N-N6T5]; Bill Donahue, Judge Rules Young Thug’s Lyrics Can Be Used in YSL RICO Case: ‘The First Amendment Is Not on Trial’, Billboard (Nov. 9, 2023), https://www.billboard.com/business/legal/young-thug-lyrics-can-be-used-ysl-rico-case-judge-ruling-1235467208 [https://perma.cc/QS67-GGP2]. The Protect Black Art movement42Deena Zaru, Ashan Singh, Tenzin Shakya & Sally Hawkins, ‘Protect Black Art’: How the Indictment of Young Thug and Gunna Sparked a Movement, ABC News (Oct. 15, 2022, at 12:39 PT), https://abcnews.go.com/US/protect-black-art-indictment-young-thug-gunna-sparked/story?id=91395434 [https://perma.cc/XV3E-SEUN]; see also infra Section III.A.4. and documentaries on this topic, including As We Speak that premiered at the 2024 Sundance Film Festival,43Jordan Mintzer, ‘As We Speak’ Review: A Revealing Exposé on the Criminalization of Rap Lyrics, Hollywood Rep. (Jan. 22, 2024, at 16:06 PT), https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-reviews/as-we-speak-review-hip-hop-lyrics-1235789411 [https://perma.cc/BJM9-5GVU]; Chris Vognar, ‘As We Speak’ Exposes the Racism Behind Criminalizing Rap Lyrics, Rolling Stone (Jan. 22, 2024), https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-reviews/as-we-speak-doc-rap-lyrics-criminalized-sundance-racism-kemba-1234951871 [https://perma.cc/9ERF-W8RW]. have spurred legislative efforts to limit the use of rap lyrics as evidence in criminal trials. This practice, along with attempts to either directly criminalize or associate criminality with other classic creative expressions like fashion and street art,44See infra Section II.A. speak to a larger problem of misconstruing creativity for crime or criminality, particularly against young people of color or lower classes. Recognizing, addressing, and removing such racial and class biases is essential.

Additionally, a developmental framework that prioritizes creativity also calls for significant changes in education. While education is critical for creativity, schools are currently not providing sufficient opportunities for it, as evidenced by the “creativity crisis” amongst our young people.45Kyung Hee Kim, The Creativity Challenge: How We Can Recapture American Innovation 13 (2016). Even more worrisome is the increased reliance on criminal processes and tools to control, monitor, discipline, and punish students, leading many schools to serve as pipelines to prison or model prison-like environments.46See infra Section IV.A. Dismantling the school-to-prison pipeline, preventing the mischaracterization of creativity as crimes or disciplinary offenses, and increasing opportunities for creativity will create a better educational environment. It will motivate young people to continue their education, which also reduces the risk that they will become entangled in the criminal system.47See infra Part IV. Creativity enables young people to engage in positive risk-taking,48Positive risk-taking is defined as risks that “carry potential costs that are mild in severity” and “are legal and socially acceptable.” Natasha Duell & Laurence Steinberg, Positive Risk Taking in Adolescence, 13 Child Dev. Persps. 48, 49 (2019). The authors recognized that the term socially acceptable can itself be controversial and here, defined it as actions that would generally be viewed as socially acceptable by adults. Id. thus reducing their urge to engage in negative risk-taking,49See infra notes 146–47 and accompanying text. such as harmful behavior that is clearly criminal.50See infra notes 206–09 and accompanying text.

This focus on the overlap of creativity and crime in young people is intentional but is not meant to be exclusionary. From the outset, it is very important to recognize this period of adolescence and emerging adulthood as a distinct one. Young people suffer distinct developmental harm when their creativity is criminalized or even discouraged to avoid associations with criminality. As developmental psychologist Laurence Steinberg observed, while change is possible in all people, the period between the ages of ten and twenty-five may very well be the “last significant window of opportunity” or final “real opportunity we have to put individuals on a healthy pathway and to expect our interventions to have substantial and enduring effects.”51Laurence Steinberg, Age of Opportunity: Lessons from the New Science of Adolescence 17 (2014). In other words, these changes can produce profound, long-lasting impacts that extend into the rest of young people’s lives.

However, this focus on young people and the developmental framework does not mean it is exclusionary. Rather, as with other meaningful changes in criminal law that have gained mainstream acceptance or evidence of their effectiveness through their initial implementation for youth,52Examples include restorative justice processes and a decarceration model. See, e.g., Lode Walgrave, Restoration in Youth Justice, 31 Crime & Just.: Rev. Rsch. 543, 565–71 (2004) (discussing restorative justice); Allegra M. McLeod, Decarceration Courts: Possibilities and Perils of a Shifting Criminal Law, 100 Geo. L.J. 1587, 1634 (2012) (discussing the decarceration model). one of the goals of this discussion is to pave the way for widespread changes. As a practical matter, this very population of adolescents and emerging adults make up the majority of those who commit crimes.53See infra Section I.C. Accordingly, policies and practices directed at this population can generate broader systemic change if they demonstrate their effectiveness and become widely adopted.

These arguments will be addressed in the following four Parts: Part I introduces the general ties between creativity and crime. It describes the conceptual connections that scholars have observed for centuries. It also highlights the commonalities in people with heightened associations with creativity and crime, focusing on young people. Part II then examines the developmental basis that helps explain young people’s strong connections to the two. This basis invites the application of the increasingly influential developmental framework, a legal framework that calls for developmental research to create, shape, and implement laws, policies, and regulations that affect young people. It contends that the developmental framework should prioritize young people’s creativity as it is both a manifestation of their development and integral to their development. The final two Parts apply this modified developmental framework in areas in which creativity and crime overlap and coexist. Part III focuses on the prosecution and punishment of crime and offenses, and Part IV addresses the educational environment. These normative proposals will better protect and foster young people’s creativity while minimizing their associations with crime and criminality. They will also pave the way for broader systemic reform.

I. The Ties Between Creativity and Crime

Creativity and crime overlap and intersect in meaningful ways. While each concept retains unique features, they also share a significant zone of overlap. This shared space consists of a common core of deviance, an essential role in driving societal progress, and a heightened manifestation in certain people, particularly young people.

A. General Similarities

Creativity and crime are conceptually linked. First, they share a common core of deviance.54See supra note 19. All creativity involves products that deviate from the norm, processes that also involve deviation—both in thought and action . . . .”55Cropley & Cropley, supra note 5, at 137 (emphasis added). Similarly, crime also involves deviance from established societal standards. Crime and deviance are often theorized together and defined in relation to one another.56See, e.g., David Downes, Paul Rock & Eugene McLaughlin, Understanding Deviance: A Guide to the Sociology of Crime and Rule-Breaking 1–20 (7th ed. 2016). For example, one definition of crime provides that it is “deviance which violates a law.”57Coomber et al., supra note 19, at 3. Deviance, here, is defined as “an attitude or action which violates the norms, values, or beliefs of the mainstream.” Id. It is then the type and form of deviance—constructive versus destructive;58Cropley & Cropley, supra note 5, at 150. beneficial versus harmful—that distinguish the two.

If we were to imagine these concepts along a “deviance” spectrum with creativity at one end and crime or criminality at the other, there would be certain acts of deviance for which it is self-evident whether the act is constructive or destructive, creative or criminal. For instance, acts that are classified as malum in se—“inherently immoral, such as murder, arson, or rape”59Malum in Se, Black’s Law Dictionary (11th ed. 2019).—are universally viewed as harmful, destructive, and criminal. The criminal and destructive nature of these acts persists even when they are accomplished in a “creative” manner, meaning in an original and useful way. Conversely, acts such as music, literature, art, or film generally fall on the creative end of the spectrum.

However, for other acts of deviance that fall in the middle of this spectrum, the distinction becomes less clear and determining whether an act should be labeled primarily as criminal or creative can be ambiguous and left primarily to the discretion of decisionmakers. Moreover, for certain acts, society’s characterization of the type of deviance (criminal or creative) can change drastically over time, reflecting society’s differing judgments.60Morrison, supra note 23, at 3–20. What was once considered criminal behavior may move closer to or fall squarely within the creative end of the spectrum, reflecting changing historical, cultural, and social views. This is especially evident when considering how both creativity and crime play an important role in societal progress and advancement.

That creativity is necessary for societal innovation and development is uncontroversial. Innovation itself means the “actual implementation and execution of creative ideas.”61Hannah Kremer, Isabel Villamor & Herman Aguinis, Innovation Leadership: Best-Practice Recommendations for Promoting Employee Creativity, Voice, and Knowledge Sharing, 62 Bus. Horizons 65, 66 (2019) (defining creativity as “the generation of novel and useful ideas or solutions to problems” and innovation as the “implementation” of these ideas); Sir Ken Robinson, Out of Our Minds: The Power of Being Creative 2 (3d ed. 2017) (defining creativity as “the process of developing original ideas that have value” and innovation as “the process of putting new ideas into practice”). As creativity scholar Arthur J. Cropley observed, societies around the world and throughout history highly regarded creativity as crucial for societal advancement.62Arthur J. Cropley, The Dark Side of Creativity: What Is It?, in The Dark Side of Creativity, supra note 4, at 1, 3. For instance, Chinese Emperor Han Wudi, whose empire lasted until 87 BCE, rewarded “innovative thinkers” with “high rank in the civil service.”63Id. Similarly, “founders of modern science” like Francis Bacon and René Descartes from the sixteenth and seventeenth century recognized the necessity of “scientific creativity” for societal progress.64Id.

A more provocative theory, however, is that crime also promotes societal progress. Yet this theory too dates back centuries. Durkheim observed in the nineteenth century that “crime itself may play a useful part in [the] evolution” of moral consciousness in a society.65Durkheim, supra note 23, at 102. “Not only does it imply that the way to necessary changes remains open, but in certain cases it also directly prepares for these changes.”66Id. Durkheim illustrated this point through Socrates, who, living under the applicable Athenian law, was “just[ly]” punished as a criminal for his “independence of thought.”67Id. However, over time, it became clear that Socrates’s “crime” was one of necessary creativity and innovation, proving “useful not only for humanity but for his country” as “[i]t served to prepare a way for a new morality and a new faith” for the Athenians.68Id. Similarly, Galileo Galilei was labeled a criminal in the sixteenth century for publishing and disseminating the theory that the earth was not the center of the universe.69Brower & Stahl, supra note 22, at 320. For these acts, he was placed under house arrest for approximately ten years until his death.70Id. Over time, however, the “criminal” characterization of these acts shifted and were later recognized as necessary creative and innovative contributions.

Events from the United States also support the theory that crime prompts societal progress and may later be recognized as innovative acts. The civil rights movement, which propelled the United States toward a more just and equal society, was sparked by acts that were criminalized at the time. In March 1955, a fifteen-year-old teenager named Claudette Colvin refused to give up her bus seat to White passengers. As a result, she was arrested, charged with “assault and battery, disorderly conduct and defying the segregation law,” and confined in an adult jail.71Radio Diaries: Before Rosa Parks, a Teenager Defied Segregation on an Alabama Bus (NPR, Mar. 2, 2015, at 18:13 ET), https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2015/02/27/389563788 [https://perma.cc/3W5B-FZ8Y]. While there had been similar incidents of Black individuals refusing to give up their seats before this incident—although it does not appear that Colvin was aware of them—“[w]hat was without precedent, though, is Colvin wanted to get a lawyer and she wanted to fight.”72Id. Yet while she sought to challenge the underlying laws,73Id. the leaders of the Black community chose to wait for another person who would be less controversial, given Colvin’s “mouthy, emotional and feisty” attitude and her eventual out-of-wedlock pregnancy.74Brooks Barnes, From Footnote to Fame in Civil Rights History, N.Y. Times (Nov. 25, 2009) (internal quotation marks omitted), https://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/26/books/26colvin.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20251102175906/https://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/26/books/26colvin.html]. This occurred nine months later when Rosa Parks—who, as secretary of the NAACP, was well aware of Colvin’s act—refused to give up her seat.75Id. That refusal officially initiated the Montgomery bus boycott, a “formative turning point of the twentieth century.”76Univ. N.C. Press, Daybreak of Freedom: The Montgomery Bus Boycott xi (Stewart Burns ed., 1997). Colvin, meanwhile, eventually joined a federal lawsuit as one of the four plaintiffs that ended the segregation of buses.77Browder v. Gayle, 142 F. Supp. 707 (M.D. Ala. 1956), aff’d, 352 U.S. 903 (1956) (per curiam); Browder v. Gayle (1956), Sup. Ct. Hist. Soc’y, https://civics.supremecourthistory.org/article/browder-v-gayle [https://perma.cc/4FZA-NPVN].

Similarly, on February 1, 1960, four college freshmen from Greensboro, North Carolina—“Ezell Blair, Jr. (now Jibreel Khazan), David Richmond, Franklin McCain and Joseph McNeil”—sat at a Woolworth counter designated for White patrons and attempted to order lunch.78February One: The Story of the Greensboro Four, PBS: Indep. Lens, https://www.pbs.org/independentlens/documentaries/februaryone [https://perma.cc/HC2V-NQNC]. They were denied service, heckled, and harassed, but refused to leave, even when the police arrived.79Id. The store manager eventually closed the store early to make everyone leave, including the “Greensboro Four.”80Nadra Kareem Nittle, How the Greensboro Four Sit-In Sparked a Movement, Hist. (Jan. 27, 2026), https://www.history.com/news/greensboro-four-sit-in-civil-rights [https://perma.cc/B9T9-G65K]. This highly publicized act inspired sit-ins across the South, with more than fifty students eventually arrested.81Id. The student-led activism that swept across the country was pivotal to the civil rights movement.82Id. These acts defied the laws and societal norms of segregation in the 1950s and 1960s.

While these acts were described widely at the time as crimes and disobedience, they are now better understood as creative and innovative acts—acts of originality that created substantial progress in society. These then-deviant acts challenged and helped dismantle the existing racial hierarchies in the United States. Consistent with Durkheim’s observations, they illustrate how creativity and crime coexist and how the characterization of certain acts may themselves morph from one to the other over time. The boundary that separates the two is fragile, movable, and at times, arbitrarily drawn.

Lastly, the ties between creativity and crime also appear in fundamental theories and frameworks about creativity such as the “four primary categories,” or 4Ps, of creativity—person, product, process, and press (environment).83The 4Ps “are focused on the way that an individual creates” and consist of “Person, Product, Process, and Press (i.e., environment).” Kaufman & Glăveanu, supra note 3, at 18. Each P corresponds to the following questions: “What type of person is creative? What is considered to be creative? How do we create? How does the environment shape creativity?” Id. Creativity scholars David H. Cropley and Arthur J. Cropley slightly revised the 4Ps to illustrate how there is much overlap in people engaging in benevolent forms of creativity, referred to as “creatives,” and malevolent forms of creativity, referred to as “resourceful criminals.” Both groups of people share similar processes, personal properties, personal motivations, and personal feelings.84Cropley & Cropley, supra note 5, at 150. For example, regarding their “personal properties,” both display “openness”; “flexibility”; “lack of inhibition”; and “non-conformity.”85Id. While the Cropleys acknowledged that meaningful differences exist between creativity and crime,86David H. Cropley and Arthur J. Cropley also noted differences between the two traits using the foundational 4P’s framework of creativity. For example, the “person” is different—those who engage in positive creativity have “high empathy,” while those who engage in criminal behavior have “low empathy.” Id. Regarding the product, positive creativity involves an end result that is “socially” and “morally responsible,” while crime involves a product that is “socially irresponsible” and “morally valueless.” Id. the two are not so distinct that they repel each other like oil and water. To the contrary, even if their similarities are often overshadowed by the largely positive field of creativity research, the study of their overlap is considered a well-established subfield of creativity.87Id. at 137 (citing research from the 1970s to 2000s). For example, “malevolent creativity” refers to deliberately creative acts that are intended to benefit the wrongdoers but harm or destroy others, such as terrorism, war, and abuse.88Id. at 15; David H. Cropley, James C. Kaufman & Arthur J. Cropley, Malevolent Creativity: A Functional Model of Creativity in Terrorism and Crime, 20 Creativity Rsch. J. 105, 106 (2008). “Creative crimes” are those in which individuals use novel means to “achieve statutorily prohibited goals.”89Cropley & Cropley, supra note 5, at 5. Also, creativity can facilitate or enhance criminal behavior, such as fraud or deceit.90Id. at 160.

Various scholars throughout the centuries have recognized the overlap between creativity and crime. They share a common core of deviance, play a necessary role in societal progress, and can shift from one to the other over time. History is replete with acts that were previously criminalized but later recharacterized as essential creative and innovative acts that advanced society. Creativity and crime coexist and overlap in meaningful ways.

B. The Overlap in Young People

Creativity and crime are also connected by the types of people who have a higher tendency to engage in creative acts and criminal acts. The similarities have led researchers to explore potential root causes or shared traits that prompt both types of behavior. For example, Hans J. Eysenck’s arousal theory posits that there is a “common biological origin” for creativity and criminality, claiming that individuals with low arousability have a need to engage in behavior that is “impulsive, risk-taking and sensation-seeking . . . in order to raise their arousal to a comfortable level.”91Id. at 154. Scholars have also independently observed that young people—adolescents and emerging adults—demonstrate heightened tendencies toward creativity and crime.

First, young people are strongly associated with crime and criminality. They are more likely to commit crimes than any other age group. For centuries, criminologists have recognized a correlation between adolescents and emerging adults, and criminal behavior.92Ulmer & Steffensmeier, supra note 27, at 377–78. Age—more so than any other factor such as gender, race, or ethnicity—has been identified as the “strongest”93Mones & Clegg, supra note 28, at 34. and most “consistent predictor”94Ulmer & Steffensmeier, supra note 27, at 393. of crime. Crime generally begins in one’s adolescence, “increases sharply to a peak in late adolescence or early adulthood,” and then falls “toward zero” for one’s remaining life.95DeLisi, supra note 29, at 51. The height of criminal activity takes place between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four.96Mones & Clegg, supra note 28, at 34. This phenomenon is captured by the age-crime curve, which has been described as a “brute fact” of criminology.97DeLisi, supra note 29, at 51.

These connections between crime and young people have been observed for nearly 200 years across different cultures. In the 1830s, Belgian astrologer, sociologist, and mathematician Adolphe Quetelet was the first to formally document this relationship between youthfulness and crime.98Ulmer & Steffensmeier, supra note 27, at 377. Modern crime statistics in the United States continue to support the persistence of the age-crime curve.99Elizabeth P. Shulman, Laurence D. Steinberg & Alex R. Piquero, The Age–Crime Curve in Adolescence and Early Adulthood Is Not Due to Age Differences in Economic Status, 42 J. Youth & Adolescence 848, 848–50, 854–56 (2013); Mones & Clegg, supra note 28, at 34; Ulmer & Steffensmeier, supra note 27, at 377–78. While there are secondary debates about this age-crime correlation, such as its causes100Ulmer & Steffensmeier, supra note 27, at 379–80. and slight variances in the data,101DeLisi, supra note 29, at 59; From Youth Justice Involvement to Young Adult Offending, Nat’l Inst. Just. (Mar. 10, 2014), https://nij.ojp.gov/topics/articles/youth-justice-involvement-young-adult-offending#reports [https://perma.cc/DWR5-JKTY]. the connection between youth and criminality is strong and widely accepted.

Young people are also strongly associated with creativity. Adolescents and emerging adults are noticeably adept at engaging in creative acts, particularly those involving divergent thinking and conceptual innovation. Moreover, this period of adolescence and emerging adulthood is crucial for developing creativity.

The age-distribution curve observed in criminal behavior is also present in certain creative fields. Researcher Satoshi Kanazawa found that the age distribution of renowned creative jazz musicians, painters, and authors—whom he referred to as “geniuses”—was very similar to the age-crime curve.102Satoshi Kanazawa, Why Productivity Fades with Age: The Crime–Genius Connection, 37 J. Rsch. Personality 257, 257–63 (2003). Both curves have a similar form—they rapidly rise during adolescence, peak in early adulthood, and then quickly decline by midlife.103Id. at 259–64. The “age–genius” curve, however, peaked later than the age-crime curve, likely due to the fact that the genius curve required “special talent” or responses to “evolutionarily novel stimuli and situations.”104Id. at 265–66. This correlation between two sets of data—“age and creativity/crime” and “marriage and creativity/crime”—suggests that creativity and criminality may be driven by the same underlying urge to “gain status and power in order to increase success” in producing offspring.105Cropley & Cropley, supra note 5, at 152–53. In addition to age, Satoshi Kanazawa also observed that marriage has a “strong desistance effect” on both crime and creative productivity. Id. at 153.

While Kanazawa’s study focused on young men, creativity researchers have found no evidence of gender differences in creativity tests.106R. Keith Sawyer & Danah Henriksen, Explaining Creativity: The Science of Human Innovation 69, 75 (3d ed. 2024). To the extent that there are observable differences in the real world, they are “due to environmental and interactional factors, such as gender discrimination in education and employment, and require an explanation at the sociocultural rather than the individual level.”107Id.

Recent research also found that the peak timeframe for conceptual innovation occurs during one’s youth. Economists Bruce A. Weinberg and David W. Galenson found that among Nobel Prize laureates in economics, “the probability of a single best year” for conceptual innovation “peak[ed] at age 24.8.”108Weinberg & Galenson, supra note 32, at 221, 237. This curve also peaks later than the age-crime curve and may be explained by the additional training that creativity requires. See, e.g., supra notes 102–05 and accompanying text. Conceptual innovators are those who “work deductively, applying abstract principles.”109Weinberg & Galenson, supra note 32, at 221. They “ ‘think outside the box,’ challenging conventional wisdom and . . . come up with new ideas suddenly.”110Jeff Grabmeier, Creativity Is Not Just for the Young, Study Finds, Ohio St. U.: Ohio St. News (Apr. 26, 2019), https://news.osu.edu/creativity-is-not-just-for-the-young-study-finds [https://perma.cc/L4LA-BK6U]. Meanwhile, “experimental innovators,” or those who “work inductively, accumulating knowledge from experience,” tended to be those in their mid-fifties.111Weinberg & Galenson, supra note 32, at 221.

Another study—the first to use an algorithmic approach to assess participants’ ability to “produce configurations of high algorithmic randomness”—found that those who had the highest ability to do so peaked at age twenty-five.112Nicolas Gauvrit, Hector Zenil, Fernando Soler-Toscano, Jean-Paul Delahaye & Peter Brugger, Human Behavioral Complexity Peaks at Age 25, PLOS Computational Biology, Apr. 13, 2017, at 1, 3; see also Jordana Cepelewicz, Our Ability to Keep ‘Em Guessing Peaks Around Age 25, Sci. Am. (Apr. 14, 2017), https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/our-ability-to-keep-em-guessing-peaks-around-age-251 [https://perma.cc/R478-M2VU]. Researchers here utilized a “continuous age range” and tested 3,400 individuals from ages 4 to 91.113Cepelewicz, supra note 112. This skill in creating and recognizing randomness is linked to higher creativity since creativity itself depends on “develop[ing] new approaches and test[ing] different outcomes.”114Id.

Moreover, while some creativity researchers maintain that creativity is a skill that can be developed throughout one’s lifespan, young people continue to show distinct ties to creativity. In addition to their strength in conceptual innovation and their ability to make random connections, they are also more prone to divergent thinking, defined as the “ability to generate a variety of associations to a word or solutions to a problem.”115Russ & Dillon, supra note 31, at 66. Divergent thinking is also viewed as a more reliable “measure[] of creative behavior.”116Kenneth J. Gilhooly & Mary L.M. Gilhooly, Aging and Creativity 72 (2021). Studies show a notable decline in divergent thinking starting in one’s thirties.117Id. Others identify this time period, particularly “[m]id-to late adolescence (15–20 years) and early adulthood (20–30 years),” as an “important time” for developing divergent thinking skills.118Janna Cousijn, P. Cédric M.P. Koolschijn, Kiki Zanolie, Sietske W. Kleibeuker & Eveline A. Crone, The Relation Between Gray Matter Morphology and Divergent Thinking in Adolescents and Young Adults, PLOS One, Dec. 16, 2014, at 1, 2. In general, this “period of increased potential for flexible thinking”119Sietske W. Kleibeuker, Claire E. Stevenson, Laura van der Aar, Sandy Overgaauw, Anna C. van Duijvenvoorde & Eveline A. Crone, Training in the Adolescent Brain: An fMRI Training Study on Divergent Thinking, 53 Developmental Psych. 353, 353 (2017). makes it an ideal period to foster creativity. The “interests, preferences, and leisure activities” that young people engage in during their childhood or adolescence are strong predictors of “later creative productivity.”120Karen D. Arnold, Rena F. Subotnik & Michael Ross, Longitudinal Studies, in Encyclopedia of Creativity, supra note 22, at 62, 64.

Furthermore, young people are more likely than other age groups to view themselves as creative. A recent survey of all generations found that those in the “Gen Z” generation (aged thirteen to twenty-three years) were the most likely to “consider themselves creative.”121Khrysgiana Pineda, Generation Create? Gen Z Might Be the Most Creative Generation Yet, Poll Says, USA Today (Aug. 18, 2020, at 13:52 ET), https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2020/08/18/generation-z-may-most-creative-yet-study-says/5589601002 [https://perma.cc/572P-SCY6]. More than half of those in that generation, or 56% of respondents, saw themselves as creative.122Id. In another study, researchers observed a growth in creative self-efficacy and creative personal identity for people during late adolescence and early adulthood, and a decline in older adults.123Maciej Karwowski, The Dynamics of Creative Self-Concept: Changes and Reciprocal Relations Between Creative Self-Efficacy and Creative Personal Identity, 28 Creativity Rsch. J. 99, 99, 103 (2016). This self-perception regarding one’s ability to be creative is important because “creative self-efficacy [has] well-established links to creativity.”124Kim van Broekhoven, David Cropley & Philipp Seegers, Differences in Creativity Across Art and STEM Students: We Are More Alike Than Unalike, Thinking Skills & Creativity, Aug. 13, 2020, at 1, 11.

Also, young people’s creativity is apparent in the real world. Stories permeate our culture of Big-C creatives who, during their adolescence or emerging adulthood, changed trajectories in the arts, technology, or daily life. For example, while deejaying his first block party in the Bronx, sixteen-year-old DJ Kool Herc (Clive Campbell) introduced a style of music that many now recognize as the birth of hip-hop.125DJ Kool Herc (Clive Campbell), Ask.HipHop: Hip Hop Hist. (June 24, 2019), https://history.hiphop/dj-kool [https://perma.cc/89VG-MGGX]. Beyoncé, Rihanna, and Taylor Swift each signed their first recording contracts at age fifteen.126Beyoncé, Britannica (Feb. 23, 2026), https://www.britannica.com/biography/Beyonce#ref937618 [https://perma.cc/M2JX-7NTW]; Beyoncé, Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beyonc%C3%A9 [https://perma.cc/UG5N-W7DA]; Rihanna, Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rihanna [https://perma.cc/GLR9-6B4L]; Taylor Swift, Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taylor_Swift [https://perma.cc/XG4V-EBZH]. Major tech companies like Facebook, Tumblr, and Bumble were all founded by nineteen-year-olds; Snapchat and Twitter were created by those in their early twenties.127Evan Spiegel was twenty-two years old when he founded Snapchat, and Jack Dorsey was twenty-three years old when he founded Twitter. Paige Leskin, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, and Jeff Bezos: Here’s How Old the Founders of 23 Tech Giants Were When They Started Their First Companies, Bus. Insider (Feb. 27, 2020, at 08:45 PT), https://www.businessinsider.com/ages-of-tech-founders-when-they-started-their-first-companies-2019-4 [https://web.archive.org/web/20251027210002/https://www.businessinsider.com/ages-of-tech-founders-when-they-started-their-first-companies-2019-4#tesla-founder-elon-musk-age-24-1]. At twenty-one years of age, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak co-founded Apple.128Apple’s Steve Jobs: An Extraordinary Career, Entrepreneur, https://www.entrepreneur.com/growing-a-business/who-was-steve-jobs-see-the-apple-founders-career-and-more/197538 [https://web.archive.org/web/20251027204842/https://www.entrepreneur.com/growing-a-business/who-was-steve-jobs-see-the-apple-founders-career-and-more/197538]; Sean Peek, Steve Jobs Biography, Bus. News Daily (Aug. 23, 2024), https://www.businessnewsdaily.com/4195-business-profile-steve-jobs.html [https://perma.cc/UTC7-UL4J]. Larry Page and Sergey Brin were twenty-five when they created Google.129Leskin, supra note 127. Even Galileo’s early scientific discoveries, such as the law of the pendulum, originated from his observations of a swinging lamp at a cathedral when he was just nineteen years old.130Brower & Stahl, supra note 22, at 320.

In summary, researchers have identified young people’s strong associations with creativity through an age-creativity curve, as well as an adeptness at conceptual innovation and divergent thinking. They have also identified this period of adolescence and emerging adulthood as a critical one for developing one’s creativity. Real-life examples of young people’s Big-C creative acts, as well as their elevated self-assessment of their creativity, provide further evidence of these strong associations. These ties are consistent with the long-established associations between young people and crime.

As the next Part explains, these heightened connections are not merely coincidental. Rather, they are largely developmental. Recognizing the underlying developmental basis for young people’s tendencies toward creativity and crime is significant because it invites the application of the developmental framework, an increasingly influential legal framework that prioritizes the development of young people in laws, policies, and regulations that affect them.

II. The Relevance of the Developmental Framework

The heightened associations between youthfulness and crime, and youthfulness and creativity, do not appear to be mere coincidences or random occurrences. Instead, recent research on young people’s developmental traits and brain development shows that this phenomenon is largely developmental. That developmental and neuroscience research explains the shared basis for creativity and crime in young people is itself noteworthy. However, this understanding takes on even greater significance in the present age as the growing influence of the developmental framework encourages

the incorporation of such findings into laws, regulations, and policies that impact young people.

This Part begins by explaining the developmental basis for young people’s strong associations with creativity and crime. It then explains how creativity is not only an expression of their development but also necessary for their healthy development. It then concludes by explaining the developmental framework, detailing both its origins and evolution, and arguing that creativity should be prioritized in this framework as it is vital for young people’s developmental well-being.

A. Developmental Basis for Creativity and Crime

The idea that creativity and crime may have a shared origin is not entirely new.131See supra notes 84–85, 89 and accompanying text. However, recent research sheds light on why young people in particular have stronger inclinations toward creativity and crime. Adolescents and emerging adults share a common developmental basis for their heightened connections to criminal and creative behavior. This consists of young people’s general developmental traits, including their brain development.

First, the stages of adolescence and emerging adulthood are marked by traits that are linked to both criminal and creative behavior, including increased risk-taking as well as nonconforming behavior, especially toward authority figures.132Steinberg, supra note 51, at 84. Risk-taking is “defined as involving actions taken when the consequences or probabilities of outcomes are unknown or only partially known.” Veena P. Prabhu, Risk-Taking, in Encyclopedia of Creativity, supra note 22, at 319, 319. Adolescents generally have “heightened sensation seeking and still-maturing impulse control, as well as a greater willingness to take risks.”133Steinberg, supra note 51, at 84. This is not limited to just American adolescents but applies to adolescents worldwide. Steinberg—whose research played a pivotal role in the Supreme Court’s landmark cases that ushered in the developmental framework for young people134See, e.g., Miller v. Alabama, 567 U.S. 460, 471 (2012); Roper v. Simmons, 543 U.S. 551, 569, 570, 573 (2005); infra Section II.C. —conducted a cross-national study of adolescents, including in the United States, “China, Colombia, Cyprus, India, Italy, Jordan, Kenya, the Philippines, Sweden, and Thailand.”135Steinberg, supra note 51, at 84. Steinberg found that all adolescents engaged in risky behavior and were developing their impulse control.136Id. However, the specific forms of risk-taking varied as “different countries [gave] young people differing levels of opportunity to try risky behaviors.”137Id. For instance, in Jordan, where access to alcohol is highly restricted, adolescent-drinking rates remained low, but other risky behavior that was more accessible, like smoking, rose sharply during adolescence.138Id. These findings suggest that while risky behavior may manifest in various ways, “the underlying inclinations that lead adolescents to take risks appear to be universal.”139Id.

Emerging adults are also more likely to engage in risky, nonconforming behavior. Until around age twenty-five, emerging adults are “still developing the capacity to rein in their impulses, emotions, and susceptibility to peers, which explains why so many risky behaviors—like crime, binge drinking, reckless driving, and unsafe sex—peak during this stage, and why so much of this risky behavior occurs in groups,”140Laurence Steinberg, You and Your Adult Child: How to Grow Together in Challenging Times 7 (2023). as they remain inclined to peer pressure.141Lael E.H. Chester, Ruth T. Shefner & Vincent Schiraldi, Emerging Adult Justice: America’s Recent Attempts to Apply Research to Policies and Practices, Crim. Just., Winter 2024, at 17, 17–18. The similarities between adolescence and emerging adulthood are so strong that Steinberg labeled the entire age range from ages ten to twenty-five as adolescence,142Steinberg, supra note 1, at 5, 17, 84. with the period from nineteen to twenty-five referred to as “late adolescence and the transition to adulthood” or “young adulthood.”143Id. at 9, 18. Many other scholars refer to the stage of eighteen to twenty-five years old as emerging adulthood.144See supra note 1 and accompanying text; Chester et al., supra note 141, at 17–18.

These developmental traits of heightened risk-taking and nonconforming behavior against authority contribute to both crime and creativity. When it comes to crime, researchers have observed that both adolescents and emerging adults are more likely to commit criminal acts due to their developmental traits, such as risk-taking and nonconformity.145Chester et al., supra note 141, at 17–18; Steinberg, supra note 140, at 7. Similarly, creativity also “involves taking chances and risks.”146Prabhu, supra note 132, at 319. In essence, “[r]isk taking is a distinguishing factor of creative individuals—they are not afraid of the unknown—in fact it is the unknown that arouses their curiosity.”147Id. at 322. Risk-taking and creativity “share a common domain of factors

that affect them,”148Id. at 319. including the traits of “open-minded[ness],” “curious[ity],” “courage,” “out-of-box thinking,” “attract[ion] to complexity,” and “non-conforming behavior.”149Id. at 320.

Second, young people’s brain development also helps to explain their inclinations toward creativity and crime. Neuroscience research shows that young people’s ongoing brain growth plays a critical role in shaping their developmental traits described above.150Steinberg, supra note 51, at 69–71. The prefrontal cortex, responsible for various executive functions like self-regulation and self-control,151Id. at 70. continues to develop until around age twenty-five.152Mariam Arain, Maliha Haque, Lina Johal, Puja Mathur, Wynand Nel, Afsha Rais, Ranbir Sandhu & Sushil Sharma, Maturation of the Adolescent Brain, 9 Neuropsychiatric Disease & Treatment 449, 451–54 (2013); Lael E.H. Chester & Rachel Barkin, New Responses Emerge on 18- to 25-Year Olds Who Commit Crimes, Imprint (Jan. 20, 2022, at 06:00 PT), https://imprintnews.org/opinion/new-responses-emerge-on-18-to-25-year-olds-who-commit-crimes/62074 [https://perma.cc/39ZT-3HDL].

Scholars and courts have explicitly recognized the underdeveloped prefrontal cortex as a reason why adolescents and emerging adults are more prone to criminal behavior than other age groups,153Arain et al., supra note 152, at 451–54; Chester & Barkin, supra note 152; Buss, supra note 37, at 742–43. thus making them less culpable for crimes and having a greater capacity for change.154See, e.g., Scott, Criminal Responsibility, supra note 37, at 292; Esther K. Hong, A Reexamination of the Parens Patriae Power, 88 Tenn. L. Rev. 277, 291–92 (2021).

Similarly, foundational research in creativity and neuroscience also reveals that creativity is associated with the suppression of the brain’s dorsolateral prefrontal cortex region,155Kylah Goodfellow Klinge, Mapping Creativity in the Brain, Atl. (Mar. 21, 2016), https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2016/03/the-driving-principles-behind-creativity/474621 [https://perma.cc/YWA9-A7C4]; Oshin Vartanian, Neuroscience of Creativity, in Creativity: An Introduction, supra note 3, at 84, 90–92. which is responsible for “planning, inhibition, and self-censorship.”156Klinge, supra note 155. While studies also show that brain activity for creativity involves multiple regions of the brain, this specific area in the prefrontal cortex continues to be associated with creative activity and thought.157Id.; see also Caroline Di Bernardi Luft, Ioanna Zioga, Michael J. Banissy & Joydeep Bhattacharya, Relaxing Learned Constraints Through Cathodal tDCS on the Left Dorsolateral Prefrontal Cortex, Sci. Reps., June 7, 2017, at 1, 6; Nicola Davis, Suppressing the Reasoning Part of the Brain Stimulates Creativity, Scientists Find, Guardian (June 7, 2017, at 12:27 ET), https://www.theguardian.com/science/2017/jun/07/thinking-caps-on-electrical-currents-boost-creative-problem-solving-study-finds [https://perma.cc/AP3V-VZ5A]. Suppression of this region appears to lead to greater creative activity.158Klinge, supra note 155. It is therefore unsurprising that adolescence and emerging adulthood—when the prefrontal cortex is still not fully developed—is such a critical period for creativity.

In sum, creativity and criminality in young people stem from their developmental traits, including their ongoing brain development. However, of the two, creativity is also identified as essential for healthy development.

B. Young People’s Developmental Need for Creativity

While creativity and criminality stem from similar developmental traits and brain development, creativity is essential for healthy development in adolescents and emerging adults. The need to prioritize creativity is even more urgent in light of what scholars have called a “creativity crisis” among youth in the United States.159Kim, supra note 45, at 13. Kyung Hee Kim found that young people’s creative thinking skills have “significantly decreased” since the 1990s.160Kyung Hee Kim, The Creativity Crisis: The Decrease in Creative Thinking Scores on the Torrance Tests of Creative Thinking, 23 Creativity Rsch. J. 285, 285 (2011); see also Kim, supra note 45, at 13. She analyzed over 270,000 results from the Torrance Test of Creative Thinking—the “most commonly used creativity test”161Kim, supra note 45, at 12.—that kindergarteners to twelfth graders took from 1966 to 2008.162Kim, supra note 160, at 287. Her research revealed that there was a “steady and persistent” decline in creative thinking scores in the most recent two decades covered by her study (1990 to 2008).163Id. at 293. Her 2021 study similarly continued to find declines in indicators for creativity in students.164Kyung Hee Kim, Creativity Crisis Update: America Follows Asia in Pursuing High Test Scores over Learning, 43 Roeper Rev. 21, 21 (2021).

This stage of adolescence and emerging adulthood is a critical time for creativity, as creativity is an essential factor in development and identity formation. For young people, the “rapid neurodevelopmental changes, including the development of more advanced levels of objective, rational, hypothetical, abstract, and metacognitive thinking,” make this period “a critical period for creative identity development.”165Van der Zanden et al., supra note 3, at 2. Identity formation is fundamental.166Jeffrey Jensen Arnett, Emerging Adulthood: A Theory of Development from the Late Teens Through the Twenties, 55 Am. Psych. 469, 470–76 (2000); Larry J. Nelson & Laura M. Padilla-Walker, Flourishing and Floundering in Emerging Adult College Students, Emerging Adulthood, 2013, at 67, 67–68; Stephen J. Dollinger, Stephanie M. Clancy Dollinger & Leslie Centeno, Identity and Creativity, 5 Identity: Int’l J. Theory & Rsch. 315, 317–18, 332–33 (2005). As biologist and naturalist Edward O. Wilson wrote, creativity is an “innate quest for originality” that is “the unique and defining trait of our species; and its ultimate goal, self-understanding.”167Edward O. Wilson, The Origins of Creativity 3 (2017). During this period, young people are “susceptible to social, emotional, and relational experiences” that “can help support or potentially suppress creative identity development.”168Van der Zanden et al., supra note 3, at 2. Young people’s neuroplasticity also encourages their creativity.169See supra notes 118–20 and accompanying text.

Moreover, creativity supports problem-solving, adaptability, and resilience, all essential traits for young people’s development.170Margaret V. Prescott, Banu Sekendur, Bryce Bailey & Janice Hoshino, Art Making As a Component and Facilitator of Resiliency with Homeless Youth, 25 Art Therapy: J. Am. Art Therapy Ass’n 156, 157 (2008); A Guide to Resilience, Ctr. Developing Child: Harv. Univ., https://developingchild.harvard.edu/science/key-concepts/resilience [https://perma.cc/3PMD-KJXB]. Creativity enables young people to “approach problems insightfully” and to maintain a positive outlook on life even amidst adversity.171Robert J. Sternberg, Enhancing Creativity, in Creativity: An Introduction, supra note 3, at 272, 272. It encourages one to be flexible in confronting changes and opportunities.172Runco, supra note 11, at xii. It enhances resilience, which is defined as “the process of, capacity for, or outcome of successful adaptation despite challenging or threatening circumstances.”173Ann S. Masten, Karin M. Best & Norman Garmezy, Resilience and Development: Contributions from the Study of Children Who Overcome Adversity, 2 Dev. & Psychopathology 425, 425 (1990). Resilience gives young people the “ability to bounce back from risks or failures and to adapt to dynamics and success.”174Mudan Fan, Wenjing Cai & Lin Jiang, Can Team Resilience Boost Team Creativity Among Undergraduate Students? A Sequential Mediation Model of Team Creative Efficacy and Team Trust, Frontiers Psych., June 2021, at 1, 2. One reason that creativity and resilience are linked is that creative acts “provide a ‘safe haven,’ ” especially in times of hardship and stress.175Prescott et al., supra note 170, at 157. For example, one study showed a strong correlation between unhoused youths who attended a drop-in art center and their increased resilience.176Id.

Another study underscored that the interdependent relationship between resilience and creativity is also apparent in group settings. An experiment involving undergraduate students found that a group’s resilience is “significantly correlated” with the group’s creativity.177Fan et al., supra note 174, at 6. Resilience positively increases creativity because resilience positively influences two mediating variables: a group’s belief in their ability to produce creative outcomes (i.e., creative efficacy) and trust amongst group members.178Id. at 1–7, 10, 11. This finding is also significant because young people are highly influenced by peer pressure,179Chester et al., supra note 141, at 17–18. and creativity can serve as a constructive form of peer influence.

Creativity also enhances enjoyment and overall well-being for young people. Creative activities often induce “flow,” or an “exhilarating, pleasurable moment of complete absorption.”180Kaufman & Glăveanu, supra note 3, at 20. Engaging in creative pursuits boosts self-esteem.181Prescott et al., supra note 170, at 156. These effects are important for the well-being of young people.

In summary, creativity is not just an outward expression of young people’s development—it also shapes it. By facilitating identity formation, problem-solving, resilience, self-esteem, and enjoyment, creativity plays a critical role in their overall well-being. This developmental basis for young people’s heightened connections to creativity and crime underscores the need for the developmental framework to recognize and prioritize creativity as a key developmental goal.

C. The Developmental Framework

The developmental framework provides that developmental and neuroscience research related to young people should guide the creation, interpretation, and application of laws, regulations, and policies that affect them. While the state has long accounted for differences in the age and maturity of young people, this modern iteration is distinct because rather than relying on “simplistic views of childhood,”182Huntington & Scott, supra note 37, at 1398. state actors are now increasingly relying on a much more reliable “body of psychological and biological research on child and adolescent development” and emerging adulthood development, as well as evidence on the “effectiveness of these policies.”183Id. This framework has grown in scope and significance since its creation in the early 2000s.

This modern developmental framework emerged in the early 2000s when the Supreme Court issued a series of four landmark decisions under the Eighth Amendment that incorporated developmental research to interpret the constitutional rights of youth under eighteen in sentencing.184Roper v. Simmons, 543 U.S. 551, 569–74 (2005); Graham v. Florida, 560 U.S. 48, 68–75 (2010); Miller v. Alabama, 567 U.S. 460, 470–80 (2012); Montgomery v. Louisiana, 577 U.S. 190, 206–12 (2016); see also Hong, supra note 154, at 279–80, 292–94, 297. Also, in J.D.B. v. North Carolina, the Court underscored the relevance of a child’s age for purposes of determining whether the individual is “in custody” under Miranda and noted that this consideration was also consistent with developmental research. J.D.B. v. North Carolina, 564 U.S. 261, 271–80 (2011). Each case produced a noteworthy change, such as a prohibition on the death penalty and limitations on life imprisonment without parole sentences for youths who committed crimes before the age of eighteen.185Roper, 543 U.S. 551 (banning the death penalty for sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds); Graham, 560 U.S. 48 (prohibiting life without parole sentences in nonhomicide cases for those under eighteen years old); Miller, 567 U.S. 460 (prohibiting mandatory life without parole sentences in homicide cases for those under eighteen years old); Montgomery, 577 U.S. 190 (finding that the holding in Miller is retroactive). However, collectively, these cases are viewed as revolutionary,186Hong, supra note 154, at 291–97. creating a seismic shift in the legal landscape for youth under eighteen, and more recently, for emerging adults aged eighteen to twenty-five.

The developmental framework’s most significant impact has been on juvenile and criminal laws and policies for those under eighteen.187Huntington & Scott, supra note 37, at 1436–38; Scott, supra note 39, at 282. However, the framework has since expanded in two major ways. First, developmental and neuroscience research is shaping areas of the law beyond juvenile and criminal law for youth under eighteen. Second, this research is increasingly impacting emerging adults, or those aged eighteen to twenty-five. These two expansions will be described in turn.

The first expansion of the developmental framework has been the growing incorporation of developmental and neuroscience research beyond just the juvenile and criminal systems. Emily Buss articulated a broad theory of “developmental jurisprudence,” which calls for the law to be a “developmental agent” that “shapes how children grow up.”188Buss, supra note 37, at 751. Buss stated that the “law should aim to minimize the developmental harm it imposes and maximize the developmental benefit it provides.”189Id. at 752.

Consistent and “compatible” with Buss’s theory, Clare Huntington and Elizabeth Scott created the “Child Wellbeing framework”190Huntington & Scott, supra note 37, at 1398. to guide all regulations and policies affecting youth under eighteen to meet the primary goal of “promot[ing] child wellbeing.”191Id. at 1375. The Child Wellbeing framework consists of three key principles, the first of which is the primacy of the developmental framework, or the “incorporation of developmental knowledge,”192Id. at 1398. which includes “psychological and biological research on child and adolescent development, as well as growing evidence about the effectiveness of policy interventions.”193Id. at 1375. The second element is the increasing awareness of the “social welfare advantages of promoting child wellbeing, thereby broadening support for contemporary policies.” Id. The third is a greater recognition of the “embedded racial and class bias in state regulation of children [that] has led to tentative steps toward reducing these pernicious influences, even if these efforts are at an early stage.” Id. This Child Wellbeing framework applies broadly to laws and policies that affect youth under eighteen, “including systems of state intervention, parental rights, and children’s rights, as well as, to a much lesser degree, policies of state support for families.”194Id. Healthcare and education policies have also been shaped by such research.195Id. at 1436–38; Scott, supra note 39, at 297. Further evidence of its influence is seen in the inaugural Restatement of Children and the Law, which is primarily guided by the developmentally centered Child Wellbeing framework.196Scott, supra note 39, at 297; Clare Huntington & Elizabeth S. Scott, The New Restatement of Children and the Law: Legal Childhood in the Twenty-First Century, 54 Fam. L.Q. 91, 92 (2020). This again underscores the broad and far-reaching impact that the developmental framework has—and will continue to have—on laws, regulations, and policies affecting youth.

The second expansion of the developmental framework has been its application to emerging adults.197This Article focuses on the developmental framework, but it also addresses arguments that pertain to the other two parts of the Child Wellbeing framework: the “convergence of adolescent [as well as emerging adult] wellbeing and social welfare” and “recognition of the pernicious role of racial bias.” Huntington & Scott, supra note 37, at 1398. However, given that the current Child Wellbeing framework does not account specifically for emerging adults, and a new or extended version of the Child Wellbeing framework has not yet been articulated for emerging adults, the Article will continue to rely on the developmental framework. See supra note 37 and accompanying text. Increasingly, researchers and advocates are emphasizing the developmental similarities between adolescents and emerging adults, including their shared “risk-taking, impulsivity, tendency to be overly motivated by reward-seeking behavior, and high susceptibility to peer influence.”198Chester et al., supra note 141, at 17–18. Like adolescents, emerging adults’ prefrontal cortexes are still developing.199Arain et al., supra note 152, at 451–54; Steinberg, supra note 51, at 17; Chester & Barkin, supra note 152.

These findings have already led some lawmakers to propose or enact laws and policies that account for these developmental differences.200See, e.g., Francis X. Shen, Fenella McLuskie, Erin Shortell, Mariah Bellamoroso, Elizabeth Escalante, Brenna Evans, Ian Hayes, Clarissa Kimmey, Sarah Lagan, Madeleine Muller, Jennifer Near, Kailey Nicholson, Job Okeri, Ifeoma Okoli, Emily Rehmet, Nancy Gertner & Robert Kinscherff, Justice for Emerging Adults After Jones: The Rapidly Developing Use of Neuroscience to Extend Eighth Amendment Miller Protections to Defendants Ages 18 and Older, 97 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 101, 118–21 (2022). Advocates recognize that the developmental framework is pivotal for the “burgeoning field of Emerging Adult Justice.”201Chester et al., supra note 141, at 17. If the legal landscape for emerging adults were to follow the progression for adolescents—since they share similar developmental traits—then the developmental framework is poised to have an even greater influence on the laws, policies, and regulations that impact emerging adults in the criminal system and beyond.

Thus, at this pivotal inflection point, as the developmental framework expands its influence, creativity should become a central focus and priority given its importance to young people’s development. The following Parts explore how prioritizing young people’s creativity should reshape policies and practices in areas in which creativity and crime overlap and intersect—namely, in the prosecution and punishment of crime, as well as in education. These normative proposals also further illustrate the close ties between creativity and crime.

III. The Prosecution and Punishment of Crime

Implementing a developmental framework that prioritizes young people’s creativity demands meaningful changes in the prosecution and punishment of crime for young people. These proposals not only center and protect young people’s creativity to foster their healthy development, but they also provide further evidence of the deep connections between creativity and crime.

  1. Prosecuting Crime

If, as Durkheim posits, creativity and crime coexist,202Durkheim, supra note 23, at 101. then the line dividing creative and criminal acts may not always be clear-cut. Durkheim himself recognized this ambiguity when he intertwined the creative person with the criminal. He wrote, “[S]o that the originality of the idealist who dreams of transcending his era may display itself, that of the criminal, which falls short of the age, must also be possible. One does not go without the other.”203Id. Durkheim’s discussion of Socrates further underscores the blurriness between the two and how one can be misconstrued for the other. Although Socrates represented an innovative way of thinking and a new philosophy that Durkheim clearly valued since he said that it prepared the Athenians for the future,204Id. at 102. he also observed that in the society and time Socrates lived in, “his condemnation” as a criminal “was entirely just” under the prevailing laws.205Id.

This blurring between creativity and crime is not merely confined to the past. Creative acts continue to be misconstrued as crimes or as evidence of one’s criminality, particularly for young people of color. While criminalizing creativity is harmful in general, it is especially damaging for young people because it harms their development in multiple ways. It unjustly labels them as criminal or dangerous; increases their exposure to arrest, prosecution, and punishment for crimes or offenses; and suppresses their creativity.

To be clear, not all crimes and offenses committed by young people should be reframed as acts of creativity. But recognizing the substantial overlap between the two and working to reduce their mischaracterization is crucial. As the deviance spectrum introduced in Part I illustrates, this problem is most acute in the middle of the spectrum, in which the distinction between creative and criminal behavior is less clear. The concern, however, also extends to clearly criminal conduct at the end of the spectrum, in which a young person’s creative acts may be treated as evidence of general criminality or even as proof that the person committed an alleged, clearly criminal offense. When young people engage in nonconforming behavior or challenge societal norms and expectations, discretion and biases—particularly those based on race and class—impact whether their actions are interpreted as creative or criminal, or as indicative of heightened criminality. Confronting and eliminating these biases, as well as implementing innovative solutions that directly limit the criminalization of creativity, are all essential.

  1. The Significance of Discretion and Bias

Discretion and bias can tip the scales between creativity and crime. Even with established frameworks in place to help distinguish between criminal and creative acts, discretion and bias can drive the criminalization of creative expressions and the mislabeling of creativity as evidence of criminality, especially for young people of color.

Most people can agree that certain actions—no matter how creatively executed—should be considered crimes. For example, Paul Butler’s reliance on traditional categorizations and grading of actions (albeit in a different context of jury nullification206Paul Butler, Essay, Racially Based Jury Nullification: Black Power in the Criminal Justice System, 105 Yale L.J. 677, 679 (1995). While Paul Butler relied on these categories to examine the allowance of race based–jury nullification, his reasoning for grading different categories of crimes is relevant here.), such as malum in se versus malum prohibitum,207Malum in se refers to “a crime or an act that is inherently immoral, such as murder, arson, or rape.” Malum in Se, Black’s Law Dictionary (11th ed. 2019). Malum prohibitum refers to “[a]n act that is a crime merely because it is prohibited by statute, although the act itself is not necessarily immoral.” Malum Prohibitum, Black’s Law Dictionary (11th ed. 2019). For example, “misdemeanors such as jaywalking and running a stoplight are mala prohibita, as are many regulatory violations.” Id. or violent versus nonviolent offenses, provides an initial way for separating creative acts from criminal ones, even though these categories are far from perfect.208See, e.g., Benjamin Levin, After the Criminal Justice System, 98 Wash. L. Rev. 899, 940–41 (2023); Alice Ristroph, Criminal Law in the Shadow of Violence, 62 Ala. L. Rev. 571, 582–84 (2011); Rollin M. Perkins, The Civil Offense, 100 U. Pa. L. Rev. 832, 832–33 (1952). As Butler recognizes, the most serious offenses, or “violent malum in se crimes like murder, rape, and assault,” warrant no allowance from their criminalization.209Butler, supra note 206, at 715. In this context, this means that violent malum in se actions should be viewed as crimes, regardless of whether the acts were committed in an original or creative way. Such acts reside at the end of the deviance spectrum reserved for clearly criminal conduct. Meanwhile, nonviolent malum in se actions, such as perjury,210Id. at 679. as well as nonviolent or victimless malum prohibitum actions,211Id. warrant closer examination. The latter category demands the most scrutiny, as questions about their criminalization are most vexing and difficult to resolve.

Yet these categorizations are only a starting point. This is because the determination of what is creative or criminal, as well as the seriousness of the crime, frequently rests on the discretion of those within the juvenile and criminal systems, such as police officers, prosecutors, and juries charged with fact-finding. Law enforcement exercises “tremendous discretion” over which “laws to enforce and against whom.”212Rachel Moran, Doing Away with Disorderly Conduct, 63 B.C. L. Rev. 65, 88 (2022). Prosecutors, too, wield “vast discretion” to decide “whether and when to charge a person with a crime.”213Alexandra Natapoff, Misdemeanors, 85 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1313, 1337 (2012). Discretion is at its peak in the context of disorderly conduct crimes214Ari Ezra Waldman, Disorderly Content, 97 Wash. L. Rev. 907, 937 (2022); Jamelia N. Morgan, Rethinking Disorderly Conduct, 109 Calif. L. Rev. 1637, 1683 (2021). “[w]hen broadly worded statutes intersect with minor misconduct.”215Moran, supra note 212, at 88. Biases, particularly “racial and economic biases,” infuse the enforcement of such laws,216Id. at 104. and there is much more wiggle room for such conduct to be characterized as either criminal or creative.

Bias and discretion do not merely shape how acts are categorized in the middle of the deviance spectrum, they also skew and distort perceptions of creative behavior. For young people, especially young people of color and those from lower socioeconomic classes, creative expression risks being interpreted as evidence of their criminality and dangerousness, making it appear more likely that they are guilty of clearly criminal conduct. Recognizing the effects of bias and discretion is an important first step toward eliminating them. The next Section explains how bias and discretion influence how one determines individuals’ associations with criminality or creativity, and the following Section examines how bias and discretion affect whether a given act is interpreted as creative or criminal.

  1. Associations with Criminality or Creativity

In the late 1990s, the meteoric rise of McKinley “Mac” Phipps Jr.’s rap career abruptly ended after a jury found him responsible for the fatal shooting of a fan during his concert in Louisiana.217Erik Nielson & Andrea L. Dennis, Rap on Trial: Race, Lyrics, and Guilt in America 4 (2019). At just 22,218Ramon Antonio Vargas, Ex-No Limit Rapper Mac Phipps Paroled from Manslaughter Conviction: ‘Thank You for This Opportunity’, NOLA (June 22, 2021), https://www.nola.com/news/courts/ex-no-limit-rapper-mac-phipps-paroled-from-manslaughter-conviction-thank-you-for-this-opportunity/article_02d2e36e-d37c-11eb-961d-9fdd7fab2dae.html [https://perma.cc/BQV4-C2YG]. Phipps was charged with first-degree murder, and eventually convicted of manslaughter by a 10-2 jury vote.219Nielson & Dennis, supra note 217, at 4. This conviction would now be unconstitutional under the Sixth Amendment since jury verdicts for serious offenses must be unanimous. Ramos v. Louisiana, 140 S. Ct. 1390 (2020). His conviction, widely viewed as a wrongful conviction,220Nielson & Dennis, supra note 217, at 2; David Lohr, Witnesses: DA Bullied Testimony That Put Rapper Away for 30 Years, Huffington Post (July 10, 2020, at 09:18 ET), https://www.huffpost.com/entry/mckinley-mac-phipps-wrongful-conviction_n_6612074 [https://perma.cc/XS65-6KSR]. was controversial for the heavy use of Phipps’s own rap lyrics during his criminal trial. Prosecutors cherry-picked lyrics from his songs, took them out of context, and strung together lyrics from different songs to portray him “as the brutal character in his songs.”221Nielson & Dennis, supra note 217, at 5. The jury foreman later shared that Phipps’s music and rap lyrics helped secure the guilty verdict.222Id. at 6. He stated that “rap got his mind all messed up” and Phipps was “living a life that he thought he was a gangsta,”223Id. thus making it more likely that Phipps was the kind of person who would “shoot somebody in a public place on the dance floor.”224Id. Phipps served 21 years of his 30-year sentence before the governor of Louisiana granted him clemency in 2021.225Carlie Kollath Wells, No Limit Rapper McKinley ‘Mac’ Phipps Granted Clemency by John Bel Edwards: ‘We Are Grateful’, NOLA (Apr. 9, 2021), https://nola.com/news/crime_police/…/article_2896517c-9947-11eb-b4ec-d70df042488c.html [https://perma.cc/BQV4-C2YG].

Phipps’s case is sadly not an anomaly. Scholars studying traditional expressions of creativity—music, fashion, and art—have found that biases and stereotypes distort the creativity of young people of color and lower socioeconomic classes as proof of their criminality and dangerousness.

As a prime example, rap music has been prominently used to establish a narrative of criminality against young men of color. They have been introduced in criminal cases to establish motive, intent, or proof of confessions.226Prosecutors Hear Evidence in Songs, N.Y. Times (Mar. 26, 2014), https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014/03/27/arts/music/rap-lyrics.html [https://perma.cc/X3NX-UNRV]. As Andrea Dennis and Erik Nelson observed from their study of cases from 2009 to 2019 in which rap lyrics were introduced as evidence, the defendant was “almost always a young man of color.”227Nielson & Dennis, supra note 217, at 18. More specifically, nearly 95% of the defendants in the approximately 500 cases who had rap lyrics used in their criminal cases were Black or Latino young men.228Id. at 18–19. Dennis and Nelson described this association between rap music and crime as a modern iteration of a historical practice, in which “[B]lack art and expression” were often viewed “as a threat” and “criminally regulated.”229Id. at 22. This includes “slave drumming and songs[,] . . . Jim Crow–era ballads,” and creative acts expressed “in cabarets and jook joints, and during the civil rights and [B]lack nationalist eras.”230Id. The criminal system was used to “control [B]lack speech and creative endeavors.”231Id. They also found that “[n]o other fictionalized form, musical or otherwise,” faced similar treatment in court.232Id. at 7. This includes country music, which “has many of the same themes” as rap music.233Id. at 18. For example, Rolling Stone compiled a top ten list of the “creepiest country murder ballads” in which modern country artists “[got] away with the unspeakable” in their lyrics and music videos, such as murders, domestic violence, and disposing of human remains as food. Chelsea Crowell, Killer Songs: The 10 Creepiest Country Murder Ballads, Rolling Stone (Nov. 16, 2019), https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-lists/killer-songs-the-10-creepiest-country-murder-ballads-151986/lefty-frizzell-long-black-veil-2-88528 [https://perma.cc/FU5S-M6ZJ]. Dolly Parton also described the influence of murder ballads on her music and shared how her early music described incidents of abuse and violence that occurred in her own family. Sad Ass Songs, WYNC Studios (Oct. 15, 2019), https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/dolly-partons-america/episodes/sad-ass-songs [https://perma.cc/NWB5-QH2E].

That juries and prosecutors may associate rap music or music from minority artists with criminality has also been found in research experiments. Carrie Fried conducted a series of experiments to test whether the label of rap music or the race of the artist produced different reactions.234Carrie B. Fried, Bad Rap for Rap: Bias in Reactions to Music Lyrics, 26 J. Applied Soc. Psych. 2135 (1996). She took lyrics from a folk song about a young man who “hunts down and kills a police officer”235Id. at 2136. The lyrics were slightly modified to change the verb tense. Id. and found that a majority of the respondents found the folk song to be more offensive than rapper Ice T’s “Cop Killer.”236Id. at 2137. She then presented these folk lyrics to three groups and identified the lyrics as either folk, rap, or country.237Id. at 2138. Those who were told that the lyrics were from a rap song reacted more negatively, including finding the lyrics to be more offensive, more of a threat to society, and more in need of regulation.238Id. at 2139, 2141. In a subsequent experiment, she presented the same folk lyrics and, without identifying the genre of music, presented one group with a picture of a Black singer and another group with a picture of a White singer.239Id. at 2138. Those who were told that the artist was Black had a stronger negative reaction, such as finding it more offensive, more of a threat to society, and more in need of regulation.240Id. at 2141. Fried observed that “[t]he exact same lyrical passage, which is acceptable as a country song or when associated with a White artist, becomes a dangerous, offensive song in need of government regulation when it is a rap song or associated with a Black artist.”241Id.

Biases have also led to fashion being associated with criminality, especially against young people from marginalized backgrounds. When young people dressed in ways that departed from what was expected, their fashion choices were interpreted as evidence of their criminality. Zoot suits are an example from the past, while in modern times, streetwear such as hoodies and sagging pants has been directly criminalized or presented as proof of criminality and dangerousness.

The iconic zoot suits of the 1930s and 1940s departed from the traditional suit with their “high-waisted pants with baggy, pegged legs and a long coat with wide lapels”242The Zoot Suit Riots and Wartime Los Angeles, Nat’l WWII Museum (June 1, 2023), https://www.nationalww2museum.org/war/articles/zoot-suit-riots-and-wartime-los-angeles [https://perma.cc/FWY3-TBAL]. that exaggerated one’s shoulders, torsos, and limbs.243Kathy Peiss, Zoot Suit: The Enigmatic Career of an Extreme Style 17 (2011). They originated in Harlem in the 1930s and were initially worn by African American young men.244The Zoot Suit: An All-American Fashion That Changed History, Penn Today (Apr. 7, 2011), https://penntoday.upenn.edu/2011-04-07/research/zoot-suit-all-american-fashion-changed-history [https://perma.cc/ST44-KXQU]. While people of various cultures and class eventually adopted the style,245Zoot suits had broad appeal and were also worn by Asian, Jewish, and Italian Americans, as well as women, and boys from the middle class. Peiss, supra note 243, at 13. zoot suits were most commonly associated with the “youth subcultures” of Mexican Americans and African Americans.246Id. at 14. Young people had various motivations for wearing zoot suits, ranging from pure style to activism.247The Zoot Suit Riots and Wartime Los Angeles, supra note 242. However, as historian and professor Kathy Peiss documented, the zoot suit eventually became associated with criminals and gang members during the war, with some people seeing the suit as symbolizing dangerousness.248Id. The narrative took on such force that in June 1943, a group of roughly 50 Navy servicemen and other civilians looked for, attacked, and stripped those wearing zoot suits, particularly Mexican American youth.249Id. The Zoot Suits Riots in Los Angeles lasted for 5 days and, in a bewildering result, led to the arrest of approximately 600 Mexican American young men, far outnumbering the arrests of the servicemen or people who initiated the riots.250Id. While efforts to pass an ordinance that banned the zoot suit did not succeed in the Los Angeles city council as widely believed, public officials in general discouraged their wear.251Peiss, supra note 243, at 37. The zoot suit became “the exception to the government’s policy of shoring up fashion and style” during the war.252Id. Peiss holds the state responsible for the criminal and unpatriotic narratives associated with the suit. She explained, “[I]t was the police and governmental authorities that created the political meaning of the zoot suit, as they sought a threatening symbol to describe and encapsulate an array of behaviors and demeanors that to them made little sense.”253Id. at 1       3.

The modern iteration of this phenomenon involves streetwear. For many Black and Brown youth, their nonconforming, creative wear is interpreted as a criminal marker. Sagging pants have been associated with crime for decades254Gene Demby, Sagging Pants and the Long History of ‘Dangerous’ Street Fashion, NPR: Code Sw!tch (Sep. 11, 2014, at 08:18 ET), https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2014/09/11/347143588 [https://perma.cc/Z9TB-UHEL]; Emily Spivack, Sagging Pants Butt Up Against the Law, Smithsonian Mag. (Apr. 1, 2013), https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/sagging-pants-butt-up-against-the-law-12699804 [https://web.archive.org/web/20251101203328/https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/sagging-pants-butt-up-against-the-law-12699804]. and, in some jurisdictions, is actually a crime to wear.255Spivack, supra note 254. Hoodies, too, have signaled criminality. As criminologist Richard Moran observed, “Over the last 25 years, the hoodie has been associated with street crime.”256Amy Kuperinsky, Hoodies: Danger or Fashion?, NJ.com (Apr. 6, 2012, at 14:11 ET), https://www.nj.com/entertainment/2012/04/trayvon_martin_hoodie_march.html [https://perma.cc/A9YK-KELX]. It was the “uniform of MCs, stickup kids, graffiti artists, and b-boys” and a “staple of hip-hop culture.”257Emil Wilbekin, The Fear of the Hoodie, Cut (Jan. 31, 2022), https://www.thecut.com/2022/01/trayvon-martin-hoodie-fear.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20250429134423/https://www.thecut.com/2022/01/trayvon-martin-hoodie-fear.html]. The adoption of hoodies amongst “skateboard kids” and “punk-rockers” further made it a “symbol of disruption.”258Id. This association between hoodies and criminality received national attention with the killing of Trayvon Martin. George Zimmerman called 911 on Martin, describing him as a “suspicious guy” who was wearing a “dark hoodie, a gray hoodie.”259Linton Weeks, Tragedy Gives the Hoodie a Whole New Meaning, NPR (Mar. 24, 2012, at 05:44 ET), https://www.npr.org/2012/03/24/149245834 [https://perma.cc/F4HG-4ALB]. A conservative commentator opined that the hoodie could not be rehabilitated and conveyed “a sinister signal.”260Id. The commentator advised that parents stop their children from wearing it, except in situations in which it was presumably more expected, such as when it rained or “at a track-and-field event.”261Id. Meanwhile, when start-up founders and techies departed from the typical professional dress code and began wearing hoodies and casual streetwear, their nonconforming fashion choice conveyed a different message—one of creativity and innovation.262Matthew Hutson, The Power of the Hoodie-Wearing C.E.O., New Yorker (Dec. 17, 2013), https://www.newyorker.com/business/currency/the-power-of-the-hoodie-wearing-c-e-o [https://perma.cc/4WWV-ZMDN]; Adriana Lee, The Evolution of Silicon Valley Chic, WWD (Dec. 31, 2018, at 09:00 PT), https://wwd.com/feature/evolution-of-silicon-valley-style-facebook-google-mark-zuckerberg-hoodie-sundar-pichai-1202938656 [https://perma.cc/LP7Z-6DP3]. As Margaret O’Mara observed, from early in our country’s history, an innovator’s disheveled dress and appearance signaled their brilliance.263Margaret O’Mara, Opinion, Why Did We Put So Much Faith in the Crypto Whiz Kid?, N.Y. Times (Nov. 15, 2022), https://www.nytimes.com/2022/11/15/opinion/sam-bankman-fried-ftx.html [https://perma.cc/25WB-ANLK]. It implied that they did not have enough time to care about their clothing.264Id. While both groups wore similar clothing in a counter-cultural manner, one was associated with criminality, while the other with creativity.

Street art provides yet another example of how opposing messages of criminality or creativity can be shaped by the biases that society has toward those who create the art. As Jessica Silbey wrote, “Street art is a form of artistic expression that has existed throughout human civilizations . . . .”265Jessica Silbey, Foreword to Copyright in the Street: An Oral History of Creative Processes in Street Art and Graffiti Subcultures vii (Enrico Bonadio ed., 2023). Graffiti, which has been associated with young people from marginalized backgrounds, has long been weaponized to create a strong narrative of their criminality. From the 1970s to 1990s, New York City officials used racist stereotypes against Black and Latino young men to implement a criminal response against graffiti that was marked by its “brutality and intolerance.”266Maggie Dickinson, The Making of Space, Race and Place, 28 Critique Anthropology 27, 34–35 (2008). In the 1970s, Mayor Ed Koch took advantage of the growing public sentiment against stereotypical “poor [B]lack and Latino communities” to carry out his war on graffiti, mostly on subway trains.267Id. Mayor Rudy Giuliani continued the graffiti war in spaces beyond the subway, relying again on narratives about the connections between crime and marginalized youth from poor neighborhoods.268Id.

In contrast, the act of “yarn bombing”—or affixing knitted messages or drawings in public spaces—which also technically violates many criminal statutes that prohibit public vandalism,269See, e.g., Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 13-1602 (2025) (prohibiting “[r]ecklessly defacing . . . property of another person,” as well as “[r]ecklessly drawing or inscribing a message, slogan, sign or symbol that is made on any public or private building, structure or surface, except the ground, and that is made without permission of the owner”); id. § 13-1601 (2025) (defining defacing to include “any act of putting up, affixing, fastening, printing or painting any notice on any structure, without permission from the owner”). has been presented as a purely creative act. It has been covered in the media with headlines such as Dallas Yarn Bombers Brings Joy to Community270Noelle Walker, Dallas Yarn Bombers Brings Joy to Community, NBC-DFW (Sep. 26, 2022, at 19:00 PT), https://www.nbcdfw.com/news/local/dallas-yarn-bombers-wraps-communities-in-joy/3081826 [https://perma.cc/W8TW-NYX2]. or ‘Knotty Harts’ Yarn Bombs Spread Anonymous Color, Positivity Throughout Gulf Coast.271Flora Dedeaux, ‘Knotty Harts’ Yarn Bombs Spread Anonymous Color, Positivity Throughout Gulf Coast, WLOX (Sep. 3, 2023, at 05:39 PT), https://www.wlox.com/2023/05/18/knotty-harts-yarn-bombs-spread-anonymous-color-positivity-throughout-gulf-coast [https://perma.cc/24G6-7VKK]. One news story described yarn bombing as “[a] crafty kind of graffiti,”272“Yarn Bomber” Hopes to Bring New Perspective to Street Art, CBS News (Jan. 25, 2017, at 12:23 ET), https://www.cbsnews.com/news/yarn-bombing-street-art-graffiti-london-kaye [https://perma.cc/69CV-WR72]. and while it noted that “[c]ritics of graffiti in general might call it vandalism,” it presented the act as an entirely positive expression of art and creativity.273Id. The possibility of arrest or criminal consequences for yarn bombing was made entirely in jest.274Walker, supra note 270. Scholars have observed that yarn bombing is most often carried out by “[W]hite, middle-class women.”275Alyce McGovern, Craftivism and Yarn Bombing: A Criminological Exploration 96 (Reece Walters & Deborah H. Drake eds., 2019). The “public imagery” is that “yarn bombers” are described “as either mysterious but harmless urban knitters, or friendly-faced nannas.”276Id.

While yarn bombing and graffiti may violate the same vandalism laws, there is an immediate association of yarn bombing with creativity, art, and joy, while, in general, graffiti carries an aura of criminality. And even though differences exist between yarn bombing and graffiti, such as the difficulty in removing the latter or the messages that they display, they do not fully account for the immediate and almost knee-jerk association of one form of vandalism with crime and the other with creativity. To further underscore that graffiti is not inherently criminal, its growing commodification has altered its reception and messaging. The works of certain graffiti artists, such as Banksy and Jean-Michel Basquiat,277See, e.g., Angelica Villa, The Most Expensive Jean-Michel Basquiat Works Ever Sold at Auction, ARTnews (Mar. 8, 2021, at 15:32 PT), https://www.artnews.com/list/art-news/artists/jean-michel-basquiat-most-expensive-works-1234585981 [https://perma.cc/HQ5F-APFU]; Banksy Value: Top Prices Paid at Auction, MyArtBroker (Jan. 8, 2026), https://www.myartbroker.com/artist-banksy/record-prices/banksy-record-prices# [https://web.archive.org/web/20250514183927/https://www.myartbroker.com/artist-banksy/record-prices/banksy-record-prices]. sell for millions. Landlords, developers, brands, and government employees worldwide are increasingly using the counter-cultural message behind graffiti to market and sell their products and properties.278Isabella Kwai, As Graffiti Moves from Eyesore to Amenity, Landlords Try to Cash In, N.Y. Times (Apr. 6, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/31/business/graffiti-real-estate-gentrification.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20250706130039/https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/31/business/graffiti-real-estate-gentrification.html].

Biases rooted in race and class against young people affect how their creative endeavors—even traditional ones in music, fashion, and art—are interpreted. For young people of color from lower socioeconomic classes, their creative expressions, such as rap, streetwear, and graffiti, have signaled their dangerousness and criminality. Meanwhile, other forms of music with violent lyrics, street art that invaded public spaces without permission, or similar counter-cultural casual wear relayed creativity. As discussed in the next Section, biases also impact whether nonconforming or unexpected actions are labeled as creative or criminal.

  1. Labeling Acts As Creative or Criminal

Ahmed Mohamed and Kiera Wilmot met for the first time at the White House’s Astronomy Night.279Avianne Tan, Ahmed Mohamed Meets Florida Engineering Student Arrested Under Similar Circumstances, ABC News (Oct. 20, 2015, at 13:25 PT), https://abcnews.go.com/US/ahmed-mohamed-meets-florida-engineering-student-arrested-similar/story?id=34603292 [https://perma.cc/GSF4-J3TX]. Though from different states and backgrounds, they shared an unlikely bond: both had been arrested and criminally charged for science experiments.280Id. Mohamed, a fourteen-year-old Muslim student from Texas, built a homemade clock to impress his high school engineering teacher.281Gardiner Harris, Ahmed Mohamed, Student Clockmaker, Visits White House, N.Y. Times (Oct. 19, 2015), https://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/20/us/politics/ahmed-mohamed-student-clockmaker-visits-white-house.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20250906072712/https://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/20/us/politics/ahmed-mohamed-student-clockmaker-visits-white-house.html]. But when the clock beeped in a different classroom, that teacher mistook it for a bomb and the school called the police.282Manny Fernandez & Christine Hauser, Handcuffed for Making Clock, Ahmed Mohamed, 14, Wins Time with Obama, N.Y. Times (Sep. 16, 2015), https://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/17/us/texas-student-is-under-police-investigation-for-building-a-clock.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20160325221439/https://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/17/us/texas-student-is-under-police-investigation-for-building-a-clock.html]. Mohamed was arrested, charged with making a hoax bomb, and suspended from school.283Elvia Limón, ‘Clock Boy’ Ahmed Mohamed’s Lawsuit Against Irving ISD, City Dismissed, Dall. Morning News (Mar. 14, 2018, at 17:30 PT), https://www.dallasnews.com/news/2018/03/15/clock-boy-ahmed-mohamed-s-lawsuit-against-irving-isd-city-dismissed [https://web.archive.org/web/20191007130147/https://www.dallasnews.com/news/2018/03/15/clock-boy-ahmed-mohamed-s-lawsuit-against-irving-isd-city-dismissed]. Wilmot, a sixteen-year-old Black honors student from Florida, had a similar experience. After her science project unexpectedly exploded in class, she was arrested, charged with two felonies, and expelled from school.284Emma Brown, Before Ahmed and His Clock, There Was Kiera and Her Science Project, Wash. Post (Oct. 20, 2015), https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/education/wp/2015/10/20/before-ahmed-and-his-clock-there-was-kiera-and-her-science-project [https://perma.cc/7N3C-6JRX]; Judy Stone, The Ahmed Mohamed Story Shows How the U.S. Stifles Innovation, Forbes (Sep. 17, 2015, at 11:10 ET), https://www.forbes.com/sites/judystone/2015/09/16/how-to-stifle-curiosity-and-innovation-why-u-s-lags-in-science-and-math [https://perma.cc/MSG9-E2ZG].

For both teens, their stories went viral and led to their criminal charges eventually being dropped. Their arrests, criminal charges, and school disciplinary actions were widely condemned as acts of Islamophobia and anti-Muslim bigotry in Mohamed’s case,285See, e.g., Goleen Samari, Islamophobia and Public Health in the United States, 106 Am. J. Pub. Health 1920, 1920 (2016); Elahe Izadi & Lindsey Bever, The History of Anti-Islam Controversy in Ahmed Mohamed’s Texas City, Wash. Post (Sep. 16, 2015), https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2015/09/16/the-history-of-anti-islam-controversy-in-ahmed-mohameds-texas-city [https://perma.cc/HG65-RDCQ]. and as racism in Wilmot’s case.286Brown, supra note 284; Stone, supra note 284. By recognizing and addressing the racial and religious biases that had led school officials and police officers to view both acts as crimes, the teenagers’ actions were later described in traditional and social media as acts of creativity and innovation that had been inappropriately criminalized.287See, e.g., Brown, supra note 284; Stone, supra note 284; Amanda Taub, The Message Ahmed Mohamed’s School Just Sent: Creativity Isn’t for Muslim Kids, Vox (Sep. 16, 2015, at 10:40 PT), https://www.vox.com/2015/9/16/9338557 [https://perma.cc/3WS9-EXS7]; John Bacon, Muslim Student’s Creative Clock Draws Police—and White House Invitation, Religion News Serv. (Sep. 17, 2015), https://religionnews.com/2015/09/17/students-creative-clock-draws-police-white-house-invitation [https://web.archive.org/web/20240229203624/https://religionnews.com/2015/09/17/students-creative-clock-draws-police-white-house-invitation]; Ramy Zabarah, Why We Need More Ahmed Mohameds, Popular Mechs. (Sep. 16, 2015), https://www.popularmechanics.com/culture/web/a17367/ahmed-mohamed-the-power-of-diy [https://web.archive.org/web/20230327101727/https://www.popularmechanics.com/culture/web/a17367/ahmed-mohamed-the-power-of-diy].

While Mohamed’s and Wilmot’s stories received national attention, similar stories have fallen under the radar, especially when the exercise of discretion resulted in a favorable reaction that was not newsworthy. After Mohamed’s and Wilmot’s stories went viral, many shared how they or their children engaged in similar acts that could have been criminalized but were instead rewarded for their creativity or merely received light reprimands.288See, e.g., Stone, supra note 284. In Wilmot’s case, numerous “scientists and science fans” on Twitter shared how they also had blown things up, but were “congratulated on their curiosity” or received a “slap[] on the wrist.”289Tim Elfrink, Scientists Back Kiera Wilmot by Tweeting About All the Stuff They’ve Blown Up, Mia. New Times (May 2, 2013), https://www.miaminewtimes.com/news/scientists-back-kiera-wilmot [https://perma.cc/L6XU-DFZB].

This double standard has been observed by Kristin Henning who spent decades defending indigent children. She recounted the story of a thirteen-year-old Black student who, inspired by a movie, made a fake Molotov cocktail at home.290Kristin Henning, The Rage of Innocence: How America Criminalizes Black Youth xiii (2021). While it was not functional—as the household materials would never have caught on fire—when the teen mistakenly took it to school after leaving it in his backpack, he was arrested, charged with multiple offenses, detained, suspended from school and extracurriculars, and required to meet with a probation officer, attend anger management classes, and undergo urine testing for drugs.291Id. While his case was eventually dismissed, he endured months of school and court officials treating him as a criminal.292Id.

Initially, Henning attributed the teen’s harsh treatment to the increased sensitivity to violence in schools.293Id. But her perspective changed after she learned of a nearly identical case involving a White student from another district. There, the student’s mother shared that her son’s consequence was a positive one: enrollment in the chemistry class to further explore his interest in the sciences.294Id. Henning ultimately described her client’s experience as a classic manifestation of the criminalization of Black youth.295Id. School administrators, police officers, the prosecutor, and the judge all viewed the Black teen’s act as dangerous, harmful, and criminal, when they could have viewed it as Henning described it—as an act in which the youth “was just being creative.”296Id. This experience is consistent with her

research that “typical adolescent behaviors” are increasingly characterized as crimes, especially for youth of color.297Kristin Henning, Criminalizing Normal Adolescent Behavior in Communities of Color: The Role of Prosecutors in Juvenile Justice Reform, 98 Corn. L. Rev. 383, 386 (2013).

It is necessary to recognize that bias also plays a powerful role in influencing which young people are encouraged to take risks and break rules in the pursuit of creativity and innovation. The contrast is evident in tech, in which risk-takers and rule breakers are revered and in high demand. Paul Graham, co-founder of the Y Combinator start-up accelerator, famously wrote in 2005 that investors “should be funding hackers instead of suits.”298How Y Combinator Started, Paul Graham (Mar. 2012), http://www.paulgraham.com/ycstart.html [https://perma.cc/BPD3-D729]. This revolutionary mindset that the “best founders were hackers” transformed the venture-capital industry.299Steven Levy, How Y Combinator Changed the World, WIRED (Dec. 21, 2021, at 07:00 PT), https://www.wired.com/story/how-y-combinator-changed-the-world [https://web.archive.org/web/20250226095634/https://www.wired.com/story/how-y-combinator-changed-the-world]. Called “Silicon Valley’s Start-Up Machine,”300Nathaniel Rich, Silicon Valley’s Start-Up Machine, N.Y. Times: Mag. (May 2, 2013), https://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/05/magazine/y-combinator-silicon-valleys-start-up-machine.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20251004183309/https://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/05/magazine/y-combinator-silicon-valleys-start-up-machine.html]. Y Combinator’s first cohort included the founders of Reddit and Sam Altman (now CEO of OpenAI), and has been credited with “chang[ing] the world” for the start-ups it supported, including Airbnb, Dropbox, Instacart, Stripe, and Substack.301Levy, supra note 299.

In tech, acts that are unethical, or even outright illegal, have been overlooked because they were framed as innovative and creative. For instance, Sean Parker and Shawn Fanning were teenagers when they created a peer-to-peer music-sharing program Napster that upended the music industry.302Eamonn Forde, Oversharing: How Napster Nearly Killed the Music Industry, Guardian (May 31, 2019, at 05:00 ET), https://www.theguardian.com/music/2019/may/31/napster-twenty-years-music-revolution [https://perma.cc/F967-2HW7]. Even as investors questioned whether the technology was “legal or not,” they still gave Napster multiple investment offers.303Id. Meanwhile, Elizabeth Holmes was long hailed as a genius for a technology that proved nonexistent. At the age of nineteen, she dropped out of Stanford University and founded Theranos to detect health conditions from a few drops of blood.304Daniel Thomas, Theranos Scandal: Who Is Elizabeth Holmes and Why Was She on Trial?, BBC (Nov. 18, 2022), https://www.bbc.com/news/business-58336998 [https://perma.cc/XV5M-YYCF]. Her “creative disruption” brought in large investments and wide acclaim, and she eventually defrauded investors and regulators and harmed

patients.305Id.; Eric J. Topol, Creative Disruption? She’s 29 and Set to Reboot Lab Medicine, Medscape: Neurology (Nov. 18, 2013), https://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/814233 [https://web.archive.org/web/20140309222349/http://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/814233_1]. While she was eventually convicted of multiple crimes, it took an in-depth investigation by a journalist to shatter the illusion.306Press Release, U.S. Att’y’s Off., N. Dist. of Cal., Elizabeth Holmes Sentenced to More Than 11 Years for Defrauding Theranos Investors of Hundreds of Millions (Nov. 18, 2022), https://www.justice.gov/usao-ndca/pr/elizabeth-holmes-sentenced-more-11-years-defrauding-theranos-investors-hundreds [https://perma.cc/5VYX-TE6F]; Lydia Ramsey Pflanzer, The Reporter Who Broke the Theranos Saga Wide Open Pinpoints the Moment He Knew He Had a Big Story on His Hands, Bus. Insider (Mar. 14, 2019, at 07:44 PT), https://www.businessinsider.com/john-carreyrou-theranos-2018-5 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250919015652/https://www.businessinsider.com/john-carreyrou-theranos-2018-5]; John Carreyrou, Hot Startup Theranos Has Struggled with Its Blood-Test Technology, Wall St. J. (Oct. 16, 2015), https://www.wsj.com/articles/theranos-has-struggled-with-blood-tests-1444881901 [https://web.archive.org/web/20211120020606/https://www.wsj.com/articles/theranos-has-struggled-with-blood-tests-1444881901]; John Carreyrou, At Theranos, Many Strategies and Snags, Wall St. J. (Dec. 27, 2015, at 18:40 ET), https://www.wsj.com/articles/at-theranos-many-strategies-and-snags-1451259629 [https://web.archive.org/web/20221129172352/https://www.wsj.com/articles/at-theranos-many-strategies-and-snags-1451259629].

Mark Zuckerberg and Facebook’s rise to power have also been shrouded with allegations of unlawful behavior. While working for his classmates at Harvard on a similar concept, Zuckerberg allegedly stalled their project and launched Facebook instead.307Nicholas Carlson, At Last—The Full Story of How Facebook Was Founded, Bus. Insider (Mar. 3, 2010, at 11:18 PT), https://www.businessinsider.com/how-facebook-was-founded-2010-3 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250922224502/https://www.businessinsider.com/how-facebook-was-founded-2010-3]. The classmates later created their own site, ConnectU, but evidence showed that Zuckerberg hacked into ConnectU’s website and altered user information to make the “site less useful,”308Id. including changing the privacy settings to make them less visible and deactivating twenty accounts.309Id. Credible allegations also support that he took users’ private login data from Facebook to hack into their private email accounts and read emails.310Id. Even before Zuckerberg’s foray into Facebook, he faced Harvard’s Administrative Board to address charges for “breaching security, violating copyrights and violating individual privacy” for “his unauthorized use of on-line facebook photographs” for a website that ranked students’ attractiveness.311Katharine A. Kaplan, Facemash Creator Survives Ad Board, Harv. Crimson (Nov. 19, 2003), https://www.thecrimson.com/article/2003/11/19/facemash-creator-survives-ad-board-the [https://perma.cc/N97F-62EN]. Zuckerberg declined to disclose the board’s eventual actions, but shared that he was not required to withdraw or leave school.312Id. Zuckerberg did not face criminal prosecution for any of these actions.

Similarly, the young executives and inner circle of FTX (a cryptocurrency exchange),313Tracy Wang & Coindesk, Sam Bankman-Fried’s Crypto Empire ‘Was Run by a Gang of Kids in the Bahamas’ Who All Dated Each Other, Fortune (Nov. 11, 2022, at 06:14 ET), https://fortune.com/2022/11/11/sam-bankman-fried-crypto-empire-ftx-alameda-run-gang-kids-bahamas-who-all-dated-each-other [https://perma.cc/HJX5-ZJ8A]. who all graduated from elite universities, benefited from an aura of creativity that enabled them to defraud investors and customers of billions of dollars for years before they were finally prosecuted.314Andrew Ross Sorkin, Ravi Mattu, Bernhard Warner, Sarah Kessler, Stephen Gandel, Michael J. de la Merced, Lauren Hirsh & Ephrat Livni, Losses Pile Up in FTX Bankruptcy Turmoil, N.Y. Times (Nov. 23, 2022), https://www.nytimes.com/2022/11/23/business/dealbook/sbf-ftx-bankruptcy-turmoil.html [https://perma.cc/7GJS-3GEA]; Ken Sweet & Larry Neumeister, Fallen Crypto Mogul Sam Bankman-Fried Sentenced to 25 Years in Prison, Associated Press (Mar. 28, 2024, at 16:50 PT), https://apnews.com/article/sam-bankman-fried-ftx-cryptocurrency-sentencing-sbf-d7bb1a5e94b4c22039d74dfeab1a2ff1 [https://perma.cc/YB5M-TMWQ]. The image of the founder as an “eccentric genius” and “wonder child” distracted from the misuse of funds and financial crimes.315David Gerard, Sam Bankman-Fried Was Hailed As a Crypto Wonder Child. What Happened?, Guardian (Nov. 15, 2022, at 06:08 ET), https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/nov/15/ftx-cryptocurrency-sam-bankman-fried [https://perma.cc/3PRZ-5H2U]. Biases again played a significant role in construing these actions that broke norms and rules as creative and innovative. As O’Mara observed, the “whiz kids” are “almost exclusively, male, [W]hite and young.”316O’Mara, supra note 263; Vinamrata Chaturvedi, Meet the Crypto ‘Gals’ of the 2023 Forbes 50 Over 50, Forbes (Aug. 2, 2023, at 19:59 ET), https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbeswomenvoices/2023/08/01/meet-the-crypto-gals-of-the-2023-forbes-50-over-50 [https://perma.cc/S775-BS36]. They benefit from their class and prestige from elite universities like Harvard, Stanford, and MIT. Society is “still fixated on the idea of the eccentric genius accomplishing extraordinary things.”317Lauren Goode, Why the World Fell for Sam Bankman-Fried, WIRED (Dec. 2, 2022, at 09:00 PT), https://www.wired.com/story/plaintext-why-the-world-fell-for-sam-bankman-fried-ftx [https://perma.cc/84Z4-7A55].

Notably, tech experts have not responded to these high-profile incidents by calling for stricter criminal laws or increased criminal prosecutions. Instead, some even caution against new regulations, arguing they are not “only costly and potentially harmful for innovation, but also limited in its effectiveness.”318Shlomit Azgad-Tromer & Matthew Green, Opinion, How Crypto Can Avoid the Next FTX, CoinDesk (June 14, 2024, at 11:21 PT), https://www.coindesk.com/opinion/2022/12/13/ftx-collapse-cryptocurrency-failures [https://perma.cc/S7LV-ED7B]. Proposed solutions instead focus on changing business practices, such as insisting on a work culture of experimentation, failure, and honesty;319Jay Steinfeld, 2 Insights to Prevent Your Company from Unknowingly Becoming Another Theranos, Inc. (Jan. 17, 2022), https://www.inc.com/jay-steinfeld/two-insights-to-prevent-your-company-from-unknowingly-becoming-another-theranos.html [https://perma.cc/M38Q-UCZK]. requiring more information to confirm claims and research that are being presented;320Mathew McCooe, Opinion: How Investors Can Prevent Another Theranos from Blowing Up Their Portfolio, MarketWatch (Apr. 17, 2018, at 13:56 ET), https://www.marketwatch.com/story/how-investors-can-prevent-another-theranos-from-blowing-up-their-portfolio-2018-04-17 [https://web.archive.org/web/20230419224838/https://www.marketwatch.com/story/how-investors-can-prevent-another-theranos-from-blowing-up-their-portfolio-2018-04-17]. and either relying on technology or creating new ones to allow for transparency and confirmation of data.321Azgad-Tromer & Green, supra note 318. Similarly, leaders in the cryptocurrency industry, despite several prominent criminal prosecutions,322Allison Morrow, Crypto’s 2023 Was Marred by Fraud and Scandal. It May Have Been Its Best Year Ever, CNN: Business (Dec. 24, 2023, at 08:00 ET), https://www.cnn.com/2023/12/24/tech/crypto-2023-bitcoin-sbf/index.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20251009133036/https://www.cnn.com/2023/12/24/tech/crypto-2023-bitcoin-sbf]; Olga Kharif & Anna Irrera, SBF Tops a Long List of Crypto Hot Shots Facing Legal Reckoning, Bloomberg (Nov. 3, 2023, at 07:32 PT), https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-11-03/here-are-the-other-former-crypto-leaders-facing-a-legal-reckoning?embedded-checkout=true [https://perma.cc/AL78-JG45]. are also not advocating for more criminal laws or prosecutions. Instead, they actively seek clarification on what is legal, arguing that it is essential for continued innovation in the crypto space.323Nikolaus R. Fahrer & Anne M. Coughlan, The (Somewhat Lively) State of Crypto Regulation, Thomson Reuters (June 1, 2023), https://www.thomsonreuters.com/en-us/posts/investigation-fraud-and-risk/crypto-regulation [https://perma.cc/DRR8-38TD]; Paul Grewal, Coinbase Takes Another Formal Step to Seek Regulatory Clarity from SEC for the Crypto Industry, Coinbase (Apr. 24, 2023), https://www.coinbase.com/blog/coinbase-takes-another-formal-step-to-seek-regulatory-clarity-from-sec-for [https://web.archive.org/web/20250804155352/https://www.coinbase.com/blog/coinbase-takes-another-formal-step-to-seek-regulatory-clarity-from-sec-for]; US House Passes Crypto Bill Despite Warnings from SEC, Reuters (May 22, 2024, at 18:06 PT), https://www.reuters.com/world/us/us-securities-regulator-urges-against-crypto-bill-adoption-2024-05-22 [https://perma.cc/EV9M-BYMV]. These requests may, themselves, signal the inadequacies in our current laws and a need for new legal frameworks to accommodate this new technology.324See supra Section I.A.

In the gray space in which creativity and criminality coexist, and actions and behaviors are by definition deviant and unexpected, biases can determine whether the coin lands on the side of creativity or crime. Recognizing that bias profoundly affects the labeling of creativity or crime, and working to eliminate these biases, is an important and necessary step to prevent the criminalization of creativity.

  1. New Laws and Policies

In addition to addressing biases, creating specific laws and policies that prevent the criminalization of creativity, and that reduce reliance on criminal prosecutions overall, could foster and protect the creativity and healthy development of young people, ultimately benefiting the criminal and juvenile systems, as well as society as a whole.

First, new laws can directly limit how creative expressions are used in criminal prosecutions. For instance, California’s Decriminalizing Artistic Expression Act from 2022 limits when “creative expressions,” including “music, dance, performance art, visual art, poetry, literature, [and] film,” may be introduced as evidence in criminal trials.325Cal. Evid. Code § 352.2 (West 2024); August Brown, Gov. Newsom Signs Bill Restricting Use of Rap Lyrics in Criminal Trials, L.A. Times (Sep. 30, 2022, at 16:24 PT), https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/music/story/2022-09-30/rap-lyrics-bill-governor-newsom-decriminalizing-artistic-expression-act [https://perma.cc/FH9F-LTMD]. In assessing the probative value of the evidence against the “substantial danger of undue prejudice,” there are explicit protections for creativity and prohibitions against their misuse.326Cal. Evid. Code § 352.2. Specifically, the law provides that the probative value of the creative expression for its truth should be considered minimal unless certain conditions apply, such as the expression having a “sufficient level of similarity” to the crimes at issue. Id. It also provides explicit examples of undue prejudice, including the potential that the creative expression will show the defendant’s “propensity for violence or general criminal disposition” and “the possibility that the evidence will explicitly or implicitly inject racial bias into the proceedings.” Id. If the creative expression is admitted, there is guidance on the types of evidence that may be introduced to minimize bias, such as evidence regarding the “genre of creative expression as to the social or cultural context,” as well as “[e]xperimental or social science research” that shows that the creative expression may “introduce[] racial bias into the proceedings.” Id. In August 2023, Louisiana became the second state to pass similar legislation to prohibit or limit the use of creative works, such as rap lyrics, in criminal prosecutions.327Montana Miller, The Restoring Artistic Protection (RAP) Act Takes Effect in Louisiana, Recording Acad. (Aug. 2, 2023, at 13:25 PT), https://www.recordingacademy.com/advocacy/news/restoring-artistic-protection-act-enacted-in-louisiana [https://perma.cc/ZXT7-G7V4]. Congress is also considering such restrictions through the Restoring Artistic Protection Act,328Eden Villalovas, Congress to Reconsider RAP Act That Would Limit Using Lyrics As Court Evidence, Wash. Exam’r (Apr. 28, 2023, at 18:23 PT), https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/news/2256078/congress-to-reconsider-rap-act-that-would-limit-using-lyrics-as-court-evidence [https://perma.cc/QG3Z-2UVT]; Press Release, Congressman André Carson, Reps. Hank Johnson and Sydney Kamlager-Dove Introduce Bill to Protect Artists’ 1st Amendment Rights (July 24, 2025), https://carson.house.gov/media/press-releases/reps-hank-johnson-and-sydney-kamlager-dove-introduce-bill-protect-artists-1st?utm_s [https://perma.cc/6SL4-NSGH]. and there are similar measures in other states, such as New York and Missouri.329Villalovas, supra note 328. These limitations are necessary especially since the First Amendment has offered insufficient protection to stem the use of rap lyrics in criminal trials.330Nielson & Dennis, supra note 217, at 108–09.

In addition, new policies should be implemented to increase opportunities for young people to engage in positive risk-taking through creative outlets. Risk-taking is a natural part of youth development, and channeling it into constructive outlets minimizes the likelihood of engaging in negative risks.331See supra notes 48, 146–49 and accompanying text. Rather than resorting immediately to criminal prosecutions to address unexpected or nonconforming behavior in young people, creative alternatives should be explored. For instance, some cities have countered the harms associated with graffiti by establishing designated public spaces or “permission walls,”332Bryan Stalder, Graffiti Artists Seek “Permission Walls” for Legal Spaces to Showcase Their Work, Ne. News (Apr. 6, 2022), https://northeastnews.net/pages/graffiti-artists-seek-permission-walls-for-legal-spaces-to-showcase-their-work [https://perma.cc/2V89-R5HH]; Carol Robidoux, Only in Nashua: NH’s Only ‘Legal’ Graffiti Wall/Urban Paint Shop, Patch (Jan. 22, 2013, at 02:27 ET), https://patch.com/new-hampshire/nashua/only-in-nashua-nh-s-only-free-graffiti-wall-urban-paint-shop [https://perma.cc/FM3F-SWEH]. offering a constructive outlet for creative expression. Expanding such initiatives can provide more avenues for young people to engage in healthy risk-taking through creative activities.

This approach could also extend to fields like technology and start-ups, in which creativity and innovation are at the forefront. This is especially critical for Black founders who “face far more difficulty raising money than their [W]hite competitors.”333Emily Flitter, A Black Venture Capitalist Sees Challenges As an Investing Edge, N.Y. Times (Sep. 10, 2020), https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/10/business/black-venture-capital.html [https://perma.cc/3XYR-3D2Y]. For example, a study of more than 500 founders revealed that only 1.5% of Black founders’ funding came from investors, compared with 17% of funding for White founders. Id. Programs and initiatives that provide training, networking opportunities, and access to capital are some ways to ensure that young people from all backgrounds are engaging in positive risk-taking, thereby reducing negative risk-taking endeavors.

Overall, promoting inclusive creative opportunities and preventing the criminalization of creativity will require original, bold, and unconventional thinking. Importantly, young people should actively participate in shaping and implementing these policies and initiatives. Their innate creativity and insight into what motivates them and their peers can help develop effective and impactful laws and policies.

B. Punishing Crime

Next, applying a developmental framework that prioritizes and protects young people’s creativity should also reshape punishment. While the developmental framework has already led to significant progress in limiting how young people are punished,334See supra Section II.C. further measures are necessary to safeguard and cultivate their creativity, even after a criminal conviction or juvenile delinquency adjudication. These changes also pave the way for broader systemic reforms for all people.

Our current system of punishment, especially incarceration and confinement, crushes and stifles creativity. In general, there is “widespread acceptance of boredom as punishment,”335Saida Grundy, Why Boredom Affects Us So Much, Atl. (Apr. 17, 2020), https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2020/04/why-boredom-affects-us-so-much/610114 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250906070015/https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2020/04/why-boredom-affects-us-so-much/610114]. and the American prison system is particularly adept at implementing a “long-term boredom.”336Weeks, supra note 259. This boredom may be overshadowed by other harsh realities of prison life, such as violence or abuse, that impose long-term trauma.337Ruth Delaney, Ram Subramanian, Alison Shames & Nicholas Turner, Reimagining Prison, Vera Inst. Just., Oct. 2018, at 1, 26, https://www.vera.org/downloads/publications/Reimagining-Prison_FINAL3_digital.pdf [https://perma.cc/C3ST-C5KG]. It may also be obscured by prominent creative works produced during incarceration,338These include Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote, Oscare Wilde’s De Profundis, Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Letter from Birmingham Jail, which were all written during the authors’ incarceration. John Mullan, Ten of the Best Books Written in Prison, Guardian (Sep. 18, 2009, at 19:01 ET), https://www.theguardian.com/books/2009/sep/19/books-written-in-prison [https://perma.cc/3B5K-ZEZR]; Martin Luther King, Jr., Letter from Birmingham Jail, Bill Rts. Inst. (Apr. 16, 1963), https://billofrightsinstitute.org/primary-sources/letter-from-birmingham-jail [https://perma.cc/X677-35ZV]. The imprisonment of “moral innovators and political prisoners” like Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr., also brought attention to the injustices in their society that then spurred changes in their respective society’s law and culture. Jennie Kaufman Singer, Creativity in Confinement, in The Dark Side of Creativity, supra note 4, at 177, 178. or feel-good accounts of arts programming or creative breakthroughs in prison.339Singer, supra note 338, at 189; Elena L. Grigorenko, Twice Exceptional Students: Gifts and Talents, the Performing Arts, and Juvenile Delinquency, New Directions for Child & Adolescent Dev., Jan. 2020, at 59, 63. However, these stories of creativity and innovation are the exception, not the norm.340Singer, supra note 338, at 178. Rather, “the central realities of incarceration for inmates” include its “crushing routine and relentless boredom.”341Richard A. Wright, Prisons: Prisoners, in Encyclopedia of Crime and Justice 1182, 1182 (Joshua Dressler et al. eds., 2d ed. 2002).

Nearly every aspect of American prisons—from their architecture to their lack of programming—imposes a controlled and dull existence for those imprisoned. “By their very design and aesthetics, the physical buildings and layout of American prisons cultivate feelings of institutionalization, immobilization, and lack of control . . . .”342Delaney et al., supra note 337, at 20. Additionally, “[a]s prison life has become more restricted and punitive, it has simultaneously become more monotonous.”343Id. at 24. Although some jurisdictions have expanded postsecondary-educational opportunities, there has been an overall decline in “opportunities for paid work, as well as rehabilitative, vocational, and postsecondary programming.”344Id. at 25. Opportunities for creativity and innovation are severely lacking,345       Id. and the prison experience is one of “too much drudgery.”346Leah Wang, The State Prison Experience: Too Much Drudgery, Not Enough Opportunity, Prison Pol’y Initiative (Sep. 2, 2022), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2022/09/02/prison_opportunities [https://perma.cc/NU56-5SM3].

The harshest and most severe forms of punishment are worse. Maximum-security prisons are “usually monotonous and boring.”347Wright, supra note 341, at 1184. To the extent that the dullness is interrupted, it is due to “outbursts of violence.”348Id. The “threat of violence is real enough in maximum security prisons to produce a constant undercurrent of tension, fear, and wariness among inmates and staff.”349Id. Solitary confinement, one of the harshest punishments, also incorporates extreme boredom. As Saida Grundy observed, solitary confinement is “specifically designed to numb all of one’s senses and maximize suffering.”350Grundy, supra note 335. In essence, “boredom is an essential quality of one of the most severe forms of punishment.”351Id. (emphasis added). It is unsurprising then that solitary confinement causes such severe developmental harm.352Tiana Herring, The Research Is Clear: Solitary Confinement Causes Long-Lasting Harm, Prison Pol’y Initiative (Dec. 8, 2020), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2020/12/08/solitary_symposium [https://perma.cc/33GL-GUTA]. The acknowledgment of this harm has substantially decreased its use against children353Anne Teigen, Shackling of Juveniles During Court Appearances, Nat’l Conf. St. Legislatures (Apr. 28, 2025), https://www.ncsl.org/research/civil-and-criminal-justice/states-that-limit-or-prohibit-juvenile-shackling-and-solitary-confinement635572628.aspx [https://web.archive.org/web/20250906132846/https://www.ncsl.org/civil-and-criminal-justice/states-that-limit-or-prohibit-juvenile-shackling-and-solitary-confinement]. and should be expanded to others as well, especially emerging adults.

Creative outlets in confinement are essential, particularly for young people who require creative outlets for healthy development. Creativity can be transformative, even lifesaving, for those who are incarcerated. For instance, Reginald Dwayne Betts, a lawyer, scholar, poet, and MacArthur Fellow, was sentenced to a nine-year prison term at the age of sixteen for much of his adolescence and early adulthood.354About, Freedom Reads, https://freedomreads.org/about [https://perma.cc/8QYA-2M2H]. Betts recounted that during his time in prison and solitary confinement,355Id. “reading is where [he] found freedom, and writing is where [he] was able to express [his] individual thought, imagination and creativity.”356Mellon Foundation, Justice Collaboratory Announce Million Book Project, Yale L. Sch. (June 30, 2020), https://law.yale.edu/yls-today/news/mellon-foundation-justice-collaboratory-announce-million-book-project [https://perma.cc/E3ES-LPQP]. After serving his sentence and then attending law school, Betts helped create the Million Book Project to send “a curated 500-book collection to 1,000 medium and maximum security prisons” and “at least one juvenile detention center” in every state.357Id. This mission continues through the nonprofit organization Freedom Reads, which Betts cofounded and serves as executive director.358About, supra note 354.

Studies support Betts’s experience. Art programs in prisons improve individuals’ well-being and reduce recidivism when people leave prison.359Singer, supra note 338, at 198. Participants in art therapy “improved socialization skills, had improved attitudes, and were less depressed.”360Id. Additionally, these programs contributed to a safer prison environment by reducing “prison incidents,” “rules violations,” and violence.361Grigorenko, supra note 339, at 66. Increasing creative opportunities in prison should not detract from efforts to prevent incarceration in the first place. Prisons damage the well-being of those who are incarcerated and are deemed criminogenic. Don Stemen, The Prison Paradox: More Incarceration Will Not Make Us Safer, Vera Inst. of Just., July 2017, at 1, 2, https://www.vera.org/downloads/publications/for-the-record-prison-paradox_02.pdf [https://perma.cc/BC7R-LQFA]. The damage to the developmental health of young people is even more serious. Even short periods of incarceration cause long-term damage to adolescents’ development. Studies Highlight Long Term Health Harms of Juvenile Justice System, Am. Acad. Pediatrics (Jan. 23, 2017), https://services.aap.org/en/news-room/news-releases/pediatrics2/2017/studies-highlight-long-term-health-harms-of-juvenile-justice-system [https://web.archive.org/web/20220618073755/https:/www.aap.org/en/news-room/news-releases/pediatrics2/2017/studies-highlight-long-term-health-harms-of-juvenile-justice-system]; Elizabeth S. Barnert, Rebecca Dudovitz, Bergen B. Nelson, Tumaini R. Coker, Christopher Biely, Ning Li & Paul J. Chung, How Does Incarcerating Young People Affect Their Adult Health Outcomes?, Pediatrics, Feb. 2017, at 1, 7–8 [hereinafter Barnert et al., Incarcerating Young People]; Elizabeth S. Barnert, Laura S. Abrams, Lello Tesema, Rebecca Dudovitz, Bergen B. Nelson, Tumaini Coker, Eraka Bath, Christopher Biely, Ning Li & Paul J. Chung, Child Incarceration and Long-Term Adult Health Outcomes: A Longitudinal Study, 14 Int’l J. Prisoner Health 26, 30–31 (2018) [hereinafter Barnert et al., A Longitudinal Study].

These opportunities for creativity should not detract from efforts to prevent sending people to prison in the first place. Prisons damage the well-being of those who are incarcerated, and the experience of incarceration in the United States is criminogenic.362Stemen, supra note 361, at 2. The damage to the developmental health of young people is even more serious. Even short periods of incarceration cause long-term damage to adolescents’ development.363Studies Highlight Long Term Health Harms of Juvenile Justice System, supra note 361; Barnert et al., Incarcerating Young People, supra note 361, at 7–8; Barnert et al., A Longitudinal Study, supra note 361, at 30–31. Rather, creative expressions and programs can assist with efforts to end mass incarceration and the incarceration of young people. For example, the sale of Roy Lichtenstein Masterpiece led to an endowment of $100 million for Ford Foundation’s Art for Justice Fund, which has the mission to provide art-based grants to reduce mass incarceration.364Robin Pogrebin, Agnes Gund Sells a Lichtenstein to Start Criminal Justice Fund, N.Y. Times (June 11, 2017), https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/11/arts/design/agnes-gund-sells-a-lichtenstein-to-start-criminal-justice-fund.html [https://perma.cc/98N9-43FC]. The organization has funded programs, such as the one between Los Angeles County and its Arts Commissions to create the Arts and Youth Development Project.365Sara Tiano, L.A. County Using Arts to Paint New Picture of Juvenile Justice Reform, Imprint (Dec. 21, 2018, at 08:00 PT), https://imprintnews.org/justice/juvenile-justice-2/l-a-county-using-arts-to-paint-new-picture-of-juvenile-justice-reform/33200 [https://perma.cc/VLQ3-EBPG]. The project sponsors art programs for youth who are at risk of entering the juvenile system, as well as programs for youth who are already incarcerated or in a prediversion program.366Id.

Additionally, protecting young people’s creativity should be prioritized in other forms of carceral control, such as probation, parole, and supervised release. There are approximately 3.7 million people under some form of community supervision.367Probation and Parole, Prison Pol’y Initiative, https://www.prisonpolicy.org/research/probation_and_parole [https://perma.cc/P8CH-3SG7]. Probation is the most common juvenile delinquency disposition.368Easy Access to Juvenile Court Statistics (EZAJCS),        Off. Juv. Just. & Delinq. Prevention, https://ojjdp.ojp.gov/statistical-briefing-book/data-analysis-tools/ezajcs/case-processing [https://perma.cc/DD4E-PS6E]. According to the latest data, 188,200 juvenile delinquency cases had a disposition of probation in 2022.369Id. Community supervision imposes numerous and wide-reaching restrictions and controls over individuals’ lives.370Kate Weisburd, Rights Violations As Punishment, 111 Calif. L. Rev. 1305, 1316 (2023) (summarizing restrictions). These restrictions also limit one’s creativity, as they can dictate who an individual associates with or what type of activity the individual engages in. For example, in one recent federal criminal case, a defendant was arrested for violating the terms of his supervised release for working with people with prior felony convictions to produce and perform rap music that allegedly “promot[ed] and glorifi[ed] future gun violence/murder.”371Ramon Antonio Vargas, Rapper BG Ordered to Have All Future Songs Approved by US Government, Guardian (July 2, 2024, at 06:00 ET), https://www.theguardian.com/music/article/2024/jul/02/rapper-bg-government-song-approval [https://perma.cc/SLJ7-SUR4]. While the court modified the terms to be less restrictive than the prosecutors’ request, it still ordered the defendant to submit his rap lyrics to the government for pre-approval before promoting or producing his songs to ensure that they are not “inconsistent with the goals of rehabilitation.”372Id. These types of conditions directly target and limit one’s creativity and may actually hinder rehabilitation.

Alternatively, as an example of a probation condition that recognizes the importance of youth creativity, one can turn to the program by Creative Justice. This organization, while advocating for the abolition of prisons,373Keeping it 100, Creative Just., https://www.creativejusticenw.org/keepin-it-100 [https://perma.cc/4GA6-SHYE]; Creative Justice: Mentor Artist Search, Creative Just., https://www.creativejusticenw.org/join-the-team [https://perma.cc/YK6L-WTJD]. works within the juvenile system to provide “arts-based healing engaged spaces” for young people such that their “time and creative work can be used in mitigating any active court cases or other systemic burdens they may be facing.”374About Us, Creative Just., https://www.creativejusticenw.org/aboutus [https://perma.cc/WQM8-EQ7M]. In collaboration with mentor artists, these youth “explore the root causes of incarceration, weaving together art, creativity, and restorative justice” for personal and societal change.375Id. Programs like this demonstrate the need for innovative solutions to foster young people’s creativity even while under carceral control. The “window of opportunity” during this life stage can lead to long-lasting changes that contribute to the well-being of individuals and their communities.376Steinberg, supra note 51, at 17. Efforts with a focus on creativity should lead to broader systemic reforms across the entire criminal system.

IV. Creativity and Crime in Schools

Another significant space in which creativity and crime collide for young people is the education system. Applying a developmental framework that prioritizes creativity should expand opportunities in schools for young people to develop and express their creativity. Yet schools are moving in the opposite direction. Alongside a pervasive educational culture marked by widespread boredom and a broader creativity crisis among our youth,377Kim, supra note 45, at 13; Kim, supra note 164, at 21. schools are increasingly adopting criminal processes and entrenching the school-to-prison pipeline, particularly for marginalized youth from poor communities.

This Part first describes this problematic culture of criminalization that has taken hold in the educational system and then proposes ways that schools can instead cultivate a culture of creativity. Expanding students’ creativity not only increases engagement in their education and enhances young people’s well-being, but it also reduces the likelihood of negative risk-taking378See supra notes 48, 148–51 and accompanying text. and becoming entangled in the juvenile or criminal systems. These normative proposals also continue to highlight the close connections between crime and creativity.

A. Culture of Criminalization

A pervasive culture of criminalization characterizes our current educational system, exemplified by the school-to-prison pipeline. This pipeline refers to “policies and practices that systemically push at-risk youth out of mainstream public schools and into the juvenile or criminal justice systems.”379Catherine Y. Kim, Procedures for Public Law Remediation in School-to-Prison Pipeline Litigation: Lessons Learned from Antoine v. Winner School District, 54 N.Y.L. Sch. L. Rev. 955, 956 (2010). This includes “the trend of referring students directly to law enforcement for committing offenses at school or creating conditions that increase the probability of students eventually becoming incarcerated, such as suspending or expelling them.”380Jason P. Nance, Students, Police, and the School-to-Prison Pipeline, 93 Wash. U. L. Rev. 919, 923 (2016).

The relationship between schools and the juvenile and criminal systems has “tightened significantly” over the recent decades.381Michael Heise & Jason P. Nance, “Defund the (School) Police”? Bringing Data to Key School-to-Prison Pipeline Claims, 111 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 717, 724 (2021). There is more reliance on criminal tools and processes, such as the increased usage of surveillance, school resource officers (“SROs”) or police officers, and school disciplinary processes that heighten the risk of youth involvement in the criminal or juvenile systems.382Id. at 725–26. Furthermore, the expanding creation and enforcement of “disturbing school statutes” are being used to criminalize or harshly discipline “common adolescent misbehavior, such as texting and refusing to hand over a cell phone, burping, using perfume, throwing a paper airplane, stealing a beef patty, [and] writing on desks.”383Jason P. Nance & Michael Heise, Law Enforcement Officers, Students, and the School-to-Prison Pipeline: A Longitudinal Perspective, 54 Ariz. St. L.J. 527, 537 (2022). These offenses and crimes such as “insubordination” or “willful defiance” are inherently difficult to define.384Libby Nelson & Dara Lind, The School-To-Prison Pipeline, Explained, Vox (Oct. 27, 2015, at 08:05 PT), https://www.vox.com/2015/2/24/8101289 [https://web.archive.org/web/20260215165048/https://www.vox.com/2015/2/24/8101289/school-discipline-race].

Such statutes are also the common reason for punitive actions. For example, 40% of all school suspensions during the 2010 to 2011 school year in California were for “willful defiance,” which is defined in part as “any behavior that disrupts a classroom.”385Id. In New York City public schools, “insubordination” was the most cited reason for suspensions in the 2013 to 2014 school year.386Id. Again, it is these “tough-to-define”387Id. offenses that, consistent with other disorderly conduct offenses, give wide latitude to decisionmakers,388Moran, supra note 212, at 88. like school administrators or SROs, to determine if young people’s actions are creative or criminal.

Moreover, zero-tolerance policies, which were ushered in by the national Gun-Free Schools Act of 1994,389Gun-Free Schools Act of 1994, Pub. L. No. 103-382, sec. 14601, § 101, 108 Stat. 3907, 3907–08 (codified at 20 U.S.C. § 8921 (2001)). also create an “extreme category of exclusionary discipline.”390Heise & Nance, supra note 381, at 727; Nance, supra note 380, at 933. Under this Act, as a condition for receiving federal funds, states were required to pass laws that mandated schools to expel students for at least one year if they brought guns to school.391Nance, supra note 380, at 933. The enforcement of this Act, however, was inconsistent, with students being expelled or sent to authorities for bringing “butter knives (for sandwiches), plastic toy guns, or Swiss Army knives, and for swearing or engaging in any behavior considered disruptive by school officials.”392Bettina L. Love, Punished for Dreaming: How School Reform Harms Black Children and How We Heal 157–58. (2023). This federal policy then spurred local and state zero-tolerance policies that mandated expulsion or discipline for other actions, such as “possession of drugs, alcohol, or tobacco; fighting; dress-code violations; truancy; and tardiness.”393Nance, supra note 380, at 933.

 It is sadly ironic that, as Bettina L. Love opined, the very creativity that young Black students expressed through hip-hop was used against them to create stereotypes that helped justify and spur these punitive school reforms in the 1980s and 1990s that then continue to restrict their creativity and enable its continued criminalization.394Bettina Love, How Public Education Nearly Killed Hip-Hop in the Cradle, Daily Beast (Sep. 22, 2023, at 21:02 ET), https://www.thedailybeast.com/how-public-education-nearly-killed-hip-hop-in-the-cradle [https://web.archive.org/web/20251017035901/https://www.thedailybeast.com/how-public-education-nearly-killed-hip-hop-in-the-cradle]; see also Love, supra note 392, at 157–58. The Black children who helped make hip-hop a celebrated worldwide “cultural phenomenon” were contemporaneously “punished . . . for the very creativity they expressed in hip-hop.”395Love, supra note 394. They were called “super predators,” “crack babies,” and “thugs,” and their “youth culture” was upended “to reinforce these labels, not just outside of school but, more perniciously, inside school.”396Id. The very stereotypes that supported police brutality in their communities also justified such practices in their schools.397Id. They “were no longer children but pre-criminals. Schools were no longer schools but pipelines to prison.”398Id.

Together, these laws, policies, and practices have made it easier and more common for students to be directly referred to the juvenile or criminal systems. For example, there is evidence “that a school’s SRO/police presence corresponds with an increased likelihood that the school will report student incidents to law enforcement agencies.”399Heise & Nance, supra note 381, at 718. One study showed that schools with police officers or SROs have had “five times as many arrests for ‘disorderly conduct’ as schools without them.”400Nelson & Lind, supra note 384. Even if they are not directly referred, internal school disciplinary proceedings, such as suspensions or expulsions, increase the risk that youth will eventually become part of the juvenile or criminal system.401Id. Merely attending a middle school with more suspensions—even if the students themselves are not suspended—increases the likelihood that they will be involved in adult crime, arrested, and incarcerated, and less likely that they will finish high school and attend college.402Andrew Bacher-Hicks, Stephen B. Billings & David J. Deming, Proving the School-to-Prison Pipeline, Educ. Next, Fall 2021, at 52, 52. Moreover, some contend that these processes themselves “contribute to a quasi-prison-like environment” directly within schools.403Heise & Nance, supra note 381, at 725.

The school-to-prison pipeline also disproportionately impacts youth of color. There is “[a]bundant empirical evidence” that shows that youth of color are “disproportionately represented throughout every stage” of this pipeline.404Nance, supra note 380, at 924; see also Kim, supra note 379, at 957. This includes more frequent and more severe disciplinary actions within schools and high rates of arrest and convictions in the juvenile and criminal systems.405Nance, supra note 380, at 925. Schools with a larger proportion of marginalized students also have higher rates of surveillance, even after controlling for other factors such as “student poverty, . . . [performance] . . . on academic assessments, school crime, school disorder and disciplinary problems, and school administrators’ perceptions of the level of criminal activity in the surrounding neighborhoods.”406Heise & Nance, supra note 381, at 728–29. Racial disparities are also present in suspending and expelling students, even after “controlling for factors such as student misbehavior, poverty, academic achievement, neighborhood context, and district and school characteristics.”407Id. at 729. Other empirical research has shown more nuance, with studies showing no racial disparity against Black students “for more serious and objectively defined offenses, especially when discipline is mandated for engaging in such offenses,” but racial disparities manifesting when the offense is less serious or when “discipline is discretionary.”408Id. at 729–30. This study is consistent with scholars’ observations about the heightened discretion inherent in disorderly conduct offenses that enhances the effects of biases.409Moran, supra note 212, at 88.

Significant changes are required as education remains one of the most effective ways for youth to avoid engaging in adult crime or becoming enmeshed in the juvenile or criminal systems. Attending a “higher-quality school” and completing high school lessen the risk of future criminal activity.410Bacher-Hicks et al., supra note 402, at 52. For Black youth, those who do not graduate high school have an approximately “70 percent cumulative risk of imprisonment.”411Melissa S. Kearney, Benjamin H. Harris, Elisa Jácome & Lucie Parker, Ten Economic Facts About Crime and Incarceration in the United States, Hamilton Project, May 2014, at 1, 11, https://www.hamiltonproject.org/assets/legacy/files/downloads_and_links/v8_THP_10CrimeFacts.pdf [https://perma.cc/D6ST-3HQM]. Merely increasing the minimum dropout age, such as raising the age from sixteen to eighteen, has “a significant and negative effect on juvenile crime.”412D. Mark Anderson, In School and Out of Trouble? The Minimum Dropout Age and Juvenile Crime, 96 Rev. Econ. & Stat. 318, 329 (2014). It particularly reduces property and violent crimes for those in high school.413Id. at 318, 329. Studies show that those in prison also generally have less education.414Lois M. Davis, Jennifer L. Steele, Robert Bozick, Malcolm V. Williams, Susan Turner, Jeremy N.V. Miles, Jessica Saunders & Paul S. Steinberg, How Effective Is Correctional Education, and Where Do We Go from Here? 1 (2014). Meanwhile, youths who experience juvenile detention or incarceration are less likely to attend high school, and they experience higher risk of being imprisoned as an adult,415Anna Aizer & Joseph J. Doyle, Jr., Juvenile Incarceration, Human Capital, and Future Crime: Evidence from Randomly Assigned Judges, 130 Q.J. Econ. 759, 759 (2015). again highlighting another close connection between schools and crime.

Therefore, applying a developmental framework that prioritizes young people’s creativity involves not only dismantling the school-to-prison pipeline, but also encouraging their engagement in schools and supporting their eventual graduation. One effective approach is to create more opportunities for creative expression in their education.

B. Creating a Culture of Creativity

Schools not only influence young people’s paths toward or away from crime, but schools also play a crucial role in guiding their creativity. Education is, in fact, “essential to creativity.”416R. Keith Sawyer, Explaining Creativity: The Science of Human Innovation 390 (2d ed. 2012). Since creativity “requires a high degree of domain knowledge,” schools are vital in facilitating this attainment.417Id. Transforming schools into more creative spaces can motivate students to care about their education, remain in school, and also reduce the likelihood that they will enter the criminal or juvenile systems.

Many scholars, however, hold the current educational system largely responsible for contributing to the “creativity crisis” among youth in America.418Kim, supra note 45, at 13. In both secondary and higher education, creativity is generally not prioritized and, at times, is actively undermined. Kim, who has documented the decline in creative thinking among K-12 students, points to an overemphasis on standardized testing and test-taking skills in classrooms as a major contributing factor to this decline.419Id. at 17–21. She is not alone in her critique.

Regarding high schools, Steinberg observed that except for the “very best American students—the ones in [Advanced Placement] classes who are bound for the nation’s most selective colleges and universities—high school is tedious and unchallenging.”420Steinberg, supra note 51, at 143. Research shows that adolescents are most bored when they are in school, and that their “moods improve dramatically around 3:00 p.m. and toward the end of the week, as the weekend approaches.”421Id. According to surveys, most high schoolers shared that “they are just going through the motions at school, calibrating their level of effort to ensure that they do well enough to stay out of academic trouble,” while one-third responded “that they have little interest in school and get through the day by fooling around with their friends.”422Id. Compared with other countries, American schools are generally “more boring.”423Id. In one study, more than 80% of international students who studied in American high schools found them less challenging than schools in their home countries.424Id. This issue persists in higher education. Overall, colleges and universities provide “little support for creative students.”425Arthur J. Cropley, Creativity in the Classroom: The Dark Side, in The Dark Side of Creativity, supra note 4, at 297, 300. The admissions criteria for college also do not adequately assess students’ creativity and, therefore, miss opportunities to admit and enroll “daring [and] imaginative thinkers.”426Colin Poitras, Creativity Found Lacking in College Admissions Process, UConn Today (Jan. 20, 2016), https://today.uconn.edu/2016/01/creativity-found-lacking-in-college-admissions-process [https://perma.cc/QY9M-PCSX]; Jean E. Pretz & James C. Kaufman, Do Traditional Admissions Criteria Reflect Applicant Creativity?, 51 J. Creative Behav. 240 (2015).

Increasing creativity in schools is a challenge when the very model and structure of the American educational system were not designed with this goal in mind. Instead, this system is based on an industrial model. The “[s]ystems of mass education were designed to mold students to certain requirements.”427Robinson & Aronica, supra note 16, at 35. Like “typical factories, high schools and higher education in particular are organized around the division of labor.”428Id. The typical school day is “segmented into regular chunks of time” and teachers “specialize in particular subjects.”429Id. at 35–36. Similarly, “[i]ndustrial processes demand compliance with specific rules and standards.”430Id. at 35. This is echoed in the “standards movement” in education, which requires “compliance in curriculum, teaching, and assessment.”431Id.

Moreover, in most K-12 classrooms, students are placed in small classrooms, “often are required to work quietly and individually,” and work on “problems that have already been solved” or have “one correct or expected way of completing them.”432Ronald A. Beghetto, Creativity in K-12 Schools, in Creativity: An Introduction, supra note 3, at 224, 225. There is “continuous monitoring and assessment of students and teachers,” which reinforces conformity and monotony.433Id. Although teachers may claim to value creativity and creative students, they often “dislike characteristics associated with creativity” such as nonconformity.434Cropley, supra note 425, at 297. As a result, many creative students find the standardized methods of teaching not only unhelpful, but also “distracting.”435Nancy C. Andreasen, Secrets of the Creative Brain, Atl. (July/Aug. 2014), https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2014/07/secrets-of-the-creative-brain/372299 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250925103459/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2014/07/secrets-of-the-creative-brain/372299]. These issues are even more pronounced in schools in poor, marginalized communities. Students contend with minimal resources, violence, and chronic disengagement. Such schools not only function as pipelines to prison but also increasingly mirror prison-like environments, characterized by disorder, apathy, and lack of meaningful opportunities for growth.436Jyoti Nanda, Web of Incarceration: School-Based Probation, 21 Nev. L.J. 1117, 1124–31 (2021); LaToya Baldwin Clark, Barbed Wire Fences: The Structural Violence of Education Law, 89 U. Chi. L. Rev. 499, 508 (2022); see also Kerryn Dixon & Hilary Janks, Location and Dislocation: Spatiality and Transformation in Higher Education, in Transforming Transformation in Research and Teaching at South African Universities 89, 91 (Rob Pattman & Ronelle Carolissen eds., 2018) (stating Michel Foucault’s theory that “schools serve the same social functions as prisons” in that they also “define, classify, control and regulate people”).

An increasing number of students and their families are opting to leave traditional schooling.437Peter Jamison, Laura Meckler, Prayag Gordy, Clara Ence Morse & Chris Alcantara, Home Schooling’s Rise from Fringe to Fastest-Growing Form of Education, Wash. Post (Oct. 31, 2023, at 07:00 PT), https://www.washingtonpost.com/education/interactive/2023/homeschooling-growth-data-by-district [https://perma.cc/VGG6-9H9E]. Families from diverse backgrounds and regions of the country are turning to homeschooling, now recognized as the “fastest-growing form of education.”438Id. While motivations for homeschooling vary—ranging from educational and religious reasons, to minimizing racism439Brian D. Ray, Home Schooling: The Ameliorator of Negative Influences on Learning?, 75 Peabody J. Educ. 71, 95–99 (2000); Char Adams, Black Families Are Changing the Educational Landscape Through Communal Home-Schooling, NBC News (Feb. 8, 2023, at 09:53 PT), https://www.nbcnews.com/news/nbcblk/black-families-are-challenging-educations-status-quo-home-schooling-rcna69027 [https://perma.cc/78CD-MXTV]. —there is evidence that homeschooling fosters creativity in youth, both in the United States and abroad.440Ray, supra note 439, at 96; Richard G. Medlin, Creativity in Home Schooled Children, Nat’l Home Educ. Rsch. Inst. (Jan. 10, 1996), https://nheri.org/home-school-researcher-creativity-in-home-schooled-children [https://perma.cc/P3GY-5YTM]; Michal Unger Madar & Iri BenDavid-Hadar, Does Home Schooling Improve Creative Thinking and Social Competencies Among Children? Home Schooling in Israel, 16 J. Sch. Choice 136 (2022). Other nontraditional schools take different approaches, such as incorporating a “democratic process” in which students decide what they want to learn, changing the educational environment into “one of adventure and discovery rather than stricture.”441Robinson & Aronica, supra note 16, at 154–55. Meanwhile, the “Slow Education” model emphasizes giving students the “space and the time to discover their passions and their strengths.”442Id. at 93. The model was developed by Joe Harrison while working for Creative Partnerships, a government program in the United Kingdom designed to increase creativity in schools.443Id. at 91.

However, access to nontraditional and alternative educational models is limited. Schools that adopt a democratic process are mostly private schools.444Id. at 153. Similarly, the Slow Education model requires that the “school and community devote[] time to learn who each individual student [is] and what they [are] about, and to create programs geared to specific interests, and capacities.”445Id. at 92–93. Unfortunately, many schools lack the resources and time to implement these approaches, and many families cannot afford private schools or homeschooling.

Incremental changes, however, can be introduced in both secondary and higher education. Increasing creativity in schools does not mean eliminating standards or encouraging “antisocial behavior.”446Id. at 36. Instead, the singular focus on conformity—or “judg[ing] students by a single standard of ability”—should be reduced.447Id. To do so, schools should celebrate the diversity of “individual talents” among their students.448Id.

Also, while there is a movement toward teachers using scripted materials, they can also reduce “improvised, creative, collaborative learning.”449R. Keith Sawyer, What Makes Good Teachers Great? The Artful Balance of Structure and Improvisation, in Structure and Improvisation in Creative Teaching 1, 3, 21 (R. Keith Sawyer ed., 2011). As creativity expert and professor Keith Sawyer recommended, while teachers should be experts in their subject matters and can use scripted materials, they must also create space for improvisation—both among students and between the teacher and students.450Id. at 10.

As “[t]he real driver of creativity is an appetite for discovery and a passion for the work itself,” teachers and schools should explore creative ways to motivate students to learn.451Robinson & Aronica, supra note 16, at 120. A meta-analysis of adolescent creativity found that key educational factors that best support creativity include “balancing freedom and necessary guidance; flexible, open-ended activities with clear learning expectations; openness to and encouragement of student ideas; an atmosphere of trust and respect; and varied learning resources.”452Van der Zanden et al., supra note 3, at 1. The paper also identified individual, parental, and social contextual factors. Id. For example, individual factors include “openness to experience, intrinsic motivation, creative self-efficacy, attributing adversity to external factors, and academic achievement.” Id. Parental factors include “parental support and autonomous motivation with maternal involvement.” Id. Social contextual factors include “providing interactions that encourage expression or challenging of ideas; and encouraging adolescents to view issues from multiple global and temporal perspectives.” Id. Implementing the “seven habits of mind”—“posing questions, play, immersion, innovation, risk taking, being imaginative, and self-determination”—also increases creativity.453Sawyer, supra note 449, at 10.

High schools and colleges can also foster creativity by “role model[ing] creativity.”454Sternberg, supra note 171, at 282. The “most compelling way” to inspire creativity is to model it.455Id. Additionally, “teaching students to cross-fertilize their thinking across various disciplines” and to connect these ideas to personal interests are important.456Id. at 282–83. Projects and assignments that provide students time to be creative, work with others to be in “creative collaboration,” assess and reward creativity, are also effective.457Id. at 283–84.

Prioritizing creativity in young people’s educational environments can inspire positive risk-taking, reduce negative risk-taking, and enhance their overall well-being. It encourages them to remain in school and graduate, thereby decreasing their risk of entering the juvenile and criminal systems. In addition to dismantling the school-to-prison pipeline and eliminating biases that mischaracterize students’ creativity as criminality, schools should make intentional efforts to prioritize and cultivate creativity among their students.

Conclusion

The significant overlap between creativity and crime presents both a challenge and an opportunity. As the two are deeply intertwined, they can easily be mischaracterized, with creative actions labeled as criminal ones or construed as evidence of one’s criminality. This issue is particularly salient for young people, whose developmental traits heighten both types of behaviors and who are at a critical stage for cultivating their creative identity.

As the developmental framework increasingly shapes laws and policies affecting adolescents and emerging adults, prioritizing creativity is imperative. This Article examined how centering creativity should change how young people are prosecuted and punished for crimes or offenses, as well as how they are educated. Addressing biases and adopting laws, policies, and practices that deter the criminalization of creativity and recognize creativity as an integral factor of young people’s development will not only advance the main goal of the developmental framework—the well-being of adolescents and emerging adults—but also lay the groundwork for broader systemic changes that benefit society as a whole.

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 499

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* Associate Professor of Law, Arizona State University, Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law. For their generous insights and comments, the author thanks Chaz Arnett, Rachel Barkow, Alyse Bertenthal, Emily Buss, Sheldon Evans, Trevor Gardner, Josh Gupta-Kagan, Vivian Hamilton, Elizabeth Scott, Ronald Wright, and the participants of the ABA-AALS Criminal Justice Roundtables; the AALS Family and Juvenile Law Section Works-in-Progress Session, The Future of Family Law; Culp Colloquium at Duke University School of Law; CrimFest; the University of Ottawa Public Law Centre Criminal Law Workshop; the University of Arizona/Arizona State University Junior Faculty Workshop; and the Wake Forest University School of Law Juniors Workshop. The author also thanks Donny Stewart and Haley Potter for their excellent research assistance, and the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their excellent editorial work.

Beyond Sharenting

Sharenting—the practice of parents sharing information about their children online—has become mainstream in American society. While most forms of sharenting may be considered benign or even beneficial, some parents harm or exploit their children when sharing online. For example, “mom-influencers” often violate their children’s privacy in their attempts to attract followers to their social media accounts. While traditional forms of parental sharing raise privacy concerns, we are only beginning to understand the dangers and impacts of widespread exposure of children on social media.

This Article is the first to propose a welfare model of child protection to address exploitative and harmful parental online conduct. The state, through its parens patriae power, already regulates parents who harm children in the brick-and-mortar world. The state must exercise that same power to protect children in the virtual world. This Article offers comprehensive solutions grounded in constitutional law principles that balance the parental right to control the upbringing of their children and to free expression with the state’s interest in protecting vulnerable children from harmful and exploitative online conduct. When parents go “beyond sharenting,” the state must be prepared to step in and protect vulnerable children.

Introduction

Mia is a seven-year-old girl growing up in Orlando, Florida.1Hypothetical child. The following fact pattern is a hypothetical based on a composite of real-life events. Her mother, Savannah, is a stay-at-home mother, and her father, John, is a successful businessman.2Hypothetical parents. Savannah is very active on social media. She has a public Instagram account and considers herself an influencer. Many lingerie brands pay her to model their clothing, and she often poses in pajamas alongside her daughter.3This is a common practice. See, e.g., Danya Hajjaji, Mom Selling Modeling Photos of Young Daughter Sparks Outrage, Newsweek (Apr. 5, 2022, 6:48 AM), https://www.newsweek.com/mom-selling-modeling-photos-young-daughter-sparks-outrage-tiktok-1694668 [https://perma.cc/VMZ3-GF2C] (“The website in question promotes an aspiring child actress, and is run by a woman named Hannah Naeli on behalf of her young daughter.”). Recently, a lingerie company from overseas offered Savannah money to have Mia also pose in their clothing. Savannah said yes. Over the next few weeks, she begins receiving the nighties—matching lingerie Savannah regularly models but in less revealing cuts. Savannah has Mia try some on, and while it covers her private areas, it highly sexualizes the little girl, with the matching prints suggesting her eventual graduation to those more mature silhouettes. Savannah tells Mia that she will get extra dessert for each outfit she agrees to model. The pair often model the outfits in pictures and videos together, sometimes wearing the outfits while reading together in bed, having pillow fights, or being playful around the house—always in clearly intimate but arguably appropriate settings.

Savannah’s social media page explodes with new followers. Based on their profiles, many of these followers appear to be grown men.4Hypothetical audience, but this is commonplace on real social media accounts. See, e.g., Catherine Ferris, Woman Exposes ‘Creeps’ That Follow Children on Social Media in Viral Video, Newsweek (Mar. 7, 2022, 5:49 PM), https://www.newsweek.com/woman-exposes-creeps-that-follow-children-social-media-viral-video-1685701 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250904015419/https://www.newsweek.com/woman-exposes-creeps-that-follow-children-social-media-viral-video-1685701] (“One account that she visited did not have any photos and was following 11 other accounts, all of which were young girls. ‘I’ve also noticed that a lot of these creeps are using the number 69 in their handle. . . .’ ”) (quoting TikTok user Sarah Adams. Images of Mia receive hundreds of likes and multiple comments, some of which seem inappropriate.5Fictional audience. Some pictures of children have garnered comments like “Perfect bikini body,” “Mmmmmmmmm take that bikini off,” and “You’re sooooo hot.” Jennifer Valentino-DeVries & Michael H. Keller, A Marketplace of Girl Influencers Managed by Moms and Stalked by Men, N.Y. Times (Feb. 22, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/22/us/instagram-child-influencers.html [https://perma.cc/GJ34-6N5F] (“ ‘I think they’re all pedophiles,’ she said of the many online followers obsessed with her daughter and other young girls.”). Savannah deletes the most inappropriate comments, but she leaves others, hoping to increase the engagement on her page.6“The large audiences boosted by men can benefit the families . . . . The bigger followings look impressive to brands and bolster chances of getting discounts, products and other financial incentives, and the accounts themselves are rewarded by Instagram’s algorithm with greater visibility on the platform, which in turn attracts more followers.” Id. As Savannah’s social media following grows, so too does the amount of money the lingerie company pays her per outfit modeled.

Mia tells her teacher, Ms. Drake, about the social media page. Ms. Drake speaks with the school administrators and shows them the mother’s Instagram page. The school reaches out to Mia’s mother, Savannah, and to Mia’s father, John, to implore them to reconsider sharing the photos, to no avail. Savannah keeps sharing.

Ms. Drake sees this as a potential form of abuse and neglect7Fla. Dep’t of Child. & Fams., Reporting Abuse of Children and Vulnerable Adults 6 (2013), https://www.myflfamilies.com/sites/default/files/2022-10/mandatedreporters.pdf [https://perma.cc/4AN6-A3J2].

“Abuse” means any willful act or threatened act that results in any physical, mental, or sexual abuse, injury, or harm that causes or is likely to cause the child’s physical, mental, or emotional health to be significantly impaired. . . . “Neglect” occurs when . . . a child is permitted to live in an environment when such deprivation or environment causes the child’s physical, mental, or emotional health to be significantly impaired or to be in danger of being significantly impaired.

Id.
and, according to her obligation as a mandatory reporter, she wants to call in an abuse report on the mother as she worries for Mia’s safety and privacy.8In most states, school administrators are required to report all suspected abuse and neglect. See id. at 4; Child Welfare Info. Gateway, Mandatory Reporting of Child Abuse and Neglect 2 (2023) (noting that teachers, principals, and other school personnel are mandated reporters in forty-four states). She makes the hotline call to the state’s central abuse registry.9Fla. Dep’t of Child. & Fams., supra note 7, at 9. She provides information and even emails the registry pictures, but the intake counselor declines to accept the hotline call.10Id. The counselor explains that posting the pictures is not grounds for an abuse, abandonment, or neglect investigation.11Id. The parent is simply sharenting, the counselor explains, and that is within a parent’s right to do so as they see fit.12Id. at 6. There is nothing the intake counselor believes she can do.13Id.; Safety & Protection, Fla. Dep’t of Child. & Fams., https://www.myflfamilies.com/services/abuse [https://perma.cc/7RGK-W4T7] (“The Florida Abuse Hotline Counselor will determine if the information provided meets legal requirements to accept a report for investigation.”).

Parents in the United States do, in fact, have almost unfettered discretion when it comes to sharing about their children.14Stacey B. Steinberg, Sharenting: Children’s Privacy in the Age of Social Media, 66 Emory L.J. 839, 882 (2017). And our legal system is ill-equipped to protect children like Mia.15Id. at 867–77. Unless Savannah agrees on her own to stop sharing these inappropriate pictures of her daughter, they will continue to be shared. Images already online can be saved and reshared by strangers, and Mia’s digital footprint may always be marred with traces of her mother’s online conduct.16Morgan Sung, Their Children Went Viral. Now They Wish They Could Wipe Them from the Internet., NBC News (Nov. 3, 2022, 5:30 AM), https://www.nbcnews.com/pop-culture/influencers-parents-posting-kids-online-privacy-security-concerns-rcna55318 [https://perma.cc/5T45-987H]. And, while parents have been sharing images of their children with the public long before the creation of the Internet, the life of online images is likely to long outlast Mia’s childhood.17Id. (“Now 23, Cam, who didn’t want to be referred to by their full name out of concern for their privacy, said their needs were often sidelined by their mother’s constantly posting about them on MySpace and Facebook in the late 2000s to the early 2010s. It has taken a toll on their mental health and shaped how they navigate their own social media presence.”).

As I have described previously, sharenting, or the practice of parents sharing information about their children online, has become mainstream in American society.18Steinberg, supra note 14, at 842. Parents post information about their children on various platforms, often with the goal of connecting and sharing about their lives with family and friends.19Id.; see also Tara Haelle, Do Parents Invade Children’s Privacy When They Post Photos Online?, NPR (Oct. 28, 2016, 5:00 AM), https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2016/10/28/499595298/do-parents-invade-childrens-privacy-when-they-post-photos-online [https://perma.cc/E5NX-BJHF]. While most parents share with the intention that their pictures and stories reach a limited audience,20Steinberg, supra note 14, at 850. others share publicly.21Id.  at 880 (“Despite the risks, many parents will choose to blog about their children publicly.”); see also Sung, supra note 16.

Cam said their mother began posting photos and videos of them on MySpace when they were in the second grade. They didn’t comprehend how many people were watching them grow up, Cam said, until their mother joined Facebook. Cam assumed that their mother knew her thousands of “friends” personally, so they often accepted requests from random adults because their mother was a mutual friend. As a result, they’d sometimes receive disturbing messages. “I remember I was 12 years old, and I was riding my bike with my friends around the town that we lived in at the time and getting a Facebook message the day after saying, ‘Hey, I saw you riding your bike,’ “ Cam said. “And it was from an older man, and it was just very uncomfortable.”

Sung, supra note 16.
Furthermore, some parents gain financial or social capital through sharing, and children may lose their current and future sense of privacy and autonomy as a result. The children may be pressured into allowing themselves to be recorded in uncomfortable ways or photographed in embarrassing situations. This sharing is at times exploitative, and it is likely more harmful than more personal forms of sharing—that of noninvasive photos and memories among family and friends.22Until recently, parents were unaware of the complexities and risks that social media fame could create for their children. While many influencer parents now intend for their child to go viral, for a time there was a grey area where children of non-influencer parents unexpectedly went viral due to the actions of their parents. See Sung, supra note 16.

The public, as well as many academics working in this space, refer to parents who share detailed information about their family in public ways as “mom-influencers,”23“Mom-influencer” is not a word recognized by most dictionaries. “Mumfluencer” has been proposed as a new word and, according to Collinsdictionary.com, is being monitored for evidence of usage. Mumfluencer, Collins Dictionary (Dec. 27, 2019), https://www.collinsdictionary.com/us/submission/21916/mumfluencer [https://perma.cc/5ATL-SEAX]. and the children are referred to as “kid-influencers.”24“Kid-influencer” is not a word recognized by most dictionaries. “Kidfluencer” has been proposed as a new word and, according to Collinsdictionary.com, is being monitored for evidence of usage. Kidfluencer, Collins Dictionary (June 04, 2019), https://www.collinsdictionary.com/us/submission/21204/kidfluencer [https://perma.cc/4SVJ-K24F]. These parents may be well-meaning, but their actions can present significant danger.25See Sung, supra note 16; see also Amanda McMaster & Yi-Jin Yu, Mom Influencer Opens Up About Why She Erased Her Kids’ Faces from Social Media, ABC News (Feb. 17, 2022), https://abcnews.go.com/GMA/Family/mom-influencer-opens-erased-kids-faces-social-media/story?id=82928115 [https://perma.cc/MZP5-3SEK].

Four years ago, Katy Rose Prichard decided to become a mom influencer. She’d seen other influencers on social media and just had her first child.

 

Prichard started a blog and began posting photos of her growing family on her Instagram page. She soon started working with brands and other small businesses, growing her Instagram following to nearly 100,000 followers.

 

But two months ago, the mom of four from Oklahoma learned of a sinister social media trend that completely changed her perspective, driving her to take down past photos of her children and revamp her approach to her influencer business.

 

The trend is known as “role playing” and as Prichard explained, it’s the practice of stealing photos of others on social media and creating new, fake accounts with made-up stories and identities.

 

When her daughter showed her another account that looked like hers and used her photos, Prichard said she was terrified.

McMaster & Yu, supra note 25.
Legal remedies do not exist to protect children whose parents overshare online, and as such, these children are left at risk for abuse and exploitation.26This is one way that sharenting online is different and more dangerous than traditional forms of sharenting in publications—there is no path to accountability or form of legal recourse that could be used against a parent who publishes as there are against legacy media organizations or outside actors who take advantage of or otherwise harm their subjects. See Steinberg, supra note 14, at 867 (“While there are laws in place that protect an individual’s privacy in some circumstances, laws do little to protect children from parental oversharing.”).

In the United States, parents are primarily responsible for the well-being of their children, and the government will only intercede in the most necessary of circumstances.27onrad G. Paulsen, The Legal Framework for Child Protection, 66 Colum. L. Rev. 679, 679 (1966).

In America, raising children is the business of parents, not of government. Hence, the law normally gives to parents the custody of children, and relies on parental love to call forth the care and protection a child requires. An act of child abuse, therefore, takes place in a setting which the legal system itself has arranged. In every state, however, the law has provided for intervention by society when parental care is dangerously faulty or insufficient.

Id. But the application of state power in the child welfare system is often uneven and weaponized especially against Black families and poor families. Critics like Dorothy Roberts importantly point out that, while the child welfare system

[P]urports to keep children safe [but] instead does the exact opposite, tearing [children] away from family and community and leading to their continued contact with the prison-industrial complex. Roberts analyzes this foster care-to-prison pipeline closely: “Just as the child welfare system entangles Black parents in a carceral web, so it throws many Black children into encounters with police officers and on a path to arrest, detention, and imprisonment.” These carceral entanglements are only one part of a greater “foster-industrial complex,” she explains, in which the child welfare system collaborates with other systems of regulation, sharing information, engaging in common training, and cooperating in investigations, creating what Roberts identifies as a frightening web of surveillance. According to Roberts, “Precisely because it seems to operate outside criminal law enforcement, the child welfare system has become an extremely useful arm of the carceral state. For it has the power to intensively monitor entire communities, all the while escaping public scrutiny and bypassing legal protections by claiming to protect the children of those communities.”

Sophia Ramirez, Benevolent Terror: Dorothy E. Roberts on Reimagining the Child Welfare System, PEN Am. (June 15, 2022) (quoting PEN America, Dorothy E. Roberts on Ending the Child Welfare System to Build Safer Futures, Works of Justice (June 16, 2022)), https://pen.org/benevolent-terror-dorothy-e-roberts-on-reimagining-the-child-welfare-system [https://perma.cc/953L-RYH2].
For example, parents can generally discipline their children as they see fit.28Paulsen, supra note 27, at 686.

Parents may, without exposing themselves to criminal liability, heed the warning, “spare the rod and spoil the child,” because of the parental privilege to discipline one’s offspring. The privilege, codified in New York as a justification for the use of force or violence upon the person of a child provides: “force or violence . . . is not unlawful . . . when committed by a parent . . . to restrain or correct his child . . . and the force or violence used is reasonable in manner and moderate in degree.” A California provision extends even further, and excuses homicide when “committed by accident and misfortune, in lawfully correcting a child or servant.”

Id. (footnotes omitted) (first quoting N.Y. Pen. Law § 246; then quoting Cal. Penal Code § 195).

These laws are quoted in this footnote as they existed in 1966, at the time of publication of the article. Id. The laws have become less broad over time, allowing for the state to intervene more frequently when parents cross from discipline into abuse. See e.g., Fla. Dep’t Child. & Families, supra note 7, at 6 (“Corporal discipline of a child by a parent or legal custodian for disciplinary purposes does not in itself constitute abuse when it does not result in harm to the child.”).
However, they may not physically abuse their children without facing legal consequences. But this was not always the case. In 1800, spanking a child lightly and beating a child both fell under the penumbra of parental rights.29Paulsen, supra note 27, at 699. But today, two penumbras exist.30Id. at 687 (“The ‘modern’ or ‘objective’ rule holds the defendant to an ‘external standard of what is reasonable under the circumstances,’ and imposes liability for purposefully, knowingly, recklessly, or negligently using excessive force on a child. This rule, clearly the majority view, allows only for such punishment of a child as is reasonable under the facts and circumstances, and leaves it to the jury to determine the reasonableness of the discipline.”) (quoting William L. Prosser, Handbook of the Law of Torts 140 (3d ed. 1964)) (footnotes omitted). Parents may use corporal punishment only to the extent permitted by law.31See, e.g., Fla. Stat. § 827.03 (1975). Recognizing that parental rights must be balanced against the state’s parens patriae powers, states have laws that allow parents to use reasonable corporal punishment on their children but prohibit child abuse, which is often understood as excessive (and unreasonable) corporal punishment.32See Raford v. State, 828 So. 2d 1012, 1020–21 (Fla. 2002) (“Courts and legislative bodies have repeatedly recognized the difficulty in delineating a precise line between permissible corporal punishment and prohibited child abuse. See, e.g., McDonald, 785 So.2d at 647; Corsen, 784 So.2d at 536; Moakley v. State, 547 So.2d 1246, 1247 (Fla. 5th DCA 1989); cf. S.L. v. Dep’t of Children & Families, 787 So.2d 973, 974 (Fla. 5th DCA 2001) (recognizing in dependency case the ‘delicate balance between the fundamental rights of parents to raise and discipline their children and the need to protect children from abuse’). However, we conclude that this difficult task is principally a legislative function, better left to the Legislature.”) (first citing State v. McDonald, 785 So. 2d 640, 647 (Fla. 2001); then citing Corsen v. State, 784 So. 2d 535, 536 (Fla. 2001); then citing Moakley v. State, 547 So. 2d 1246, 1247 (Fla. 5th DCA 1989); and then citing S.L. v. Dep’t of Child. & Families, 787 So.2d 973, 974 (Fla. 5th DCA 2001). When parental conduct goes beyond mere corporal punishment, parents are under the second penumbra, child abuse, and may face criminal and civil prosecution.33See, e.g., Fla. Stat § 827.03 (2018); id. § 39.01 (2022).

“While parents must bear the primary responsibility for meeting the needs of their children,” Monrad Paulsen posits in his 1966 article The Legal Framework for Child Protection, “society has an obligation to help parents who for one reason or another are unable or incapable of satisfactorily fulfilling their role.”34Paulsen, supra note 27, at 704. Paulsen’s framework was written with corporal punishment in mind, but the same core tenets can be applied in the context of sharenting. The general responsibility to control a child’s social media footprint must lie primarily with the parents.35Steinberg, supra note 14, at 861–62 (“[C]ases suggest that courts are sympathetic to a child’s interest in privacy but nonetheless give substantial deference to parents’ rights to control their child’s upbringing and the limitations of the right to privacy. These cases offer limited guidance with respect to how children’s privacy interests might intersect with parents’ rights to share their child’s personal information online, as today’s parental online sharing practices are novel in the legal sphere.”) (footnote omitted). But society must also bear an obligation to step in when parents are “unable or incapable of satisfactorily fulfilling their role.”36Paulsen, supra note 27, at 704. Companies have also been called upon to protect children by policing content posted on their platforms, whether it be self-imposed or by legislative mandate.37See Danielle Keats Citron, How to Fix Section 230, 103 B.U. L. Rev. 713, 713–14 (2023) (“Content platforms lack sufficient incentive to combat online abuse because they generate significant profits from our likes, clicks, and shares. Victims can’t sue sites that earn advertising fees from their suffering. The status quo is particularly costly for women, children, and minorities who lose their ability to speak, work, and love. Inaction signals our society’s indifference to vulnerable people enduring online abuse that robs them of their civil rights and civil liberties. We need to fix § 230. Reform must be approached with humility and care, lest it spur platforms to over—or under—moderate in ways that do more harm than good. . . . While the over-filtering provision, § 230(c)(2), should be preserved, the under-filtering provision, § 230(c)(1), should be revised. Sites that deliberately encourage, solicit, or maintain intimate privacy violations, cyber stalking, or cyber harassment should not enjoy immunity from liability.”). See generally Ari Ezra Waldman, Privacy as Trust: Sharing Personal Information in a Networked World, 69 U. Mia. L. Rev. 559 (2015); Ari Ezra Waldman, Designing Without Privacy, 55 Hous. L. Rev. 659 (2018).

Much like how child abuse falls beyond the bounds of acceptable parental discipline, exploitative sharing about children publicly and for profit often falls beyond the bounds of acceptable sharenting, thus necessitating legal protections and remedies for children who are harmed or at risk of harm by their parents’ conduct. When parents go “beyond sharenting,” they have engaged in a course of conduct that calls for state action to minimize harm to their children.

Scholars, parents, and politicians are grappling with this new reality, but scholarly literature has yet to propose comprehensive frameworks or realistic solutions. In 2017, I published the first scholarly article on sharenting, drawing from my professional and practical experience as a law professor and clinician.38See Steinberg, supra note 14. This Article builds on that work, further developing a scholarly account for when sharenting crosses the line into problematic harm or exploitation and advancing several solutions.

This Article will proceed in three parts. Part I of this Article provides an overview of child abuse law. It considers the rights parents have under the substantive due process clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.39U.S. Const. amend. XIV. As later Sections of the Article explain, the law must evolve to recognize the legal boundaries of sharenting, utilizing the state’s parens patriae powers to protect children when their parents fail to do so.40See infra Sections III.A–B.

Part II of this Article discusses how our legal system fails to protect children’s privacy online. Furthermore, this Part offers readers an overview of sharenting. This parental practice of sharing about children online also receives protection under both the substantive due process clause of the Fourteenth Amendment and the free speech protections outlined in the First Amendment.41U.S. Const. amends. I, XIV. In most circumstances, parents are best suited to control the upbringing of their children both on- and offline.42Steinberg, supra note 14, at 862. To that end, Section II.B explores federal laws that aim to keep young people safe online,43Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act of 1998, 15 U.S.C. §§ 6501–06 (1998). both from harm caused by the child’s own conduct online and harm to children by others collecting, storing, selling, or otherwise disseminating a child’s information or imagery in a way that poses a risk of harm to children, specifically focused on the practice of sharenting.44Stacey Steinberg, The Myth of Children’s Online Privacy Protection, 77 SMU L. Rev. 441, 452 (2024). This Section will explore laws spanning from the 1998 Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act,4515 U.S.C. §§ 6501–06. which places parents in control over the information third parties collect about children online, to today’s attempts to regulate children’s own conduct when they use social media themselves.46Id. Next, this Section will explore how states have attempted to fill the gaps left open by the lack of comprehensive federal legislation that protects children online.47See, e.g., H.B. 3, 2024 Leg. Reg. Sess. (Fla. 2024) (codified at Fla. Stat. §§ 501.1736–38 (2024)), https://www.flsenate.gov/Session/Bill/2024/3 [https://perma.cc/Q4HF-6JXK]; Press Release, Ron DeSantis, Gov., State of Fla., Governor DeSantis Signs Legislation to Protect Children and Uphold Parental Rights (Mar. 25, 2024), https://www.flgov.com/eog/news/press/2024/governor-desantis-signs-legislation-protect-children-and-uphold-parental-rights [https://perma.cc/B324-B5WZ] (“Specifically, this bill: Prevents a minor who is younger than 14 years of age from becoming a social media account holder. Empowers parents to decide whether 14- and 15-year-olds can have a social media account. Protects the ability of Floridians to remain anonymous online.”). It will outline how states have managed to empower parents to take control of their children’s online experiences and information to better protect their families and also how some states have begun to limit how parents share online.48Press Release, Ron DeSantis, supra note 47. Lastly, Section II.C will discuss how other countries have attempted to protect children online, highlighting how foreign governments appear far more willing to exercise parens patriae powers to protect children than the U.S. government or the states.49U.N. Comm. on the Rts. of the Child, General Comment No. 25 (2021) on Children’s Rights in Relation to the Digital Environment, ¶¶ 23–25, U.N. Doc. CRC/C/GC/25 (Mar. 2, 2021). This Section will discuss the role of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (“UNCRC”) in protecting children, and perhaps more importantly, the role of the UNCRC in recognizing children’s rights to privacy and protection in digital environments.50Id. ¶¶ 7, 67. This children’s rights-based framework is recognized by over 192 nations and is quite different from our parents’ rights-based framework in the United States.51Sonia Livingstone, Eva Lievens, Richard Graham, Kruakae Pothong, Stacey Steinberg & Mariya Stoilova, Children’s Privacy in the Digital Age: US and UK Experiences and Policy Responses in Handbook of Children and Screens: Digital Media, Development, and Well-Being from Birth Through Adolescence 491 (Dimitri A. Christakis & Lauren Hale eds., 2025).

Part III of the Article will propose a new model for children’s online privacy protection. Just as child welfare laws have evolved to separate legal corporal punishment from child abuse, Section III.A will argue that the United States must separate legal parental sharenting from online abuse and exploitation perpetrated by parents. Utilizing the doctrine of parens patriae,52Parens Patriae, The Law Dictionary, https://thelawdictionary.org/parens-patriae [https://perma.cc/DJG8-247E]. this model recognizes that there are limits to parental autonomy.53See Pierce v. Soc’y of the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary, 268 U.S. 510, 534 (1925); Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390, 402 (1923); Prince v. Massachusetts, 321 U.S. 158, 166 (1944). While determining those limits is challenging, systems exist that allow for child welfare professionals to use evidence-based research to inform new policy in this arena.54See Tonia C. Stott, Ann MacEachron & Nora Gustavsson, Social Media and Child Welfare: Policy, Training, and the Risks and Benefits from the Administrator’s Perspective, 17 Advances Soc. Work 221, 224 (2016); Melanie Sage & Todd Edward Sage, Social Media Use in Child Welfare Practice, 17 Advances Soc. Work 93, 107–08 (2016). This policy can include comprehensive measures that allow for a public health campaign educating parents on the difference between acceptable sharenting and online child abuse or exploitation.55See Stacey Steinberg, Meredith Burgess & Karla Herrera, Adopting Social Media in Family and Adoption Law, 2023 Utah L. Rev. 447 (2023). The public health campaign would be accompanied by new methods of reporting instances of exploitative or abusive sharenting and provide funding for such reports to be investigated by well-trained professionals who, like traditional child welfare professionals, proceed first by working to educate and strengthen families so that parents can be supported to make better online sharing decisions for their families.56Ayten Doğan Keskin, Nazan Kaytez, Mustafa Damar, Fatma Elibol & Neriman Aral, Sharenting Syndrome: An Appropriate Use of Social Media?, 11 Healthcare 1359, 1372 (2023). This article seems to be the only previous research on the link between sharenting and child abuse. It terms this category of harm as “sharenting syndrome.” Id. at 1361 (“Children who become well known on social media may be vulnerable to neglect and abuse due to their developmental characteristics. Child neglect and abuse are not spontaneous situations but are instead caused by people. Similarly, in sharenting syndrome, the child is at risk due to the sharing of the parents, and in some cases may be exposed to neglect and abuse. While sharenting syndrome may not always result in visible harm to the child involved, it can lead to problems in social, emotional, or mental development. From this perspective, sharenting syndrome can be exposed a form of child abuse and neglect.”) (footnote omitted). However, these professionals must also be empowered with legal methods to protect children if parents fail to do so. Through a judicial process, the state should be permitted to take action to protect children in the virtual world much as it does in our brick-and-mortar one.

Parents rarely neglect or abuse their children because they are intentionally malicious.57See, e.g., Paul Bywaters, Lisa Bunting, Gavin Davidson, Jennifer Hanratty, Will Mason, Claire McCartan & Nicole Steils, The Relationship Between Poverty, Child Abuse and Neglect: An Evidence Review 48 (2016). Most do so because they either do not have the resources they need to make better parenting decisions, or they are unaware of how they can better meet their own needs to meet those of their children simultaneously.58Id. at 31; see also Dorothy Roberts, Why Abolition, 61 Fam. Ct. Rev. 229, 232 (2023). Our legal systems have evolved to offer parents assistance to create healthier living environments for their children59Introduction to the Child Welfare System, Juv. L. Ctr., https://jlc.org/introduction-child-welfare-system [https://web.archive.org/web/20250618203118/https://jlc.org/introduction-child-welfare-system]. and to give the state tools to take action that protects children from harm (and risks of future harm) within the home.60Bywaters et al., supra note 57, at 34. Some critics argue that the system actually does not achieve this result and is inherently broken or beyond repair—calling for abolition and total replacement of the current scheme. See Dorothy Roberts, Abolish Family Policing, Too, Dissent (2021), https://dissentmagazine.org/article/abolish-family-policing-too [https://perma.cc/AL48-8AHP]. Similarly, parents rarely exploit their children online because they are intentionally malicious.61Steinberg, supra note 14, at 867. Most do so because they are unaware of the risks such oversharing presents or need the financial or social assistance such oversharing provides.62Id. The state must have tools to empower parents to make smarter sharing decisions for their families.63This can be accomplished through a best interest model of child protection. And the state must also have tools to step in and protect children when parents fail to do so or when harm is significantly likely to occur.64This can be best accomplished through a legal framework recognizing that the state must step in when parents harm children through oversharing.

I. Child Protection In The United States

In the United States, strong deference is given to parents to raise their children as they see fit.65See Barbara Bennett Woodhouse, “Who Owns the Child?”: Meyer and Pierce and the Child as Property, 33 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 995, 1115 (1992). Courts are reluctant to interfere with parental decision-making, except in the most limited of circumstances.66Id.; see also Pierce v. Soc’y of the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary, 268 U.S. 510, 534–35 (1925); Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390, 399–401 (1923); Prince v. Massachusetts, 321 U.S. 158, 165–67 (1944); Wisconsin v. Yoder, 406 U.S. 205, 232, 232–34 (1972). However, laws exist to protect children from parental abuse and neglect.67Fla. Dep’t of Child. & Families, supra note 13, at 6. Parents have also been held accountable for exploiting their children in a myriad of ways.68See, e.g., Ramon Ramirez, What Will It Take?: In the Wake of the Outrageous “Balloon Boy” Hoax, a Call to Regulate the Long-Ignored Issue of Parental Exploitation of Children, 20 S. Cal. Interdisc. L.J. 617, 618–19 (2011)

Concerned children’s rights advocates have further decried the incident, now known as the “Balloon Boy” hoax, as an example of “the potential for the exploitation of kids by their own parents in the world of reality TV,” a world regulated solely by a patchwork of various state laws in the absence of any federal regulation. . . . For some time, parents have exploited their children in film and sports—other industries in which there is minimal, if any, legal protection for children.

Id.
Indeed, children do not belong to their parents.69Woodhouse, supra note 65, at 1122. But the relationship between children and their parents remains a space where the state generally refuses to enter.70Prince, 321 U.S. at 166.

It is cardinal with us that the custody, care and nurture of the child reside first in the parents, whose primary function and freedom include preparation for obligations the state can neither supply nor hinder. And it is in recognition of this that these decisions have respected the private realm of family life which the state cannot enter. But the family itself is not beyond regulation in the public interest, as against a claim of religious liberty.

Id. (citation omitted).

A. Evolution of Federal Child Protection Laws

Child welfare laws gained traction during the middle of the eighteenth century. A case often cited as creating the first child abuse laws in the country tells of a young girl who was physically abused. While Mary Ellen’s injuries and the neglect she suffered were gruesome, concerned community members were hard-pressed to find an existing legal mechanism to protect the child.71Mary Ellen’s case was first noticed by an ailing neighbor who heard the abuse occur through the walls and reported to a Methodist missionary that her dying wish was to see the little girl saved. Given that there were no child welfare laws to enforce, the missionary sought assistance from what would become the predecessors to social workers: the police, “benevolent societies . . . whose object it was to care for children” and “charitable citizens” who all could or would not find legal mechanisms to help. See Jacob A. Riis, The Children of the Poor 142–43 (1892). A lawyer, the president of the New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, was able to argue successfully for her protection by citing animal welfare laws.72Id. at 143 (“The child is an animal. . . . [I]f there is no justice for it as a human being, it shall at least have the rights of the stray . . . . It shall not be abused.”) (quoting Mary Ellen’s lawyer Henry Bergh). This remained the norm for many years.73Andrew L. Yarrow, History of U.S. Children’s Policy, 1900–Present, First Focus 3 (Apr. 2009), https://firstfocus.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Childrens-Policy-History.pdf [https://perma.cc/X3VK-Q5WY].

In the later parts of the nineteenth century, Progressive activists urged the government to do more to protect the nation’s children.74Id. at 1.

The turn of the 20th century was a time of profound transition both in the status of children in American life and in the role of the federal government in child policy. Childhood increasingly was seen as a developmentally distinct stage of life, and children were viewed with greater tenderness—reflecting a new, middle-class belief in childhood’s importance and concern with children’s vulnerability. Concurrently, the federal government was becoming much more involved in implementing policies to promote the welfare of Americans, young and old.

Id. (footnote omitted).
The “child saving movement” focused on numerous harms facing children, including poor health, abusive labor, delinquency, poverty, failed families, and institutionalization.75Id. One realm of reformation focused on the need to “Americanize” children of immigrants so that they could become more a part of American communities and more accepting of American culture.76Id. at 4. This same time period saw an influx in calls to create child welfare standards, focusing on setting minimum standards for child and maternal health, labor, and needy children.77Id. at 3. As child welfare became more standardized, states were incentivized to create laws that both protected children and held adults accountable for the well-being of children under their care.78Id. at 3–4.

As the twentieth century got underway, conferences and calls for standardization grew.79Id. at 5.

The Progressive impulse to improve children’s health, education, and morality largely languished during the 1920s, until the Hoover Administration. President Herbert Hoover convened the third White House conference on children to “study the present status of the health and well-being of the children of the United States and its possessions; to report what is being done; [and] to recommend what ought to be done and how to do it.” This massive undertaking brought together experts across the country over a 16-month period, culminating in a November 1930 Washington meeting. Four committees—focusing on medical, public health, education and training, and disability issues—issued a 643-page report to 3,000 attendees and the public, as well as a 32-volume, 10,511-page set of appendices. A Children’s Charter made 19 proposals, calling for increased scientific research to improve child well-being, and public assistance to 10 million mentally and physically “deficient” children.

Id. (footnote omitted).
Social welfare programs expanded under the New Deal and throughout World War II, providing funding to help create programs that allowed for these new reforms and standards to make their way into children’s home lives.80Id. at 5–6. The Social Security Act of 1935, for example, included provisions (known as Title VI) geared at helping children in need.81See id. (providing cash to needy families funds now known as Temporary Assistance to Needy Families or TANF funds). During this time period and the decades that followed, federal policies focused on providing education to young people, providing child care for needy families, restricting child labor, instituting nutrition programs, and promoting childhood vaccination.82Id. at 8–11.

During the Kennedy administration, these efforts continued. Congress developed the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development (“NICHD”), which focused on “conduct[ing] and coordinat[ing] national biomedical and social science research on child and maternal health and on physical, intellectual, and emotional development. NICHD has supported research on birth defects . . . stimulated the expansion of pediatrics as a medical specialty, and provided an official imprimatur to the idea that that adult health and behavior is shaped during childhood.”83Id. at 13–14. This period also saw the inception and development of scientific research regarding “battered children,” and by 1966, “every state had passed legislation requiring better reporting and intervention in cases of child abuse.”84Id. With these developments, parenting became a budding subject of interest in the public health sphere.

Federal legislation aimed at creating a uniform system of child protection can be traced to the Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act of 1974 (“CAPTA”).85Children’s Bureau, U.S. Dep’t of Health & Hum. Servs., About CAPTA: A Legislative History 1 (2019), https://cwig-prod-prod-drupal-s3fs-us-east-1.s3.amazonaws.com/public/documents/about.pdf [https://perma.cc/6JWP-ZMNR]. This Act has been most recently reauthorized in 2019 through the Victims of Child Abuse Reauthorization Act of 2018.86Id. Through federal grants, states are provided with funding to “improve child protective services, including mandatory reporting of child maltreatment, intake, screening, investigations, risk and safety assessments, case management and training.”87Casey Family Programs, The Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act: Keeping Children Safe and Strengthening Families in Communities 8 (May 2019), https://www.casey.org/media/CAPTA-Paper_web.pdf [https://perma.cc/D8DF-NTEZ]. While funds provided through this Act represent some of the

earliest allocations of federal money to states to protect children, they currently make up a small part of the funding models states use to protect children.88Id. at 12.

Most federal funding for child welfare goes to support the “back end” of the continuum, namely services to children who have been removed from home and placed in foster care. These services include foster care maintenance payments and administration; independent living services; adoption assistance and administration; and guardianship assistance. All of those are governed by Title IV-E of the Social Security Act.

Id.

The Adoption Assistance and Child Welfare Act of 1980 also marked a turning point in child welfare legislation in the United States.89Martin Guggenheim, General Overview of Child Protection Laws in the United States, in Representing Parents in Child Welfare Cases: Advice and Guidance for Family Defenders (Am. Bar Ass’n 2015), https://www.americanbar.org/content/dam/aba-cms-dotorg/products/inv/book/224751148/Excerpt%20from%20Chapter%201.pdf [https://web.archive.org/web/20250613224822/https://www.americanbar.org/content/dam/aba-cms-dotorg/products/inv/book/224751148/Excerpt%20from%20Chapter%201.pdf]. This federal law focused on keeping families together, as many state agencies were separating families at alarming rates in efforts to resolve child welfare problems.90Id. at 3.

The 1980 law mandates that states receiving federal money comply with specifications designed to prevent unnecessary separation of children from their parents, to assure a careful monitoring of children who are separated, and to provide an infusion of services into the family to speed the ultimate return of children to their parents.

Id.
Now, many laws protecting children were focused not only on physical health, but on morality and culture as well. For example, the Children’s Television Act of 1990 regulated what TV stations could broadcast.91Yarrow, supra note 73, at 23 (“Continuing the decades-long reaction to the effects of popular culture on children, Congress passed the Children’s Television Act of 1990. The law gave the Federal Communications Commission loose powers to require TV stations to devote time to ‘educational and informative’ programming.”). During the Clinton years, efforts centered on ensuring parents of young children had access to high-quality childcare and family support.92See, e.g., Family and Medical Leave Act of 1993, Pub. L. No. 103-3, 107 Stat. 6. In his policy draft, Andrew Yarrow writes, “In her book It Takes a Village [] First Lady Hillary Clinton strongly reaffirmed the principle that society—and, by implication, government—bears a strong responsibility for child welfare and successful child development.”93Yarrow, supra note 73, at 24.

In the late 1990s, as technology became ever more present, the government began creating laws giving parents more control over their children’s digital lives.94Id. at 25. Yarrow writes:

The 1996 Telecommunications Act called for the broadcast, cable, and motion picture industries to develop voluntary ratings for TV programs based on their degree of violent or sexual content. In tandem, TV manufacturers were required by 2000 to install “V-chips” to enable parents to block programming. The 1998 Child Online Protection Act was one of several legislative efforts to restrict children’s access to web-based pornography, although courts have ruled the law unconstitutional. The Children’s Online Privacy Protection Acct [sic] (COPPA), which took effect in 2000, restricted commercial web sites from collecting personal information from children under 13.95Id. at 25–26.

These efforts to both standardize and unify the nation’s efforts toward enhancing child development continue today.96See id. at 27–28.

A common theme seen throughout these policy initiatives is the focus on empowering parents, first and foremost, to shape the welfare of their children, and to dictate the environment in which a child comes of age.97Id. at 1–2. However, equally important in these schemes is the recognition that government, through its parens patriae model of child protection, also has a role to play.98See generally Prince v. Massachusetts, 321 U.S. 158 (1944).

This broad overview of child welfare policy includes policies focused on protecting children from abuse and neglect. Research overwhelmingly shows that our child welfare system, also referred to as a “family regulation system,”99This term was popularized by Dorothy Roberts. Dorothy Roberts, Abolishing Policing Also Means Abolishing Family Regulation, The Imprint (June 16, 2020, 5:26 AM), https://imprintnews.org/child-welfare-2/abolishing-policing-also-means-abolishing-family-regulation [https://perma.cc/5JLN-M24U]. disproportionately removes children from Black and Brown families.100See S. Lisa Washington, Essay, Survived & Coerced: Epistemic Injustice in the Family Regulation System, 122 Colum. L. Rev. 1097, 1103 & n.11 (2022). Scholars have called for abolition of this family regulation system,101See generally Roberts, supra note 60. arguing that it is irreparably broken and biased against families of color.102Id. While this Article will not discuss this important topic in detail, it supports a dismantling of current broken systems and suggests that a new system can be created that addresses the systemic bias of our current practices and incorporates the evolving needs of children online.103Special thanks to Naomi Cahn for identifying this important issue and encouraging me to discuss it.

B. Early Court Decisions Regulating Parental Conduct

The courts have also interposed their own views on parental conduct. “Blackstone deemed ‘the most universal relation in nature . . . (to be) that between parent and child.’ ”104In re J. P., 648 P.2d 1364, 1373 (Utah 1982) (quoting 1 William Blackstone, Commentaries *446). The court further observed that “[t]he integrity of the family and the parents’ inherent right and authority to rear their own children have been recognized as fundamental axioms of Anglo-American culture, presupposed by all our social, political, and legal institutions.” Id. The parental rights arising from this relationship rest not only in law and precedent, but also “in nature and human instinct.”105Id. Throughout our Nation’s history, the Supreme Court has held the rights of parents to be fundamental.106See, e.g., Prince v. Massachusetts, 321 U.S. 158, 165 (1944). In the seminal case of Meyer v. Nebraska, decided in 1923, the Court “described the parental right as ‘the right to control,’ corresponding with the duty of a parent to educate their children.”107Jessica Quinter & Caroline Markowitz, Judicial Bypass and Parental Rights After Dobbs, 132 Yale L.J. 1908, 1921 (2023).

Canonically, the foundational case for parental rights under the U.S. Constitution is Meyer v. Nebraska. There, the Court held that a Nebraska law prohibiting schools from teaching any language other than English before the eighth grade was unconstitutional under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. In so holding, the Court invoked the “right of parents” to “engage” a teacher to instruct their children in German and reasoned that such a right was “within the liberty of the [Fourteenth] Amendment.” The Court described the parental right as “the right of control,” corresponding with the duty of a parent to educate their children.

Id. (footnotes omitted) (quoting Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390, 400 (1923)).
This understanding of parental rights was further expounded on two years later in Pierce v. Soc’y of the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary, holding that “[t]he child is not the mere creature of the state; those who nurture him and direct his destiny have the right, coupled with the high duty, to recognize and prepare him for additional obligations.”108Pierce v. Soc’y of the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary, 268 U.S. 510, 535 (1925). Yet, the Court has also recognized that there are times when the state must curb parental authority to protect children.109Prince, 321 U.S. at 165.

Against these sacred private interests, basic in a democracy, stand the interests of society to protect the welfare of children, and the state’s assertion of authority to that end, made here in a manner conceded valid if only secular things were involved. The last is no mere corporate concern of official authority. It is the interest of youth itself, and of the whole community, that children be both safeguarded from abuses and given opportunities for growth into free and independent well-developed men and citizens. Between contrary pulls of such weight, the safest and most objective recourse is to the lines already marked out, not precisely but for guides, in narrowing the no man’s land where this battle has gone on.

Id.

In Prince v. Massachusetts, the Court noted that “the family itself is not beyond regulation in the public interest, as against a claim of religious liberty.”110Id. at 166 (citing Reynolds v. United States, 98 U.S. 145 (1878); Davis v. Beason, 133 U.S. 333 (1890)). In Prince, a child sold religious magazines on the street, and her caregiver argued that this was permissible not only because it was at the direction of a person acting in loco parentis, but also that it was permissible as an exercise of both the child’s and the caregiver’s religious liberties. However, the Court noted the dangers streets pose to children, stating that “[p]arents may be free to become martyrs themselves. But it does not follow they are free, in identical circumstances, to make martyrs of their children before they have reached the age of full and legal discretion when they can make that choice for themselves.”111Id. at 170.

We think that with reference to the public proclaiming of religion, upon the streets and in other similar public places, the power of the state to control the conduct of children reaches beyond the scope of its authority over adults, as is true in the case of other freedoms, and the rightful boundary of its power has not been crossed in this case.

Id.

II. Children’s Privacy In The Age of Social Media

Just as the state gives parents wide latitude in determining how to raise their children in the physical world, parents also regulate a child’s virtual world.112Lee B. Erickson, Pamela Wisniewski, Heng Xu, John M. Carroll, Mary Beth Rosson & Daniel F. Perkins, The Boundaries Between: Parental Involvement in a Teen’s Online World, 67 J. Ass’n for Info. Sci. & Tech. 1384, 1385 (2016) (“In today’s online world, where physical proximity no longer dictates the interactions people have with one another, parents struggle to establish both real world and virtual world boundaries to protect their teens from online dangers while their children struggle to act independently.”) (citing Diana Baumrind, Patterns of Parental Authority and Adolescent Autonomy, 108 New Directions for Child & Adolescent Dev. 61, 61–63 (2005); Karen Bradley, Internet Lives: Social Context and Moral Domain in Adolescent Development, 108 New Directions for Youth Dev. 57 , 69–70 (2005)). The cases cited above, which lay out the rights of parents but also highlight the role of the state in protecting children from parental overreach, have not yet been applied to parental oversharing on social media, nor have they been contemplated in discussions surrounding parental oversight (or lack of oversight) regarding their children’s social media use. Parents can allow their children practically unlimited access to the internet, can choose not to monitor their website viewing, and can allow their children to post on social media without seeing any legal repercussions.113Twenty-one percent of parents polled did not use any form of parental control online. Kaspersky Lab, Consumer Security Risks Survey 2016: Connected but Not Protected 21 (2016), https://media.kasperskycontenthub.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/45/2018/03/08233604/B2C_survey_2016_report.pdf [https://perma.cc/Q8WH-DD5H].

A. Sharenting and Beyond

Parents have almost unfettered discretion to share about their children in the virtual world much like they do in the brick-and-mortar world.114See Tawfiq Ammari, Priya Kumar, Cliff Lampe & Sarita Schoenebeck, Managing Children’s Online Identities: How Parents Decide What to Disclose About Their Children Online, in Proc. of the 33rd Ann. ACM Conf. on Hum. Factors in Computing Sys. 1895, 1896 (2015); Steinberg, supra note 14, at 882. Just as the state generally does not step in when a parent talks about their child with friends, schools, community members, or the public, the state does not step in when a parent posts about a child online.115The Kids Online Safety Act (“KOSA”) was first proposed in the 2022 Congressional Session by Senators Marsha Blackburn (R-TN) and Richard Blumenthal (D-CT) and was reintroduced in the 2023 Session. Kids Online Safety Act, S. 1409, 118th Cong. § 1 (2023). The bill has been criticized heavily for censorship concerns. See, e.g., Stop KOSA, Fight for the Future, https://www.stopkosa.com [https://perma.cc/YTJ9-MYAF]; Press Release, ACLU, ACLU Slams Senate Passage of Kids Online Safety Act, Urges House to Protect Free Speech (July 30, 2024, 1:00 PM), https://www.aclu.org/press-releases/aclu-slams-senate-passage-of-kids-online-safety-act-urges-house-to-protect-free-speech [https://perma.cc/VZ5M-TTNK]. In almost all circumstances, this makes sense and is consistent with our democratic ideals of free speech and with our nation’s strong deference to parental autonomy.116Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390, 399–400 (1923). However, unlike a conversation, information shared by a parent online has the potential to last long into the future,117Elisabeth Staksrud, Children in the Online World: Risk, Regulation, Rights 28 (2013), https://library.oapen.org/bitstream/handle/20.500.12657/75345/9781317167839.pdf (citing Pia Christensen & A. Prout, Anthropological and Sociological Perspectives on the Study of Children, in Researching Children’s Experience: Approaches and Methods 42, 42–60 (S. Greene & D. Hogan eds., 2005)). possibly following a child into adulthood in ways not generally contemplated by parents or the public.118Pietro Ferrara, Ignazio Cammisa, Giovanni Corsello, Ida Giardino, Mehmet Vural, Tudor Lucian Pop, Clara Pettoello-Mantovani, Flavia Indrio & Massimo Pettoello-Mantovani, Online “Sharenting”: The Dangers of Posting Sensitive Information About Children on Social Media, J. Pediatrics 2, June 2023, at 1, 2 (“Even as children grow up, information about their childhood continues to exist, and this can cause emotional damage due to shame or embarrassment over some online content. Despite parents’ initial good intentions, the negative consequences of a digital footprint can follow individuals for years after the fact.”).

Well-informed parents are generally best suited to decide how much to share online about their children.119Steinberg, supra note 14, at 878 (“While the law might never offer children complete protection from their parents’ choice to disclose personal information online, society is beginning to recognize that there are inherent safety and moral risks involved in many of today’s common parental sharing practices.”). Parents who are aware of the risks of oversharing online will take steps to censor themselves, keeping private matters private and embarrassing stories about their children to themselves.120Ferrara et al., supra note 118, at 2 (“Because of the growing concern about the risks of the internet, parents have begun posting photos of their children in which only the back of the head is visible or only after pixelating the child’s face.”). However, many parents are not aware of the risks that come alongside online sharing about children.121Id. Adults today are the first generation of parents to raise kids alongside social media—understanding the implications of growing up shared can be a complicated task for even the most well-educated parents—and many parents remain un- or underinformed about the risks that come when parents overshare online.122Stacey Steinberg, Growing Up Shared: How Parents Can Share Smarter on Social Media—and What You Can Do to Keep Your Family Safe in a No-Privacy World 4 (2020). A few informed parents choose to share about their children despite being fully aware of the risks.123See Katherine Blunt, The Influencer Is a Young Teenage Girl. The Audience Is 92% Adult Men, Wall St. J. (June 15, 2024, 9:00 PM), https://www.wsj.com/tech/young-influencers-instagram-meta-safety-risks-6d27497e [https://web.archive.org/web/20240701093333/https://www.wsj.com/tech/young-influencers-instagram-meta-safety-risks-6d27497e].

While oversharenting is generally more of a public health concern that demands a public health response, oversharenting can also become a legal concern.124Other countries provide children with legal remedies when parents overshare. See, e.g., Loi 2024-120 du 19 Février 2024 Visant à Garantir Le Respect du Droit à l’Image des Enfants [Law 2024-120 of February 19, 2024 Aimed at Guaranteeing Respect for Children’s Image Rights], Journal Officiel de la République Française [J.O.] [Official Gazette of France], Feb. 20, 2024, p. 1. However, unlike typical forms of child endangerment, our legal system is currently ill-equipped to mount an appropriate legal response.

States rarely step in to regulate parental online sharing not only because parents generally have the substantive due process right to make most decisions for their children, but also because of a parent’s First Amendment right to free speech.125See, e.g., Shak v. Shak, 144 N.E.3d 274, 279 (Mass. 2020) (“However, as important as it is to protect a child from the emotional and psychological harm that might follow from one parent’s use of vulgar or disparaging words about the other, merely reciting that interest is not enough to satisfy the heavy burden of justifying a prior restraint.”); see also U.S. Const. amends. I, XIV. Just as courts rarely step in to restrain individuals from posting about matters online generally, courts would be reluctant to step in to restrain a parent from similar conduct.126See Shak v. Shak, 144 N.E.3d at 279; see also U.S. Const. amends. I, XIV. But see Anna Hagg, First Amendment Rights or the Best Interests of the Child?: The Tension Between Parents’ and Children’s Rights in Non-Disparagement Agreements, 56 New Eng. L. Rev. 79, 82 (2021) (“The U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that protecting children’s well-being and mental health can be a compelling state interest to overcome the unconstitutional presumption against prior restraints.”). The right to free speech is very broad, and its role in online sharing is consistent with the right as it is practiced in other contexts. Moreover, not only do individuals have strong free speech rights protecting words already spoken, but courts are also especially reluctant to put a prior restraint on parental speech not yet said.127Shak, 144 N.E.3d at 279–80.

This analysis is best begun by a brief overview of how courts hesitate to limit speech that has not yet been spoken. This area of law is often governed by what is known as the doctrine of prior restraint.128Near v. Minnesota ex rel. Olson, 283 U.S. 697, 713 (1931). Under the doctrine, the state cannot prohibit “the publication of speech prior to its distribution, including orders to remove an expression that has already been published.”129The doctrine only applies in instances where the state is trying to restrict speech. See Ariel L. Bendor & Michal Tamir, Prior Restraint in the Digital Age, 27 Wm. & Mary Bill Rts. J. 1155, 1156–59 (2019) (“The Doctrine of Prior Restraint applies to the government and courts only.”). But private online platforms, such as Facebook, X, and YouTube, are not subject to the doctrine and generally are allowed to censor publications or use them in accordance with their terms and conditions or as the platform sees fit. See id. at 1159; Andrew Tutt, The New Speech, 41 Hastings Const. L.Q. 235, 238 (2014). There are exceptions to the prior restraint doctrine. As Ariel Bendor and Michal Tamir write, courts have approved prior restraints where

the speech is deemed obscene, where a prior restraint is needed to fulfill the right to a fair trial, where the expression is part of an unprotected commercial speech, where the speech was part of a continuing course of conduct, and where the expression could endanger national security in time of emergency. Courts have also approved prior restraint in order to protect privacy, in order to prevent employment discrimination, in order to protect property, in order to regulate public forums, and in order to prevent misleading commercial expressions.130Bendor & Tamir, supra note 129, at 1161–62 (first citing Nebraska Press Ass’n. v. Stuart, 427 U.S. 538, 569–70 (1976); then citing San Antonio Cmty. Hosp. v. S. Cal. Dist. Council of Carpenters, 125 F. 3d 1230, 1239 (9th Cir. 1997); then citing Lothschuetz v. Carpenter, 898 F. 2d 1200, 1208–09 (6th Cir. 1990); then citing N.Y. Times Co. v. United States, 403 U.S. 713, 714 (1971); then citing Alexander Tsesis, Essay, Terrorist Speech on Social Media, 70 Vand. L. Rev. 651, 692 (2017); then citing Porco v. Lifetime Entm’t Servs., LLC, 116 A.D.3d 1264, 1266 (N.Y. App. Div. 2014); then citing Aguilar v. Avis Rent A Car Sys., Inc., 980 P.2d 846, 875 (Cal. 1999); then citing Barlow v. Sipes, 744 N.E.2d 1, 8–9 (Ind. Ct. App. 2001); then citing Advanced Training Sys., Inc. v. Caswell Equip. Co., Inc., 352 N.W.2d 1, 11 (Minn. 1984); then citing Guion v. Terra Mktg. of Nev., Inc., 523 P.2d 847, 848 (Nev. 1974); then citing Mazzocone v. Willing, 369 A.2d 829, 831 (Pa. Super. Ct. 1976), rev’d, 393 A.2d 1155 (Pa. 1978); then citing Thomas v. Chi. Park Dist., 534 U.S. 316, 325 (2002); then citing Central Hudson Gas & Elec. Corp. v. Pub. Serv. Comm’n of N.Y., 447 U.S. 557, 571 n.13 (1980); and then citing Amalgamated Acme Affiliates, Inc. v. Minton, 33 S.W.3d 387, 395 (Tex. App. 2000)).

In the context of sharenting, prior restraint would generally bar the state from prohibiting a parent from speaking in the virtual world about their child, much as it would do in the brick-and-mortar world.131See Steinberg, supra note 44, at 453–59. It would also stop the state from being able to require speech made by parents to be removed from social media, absent significant exigent circumstances.132See e.g., Shak, 144 N.E.3d at 279–80.

Thus, one can understand why parents have such wide latitude to share online about their children. At least two constitutional principles are at play for parents—both their Fourteenth Amendment right to raise their children as they see fit and their First Amendment right to free speech.

Of course, there are times when even the Constitution will not protect parents who share online.133See Stacey Steinberg, Changing Faces: Morphed Child Pornography Images and the First Amendment, 68 Emory L.J. 909, 911 (2019). Generally, this is limited to criminal behavior. A parent sharing child sexual abuse material, for example, would receive no protection under the First or Fourteenth Amendments and could be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.134Id. While the First Amendment allows individuals to create, view, and share pornographic material, it offers no protection to those who create or share child sexual exploitation material, nor does it protect those who view or share such illicit material.135See New York v. Ferber, 458 U.S. 747, 764 (1982) (holding child pornography is not in the realm of First Amendment protection); Osborne v. Ohio, 495 U.S. 103, 109–11 (1990) (extending Ferber to permit states to criminalize the possession of child pornography). And while the Fourteenth Amendment allows parents much discretion to raise their child as they see fit, they do not have the right to sexually abuse their child or to allow others to do so.136Children’s Bureau, U.S. Dep’t of Health & Hum. Servs., Definitions of Child Abuse and Neglect 5 (2025), https://www.childwelfare.gov/topics/systemwide/laws-policies/statutes/define [https://perma.cc/7HRL-P6KT].

All States . . . include sexual abuse in their definitions of child abuse. Some States refer in general terms to sexual abuse, while others specify various acts as sexual abuse. Sexual exploitation is an element of the definition of sexual abuse in most jurisdictions. Sexual exploitation includes allowing the child to engage in prostitution or in the production of child pornography.

Id.

Every time a parent chooses to share online about their child, they make a decision that has the potential to have lasting consequences for their child.137See Alicia Blum-Ross & Sonia Livingstone, “Sharenting,” Parent Blogging, and the Boundaries of the Digital Self, 15 Int’l J. Media & Culture 110 (2017); Steinberg, supra note 26; Maja Sonne Damkjaer, Sharenting = Good Parenting?: Four Parental Approaches to Sharenting on Facebook, in Digital Parenting: The Challenges for Families in the Digital Age 209 (Giovanna Mascheroni et al. eds., 2018); see also L. Lin Ong, Alexa K. Fox, Laurel Aynne Cook, Claire Bessant, Pingping Gan, Mariea Grubbs Hoy, Emma Nottingham, Beatriz Pereira & Stacey Barell Steinberg, Sharenting in an Evolving Digital World: Increasing Online Connection and Consumer Vulnerability, 56 J. Consumer Affs. 1106 (2022). When parents choose to share embarrassing information, for example, it could come to the child’s attention in unexpected ways.138Gaëlle Ouvrein & Karen Verswijvel, Sharenting: Parental Adoration or Public Humiliation? A Focus Group Study on Adolescents’ Experiences with Sharenting Against the Backdrop of Their Own Impression Management, 99 Child. & Youth Servs. Rev. 319 (2019).

Adolescents on the other hand, are very serious about the consequences of embarrassing posts. They did not only describe the implications in the short run, but also referred to how this might stand in their way when looking for a job. Some scholars referred in this context to digital tattoos made by parents, instead of digital footprints.

Id.
A well-meaning friend of the parent could misinterpret the information and see it as a joke, later sharing it with the child in a public setting.139Id. Children of the well-meaning friend could use their parent’s phone and see the content, later using it to tease or bully the child who was the subject of the embarrassing post.140Id. If the information is shared publicly, the parent has no control over how the information is used in the future.141Emma Nottingham, ‘Dad! Cut that Part Out!’ Children’s Rights to Privacy in the Age of ‘Generation Tagged’: Sharenting, Digital Kidnapping and the Child Micro-Celebrity, in The Routledge International Handbook of Young Children’s Rights 183, 189 (Jane Murray, Beth Blue Swadener & Kylie Smith eds. 2019) (“When parents infringe their children’s privacy through ‘sharenting’, parent blogs or family vlogging, children lose the protectors of their privacy, since they cannot easily assert their own rights. This is especially the case for young children who might not be aware of what is happening until they are older and who are not in a position to discuss their concerns with their parents.”). If a parent shares the information “privately” with a limited audience, the parent may think they can control the spread of the information.142However, information shared with a small group could later be reshared more publicly. See Michel Walrave, Sofie Robbé, Luna Staes & Lara Hallam, Mindful Sharenting: How Millennial Parents Balance Between Sharing and Protecting, Frontiers Psych., July 25, 2023, at 1, 2 (“Moreover, as sharenting within an online networked environment makes children’s personal information available to online contacts, the recipients can also share this information with a wider audience.”). But even when parents feel a sense of security by sharing on a “friends only” account or with a limited audience, such a comforting feeling may not be warranted as information can be saved and shared in many ways—coming back to hurt the child years into the future.143Nottingham, supra note 142, at 189–90.

Children in this situation are also at risk of harms developing in the future, including emotional harm, once they discover that images, videos or information about themselves have been posted on social media by their parents. Information about a child could also be stolen by fraudsters who will open up accounts in a child’s name, having accumulated and stored information about a child throughout their entire life up until adulthood.

Id.

Online parental sharing geared toward building community may best be termed as sharenting to obtain social capital. Some parents “sharent” not only to build social capital within their network, but also in pursuit of financial capital, which requires them to entice and entertain a wider audience. In both instances, parents play the role of gatekeeper and gate-opener for their children’s personal information.144This presents another unique danger to sharenting online: without a publisher, agent, or journalist on the other side of the table being seen as an opposing party in negotiations, the parent’s protective role is particularly at risk of being understated and underutilized. See, e.g., Steinberg, supra note 14, at 870–71 (explaining that the Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act places parents in the role of gatekeeper and gate-opener when third parties share information online about their children). Parents act as gatekeepers when they protect a child’s personal information and as gate-openers when they share a child’s personal information.145Id. When parents are building financial capital through sharing children’s content, parents are often moving beyond typical

sharenting146Ana Jorge, Lidia Marôpo & Filipa Neto, ‘When You Realise Your Dad Is Cristiano Ronaldo’: Celebrity Sharenting and Children’s Digital Identities, 25 Info., Commc’n & Soc’y 516, 531 (2022), (“The breadth, visibility, persistence, and replicability of content, particularly visual content, generated by celebrity sharenting make it substantially different from sharenting by influencers or ordinary parents.”). and the children become a commodity, one measured either via social capital or through financial gain.147Bayan Kojok, Reinventing Child Labour: A Contemporary Analysis of Children’s Participation in the Digital Labour Economy 23 (Oct. 7, 2022) (M.A. Major Research Paper, University of Windsor) (on file with Scholarship @ UWindsor).

The profitability of being a social media influencer combines with the profitability of priceless and innocent childhood when we consider the market segment of mothers. This is a market that is built on emotion, as participation stems from a myriad of feelings, ranging from uncertainty to helplessness. Much like the aforementioned act of self-disclosure, mothers share their real-life mothering experiences online, which in turn gain traction with other mothers who went through similar experiences. This built a sense of community amongst the bloggers and readers, which inadvertently formed a relationship built on trust.

Id.

B. How the U.S. Tries (and Fails) to Protect Children’s Privacy Online

There are many threats to children’s online privacy and governments have attempted to protect them in many ways. Individual states have enacted laws that protect children’s privacy in a handful of narrow situations, few of which pertain to sharenting.148See, e.g., Fla. Stat. § 501.1735 (2024) (regulating access to social media websites for children 14 or 15 years of age or younger, with an exception for those with parental consent); Cal. Bus. & Prof. Code § 22581 (2015) (requiring website operators to permit minors to remove content posted by the minor but not content posted about the minor by third parties, including parents). The federal government has tried to enact legislation to protect children online, but most of these efforts have repeatedly failed to become law.149For an overview of past efforts in this space, see Zackary Blanton, Mark Gnatowski, Madison Jenkins, Rachel Kagan, Anabelle Roy, Libby Shaw, Bri Wendol & Monica Wilson-Reid, Children’s Online Privacy: An Overview of How Young People Use Social Media and How Lawmakers Seek to Better Protect and Empower Families Online (Gator TeamChild Juv. L. Clinic, Working Paper No. 1, 2022). Internationally, the United Nations Committee on the Rights of the Child issued General Comment No. 25, Children’s Rights in Relation to the Digital Environment, to better recognize children’s rights and needed protections online.150See Comm. on the Rts. of the Child, General Comment No. 25 (2021) on Children’s Rights in Relation to the Digital Environment, at ¶ 67, U.N. Doc. CRC/C/GC/25 (Mar. 2, 2021).

Privacy is vital to children’s agency, dignity and safety and for the exercise of their rights. Children’s personal data are processed to offer educational, health and other benefits to them. Threats to children’s privacy may arise from data collection and processing by public institutions, businesses and other organizations, as well as from such criminal activities as identity theft. Threats may also arise from children’s own activities and from the activities of family members, peers or others, for example, by parents sharing photographs online or a stranger sharing information about a child.

Id.
And many countries have acted to protect children’s privacy through legislation that prohibits the sharing of children’s content in certain circumstances, even punishing offenders with jail time.151See, e.g., Loi 2024-120 du 19 Révrier 2024 Visant à Garantir le Respect du Droit à l’Image des Enfants (1) [Law 2024-120 of February 19, 2024 Aimed at Guaranteeing Respect for Children’s Image Rights], Journal Officiel de la République Française [J.O.] [Official Gazette of France], Feb. 20, 2024, p. 103; Laura Kayali, France Aims to Protect Kids from Parents Oversharing Pics Online, Politico (Feb. 28, 2023, 8:05 PM), https://www.politico.eu/article/emmanuel-macron-france-law-aims-to-protect-kids-against-oversharing-parents [https://perma.cc/UAE2-9ZTP]; Sophia Khatsenkova, ‘Sharenting’: Why is France Trying to Stop Parents from Oversharing Their Children’s Images Online?, Euronews. (Oct. 3, 2023, 11:16 AM), https://www.euronews.com/next/2023/03/10/sharenting-why-is-france-trying-to-stop-parents-from-oversharing-their-childrens-images-on [https://perma.cc/2JET-7U5C]; France’s Parliament Votes on Law to Protect Childrens’ Images Online, The Local France (Mar. 7, 2023), https://www.thelocal.fr/20230307/frances-parliament-votes-on-law-to-protect-childrens-images-online [https://web.archive.org/web/20230509012355/https://www.thelocal.fr/20230307/frances-parliament-votes-on-law-to-protect-childrens-images-online].

The bill would expand on France’s existing privacy laws and the idea of a vie privée (private life). Under the purview of parental authority and responsibilities, the law would make it so that parents have a duty to respect their child’s private life. By extension, it aims to build upon the “right to one’s own image” for the child, stating that it must be respected by both parents, while also taking into account the opinion of the child. Should the parents disagree, then the text (as it is currently written) would allow for a judge to potentially prohibit one parent from publishing or posting any content without the other’s authorisation. In the most serious cases—where there is “injury to the child’s dignity”—the law could allow for a judge to be entrusted with the image rights for the child.

Id.

In the United States, COPPA is the key piece of legislation aimed at protecting children online.152See Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act of 1998, 15 U.S.C §§ 6501. However, this Act, signed into law in 1998 and updated in 2012, is woefully inadequate to protect children’s information online in the current atmosphere.153See Steinberg, supra note 14, at 441 (“United States federal and state laws are ill-equipped to truly offer children online privacy protections. There are few legal remedies available to young people whose data is used in malicious ways. The remedies that do exist are insufficient to simultaneously safeguard children while respecting privacy as young people mature.”). The internet is a very different place than it was in 1998 or 2012, and the Act does little to keep kids safe on the many websites they engage with today (such as Google and YouTube).154Google provides an overview to help content creators determine whether their material is subject to COPPA. See Determining if Your Content Is “Made for Kids”, YouTube Help, https://support.google.com/youtube/answer/9528076?hl=en [https://perma.cc/65D7-LGL9]. It does absolutely nothing to protect children when their parents are the ones acting to invade their privacy.155Steinberg, supra note 14, at 473 (“Young people need privacy both outside and within the home. U.S. views on children’s privacy almost always give parents unfettered control to monitor children as well as to share about their children publicly without first obtaining any form of consent.”). In fact, COPPA, like many state laws focused on children’s online privacy, places parents in the driver’s seat, tasking them with deciding who can collect, save, and disseminate a child’s information online.156Id.

COPPA sets forth requirements for online service providers to follow when their website is geared toward children under the age of thirteen.157See Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act of 1998, 15 U.S.C §§ 6501–06. If an online service provider seeks to engage this age group on its platform, the provider must take steps to protect the user’s personal information.158Id. To that end, the law requires that any online provider directing its website to children or collecting and maintaining personal information about a child must:

(a) Provide notice on the website or online service of what information it collects from children, how it uses such information, and its disclosure practices for such information;15916 C.F.R. § 312.4(b).

(b) Obtain verifiable parental consent prior to any collection, use, and/or disclosure of personal information from children;16016 C.F.R. § 312.5.

(c) Provide a reasonable means for a parent to review the personal information collected from a child and to refuse to permit its further use or maintenance;16116 C.F.R. § 312.6.

(d) Not condition a child’s participation in a game, the offering of a prize, or another activity on the child disclosing more personal information than is reasonably necessary to participate in such activity;16216 C.F.R. § 312.7. and

(e) Establish and maintain reasonable procedures to protect the confidentiality, security, and integrity of personal information collected from children.16316 C.F.R. § 312.8.

While COPPA provides some meaningful protections for young people, it remains significantly flawed.164Steinberg, supra note 14. COPPA does not provide young people with a private cause of action against website operators who violate their privacy.165Id.; see also 15 U.S.C § 6501. It does not provide young people with a meaningful way to request deletion of the information they have shared with third parties or the public.16615 U.S.C § 6501. COPPA provides young people with no protection from parents who overshare or allow others to overshare without the young person’s consent.167Id. And it completely ignores the largest demographic of young

people online, teenagers, as it defines “child” as a person under the age of thirteen.168Id.

 Ultimately, the federal government has failed to respect a young person’s online privacy and has failed to pass legislation holding online companies accountable when children are harmed due to or through online conduct. To fill the void left by lax federal laws in this space, many states have entered this space, attempting to create new laws that both recognize a child’s interest in online privacy and the state’s role in holding third parties accountable for online harm.169Steinberg, supra note 14, at 461 (“States have stepped in to fill the gaps left open by federal lawmakers. The laws in this area are relatively new, infrequently enforced, and challenging for many families, lawyers, and even judges to understand.” (footnote omitted)). While these laws are an important step in protecting children online, they also have significant flaws of their own. One issue these laws present is the question of federal preemption. However,

[t]he Ninth Circuit recently held that the Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act, which gives the Federal Trade Commission authority to regulate the online collection of personal information from children under the age of 13, does not preempt consistent state law, potentially increasing the risk of class action litigation based on alleged COPPA violations.170Amy Heath & Kathryn Cahoy, Ninth Circuit Holds COPPA Does Not Preempt Consistent State Law Claims Premised on COPPA Violations, Covington & Burling LLP: Inside Privacy (Jan. 17, 2023), https://www.insideprivacy.com/childrens-privacy/ninth-circuit-holds-coppa-does-not-preempt-consistent-state-law-claims-premised-on-coppa-violations [https://perma.cc/VM8G-85QB] (discussing Jones v. Google LLC, 56 F.4th 735 (9th Cir. 2022)); see also Steinberg, supra note 14, at 464.

Without expressly stating that it disagreed with the courts in Hubbard and H.K. Farewell, the Ninth Circuit opined that since the state laws at issue were not inconsistent with the goals of COPPA, the state claims could move forward. A rehearing was recently denied. This is a good example of how novel these issues are for courts, leaving much confusion for policymakers and families.

Id. (footnotes omitted).

The state law claims in Jones v. Google LLC provided families with a potential private cause of action for conduct that also violated COPPA.171See Jones v. Google LLC, 56 F.4th 735, 738–39 (9th Cir. 2022).

Another issue is that state laws aimed at protecting children online vary. Florida passed a law in 2024 that prohibits social media sites from allowing individuals under the age of fourteen to create accounts.172Fla. Stat. § 501.1736 (2024). It gives parents the authority to decide whether their fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds can use the social media platform.173Id. Florida’s new law also “requires pornographic or sexually explicit websites to use age verification to prevent minors from accessing sites that are inappropriate for children.”174Desantis, supra note 47; Fla. Stat. § 501.1737 (2024). Like COPPA, most state laws place parents in control of their children’s personal information when it is shared online, whether by the young person or by others. Husch Blackwell LLP, a law firm that provides services to multiple types of businesses, offers a state privacy law tracker, which is regularly updated to provide overviews of new state laws that are being introduced to provide protections for young people online.1752024 State Children’s Privacy Law Tracker, Husch Blackwell, https://www.huschblackwell.com/2024-state-childrens-privacy-law-tracker [https://perma.cc/5PGB-XCNQ]. California, Connecticut, and Florida are three states with new laws specifically focused on children’s privacy.176See Shelby Dolen, Children’s State Privacy Law Update and Tracker Released, Byte Back: Husch Blackwell’s Data Priv. & Cybersecurity Legal Res. (Jan. 25, 2024), https://www.bytebacklaw.com/2024/01/childrens-state-privacy-law-update-and-tracker-released [https://perma.cc/3QRW-QZCJ]. Colorado, Hawaii, Illinois, Maryland, Minnesota, New Mexico, New York, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Vermont, Virginia, and West Virginia all have or have had pending legislation in this arena.177Id.

Whether state or federal, most existing and proposed laws in this space recognize the central role of parents in controlling the upbringing of their children.178See, e.g., Fla. Stat. § 501.1736 (2024). But cf. Cal. Civ. Code § 1798.99.31(a)(8) (2022) (“If the online service, product, or feature allows the child’s parent, guardian, or any other consumer to monitor the child’s online activity or track the child’s location, provide an obvious signal to the child when the child is being monitored or tracked.”). The laws give parents the ability to control the flow of information others share online about their kids,179See Fla. Stat. § 501.1736(3)(b)(3) (2024) (“A social media platform shall . . . [a]llow the confirmed parent or guardian of an account holder who is 14 or 15 years of age to request that the minor’s account be terminated. Termination must be effective within 10 business days after such request.”). For further discussion, see generally Naomi Cahn, Trusting Remedies for the Child Influencer Space: Blocked Trust Accounts and Child-Beneficiaries, 17 Drexel L. Rev. 971 (2025). require “verifiable parental consent,”18015 U.S.C § 6501(9).

The term “verifiable parental consent” means any reasonable effort (taking into consideration available technology), including a request for authorization for future collection, use, and disclosure described in the notice, to ensure that a parent of a child receives notice of the operator’s personal information collection, use, and disclosure practices, and authorizes the collection, use, and disclosure, as applicable, of personal information and the subsequent use of that information before that information is collected from that child.

Id.
and provide parents with mechanisms to receive notice of how their children’s information is being used online.181Id. But these laws do not limit what parents share about their children online, nor do they limit how parents might harm their children through their own online conduct. They do not curtail parents’ rights at all and generally do not contemplate situations where parents may be the perpetrators violating the rights of their own children.182See generally Blunt, supra note 123.

That said, the Illinois state legislature was the first state to recognize that there are times when a parent’s use of social media may present a risk of harm to children.183Originally passed in 2023 as 820 Ill. Comp. Stat. 205/2.6, 12.6 (Pub. Act 103-0556, eff. July 1, 2024), the law has been repealed and replaced within a larger overhaul of Illinois’ child labor regime. See Child Labor Law of 2024, Pub. Act 103-0721, § 95, Ill. Comp. Stat 206/95; see also Kate Walter, Illinois Legislation First to Protect the Children of Influencers, The Daily Northwestern (Sept. 27, 2023), https://dailynorthwestern.com/2023/09/27/lateststories/illinois-legislation-first-to-protect-the-children-of-influencers [https://perma.cc/4WMS-S9WX] (“The law applies to children featured in 30% of their parents’ content over a 30-day period. It requires influencers to share their earnings with children featured in the content if it earns at least 10 cents per view.”). That law

provides that a vlogger who features a minor child in a specified amount of the vlogger’s content shared on an online platform must set aside a specified amount of gross earnings on the video content in a trust account to be preserved for the benefit of the minor upon reaching the age of majority.184Nat’l Conf. of State Legislatures, Social Media and Children 2023 Legislation Summary (Jan. 26, 2024), https://www.ncsl.org/technology-and-communication/social-media-and-children-2023-legislation [https://web.archive.org/web/20250926130805/https://www.ncsl.org/technology-and-communication/social-media-and-children-2023-legislation].

The law applies to all influencers whose content features children in this way, not just to parents, but importantly does not provide a parental consent bypass mechanism, as some other legislation in the children’s privacy arena does. This law, like California’s Coogan Law, protects the earnings of child performers.185Kate Walter, Illinois Legislation First to Protect the Children of Influencers, Daily Northwestern (Sep. 27, 2023), https://dailynorthwestern.com/2023/09/27/lateststories/illinois-legislation-first-to-protect-the-children-of-influencers [https://perma.cc/5YS5-3ADN]. Other states are following suit,186See Fortesa Latifi, These States Are Trying to Require Influencer Parents to Pay Their Kids, Teen Vogue (Feb. 1, 2024), https://www.teenvogue.com/story/these-states-are-trying-to-require-influencer-parents-to-pay-their-kids [https://perma.cc/E259-TZNZ].

In what seems like indication of a tide change over the last month, at least six other states—Maryland, California, Georgia, Missouri, Ohio, and Arizona—have introduced legislation that would mirror Illinois’s groundbreaking legislation that entitles child influencers under the age of 16 to “at least 30% of the [adult vlogger’s] compensated video content produced within a 30-day period [which] included the likeness, name, or photograph of the minor,” if the content meets a certain monetization threshold.

Id. See also Cahn, supra note 179.
and the Uniform Law Commission is studying the viability of a model law that other states can adopt to protect the earnings of child influencers.187Child Digital Entertainers Committee, Unif. L. Comm’n (2024), https://www.uniformlaws.org/committees/community-home?communitykey=c9b45313-8cf8-4494-a04f-01948aa53caa [https://perma.cc/W755-9739].

One issue that has been underexplored in legal scholarship or court opinions is that of parental rights in the context of employment contracts governed by Coogan Law-type protections for minors. While parents generally can control the upbringing of their children and direct their involvement and relationships with others, a parent’s signature on an entertainment contract is not binding on the minor child.188Bonnie E. Berry, Practice in a Minor Key, L.A. Law., May 2002, at 29, 31.

However, a parental signature does not validate an entertainment contract with a minor that has not been court approved. If the legislature intended that a parent’s signature would serve the same purpose as obtaining court confirmation pursuant to Family Code Section 6751, it is highly unlikely anyone would ever need to petition the court for approval. The intent of the legislature was to allow judicial scrutiny of entertainment agreements involving minors in order to determine the reasonableness and fairness of the provisions contained in each agreement. If a parent’s acceptance and execution of the agreement were sufficient, there would be no need for the judicial supervision mandated by the legislature. Additionally, for public policy reasons, an agreement is not enforceable against the minor simply because it contains a parental signature. To enforce a contract obligating a minor to perform promotes involuntary servitude.

Id.
Parents can be charged with a misdemeanor if they violate child labor laws governing a child’s working hours.189Id. at 31 (“Parents and employers who violate [provisions outlined by California’s Division of Labor Standards Enforcement] can be charged with a misdemeanor.”). However, when the parent is the one setting the hours for a child to be engaged in video-taking activity for monetized sharenting, federal labor laws do not apply.190Federal child labor laws do not account for this kind of labor, and several states have now legislated on child labor for social media. See supra notes 181, 184. Compare 29 U.S.C. § 203(l)(1) (stating that minors are exempt from child labor laws where they are “[e]mploy[ed] by a parent or a person standing in a parent’s place of his own child or a child in his custody under the age of sixteen years in any occupation other than manufacturing, mining, or an occupation found by the Secretary to be particularly hazardous . . . .”), with 820 Ill. Comp. Stat 206/95 (providing regulation for paying children who are featured in content being produced by someone other than themselves).

A literature review suggests there are few cases discussing the intersection of child abuse and neglect proceedings and the role of parents in managing a child’s entertainment career.191See Berry, supra note 186, at 31. However, the Court of Appeal for the Fourth District of California did have an opportunity to explore this space in Suleman v. Superior Court.192Suleman v. Superior Ct., 180 Cal. App. 4th 1287 (2010). Suleman is the mother to octuplets, born in 2009.193Id. at 1291. The family was the subject of much media attention—Suleman being colloquially known as “Octomom”194See octoMOM and the Octuplets (@nataliesuleman), Instagram, https://www.instagram.com/nataliesuleman/?hl=en [https://perma.cc/Z63Y-L6VF]. —and has had multiple business opportunities stemming from their unique family. A stranger to the family, Paul Petersen, filed a petition seeking appointment of a guardian of the octuplets’ estates to protect the children’s financial interests.195Suleman, 180 Cal. App. 4th at 1291. The court found the allegations in the petition “insufficient to infringe on a parent’s

civil rights or to rebut the presumption under California law that a parent is competent to manage the finances of his or her children.”196Id.

The court considered the role of the guardianship court in providing for the safety and well-being of the children, recognizing that dependency proceedings also exist to look out for the “safety and well-being of children.”197Id. at 1295 (“The Welfare and Institutions Code creates a statutory scheme that grants broad powers for the exercise of a court’s jurisdiction to intervene in familial relationships, in order to protect the safety and well-being of children.”). But unlike a dependency proceeding, which is initiated by the state, a guardianship proceeding is initiated by a private party. Once a private party initiates such a proceeding, a court must determine if the parent can care for his or her own children without intervention.198Id.; see also Campbell v. Wright, 130 Cal. 380, 383 (1900) (“[T]he prima facie presumption is that the parent is competent; and hence the court is not authorized to appoint another as guardian, unless it finds to the contrary.”). If a parent lacks the capacity to do so, a court may appoint a guardian.199Id. at 1297. The court explained that “[t]he right to raise one’s own children as one sees fit is a matter of federal due process.”200Id. at 1296. Citing Prince v. Massachusetts, it reiterated that

[i]t is cardinal with us that the custody, care and nurture of the child reside first in the parents, whose primary function and freedom include preparation for obligations the state can neither supply nor hinder. And it is in recognition of this that these decisions have respected the private realm of family life which the state cannot enter.201Id. (emphasis added) (citing Prince v. Massachusetts, 321 U.S. 158, 166 (1944)).

Suleman is notable for three reasons. First, it recognizes the intersection of child welfare law and guardianship matters relevant to children who engage with the entertainment industry. While the Suleman octuplets rose to fame before kid and mom-influencing took center stage on social media, third parties voiced concern about their well-being and sought out a mechanism to provide for their safety. Next, the case noted the importance of a parent’s right to control the upbringing of their children at the outset, not even providing the third party or the court leeway to enter the private space of family life as referenced in Prince. Lastly, the case highlights that, while a scheme did exist to investigate and remedy abuse or neglect, a third party such as Petersen lacked standing to initiate this particular investigation.202Id. at 1300 (“A petition must contain ultimate facts, not speculation as to what circumstances might exist. It is the burden of the petitioner to plead those facts. Petersen’s probate petition stands or falls on its own merits, and it is manifestly inadequate.”).

This scheme is vastly different from the scheme most states use to initiate child abuse and neglect investigations. Inherent in child abuse and neglect reporting requirements is the general principle that anyone who “has reasonable cause to suspect” child abuse or neglect must report it, and some even designate certain third parties as mandatory reporters.203See, e.g., Fla. Stat. § 39.201.

[P]erson is required to report immediately to the central abuse hotline established in s. 39.101, in writing, through a call to the toll-free telephone number, or through electronic reporting, if he or she knows, or has reasonable cause to suspect, that any of the following has occurred: a. Child abuse, abandonment, or neglect by a parent or caregiver, which includes, but is not limited to, when a child is abused, abandoned, or neglected by a parent, legal custodian, caregiver, or other person responsible for the child’s welfare or when a child is in need of supervision and care and has no parent, legal custodian, or responsible adult relative immediately known and available to provide such supervision and care. b. Child abuse by an adult other than a parent, legal custodian, caregiver, or other person responsible for the child’s welfare. The central abuse hotline must immediately electronically transfer such reports to the appropriate county sheriff’s office. 2. Any person who knows, or has reasonable cause to suspect, that a child is the victim of sexual abuse or juvenile sexual abuse shall report such knowledge or suspicion to the central abuse hotline, including if the alleged incident involves a child who is in the custody of or under the protective supervision of the department.

Id.
While Petersen lacked standing under California’s guardianship laws to initiate an investigation as to Suleman’s failure to protect her children, all individuals have standing to call a state child abuse hotline. Moreover, while Petersen’s petition failed for lack of factual allegations, reasonable suspicion is all that is needed to make a hotline call—in fact, individuals are encouraged to report suspected abuse even when they personally do not have evidence of whether the abuse occurred or not.204Va. Dep’t of Soc. Servs., A Guide for Mandated Reporters in Recognizing and Reporting Child Abuse & Neglect 21 (July 2019), https://www.dss.virginia.gov/family/cps/mandated_reporters/cwse5691/story_content/external_files/Mandated%20Reporter%20Guide.pdf [https://perma.cc/U6A4-9NBU].

The purpose of mandated reporting is to identify suspected abused and neglected children as soon as possible so that they can be protected from further harm. CPS cannot act until a report is made. As a mandated reporter, you play a critical role in preventing any future harm to children. Without detection, reporting, and intervention, these children may remain victims for the rest of their lives. Abused children don’t just grow up and forget their childhood. They can carry physical and emotional scars throughout their lives, and may repeat the pattern of abuse or neglect with their own children.

Id.
It is for the state to conduct the investigation and bring forth facts if they indeed exist.205Id.; see also About the Florida Abuse Hotline, Fla. Dept. of Child. & Families, https://www.myflfamilies.com/services/abuse-hotline/about [https://perma.cc/F9F7-XAWX] (“The Florida Abuse Hotline serves as the central reporting center for allegations of abuse, neglect, and/or exploitation for all children and vulnerable adults in Florida.”).

When someone in the United States believes that a parent is placing their child at risk of harm due to their sharenting practices, they may call the state’s child abuse and neglect hotline.206See, e.g., Fla. Dep’t of Child. & Fams., supra note 7, at 10. However, the state hotline is unlikely to accept such a call, as the risks of oversharenting are unlikely to fall under state definitions of child abuse or neglect.207Id. at 6–8; Va. Dep’t Soc. Servs., supra note 204, at 3. It also may not be clear where the sharenting is taking place. Even if the hotline call is accepted, state investigators lack the training necessary to assess the risk of harm caused by the parent’s sharenting practices. Child welfare professionals lack the tools to provide family preservation services208See, e.g., Va. Dep’t Soc. Servs., supra note 204, at 29. when parents lack information about the harms of oversharenting. And state attorneys, child welfare attorneys, and judges lack legal mechanisms to hold parents accountable when their over-sharing causes significant harm to their children.209See, e.g., Fla. Stat. § 39.201.

C. International Approaches to Protecting Children’s Online Privacy

With the exception of the United States, all United Nations member countries are parties to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child.210The United States signed the Convention in 1995 but remains the only UN member state that has not ratified it. See Convention on the Rights of the Child, Nov. 20, 1989, 1577 U.N.T.S. 3 [hereinafter UNCRC]; see also United Nations Treaty Collection, https://treaties.un.org/doc/Publication/MTDSG/Volume%20I/Chapter%20IV/IV-11.en.pdf [https://perma.cc/ZT3A-PCSB] (listing signatories and ratification status). As parties to this Convention, our international peer countries are also guided by General Comment No. 25 of the Committee on the Rights of the Child, on Children’s Rights in Relation to the Digital Environment.211U.N. Comm. on the Rts. of the Child, General Comment No. 25 (2021) on Children’s Rights in Relation to the Digital Environment, U.N. Doc. CRC/C/GC/25 (Mar. 2, 2021). This document outlines the rights young people hold when engaging online and when others engage in online behavior that could impact them, such as parental online sharing.212Id. at ¶ 11. While sharenting is not mentioned by name, the document acknowledges the concept, discussing how a child’s right to privacy could be violated not only by individuals outside of the home, but also by those closest to them within the home, specifically including their own parents. Recognizing that children may at times need privacy from their parents, General Comment No. 25 states, “[t]hreats may also arise from children’s own activities and from the activities of family members, peers or others, for example, by parents sharing photographs online or a stranger sharing information about a child.”213Id.

Data may include information about, inter alia, children’s identities, activities, location, communication, emotions, health and relationships. Certain combinations of personal data, including biometric data, can uniquely identify a child. Digital practices, such as automated data processing, profiling, behavioural targeting, mandatory identity verification, information filtering and mass surveillance are becoming routine. Such practices may lead to arbitrary or unlawful interference with children’s right to privacy; they may have adverse consequences on children, which can continue to affect them at later stages of their lives.

Id.

Moreover, the international community recognizes that much of the information parents share online about their children may implicate data protection laws.214Sheila Donovan, “Sharenting”: The Forgotten Children of the GDPR, 4 Peace Hum. Rts. Governance 35, 45–46 (2020) (“ ‘Sharenting’ has not, as yet, been analysed by the European Court of Human Rights and in the event of that occurring, it is anticipated that the Court might attempt to balance the child’s right to privacy and the parent’s right to freedom of expression . . . .”). When the European Union first drafted the General Data Protection Regulation,215Regulation 2016/679 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 27 April 2016 on the Protection of Natural Persons with Regard to the Processing of Personal Data and on the Free Movement of Such Data, and Repealing Directive 95/46/EC (General Data Protection Regulation), art. 83(5), 2016 O.J. (L 119) 1 [hereinafter GDPR]. it considered the issue of parents (and others) sharing personal data on social media, and ultimately decided that such information, shared for personal or household purposes, would be excluded from regulation.216GDPR, supra note 215, art. 2(2)(c); see also id. recital 18. However, sharing for commercial purposes, such as what this Article considers “beyond sharenting,” would be regulated, as such behavior is considered using personal information for commercial purposes.217Claire Bessant & Maximilian Schnebbe, Does the GDPR Offer a Solution to the ‘Problem’ of Sharenting?, 46 Datenschutz und Datensicherheit 352 (2022). While in the United States such online disclosures are viewed as speech, the European Union views the content as a form of data.218Stacey Steinberg, How Europe’s ‘Right to Be Forgotten’ Could Protect Kids’ Online Privacy in the U.S., Wash. Post (July 11, 2018), https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/parenting/wp/2018/07/11/how-europes-right-to-be-forgotten-could-protect-kids-online-privacy-in-the-u-s/ [https://perma.cc/ZJP8-XRCE]. As such, the European Union can regulate and protect such data in many ways the United States cannot. Additionally, the right to privacy in many countries is recognized as an important right that often must be balanced against another’s right to free speech.219Ravi Antani, The Resistance of Memory: Could the European Union’s Right to Be Forgotten Exist in the United States?, 30 Berkeley Tech. L.J. 1173, 1183–84 (2015).

The United States’ climate for establishing a right to be forgotten fundamentally differs from that in Europe due to important cultural and historical experiences in the two regions. Many European member states have developed a deep respect for privacy, growing in part out of the post-Holocaust skepticism about the power dynamic created by personal information being available to a central authority. In contrast, the right to free speech has become paramount in the United States, even with extreme forms of speech that would implicate significant privacy and dignity concerns in Europe.

Id. (citing Francesca Bignami, European Versus American Liberty: A Comparative Privacy Analysis of Anti-Terrorism Data-Mining, 48 B.C. L. Rev. 609, 688 (2007)).
This offers individuals outside of the United States greater privacy protections than they experience stateside.220Id.

France has been a leader in recognizing a child’s right to privacy, even in contexts where that right conflicts with rights of parents.221Magalie Dansac Le Clerc & Juliette Leportois, France Introduces New Law to Enhance the Protection of Children’s Rights in France, Connect on Tech (Mar. 19, 2024), http://www.connectontech.com/france-introduces-new-law-to-enhance-the-protection-of-childrens-rights-in-france [https://perma.cc/AU3J-38AN]. In 2024, the French National Assembly voted unanimously to pass a law protecting the images of minors and providing some guidelines about how parents could share about their children online.222Loi 2024-120 du 19 Février 2024 Visant à Garantir le Respect du Droit à l’Image des Enfants [Law 2024-120 of February 19, 2024 Aimed at Guaranteeing Respect for Children’s Image Rights], Journal Officiel de la République Française [J.O.] [Official Gazette of France], Feb. 20, 2024, p. 103. The law recognizes that children have a right to privacy and that parents generally are the ones tasked with protecting that right.223Code civil [C. civ.] [Civil Code] art. 372-1 (Fr.) (“Parents jointly protect the right to the image of their minor child, in compliance with the right to privacy mentioned in Article 9.”). It also provides that the parents shall, according to the child’s age and maturity, inform and include the child in these kinds of decisions to model and pass down healthy habits.224Id. (“Parents associate the child with the exercise of his right to the image, according to his age and degree of maturity.”). However, it also allows for a judge to step in when parents, jointly or individually, do not adequately protect their child’s privacy right.225Adithyan P, France’s New Law Bans Parents from Sharing Photos of Their Children on Social Media, News 18 (Mar. 20, 2023), https://www.news18.com/buzz/frances-new-law-bans-parents-from-sharing-photos-of-their-children-on-social-media-7337977.html [https://perma.cc/9WE8-5DET]
French lawmakers have approved a new legislation that seeks to protect the privacy of children online. The new law prevents parents from posting pictures of their kids on the internet without their permission. The proposal was presented by MP Bruno Studer, who said that it aims to empower parents and to teach young people that their parents don’t have an absolute right over their image. The law was unanimously approved by the French National Assembly. Studer highlighted that a 13-year-old child has an average of 1,300 images of themselves circulating on the internet. These photos can be used for child pornography or lead to bullying in the school environment. He also mentioned that 50% of the photographs exchanged on child pornography forums were initially posted by parents on social media. The first two articles of the bill aim to establish the protection of privacy as one of the responsibilities of parents as holders of parental authority. The family judge may make a forced partial delegation of parental authority in extreme cases where parents misuse their child’s image rights. Struder is a member of the delegation for children’s rights, founded in September 2022.

Id.
When the “dissemination of the child’s image by his parents seriously harms the child’s dignity or moral integrity,” the judge is entitled to reassign the right to the child’s image to a concerned third party or the non-offending parent.226Code civil [C. civ.] [Civil Code] art. 377 (Fr.) (as amended by Loi 2024-120 of Feb. 19, 2024).

When the dissemination of the child’s image by his parents seriously harms the child’s dignity or moral integrity, the individual, the establishment or the departmental service of social assistance to the child who took in the child or a family member may also refer the matter to the judge for the purpose of having the exercise of the right to the child’s image delegated.

Id.

III.  A New Framework for Regulating Parental Online Conduct

The United States currently has sparse and scattered laws aimed at regulating parents’ online conduct. While some states appear to be stepping in to protect the earnings of children whose images generate financial profit online,227See, e.g., 820 Ill. Comp. Stat. 206/95, 206/100 (2025) (formerly 820 Ill. Comp. Stat. 205/2.6, 205/12.6, repealed 2025). they have yet to create comprehensive laws that address or remedy the harm parents can cause through online sharing for increased social capital, financial capital, or otherwise. Furthermore, few standards exist to delineate low-risk sharenting from higher-risk sharenting that exploits or risks exploiting children.228See What You Need to Know About “Sharenting”: Expert Tips on Protecting Your Child’s Privacy in the Digital Age, UNICEF, https://www.unicef.org/parenting/child-care/sharenting [https://web.archive.org/web/20251009065647/https://www.unicef.org/parenting/child-care/sharenting].

Family preservation principles can and should be applied in cases of exploitative sharenting to both empower parents to make better decisions for their families and to protect of children from the harm of oversharing. This aligns with current systems aimed at curbing abuse and neglect, and it brings this practice into the protection child welfare systems can provide to families online. This requires an educated child welfare workforce, well-versed in the risks of exploitative sharenting but also able to guide families toward smarter online sharing practices without alienating ill-informed parents who may benefit from efforts to strengthen families.

A. Evolving Standards of Online Conduct to Regulate Abusive Sharenting

States have not precluded parents from online sharing except in the most limited of circumstances.229See Tinsley v. Tinsley, 211 So. 3d 405, 420 (La. Ct. App. 2017) (declining to enjoin father from posting pictures of child on social media); see also Shak v. Shak, 144 N.E.3d 274 (Mass. 2020) (holding nondisparagement order in custody proceedings was impermissible prior restraint where no showing of grave, imminent harm to child); see also Steinberg, supra note 14 (discussing Tinsley, in which the Louisiana appellate court declined to enjoin a father from posting embarrassing pictures of his child, reluctant to “interfere with a fit parent’s constitutional right to parent,” and Shak, in which the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court held that a prior restraint on parental speech requires a showing of grave, imminent harm to the child, which the mother could not meet where the child was too young to read or access social media). Courts have occasionally been asked to limit parents from oversharing online in child custody and dependency cases, but judges are tasked with evaluating these cases without any uniform standards or expert agreement as to the limits of appropriate parental online conduct and conduct that is potentially harmful to children.230Steinberg, supra note 55. Without such guidance, similarly situated cases may be adjudicated drastically differently from courtroom to courtroom, and many cases of children needing protection likely go unheard due to a lack of clear mechanisms for concerned community members or state actors to bring forth an investigation or suit against potentially offending parents.231See, e.g., Suleman v. Superior Ct., 180 Cal. App. 4th 1287, 1291 (2010).

Some would likely suggest that sharenting is a realm of family life where the state should not enter. However, there are many realms of family life that the state refused to enter in the past that it now, thankfully, wades into thoroughly. Like sharenting, parental discipline was once a realm of family life where the state refused to enter.232Child Abuse—A History, Encyclopedia.com, https://www.encyclopedia.com/reference/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/child-abuse-history [https://web.archive.org/web/20150526142730/http://www.nytimes.com/1995/10/08/magazine/the-society-that-pretends-to-love-children.html?pagewanted=3].

Parental discipline was typically severe, and parents, teachers, and ministers found support for stern discipline in the Bible. Several verses in Proverbs (Proverbs 22:15, Proverbs 23:13–14, and Proverbs 29:15), summed up in the phrase, “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” were cited as justification for beating children. It should be noted that the biblical “rod” referred to was a shepherd’s rod, used to guide the sheep in the right direction, not to beat the sheep. Church elders taught that children were born corrupted by original sin, and the only path to salvation was “to beat the Devil out of the child.” (In Christian theology, original sin is humankind’s inherent tendency to sin as a result of Adam’s rebellion against God.) Some colonial legislatures even passed “stubborn children laws,” giving parents the legal right to kill unruly children. According to journalist Roger Rosenblatt, Massachusetts enacted a law in 1646 that allowed the death penalty for a rebellious child, though the law was never enforced (“The Society That Pretends to Love Children,” New York Times Magazine, October 8, 1995).

Id.
Legal corporal punishment and child abuse all fell into the same “bucket” of parental privilege two hundred years ago.233Id. It was only later that the state recognized that, at times, children needed protection from caregivers who used their parental privilege in an abusive manner.234Marvin Ventrell, The Practice of Law for Children, 28 Hamline J. Pub. L. & Pol’y 75, 85–86 (2006).

Mary Ellen Wilson, a 10-year-old girl, had been abused and neglected by her caretakers for years. In 1871, a church worker, no longer able to tolerate Mary Ellen’s cries, convinced Henry Bergh from the New York Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals to help save the child. Mary Ellen was beaten routinely, cut with scissors, never allowed outside, locked in a bedroom, and given a small rug on which to sleep. Mr. Gerry, who had been Mr. Bergh’s legal counsel, eventually devised a writ de homine replegiando (similar to a writ of habeas corpus and not the animal rights theory of popular myth in child protection circles) and convinced a New York judge to allow these citizens to save Mary Ellen. This case is often thought to be the first child protection case. Although Mary Ellen was not the first child protection case, it is significant in that it recognizes that there are degrees of child maltreatment that society will not tolerate. It is not remarkable in its acknowledgment that the state may remove a child from a caregiver. Clearly the state had been exercising that authority for over a century as to vagrant and “pre-criminal” children. The case, and the founding of the NYSPCC, led to the founding of numerous anti-cruelty to children societies and the extension of the states’ parens patriae authority to child abuse victims. These child abuse cases, however, represent a small number of children’s cases as society’s focus continued to be vagrant children.

Id. (citing Mason P. Thomas, Jr., Child Abuse and Neglect Part I: Historical Overview, Legal Matrix, and Social Perspectives, 50 N.C. L. Rev. 293, 308–11 (1972).
To protect children from child abuse, states needed to create a new system for community members to report abuse, for law enforcement to investigate the abuse, and for judges to adjudicate abuse in a manner that both recognized the rights of parents to discipline their children235Id. at 84. and the state’s right under parens patriae to protect children from online harm caused by their parents.

Though the courts and the legislature have not taken up the issue of exploitative sharenting in earnest yet, grassroots movements made up of concerned viewers have become a staple in forcing many of these influencers to wholly re-evaluate their content and the return on investment. As detailed in An Update on Our Family       on HBO, online sleuths have investigated Myka and James Stauffer. For many years, the Stauffers featured their young children, including their adopted son Huxley, on their YouTube vlog, a channel with approximately 700,000 subscribers. Myka and James Stauffer shared information about their struggles caring for the young boy, who apparently had multiple medical and behavioral issues that the parents struggled to address adequately. Huxley began appearing on the channel less and less frequently until eventually, he disappeared entirely from the vlog. The vlog’s vocal audience expressed outrage. An online firestorm ensued, wherein viewers made both online and offline accusations that the parents had mistreated the young boy. Eventually, the parents announced their decision to “rehome” Huxley, causing even more public fury.

Just as the Mary Ellen story highlighted the need to better investigate and regulate parental discipline, the Stauffer story and HBO documentary might highlight the need to better investigate and regulate sharenting. Amateur internet sleuthing, for all the good it has done so far, is a limited resource and not the proper mechanism for creating long-lasting, equitable, systemic change. The greater public has limited resources for investigation, internal differences of opinion, and other shortcomings that render the apparatus unfit for this kind of regulation and for addressing the wide gray areas that exist within the practice of sharenting. Instead, legislators should be able to use the momentum of the movement and documentary to expand our existing legal framework to include a broader definition of abuse as was done with corporal punishment.

Statutes are in place to protect young people from online harm caused by third parties. For example, many states have cyberbullying laws criminalizing individuals who bully others through digital platforms.236Adele Kimmel & Nancy Willard, Cyberbullying, from Schoolhouse to Courthouse, Trial, Jan. 2018, at 20–21, https://www.publicjustice.net/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Cyberbullying-From-Schoolhouse-to-Courthouse-Adele-Kimmel-Nancy-Willard-January-2018.pdf [https://perma.cc/DT4E-DV36].

Bullying has been a problem for generations, but the scope and depth of its harm has greatly expanded through the use of cell phones, computers, and tablets to intentionally and repeatedly harass, threaten, humiliate, or otherwise harm another person. Examples of cyberbullying include sending hurtful text messages; spreading rumors electronically; posting videos mocking other students on video-sharing websites, such as You Tube, or social media platforms, such as Instagram or Snapchat; creating webpages to humiliate other students; and posting or electronically sharing intimate images or messages sent privately between two students.

Id.
However, unlike the traditional children’s free speech jurisprudence, these laws do not contemplate situations where “the call is coming from inside the house”: situations where the bully is in control of the victim and their ability to assert their rights.237These laws do consider when children are bullied within the home by individuals sending online messages from outside the home. See, e.g., Karly Zande, When the School Bully Attacks in the Living Room: Using Tinker to Regulate Off-Campus Student Cyberbullying, 13 Barry L. Rev. 103 (2009). These decisions rest on a child’s right to free speech. See, e.g., J.S. ex rel. M.S. v. Manheim Twp. Sch. Dist., 263 A.3d 295, 317 (Pa. 2021); S. Ernie Walton, In Loco Parentis, First Amendment & Parental Rights—Can They Coexist in Public Schools?, 55 Tex. Tech L. Rev. 461 (2023); Mary A. Lentz, Lentz School Security § 1:16 (2023). Additionally, the federal government has comprehensive laws protecting individuals’ medical and educational records from unwanted third-party disclosure that rely on parental enforcement.238Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act of 1974, 20 U.S.C. § 1232g; Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996, 42 U.S.C. § 1320d–2. And similarly, these laws do not contemplate situations where the parent is the one exposing these records.239Steinberg, supra note 14.

The evolution of our legal system’s approach to corporal punishment and child abuse did not develop in a vacuum or overnight. It evolved over time with an infusion of child safety experts, psychologists, and legal experts as policymakers to develop a uniform way to balance a parent’s right to control the upbringing of their children with the child’s need for safety.240See Ventrell, supra note 234. What started as a state-by-state approach has developed into a relatively uniform, federally mandated system of laws that ensure children are protected from abuse in every state.241Id.

B. A Path Forward

This section sets forth key principles for federal and state lawmakers to consider when attempting to protect minors from abusive forms of oversharenting.242Steinberg, supra note 14, at 878. It is critical to note at the outset that any attempt to limit parents’ rights to share on social media must be done with the strictness of scrutiny, as a parent’s right to determine how to raise their child is a fundamental right under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.243See Pierce v. Soc’y of Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary, 268 U.S. 510, 534–35 (1925); Prince v. Massachusetts, 321 U.S. 158, 166 (1941); Troxel v. Granville, 530 U.S. 57, 65 (2000); Meyer v. Nebraska, 262 U.S. 390, 400 (1923); Wisconsin v. Yoder, 406 U.S. 205, 232 (1972) (“This primary role of the parents in the upbringing of their children is now established beyond debate as an enduring American tradition.”). Most parents share responsibly, and most parents want to learn how to share in ways that keep their children safe from harm.244See Maeve Duggan, Amanda Lenhart, Cliff Lampe & Nicole B. Ellison, Parents & Social Media, Pew Rsch. Ctr. (July 16, 2015), https://www.pewresearch.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/9/2015/07/Parents-and-Social-Media-FIN-DRAFT-071515.pdf [https://perma.cc/Y6D9-UTB7]; see also Ferrara et al., supra note 118; Walrave et al., supra note 142.

  1. Family Preservation

A key principle in child welfare policy is that the role of the state is to help strengthen families primarily, aiming to eliminate the need for removal in most cases that come to the attention of child abuse and neglect investigators.245See Kristine E. Nelson, Family Preservation—What Is It?, 19 Child. & Youth Servs. Rev. 101, 102 (1997).

Family preservation has been developing as a secondary goal of the child welfare system for almost 100 years. The primary goal, child protection, dates from the efforts of charitable organizations in the 19th century to rescue children from abuse, neglect, and, all too often, poverty by placing them in institutions or foster homes far from their families and neighborhoods.

Id.; see also Jacqueline McCroskey, What is Family Preservation and Why Does it Matter?, 5:2 J. Fam. Strengths 1 (2001).
Today, child welfare investigators routinely make referrals to provide parents with housing and food assistance, referrals for drug and anger management treatment, and encourage parents to engage in counseling services to be better able to meet their children’s needs.246Circuit 4 Family Preservation Protocol, Fla. Dept. of Child. & Fams. (Feb. 8, 2011), https://www.myflfamilies.com/sites/default/files/2023-05/Circ4-FamPresProt2-11.pdf. The Family First Prevention Services Act of 2018 set forth the government’s strong goal of strengthening families through services provided directly to families, without the need for child welfare courts to intervene.247Family First Prevention Services Act of 2018, Pub. L. No. 115-123, tit. VII (codified in 42 U.S.C. § 671 et seq.); see also Family First Prevention Services Act (FFPSA), Fla. Dep’t of Child. & Fams., https://www.myflfamilies.com/kids/news/family-first-prevention-services-act-ffpsa [https://perma.cc/JG9E-9989].

  1. Identifying Uniform Standards for What Constitutes Sharenting and What Constitutes Abusive Forms of Oversharenting

Currently, there are no federal- or state-sponsored organizations in the United States that have a primary aim of empowering parents to share more responsibly online,248The Department of Homeland Security maintains a list of state-sponsored advice to keep young people safe online. It contains tips to teach to young children and teens, but it does not mention the role of a parent’s online conduct in protecting children from exploitation. Know2Protect: Take Action, Dep’t of Homeland Sec., https://www.dhs.gov/know2protect/take-action [https://perma.cc/SDC3-E2J7]. yet there are a multitude of organizations that seek to educate young people on how they can more safely use social media.249See, e.g., Social Media and Youth Mental Health, Dep’t of Health & Hu. Servs., https://www.hhs.gov/surgeongeneral/priorities/youth-mental-health/social-media/index.html [https://perma.cc/H2DN-C2GJ]. Is it not ironic that, while parents often have little control over their teenager’s social media practices and complete control over their own, the primary focus of online safety organizations is helping parents to encourage their young people to share smarter instead of helping the parents make better choices about their own disclosures to keep their children safe online?250Stacey Steinberg, How Parents Can Share Smarter on Social Media, TEDxVienna (Oct. 2021), https://www.ted.com/talks/stacey_steinberg_how_parents_can_share_smarter_on_social_media?subtitle=en [https://perma.cc/JZJ4-CRLF].

Such organizations are needed. These organizations or working groups should be composed of child welfare professionals, attorneys, cybersecurity experts, law enforcement, mental health providers, public health experts, and young people who have come of age after having grown up shared. Working together, instead of in silos, these groups could begin to formulate sound public policies outlining what conduct constitutes appropriate sharenting, what is questionable sharenting or exists in a gray area, and what is exploitative and harmful sharenting. By bringing these separate groups together, each can offer its own unique expertise to ensure that policies are well-informed, grounded in child safety and social science principles, and able to withstand First Amendment and Due Process constitutional challenges.

  1. Train and Equip Child Welfare Officials

Currently, state law enforcement and child welfare investigators are ill-equipped to understand and investigate exploitative sharenting. State agencies must train personnel to recognize harmful oversharenting and to educate parents about the risks of oversharenting. Most parents engage in online sharenting, so all who interact with families and have opportunities to provide parent education should have the knowledge and tools necessary to delineate whether a parent is simply engaging with their community via their sharenting or whether a parent is placing their child at risk through their disclosures. Parents could also be advised of the important role of privacy in childhood development.251Special thanks to Claire Bessant for making this important contribution to this work. Much of the world has been made aware of the importance and codification of a child’s right to privacy, but as the only non-ratifier of the UNCRC, American parents are less likely to have knowledge of the issue and are immune from any enforcement by the international community.

  1. Update Child Welfare Laws

Legislators, especially at the state level, must provide attorneys with tools to bring forth cases of exploitative and harmful oversharenting. Most parents who share on social media do so in ways that, as of 2026, appear minimally harmful to children252Parents who sharent often choose to utilize privacy settings and adhere to what they believe are reasonable personal boundaries. While many children are embarrassed by some posts, that tends to be the extent of the harm in the vast majority of cases. Ouvrein, supra note 138. and may even provide important and meaningful connections for all individuals within the family unit.253Steinberg, supra note 14. Even parents who share personal information, such as medical updates, likely do so to build family and community connections and wish to share in a way where the benefits to their child greatly outweigh any harm such sharing could cause.

However, the law must be prepared to regulate at the margins and to take action to protect children when parents engage in harmful online sharing practices. Like child removals for abuse or neglect, the state must show that reasonable efforts were made to prevent the need for removal, such as the initiation of the family preservation services discussed above. Any legal action taken against a parent for exploitative over-sharing must only come once parents have had the opportunity to learn about the harms that over-sharing can cause and a meaningful opportunity to adjust their sharing practices. Federal legislatures may wish to also address these issues in future child safety legislation, as children’s online safety has been identified by the U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy, as a public health concern.254U.S. Surgeon Gen., Social Media & Youth Mental Health: Surgeon General’s Advisory, U.S. Dep’t of Health & Hum. Servs. (May 2023), https://www.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/sg-youth-mental-health-social-media-advisory.pdf [https://perma.cc/A9PC-J8NW].

Conclusion

The United States has failed to protect children from the harms caused by their parents’ online conduct. While parents have free speech protections and the right to raise their children as they see fit, they should not have legal protections that enable them to violate their children’s privacy in ways that could cause long-term harm to them as they come of age under the watchful eyes of social media.

Mia’s disclosure to Ms. Drake could have changed her life for the better and led her mother to get the financial and online safety help she needs, if only the child welfare laws were suitably tailored to protect her from the horrors that her mom, unwittingly or not, has subjected her to. These laws, written decades ago, are too focused on harms children face in their offline world and must be expanded to include harms that can be caused by online sharing.

Just as our views regarding child abuse evolved, our views regarding sharenting must evolve. The law can both protect parental autonomy and honor children’s privacy through a comprehensive and multidisciplinary new approach toward protecting children online that allows for thoughtful investigation, education, remediation, and prosecution of parents who use social media in ways that are significantly harmful to their children. This conduct, which falls beyond sharenting, is ripe for legal interventions that reset the balance between a parent’s right to share and a child’s right to online privacy and safety.

 

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 559

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* Master Legal Skills Professor at the University of Florida Levin College of Law, Director of the Center on Children and Families, and Director of the Gator TeamChild Juvenile Law Clinic. Thank you to my research assistant, Megan Sirvent, for her valuable assistance on this Article, to Laura Rosenbury and Nancy Dowd for helping me conceptualize my ideas as I set out to explore this topic, to Interim Dean Merritt McAlister for her generous funding supporting this work, and to Rachel Mason for early discussions that helped me propel my ideas forward. Thank you to Claire Bessant, LeAnn Campbell, Naomi Cahn, Christopher Hampson, Lindsay Hanson, Thomas Haley, Lea Johnston, Lyrissa Lidsky, and Peter Molk for their invaluable feedback on early drafts. Thank you also to the Vermont Law Review, the 5Rights Foundation, and the George Washington University Center for Innovation for the opportunity to discuss the ideas contained within this Article to each respective audience. Thank you to the editors at the Southern California Law Review, particularly Jonathan Scher, Kelcey Sholl, and Yixin Wang.

Regulating Robotaxis

In several sunbelt cities, commercial robotaxi service has arrived. The leading robotaxi company is providing over 400,000 trips per week. The industry claims that robotaxis will save lives and provide convenient and affordable mobility. Critics counter that they will increase congestion, undermine transit, and subject the public to ubiquitous surveillance. We argue that the social impact of robotaxis depends on how they are regulated. We emphasize two points missing from the debate. First, some of the benefits of robotaxis may be political rather than technological—some longstanding public policy goals may become viable in a robotaxi world. Second, letting one private company dominate the transportation system risks monopoly abuse—and regulators can act now to prevent it.

In this Article, we offer a plan to regulate robotaxis. Carefully crafted externality regulation can address pollution, congestion, wear-and-tear on infrastructure, and privacy risks while minimizing distortions in choices between travel modes. Regulators can promote competition by permitting open entry, banning lock-in contracts, and enabling one-stop access to competing networks. And they can protect riders even if competition fails by mandating that fares be transparent and rider-neutral and requiring that robotaxi companies maintain a fleet sufficient for emergencies. Policymakers should take advantage of robotaxi deployment to reimagine the transportation system—liberate land from the tyranny of parking, refocus mass transit investments on high-throughput routes, and expand mobility for people with low incomes and people with disabilities.

Introduction

This Article is about “robotaxis”—motor vehicles without human drivers that are available on demand to paying customers. For nearly a century, the personal motor vehicle has dominated the American conception of travel. Given this, it is easy to forget that we humans have always transported ourselves, our goods, and our messages using a mix of travel modes. Even motorists, after all, become pedestrians after they park. And since the average household vehicle has an occupancy of only 1.5 persons,1Vehicle Technologies Office, FOTW #1333, March 11, 2024: In 2022, the Average Number of Occupants Per Trip for Household Vehicle in the United States Was 1.5, U.S. Dep’t of Energy (Mar. 11, 2024), https://www.energy.gov/eere/vehicles/articles/fotw-1333-march-11-2024-2022-average-number-occupants-trip-household [perma.cc/MX3A-XAEW]. it is also easy to overlook that many of these other modes were and are shared services—carriages, steamboats, trains, streetcars, buses, and taxis—in which the user is not the operator.2Indeed, there is even ample precedent for “driverless” transport: clever horses and other animals that return home on their own (with or without a rider), rivers of logs floating from forests to mills, carrier pigeons delivering messages in war, elevators that outgrew their attendants, Morgantown’s people mover that just turned fifty years old, and automated metro lines that soon followed.

Today, however, “automated vehicle” has become nearly synonymous with “robotaxi.” This is largely because of automated driving’s market leader in the United States, Waymo, as well as its competitors in China. Waymo currently deploys its automated vehicles only in fleets. In Atlanta, Austin, San Francisco, Phoenix, Los Angeles, and Miami, anyone with a smartphone can hail a ride in a robotaxi—and the company promises more cities are coming soon.3See Waymo, https://waymo.com/waymo-one [perma.cc/4HLW-LF9F] (listing cities where Waymo services are currently available and announcing where services will be coming next). In parts of these cities, Waymo’s vehicles are ubiquitous: recently, the Waymo carrying one of us was unable to change lanes because the Waymo next to it refused to let it in—and there were even more Waymos ahead and behind.

Will the robotaxi come to supplant the personal motor vehicle as the twenty-first century’s defining local travel mode? Maybe.

Automated driving has potential advantages. Automated driving might be safer than conventional driving.4See infra Section I.A. People who are unable to drive may be able to ride. Passengers in automated vehicles could use their time more productively than drivers of conventional vehicles.5Bryant Walker Smith, Managing Autonomous Transportation Demand, 52 Santa Clara L. Rev. 1401, 1409–10 (2012) (discussing the value of automated driving given the value drivers place on their time). But these potential advantages apply when comparing many kinds of automated vehicles with conventional vehicles. When comparing robotaxis with personal automated vehicles,6It is also important to consider the possibility of aftermarket kits that allow owners of existing vehicles to convert them to automated operation. This could dramatically change the economics and timescales for AV adoption. they are less relevant. The case for robotaxis isn’t just that they are automated.

Should the robotaxi eclipse the personal car’s dominance? We answer this question with a qualified yes. There are compelling reasons to welcome robotaxis.

First, robotaxis could improve road safety even more than personal automated vehicles. This is because robotaxi fleets are likely to be and remain significantly newer than motor vehicles generally. The mean age of vehicles in the United States today is over twelve years—and growing.7Nishant Parekh & Todd Campau, Average Age of Vehicles Hits New Record in 2024, S&P Global (May 29, 2024), https://www.spglobal.com/mobility/en/research-analysis/average-age-vehicles-united-states-2024.html [https://perma.cc/DM3P-UTMP]. Simply shifting trips to newer conventional vehicles could have a significant safety benefit.8See Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Learn the Facts About New Cars: Why Newer Cars Are Safer Than Ever Before 1 (2020). Shifting them to automated vehicles that are carefully maintained and regularly replaced could have an even greater benefit.

Second, robotaxis could improve accessibility—at least in some senses of the term. They could compete on time and cost, for both riders and system operators, with suburban and rural mass transit that has low ridership and long headways. They could better serve some people who are unable to drive because of income9This is mixed. For a while it may be cheaper to buy an older used car and drive it than to pay for the same amount of travel in a robotaxi—and once one owns that car, the marginal cost of a trip is even cheaper. At the same time, not everyone can afford even that older car. Analogously, even though buying a monthly bus pass tends to be much cheaper than buying single rides, some public transit users buy single tickets because they cannot afford the upfront cost of a monthly pass. or disability.10To date, though, humans have tended to outperform robots in managing the wide range of human mobility needs and limitations. See Douglas Weber & Amos Matsiko, Assistive Robotics Should Seamlessly Integrate Humans and Robots, 8 Sci. Robotics 1 (2023), https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/scirobotics.adl0014 [https://doi.org/10.1126/scirobotics.adl0014]; Linda Sørensen, Dag Thomas Johannesen & Hege Mari Johnsen, Humanoid Robots for Assisting People with Physical Disabilities in Activities of Daily Living: A Scoping Review, 37 Assistive Tech. 203 (2024), https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10400435.2024.2337194 [https://doi.org/10.1080/10400435.2024.2337194]. They might be more reliable than an old car in frequent need of repair.

Third, careful integration of robotaxis might unlock smarter uses of streets and city centers. Robotaxis might obviate the demand for much on-street parking, and that space might in turn be used not only for the much greater queuing zones that pickup and drop-off would require but also for sidewalks, bicycle lanes, and parklets. Robotaxis might also reduce demand for much off-street parking, and that space might in turn be used not only for robotaxi queues and depots but also for more parks, homes, and businesses.

Nonetheless, there are also reasons for caution—and therefore for careful and proactive regulation.

First, robotaxis are likely to compete not only with personal automobiles but also with walking, biking, and communal transit. The history of Uber and Lyft—which are often called Transportation Network Companies (“TNCs”)—is illustrative. As we discuss below, one of the biggest policy challenges is approaching automated driving in a way that appropriately reflects both any advantages it ultimately offers vis-à-vis conventional driving and any disadvantages it presents vis-à-vis more active and communal modes of travel.

Second, reducing the costs of travel, in money and time, may encourage more sprawl and more automotive travel. These could, in turn, create even more local, regional, and global pollution. It is important to remember that there is no such thing as a “zero-emission vehicle.” Even electric vehicles need to get their power from somewhere. And, although it is true that electric vehicles with no tailpipe have no “tailpipe emissions,” they are sources of other pollution. Tires, for example, wear out through contact with the road surface, and this wear is a major source of microplastics.11See Virginia Gewin, Tracking Tire Plastics—and Chemicals—From Road to Plate, Civ. Eats (July 16, 2024), https://civileats.com/2024/07/16/tracking-tire-plastics-and-chemicals-from-road-to-plate (citing David Mennekes & Bernd Nowack, Tire Wear Particle Emissions: Measurement Data Where Are You?, Sci. of Total Env’t, July 15, 2022, at 1, 2 (indicating that tire particles make up between twenty-four and thirty percent of microplastics in Germany, fifty-four percent in China, sixty-one to seventy-nine percent in Sweden, and ninety-four percent in Switzerland)).

Third, these and other externalities are likely to be borne by people other than robotaxi developers, operators, and users. A disabled person who needs assistance boarding a conventional vehicle could be harmed if private robotaxi service replaces mass transit that is subject to more stringent accessibility requirements. People around the world could see their food become more expensive if even greater sprawl further reduces arable land. People who are conducting their lives in public may be subject to greater public and private surveillance if automated driving companies use or share their sensor data for purposes other than driving.12See Bryant Walker Smith, Jeffrey Michael & Johnathon Ehsani, Ideal Enforcement: How Do We Achieve Optimal Enforcement of Traffic Law as Ubiquitous Enforcement Becomes Technologically Conceivable?, 30 Mich. Tech. L. Rev. 1, 7 (2024). Secluded door-to-door trips may also reduce the random social interactions that are important to individual and community vitality.

What we have said about robotaxis so far should be familiar. In this Article, we emphasize two points that are new—one an underappreciated reason to welcome robotaxis, the other an underappreciated reason for concern.

Robotaxis, at least at this moment, could be a political expedient for implementing policies that are otherwise viewed as politically challenging.13Our discussion of this point is based on Bryant Walker Smith, Ethics of Artificial Intelligence in Transport, in The Oxford Handbook of Ethics of AI 670, 672–75 (Markus D. Dubber, Frank Pasquale & Sunit Das eds., 2020); see also Transforming Transp. Advisory Comm., Formal Recommendations of the Transforming Transportation Advisory Committee to the US Department of Transportation on Artificial Intelligence, Automated Driving, Project Delivery, and Innovation for Safety 91–92 (2024) (arguing that conventional driving should be held to the same standards of safety, health, equity, sustainability, financial responsibility, and incident recording as automated driving, but recognizing that this may not be politically viable). The problems of America’s reliance on the personal motor vehicle are well-known: crash deaths and injuries, pollution, and sprawl, among others. Policy solutions are also well-known: consistent automated enforcement of safety-relevant traffic rules, insurance minimums that reflect the true cost of injury, taxes on fueling and charging that capture the externalities of energy consumption, parking rates that account for the value of the land used, and so forth. But implementing these policies for conventional vehicles, drivers, and driving may not sit well with the ninety-two percent of American households that have a motor vehicle.14Physical Housing Characteristics for Occupied Housing Units, U.S. Census Bureau, https://data.census.gov/table?q=car%20ownership [perma.cc/9JNT-MF4L] (indicating that 8.5% of households do not have a vehicle).

In contrast, automated driving is not yet politically entrenched.15See generally David Collingridge, The Social Control of Technology (1980) (introducing what has become known as the Collingridge dilemma); Matthew T. Wansley, Regulation of Emerging Risks, 69 Vand. L. Rev. 401, 412–15 (2016) (arguing that there is often a narrow political window for regulating emerging technologies before a fledgling industry becomes entrenched in the political process). Automated vehicles have so far been deployed only in fleets, which facilitates regulation. Fleet owners are better able to comply with complex rules than individual vehicle owners, and regulators may face less (or at least a different kind of) political resistance when they impose burdens on fleet owners than when they impose similar burdens on tens of millions of individual vehicle owners. This partly explains why the U.S. Department of Transportation and states such as California have demanded much more from automated driving developers than they have from ordinary noncommercial vehicle owners and drivers, such as expanded incident reporting at the federal and state levels and higher insurance minimums at the state level.16See infra Sections I.D.1–2.

But this moment is fleeting: if robotaxis and automated driving features become more widespread and popular, imposing new requirements will become correspondingly more difficult. This is a lesson that many cities still remember from the early and ultimately successful efforts of Uber to change the facts on the ground before governments could enforce existing rules or devise new ones.17Anticipatory governance is more philosophically and pragmatically attractive to European governments than to the U.S. government. To cite three examples: First, it is easier for the U.S. Department of Transportation’s National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) to use its investigatory and recall authority than to use its rulemaking authority. See Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Understanding NHTSA’s Regulatory Tools 3 (2017) (noting that, out of regulatory tools available to the agency, rulemaking “generally takes the longest time to complete”). Second, Europe applies its vehicle safety standards through premarket approval, whereas the United States applies its through self-certification; although often overstated, there are real differences between the two. Contrast id. at 2 (describing “self-certification system of compliance, in which vehicle and equipment manufacturers certify that their products meet applicable standards”), with Questions and Answers: New EU Type-Approval Rules for Safety and Cleaner Cars, Eur. Comm’n (Aug. 30, 2020), https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/qanda_20_1534 [https://perma.cc/Q6HX-5ME9] (discussing focus on “pre-market compliance checks of vehicles that come off the manufacturing assembly line”). Third, Europe tends to embrace the “precautionary principle,” which the United States deliberately downgrades to the “precautionary approach.” This striking difference in philosophy is evident in one sentence of a 2022 resolution by the United Nations’s Global Forum for Road Traffic Safety, “[n]oting that when introducing new technologies impacting road traffic, there is a need to take into account the relevant scientific evidence in order to continue to improve road traffic safety.” Glob. F. for Rd. Traffic Safety, U.N. Econ. Comm’n for Eur., Resolution on Safety Considerations for Activities Other Than Driving Undertaken by Drivers When Automated Driving Systems Issuing Transition Demands Exercise Dynamic Control 1 (2022), https://unece.org/sites/default/files/2022-11/Road%20Safety%20Brochure_EN.pdf. This preambular statement was embraced by U.S. and European delegations—but only because the former interprets it to mean that regulation should come after real-world data and the latter interprets it to mean that regulation should regulation should come before real-world data.

And that observation brings us to our new reason for concern. If robotaxis take off, a small number of corporations may come to control large parts of the transportation system. Robotaxi companies benefit from economies of scale and network effects, so the robotaxi market may be highly concentrated. That’s what we’ve seen in the TNC market.18See Karina M. Wyman, Taxi Regulation in the Age of Uber, 20 N.Y.U. J. Legis. & Pub. Pol’y 1, 15 (2017). In most U.S. cities, Uber and Lyft have formed a duopoly.19See Michal Kaczmarski, Uber vs. Lyft: Who’s Tops in the Battle of U.S. Rideshare Companies, Bloomberg Second Measure (Apr. 15, 2024), https://secondmeasure.com/datapoints/rideshare-industry-overview [https://perma.cc/FKF5-QFT9]. They cannot abuse their market power too much because they face competition from other travel modes. If they jack up their fares, many travelers can take a taxi or transit or just drive their own vehicle. But if robotaxis put other modes of transportation out of business, the risk of monopoly abuse will rise. In the absence of regulation, these companies’ interests may not be aligned with the public good.

In this Article, we propose a plan to regulate robotaxis that takes advantage of the opportunity they present to redesign mobility while protecting the public from concentrated private power.

There is a robust literature on the law of automated driving, but most of it focuses on tort liability20See Kenneth S. Abraham & Robert L. Rabin, Automated Vehicles and Manufacturer Responsibility for Accidents: A New Legal Regime for a New Era, 105 Va. L. Rev. 127, 145–71 (2019); Mark A. Geistfeld, A Roadmap for Autonomous Vehicles: State Tort Liability, Automobile Insurance, and Federal Safety Regulation, 105 Calif. L. Rev. 1611, 1632–60 (2017). See also David C. Vladeck, Machines Without Principals: Liability Rules and Artificial Intelligence, 89 Wash L. Rev. 117 (2014); Bryant Walker Smith, Automated Driving and Product Liability, 2017 Mich. St. L. Rev. 1 (2017); Matthew Wansley, The End of Accidents, 55 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 269 (2021). and safety regulation.21See, e.g., Mark A. Geistfeld, The Regulatory Sweet Spot for Autonomous Vehicles, 53 Wake Forest L. Rev. 101 (2018); Bryant Walker Smith, Automated Vehicles Are Probably Legal in the United States, 1 Tex. A&M L. Rev. 411 (2014) [hereinafter Probably Legal]; Bryant Walker Smith, Regulation and the Risk of Inaction, in Autonomes Fahren 593 (Markus Maurer et al. eds. 2015); Matthew T. Wansley, Regulating Driving Automation Safety, 73 Emory L.J. 505 (2024). There has been little discussion of the other regulatory issues that policymakers must confront.22There is some helpful work on robotaxi regulation from an urban policy perspective. See Manuel Alcalá Kovalski, Yonah Freemark, Christina Stacy & Alena Stern, Steering Autonomous Vehicles Toward Equity (2023); N.Y.U. Rudin Ctr. Transp., Principles for Autonomous Urbanism (2023); Bryant Walker Smith, How Governments Can Promote Automated Driving, 47 N.M. L. Rev. 99 (2017). But some states are already acting. California has developed and implemented robotaxi-specific regulations, and Arizona has applied its pre-existing ridehailing regulations to robotaxis.23See infra Section I.D. We consider both of these approaches to illuminate the choices these states have made and to propose reforms relevant to our analysis.

Our argument proceeds in four Parts.

In Part I, we explain what we know about robotaxis so far—the technologies, the economics, the prospects for wider adoption, and some of the layers of regulation that already apply to robotaxi service.

In Part II, we discuss externality regulation. The deployment of robotaxis could contribute to emissions, wear-and-tear on infrastructure, congestion, and privacy loss. But robotaxis could also reduce the social costs of transportation relative to personal motor vehicles. And it may be easier—both practically and politically—to regulate a few robotaxi companies than to regulate many drivers. Policymakers should take advantage of the ease of regulating robotaxis but take care not to create distortions that push riders to other modes of travel. We consider an electric vehicle mandate, a vehicle miles traveled (“VMT”) tax, congestion pricing, and restrictions on the use of robotaxi sensor data.

In Part III, we turn to rider protection. We start with the premise that the best way to protect riders is to encourage competition. If robotaxi companies compete in a carefully regulated market, riders could get lower fares, better service, and the fruits of more innovation. We also emphasize a less widely appreciated benefit of competition in robotaxis: more independent development of automated driving technologies could ultimately lead to the integration of redundant systems that are safer than systems developed by just one company. We argue that policymakers should promote competition by permitting open entry, banning lock-in contracts, and enabling one-stop access to competing networks.

We recognize, though, that even these policies may not prevent one company from dominating the market because the economies of scale and network effects favor concentration. And that dominance will take on additional social importance if robotaxis start to replace other modes of travel. We therefore propose a different set of policies to preserve rider autonomy even in a concentrated market. Regulators should mandate that robotaxi fares be transparent and rider-neutral. They should also require that, at some point, robotaxi companies individually or collectively are able to serve transportation demand in an emergency. We hope that by ensuring the public will be protected even in a concentrated robotaxi market policymakers can reduce the need for—and the attendant individual and social costs of—personal motor vehicle ownership.

Wide adoption of robotaxis could create the opportunity to redesign the transportation system. In Part IV, we offer some tentative suggestions on what this might look like. We envision a world where cities can reclaim space currently used for parking, giving more space to cyclists and pedestrians and liberating land for housing or other development. Cities can also refocus their investments in mass transit, replacing low-throughput routes and spending scarce dollars on high-throughput routes. The deployment of robotaxis should also create the opportunity to expand access. We think that carefully crafted subsidies can improve mobility for people with low incomes. And we explain how the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (“NHTSA”) can use its authority over vehicle safety standards to encourage the development of automated vehicles that are accessible for people with disabilities. But we take a more skeptical approach to place-based subsidies. We don’t want robotaxis to usher in a new era of sprawl.

I. Robotaxis Today

Robotaxis are moving from R&D projects to commercial service. In this Part, we explain what is currently known about robotaxis. First, we introduce some of the technologies that make robotaxis possible. Second, we describe

the structure of the robotaxi market and the economics of operating a robotaxi service. Third, we consider the prospects for wider adoption. Fourth, we explain some of the layers of regulation that already apply to robotaxis.

A. Technologies

Robotaxis are automated vehicles deployed for commercial passenger service.24We recognize that SAE J3016 “deprecate[s]” the term “automated vehicle.” See SAE Int’l, J3016: Taxonomy and Definitions for Terms Related to Driving Automation Systems for On-Road Motor Vehicles 34 (2021) [hereinafter SAE J3016]. Nonetheless, we use it in a general sense to encompass a wide variety of automated driving applications. See Unif. Automated Operation of Vehicles Act 1 (Nat’l Conf. Comm’rs Unif. State L. 2019); Walker Smith, supra note 22, at 106–13. So does the U.S. Department of Transportation. See generally U.S. Dep’t of Transp. & Nat’l Sci. & Tech. Council, Ensuring American Leadership in Automated Vehicle Technologies (2020) (referring to “automated vehicles”). A robotaxi is equipped with an automated driving system (“ADS”)—a combination of sensors, computers, and software that can together perform the dynamic driving task.25See SAE J3016, supra note 24, at 6, 9 (defining “automated driving system” and “dynamic driving task”). SAE International is currently updating J3016. To oversimplify: every robotaxi in a company’s fleet is equipped with a copy of the same ADS—the same kind of sensors, the same kind of computers, and the same software.26This is an oversimplification because companies may have a variety of vehicle platforms (i.e., models) that require somewhat different ADS implementations, they may have different ADS hardware packages that require somewhat different ADS software calibrations, and they may have different versions of their ADS software. So in a sense, every robotaxi deployed by one company has the same driver.27This is not an oversimplification insofar as the ADS developer is the vehicle’s driver.

Cf. Unif. Automated Operation of Motor Vehicles Act, supra note 24, at 2 (“Under the act, a qualified entity declares to the state that it will be the legal driver for certain automated vehicles. Provided that it meets certain qualifications, this ‘automated driving provider’ might be an automated driving system developer, a vehicle manufacturer, a component supplier, a data provider, a fleet operator, an insurer, an affiliated firm, or another kind of market participant that has yet to emerge.”).

Each ADS has a unique operational design domain (“ODD”)—a set of specific environmental, geographic, and roadway conditions in which it is intended to operate.28SAE J3016, supra note 24, at 17 (defining “operational design domain”). Most ADSs on the road in the United States today function only in geofenced regions in a small number of warm-weather cities, though Chinese cities such as Beijing have both snow and robotaxis.29See Robotaxis Ready for Hire in Beijing, Straits Times (Nov. 22, 2024, 2:59 PM) https://www.straitstimes.com/asia/east-asia/robotaxis-ready-for-hire-in-beijing [https://perma.cc/92TW-VZHZ]; Bryant Walker Smith & Sven Beiker, We Rode in Dozens of Driverless Robotaxis in China. Here’s What We Saw — and our Advice for Other Curious Travelers, Bus. Insider (Jan. 31, 2026, 2:11 AM PT), https://www.businessinsider.com/the-ultimate-guide-for-taking-a-robotaxi-in-china-2026-2 [https://perma.cc/QH6G-DN72]. Even within those geofenced regions, ADSs may be restricted from driving

on specific roads. Waymo’s robotaxis, for example, aren’t taking many paying passengers on freeways.30See, e.g., Ricardo Cano, Waymo Robotaxis Are Now Driving on S.F. Freeways. What It Means for Company’s Bar Area Expansion, S.F. Chron. (Aug. 12, 2024), https://www.sfchronicle.com/sf/article/waymo-sf-freeways-19651970.php [https://perma.cc/92TW-VZHZ]; Waymo, Taking Riders Further, Safely with Freeways (Nov. 12, 2025), https://waymo.com/blog/2025/11/taking-riders-further-safely-with-freeways [https://perma.cc/K7DG-T867]; Press Release, Cal. Dep’t Motor Vehicles, California DMV Approves Mercedes-Benz Automated Driving System for Certain Highways and Conditions (June 8, 2023), https://www.dmv.ca.gov/portal/news-and-media/california-dmv-approves-mercedes-benz-automated-driving-system-for-certain-highways-and-conditions [https://perma.cc/VV94-VMEH]. In China, Baidu operates automated vehicles on freeways by integrating remote driving as needed. See Bryant Walker Smith, Comparing Robotaxis: Baidu’s Apollo and Alphabet’s Waymo, Stan. Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (May 13, 2025), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/comparing-robotaxis-baidus-apollo-and-alphabets-waymo [https://perma.cc/D4QV-7BNM].

Unusual traffic situations—referred to as edge or corner cases—continue to challenge ADSs.31For a review of technical challenges in automated driving, see Philip Koopman, How Safe Is Safe Enough? 35–52 (2022). Robotaxis have fallen into a construction pit,32Baidu Robotaxi Falls into Construction Pit in China, Raising Safety Concerns, Reuters (Aug. 8, 2025), https://www.reuters.com/business/media-telecom/baidu-robotaxi-falls-into-construction-pit-china-raising-safety-concerns-2025-08-08 [https://perma.cc/KV7B-R6XK]. gotten stuck in a flooded road,33Brad Templeton, Waymos Get Stuck in Phoenix Flood, How Could They Do Better?, Forbes (Sep 29, 2025, 08:00 AM), https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2025/09/29/waymos-get-stuck-in-phoenix-flood-how-could-they-do-better [https://perma.cc/QT3N-UXJF]. parked in prohibited areas,34See Pamela Parker, Expert Details Ways to Tackle Waymo’s Parking Problem, ABC 7 News (Mar. 14, 2025), https://abc7news.com/post/waymos-parking-ticket-problem-expert-details-ways-tackle-bad-robotaxi-san-francisco/16023950 [https://perma.cc/5CUA-XDHM] (describing Waymo’s parking violations). and made an illegal U-turn at a sobriety checkpoint.35Michael Levenson & Laurel Rosenhall, When a Driverless Car Makes an Illegal U-Turn, Who Gets the Ticket?, N.Y. Times (Oct. 1, 2025), https://www.nytimes.com/2025/10/01/us/waymo-tickets-san-bruno.html [https://perma.cc/RRH2-MXMZ].

The companies developing automated driving technologies are designing their systems in different ways. Some companies use a suite of sensors that includes lidar, radar, and cameras.36Ekim Yurtsever, Jacob Lambert, Alexander Carballo & Kazuya Takeda, A Survey of Autonomous Driving: Common Practices and Emerging Technologies, 8 IEEE Access 58443, 58447 (2020); Waymo, Waymo Safety Report 14 (2021). Others purport to rely on cameras alone.37Tesla, 2025+ Model Y Owner’s Manual 102 (July 27, 2025) (describing how Autopilot relies on cameras to monitor the surrounding area and detect other vehicles, pedestrians, road markings, and obstacles such as barriers and curbs). Some companies create high-definition digital maps to help their systems understand the data they receive from the vehicle’s sensors.38See, e.g., Waymo, supra note 36, at 8. Others have designed their system to learn about their environment largely from the data they receive in real time with only a comparatively basic map.39See Pioneering a New Way to Solve Self-Driving with Embodied AI, Wayve, https://wayve.ai/technology (last visited Sep. 26, 2025) (describing how Wayve’s embodied AI system allows it to apply “‘learned’ driving skills to unexpected scenarios, even without prior training exposure”).

Companies also differ in how they structure their software. Some ADSs are modular, with different subsystems performing discrete tasks. For example, a modular ADS might include subsystems for localization, perception, behavior prediction, planning, and actuation.40See Yurtsever et al., supra note 36, at 58445–46. Each of these subsystems may or may not incorporate machine learning. Other ADSs, by contrast, have a “pure end-to-end” architecture. In these systems, a machine learning model takes in sensor data and puts out actuation commands.41Id. at 58446. Some companies are combining these approaches.42Timothy B. Lee, Waymo and Tesla’s Self-Driving Systems Are More Similar Than People Think, Understanding AI (Dec 17, 2025), https://www.understandingai.org/p/waymo-and-teslas-self-driving-systems [https://perma.cc/M36V-VREL]. Many deployments are likely to involve bounded flexibility—like putting a soft duffle bag inside a hardshell suitcase.

An ADS can create a digital record of its driving.43See, e.g., Waymo, supra note 36, at 18 (describing Waymo’s “system for collecting and analyzing data” from road encounters). This record can show the people, animals, and objects detected by the ADS’s sensors and the commands sent by its software, and the movement of nearby people and objects.44See Yurtsever et al., supra note 36, at 58461. Most robotaxis are also equipped with interior and exterior video cameras, which can record both passengers and the vehicle’s surroundings.45See id. at 58447–48, 58461 (describing use of external sensing cameras and internal driver-facing cameras). An ADS generates and processes an immense amount of data, and retaining all these data in their raw form may be impractical. Companies generally decide which data to collect, transmit, and retain. In the absence of a legal requirement, they may make pragmatic or strategic decisions about data retention, especially as they scale their operations.

The data that an ADS collects can feed back into development. When a robotaxi encounters a scenario of concern, the ADS can be tweaked to handle it better next time.46Waymo, supra note 36, at 18 (“Following a collision, we’re able to analyze all available data, including video and other sensor data, to evaluate factors that may have contributed to the incident, and we’re able to make appropriate software changes and update every vehicle in our fleet accordingly.”). The developer can test this update in computer simulations, on closed-course tracks, and then on public roads.47See Yurtsever et al., supra note 36, at 58462 (describing use of simulations for developing algorithms before road tests). Progress isn’t always linear.48This can be fraught. If an ADS developer discovers a danger in its software, does it (a) immediately update the software (at the risk of introducing a new issue), (b) suspend or limit the operation of its vehicles (at the risk of depriving people of vital mobility), (c) put its vehicles into a degraded operation mode (same), or (d) do nothing (at risk of the danger manifesting as harm)? Tweaks can introduce new errors.49See Koopman, supra note 31, at 82–83. But over time, a system’s performance should improve, and its ODD should expand.

In the 2010s, the industry was focused on R&D.50For a short history of automated driving development, see Matthew T. Wansley, Moonshots, 2022 Colum. Bus. L. Rev. 859, 899–913 (2023). When companies tested automated vehicles on public roads, they kept a “safety driver” behind the wheel.51See Andrew J. Hawkins, Waymo Is First to Put Fully Self-Driving Cars on US Roads Without a Safety Driver: Going Level 4 in Arizona, Verge (Nov. 7, 2017), https://www.theverge.com/2017/11/7/16615290/waymo-self-driving-safety-driver-chandler-autonomous [https://perma.cc/E5GL-CN6F]. Near the end of the decade, some companies moved to testing without these safety drivers.52See id. And in the past few years, some companies have started to operate commercial services.53See infra Section I.B.1 (describing companies deploying robotaxis in the United States). Freight operations are beyond the scope of this Article.

These deployments generally rely on support from human agents located in remote centers.54Cade Metz, When Self-Driving Cars Don’t Actually Drive Themselves, N.Y. Times (Sep. 21, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/11/insider/when-self-driving-cars-dont-actually-drive-themselves.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20251001094224/https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/11/insider/when-self-driving-cars-dont-actually-drive-themselves.html]. Developers take a variety of approaches to remote facilitation, ranging from mere remote assistance to actual remote driving.55See Bryant Walker Smith, On Remote Driving, Stan. Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (May 16, 2022), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2022/05/remote-driving [https://perma.cc/85PS-MCXE]; Walker Smith, supra note 30. Remote agents might communicate with passengers, suggest a path for the ADS when the robotaxi gets stuck, call for assistance in an emergency, or interact with first responders.56See Brad Templeton, Cruise Reports Lots of Human Oversight of Robotaxis, Is That Bad?, Forbes (Nov. 7, 2023), https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2023/11/07/cruise-reports-lots-of-human-oversight-of-robotaxis-is-that-bad [https://perma.cc/ST49-BZ9M]. These roles might be assigned to a single agent or distributed across agents. In practice, remote facilitation is frequent. For example, in late 2023, one company’s robotaxis required assistance every four to five miles.57Tripp Mickle, Cade Metz & Yiwen Lu, G.M.’s Cruise Moved Fast in the Driverless Race. It Got Ugly., N.Y. Times (Nov. 3, 2023), https://www.nytimes.com/2023/11/03/technology/cruise-general-motors-self-driving-cars.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20251011182132/https://www.nytimes.com/2023/11/03/technology/cruise-general-motors-self-driving-cars.html]; Lora Kolodny, Cruise Confirms Robotaxis Rely on Human Assistance Every Four to Five Miles, CNBC (Nov. 6, 2025), https://www.cnbc.com/2023/11/06/cruise-confirms-robotaxis-rely-on-human-assistance-every-4-to-5-miles.html [https://perma.cc/FRR4-D29A].

Automated driving has the potential to improve road safety. Waymo’s researchers published a study in a peer-reviewed journal finding that its vehicles are involved in significantly fewer crashes that involve an injury or an airbag deployment than conventional vehicles in comparable ODDs.58Kristofer D. Kusano, John M. Scanlon, Yin-Hsiu Chen, Timothy L. McMurry, Tilia Gode & Trent Victor, Comparison of Waymo Rider-Only Crash Rates by Crash Type to Human Benchmarks at 56.7 Million Miles, 28 Traffic Injury Prevention S8, S14 (2025). The study is based on publicly available crash reports that Waymo submitted to NHTSA.59Id. at S10. Although the data are self-reported and the conventional vehicle crash rate baselines are contestable, we don’t doubt the direction of the results with respect to routine driving.

An earlier study by independent researchers found that Waymo’s crash rate in San Francisco was comparable to the reported crash rates of TNC drivers in the city.60Jiayu Joyce Chen & Steven E. Shladover, Initial Indications of Safety of Driverless Automated Driving Systems 14 (Jan. 2, 2024) (unpublished manuscript) (on file with arXiv), https://arxiv.org/pdf/2403.14648 [https://perma.cc/39X3-HCZ9] (showing 15.5 crashes per million miles for Uber trips and 14.1 for Waymo). This is also an encouraging result because the crashes involving automated vehicles had to be reported by law while crashes involving only conventional vehicles are often not reported.61See Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., DOT HS 812 013, The Economic and Societal Impact of Motor Vehicle Crashes, 2010 (Revised) 121–43 (2015) (discussing reporting problems in non-fatal crash data). It is too early to draw conclusions about fatal crashes, though. In the United States, there are about 1.33 fatal collisions for about every 100 million vehicle miles traveled.62Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., DOT HS 813 560, Overview of Motor Vehicle Traffic Crashes in 2022 2 (2024). Waymo has only traveled about 200 million miles.63See Waymo (@waymo), Threads (Feb 23, 2026), https://www.threads.com/@waymo/post/DVG6_u0CQ0c.

B. Economics

We are beginning to see the structure of the nascent automated driving market generally and the nascent robotaxi market specifically. And we can make educated guesses about the basic economics of a robotaxi service.

  1. Market Structure

There are companies developing automated driving technologies in many parts of the world. These companies include automakers such as Mercedes, Tesla, and Volkswagen; automotive suppliers such as Bosch, Mobileye, and Qualcomm; informational technology companies such as Alphabet, Amazon, Baidu, and Huawei; and a variety of automated-driving-specific firms such as May Mobility, Pony.AI, Wayve, and WeRide. It is important not to discount efforts abroad, particularly from companies in

China that are active at home and could soon be competing with U.S. companies in other parts of the world.64Bryant Walker Smith & Sven Beiker, The Ultimate Guide for Taking a Robotaxi in China, Bus. Insider (Feb. 2, 2026), https://www.businessinsider.com/the-ultimate-guide-for-taking-a-robotaxi-in-china-2026-2 [https://perma.cc/93E3-F5DB].

“[A]utomated driving encompasses a wide range of technologies, applications of those technologies, business models for those applications, and participants in those business models.”65Unif. Automated Operation of Vehicles Act, supra note 24, at 1 (citing Walker Smith, supra note 22). “For example, a vehicle capable of automated operation may or may not be designed for all roads, communities, and travel conditions; be capable of automated operation for an entire trip; include a traditional steering wheel, throttle, and brake pedal; need a human who can resume driving when requested to do so; need this human to be physically present in the vehicle; rely on a human located far from the vehicle to provide instructions and information; use specific sensor technologies, including camera, radar, lidar, sonar, inertial motion, and GPS; use highly detailed maps that are created in advance; communicate electronically with other vehicles; be originally manufactured as an automated vehicle; be retrofitted by a developer other than the vehicle manufacturer; be modified by third parties without the involvement of that developer; be sold to individual consumers; be deployed only as part of a fleet; carry passengers, deliver goods, provide services, or perform novel functions; and so on.” Id.; see also Transforming Transp. Advisory Comm., supra note 13, at 45 (same). Robotaxis are just one application. Some companies are developing ADSs for personal motor vehicles or for use in low-speed shuttles. Other companies are aiming to automate trucking, delivery, mining, farming, and military vehicles.

We focus on three U.S.-based companies—Waymo, Zoox, and Tesla—that are developing robotaxis and are backed by three of the most valuable corporations in the world. Waymo is a subsidiary of Alphabet, the parent company of Google. Zoox is a subsidiary of Amazon. Tesla we expect you’ve heard of.

For now, Waymo dominates the robotaxi industry. It is providing commercial robotaxi service in Atlanta, Austin, Los Angeles, Phoenix, San Francisco, and Miami (as of February 2026).66See Waymo, supra note 3. And it is planning to provide commercial service in other major U.S. metropolitan areas.67Id. (announcing service in Miami and Washington, D.C.). Waymo’s robotaxis are already competing with Uber and Lyft. In late 2025, Waymo had a twenty-two percent share of the TNC market for trips with an origin and destination within the city limits of San Francisco.68Preetika Rana, How Uber and Lyft Are Gearing Up for the Robotaxi Revolution, Wall St. J. (Jan. 6, 2025), https://www.wsj.com/tech/uber-lyft-self-driving-taxis-a3659c9c [https://perma.cc/Y4AG-ASV3].

Zoox is testing robotaxis in San Francisco, Las Vegas, and Miami.69Metz, supra note 54. The company recently started a commercial service in Las Vegas.70In September 2025, Zoox began offering free rides from a few select locations on the Las Vegas strip. Salvador Rodriguez & Annie Palmer, Amazon’s Zoox Jumps into the U.S. Robotaxi Race with Las Vegas Launch, CNBC (Sep. 10, 2025), https://www.cnbc.com/2025/09/10/amazons-zoox-jumps-into-us-robotaxi-race-with-las-vegas-launch-.html [https://perma.cc/NZT5-4RMA]; see also Where to Ride, Zoox, https://zoox.com/where-to-ride [https://perma.cc/CZ6V-8DWX] (last visited Mar. 18, 2026) (inviting website visitors to “ride now” in Las Vegas and to “learn more” about San Francisco, Austin, and Miami).

Tesla claims it is developing robotaxis.71Jack Ewing & Peter Eavis, Elon Musk Says Robotaxis Are Tesla’s Future. Experts Have Doubts., N.Y. Times (July 30, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/29/business/elon-musk-tesla-robotaxi.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20250925195230/https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/29/business/elon-musk-tesla-robotaxi.html]. But all Tesla has produced is a system that it dizzyingly calls “Full Self-Driving (Supervised),”72See Bryant Walker Smith, “Self-Driving” Means Self-Driving, Drake L. Rev. (forthcoming). which needs a driver to keep their hands on the wheel and their eyes on the road at all times.73See Tesla, supra note 37, at 120–23. It is an ADS in aspiration but not in function.74Bryant Walker Smith, How Reporters Can Evaluate Automated Driving Announcements, 2020 J.L. & Mobility 1, 10 (2020). In communications with regulators, Tesla continues to take the position that “Full Self-Driving” is just a driver assistance system.75E-mail from Eric C. Williams, Associate General Counsel, Regulatory, Tesla, to Miguel Acosta, Chief, Autonomous Vehicles Branch, California Department of Motor Vehicles (Nov. 20, 2020) (on file with author). In May 2025, Tesla announced the “launch” of a “robotaxi” service in Austin, Texas.76Edward Ludlow, Tesla Targets June 12 Launch of Robotaxi Service in Austin, Bloomberg (May 29, 2025), https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2025-05-28/tesla-targets-june-12-launch-of-robotaxi-service-in-austin [https://perma.cc/W3EU-SL46]. But each of the vehicles generally has a Tesla employee who is seated in the driver’s seat or passenger seat, monitoring the roadway and able to intervene.77Aarian Marshall, This Is Why Tesla’s Robotaxi Launch Needed Human Babysitters, Wired (July 4, 2025), https://www.wired.com/story/this-is-why-teslas-robotaxi-launch-needed-human-babysitters [https://perma.cc/7Z9D-ZQJ5]; Matt Binder, Tesla Now Puts Their Robotaxi Safety Monitors in the Driver’s Seat, Mashable (Sep. 5, 2025), https://mashable.com/article/tesla-robotaxi-human-safety-monitor-drivers-seat [https://perma.cc/CD7T-WN2V].

It is important to recognize that, although each of these companies has primarily emphasized robotaxi services, their underlying technologies could be adapted for a variety of other applications, including motor vehicles that are exclusively used by their owners.

The robotaxi companies are taking different approaches to vertical integration. Each company is developing its own ADS software. But they aren’t all building vehicles. Waymo has purchased its base vehicles from third parties—Chrysler minivans, Jaguar SUVs, Zeekr minivans, and Hyundai SUVs—and then modified them extensively in its own facilities.78See Jonathan M. Gitlin, The Hyundai Ioniq 5 Will Be the Next Waymo Robotaxi, Ars Technica (Oct. 4, 2024), https://arstechnica.com/cars/2024/10/the-hyundai-ioniq-5-will-be-the-next-waymo-robotaxi [https://web.archive.org/web/20241127234511/https://arstechnica.com/cars/2024/10/the-hyundai-ioniq-5-will-be-the-next-waymo-robotaxi]. Zoox built its own distinctive, bidirectional vehicle in which passengers face each other.79See Zoox, https://zoox.com/vehicle [https://perma.cc/FP6S-2R2Y]. Tesla has unveiled a more conventionally designed prototype called the Cybercab, but in Austin it uses slightly modified versions of its production vehicles.80Andrew J. Hawkins, Tesla Cybercab Announced: Elon Musk’s Robotaxi Is Finally Here, Verge (Oct. 10, 2024), https://www.theverge.com/2024/10/10/24265530/tesla-robotaxi-elon-musk-features-range-price-release-date [https://perma.cc/X69K-UXWH]; Scotty Reiss, Tesla Robotaxi Is Now Open to All in Austin. Here’s What It’s Like, Forbes (Sep. 4, 2025), https://www.forbes.com/sites/scottyreiss/2025/09/04/tesla-robotaxi-is-now-open-to-all-in-austin-heres-what-its-like [https://perma.cc/A4TR-M9AC].

The companies are also experimenting with different models for service delivery.81It is notable that automakers have likewise experimented with a variety of models over the last century. Hertz was owned by GM and later by Ford. See 100 Years of Hertz History, Hertz (June 17, 2022), https://www.hertz.com/us/en/blog/automotive/100-years-of-hertz-history [https://perma.cc/Y6DR-PHFH]; Robert E. Dallos, Hertz Team, Ford Agree to Buy Car Rental Firm from Allegis in $1.3-Billion Deal, L.A. Times (Oct. 3, 1987), https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1987-10-03-fi-3020-story.html [https://perma.cc/PRF8-5VKA]. Volvo offers car insurance. See Truman Lewis, Volvo Launches Insurance Agency in U.S., Consumer Affs. (Aug. 26, 2025), https://www.consumeraffairs.com/news/volvo-launches-insurance-agency-in-us-082625.html [https://perma.cc/ZCX7-UYCF]. The automotive supplier now known as Aptiv was spun out by GM. See Kurt Nagl, Detroit 3 Auto Supplier to Spin Off Key Unit in Bid to Grow, Diversify, Crain’s Detroit Bus., (Jan. 22, 2025), https://www.crainsdetroit.com/manufacturing/auto-supplier-aptiv-spin-key-unit-grow-diversify [https://web.archive.org/web/20250402151055/https://www.crainsdetroit.com/manufacturing/auto-supplier-aptiv-spin-key-unit-grow-diversify]. In Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Miami, Waymo’s robotaxis can be hailed only on the Waymo app.82See Ride with Us in the City of Angels, Waymo, https://waymo.com/rides/los-angeles [https://perma.cc/9DA7-UL2D]; Redefine How You Move Around San Francisco, Waymo, https://waymo.com/rides/san-francisco [https://perma.cc/MFS3-RK4J]. In Phoenix, they can be hailed on the Waymo app or the Uber app.83The Waymo Driver: Now Available on Uber in Phoenix, Waymo (Oct. 26, 2023), https://waymo.com/blog/2023/10/the-waymo-driver-now-available-on-uber-in-phoenix [https://perma.cc/T9SB-T6UQ]. And in Atlanta and Austin, they can be hailed only on the Uber app.84Waymo and Uber Expand Partnership to Bring Autonomous Ride-Hailing to Austin and Atlanta, Waymo (Sep. 13, 2024), https://waymo.com/blog/2024/09/waymo-and-uber-expand-partnership [https://perma.cc/7QRK-VTVW]. In those cities, Uber manages “vehicle cleaning, repair, and other general depot operations” while Waymo manages roadside assistance.85Id. Waymo has also suggested it might license its ADS to third parties.86See Ricardo Cano, Waymo Eyes S.F. Robotaxi Expansion, Personal Vehicles After First-Year ‘Success’, S.F. Chron. (Aug. 29, 2024), https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/waymo-driverless-robotaxi-expansion-19657064.php [https://web.archive.org/web/20250330184957/https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/waymo-driverless-robotaxi-expansion-19657064.php]; Aarian Marshall, Waymo’s New Agreement with Hyundai Raises Questions About China, Wired (Oct. 4, 2024), https://www.wired.com/story/waymo-new-agreement-hyundai-raises-questions-china [https://perma.cc/5KYQ-A9MH ] (describing partnership with Hyundai to explore installing Waymo’s ADS on personal motor vehicles).

Tesla has floated the idea of selling automated vehicles to individuals who would then make them available as robotaxis on a network managed by Tesla.87Abhirup Roy & Akash Sriram, Tesla CEO Elon Musk Unveils ‘Cybercab’ Robotaxi, Reuters (Oct. 11, 2024), https://www.reuters.com/technology/teslas-musk-unveil-robotaxis-amid-fanfare-skepticism-2024-10-10 [https://perma.cc/XN2R-TGCJ]. (If those vehicles were as automated as Tesla has promised, then those individuals could presumably make them available on other networks as well.) This business model has some precedent. Uber lets personal motor vehicle owners use their vehicles to provide rides to passengers.88See Drive, Uber, https://www.uber.com/us/en/drive [https://web.archive.org/web/20250426081719/https://www.uber.com/us/en/drive]; Turo, https://turo.com (last visited Sep. 21, 2025). Turo lets personal motor vehicle owners rent their vehicles to drivers.89Turo, https://turo.com [https://web.archive.org/web/20250929114143/https://turo.com]. And Zipcar lets members have short-term use of fleet vehicles.90How Zipcar Works, Zipcar, https://www.zipcar.com/how-it-works [https://perma.cc/JE8R-EYW8].

A startup recently announced that it would sell automated vehicles to individuals91Andrew J. Hawkins, Tensor Wants to Be the First Company to Sell You A ‘Robocar’ — But Who Are They?, Verge (Aug 13, 2025), https://www.theverge.com/news/758605/tensor-autox-autonomous-vehicle-robocar-personal-own-china [https://perma.cc/8K9Q-EXEC].—though of course it is not the first company to make this claim.92See, e.g., Hands-Free Driving for $10,000, NBC News (June 23, 2014), http://www.nbcnews.com/nightly-news/hands-free-driving-10-000-n138876 (last visited Nov. 26, 2025) [https://perma.cc/DH9U-PE3Z] (Cruise); Tesla, Full Self-Driving Hardware on all Teslas, (Vimeo, Oct. 20, 2016), https://vimeo.com/188105076 (Tesla); see also Bryant Walker Smith, “Self-Driving” Means Self-Driving, Drake L. Rev. (forthcoming).

  1. Cost Structure

The most important cost of operating a robotaxi service is the fixed, upfront cost of developing a safe and functional ADS. Each of the major robotaxi companies has already spent billions on engineering and testing over the last decade.93Cade Metz, The Costly Pursuit of Self-Driving Cars Continues On. And On. And On. N.Y. Times (Sep. 15, 2021), https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/24/technology/self-driving-cars-wait.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20251012022738/https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/24/technology/self-driving-cars-wait.html]. As an ADS stabilizes, engineering costs may decline. But a mature ADS will still need to be updated and refined.94Brad Templeton, So You’ve Built a Robotaxi, Now Where’s Your Infrastructure, Forbes (Aug. 5, 2024), https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2024/08/05/so-youve-built-a-robotaxi-now-wheres-your-infrastructure [https://perma.cc/BST7-GETT] (noting that maps and systems must be updated to adapt to local conditions and “dynamic changes, including construction”). The built environment and road user behavior will continue to change, and robotaxis will continue to encounter novel edge cases.

The variable costs of a robotaxi service can be divided into market, vehicle, and mile costs. For each new market a company enters, it must map the new territory, ensure sufficient remote assistance capacity, and arrange facilities for storing, charging, cleaning, and maintaining its vehicles.95Id. It is possible, however, that one remote operation command center may be able to serve fleets in multiple metropolitan areas. Id. (noting that a remote ops center can cover multiple service areas). For each new vehicle it assembles, it needs to buy the vehicle platform, the sensors, and the computers. For each new mile its robotaxis drive, it spends more on remote labor, fuel or electricity, cleaning, maintenance, and (indirectly) insurance.

Compared to traditional TNCs, one potential cost advantage of a robotaxi is labor. Much of the cost of an Uber ride is driver pay.96According to data published by the NYC TLC, about seventy-five to eighty percent of an Uber or Lyft base fare (excluding tips and taxes) goes to the driver. See Todd W. Schneider, Taxi and Ridehailing Usage in New York City, Todd W. Schneider, https://toddwschneider.com/dashboards/nyc-taxi-ridehailing-uber-lyft-data [https://perma.cc/CJ6V-MR5P]. But it is important to consider that TNC driver pay must cover vehicle purchase, cleaning, maintenance, and (some) insurance costs. Taking the driver out of a taxi could make transportation radically cheaper. But robotaxis will compete against Uber and Lyft drivers who, at least in the United States, might earn less than minimum wage to drive and maintain rather ordinary vehicles (and, notably, to load and unload luggage that their customers may not want or be able to lift).97See Ken Jacobs, Michael Reich, Tynan Challenor & Aida Farmand, Gig Passenger and Delivery Driver Pay in Five Metro Areas, U.C. Berkeley Lab. Ctr. (May 20, 2024), https://laborcenter.berkeley.edu/gig-passenger-and-delivery-driver-pay-in-five-metro-areas [https://perma.cc/YB23-R3DP].

So, for now, this labor cost saving is hypothetical.98See Leah Kaplan, Lola Nurullaeva & John Paul Helveston, Modeling the Operational and Labor Costs of Autonomous Robotaxi Services, 159 Transp. Pol’y 108, 117 (2024) (finding that, after accounting for “frontline labor roles involved in existing robotaxi services . . . labor costs for robotaxis are far higher than previously estimated”). The robotaxi companies need humans to help with charging, cleaning, and maintenance. And they rely critically on humans who provide remote assistance to their vehicles, to their passengers, or to law enforcement—and, occasionally, to physically retrieve vehicles when they get stuck.99Metz, supra note 54. As of November 2023, one robotaxi company was employing 1.5 operations workers per vehicle.100Mickle et al., supra note 57.

One cost disadvantage of a robotaxi is the robotaxi itself: the vehicle platform, its sensors, and its computers. Waymo’s co-CEO has said that the equipment on its robotaxis can cost as much as $100,000.101Eli Tan, Waymo’s Robot Taxis Are Almost Mainstream. Can They Now Turn a Profit?, N.Y. Times (Sep. 4, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/04/technology/waymo-expansion-alphabet.html [https://perma.cc/8FZV-ZF2E]. But Baidu, one of Waymo’s Chinese competitors has said that its robotaxis cost less than

$30,000 to manufacture—including both the vehicle platform and the ADS.102Andrew J. Hawkins, Baidu’s Supercheap Robotaxis Should Scare the Hell Out of the US, Verge (Nov. 22, 2024), https://www.theverge.com/2024/11/22/24303299/baidu-apollo-go-rt6-robotaxi-unit-economics-waymo [https://perma.cc/ZPG4-HQPQ]; Walker Smith, supra note 30.

Another cost disadvantage is real estate. A robotaxi company internalizes the cost of its vehicles driving to and from its depots and service facilities, so it may want to locate them close to the center of travel demand. That’s usually a place where land isn’t cheap. In contrast, a traditional TNC’s drivers or vehicle owners bear these costs—including when they involve significant commutes at the beginning and end of a workday.

In theory, robotaxis can benefit from powerful economies of scale. Once an ADS is acceptably safe and functional, it can be deployed in similar ODDs in metropolitan areas around the country with some adaptations for local driving conditions. However, the significant costs of standing up a new market—the depots, service facilities, and local coordination—may limit early deployments to metropolitan areas with large populations.103See Brad Templeton, Some Say Self-Driving Robotaxi Isn’t A Business; Billions Are Betting That It Is, Forbes (Oct. 25, 2021), https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2021/10/25/some-say-self-driving-robotaxi-isnt-a-business–billions-are-being-bet-that-it-is [https://web.archive.org/web/20251102070223/https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2021/10/25/some-say-self-driving-robotaxi-isnt-a-business–billions-are-being-bet-that-it-is/?sh=6954c3565b07] (noting that it is “unlikely robotaxi service will arrive in rural locations for a long time” because efforts may be harder to justify for fewer customers).

The path to profitability will require changes to the cost structure. The cost of components—sensors, computers, and vehicle hardware—needs to fall. Waymo already is moving to replace its Jaguars with Zeekrs.104Brad Templeton, Waymo’s 6th Generation Robotaxi Is Cheaper. How Cheap Can They Go?, Forbes (Aug. 20, 2024), https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2024/08/20/waymos-6th-generation-robotaxi-is-cheaper–how-cheap-can-they-go [https://web.archive.org/web/20250514224156/https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2024/08/20/waymos-6th-generation-robotaxi-is-cheaper–how-cheap-can-they-go]; Satish Jeyachandran, Beginning Fully Autonomous Operations with the 6th-Generation Waymo Driver, Waymo (Feb. 12, 2026), https://waymo.com/blog/2026/02/ro-on-6th-gen-waymo-driver [https://perma.cc/M6SJ-WHZC]. The ratio of operations staff to revenue-generating vehicles needs to fall too. That will mean improving the ADS’s performance to reduce the frequency of incidents where remote assistants need to intervene. And it will likely mean automating parts of robotaxi servicing—charging, cleaning, and maintenance.105See, e.g., Amanda Silberling, Waymo Is Asking DoorDash Drivers to Shut the Doors of Its Self-Driving Cars, TechCrunch (Feb. 12, 2026), https://techcrunch.com/2026/02/12/waymo-is-asking-doordash-drivers-to-shut-the-doors-of-its-self-driving-cars [https://perma.cc/2552-HYUC]. How much costs can fall is an open question.

  1. Deployment

A profit-maximizing robotaxi company will follow two principles for deployment. First, maximize revenue-generating opportunities (for which miles is an imperfect proxy). Second, minimize non-revenue-generating—or “deadheading”—miles. All else equal, a robotaxi company makes more money when a robotaxi is carrying passengers than when it is parked in a depot. And the company probably loses less money when a robotaxi is parked in a depot than when it is deadheading. A parked robotaxi takes up space in the depot. But a deadheading robotaxi increases charging, cleaning, maintenance, and insurance costs.106Some robotaxi companies may be large enough that they choose to self-insure.

These two principles explain why robotaxis (and taxis and TNCs) are deployed in areas with high travel demand. In a high demand area, when one trip ends, the next rider is nearby. There is less deadheading between rides. Robotaxis benefit from network effects. A network with a higher volume of trip requests means fewer deadheading miles between rides. Network effects explain why robotaxis are deployed in large metropolitan areas.107See Templeton, supra note 103 (noting that rural areas are not suited to robotaxi service due to lower density and long distances). And they explain why downtowns are generally more appealing markets than outlying areas.108There are other factors beyond population density that might affect robotaxi travel demand. For example, a neighborhood with frequent, reliable public transit might have less demand for robotaxis. But that kind of neighborhood might also have a lower vehicle ownership rate and therefore higher demand for both transit and robotaxis. It’s hard to predict the net effect on demand without data. Even in San Francisco—one of the densest cities in the country—Waymo’s robotaxis are still deadheading over 40% of the time.109Harry Campbell, What CPUC Data Reveals About Waymo’s Deadheading and Utilization, Driverless Digest (Nov 19, 2025), https://www.thedriverlessdigest.com/p/what-cpuc-data-reveals-about-waymos [https://perma.cc/M36V-VREL] (discussing deadheading data collected from the CPUC databased by Matthew Raifman).

There are other factors beyond travel demand that affect where robotaxis will be deployed. Robotaxis are limited by their ADS’s ODD. If an ADS isn’t capable of functioning at higher speeds, the robotaxis that use it might not serve neighborhoods where many trips require highway driving. Robotaxi companies may also prefer to deploy in wealthy neighborhoods simply because their wealthy residents have a higher willingness to pay. But again, the analysis is complicated. If wealthy residents are more likely to own a car, they may be less interested in a robotaxi ride. Families with young children (or simply with a lot to carry or store in a vehicle) present another potential challenge to—or possibly opportunity for—robotaxis.

The same principles that explain where robotaxis will be deployed also explain when they will be deployed. In most cities, travel demand peaks on weekdays in the morning and evening rush hours. A fleet of vehicles that can serve peak rush hour demand will leave some vehicles sitting idle in the midday hours and most vehicles sitting idle overnight. Robotaxi companies will likely try to smooth out travel demand by charging more in rush hour, as Uber and Lyft do with surge pricing.110For an analysis of how surge pricing works based on public data, see Schneider, supra note 96. They might also use their vehicles for package delivery or other tasks in periods of low demand.111Brad Templeton, How Long Should a Robotaxi Last?, Forbes (Sep. 25, 2023), https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2023/09/25/how-long-should-a-robotaxi-last [https://web.archive.org/web/20240119072423/https://www.forbes.com/sites/bradtempleton/2023/09/25/how-long-should-a-robotaxi-last]. But a profit-maximizing company’s optimal fleet size is likely lower than a fleet that would completely serve peak demand—a point that influences our analysis below.112Uber needs to position itself to be attractive both to drivers and to riders. This is why the company already performs some centralized management of both supply and demand through surge pricing. But as long as enough drivers are willing to drive, it is likely more tolerant of oversupply than of undersupply.

Robotaxis might be able to serve more of a city’s transportation demand with a smaller fleet than traditional taxis or TNCs can.113See Marco Pavone, Autonomous Mobility-on-Demand Systems for Future Urban Mobility, in Autonomous Driving: Technical, Legal and Social Aspects 387, 396 (Markus Maurer, J. Christian Gerdes, Barbara Lenz & Hermann Winner eds., 2016) (estimating that Manhattan’s taxi demand could be served with a robotaxi fleet about seventy percent the size of the current taxi fleet). The effect will be amplified if some of the city’s residents decide to give up their personal motor vehicles for robotaxis. Personal motor vehicles have a very low utilization rate—they sit in driveways, on streets, or in parking facilities for most of the day. A profit-maximizing robotaxi company will aim for high utilization.114See Kaplan et al., supra note 98, at 117 (concluding that “utilization rates and annual mileage will ultimately serve as the limiting factors for robotaxi competitiveness”). A smaller fleet serving the same travel demand could mean a lower environmental impact.115As we discuss later, however, a smaller fleet does not necessarily mean fewer vehicle-miles traveled.

One open question in robotaxi deployment is how often riders will be interested in being matched with strangers to share rides.116The terminology in this area is confusing. “Ridesharing” has been used to refer to carpooling, to shared trips in a single Uber or Lyft, and to Uber and Lyft generally (nominally because the passenger is sharing the ride with their driver). Here we use “ridesharing” to refer to separate trips simultaneously serviced by the same vehicle for at least a portion of each. In principle, sharing all or part of a trip is a win-win. Riders pay a lower fare. Robotaxi companies serve two revenue-generating riders at the same cost. The challenge of ridesharing is it requires very high travel demand. The routing algorithm needs to find two riders traveling along similar routes at roughly the same time. TNCs have experimented with ridesharing programs such as UberPool and LyftLine. But the results have been disappointing. In 2023, Lyft—not coincidentally the company with the smaller network—mostly gave up on shared rides.117See Jackie Davalos, Lyft Will Discontinue Pooled Rides, Launch New Airport Feature, Bloomberg (May 11, 2023), https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-05-11/lyft-will-discontinue-pooled-rides-roll-out-new-features [https://web.archive.org/web/20230511204902/https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-05-11/lyft-will-discontinue-pooled-rides-roll-out-new-features]; Natalie Lung, Lyft Revives Pooled Rides at Airports in Push for Cheaper Trips, Fortune (May 19, 2025) https://fortune.com/2025/05/19/lyft-pooled-rides-at-airports-cheaper-trips [https://perma.cc/C27B-4QG2].

Robotaxi companies may have more success with sharing rides if they push fares low enough to grow the robotaxi market beyond the size of the TNC market. Today most commuters cannot afford to use TNCs for their daily trips to and from work. But the combination of automation and sharing could change these economics. And during peak periods, there are many potential riders coming from similar origin points heading to the same destination at the same time.118In the suburbs of Washington, D.C., some commuters meet at parking lots to share rides with strangers so that they can access faster, high-occupancy vehicle lanes. See Luz Lazo, ‘Slugging’ Culture in D.C. Region Threatened by Commuting Shifts, Wash. Post (Jan. 14, 2023), https://www.washingtonpost.com/transportation/2023/01/14/slug-lines-virginia-commuting-pandemic [https://web.archive.org/web/20230114123251/https://www.washingtonpost.com/transportation/2023/01/14/slug-lines-virginia-commuting-pandemic].

Companies could also encourage shared rides by introducing new vehicle forms. As we mentioned above, in Zoox’s robotaxis, passengers face each other.119See Zoox, supra note 79. Another possibility is compartmentalized vehicles, which might appeal to riders looking for safety and privacy.

Unfortunately, there’s a tradeoff between market concentration and shared rides. The more robotaxi companies competing for riders, the less likely that any two riders will be on the same network requesting a ride along the same route at roughly the same time. But it might be possible for multiple companies’ robotaxis to be deployed on the same network—or so we will argue in Part III.

C. Potential for Wider Adoption

The common vision for robotaxis is that they will not merely replace human-driven taxis, but that they will dramatically expand the market for

taxi-like services in large part by replacing trips in personal motor vehicles.120Timothy B. Lee articulated one version of this vision in 2008. See Timothy B. Lee, The Future of Driving, Part II: Life After Driving, Ars Technica (Oct. 12, 2008), https://arstechnica.com/features/2008/10/future-of-driving-part-2 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250717195358/https://arstechnica.com/features/2008/10/future-of-driving-part-2]. But some companies are still committed to the traditional automotive business model.

The demise of Cruise, a robotaxi startup acquired by General Motors, is instructive. As we explain more below, after a 2023 incident in which the company misled the public by misleading reporters and regulators,121See infra Section I.C.1. Cruise suspended its US robotaxi service. A year later, GM folded Cruise into its internal efforts to develop driver assistance features for the conventional vehicles it produces. In other words, GM has reverted to its traditional model of principally selling cars rather than rides.

GM is hardly alone in embracing this traditional approach. Mercedes already offers an automated driving feature—for certain freeways in certain conditions—on two of its premium models.122DRIVE PILOT Support Speed of up to 95 km/h on German Motorways, Mercedes-Benz Grp. (Dec. 17, 2024), https://group.mercedes-benz.com/innovations/product-innovation/autonomous-driving/drive-pilot-95-kmh.html [https://perma.cc/Y7Q4-48C7]. Many others are pursuing similar features. This traditional business model is understandable, especially if automakers ultimately decide to sell not only the vehicles but also subscriptions to use the automated driving features.123See Walker Smith, supra note 20. After all, like today’s robotaxis, these features might also depend on substantial digital and human infrastructure behind the curtain.

For the robotaxi business model to compete, automated driving technologies need to mature. As we discussed above, robotaxis need to become cheaper. And there are other obstacles.

First, vehicle ownership generally entails significant fixed costs (to purchase or lease the vehicle and to insure it) and either objectively or subjectively smaller variable costs to then operate that vehicle (to fill it or charge it).124Among other fixed and marginal costs, parking could be either fixed (monthly cost to park at home or at work) or marginal (incidental cost to park at a restaurant or an airport). Given this, those who own a car that they are unable or unwilling to part with are likely to compare the purchase price of a robotaxi trip with the marginal cost of a trip in their individually owned vehicle.

Second, for the reasons we described above, robotaxis will face competition not only from personal motor vehicles but also from personal automated vehicles. Automated driving will not be limited to robotaxis.

Third, many American car owners—and particularly families with children—use their cars as an extension of their homes. Some people literally live in their cars.125See Madeline Brozen, Where You Go When Your Car Is Home, Transfers Mag., Jan. 2023, at 1. Many rely on them as mobile storage lockers for themselves and their families—for sports equipment, booster seats, diapers, mobility aids, and stuff that they want on hand or simply cannot keep elsewhere.126This is why one of us has long anticipated a startup making little storage robots that can follow people around and dock onto a shared vehicle. Many also treat their vehicles as public displays or private retreats that are decorated and provisioned for their personal functional and aesthetic sensibilities.127This is why there has long been discussion of shared vehicles with individual compartments like the train carriages of old.

Fourth, many Americans see their personal motor vehicle as giving them autonomy. What happens if you give up your car and the robotaxi company jacks up its prices? Or what if there’s an earthquake, and you need to evacuate? We will explore these questions in Part III. For now, it suffices to say that how widely robotaxis will be adopted is an open question.

D. Regulation

There are many layers of regulation that apply to robotaxis. We consider two—automated driving safety regulation and robotaxi service regulation.

  1. Safety Regulation

The fundamental challenge of automated driving safety regulation is that it is hard to assess the safety of an ADS without observing its long-term performance on the road.128This is why “[t]he best proxy for the safety of Avs is the trustworthiness of AV companies.” Bryant Walker Smith, Opening Statement of Professor Bryant Walker Smith for the U.S. Senate Commerce Committee’s Hearing on Automated Driving, Stan. Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (Feb. 4, 2026), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2026/02/opening-statement-of-professor-bryant-walker-smith-for-the-u-s-senate-commerce-committees-hearing-on-automated-driving-february-4-2026-2 [https://perma.cc/MFT5-PSNE]. See generally Bryant Walker Smith, The Trustworthy Company, 115 Geo. L.J. (forthcoming) (arguing for corporate trustworthiness as leading indicator of system safety). An ADS that can safely navigate routine driving might still not be acceptably safe. The critical question is how it handles unanticipated edge cases. Over time, both NHTSA and state agencies have developed regulatory strategies that rely on monitoring and responding to safety incidents. We start with federal regulation.

In the absence of federal legislation specific to automated driving,129See, e.g., Walker Smith, supra note 22; Walker Smith, Probably Legal, supra note 21; Bryant Walker Smith, Congress’s Automated Driving Bills Are Both More and Less than They Seem, Stan. Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (Oct. 23, 2017), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2017/10/congress%E2%80%99s-automated-driving-bills-are-both-more-and-less-they-seem [https://perma.cc/QP3L-U79L]; Bryant Walker Smith, Here’s Where Federal Automated Driving Law Stands Near the End of the Biden Administration, Stanford Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (Nov. 18, 2024, 6:25 PM) [hereinafter Biden Admin], https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2024/11/heres-where-federal-automated-driving-law-stands-near-the-end-of-the-biden-administration [https://perma.cc/3PFD-AC6Y]. NHTSA is using its longstanding statutory authority to regulate vehicle safety generally. The National Traffic and Motor Vehicle Safety Act of 1966 (“the Safety Act”) authorizes NHTSA to (1) conduct investigations, (2) seek recalls of defective vehicles or equipment, and (3) set safety performance standards.13049 U.S.C. § 30111(a) (authorizing the Secretary of Transportation to set standards to “meet the need for motor vehicle safety”); id. § 30118(a), (b)(1) (authorizing Secretary of Transportation to make decision as to vehicle defect by conducting investigations); id. § 30163(a)(2) (issue recalls) (authorizing Attorney General to enjoin “sale, offer for sale, or introduction or delivery for introduction” of defective motor vehicles). NHTSA has used each of these authorities to address automated driving.

NHTSA has used its investigative power to mandate crash reporting.131Wansley, supra note 21, at 559–61. In 2021, NHTSA issued a standing general order that requires companies testing automated vehicles on public roads to report crashes.132See Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin, First Amended Standing General Order 2021-01 2 (Aug. 5, 2021) [hereinafter NHTSA 2021 SGO]. Serious crashes had to be reported within twenty-four hours, and all crashes, no matter how minor, had to be reported each month.133Id. at 5 (“Crashes that meet specified criteria must be reported within one calendar day after the manufacturer or operator learns of the crash, and other ADS crashes must be reported on a monthly basis.”). The criteria for reporting accidents within one calendar day includes crashes involving ADS or Level 2 ADAS that occur on a “publicly accessible road;” where ADS or Level 2 ADAS “was engaged at any time during the period from 30 seconds immediately prior to the commencement of the crash;” and where the crash resulted in “any individual being transported to the hospital for medical treatment, a fatality, a vehicle tow-away, or an air bag deployment or involves a vulnerable road user”). Id. at 13–14. In 2025, the agency narrowed the reporting requirement to exclude some crashes with less than $1,000 of property damage, but most other reporting requirements remain in place.134See Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin, Third Amended Standing General Order 2021-01 13 (Apr. 24, 2025) [hereinafter NHTSA 2025 SGO]. NHTSA has received reports of hundreds of crashes and made redacted reports available on its website, although it doesn’t provide the context that would make the reports easier to understand.135See Standing General Order on Crash Reporting, Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin. (Aug. 15, 2025) [hereinafter NHTSA SGO Reporting], https://www.nhtsa.gov/laws-regulations/standing-general-order-crash-reporting [https://perma.cc/9PJ8-YZT4]; see also Transforming Transp. Advisory Comm., supra note 13, at 51–52 (suggesting improvements to crash data collection and analysis).

NHTSA has used its recall power to remedy defective technologies.136See Wansley, supra note 21, at 563–65. Unless a company immediately initiates a recall on its own, these recalls often follow a pattern. NHTSA starts by opening an investigation into the company’s technologies. The company and the agency exchange data. They negotiate over potential remedies. Then the company resolves the investigation by declaring a defect and issuing a recall, which takes the form of change to the company’s software. In some cases, a recall can be carried out through over-the-air software updates.137Bryant Walker Smith, Over-the-Air Updates and Regulatory Recalls, Stanford Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (Feb. 20, 2024), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2024/02/over-air-updates-and-regulatory-recalls [https://perma.cc/K5XM-NFXL]. In the last few years, Tesla, Waymo, Zoox, and several other companies have each issued recalls.138See, e.g., Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Part 573 Safety Recall Report 22V-037 (2022) (Tesla rolling stop recall); Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Part 573 Safety Recall Report 25E-034 (2025) (Waymo gate barrier collision recall); Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Part 573 Safety Recall Report 25E-029 (2025) (Zoox encroaching perpendicular agents recall); Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Part 573 Safety Recall Report 22E-072 (2022), https://static.nhtsa.gov/odi/rcl/2022/RCLRPT-22E072-8020.PDF (Cruise unprotected left recall). For example, Waymo initiated a recall after one of its automated vehicles crashed into a pickup truck hanging off a tow truck and another crashed into a telephone pole.139See Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Part 573 Safety Recall Report 24E-013 2–3 (2024); Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Part 573 Safety Recall Report 24E-049 2–3 (2024).

NHTSA has not used its rulemaking power to affirmatively regulate automated driving.140See Wansley, supra note 21, at 559–77 (explaining that, instead of setting standards, NHTSA has implemented an experimental regulatory system based on reporting, investigations, and recalls). NHTSA has completed a rulemaking to map some existing occupant-safety standards onto vehicles without certain features associated with conventional driving. See id. at 545–48. The agency stated years ago that, given the rapid pace of technological change, it planned to regulate primarily through recalls.141See Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Federal Automated Vehicles Policy 3 (2016) [hereinafter AV 1.0]. But NHTSA has used its power to exempt vehicles and equipment from existing Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards (“FMVSSs”). In general, companies that integrate their ADS into FMVSS-compliant vehicles don’t need an exemption. They can just “self-certify” that their automated vehicles are compliant.142See 49 U.S.C. § 30115(a) (providing for self-certification). But companies that build vehicles with certain kinds of unconventional designs may need an exemption. For years, NHTSA was slow in considering ADS-related exemption requests.143See Walker Smith, Biden Admin, supra note 129 (describing instances where NHTSA “sat on” exemption requests until the companies eventually withdrew them). But starting in 2025,

NHTSA announced that it would expedite requests.144Letter from Peter Simshauser, Chief Counsel, Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Letter Announcing Next Steps in NHTSA’s Automated Vehicle Framework (June 13, 2025), https://www.nhtsa.gov/sites/nhtsa.gov/files/2025-06/part-555-letter-june-2025.pdf [https://perma.cc/9FGQ-RHTC] (“NHTSA is streamlining its exemption process for commercial deployment of vehicles and adopting a dynamic and flexible approach to evaluating these exemptions.”). And shortly thereafter, it granted an exemption to Zoox.145Press Release, U.S. Dep’t of Transp., NHTSA Issues First-Ever Demonstration Exemption to American-Built Automated Vehicles (Aug. 6, 2025) https://www.transportation.gov/briefing-room/nhtsa-issues-first-ever-demonstration-exemption-american-built-automated-vehicles [https://perma.cc/PVF5-N7D5].

It is important to recognize that, under the Safety Act, FMVSS exemptions are limited either by purpose or by number of vehicles. But because NHTSA itself promulgates these standards, it can obviate the need for exemptions by changing the underlying standards—as it has already done in the case of certain occupant-protection standards.146See Walker Smith, Biden Admin, supra note 129.

There is another layer of automated driving safety regulation at the state level.147See Bryant Walker Smith, The Senate’s Automated Driving Bill Could Squash State Authority, Stanford Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (Oct. 23, 2017, 3:44 PM), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2017/10/senate%E2%80%99s-automated-driving-bill-could-squash-state-authority [https://perma.cc/QT9N-U9C5] (noting “important role” that states play in regulating road safety). We focus on the first two states where commercial robotaxi service became available, Arizona and California. They nicely illustrate the range of options.

Arizona’s policy is relatively laissez-faire—although still arguably more stringent than the rules that apply to conventional driving. An Arizona statute expressly authorizes companies to operate automated vehicles on two conditions.148See Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 28-9702 (2025). Automated driving activities in Arizona predated this statute. In fact, while Nevada has the distinction of being the first state to pass a law specific to automated driving, see Walker Smith, Probably Legal, supra note 21, at 501. First, the company must provide the state’s Department of Public Safety with a plan for how law enforcement can effectively interact with the vehicles.149Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 28-9702(C)(1) (2025). Second, the company must provide the state’s Department of Transportation (“DOT”) with a written statement “acknowledging” that its vehicles comply with federal safety standards and Arizona’s registration, licensing, and insurance requirements.150Id. §§ 28-9702(C)(2)(a), (d). The company must also “acknowledg[e]” that its ADS can comply with the traffic law and achieve a “minimal risk condition”—which generally though

not necessarily involves pulling over to side of the road151See Bryant Walker Smith, Deep in the Weeds of the Levels of Driving Automation Lurks an Ambiguous Minimal Risk Condition, Stanford Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (Jan. 24, 2022), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2022/01/deep-weeds-levels-driving-automation-lurks-ambiguous-minimal-risk-condition [https://perma.cc/2AHA-HQPW].—when it encounters a situation it cannot handle safely.152Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 28-9702(C)(2)(b) (2025).

Arizona does not specifically empower regulators to set independent safety standards. But it does authorize the DOT to suspend the registration of an automated vehicle after determining it “is not in safe mechanical condition and endangers persons on the highway.”153Id. § 28-9708(D) (2025). And the statute makes it clear that the company that is testing or deploys the automated vehicle “may be issued a traffic citation or other applicable penalty if the vehicle fails to comply with traffic or motor vehicle laws.”154Id. § 28-9702(C)(2)(c) (2025).

Arizona has succeeded at attracting testing to the state. But its approach may have also contributed to a fatal crash. In the late 2010s, before the enactment of Arizona’s current automated driving statute,155The statute largely codified the approach of a 2018 executive order issued by the state’s then-governor shortly before Uber’s crash. See Douglas A. Ducey of Ariz., Ariz. Exec. Order 2018-04 (Mar. 1, 2018); Fact Sheet for H.B. 2813, S. 55th Leg., 1st Sess. (Ariz. Mar. 4, 2021). Uber was attempting to develop an ADS with the goal of operating a robotaxi service. It was testing automated vehicles in Arizona with safety drivers.156Bryant Walker Smith, Uber’s Fatal Crash, Stan. Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (Mar. 19, 2018), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2018/03/ubers-fatal-crash [https://perma.cc/CYY3-HMDK]. In March 2018, one of Uber’s vehicles struck and killed Elaine Herzberg in Tempe, Arizona.157Nat’l Transp. Safety Bd., Highway Accident Report: Collision Between Vehicle Controlled by Developmental Automated Driving System and Pedestrian 1 (2018) [hereinafter NTSB Tempe Report]; Richard Gonzales, Feds Say Self-Driving Uber SUV Did Not Recognize Jaywalking Pedestrian in Fatal Crash, NPR (Nov. 7, 2019), https://www.npr.org/2019/11/07/777438412/feds-say-self-driving-uber-suv-did-not-recognize-jaywalking-pedestrian-in-fatal- [https://perma.cc/9J8V-MML8]. Herzberg was walking her bike across a multi-lane boulevard in the evening.158NTSB Tempe Report, at 2. The Uber ADS sensors detected Herzberg, but the software did not slow the vehicle until it was too late.159See id. at v (“The ADS detected the pedestrian 5.6 seconds before impact. Although the ADS continued to track the pedestrian until the crash, it never accurately classified her as a pedestrian or predicted her path. By the time the ADS determined that a collision was imminent, the situation exceeded the response specifications of the ADS braking system.”). The safety driver didn’t react in time because she was distracted by her smartphone.160See id. at 43 (“[T]he vehicle operator was visually distracted, and by the time she raised her gaze from her cell phone to the road, she had only about 1 second to detect and respond to the pedestrian. By that time, she could not avoid the collision.”).

The National Transportation Safety Board (“NTSB”) investigated the crash and issued a report that criticized both the safety driver and Uber’s safety practices.161Id. at v–vi (describing probable cause as driver’s inattentiveness combined with Uber’s “inadequate safety risk assessment procedures,” “ineffective oversight of vehicle operators,” and “lack of adequate mechanisms for addressing operators’ automation complacency”). Regulators might have been able to prevent the crash if they had asked Uber more questions about how it was monitoring safety drivers and preventing them from becoming complacent. After the crash, Arizona’s governor ostensibly suspended Uber’s right to operate automated vehicles in the state.162See Melissa Daniels, Arizona Governor Suspends Uber from Autonomous Testing, Associated Press (Mar. 26, 2018), https://apnews.com/article/0ae96a5b23a542e39da252c4267ec3a5 [https://perma.cc/3XZG-ULEU]; Bryant Walker Smith, A Sad Irony for Governor Ducey After Uber’s Fatal Crash, Stan. Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y: Blog (Mar. 27, 2018), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2018/03/sad-irony-governor-ducey-after-ubers-fatal-crash [https://perma.cc/X7G4-UHVM]. But Arizona didn’t change its general approach to safety regulation.163Arizona did eventually enact a statute. See Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 28-9702 (2025).

California’s policy is more hands-on.164One of us (Bryant) formally consults for the State of California. The DMV is currently updating its regulations. A California statute directs the state’s Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) to develop an application process for the testing and deployment of automated vehicles.165Cal. Veh. Code § 38750(c) (West 2025). The statute requires all automated vehicles to comply with federal vehicle safety standards (unless exempted).166Id. § 38750(c)(1)(E). It also provides, however, that the DMV’s application process “shall include any testing, equipment, and performance standards [that it] concludes are necessary” for safety.167Id. § 38750(d)(2). This language suggests that the DMV may directly regulate ADS safety. (More generally, states already exercise broad authority over the operational safety of vehicles, including through driver regulation, rules of the road, and vehicle roadworthiness.)168See Walker Smith, Probably Legal, supra note 21.

California’s DMV issues three kinds of automated driving permits: testing (with a safety driver), driverless testing (without a safety driver in the vehicle), and deployment.169To receive any of the three permits, a company must prove that it can satisfy a five-million-dollar judgment. Cal. Code Regs. tit. 13, § 227.04(c) (2025). To receive a testing permit, a company must certify that its safety drivers have clean driver safety records and have completed a training program. Id. § 227.34(b)(1)–(2). To receive a driverless testing permit, a company must provide a statement of its ADS’s ODD, a law enforcement interaction plan, and an explanation of its remote monitoring system. Id. § 227.38. This is currently being updated. A company engaging in activities for which a permit is required is subject to specific reporting requirements.170Id. § 227.50 (requiring annual report); Id. § 227.48 (requiring reporting of collisions resulting in “damage of property or in bodily injury or death”). The company must disclose, among other information, the number of miles its automated vehicles drove on California roads and any crashes in which they were involved.171Id. § 227.50(b)(3)(B)(iii), (4). Unlike NHTSA, California doesn’t let companies redact their narrative description of the crash. The combination of miles reporting and crash reporting gives the DMV a rough sense of a company’s crash rate, though this must be understood in the context of the ADS’s ODD.

To receive a deployment permit, a company must certify, among other things, that its vehicles have a two-way communication link with a remote agent and that they meet industry standards for cybersecurity.172Id. § 228.06(a)(1), (10). It must also provide information about its testing on public roads in California and elsewhere, including the number of miles driven and any crashes during testing.173Id. § 228.06(c)(7). The DMV can use the company’s track record in driverless testing to assess the risk of deployment. If the track record raises concerns, the DMV may decline to issue the deployment permit.

California currently doesn’t require a company with a deployment permit to report miles or crashes. This is unfortunate, because although companies are still reporting crashes to NHTSA, the public is deprived of access to the crash narratives that NHTSA redacts. The DMV does, however, require a company with a deployment permit to report any recalls it issues.174Id. § 228.12. And the DMV also has the power to suspend or revoke permits on several grounds, including if it determines that the company’s “vehicles are not safe for the public’s operation.”175Id. § 228.20.

The strengths and weaknesses of California’s permitting system are illustrated by its experience with Cruise, the now defunct robotaxi subsidiary of General Motors. Cruise jumped through all the hoops—obtaining a testing permit, a driverless testing permit, and a deployment permit.176Autonomous Vehicle Testing Permit Holders, Cal. Dep’t Motor Vehicles, https://www.dmv.ca.gov/portal/vehicle-industry-services/autonomous-vehicles/autonomous-vehicle-testing-permit-holders [https://perma.cc/5DEV-7UGP]. And in 2022, Cruise started to deploy a robotaxi fleet in San Francisco.177See Autonomous Vehicles in San Francisco, S.F. Mun. Transp. Agency, https://www.sfmta.com/projects/autonomous-vehicles-avs-san-francisco [https://perma.cc/UD7Y-Q3J8]. By the summer of 2023, Cruise’s robotaxis were involved in some crashes that raised doubts about its technologies. After a crash between a Cruise robotaxi and a firetruck, the California DMV made Cruise cut its fleet in half.178See Dara Kerr, Driverless Car Startup Cruise’s No Good, Terrible Year, NPR (Dec. 30, 2023), https://www.npr.org/2023/12/30/1222083720/driverless-cars-gm-cruise-waymo-san-francisco-accidents [https://perma.cc/29YK-JGJC]. Then in October 2023, a conventional vehicle (whose driver fled the scene) hit a pedestrian walking across the street, and the force of that collision propelled her into a Cruise robotaxi in an adjacent lane.179Tripp Mickle & Cade Metz, Cruise Says Hostility to Regulators Led to Grounding of Its Autonomous Cars, N.Y. Times (Jan. 25, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/25/technology/cruise-crash-report-san-francisco.html [https://perma.cc/6HMX-TCQB]. The robotaxi ran her over, stopped, and then started moving again, dragging her while she was pinned beneath the vehicle.180Id.

Cruise then misled regulators and the public about the crash by focusing on the initial collisions and failing to mention the subsequent dragging.181See Trisha Thadani, General Motors Scraps Robotaxi Development in New Fallout from 2023 Crash, Wash. Post (Dec. 10, 2024), https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2024/12/10/gm-cruise-scraps-robotaxi [https://perma.cc/4DEX-MU86]. When the California DMV learned the full story, it suspended Cruise’s deployment permit.182See Mickle & Metz, supra note 179. The DMV said it was suspending Cruise’s permits both because it had concluded that Cruise’s ADS was not safe and because Cruise had misrepresented information related to safety.183Id. The company paid a $1.5 million federal fine.184Jack Ewing, Cruise, G.M.’s Self-Driving Unit, Will Pay $1.5 Million Federal Fine, N.Y. Times (Sept. 30, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/30/business/gm-cruise-nhtsa-fine.html [https://perma.cc/LR7H-A6QD]. In December 2024, GM shut Cruise down while claiming that its work would be folded into GM’s efforts to develop more advanced features on its production vehicles.185See Thadani, supra note 181.

Until recently, California’s automated driving law didn’t explicitly provide a way for police to enforce the traffic law when a company was operating automated vehicles with no safety driver behind the wheel. This loophole deeply concerned local officials. The City of San Francisco explained that its police and fire departments don’t know what to do when a robotaxi blocked traffic or emergency vehicles.186Kevin Truong, When a Robotaxi Gets a Ticket, Who Is Accountable if There’s No Driver?, S.F. Standard (June 16, 2023), https://sfstandard.com/2023/06/16/san-francisco-wants-robotaxis-to-get-tickets-for-moving-violations [https://perma.cc/AHY9-LBP6]. In 2024, California enacted a statute that authorizes police to issue a “notice of autonomous vehicle noncompliance” against a company when one of its automated vehicles violates the traffic law.187Cal. Veh. Code § 387502(a) (West 2024).

  1. Service Regulation

Robotaxi companies may also be subject to another layer of regulation—regulation of the provision of transportation service. In Arizona and California, robotaxi regulation grew out of TNC regulation, which in a sense grew out of (or was imposed over) taxi regulation.

Taxi companies are often regulated as or akin to common carriers.188James B. Speta, Southwest Airlines, MCI, and Now Uber: Lessons for Managing Competitive Entry into Taxi Markets, 43 Transp. L.J. 101, 104 (2016). Many large municipalities restrict entry into the formal taxi market.189Wyman, supra note 18, at 31. In some cities, taxi drivers own or lease a medallion that authorizes them to operate.190See, e.g., Speta, supra note 188, at 107 (“For example, the Municipal Code of Chicago required a medallion (license) to operate a taxicab, established the rates for taxi trips (and forbade any agreement to charge a greater rate), and set quality standards for vehicles.”). Fares are fixed by regulation, usually at a constant rate per mile.191Id. at 114. And taxi companies are required to provide universal service—they cannot discriminate among riders.192Id. at 107.

Municipalities justify each element of taxi regulation with different policy rationales. Entry restrictions are thought to reduce congestion, limit pollution, protect driver pay, and prevent taxi drivers from competing for riders in dangerous ways.193Wyman, supra note 18, at 68. Fare regulation is seen as a remedy for imperfect information. Riders hailing taxis on the street cannot easily compare fares, so regulation ensures the fares are always the same.194Id. at 40. The universal service requirement has distributive goals—providing mobility for all residents regardless of their race, sex, class, or neighborhood.195Id. at 67–68.

The combination of entry restrictions, fare regulation, and a universal service requirement is also intended to create a system of implicit cross-subsidies.196Speta, supra note 188, at 115–16. The profits that taxis make in places and times with high travel demand (and thus less deadheading) subsidize the service they provide in places and times with low travel demand.197Id. at 114. Without these regulations, new entrants might be able to “creamskim”—serve only the high value trips and thereby erode the profits that cross-subsidize other trips.198Id. at 115. This was an early complaint about Uber and Lyft.

It is hard to assess whether the benefits of traditional taxi regulations outweigh the costs. With entry restricted, the taxi industry had little incentive for innovation. It was startups, not incumbents, that introduced hailing by app. The system of cross-subsidies didn’t always work. Many Brooklynites have hailed a cab in Manhattan only to watch the driver pull away after they gave their destination. But as defenders of taxi regulation have pointed out, many American cities experimented with deregulating taxis in the 1960s, 70s, and 80s only to find that fares rose and service quality declined.199Paul Stephen Dempsey, Taxi Industry Regulation, Deregulation & Reregulation: The Paradox of Market Failure, 24 Transp. L.J. 73, 107–10 (1996). In fact, most large cities that deregulated ultimately decided to bring back regulation.200Id. at 115–16.

In the 2010s, taxi regulation faced a new challenge—the rise of app-based ridehailing. Uber and Lyft offered lower fares, often shorter wait times, seamless payment, a driver rating system, and a more convenient way to hail a ride.201Wyman, supra note 18, at 4, 8, 26–27, 56–57. They rapidly took market share away from taxis.202See Schneider, supra note 96. Uber and Lyft were also “regulatory entrepreneurs.”203See Elizabeth Pollman & Jordan M. Barry, Regulatory Entrepreneurship, 90 S. Cal. L. Rev. 383, 385 (2017) (calling companies that “make[] changing the law a material part of its business plan” regulatory entrepreneurs). In many jurisdictions, their service was illegal or in a legal gray area. For example, while Uber initially focused on professional drivers that might be regulated by something like NYC’s Taxi and Limousine Commission, it soon expanded to ordinary drivers who were freelancing. In some jurisdictions, legislators and regulators cracked down.204Id. at 399. Uber and Lyft fought back by encouraging their customers to lobby their state representatives to legalize—and often preempt local regulation of—the transportation service they had come to prefer.205See id. at 409 (recounting an example where Uber hired a team of lobbyists to “fight the legislative effort to override the veto”).

In recent years, the TNC market has stabilized. Uber and Lyft have formed a duopoly, splitting the market about three-to-one.206Kaczmarski, supra note 19. They have both steadily raised their fares.207See Schneider, supra note 96. After their respective IPOs, they could no longer rely on venture capitalists to subsidize their rides and faced investor pressure to turn a profit. In hindsight, the low fares and high driver pay of ridehailing’s early days were an unsustainable illusion—and arguably a predatory pricing scheme.208Matthew T. Wansley & Samuel N. Weinstein, Venture Predation, 48 J. Corp. L. 813, 815 (2023) But despite the increased fares, TNCs are offering a better service than taxis did, at least if you measure by consumers’ willingness to pay.

Municipalities and taxi companies should have taken the opportunity presented by app-based ridehailing to rethink taxi regulation. They should have been allowed to craft a new set of rules that apply equally to all vehicles-for-hire.209Wyman, supra note 18, at 31 (“[R]egulators should treat all vehicles providing point-to-point transportation in response to customer requests as a unit . . . .”). But that didn’t happen. In many states, Uber and Lyft bypassed cities and went directly to state legislatures in their pursuit of a new legal category—TNCs—with a new set of rules different than the local rules that continue to apply to taxis.

Although often associated with their apps, the key feature of TNCs is their reliance on drivers using their own private vehicles.210Arizona defines a TNC as a business “that uses a digital network or software application to connect passengers to transportation network services provided by [TNC] drivers and that may but is not deemed to own, operate or control a personal motor vehicle of a [TNC] driver.” Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 28-9551(3) (2025). California defines a TNC as a business “that provides prearranged transportation services for compensation using an online-enabled application or platform to connect passengers with drivers using a personal vehicle.” Cal. Pub. Util. Code § 5431 (West 2025). TNCs are not subject to entry restrictions or to fare regulation that many municipalities still apply to taxis.211See Wyman, supra note 18, at 32, 43. The imperfect information rationale for fare regulation is arguably obsolete because riders can compare fares by toggling between apps.212Id. at 40. To the extent that certain rides are subsidized, it is because of strategic considerations by the companies or the drivers.

The content of TNC regulation varies by state. Arizona’s rules focus on rider and driver safety. Arizona’s TNC statute provides that the state Department of Transportation shall issue permits to TNCs that comply with the statute’s requirements.213Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 28-9552(A) (2025). Before each ride, TNCs must disclose to riders the identity of the driver, the vehicle’s license plate, and the fare.214Id. § 28-9553(C). After each ride, they must provide riders with an electronic receipt and preserve a digital record of the trip.215Id. § 28-9553(D). TNCs must disclose to drivers when the company’s insurance policies apply to them.216Id. § 28-9558. And they must screen drivers by conducting criminal background and driving record checks and enforcing a zero tolerance policy for drugs and alcohol.217Id. § 28-9554.

California’s TNC statute goes further. It allocates regulatory authority to the state’s public utilities regulator, the California Public Utilities Commission (“CPUC”).218Cal. Pub. Util. Code § 5440. Like Arizona, California requires that TNCs disclose to riders information about the driver and vehicle, disclose to drivers when the company’s insurance policies apply, and conduct a criminal background check on drivers.219Id. §§ 5432, 5445.1, 5445.2. But California also mandates that TNCs meet specific minimum levels for insurance coverage that are higher than those that would otherwise apply to personal motor vehicles.220Id. § 5433. And it prohibits TNCs from disclosing a rider’s personally identifiable information to third parties without consent.221Id. § 5437.

California takes modest steps to address the externalities that TNCs create. TNCs must develop a “greenhouse gas emissions reduction plan” with targets for increasing the proportion of drivers using electric vehicles.222Id. § 5450(c). And the California legislature granted San Francisco the authority to tax riders of traditional TNCs and robotaxis to fund the city’s transportation operations and infrastructure.223Id. § 5446. California has also tried to encourage TNCs to expand mobility. They are required to charge their riders five cents per trip to contribute to the “TNC Access for All Fund,” which supports accessible transportation.224Id. § 5440.5.

The development of robotaxis has long been connected with the rise of ridehailing. The leaders of the Google self-driving car program decided to pursue the robotaxi business model as they watched ridehailing take off.225Lawrence D. Burns & Christopher Shulgan, Autonomy 246–47 (2018). Both Uber and Lyft tried to develop their own ADS. Uber founder Travis Kalanick once called robotaxis “existential” for his company.226Nick Statt, Uber CEO Says Self-Driving Cars Won’t Replace Human Drivers in the Near Term, Verge (Oct. 19, 2016), https://www.theverge.com/2016/10/19/13341130/uber-travis-kalanick-self-driving-cars-automation-jobs [https://perma.cc/L7KM-7RUG]. But the reputation of Uber’s automated driving program was damaged by revelations following its fatal crash in Arizona in 2018. And after their IPOs, neither Uber nor Lyft had the cash to sustain their programs, so they sold them.227Lizette Chapman & Dana Hull, Uber Sells Self-Driving Unit to Aurora, Takes Startup Stake, Bloomberg (Dec. 7, 2020), https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-12-07/uber-sells-self-driving-unit-to-aurora-takes-stake-in-startup [https://web.archive.org/web/20250726073842/https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-12-07/uber-sells-self-driving-unit-to-aurora-takes-stake-in-startup]; Woven Planet, a Subsidiary of Toyota, to Acquire Lyft’s Self-Driving Car Division, Lyft (Apr. 26, 2021), https://investor.lyft.com/news-and-events/news/news-details/2021/Woven-Planet-a-subsidiary-of-Toyota-to-acquire-Lyfts-self-driving-car-division [https://perma.cc/EF4R-R5QM].

The first robotaxi regulations have been strongly influenced by TNC regulations. Arizona applies its TNC regulations to robotaxis through incorporation by reference. An Arizona statute provides that: “An on-demand autonomous vehicle network may operate pursuant to [the state’s TNC statute] except that any provision of [that statute] that by its nature reasonably applies only to a human driver does not apply to a fully autonomous vehicle operating with the [ADS] engaged . . . .”228Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 28-9704 (2025).

California’s legislature has not enacted a statute specific to robotaxis (as opposed to TNCs, vehicles for hire, or automated driving more generally). Instead, the CPUC created its robotaxi regulations using its existing statutory authority over vehicles for hire.229California’s public utilities code defines a broad category of Transportation Charter Party Carriers (TCPs) that includes “every person engaged in the transportation of persons by motor vehicle for compensation, whether in common or contract carriage, over any public highway in this state.” Cal. Pub. Util. Code § 5360 (West 2011). TNCs are just one subcategory of TCPs. As one federal court has explained, “[t]he key distinguishing characteristic of TCPs, as opposed to traditional taxis, is that the transportation must be ‘prearranged’ rather than hailed on the street.” Overton v. Uber Techs., Inc., 333 F. Supp. 3d 927, 936 (N.D. Cal. 2018). The CPUC couldn’t regulate robotaxi companies as TNCs because they don’t meet the statutory definition of TNCs—they don’t connect people with drivers. But they do meet the broader definition of a TCP. In 2018, the CPUC created two pilot programs for robotaxis. The first pilot let companies with a vehicle-for-hire permit and a DMV testing permit offer rides in their robotaxis with a safety driver present.230Decision Authorizing a Pilot Test Program for Autonomous Vehicle Passenger Service with Drivers and Addressing in Part Issues Raised in the Petitions for Modification of General Motors, LLC/GM Cruise, LLC, Lyft, Inc., and Rasier-CA, LLC/UATC, LLC for Purposes of a Pilot Test Program for Driverless Autonomous Vehicle Passenger Service, Order Instituting Rulemaking on Regulations Relating to Passenger Carriers, Ridesharing, and New Online-Enabled Transportation Services, R. 12-12-011, at 4 (Cal. Pub. Utils. Comm’n May 31, 2018) [hereinafter CPUC Pilot Programs Order]. The second pilot let companies with a vehicle-for-hire permit and a DMV driverless testing permit offer rides without a safety driver.231Id. Companies participating in the pilots were prohibited from accepting payment from riders. And they were required to submit aggregate data on their operations.232Id. at 39. Cruise, Waymo, Zoox, and three other companies obtained permits for at least one of the pilots.233Decision Authorizing Deployment of Drivered and Driverless Autonomous Vehicle Passenger Service, Order Instituting Rulemaking on Regulations Relating to Passenger Carriers, Ridesharing, and New Online-Enabled Transportation Services, R. 12-12-011, at 5 (Cal. Pub. Utils. Comm’n Nov. 19, 2020) [hereinafter CPUC Deployment Order].

In 2020, the CPUC issued regulations for robotaxi deployment. Companies with a vehicle-for-hire permit and a DMV deployment permit were allowed to apply to the CPUC for a robotaxi deployment permit.234Id. at 3. Companies that were approved were allowed to start charging riders.235Id. The CPUC imposed two new obligations on applicants. First, they have to submit a “Passenger Safety Plan” that explains how they (1) minimize safety risks from other riders; (2) minimize safety risks from outside the vehicle; (3) ensure riders can safely identify the vehicle, enter, and exit; (4) enable riders to communicate with remote operators; and (5) collect and respond to rider complaints.236Id. at 35. Second, after a company is approved to deploy, it has to submit detailed, trip-level data on each ride request and each ride.237Id. at 2 (indicating that participants must provide data, inter alia, on the “pick-up and drop-off locations for individual trips”).

Two companies—Cruise and Waymo—applied to deploy a commercial robotaxi service in San Francisco.238Press Release, CPUC Approves Permits for Cruise and Waymo to Charge Fares for Passenger Service in San Francisco, Cal. Pub. Utils. Comm’n (Aug. 10, 2023), https://www.cpuc.ca.gov/news-and-updates/all-news/cpuc-approves-permits-for-cruise-and-waymo-to-charge-fares-for-passenger-service-in-sf-2023 [https://perma.cc/NW7N-3WGD]. In August 2023, the CPUC approved both requests.239Id. But as we have seen, Cruise’s robotaxi service did not last long. The CPUC suspended Cruise’s robotaxi deployment permit after the DMV suspended Cruise’s ADS deployment permit in the aftermath of its serious pedestrian crash in October 2023.240See Rebecca Bellan, California Agency Pulls Cruise’s Commercial Robotaxi Permit Following DMV Action, TechCrunch (Oct. 24, 2023), https://techcrunch.com/2023/10/24/cpuc-pulls-cruise-robotaxi-permit-after-dmv-suspension [https://perma.cc/Q4ZR-XWDL]. Waymo’s robotaxi operations, however, have continued to grow. In March 2024, the CPUC approved Waymo’s request to expand its service area in San Francisco down to Silicon Valley and to add a new service area in Los Angeles.241See Cal. Pub. Utils. Comm’n, Letter Approving Waymo’s Advice Letter (Mar. 1, 2024), https://www.cpuc.ca.gov/-/media/cpuc-website/divisions/consumer-protection-and-enforcement-division/documents/tlab/av-programs/waymo-al-2-disposition-letter-20240301_signed.pdf [https://perma.cc/5QR9-78QZ].

So today, at least two states have considerable experience regulating an active commercial robotaxi service.242Waymo now operates in other states as well—though for less time and, in some cases, with less oversight than in Arizona and especially California. In the rest of this Article, we ask, how should they regulate?

II. Curbing Externalities

We start with regulating externalities. Robotaxis will emit pollutants into the environment. They will contribute to wear and tear on physical infrastructure. They will cause congestion. They will passively surveil their surroundings, which could erode privacy. But so too will many other technologies and travel modes. In this Part, we consider how policymakers should respond to the externalities of robotaxis in a way that accounts for this broader context.

A. Externalities and Mode Choice

One might think there’s an easy answer to the externalities robotaxis create: impose Pigouvian taxes, so the robotaxi companies internalize the costs. But personal motor vehicles, taxis, TNCs, and other modes of travel—whether automated or not—also create externalities. So policymakers must consider how externality regulation will affect choices among modes.

Burdening automated driving in ways that do not burden conventional driving will push people toward conventional driving. Burdening robotaxis in ways that do not burden personal automated vehicles will push people toward personal automated vehicles. If robotaxis offer net social benefits relative to those modes, these are not desirable outcomes.

But externality regulation that applies to all travel modes might not always be attainable.243Walker Smith, supra note 13, at 674. The practicality and political feasibility of regulation can vary by mode. In some cases, robotaxis might be easier to regulate, and to at least some degree policymakers should take advantage of the opportunity.

We suggest a hierarchy of action:

  • Internalize costs across all travel modes.
  • Where this is not possible, internalize costs across motor vehicle modes.
  • Where this is not possible, internalize costs across fleet-deployed motor vehicles.
  • Where this is not possible, internalize costs across automated vehicles.
  • Where this is not possible, internalize costs across robotaxis.

Costs can be internalized through taxation, market caps, performance requirements, or other regulatory mechanisms. If applied proportionately, the regulatory mechanisms should be automatically indexed so that the extent of a mode’s internalization of its external costs rises along with its share of the market. In addition, when choosing what and how to regulate, we suggest prioritizing action on what are likely to be significant inflection

points that could lock the public, policymakers, and companies into one long-term path or another.

Take the example of motor vehicle emissions that we discuss below. Ideally, in our view, regulators would require that all new motor vehicles244Technically, each manufacturer’s set of new vehicles. While this is called a “fleet,” we use that term in a different way in this paragraph. achieve increasingly aggressive fuel efficiency standards. If that’s not politically realistic, then it may be appropriate to begin with fleets—government vehicles, other vehicle pools, rental cars, and the like.245State and federal agencies may have flexibility and authority in their procurement capacity that they do not in their regulatory capacity. See, e.g., 49 U.S.C. § 30103(b)(1) (“However, the United States Government, a State, or a political subdivision of a State may prescribe a standard for a motor vehicle or motor vehicle equipment obtained for its own use that imposes a higher performance requirement than that required by the otherwise applicable standard under this chapter.”). But imposing significant initial burdens on these fleets could significantly disadvantage them vis-à-vis private ownership models. And so, it may be appropriate to require fleet vehicles to meet a fuel efficiency standard that is somewhere between the standard for regular vehicles and the standard that would be ideal.

Or take the example of the third-party liability insurance required for motor vehicles. Countries in the European Union generally require vehicle owners and operators to have liability insurance that covers anywhere from millions of dollars of exposure to literally unlimited exposure.246See Directive (EU) 2021/2118 of the European Parliament and of the Council, 2021 O.J. (L 430) 1; Council of Bureaux (AISBL), Minimum Amount of Insurance Coverage (Jan. 2026) (on file with the authors). Even the low end of this range is a hundred to a thousand times greater than minimum insurance requirements in most U.S. states. Ideally, in our view, states would dramatically increase insurance minimums across the board and index them to inflation.247South Carolina required $10,000 of automotive liability insurance in 1963. Adjusted for medical inflation, this is equivalent to requiring about $230,000 today—and yet the state, like many others, currently requires only $25,000 in coverage for a single injury. S.C. Code Ann. § 38-77-140 (2024). States have not done so.248Though North Carolina recently doubled its minimum. Changes to the Rating of Automobile Insurance Policies, Effective July 1, 2025, N.C. Dep’t of Ins., https://www.ncdoi.gov/changes-rating-automobile-insurance-policies-effective-july-1-2025 [https://perma.cc/32GA-HAD8]. This is commendable even as it is still far short of what we consider the ideal. Some states, however, have required the companies testing or deploying automated vehicles to show financial responsibility in the millions of dollars.249See, e.g., Nev. Rev. Stat. § 482A.060 (2025) (requiring that person that begins testing autonomous vehicles within State must submit “proof of insurance or self-insurance acceptable to the Department in the amount of $5,000,000”); Fla. Stat. § 316.86(1) (2015) (requiring that entity “performing the testing” of an ADS “submit to the department an instrument of insurance, surety bond, or proof of self-insurance . . . in the amount of $5 million”). Under our approach, the difference between the two requirements might not be so great, but this is at least useful precedent—and, in fairness, does not seem to have dampened enthusiasm for automated driving.250In fact, Nevada originally intended for its higher insurance requirement to function as an entry barrier for individuals and smaller companies that might irresponsibly test their automated creations on public roads. Stanford Center for Internet and Society, How an (Autonomous Driving) Bill Becomes Law, at 1:05:40–1:06:07 (YouTube Nov. 12, 2012), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gx6D55poYdk [https://perma.cc/7PL7-G93B]. And Florida intended its higher insurance requirement to in effect delegate safety regulation to the insurance industry. Marc Scribner, How Florida Hit the Gas on Self-Driving Car Development, Competitive Enter. Inst. (Sep. 26, 2019), https://cei.org/opeds_articles/how-florida-hit-the-gas-on-self-driving-car-development [https://perma.cc/8U56-HXQH].

Finally, we recognize that even when internalizing externalities provides benefits to those with less money, it can also impose disproportionate costs on them. An increase of $1,000 in the price of a new car to include an important safety feature is negligible for someone who can afford a $150,000 car but significant for someone who can afford only a $15,000 car. So too is increasing the per-mile cost of a trip (whether by private automobile or robotaxi) by fifty cents.

Fortunately, internalizing costs is only half of the policy question. The other half is how to channel the societal gains. In the easiest case of governmental revenue, a government can return to households any additional funds it receives from, say, taxing carbon or setting a floor for the price of energy. If designed carefully, these rebates can ultimately enhance rather than diminish individual choice: Someone who chooses to travel an average amount by personal automobile might well break even if their rebate covers the additional costs of fuel, tolls, and parking. Meanwhile, someone who chooses to live closer to work or bicycle may well come out ahead. Even where the benefits are societal rather than governmental and abstract rather than fiscal, smart policies can equitably capture and return some of this gain.251We do recognize the irony of reimagining broader governmental philosophy and policy in a discussion ostensibly on second-best solutions.

In this section, we address just some of the external costs of motor vehicle travel: pollution, wear-and-tear, congestion, and privacy. Of course, traffic injury is a national crisis, but it is beyond the scope of our present analysis.252On this point, see, e.g., Transforming Transp. Advisory Comm., supra note 13. For a broad vision of road traffic safety, to which automated driving might contribute, see Bryant Walker Smith, Road Traffic Safety, NewlyPossible.org (Sep. 26, 2022), https://newlypossible.org/wiki/Road_traffic_safety [https://perma.cc/CG7V-XN45].

B. Pollution

A critical externality of motor vehicle use is air pollution. Tailpipe emissions from traditional gasoline and diesel vehicles account for about one-fifth of greenhouse gas emissions in the United States.253See Fast Facts on Transportation Greenhouse Gas Emissions, U.S. Env’t Prot. Agency (June 6, 2025), https://www.epa.gov/greenvehicles/fast-facts-transportation-greenhouse-gas-emissions [https://perma.cc/8MEB-GB77]. And tailpipes also emit other gases and particulates harmful to human health.254Off. Transp. & Air Quality, U.S. Env’t Prot. Agency, EPA-420-F-23-014, Tailpipe Greenhouse Gas Emissions from a Typical Passenger Vehicle 2–3 (2023).

The gradual electrification of the vehicle fleet is reducing its per-mile carbon footprint.255Specifically, nonpoint source pollution of the byproducts of combustion. EVs still require energy to be produced somewhere, and they still pollute through mechanical means (such as tire wear). See supra note 10 and accompanying text. In the most recent quarter, almost nine percent of new vehicles sold in the United States were battery electric.256U.S. Share of Electric and Hybrid Vehicle Sales Reached a Record in the Third Quarter, U.S. Energy Info. Admin. (Dec. 4, 2024), https://www.eia.gov/todayinenergy/detail.php?id=63904 [https://perma.cc/K2VT-46SL]. And the United States lags many countries in the developed world in electric vehicle adoption. In Norway, about eighty-nine percent of new vehicles sold in 2024 were electric.257Nerijus Adomaitis, In Norway Nearly All New Cars Sold in 2024 Were Fully Electric, Reuters (Jan. 2, 2025), https://www.reuters.com/business/autos-transportation/norway-nearly-all-new-cars-sold-2024-were-fully-electric-2025-01-02 [https://perma.cc/WL5P-AG83].

The Biden administration prioritized electrification of the vehicle fleet. The Inflation Reduction Act provided tax credits for electric vehicles and charging stations.258See 26 U.S.C. § 30C(a) (allowing credit of the cost of “any qualified alternative fuel vehicle refueling property”); 26 U.S.C. § 30D(a) (allowing credit for “each new clean vehicle placed in service by the taxpayer”). The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency issued a new tailpipe emission rule that would effectively require half the new cars sold in 2032 to be electric (or use an alternative fuel).259See Multi-Pollutant Emissions Standards for Model Years 2027 and Later Light-Duty and Medium-Duty Vehicles, 89 Fed. Reg. 27842 (Apr. 18, 2024) (to be codified at 40 C.F.R. pts. 85, 86, 600, 1036, 1037, 1066, 1068). And the U.S. Department of Transportation has set a fuel economy standard that would require the cars that each automaker sells to average sixty-five miles per

gallon.26049 C.F.R. § 531.5 (2024); see also Corporate Average Fuel Economy Standards for Passenger Cars and Light Trucks for Model Years 2027 and Beyond and Fuel Efficiency Standards for Heavy-Duty Pickup Trucks and Vans for Model Years 2030 and Beyond, 89 Fed. Reg. 52540 (June 24, 2024), (to be codified at 49 C.F.R. pts. 523, 531, 533, 535, 536, 537) (establishing Corporate Average Fuel Economy (CAFE) standards). But see Resetting the Corporate Average Fuel Economy Program, 90 Fed. Reg. 24518, 24521 (June 11, 2025) (to be codified at C.F.R. pts. 531, 533, 535) (concluding that NHTSA had applied factors to determine 2024 standards that were contrary to law); NHTSA Interpretive Rule Asserts Authority to Reset CAFE Standards, Colum. L. Sch. Sabin Ctr. for Climate Change L., https://climate.law.columbia.edu/content/nhtsa-interpretive-rule-asserts-authority-reset-cafe-standards [https://perma.cc/B8PR-UMDN]. Since 2025, The Trump administration or Congress has reversed many of these steps.261Lisa Friedman, Trump Administration Erases the Government’s Power to Fight Climate Change, N.Y. Times (Feb. 12, 2026), https://www.nytimes.com/2026/02/12/climate/trump-epa-greenhouse-gases-climate-change.html [https://perma.cc/363U-A6UV].

Some states have gone further—or at least have tried to.262Camila Domonoske, Upending Norms, the Senate Votes to Undo California’s EV Rules, NPR (May 22, 2025), https://www.npr.org/2025/05/22/nx-s1-5387729/senate-california-ev-air-pollution-waiver-revoked [https://perma.cc/2GSG-F48Y] (reporting on Senate’s vote to overturn waiver allowing California to set stricter air pollution standards for cars). California law requires that all new passenger vehicles sold in the state in or after 2035 be powered by something other than gasoline or diesel.263Cal. Code Regs. tit. 13, § 1962.4 (2025). But see Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief, United States v. California Air Resources Board, No. 2:26-cv-00450 (E.D. Cal. Mar. 12, 2026), https://www.justice.gov/opa/media/1430886/dl?inline [https://perma.cc/8YRK-EHMY] (seeking to block California’s law). For more on this, see, e.g., Dan Farber, Does Federal Law Still Preempt State Standards relating to Fuel Efficiency?, Legal Planet (Mar. 12, 2026), https://legal-planet.org/2026/03/12/does-federal-law-still-preempt-state-standards-relating-to-fuel-efficiency [https://perma.cc/LN3M-T7KR].

The robotaxi business model is well-suited to electric vehicles. Robotaxis are being deployed in dense, urban areas. They are never too far from a charging station. A robotaxi company can monitor when its vehicles need to be recharged, and its routing algorithms can plan its trips accordingly. Robotaxi riders being shuttled around a city don’t suffer “range anxiety” the way that a human driver might on a long-distance trip. Charging does currently require taking a robotaxi out of operation for potentially longer than a stop at a gas station, but this may eventually be addressed with better batteries, faster charging, charging-in-motion, and even battery swapping (which is likely more manageable within a fleet than between private vehicles).

Policymakers should mandate that all robotaxis be electric or alternative-fuel vehicles.264We generally mean electric vehicles, but we recognize that there are potential alternatives such as hydrogen and that EVs may be poorly suited to rural service areas that lack charging or battery-swapping infrastructure. California has already enacted a statute that requires any automated vehicle in model year 2031 or later to be electric.265Cal. Veh. Code § 38750(i)(1) (West 2025). There’s no reason to wait that long. The large U.S. companies that are deploying or developing robotaxis are using electric vehicles today—Waymo’s Jaguar I-Pace, Zeekr minivan, and Hyundai Ioniq; Zoox’s bespoke electric vehicle; and all of Tesla’s models.266See supra notes 78–79 and accompanying text. And none have announced plans to use gasoline-powered vehicles in the future. An electric vehicle mandate for robotaxis would likely not face the opposition that a broader requirement could. And it would have the effect of setting a market floor that others could not subsequently undercut.

An electric vehicle mandate will not eliminate robotaxis’ contribution to air pollution. Increasing demand for electricity can increase emissions if that electricity is generated by burning fossil fuels. Tires, brake pads, and other vehicle parts exposed to heat or friction generate particles that can harm the environment and human health.267See Jim Robbins, Road Hazard: Evidence Mounts on Toxic Pollution from Tires, Yale Env’t 360 (Sep. 19, 2023), https://e360.yale.edu/features/tire-pollution-toxic-chemicals [https://perma.cc/B8FP-UF99]. Supply chains for vehicles and data centers for automated driving also have significant environmental impacts. But here mode-neutral environmental regulation is likely the best solution.

C. Wear-and-Tear

Motor vehicles also cause wear-and-tear on the roads. State and federal governments address this externality by charging excise taxes on gasoline.268See How Much Tax Do We Pay on a Gallon of Gasoline and on a Gallon of Diesel Fuel?, U.S. Energy Info. Admin. (Aug. 21, 2024), https://www.eia.gov/tools/faqs/faq.php?id=10&t=5 [https://perma.cc/4NUR-F5L4] (noting federal excise taxes on gasoline of 18.4 cents per gallon and average state excise taxes on gasoline of 32.61 cents per gallon). The federal excise tax rate is codified at 26 U.S.C. § 4041(a)(3)(A). Revenue from gas taxes can—and in some states, must—be spent on transportation infrastructure.269The federal gas tax contributes to the Highway Trust Fund, which funds both highways and mass transit. See Congressional Budget Office, The Status of the Highway Trust Fund: 2023 Update 1 (2023). State gas taxes are often used to cover roadway expenses. See Adam Hoffer & Jacob Macumber-Rosin, Gas Taxes by State, 2024, Tax Found. (Aug. 6, 2024), https://taxfoundation.org/data/all/state/state-gas-tax-rates-2024 [https://perma.cc/759R-RMTE] (describing use of gas taxes to fund road construction and maintenance). The rationale for a gas tax is that gas consumption roughly tracks miles driven, so the tax functions as a user fee.

As motor vehicles have become more fuel-efficient and as electric vehicles have increased in popularity, though, the connection between the gas tax and VMT is becoming attenuated. To make matters worse, the federal gas tax and some state gas taxes are not indexed to inflation.270Janelle Fritts, Gas Taxes by State, 2021, Tax Found. (July 28, 2021), https://taxfoundation.org/data/all/state/state-gas-tax-rates-2021 [https://perma.cc/2UF3-VFC3]; see also Theodore J. Kury, The Gas Tax’s Tortured History Shows How Hard It Is to Fund New Infrastructure, PBS (June 22, 2021), https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/the-gas-taxs-tortured-history-shows-how-hard-it-is-to-fund-new-infrastructure [https://perma.cc/NWS2-L5M7] (noting efforts to index gas tax to inflation). Although the gas tax today still generates revenue with the salutary effect of promoting electric vehicles, at some point it will be necessary to find other ways to finance surface transportation.

The simplest alternative to a gas tax is a VMT tax—a per mile charge to use the public roads. Four states are already implementing VMT taxes for electric vehicles.271Jacob Macumber-Rosin & Adam Hoffer, Vehicle Miles Travelled Taxes Rollout Across States, Tax Found. (May 9, 2024), https://taxfoundation.org/blog/state-vmt-vehicle-miles-traveled-taxes [https://perma.cc/JU2F-XN7U] (noting programs in Hawaii, Oregon, Utah, and Virginia). These states offer electric vehicle owners the choice of paying a fixed annual fee or paying a VMT tax capped at the level of the annual fee.272Id. Hawaii plans to take away the choice and require all electric vehicle owners to pay its VMT tax in 2028.273Id.

A shift to electric vehicles may increase wear-and-tear on the roads because batteries make electric vehicles heavier than similar internal combustion engine vehicles.274Blake Shaffer, Maximilian Auffhammer & Constantine Samaras, Make Electric Vehicles Lighter to Maximize Climate and Safety Benefits, Nature Comment (Oct. 12, 2021), https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-021-02760-8 [https://perma.cc/G8FW-W59F]. In a world where all motor vehicles were electric and an upstream carbon tax addressed the broader environmental burden of energy production, a weight-adjusted VMT tax might be the optimal solution. Short of that, tweaking traditional fuel taxes by properly indexing them to inflation, adjusting them for fleetwide fuel efficiency, and using them to provide a floor for the price of fuel could address wear-and-tear while capturing some of the larger externalities of internal combustion engines.

D. Congestion

Congestion is an externality that all motor vehicles can create. But robotaxis may exacerbate congestion by satisfying latent travel demand or creating new travel demand.275See Walker Smith, supra note 5, at 1405–08 (discussing induced demand). Riders might find travel in a robotaxi less costly. The cost reduction could be financial: a robotaxi company might charge fewer cents per mile than a traditional TNC would. It could be about opportunity cost: a passenger in an automated vehicle might be able to sleep or do work that a driver could (and should) not. Or it could be psychological: riding may be less stressful than driving, especially during congested periods. The cost reduction might also encourage people to make different

decisions about where they live or work. In each case, the benefits could lead people to take more trips and longer trips.

How much congestion robotaxis create will depend not only on how many people take rides and how long those trips take, but also how efficient the networks are. As we mentioned in Part I, Waymo’s robotaxis in San Francisco are deadheading over 40% of the time.276See Campbell, supra note 109. The robotaxi companies’ private incentives to reduce deadheading don’t capture all the social costs of congestion, so regulation can and should supplement that incentive. But it is important to remember that personal cars have their own form of deadheading: the miles they drive while cruising in search of parking.

Some U.S. cities have VMT taxes that apply only to certain modes, which function in some ways like a congestion tax. As we mentioned in Part I, the California legislature gave the City of San Francisco the authority to tax TNCs and robotaxis.277See Cal. Pub. Util. Code § 5446. In 2019, San Francisco voters approved a tax, now called the Traffic Congestion Mitigation Tax, at the ballot box.278Traffic Congestion Mitigation Tax, City & Cnty. S.F. Treasurer & Tax Collector, https://sftreasurer.org/business/taxes-fees/traffic-congestion-mitigation-tax-tcm [https://perma.cc/5ZZL-RCZV] (last visited Sep. 26, 2025). Riders in a gasoline vehicle who request to ride solo are taxed up to 3.25%.279Id. Riders in an electric vehicle and riders who request to share their ride are taxed 1.5%.280Id. In some respects, the tax is well-designed. The tax is a fixed percentage of the fare, so it should scale with VMT and travel demand. But because it only applies to TNCs and robotaxis, it distorts the market in favor of personal motor vehicles.

We are less sure of the politics of more ambitious visions of VMT taxation in which continuous monitoring facilitates dynamic—that is, demand-variable—pricing. As a general matter, Americans seem skeptical of devices that are attached to their cars for the purpose of updating “the government” on their travel. This is understandable.

Instead, we favor a mix of mechanisms that, in combination, generate revenue above an excise tax on gas or carbon, serve as a proxy for the use of valuable road space, and accordingly help to manage travel demand. These include congestion prices in urban centers, other forms of variable tolling on major roadways and bottlenecks, and market-rate parking rates. As famous photos comparing the road space used by people on foot, in a bus, on bikes,

and in cars suggest,281See, e.g., Jarrett Walker, The Photo That Explains Almost Everything, Human Transit (Sep. 21, 2012), https://humantransit.org/2012/09/the-photo-that-explains-almost-everything.html [https://perma.cc/KT4E-NBDY]. the key is to charge for road space in a way that optimizes that use.282Brad Templeton gave us the interesting suggestion of road-square-foot-per-second fee, though as with a demand-variable VMT tax, we doubt its political viability. See also Jack Hayes, Road Reservation Proposal2, YouTube (June 20, 2023), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8vF6r0-XpM [https://perma.cc/72D4-969D].

Congestion pricing has been implemented in London, Milan, Singapore, and Stockholm.283Erica Veitch & Ekaterina Rhodes, A Cross-Country Comparative Analysis of Congestion Pricing Systems: Lessons for Decarbonizing Transportation, in Case Studs. on Transp. Pol’y 1, 6, 21 (2024). In January 2025, after much drama, New York City implemented the first general purpose congestion tax in the United States.284Winnie Hu & Ana Ley, New York City Welcomes Congestion Pricing with Fanfare and Complaints, N.Y. Times (Mar. 5, 2025), https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/05/nyregion/nyc-congestion-pricing-tolls.html [https://perma.cc/RAU9-G2RM]. The initial results are promising. Travel times on the bridges and tunnels leading to lower Manhattan have fallen.285Ana Ley, Winnie Hu & Keith Collins, Less Traffic, Faster Buses: Congestion Pricing’s First Week, N.Y. Times (Jan. 13, 2025). https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/13/nyregion/congestion-pricing-nyc.html [https://perma.cc/ZW8G-PHLF]. But it is too early to predict the long-term equilibrium.

An important point here is that there is no definitive solution to congestion: like popular restaurants, popular places and routes at popular times will be crowded. But there are still important policy choices about what that crowd looks like—and who can get through. If single- or zero-occupancy motor vehicles are queued, can people in communal and active modes still move? Do emergency vehicles have a path? If automated driving increases both demand and capacity, the result could be even more vehicles but no greater mobility.286See Walker Smith, supra note 5, at 1420. Given this, it is essential to start answering these questions before automated vehicles start eclipsing conventional vehicles.

E. Privacy

Loss of privacy is a hidden externality—and one with which automated driving has a complicated relationship.287On privacy generally, see, e.g., Airbnb, Inc. v. City of New York, 373 F. Supp. 3d 467 (S.D.N.Y. 2019); Rory Van Loo, Privacy Pretexts, 108 Cornell L. Rev. 1, 33 et seq. (2022); Ira S. Rubinstein & Bilyana Petkova, Governing Privacy in the Datafied City, 47 Fordham Urb. L.J. 755, 805 (2020); Aziz Z. Huq, The Public Trust in Data, 110 Georgetown L.J. 333 (2021); Andrew Guthrie Ferguson, Digital Rummaging, 101 Wash. U. L. Rev. 1473 (2024). We see privacy as playing a nuanced but ultimately important role in advancing the important societal values of freedom and community. Safety can preserve a person’s privacy.288Serious roadway crashes deprive their victims of privacy in many ways, in both the short-term and the long-term. Surveillance can impede a person’s ability to act on their own and to form relationships with others.

An ADS aims to generate a three-dimensional, 360-degree view of its surroundings.289Waymo, supra note 36, at 14 (“To meet the complex demands of autonomous driving, Waymo has developed an array of sensors that allow our vehicle to see 360° degrees, both in daytime and at night, and up to nearly three football fields away. This multi-layered sensor suite works together seamlessly to paint a detailed 3D picture of the world, showing dynamic and static objects including pedestrians, cyclists, other vehicles, traffic lights, construction cones, and other road features.”). That is why automated vehicles are outfitted with a suite of sensors. Those sensors are constantly receiving data about the objects in the vehicle’s vicinity. As a consequence, any person who passes within the range of the sensors will likely (and indeed should) be perceived by these sensors.

A high-fidelity perception system is critical to ADS safety. An ADS can choose a safe path only if it knows where people, animals, and objects are moving in real time. Indeed, one of the ways that ADSs might improve on human drivers is by detecting and tracking objects that a driver might miss.290Wansley, The End of Accidents, supra note 20, at 271–72. If stored, ADS perception data are also valuable for crash investigations, though more data does not necessarily mean more certainty. In addition, insights from these data might be useful to important research that has little to do with automated driving.

It might seem as though the privacy interests affected are insignificant. ADS sensors will only pick up what can be seen from a public roadway. Many of these places will also be surveilled by business or home monitoring systems. In a conventional sense, there is little reasonable expectation of privacy on a sidewalk or a front porch.291Though we don’t want to overstate this. See Matthew Guariglia & Lisa Femia, You Really Do Have Some Expectation of Privacy in Public, Electronic Fronter Foundation (Sept. 6, 2024), https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/09/you-really-do-have-some-expectation-privacy-public [https://perma.cc/RET5-FLWC].

But we think the privacy risks are substantial. If automated driving succeeds commercially—and here we are talking not only about robotaxis—then surveillance will become pervasive.292See Walker Smith et al., supra note 12, at 7; David Sella-Villa & Michael Hodgson, Privacy in the Age of Active Sensors, 92 UKMC L. Rev. 1, 4 (2023). Automated vehicles will frequently pass by your home, your workplace, and every third place you visit. Their powerful sensors in combination with onboard and offboard computing power will add considerably to existing and growing surveillance by private and public actors.

Automated driving companies might also, among others, quietly become agents of law enforcement.293See Walker Smith et al., supra note 12, at 22. Increased monitoring could have real benefits for deterring crime or apprehending suspects. But if a city councilor proposed to have the police department build a system of pervasive surveillance, at a minimum we would have a debate about whether the public safety benefits outweighed the privacy harms.294Hopefully. See Mike Katz-Lacabe, Anaheim Police Buy a $755,000 Nyxcell Cell Site Simulator, Ctr. for Hum. Rts. & Priv., https://www.cehrp.org/issues/cell-site-simulator [https://perma.cc/C6HB-T2D2]; Jessica Glenza & Nicky Woolf, Stingray Spying: FBI’s Secret Deal with Police Hides Phone Dragnet from Courts, Guardian (Apr. 10, 2015), https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/apr/10/stingray-spying-fbi-phone-dragnet-police [https://perma.cc/2DXJ-8SM4]; Kate Martin, Documents: Tacoma Police Using Surveillance Device to Sweep up Cellphone Data, News Trib. (Feb. 25, 2016), https://www.thenewstribune.com/news/local/article25878184.html [https://perma.cc/V9BR-ULSA]. The deployment of robotaxis might bring about the same privacy loss without any public debate. Courts have already issued warrants to robotaxi companies for sensor data.295Julia Love, Police Are Requesting Self-Driving Car Footage for Video Evidence, Bloomberg (June 29, 2023), https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-06-29/self-driving-car-video-from-waymo-cruise-give-police-crime-evidence [https://perma.cc/6R42-9DGD]. And police may not always need to get a warrant. After a deliberate explosion in a Cybertruck in Las Vegas, for example, Tesla quickly made information from that vehicle and from its network available to law enforcement.296Trisha Thadani & Shannon Najmabadi, Elon Musk Offers Personal Aid in Las Vegas Cybertruck Explosion Probe, Wash. Post (Jan. 3, 2025), https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2025/01/03/elon-musk-telsa-cybertruck-explosion-data [https://web.archive.org/web/20250103154432/https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2025/01/03/elon-musk-telsa-cybertruck-explosion-data].

Waymo and its erstwhile rival Cruise both disclosed that they have provided ADS video data to the police. Waymo claimed that it generally only shares data under a warrant or court order.297Love, supra note 295; see also Hit the Road, Mac: The Future of Self-Driving Cars, Hearing Before S. Comm. on Com., Sci., and Transp., 119th Cong. 2 (2026), https://www.commerce.senate.gov/2026/2/hit-the-road-mac-the-future-of-self-driving-cars [https://perma.cc/S63G-ZB82], 1:04:53–1:06:40 (testimony of Waymo and Tesla Representatives). The company has stated that, if the police make a request that is overbroad, “we try to narrow it, and in some cases we object to producing any information at all.”298Love, supra note 295. Cruise likewise stated that it “disclose[s] relevant data only in response to legal processes or exigent circumstances, where we can help a person who is in imminent danger.”299Id. Both of these statements are carefully hedged, and they have not been independently verified beyond some open records requests. These dynamics evoke past (and indeed current) debates about the relationship between telecommunications companies and federal investigators.

Companies have strong incentives to stay in the good graces of law enforcement because policing requires discretion. Every time an automated vehicle is involved in a crash or at least arguably violates a traffic law is an opportunity for the police to use their discretion to benefit the automated driving company. So companies may decide to curry favor with police by voluntarily sharing videos and other data that will be useful for their investigations.

So how can regulation reduce privacy risks while not inhibiting the development and deployment of safe automated vehicles?

We would prefer to see these risks addressed as part of a much broader privacy framework. These challenges are not limited to robotaxis or automated vehicles more generally or advanced motor vehicles even more generally. They also exist for aerial drones, sidewalk robots, smartphones, doorbell cameras, a wide range of other consumer-facing connected devices, and an even wider range of more obscure applications.300For example, consider license plate readers.

In the absence of such an approach, policymakers should use their existing authority to scrutinize the data practices of companies within that authority. Unfortunately, this is likely to result in different rules for similar actors. If, for example, an agency has authority over robotaxis but not automated driving companies more generally, then rules for robotaxis might look different than rules for automated driving more generally. But these discrepancies might be useful in experimenting and ultimately incentivizing efforts to harmonize.

What might this scrutiny look like? It could focus on an admittedly nebulous category of “privacy-sensitive data” that could reveal personally identifiable information. And it could specify processes by which companies may seek to use those data for purposes other than operating and improving their automated vehicles—including sharing those data with affiliated companies (like Google or Amazon) or with law enforcement.

To be sure, these rules will impose a compliance burden. Affected companies will need to keep track of who has access to privacy-sensitive ADS data and monitor them. And like many privacy regulations that apply to a company’s internal operations, these rules will not be easy to enforce. Regulators may need to rely on whistleblowers. But if we do not take action to protect privacy before automated vehicles are widely deployed, we may be sleepwalking into a regime of pervasive surveillance.

III.  Protecting Riders

The easiest way to protect riders is to give them choices—provided that those choices are not skewed. Competition can force firms to lower fares, improve service, and invest in innovation. Today, robotaxis are providing healthy intermodal competition by offering an alternative to TNCs, taxis, and personal cars. But there might not be much intramodal competition among robotaxi companies. As we explained in Part I, robotaxis create economies of scale and network effects that favor concentration. In many U.S. cities today, the TNC market is an Uber-Lyft duopoly.301Kaczmarski, supra note 19. The robotaxi market could easily become a Waymo monopoly. And if robotaxis start to replace other modes, a robotaxi monopoly could be more dangerous.

To be sure, market concentration is a possibility but not a certainty. Robotaxis may involve a variety of technologies and business cases. As technologies improve and their costs decline, automated vehicles or even ADSs that can be added to existing vehicles may become surprisingly cheap to make, buy, and even operate. This seems especially likely if the ADSs of the future are less reliant on numerous sensors, highly detailed maps, and remote human assistants. Some may even be open source. This could create competition among vehicle owners, among providers of automated driving services, and among automated travel modes. Concentrations, if they exist at all, might turn up in surprising places. If would-be passengers can simply rely on their own personal AI agent to automatically find—and even negotiate for—a ride, then public-facing platforms such as Uber or Amazon may lose some of their brand and market power.

But we think the risk of market concentration is real enough that it is worth anticipating. So in this Part, we recommend a two-step approach to rider protection. First, policymakers should put a thumb on the scale for new competitors. Second, they should take steps now to preserve rider autonomy in a concentrated market.302Early steps can have significant effects later. See Bryant Walker Smith, Address at the Fourth International Conference on the Future Rule of Law and Digital Law 2 (Dec. 16, 2023), https://newlypossible.org/files/presentations/2023-12-16_AcademicVisionforAI.pdf [https://perma.cc/6WSV-5K64] (“Today’s insights and interventions could have profound effects tomorrow—akin to nudging an asteroid while it is still billions of miles from Earth.”). We hope that preventing monopoly abuse or neglect long before a monopoly arises will not just protect riders—it will give them the peace of mind to use robotaxis instead of personal motor vehicles.

A. Promoting Competition

How can robotaxi regulators promote competition and encourage innovation among robotaxi companies? We argue that they should permit open entry, ban contracts that lock in riders, and enable one-stop access to competing networks. But before we turn to these proposals, we want to emphasize a subtle reason why competition is especially important in the robotaxi market: it may create redundancy that will prove valuable for safety.

  1. Competition and Safety

The development of a safe ADS would create tremendous social value. In 2023, there were 40,901 people killed in motor vehicle crashes in the United States and approximately 2.4 million people injured.303Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., Traffic Safety Facts 2023: A Compilation of Motor Vehicle Traffic Crash Data 100 (2025), https://crashstats.nhtsa.dot.gov/Api/Public/ViewPublication/813738 [https://perma.cc/EP62-A5AY]. NHTSA estimates that the annual social cost of crashes—including both the direct economic costs and the implied costs of death and injuries using the value of a statistical life—is about $1.37 trillion.304Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., The Economic and Societal Impact of Motor Vehicle Crashes, 2019 1 (2023), https://crashstats.nhtsa.dot.gov/Api/Public/ViewPublication/813403 (estimating that “total value of societal harm” of traffic crashes in 2019 was $1.37 trillion) [https://web.archive.org/web/20231118005255/https://crashstats.nhtsa.dot.gov/Api/Public/ViewPublication/813403]. Therefore, an ADS only needs to modestly improve on the safety performance of human drivers to be worth tens of billions in social benefits each year. If automated driving can achieve the safety gains that its developers are hoping for, the tens of billions of dollars of capital that have been invested to date may be below the socially optimal level.

If more companies invest in developing an ADS, more ideas will be pursued. Any particular corporate research lab is limited by the idiosyncrasies of its leadership and the path dependence of its development approach. But as long as competing labs exist, engineers who cannot get their managers to greenlight their ideas can take them elsewhere. And the more ideas that get pursued, the greater likelihood that they will make a real difference for safety—individually or in combination.

There is a special reason to care about independent development in this context. In safety engineering, redundancy is a virtue. Many safety-critical systems, like commercial airplanes, are designed to be redundant.305Or at least they are supposed to be. See Mike Baker & Dominic Gates, Lack of Redundancies on Boeing 737 MAX System Baffles Some Involved in Developing the Jet, Seattle Times (Mar. 27, 2019), https://www.seattletimes.com/business/boeing-aerospace/a-lack-of-redundancies-on-737-max-system-has-baffled-even-those-who-worked-on-the-jet [https://web.archive.org/web/20250719013552/https://www.seattletimes.com/business/boeing-aerospace/a-lack-of-redundancies-on-737-max-system-has-baffled-even-those-who-worked-on-the-jet]. If one subsystem fails, a backup system not vulnerable to the same failure mode can step in. This may be why some companies are developing ADSs that combine modular and pure end-to-end approaches.306See Lee, supra note 42. It is possible that an even more robust system could be developed by combining two systems developed by independent companies into one redundant system—if competition is not cut off prematurely.

Similarly, different companies might develop different—and ultimately complementary—approaches not only to design but also to safety validation and verification. Multiple approaches to simulation, for example, could help to increase both the accuracy of and confidence in methods for demonstrating and monitoring the safety of automated vehicles.

We recognize the irony in advocating for competition on the ground that it could produce an outcome where two competitors eventually merge their technologies. But that is largely the path that the aviation industry followed—a period of competition on safety followed by cooperation on safety. And even if robotaxi companies ultimately converge on ADS design, they can still compete on service quality, wait times, and price.

Competition in the robotaxi industry may also improve the transportation system’s resilience to cyberattack. If one robotaxi company’s system is hacked and has to ground its fleet, a competitor could serve the riders who might otherwise have been stranded. If competing robotaxi companies use different cybersecurity strategies, it may be more difficult for hackers to disrupt them both simultaneously.

  1. Open Entry

Now we turn to our proposals for promoting competition—starting with open entry. The term “open entry” has three meanings in this context. It means that any company can enter the market. It means that any company can deploy as many vehicles as it chooses. And it means that companies can, through APIs and common data specifications, market the services of their competitors.307See, e.g., The Act on Transport Services–Mobility Is a Service, Future Mobility Fin. (June 2, 2020), https://futuremobilityfinland.fi/cases/the-act-on-transport-services-mobility-is-a-service [https://web.archive.org/web/20250829104854/https://futuremobilityfinland.fi/cases/the-act-on-transport-services-mobility-is-a-service]; Mobility Data Specification, L.A. Dep’t of Transp. (Oct. 31, 2018), https://ladot.lacity.gov/sites/default/files/documents/what-is-mds-cities.pdf [https://web.archive.org/web/20250504185342/https://ladot.lacity.gov/sites/default/files/documents/what-is-mds-cities.pdf].

All three senses of open entry are relevant to competition. As we have seen, the robotaxi business model relies on economies of scale. Robotaxi companies will need to deploy large fleets in many cities to overcome the fixed costs of developing an ADS. A company raising capital to challenge Waymo needs to be able to reassure its investors that it will be permitted to fight for the whole market and try to grow it. Restricting entry could entrench a Waymo monopoly and reduce socially valuable safety innovation.

Open entry in service regulation is compatible with pre-deployment scrutiny in safety regulation. California illustrates this possibility. As we explained in Part I, the California DMV requires companies testing or deploying automated vehicles to apply for permits.308See Cal. Code Regs. tit. 13, §§ 227.04, 227.38, 228.06 (2025). When a company applies for a deployment permit, the DMV can consider whether the applicant’s track record during testing in California or testing or deployment elsewhere supports deployment in California. The CPUC then conditions entry to the robotaxi market on the DMV issuing a deployment permit.309See CPUC Deployment Order, supra note 233, at 17 (requiring applicants to “possess a ‘Permit to Deploy Autonomous Vehicles on Public Streets’ from the DMV”). The combination of pre-deployment safety scrutiny and otherwise open entry protects the public without reducing competition from responsible entrants.

Open entry will create externalities—more pollution, wear-and-tear, congestion, and surveillance. It could also enable an entrenched competitor to flood a market as a defensive mechanism. But restricting entry is an overly crude tool to curb them. The proposals we provided in Part II are more targeted means to regulate externalities.

Open entry also does not mean tying the hands of government when it acts as a market participant rather than a regulator. Transit operators, for example, should be able to exclusively partner with robotaxi companies to extend the reach of their networks. In fact, Waymo has already announced plans to operate a transit service for Chandler, Arizona.310See Lauren De Young, Chandler Is 1st U.S. City to Launch Cheap Waymo Public Transit Rides, AZ Cent. (Sep. 23, 2025), https://www.azcentral.com/story/news/local/chandler/2025/09/23/chandler-waymo-first-u-s-robotic-transit-service/86298041007 [https://perma.cc/2Z77-UMJ2]. And certain roadways owned by government agencies—such as airport access roads—might merit special rules. San Francisco is experimenting with a pilot program that allows Waymo robotaxis to use an otherwise car-free stretch of Market Street.311See Press Release, Daniel Lurie, Mayor, San Francisco, Mayor Lurie Announces Next Phase of Waymo Operations on Market Street to Drive Downtown’s Comeback with New Transportation Options Coming to Market Street August 26 (Aug. 21, 2025) https://www.sf.gov/news-mayor-lurie-announces-next-phase-of-waymo-operations-on-market-street-to-drive-downtowns-comeback-with-new-transportation-options-coming-to-market-street-august-26 [https://perma.cc/C2Y3-5EX8].

  1. Lock-in Contracts

Policymakers should also prevent robotaxi incumbents from locking in riders. A new entrant will likely need to heavily subsidize their rides until they can get enough riders on the network to bring deadheading down to a tolerable level. This is part of why Uber and Lyft burned through billions while they were building up their networks.312See Wyman, supra note 18, at 15. But they sustained those subsidies for years after they built up their networks. See Wansley & Weinstein, supra note 208, at 818. On the other hand, this is also how cell companies initially funded their expensive networks—and yet pay-as-you-go plans are now thriving.

A robotaxi monopolist could entrench its position by offering its service as a subscription contract. Waymo is already offering subscriptions for teenage riders.313See Waymo Teen Accounts Offer Peace of Mind for Phoenix Families, Waymo (July 8, 2025), https://waymo.com/blog/2025/07/waymo-teen-accounts [https://perma.cc/CAE9-T6YQ]. Subscriptions would make it hard for a new entrant to get riders to switch networks. Even if the new entrant offered a better service or a lower fare, subscribers would have no reason to consider switching until it came time to renew their subscriptions. So, the new entrant would need more time and money to build up network effects.

Consider how competition would play out if an incumbent monopolist had a more extensive ODD than a new entrant. If riders buy individual rides rather than a subscription, the new entrant has a fighting chance. It could gain a foothold in the market by serving some smaller segment of travel demand. Riders could choose the new entrant for individual trips in its limited service area and the incumbent for individual trips to places the new entrant doesn’t serve. If, however, riders buy one subscription to serve all of their travel needs, a new entrant cannot compete until it can serve a comparably extensive area.

There is nothing inherently anticompetitive about subscription contracts. They can help businesses and riders plan their budgets more easily and hedge against risk that demand or fares will change. And—as we discuss more below—people might be more willing to give up their personal motor vehicles if they knew the price would be predictable.314The peace of mind that riders get from subscriptions can be inefficient. Riders who pay a fixed, upfront cost for a subscription don’t internalize the costs of taking an additional trip. But the combination of incumbents with market power, network effects, new entrants with limited ability to serve the whole market, and rider lock-in could create a formidable barrier to entry.

So, here is our proposal: instead of banning subscription contracts, policymakers can simply require that riders be allowed to cancel their subscriptions and receive a pro rata refund at any time. That approach would allow riders to gain greater certainty about fares while making it easier for new entrants to get them to switch. The competitors would not have to buy riders out of their existing contracts. A light thumb on the scale for new entrants would make it harder to maintain a monopoly.

  1. One-Stop Access to Competing Networks

Policymakers, transit agencies, and even some companies have long recognized the potential for the integrated provision of what is often called “mobility as a service” (“MaaS”). To find the best—or the cheapest—way to get from one point to another, a traveler should not need to consult and compare multiple apps or engage in multiple transactions.

Public transit agencies have long recognized the value of a single rider interface (even if their implementation has been limited). To cite just two examples of many, New York’s Omny cards and London’s Oyster cards each work on a set of transit services that have a variety of operators. And both the New York Metropolitan Transportation Authority and Transport for London provide API access to their real-time transit data to allow independent developers to create apps and other tools for riders.315Developer Resources, MTA, https://www.mta.info/developers [https://perma.cc/GV9R-GW86]; Transport for London Unified API, Transport for London, https://api.tfl.gov.uk [https://perma.cc/YPR9-ZB3B].

Others have an even broader vision for transport data. The Mobility Data Specification developed by the City of Los Angeles offers a “common language” for transport data.316LADOT, Mobility Data Specification (2018), https://ladot.lacity.gov/sites/default/files/documents/what-is-mds-cities.pdf [https://perma.cc/6SRF-XFUA]; Open Mobility Found., Mobility Data Specification, https://github.com/openmobilityfoundation/mobility-data-specification (last updated June 4, 2025) [https://perma.cc/SH6P-ADJE]. GTFS and GTBS offer similar common frameworks for transit and bikeshare, respectively.317Gen. Transit Feed Specification, https://gtfs.org [https://perma.cc/R3K4-TVAE]; Gen. Bikeshare Feed Specification, https://gbfs.org [https://perma.cc/7QZ8-LL92]. Finland mandates that both public and private providers of transportation and parking services facilitate third-party access to their schedules and prices.318Act on Transport Services 320/2017 (Fin.), https://www.traficom.fi/en/regulations/act-transport-services [https://perma.cc/BN64-63HJ]. The “multimodal digital mobility services” regulation originally envisioned—though now largely abandoned—by the European Commission would have expanded aspects of Finland’s approach to the entire European Union.319European Parliament Legislative Train Schedule JD 23-24, Legislative Proposal on Multimodal Digital Mobility Services–Q4 2022, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/legislative-train/spotlight-JD%2023-24/file-multimodal-digital-mobility-services [https://perma.cc/N255-VVFP]; Back-on-Track Europe, Single Ticketing: A Broken Promise?, https://back-on-track.eu/a-broken-promise-is-a-very-bad-start (Feb. 13, 2025) [https://perma.cc/6XAG-34N4].

Many internet platform companies show offers from different providers for identical, equivalent, or comparable products and services—think Google Shopping or Amazon’s third-party sellers or, in the case of transportation, Rome2Rio and (in China) Baidu Maps.

As we noted earlier, AI agents could obviate the need for or power of some of these platforms; users could simply direct their personalized agents to find and book whatever ride suits them the best. But integrated apps, backend platforms, public APIs, and common data standards could still increase the effectiveness of—and reduce the transactions costs for—these searches.

Regulators can build on this important MaaS foundation by enabling one-stop access to competing networks of vehicular rides of all kinds. Smaller providers should have the option but not the obligation to offer their services through third-party platforms. In contrast, it may be prudent to require dominant providers to facilitate this kind of third-party access.

B. Preserving Autonomy

Even if policymakers permit open entry, limit lock-in, and enable one-stop access to competing networks, the robotaxi market may still be highly concentrated. Even with integration, the economies of scale may still tilt the market against competition. So, policymakers need to prepare for a world where one company dominates the robotaxi market. The benefits of preventing monopoly abuse are twofold. First, it protects riders should a monopoly arise. Second, it might provide people the peace of mind they need to give up their personal motor vehicles and switch to robotaxis today.

The appeal of personal motor vehicle ownership is autonomy. If you have the keys to the car in your driveway, you can at least in theory travel where you want and when you want at a price that you can anticipate. For many Americans, it is difficult to imagine living without access to their own car or truck. Yet in New York and other transit-rich cities around the world, many residents with the means to buy a personal motor vehicle choose not to own one. They have confidence that the transportation system will give them at least as much autonomy as a personal motor vehicle.

Suppose you were a New Yorker whose Texan friend was about to move to Manhattan. She has always lived in a household with a personal motor vehicle. How could you persuade her that she doesn’t need a car in her new city? You could say that the subway will take her almost everywhere she would want to go in the city, that it runs twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, that the fare is always $3.00, and that the wait for a train is usually not long. You could say all this with confidence in part because the subway is run, and its fares and service are set, by a public agency.

This is the kind of argument that cities and robotaxi developers will need to make. Residents will need to be confident that robotaxis will take them almost everywhere they would want to go in the region, that they run twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, that the fare is low and varies predictably with demand, and that the wait for a ride is usually not long.

But the critical difference is that robotaxis will not necessarily be run by a government. If they are profitable, then they will attract corporations—or even just one monopolist—aiming to maximize profits. How could these companies be trusted not to take advantage of riders?

One solution to this problem is to bring robotaxis under public ownership. Another solution is to regulate robotaxi companies as utilities. Either solution would provide reassurance about service coverage, fares, and wait times. But they would do so at the cost of reducing competition and innovation.

We think it is possible for regulation to protect the public from monopoly abuse while still promoting competition. We propose transparent and rider-neutral fares and proactive planning for emergencies and other contingencies.

  1. Transparent and Rider-Neutral Fares

In a competitive market, robotaxi companies will be price takers. They will charge the fare that other robotaxi companies are charging or lose market share. But in a concentrated market, robotaxi companies may engage in price discrimination. They may offer each rider an individually tailored fare just below their willingness-to-pay, so they can extract more surplus from riders who are willing to pay higher fares. And robotaxi companies may be able to make informed predictions about what each rider would be willing to pay based on data about their past choices or the choices of similarly situated riders.

This is what has happened in the TNC market. Uber’s increasing profitability has been fueled by increasing algorithmic price discrimination—sometimes called “personalized” or “surveillance” pricing.320See Len Sherman, How Uber Became a Cash-Generating Machine, Medium (June 23, 2025), https://len-sherman.medium.com/how-uber-became-a-cash-generating-machine-ef78e7a97230 [https://perma.cc/ZD64-RNFB].

Price discrimination is not necessarily undesirable. In fact, if consumers are perfectly informed and perfectly rational, it can be economically beneficial.321See Oren Bar-Gill, Cass R. Sunstein & Inbal Talgam-Cohen, Algorithmic Harm in Consumer Markets, 15 J. Legal Analysis 1, 1 (2023). A company that tailors its prices to individual customers will serve more customers than a company that charges every customer the same price. In economic terms, the price discriminating company expands output. These gains, though, come with complicated distributive effects.322Id. Price discrimination transfers surplus from consumers to producers (and their shareholders), which can be a regressive transfer of wealth. But if low-income riders are more price-sensitive than high-income riders, price discrimination might benefit them by providing them with an individually-tailored fare that is lower than an untailored fare might be. From a social welfare perspective, it is hard to know whether the costs of price discrimination outweigh the benefits.

In general, the law does not ban price discrimination. Companies are free to tailor their prices, and customers can accept or reject them. But there’s always been one important exception to the general tolerance of price discrimination: the monopolization of a necessary good or service. The classic example is from the transportation industry: railroads.323Morgan Ricks, Ganesh Sitaraman, Shelley Welton & Lev Menand, Networks, Platforms & Utilities 15–16 (2022). Suppose that a farmer needs to transport perishable crops to market and that the only feasible means to transport them is a railroad controlled by one company. If the railroad knows this and can discriminate on price, it will extract almost all the value of the crop, even if it results in the farmer suffering a net loss. In the moment, the farmer will still take the deal because the losses would otherwise be greater. But a farmer who anticipates the temporary monopoly trap will not grow the crop in the first place.

Now come back to robotaxis. A robotaxi company’s pricing algorithms may be able to infer which riders have given up their personal motor vehicles. A rider with access to a personal motor vehicle will have a relatively elastic demand for robotaxi rides. When the fare rises too high, they will drive instead. A rider without access to a personal motor vehicle will have an inelastic demand. When the fare rises, they will grudgingly pay it. An individual rider’s behavior—how often they see a fare and decide not to request a ride—will indicate whether they have alternative means of travel. And a robotaxi company with market power will charge the riders with no alternatives a higher fare. Riders who anticipate this trap will not want to give up their personal motor vehicle.

Common carrier regulation responds to the problem of temporary monopolization. As we saw in Part I, taxi regulation combined universal service, fare regulation, and restricted entry.324Wyman, supra note 18, at 31–32. The idea behind universal service was that every rider should receive the same service for the same per mile fare. Transportation companies could not engage in price discrimination. The problem with common carrier regulation, however, was that companies could not compete by offering lower fares. So they had little incentive to cut costs or innovate.

Policymakers should protect riders by requiring robotaxi companies to have transparent and rider-neutral fares. By “transparent fares,” we mean that robotaxi companies must submit the fare they charge for each ride to a public regulator. In California, the CPUC is already requiring robotaxi companies to submit basic information about each ride request and each ride, including the origin and destination points, the VMT during the ride, and the deadheading VMT before the ride.325CPUC Deployment Order, supra note 233, at 105–06. We would have companies submit one more data point: the fare charged.

By “rider-neutral fares,” we mean that robotaxi companies may not use data about an individual rider’s past choices in setting fares. They must charge the same fare to every rider requesting a ride from the same origin to the same destination under the same demand conditions. A company’s pricing algorithms may include the distance to be traveled and the expected deadheading miles to be traveled as a result of providing the ride. But pricing algorithms should not include information about the individual rider’s willingness to pay or any information that could be used as a proxy for the individual rider’s willingness to pay.

Transparent and rider-neutral fares would prevent robotaxi companies from engaging in price discrimination. A rider who gave up their personal motor vehicle would pay the same fare as a rider who kept theirs. And regulators would be able to track compliance easily. They could analyze the fare data to verify that rides with similar origin and destination points at similar times had similar fares. Rider-neutral fares would not mean that every rider pays the same per mile fare. Fares could still vary with travel demand, so regulation wouldn’t subsidize sprawl.

Unlike common carrier regulation, transparent and rider-neutral fares wouldn’t foreclose price competition. A new entrant would be free to enter the market and undercut the incumbent’s fares. In fact, transparent pricing might facilitate entry by letting a prospective entrant know what kind of fares

it would need to offer to be viable. The possibility of entry would preserve incentives to cut costs and innovate.

We anticipate three objections. First, it might be argued that transparent fares will facilitate tacit collusion. Robotaxi companies might find it easier to coordinate on an oligopoly fare if they knew exactly what their competitors were charging for every ride. We think that is right, but we doubt it will make much of a difference. Without transparent fares, robotaxi companies could simply collude, intentionally or unintentionally, through forms of direct or indirect algorithmic coordination.

Second, what if robotaxi companies replace individualized price discrimination with microtargeted group price discrimination? A robotaxi company could, for example, take into account historical demand in small geographic areas when setting fares. Your fares might not rise because you give up your car, but because your neighbors gave up their cars. We acknowledge that there’s a difficult tradeoff between the benefits of demand-variable pricing and the psychic costs of microtargeted price discrimination. It might make sense to limit the granularity of demand-variable pricing to census tracts or neighborhoods.

Third, what if one robotaxi company monopolizes the industry and just raises its fares across the board? The simple answer is that the high fares will attract other companies to enter the market—especially since those fares will be transparent and lock-in contracts will be banned. But this is not a complete answer because the combination of network effects and the high, fixed costs to enter the market may still slow entry, and high fares could cause hardship unless and until another company enters the market.

We would have policymakers use the credible threat of utility regulation to prevent abuse. Legislators could give regulators statutory authority to set fares if they deem it necessary to ensure affordable mobility. If a robotaxi monopolist raises its fares under a system of transparent and rider-neutral fares, everyone would be able to see that fares are rising, and a large portion of the population would have a stake. Regulators could then propose fixing fares. If the robotaxi monopolist took the hint and reduced its fares, problem solved. If it didn’t take the hint, regulators could impose more aggressive utility regulation. But we think utility regulation should be a last resort if competition does not lead to adequate service at acceptable fares.

  1. Emergency Planning

One emotionally salient advantage of personal motor vehicle ownership is the perception of mobility during emergencies. If the forecast says you are in the path of a hurricane, you can board up the windows, pack your bags and pets, and drive to safety before the storm hits (assuming you can find a place to fuel or charge your car). Even if the chance of an emergency that would require evacuation is slim, knowing that you could escape might give you peace of mind. Robotaxi regulation needs to provide the same peace of mind as personal motor vehicle ownership.

San Franciscans now have good reason to worry that robotaxis will not be available in emergencies. On December 20, 2025, a fire at a Pacific Gas & Electric substation caused a widespread blackout.326Julie Johnson & Megan Fan Munce, Massive San Francisco Power Outage Darkened Entire Neighborhoods for Hours, S.F. Chron. (Dec. 21, 2025), https://www.sfchronicle.com/sf/article/pg-e-outage-40-000-customers-without-power-21254326.php [https://web.archive.org/web/20260101222326/https://www.sfchronicle.com/sf/article/pg-e-outage-40-000-customers-without-power-21254326.php]. In large parts of the city, traffic lights went dark.327Id. Many of Waymo robotaxis stopped in the middle of the street, and some got stranded in intersections, blocking traffic.328Aidin Vaziri, Waymo Robotaxis Are Back on San Francisco Streets After Blackout, S.F. Chron. (Dec. 21, 2025), https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/waymo-san-francisco-power-outage-21255470.php [https://web.archive.org/web/20260108105820/https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/waymo-san-francisco-power-outage-21255470.php]. Waymo suspended its service and didn’t resume operation until the following day.329Id.; see also Bryant Walker Smith, On Waymo’s Traffic Jams, Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y, (Dec. 21, 2025), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2025/12/on-waymos-traffic-jams [https://perma.cc/MW4Z-HUWU]; Bryant Walker Smith, Answers to the Democratic Questions for the Record of the Senate Committee on Commerce, Science, and Transportation’s Hearing on the Future of Self-Driving Cars 5–6 (Feb. 27, 2026), https://newlypossible.org/files/2026SenateAnswers.pdf [https://perma.cc/9APU-FQRL].

Emergencies—including ones far greater than a blackout—could create many challenges: drastic changes to road environments, loss of communications, overwhelmed remote assistants and retrieval crews, mass dependency on robotaxis, and stopped automated vehicles becoming obstructions.

In the absence of regulation, robotaxi companies will have insufficient incentives to prepare for emergencies. As we saw above, they will likely maintain fleets with fewer vehicles than would be socially desirable in an emergency.330See supra Section I.B.3. A profit-maximizing robotaxi company will set the number of vehicles in its fleet by calculating when the marginal revenue gained by adding another vehicle would surpass the marginal cost. A fleet large enough to serve peak demand may include many vehicles that would sit idle during periods of average demand. The cost of storing, maintaining, and cleaning the vehicles that would be used only during peak demand could outweigh the revenue that they would generate.

Demand-variable pricing partially mitigates this problem. If a company can charge a higher per mile fare in peak demand, a larger number of vehicles will generate enough peak demand revenue to offset the losses in periods of average demand. But peak demand in non-emergency situations—the Tuesday morning rush hour—may still be a fraction of peak demand in an emergency.

More importantly, robotaxi companies will not be able to set fares at market prices in some emergencies because of “price-gouging” laws. Price-gouging is a special case of demand-variable pricing. In an emergency, demand for certain goods—water, food, gasoline—can spike. Sellers can temporarily raise their prices—sometimes exponentially—and profit from the increased demand.

Most states have enacted statutes that ban price-gouging. For example, a California statute provides that, if the government declares a state of emergency, a business may not raise the price of certain essential goods and services more than ten percent above the price it was charging before the emergency.331Cal. Penal Code § 396 (West 2025). The statute contains an exception that lets a business increase its price above that level if it can “prove that the increase in price was directly attributable to additional costs” it had to pay as a result of the emergency and the price is not more than ten percent “greater than the total of the cost to the seller plus the markup customarily applied by that seller for that good or service.”332Id. § 396(b).

The basic intuitions behind price-gouging laws are about fairness.333For a defense, see Christopher Buccafusco, Daniel Hemel & Eric Talley, The Price of Fairness, 84 Ohio St. L.J. 389 (2023); Kaitlin Ainsworth Caruso, Price Gouging, the Pandemic, and What Comes Next, 64 Bos. College L. Rev. 1799 (2023) Sellers should not be able to take advantage of buyers in temporary monopoly situations: the gas station should not be able to charge you $100 a gallon as you are fleeing the storm. Fairness also suggests that the rich should not be able to hoard scarce necessities: in a pandemic, ventilators should be available to more than just billionaires.

Although price-gouging laws are popular with legislators, they are unpopular with economists. There are three standard criticisms. First, they reduce sellers’ incentives to stockpile inventory to prepare for emergencies and to increase production during emergencies.334See Caruso, supra note 333, at 1838. Second, they encourage consumers to hoard rather than just buying what they need.335See Buccafusco et al., supra note 333, at 403; Caruso, supra note 333, at 1838. Third, they allocate goods and services to buyers who show up first instead of buyers with a higher willingness to pay (plus, of course, the actual ability to pay).336See Caruso, supra note 333, at 1838.

Repealing price-gouging laws—or exempting robotaxi companies from those laws—would create an incentive to maintain larger fleets for emergencies. But this salutary incentive must be weighed against the cost to peace of mind: people who fear that they will be price-gouged in an emergency will be less likely to give up their personal motor vehicles.

Policymakers can instead solve the problem of robotaxi service in emergencies by ensuring that the industry as a whole maintains a fleet that is sufficient to serve the state’s emergency plans.337The Civil Reserve Air Fleet offers an instructive example. See Civil Reserve Airfleet, U.S. Dep’t of Transp. (Feb. 23, 2024), https://www.transportation.gov/mission/administrations/intelligence-security-emergency-response/civil-reserve-airfleet-allocations [https://perma.cc/C6K2-ELCZ]. Emergency management officials could determine the overall size of the fleet. Then robotaxi regulators could periodically apportion responsibility to individual companies according to their market share. The fleet would need to be “available”—ready to deploy on demand. The state could provide a subsidy to each company equivalent to the loss they incur from maintaining these additional vehicles. Alternatively, regulators could create incentives that reward dynamic expansion capacity. This extra capacity might simply include more robotaxis. But it could also include ready and reliable access to buses and, if those buses are conventional, human drivers.

In some emergencies, public authorities need to mandate evacuation. If a significant portion of the population relies on robotaxis, robotaxis need to be part of the evacuation plan. Emergency management officials should be given the authority to temporarily control how robotaxis are deployed in an evacuation. Robotaxi companies should be required to prioritize ride requests within an evacuation zone and to offer evacuation rides for free. Public authorities can reimburse the companies for the cost of providing the service.

Emergency management officials and robotaxi regulators should not wait until an emergency arises to verify if robotaxi companies can meet their obligations. They should require that robotaxi companies—as well as providers of automated driving for personal motor vehicles—participate in simulations in which they test how companies would respond to different types of emergencies. These simulations would serve as an audit to confirm that robotaxi companies maintain a sufficiently large available fleet and have robust break-the-glass operational plans that account for abnormal roadway conditions, disrupted connectivity, staffing shortages, and other logistical impediments.

These simulations should highlight details that might otherwise be overlooked. Will the kind of all-electric fleet that we encourage in this Article suffice in an evacuation? Will robotaxis still function if roadways become unidirectional, if thousands of officers are manually directing drivers at hundreds of intersections, if debris or water is covering roads, and if communications are down (or if remote assistants are overwhelmed)? If not, will these vehicles block roads in a way that further stymies evacuation and emergency response? Careful emergency planning will help build confidence that it is safe to live without owning a personal motor vehicle.

IV. Redesigning Mobility

It is easy to envision how robotaxis might fail as a business.338As we caution throughout this Article, they could also succeed as a business case and nonetheless fail society in important ways. They might not achieve an acceptable level of safety or a sufficiently lucrative ODD. They might not become cheap enough to compete with traditional taxis and TNCs. They might successfully compete with these modes in high demand areas but not provide a service that is convenient or reliable enough to replace personal motor vehicles. Indeed, as personal motor vehicles have generally proven more popular than taxis in many parts of the country, automated personal motor vehicles may prove to be more popular than robotaxis.

But what if robotaxis succeed as a business? What if they become sufficiently safe, convenient, reliable, and affordable that they serve the mobility needs of most of the residents of some metropolitan areas? That would create the opportunity to redesign our transportation system. This topic merits its own article. Here we just touch briefly on three issues: liberating land, refocusing transit, and expanding access.

A. Liberating Land

Most U.S. cities are oriented around the automobile. Even in the densest neighborhoods, some of the most valuable land is used for parking lots and garages. Most streets are designed to prioritize automobile use—more lanes for motor vehicles and curbside parking, less space for the cyclists and pedestrians who are relegated to both the literal and the metaphoric margins of the transportation system. And only a few U.S. cities have mass transit that serves enough of the travel demand with enough frequency, speed, and reliability to compete with personal motor vehicles.

Urban planners have long argued that cities do not have to be like this. Tokyo’s transit is so fast, frequent, extensive, and reliable that the city has about 0.32 motor vehicles per household. Copenhagen’s streets are so safe and convenient for cyclists and pedestrians that 49% of commuters travel by bike. And in New York City, despite decades of neglect, the subway is still useful enough that 56.7% of households do not own a car.339Justin Fox, New York Isn’t the Only Place You Don’t Need a Car, Bloomberg (Sep. 24, 2025), https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2025-09-24/new-york-isn-t-the-only-place-you-don-t-need-a-car [https://perma.cc/M7KV-6S8L]. It is important to recognize that space is a limiting factor: if cars had more space, there would be more cars.

Some urban planners are skeptical about the deployment of automated vehicles (including personal motor vehicles as well as robotaxis) precisely because they think automated driving will entrench the automobile, set back fragile gains for cyclists and pedestrians, and undermine support for transit. And some of their fears are grounded in facts. For over a decade now, pundits have been invoking a self-driving future to oppose investments in other modes of transportation.340See, e.g., Jim Epstein, Self-Driving Cars Are Coming Fast, So Why Should We Spend a Dime Rebuilding Amtrak?, reason (May 24, 2015), https://reason.com/2015/05/24/self-driving-cars-amtrak [https://perma.cc/4KPQ-BWRF]. For an early warning, see Bryant Walker Smith, The Impact of Automation on Environmental Impact Statements, Stan. Ctr. for Internet & Soc’y (Oct. 1, 2013), https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2013/10/impact-automation-environmental-impact-statements [https://perma.cc/KG5X-VNMT].

We think that robotaxis have the potential to preserve what people like about the automobile without requiring cities to revolve around the automobile.

Cities could start by changing the economics of parking. As many have explained, free parking is at the root of many urban problems, from the high cost of urban construction to suburban sprawl.341See Donald Shoup, The High Cost of Free Parking (2d ed. 2017). In recent years, some states and cities have repealed laws that mandated a minimum number of parking spaces for certain land uses. But in most cities, politicians are reluctant to abolish parking requirements or charge a market price because many of their constituents rely on personal motor vehicles. And those vehicles spend most of the day in parking.

Robotaxis will spend most of their days moving, so the companies that own them can maximize their revenue. Even overnight, robotaxis can be used to transport goods. When robotaxis stop for charging, cleaning, and maintenance, they can be compactly stored on private property.342Albeit not wholly without problem. See Joe Wilkins, Waymo’s Self-Driving Taxis Have a Hilarious Problem That’s Driving People Bananas, Futurism (May 31, 2025), https://futurism.com/waymo-taxi-protest-noise [https://perma.cc/3NRE-MUFB] (describing noise complaints from neighbors of Waymo depots). If robotaxis succeed, much of the urban land we currently devote to parking lots and garages can be converted to apartments, stores, and parks.

If people have access to a wide range of robotaxis, they will no longer need to own a single vehicle that does everything and goes everywhere. If you need (or believe that you might at some point want to use) a pickup truck, then you might buy a pickup truck. And once you own it, especially if you own no other motor vehicles, you will expect to be able to drive it and park it everywhere. But if you have access to a robotaxi truck or can take a reliable robotaxi to reach a conventional truck located outside the city, then it may not be necessary to drive your own truck everywhere. This may give communities much more flexibility in reimagining themselves.

Redesigning streets is key.343See Walker Smith, Managing Autonomous Transportation Demand, supra note 5, at 1417–20. Robotaxis will not need to park at the curbside—though they will need space to pull over to pick up and drop off riders. Robotaxis may also be able to serve the same travel demand with a smaller fleet—especially if they become as familiar as an elevator. This could give cities an opportunity to reclaim street space for protected bike lanes or wider sidewalks. And robotaxis are likely to be friendlier to cyclists and pedestrians in a way that could facilitate living streets with mixed modes.

B. Refocusing Transit

Cities could also rethink how they invest in transit. An important advantage of transit is throughput. More people can fit on a subway car or a bus than in a set of cars that occupy the same space.344Walker, supra note 281. Far more commuters in New York can travel from Harlem to Midtown at rush hour on the subway under Lexington Avenue than in traffic on the street above it.

Robotaxis might not change the logic of throughput. It is possible that robotaxis could increase vehicle capacity (if the vehicles have closer lateral and longitudinal spacing, smoother flows, or fewer crashes) and otherwise increase person capacity (if people share rides). They likely will not, however, compete with the Lexington Avenue subway in the foreseeable future.

But most transit in the United States is not like the Lexington Avenue subway, which runs with two-minute headways at rush hour. Some transit agencies operate buses or trains that run every half hour or less. Some run buses that are mostly empty—and that may be stuck in congestion caused primarily by single-occupant vehicles. Some of these low-throughput transit lines may be justified given the realistic alternatives, but it is possible we can do better.

If robotaxis are cheap enough to replace personal motor vehicles, they may be able to replace low-throughput transit lines—provided that policymakers continue to subsidize low-income riders who relied on those lines.

C. Expanding Access

Mobility creates positive externalities. We benefit not just when it is easier for us to travel, but when it is easier for our friends, family, and coworkers to travel—provided that the negative externalities are managed. Current transportation policy is full of subsidies, both obvious and hidden. Many of those hidden subsidies perversely encourage personal motor vehicle ownership,345See Gregory H. Shill, Should Law Subsidize Driving?, 95 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 498, 506–77 (2020). but some are worth keeping. If robotaxis start to replace other modes of travel, to what extent should governments subsidize robotaxi rides for those whose mobility needs would not be adequately served by the market? We consider three issues: people with low incomes, people with disabilities, and sparsely populated areas.

  1. People with Low Incomes

The case for subsidizing the mobility of people with low incomes is straightforward. Mobility enables economic opportunity, educational advancement, and civic participation. Targeted mobility subsidies can reduce economic inequality and increase social mobility.

Existing policy subsidizes the mobility of low-income people with both implicit and explicit subsidies (while, in other ways, increasing the price of that mobility). The implicit subsidy is providing transit to the general public at fares below the cost of providing the service.346Yonah Freemark, A Note on Transportation Subsidies, Transp. Pol. (Sep. 21, 2011), https://www.thetransportpolitic.com/2011/09/21/a-note-on-transportation-subsidies [https://perma.cc/SC2X-AVJV] (noting that “almost every city around the world” subsidizes train and bus services). Everyone can benefit from the low fares, but riders with modest incomes may benefit the most. The explicit subsidy is providing discounted fares for low-income riders.347For example, in the San Francisco Bay Area, the Clipper START program subsidizes mobility for low-income people. See Clipper START, https://www.clipperstartcard.com/s [https://perma.cc/5SFN-WXXC]. (The price increase comes in part from the land use policies, discussed above, that push low-income people far away from city centers.)

A subsidy designed to improve the living standards of low-income people raises the question: is a targeted subsidy superior to an unrestricted cash transfer? An unrestricted cash transfer respects autonomy by letting recipients decide for themselves how they want to allocate their budget. They might want to spend less on transportation than their share of a mobility subsidy would provide. A targeted subsidy would distort spending away from what some recipients would prefer.

We acknowledge the force of the critique, but we think targeted mobility subsidies to low-income people are smart politics. Unrestricted cash transfer programs are hampered by the (likely false348See Miranda Perry Fleischer & Daniel Hemel, The Architecture of a Basic Income, 87 U. Chi. L. Rev. 625, 651–52 (2020) (discussing evidence on how recipients use direct cash transfers).) perception that the recipients will squander the money. One critical advantage of transportation subsidies is that voters understand that transportation is a necessity, so they can trust that the money will be put to good use.349Report: 98 Percent of U.S. Commuters Favor Public Transportation for Others, The Onion (Nov. 29, 2000), https://theonion.com/report-98-percent-of-u-s-commuters-favor-public-trans-1819565837 [https://perma.cc/A8TZ-YUY8].

Legislators should enact a means-tested subsidy for robotaxi service. The right time to adopt this subsidy is when robotaxis start to replace low-throughput transit. Low-income people who relied on those routes will need a substitute, and robotaxi fares may be higher than transit fares. A similar argument can be made for low-income people who rely on personal motor vehicle ownership at the time that on-street parking becomes less available or more expensive. They may not be able to afford the increased cost of private parking, so subsidized robotaxi service may be the only realistic replacement. Even a modest subsidy could be consequential for the mobility of people with limited means.

  1. People with Disabilities

For people with disabilities, subsidies need to take a different form. At the outset, it is important to recognize the incredible diversity among people with disabilities. A person who is blind may have very different mobility challenges than a person who uses a wheelchair. People who use wheelchairs may also have very different mobility challenges depending on their other abilities (such as significant upper-body strength and agility) or disabilities (such as deafness or mental impairment).

So, we might start—but cannot end—this discussion with people who use electric mobility scooters or other devices that cannot easily get or fit into conventional vehicles. They need access to spacious vehicles with a ramp or a lift, sometimes called Wheelchair Accessible Vehicles (“WAVs”).

As we mentioned in Part I, California has attempted to expand mobility by requiring TNC riders to contribute five cents per trip to the TNC Access for All Fund.350Cal. Pub. Util. Code § 5440.5(a)(1)(B); see also Cal. Pub. Utils. Comm’n, Transportation Network Company (TNC) Access for All Program (2023), https://www.cpuc.ca.gov/-/media/cpuc-website/divisions/consumer-protection-and-enforcement-division/documents/tlab/accessforall/tnc-access-for-all_factsheet_2024-final.pdf [https://perma.cc/26DD-GGH3]. The CPUC is directed to distribute those funds to businesses or nonprofits that provide transportation to people with disabilities, especially people who require a WAV.351Cal. Pub. Util. Code § 5440.5(a)(1)(C). A TNC can avoid charging the fee if the CPUC determines that it is providing a sufficient level of WAV service.352Id. § 5440.5(a)(1)(G). And the CPUC can also offset the amount due by the amount a TNC invests in improving its WAV service.353Id. § 5440.5(a)(1)(B)(ii).

The introduction of robotaxis creates an opportunity to redesign vehicles to make them more accessible. It may be feasible to require that all robotaxis be WAVs. Then regulators would not have to monitor the level of service provided to people with disabilities, as the CPUC is doing now. They would receive the same service as everyone else—that is, unless they need the assistance that bus, paratransit, and taxi drivers often provide as an official or unofficial part of their jobs.

It is possible, though, that the cost of making every robotaxi a WAV will prove prohibitive. In that case, legislators could adopt a policy like California’s. Either taxpayers generally or robotaxi and TNC riders specifically could contribute to a public fund. Then regulators could offer those funds to companies that operate WAVs. The downside of this approach is that regulators would need to monitor service levels to make sure that riders who need WAVs aren’t enduring unreasonable waits.

NHTSA can encourage the development of accessible robotaxis today. As we saw in Part I, companies introducing automated vehicles that do not meet NHTSA’s Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards need an exemption from the agency.354See, e.g., Letter from Paul A. Hemmersbaugh, Chief Counsel, Nat’l Highway Traffic Safety Admin., to Chris Urmson, Dir., Self-Driving Car Project, Google, Inc. (Feb. 4, 2016), https://www.nhtsa.gov/interpretations/google-compiled-response-12-nov-15-interp-request-4-feb-16-final [https://perma.cc/VC75-LHDE]; Walker Smith, Probably Legal, supra note 21; Walker Smith, Biden Admin, supra note 129. Although NHTSA’s authority to grant FMVSS exemptions is constrained, the agency can change the underlying standards. See id. NHTSA could announce that it will prioritize exemption requests for automated vehicles that are also WAVs355A statute that authorizes exemptions requires the Secretary to find that an exemption “is consistent with the public interest.” 49 U.S.C. § 30113(b)(3)(A).—a small step that nonetheless may have an important signaling effect. That might persuade some ADS developers to experiment with more accessible vehicle designs. And, if and when it is clear that accessible robotaxis are financially viable, regulators should mandate them.

  1. Sparsely Populated Areas

The case for subsidizing mobility in sparsely populated regions is more complicated. Policymakers have long sought to diminish geographic disparities in the availability and price of transportation service. In taxi regulation, the combination of entry restrictions and universal service requirements ensures that the profits taxis make in high demand areas cross-subsidize service in low demand areas.356Speta, supra note 188, at 115. Transit budgets often work similarly. Very few transit lines manage to break even on farebox revenue alone. But that revenue plus subsidies based in part on ridership numbers support less popular routes in sparsely populated areas.357Subsidies also support intercity transportation networks. When railroads and airlines were regulated, regulators aimed to equalize per mile fares. Ganesh Sitaraman, Morgan Ricks & Christopher Serkin, Regulation and the Geography of Inequality, 70 Duke L.J. 1763, 1769 (2021). After deregulation, Congress replaced rate-setting with subsidy schemes, such as the Essential Air Service program. Id. at 1792.

In the absence of subsidies, robotaxis are more likely to be deployed—and likely to be cheaper on a per mile basis—in places with high travel demand. This dynamic plays out on two levels. On a local scale, robotaxis are likely to be cheaper in cities than in their surrounding suburbs and exurbs. On a national scale, robotaxis are more likely to be deployed in large metropolitan areas than in smaller metropolitan areas or rural areas.

The policy case for local, place-based subsidies is weak. If the deployment of robotaxis reduces the absolute per mile cost of travel, it will increase demand for longer trips. That could facilitate commutes to city centers from suburbs and exurbs and shift development to places where it will have a greater environmental impact. This is how robotaxis might encourage sprawl.358See Walker Smith, supra note 5, at 1417–18.

But that analysis is incomplete. Even if actual and perceived travel costs were to decline overall, shorter trips in densely populated areas are still likely to cost less than longer trips in sparsely populated areas. Robotaxis might also enable “distributed density”—more dense pockets of development within already urbanized areas—if land use regulation can be liberalized to allow it.359See David Schleicher, How Land Use Law Impedes Transportation Innovation, in Evidence and Innovation in Housing Law and Policy (Lee Anne Fennell and Benjamin J. Keys eds., 2017). If, however, a government attempts to equalize the per mile cost of travel, it will be effectively subsidizing sprawl.

It might be argued that local, place-based subsidies will help low-income neighborhoods. In some U.S. metropolitan areas, average incomes are higher in the city than in the surrounding suburbs and exurbs. But if the policy goal is subsidizing mobility for low-income people, the most efficient intervention is means-based subsidies, not place-based subsidies.

There may, however, be a political justification for local, place-based subsidies. If cities make driving or parking more expensive, they may face opposition from suburban commuters. The opposition might be particularly intense if suburbanites pay much higher per-mile fares for robotaxis and are thus less willing to replace their personal motor vehicles. In that case, place-based subsidies could be a kind of compromise: suburbanites give up their cars, and in exchange they get cheaper robotaxi service. But the cost of the compromise is encouraging sprawl.

The case for subsidies at the national level is different. In the absence of subsidies, large metropolitan areas might switch to robotaxis while smaller metropolitan areas and rural areas remain dependent on personal motor vehicles. If the primary advantage of robotaxis is economic, this might be an acceptable outcome. Even the most zealous transit advocates do not call for subways to be built under Topeka, even though it might expand mobility. But we can see a case for subsidizing robotaxis in less dense regions if robotaxis provide other benefits and if subsidies provide an important and preferably temporary boost over a critical adoption hump.

More broadly, these risks and opportunities are also why we advocate for more holistic and whole-stream approaches, such as a carbon tax that is collected and rebated per capita, that empower people to make their own choices while simultaneously reducing the externalities that distort those choices.

Conclusion

We recognize that some advocates are skeptical about robotaxis.360See, e.g., Kevin Troung, We Spoke to One of the Activists ‘Coning’ Cruise and Waymo Robotaxis in San Francisco, S.F. Standard (July 7, 2023), https://sfstandard.com/2023/07/07/we-spoke-to-one-of-the-activists-coning-cruise-and-waymo-robotaxis-in-san-francisco [https://perma.cc/QF3H-Y6ZP]. They have been working to build a transportation system that relies less on cars and more on walking, biking, and mass transit. They worry that the deployment of robotaxis will undermine those efforts and entrench the automobile. And they do not want the transportation system to privilege the interests of large automakers and other tech companies.

We share these concerns. We recognize what Zipcar’s founder has described as a choice between “heaven or hell”361Robin Chase, Will a World of Driverless Cars Be Heaven or Hell?, Bloomberg CityLab (Apr. 3, 2024), https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2014-04-03/will-a-world-of-driverless-cars-be-heaven-or-hell [https://perma.cc/JR46-XETR].—and the many gradations between those two extremes. Automated driving is like the internet: a tool that opens up possible futures, some better and some worse.362See Boaz Miller, Is Technology Value-Neutral?, 46 Sci., Tech. & Hum. Values 53 (2021); Per Sundström, Interpreting the Notion that Technology Is Value-Neutral, 1 Med. Health Care & Phil. 41 (1998). Its use can and should be subjected to democratic control. With careful regulation, the introduction of robotaxis can liberate cities from the worst effects of the automobile—and thereby save lives, expand mobility, and make cities more livable.

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 603

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* Associate Professor of Law and Engineering, University of South Carolina.
† Professor of Law, Cardozo School of Law. We thank Amitai Bin-Nun, Hannah Bloch-Wehba,
Jill Fisch, Eric Goldwyn, Phil Koopman, Mark Lemley, Jared Mayer, Gerard Magliocca, Michael Pollack,
David Schleicher, Ganesh Sitaraman, Stew Sterk, Brad Templeton, Marshall Van Allstyne, William
Widen, Katrina Wyman, Jinhua Zhao, and participants at the 2025 American Law and Economics
Association Annual Meeting and the 2025 MIT Mobility Initiative Vision Day for helpful suggestions.
We thank Camila Schaulsohn for her valuable research assistance and the editors of the Southern
California Law Review for their thoughtful editing.

Sentencing Immigrants

  Introduction

The most commonly charged federal felony is the crime of reentering the United States after deportation.18 U.S.C. § 1326. On average twenty thousand people have been prosecuted for it per year since 2010, making unlawful reentry cases about one-third of the federal criminal caseload.2See Am. Immigr. Council, Prosecuting People for Coming to the United States (Aug 23, 2021), https://www.americanimmigrationcouncil.org/research/immigration-prosecutions [https://perma.cc/7MAZ-JJD6]. The reported number of § 1326 prosecutions for fiscal year 2023 was 14,350. Off. of the U. S. Att’ys, Prosecuting Immigration Crimes Report, 8 U.S.C § 1326 Monthly Defs Filed 3 (2023). See also U. S. Courts, Federal Judicial Caseload Statistics 2023, https://www.uscourts.gov/statistics-reports/federal-judicial-caseload-statistics-2023 [https://perma.cc/5CZB-E99C] (noting that immigration offenses constituted 29% of federal criminal filings in 2023); U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, 2023 Annual Report 14 (“In FY 2023, immigration offenses were most common, accounting for 30.0 percent of the total sentencing caseload.”). And that number is about to dramatically increase. President Trump’s Department of Justice has announced a new policy of charging felony unlawful reentry in every available case, and it plans to reassign federal prosecutors working on drug and terrorism cases in order to prosecute more immigrants.3Memorandum from Acting Deputy Attorney General Emil Bove to All Department Employees, Interim Policy Changes Regarding Charging, Sentencing, and Immigration Enforcement (Jan. 21, 2025). Roughly 99% of the defendants in unlawful reentry cases are Latin American.4U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Quick Facts: Illegal Reentry Offenses (2023), https://www.ussc.gov/sites/default/files/pdf/research-and-publications/quick-facts/Illegal_Reentry_FY22.pdf [https://perma.cc/VC6S-5L43]. The charge is, by definition, a nonviolent and victimless crime. It involves only entering or being found in the United States after a deportation. Yet defendants in these cases are systematically punished more harshly than comparable U.S. citizen defendants are in other cases. This happens in two ways.

First, the United States Sentencing Guidelines count reentry defendants’ criminal history against them twice. The Sentencing Guidelines are a complex set of rules that produce recommended sentences in federal criminal cases. While federal judges are not bound by the Guidelines, they follow the Guidelines about 90% of the time in unlawful reentry sentencings.5See id. at 2; U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Federal Sentencing of Illegal Reentry: The Impact of the 2016 Guideline Amendment 9 (2022). In a standard criminal case, the Guidelines create a recommended sentence range by quantifying two variables: the defendant’s past convictions and facts about the current case. Past convictions create a “Criminal History Category” between one and six, while facts about the current crime create an “Offense Level” between one and forty-three.6See infra Appendix (United States Sentencing Guidelines Sentencing Table). But in unlawful reentry cases, past convictions increase both the Criminal History Category and the Offense Level. Reentry defendants thus receive much larger sentence enhancements for their past crimes.

This double counting is worsened by another problem: the arbitrary way prior convictions are used to generate enhancements. The unlawful reentry guidelines make large swings in sentence length turn on obscure details of a person’s criminal history. This renders sentencing in these cases uniquely random and uncertain. Multiple years in prison turn on minutiae like the precise timing of a deportation order or probation violation, or whether a state uses a determinate or indeterminate sentencing system. People with similar criminal and immigration histories receive vastly different sentences based on such technical differences. And this problem is further compounded by the difficulty of finding and interpreting state conviction records. Figuring out the recommended sentence is like solving a high-stakes logic game. Defense lawyers are commonly unable to discern what length of sentence a defendant is looking at. And because the system pressures reentry defendants to plead guilty at the first opportunity, defendants often find out at sentencing that their punishment will be more severe than anticipated.

Second, undocumented immigrants serve a substantially larger portion of their sentences than do U.S. citizen defendants. The First Step Act, signed into law by President Trump in 2018, created a new system of “earned time” credits for federal prisoners.7See 18 U.S.C. § 3632. Under that law, a federal defendant who is willing to participate in anti-recidivism programs can get up to fifteen days off their prison sentence for every thirty days served.818 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(A). That means their time in prison can be reduced by up to one-third. In addition, defendants receive these credits even if they are not assigned to a program or no program is available. The only requirement is that they not refuse to participate. But deportable immigrants are prohibited from both participating in First Step Act programs and receiving custody reductions.918 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(D)(lix), (E). This means that, by law, an undocumented prisoner will serve a significantly higher percentage of their sentence due to their immigration status.

To illustrate how this sentencing discrimination works in practice, consider two federal defendants: X and Y. Defendant X is charged with escaping from a federal prison, while defendant Y is charged with reentering the United States after deportation.10The crime of escaping from prison is codified at 18 U.S.C. § 751. This crime was chosen for comparison because, as with § 1326, the defendant is legally excluded from the community and is being prosecuted for violating that exclusion. Both X and Y have identical criminal histories: two prior felony convictions within the past fifteen years, each resulting in a two-year sentence. Under the Sentencing Guidelines, both X and Y will have a Criminal History Category of III due to the two prior felonies.11U.S. Sent’g Guidelines Manual § 4A1.1 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023) [hereinafter “Guidelines Manual”] (providing that each of the convictions receives three criminal history points, meaning both X and Y have six total points, which puts them in criminal history category (“CHC”) III). Assuming that there are no aggravating or mitigating facts (like using physical violence or returning to custody voluntarily), X will have an Offense Level of thirteen for escaping from prison.12Id. § 2P1.1 (2023). Y will start with a lower Offense Level of eight for reentering the United States. But Y’s past convictions will also trigger enhancements of the Offense Level. If Y’s first deportation happened either before or after their two felony convictions, their total Offense Level will be sixteen.13Id. § 2L1.2 (2023). If their first deportation happened in between the two felony convictions, the Offense Level will be twenty-four.14Id. The Guidelines will recommend a sentence of eighteen to twenty-four months for X’s prison escape. And for Y’s reentry, they will recommend a sentence of either twenty-seven to thirty-three months or sixty-three to seventy-eight months (depending entirely on the timing of the first deportation). Unlawful reentry is the only federal crime for which criminal history is double counted like this. And once in prison, X will qualify for First Step Act programs that will let X spend up to one-third of their sentence out of custody or at a halfway house. Y, as a deported immigrant, cannot benefit from those programs.

As this example shows, these rules create two separate and unequal federal sentencing systems. Undocumented defendants, basically all of them Latin American, are treated more severely for their past crimes and are denied the lenient sentence reductions that U.S. citizens enjoy. And the enactment history of these policies reflects nativist animosity toward Latin American immigrants. The large recidivist enhancement for unlawful reentry was first created in 1991 with no study and little debate.15See infra Section I.B. It was enacted in response to Congress increasing the maximum sentence from two to fifteen years. That statutory change, in turn, was driven by racial panic in Florida over Haitian and Cuban refugees causing a supposed crime wave.16See infra Section I.A. The initial enhancement focused only on a small number of serious crimes, including murder and drug trafficking. But it evolved over time into a general enhancement for all past crimes. The First Step Act, in turn, was the first Trump Administration’s signature criminal justice reform initiative. Since the Trump Administration has been the most anti-immigration presidency in

recent memory, it is not surprising that the law excludes deportable immigrants from its earned time credit system.17See infra Section I.C.

These sentencing rules explicitly discriminate against immigrants, and their history reflects racist and nativist antipathies. It might thus be logical to look to the Equal Protection Clause for a remedy, or to the federal statute mandating that the Sentencing Guidelines be “entirely neutral” as to race and national origin.1828 U.S.C. § 994(d). But defendants trying to make such arguments have run into a problem—the Supreme Court’s antidiscrimination doctrines erect numerous obstacles to such equality claims.19See, e.g., United States v. Osorto, 995 F.3d 801 (11th Cir. 2021) (rejecting an equal protection argument against the Guidelines’ double counting of criminal history in unlawful reentry cases); cases cited infra note 371. Federal laws that discriminate by immigration status are only subjected to “rational basis” review.20See Mathews v. Diaz, 426 U.S. 67 (1976). While these sentencing rules overwhelmingly burden Latin American defendants, the Supreme Court has disallowed racial discrimination claims that rely on disparate impact.21See United States v. Armstrong, 517 U.S. 456 (1996); McCleskey v. Kemp, 481 U.S. 279 (1987); Washington v. Davis, 426 U.S. 229 (1976). And the Court adopts a strong presumption that government action is not motivated by racial animus.22See Abbott v. Perez, 585 U.S. 579 (2018).

But sentencing is not like judicial review. In the discretionary sentencing context, the judge is the legally designated decisionmaker. They are not reviewing the work of an agency or legislature. Federal judges are empowered to disregard the Guidelines and sentence a defendant anywhere within the statutory range.23See United States v. Booker, 543 U.S. 220 (2005). The deference concerns that have hollowed out Equal Protection doctrine thus do not apply to discretionary sentencing decisions. In other contexts, scholars have identified circumstances in which executive branch agencies engage in “administrative constitutionalism”—incorporating constitutional norms into policy more robustly than formal legal doctrine requires.24See, e.g., Gillian E. Metzger, Administrative Constitutionalism, 91 Tex. L. Rev. 1897 (2013); Karen M. Tani, Administrative Constitutionalism at the “Borders of Belonging”: Drawing on History to Expand the Archive and Change the Lens, 167 U. Pa. L. Rev. 1603 (2019); Karen M. Tani, Administrative Equal Protection: Federalism, the Fourteenth Amendment, and the Rights of the Poor, 100 Cornell L. Rev. 825 (2015); Karen M. Tani, An Administrative Right to Be Free from Sexual Violence? Title IX Enforcement in Historical and Institutional Perspective, 66 Duke L.J. 1847 (2017); Sophia Z. Lee, Race, Sex, and Rulemaking: Administrative Constitutionalism and the Workplace, 1960 to the Present, 96 Va. L. Rev. 799 (2010); Blake Emerson, Affirmatively Furthering Equal Protection: Constitutional Meaning in the Administration of Fair Housing, 65 Buff. L. Rev. 163 (2017); Eric S. Fish, Prosecutorial Constitutionalism, 90 S. Cal. L. Rev. 237 (2017); Bertrall L. Ross II, Administrative Constitutionalism as Popular Constitutionalism, 168 U. Pa. L. Rev. 1783 (2019); Russell Gold, Beyond the Judicial Fourth Amendment: The Prosecutor’s Role, 47 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 1591 (2013). Judges should also embrace a version of administrative constitutionalism at sentencing. Here I call this “sentencing constitutionalism.” Employing it, judges should reject sentencing rules that create racial and immigration-status-based hierarchies. And they should do so even if those rules would be upheld in the formal constitutional review context. Justice Kennedy gestured at something like this approach in Beckles v. United States.25Beckles v. United States, 580 U.S. 256 (2017). In that case, the Supreme Court held that constitutional vagueness challenges do not apply to the Federal Sentencing Guidelines because they are advisory.26Id. at 265. But Justice Kennedy wrote a concurrence arguing that quasi-constitutional vagueness arguments still have a place in the discretionary sentencing context.27Id. at 270–71 (Kennedy, J., concurring). Sentencing constitutionalism is also analogous to the idea of “imperfect” defenses in criminal cases. There are contexts in which a defendant cannot legally argue a defense like duress or self-defense, but the moral justification underlying that defense still clearly applies.28See, e.g., Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 5K2.12 (2023) (addressing imperfect defense departures); Carissa Byrne Hessick & Douglas A. Berman, Towards a Theory of Mitigation, 96 B.U. L. Rev. 161, 188–91 (2016). Judges will often reduce defendants’ sentences due to such imperfect defenses.29Hessick & Berman, supra note 28, at 191. Sentencing constitutionalism operates the same way, but with constitutional equality claims in place of defenses.

Federal crack cocaine sentencing provides a powerful example of sentencing constitutionalism in practice, as well as a close analogue to the sentencing discrimination faced by immigrants. For sentencing purposes, the Guidelines initially treated one gram of crack cocaine the same as one hundred grams of powder cocaine.30See Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2D1.1(c); Kimbrough v. United States, 552 U.S. 85, 96–97 (2007). This caused crack cocaine traffickers to be punished much more harshly than powder cocaine traffickers for the same volume of basically equivalent drugs. And this had a clear disparate impact by race because crack cocaine defendants were almost entirely African American.31U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Special Report to Congress: Cocaine and Federal Sentencing Policy 156, 161 (1995); Deborah Vagins & Jesselyn McCurdy, ACLU, Cracks in the System: 20 Years of the Unjust Federal Crack Cocaine Law i (2006). Much like the policy of double-counting immigrants’ criminal history, these crack sentencing rules were designed without formal deliberation or policy analysis,32See Kimbrough, 552 U.S. at 109–10. and were made in response to a congressional statute enacted during a racialized moral panic over crime.33See Doris Marie Provine, Unequal Under Law: Race in the War on Drugs 104–19 (2007). The crack sentencing guidelines were ultimately upheld in direct constitutional challenges.34See, e.g., United States v. Clary, 34 F.3d 709 (8th Cir. 1994); United States v. Singleterry, 29 F.3d 733 (1st Cir. 1994); United States v. Byse, 28 F.3d 1165 (11th Cir. 1994); David Sklansky, Cocaine, Race, and Equal Protection, 47 Stan. L. Rev. 1283, 1303–06 (1995) (collecting cases). But many federal judges have exercised their authority to disregard the crack guidelines and adopt less discriminatory sentencing practices.35See U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Final Report on the Impact of United States v. Booker on Federal Sentencing 18 n.140 (2006) (collecting cases where judges varied from the crack cocaine guidelines); U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Interactive Data Analyzer, https://ida.ussc.gov/analytics/saw.dll?Dashboard [https://archive.ph/qjcmT] (showing that more than half of crack cocaine sentences are downward variances from the guidelines range). In doing so, these judges have adhered to a higher standard of antidiscrimination than formal doctrine requires. Judges should act similarly in the immigrant sentencing context. They should refuse to impose the discriminatory rules built into the Guidelines, and they should counteract the discrimination built into the First Step Act’s sentence reductions.36Indeed, a few judges have done this. See, e.g., United States v. Zapata-Trevino, 378 F. Supp. 2d 1321 (D.N.M. 2005) (sentencing a reentry defendant below the Guidelines range to offset the discriminatory effects of double counting criminal history and exclusion from in-custody programming); United States v. Santos, 406 F. Supp. 2d 320 (S.D.N.Y. 2005) (same).

This Article has two goals: to describe how federal sentencing law discriminates against undocumented immigrants, and to propose a framework for judges to counteract that discrimination. It is organized into four Parts. Part I traces the history of federal immigrant sentencing over the last several decades, exploring how and why these unequal rules were adopted. Part II shows that these sentencing rules discriminate explicitly by immigration status, and in effect by race. Part III explains how the Guidelines’ double-enhancements for criminal history create a sentencing system where arbitrary details of a defendant’s criminal record dictate large (often multi-year) increases in their sentence. It also illustrates the problem with a real-life case. Part IV introduces the concept of sentencing constitutionalism. It argues that judges should exercise their inherent power over discretionary sentencing to counteract punishment rules that discriminate by race and immigration status. It also shows that federal judges have been doing precisely this in the context of crack cocaine sentences—varying downward to mitigate racial discrimination that has gone unredressed in formal legal challenges.

I.  The Evolution of Undocumented Immigrant Sentencing

This Part explores how federal law crafted a separate sentencing system for undocumented immigrant defendants. It focuses on three key changes. First, in the late 1980s and early 1990s, three members of Congress from Florida—Lawton Chiles, Bob Graham, and Bill McCollum—successfully pushed to increase the maximum penalty for unlawful reentry from two to twenty years.37Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988, Pub. L. No. 100-690, § 7345(a)(2), 102 Stat. 4181, 4471 (codified at 8 U.S.C. § 1326(b)(1) (1988)); Immigration Act of 1990, Pub. L. No. 101-649, § 543(b)(3), 104 Stat. 5059 (codified at 8 U.S.C. § 1326(b)(1) (1990)). These legislators justified the increase by arguing that immigrants were causing a crime wave. They did so in reaction to a nativist panic in Florida over Cuban and Haitian immigration. Second, in response to this increase in the maximum penalty, the United States Sentencing Commission amended the unlawful reentry guidelines in 1991 to provide double sentence enhancements for prior convictions.38Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at app. C, amend. 375 (1991). Those guidelines have changed significantly in the intervening years, most notably in 2001 and 2016. But they still punish unlawful reentry defendants more severely for past convictions than other federal defendants. Third, in 2018 Congress enacted the First Step Act with support from the Trump Administration.39First Step Act of 2018, Pub. L. No. 115-391, 132 Stat. 5194 (2018) (codified at 18 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)). Among other things, that law created a system of earned time credits that let federal prisoners reduce their custody time by up to a third. But, due to the Trump Administration’s antipathy toward Latin American immigrants, prisoners with deportation orders were excluded from earning such credits.

A.  Florida’s Refugee Crisis and Reentry Sentences

Congress originally criminalized unlawful reentry in 1929, as part of the “Undesirable Aliens Act.”40An “act making it [a] felony with penalty for certain aliens to enter [the] United States [of America] under certain conditions in violation of law,” S.5094, 70th Cong. (1929) (enacted). The legislators who enacted it believed in scientific racism, and their goal was to limit immigration from Latin America in order to preserve the purity of the white race.41On the racist enactment history of the Undesirable Aliens Act, see, e.g., Eric S. Fish, Race, History, and Immigration Crimes, 107 Iowa L. Rev. 1051 (2022); Kelly Lytle Hernández, City of Inmates: Conquest, Rebellion, and the Rise of Human Caging in Los Angeles 1771–1965 (2017); Benjamin Gonzalez O’Brien, Handcuffs and Chain Link: Criminalizing the Undocumented in America (2018); César Cuahtémoc García Hernández, Welcome the Wretched 44–71 (2024). The law established, among other things, that any noncitizen convicted of reentering the United States after deportation would face up to two years in prison.42In a separate provision, the law also criminalized unlawful entry without a prior deportation as a misdemeanor with a six-month maximum penalty. That provision is codified at 8 U.S.C. § 1325. That unlawful reentry provision is now codified at 8 U.S.C. § 1326.

The sentences for unlawful reentry remained unchanged from 1929 until the late 1980s, when three members of Congress from Florida—Senator Lawton Chiles, Senator Bob Graham, and Representative Bill McCollum—sponsored a series of amendments that made the law harsher. To understand these legislators’ focus on punishing unlawful reentry more severely, one must appreciate Florida’s immigration politics in the 1980s and early 1990s.43See Aff. of Dr. S. Deborah Kang, United States v. Munoz-De La O, No. 20-cr-134-RMP, ECF No. 78–2, 24–54 (E.D. Wash., Dec. 22, 2021) [hereinafter Kang Affidavit]; Br. of Prof. S. Deborah Kang as Amicus Curiae in Supp. of Defs-Appellants, United States v. Ferretiz-Hernandez, No. 21-cr-00063 (11th Cir., Oct. 26, 2023). During that period, large influxes of refugees from Cuba and Haiti sparked a racial panic.44See Carl Lindskoog, Detain and Punish: Haitian Refugees and the Rise of the World’s Largest Immigration Detention System (2018); Alexander Stephens, Making Migrants “Criminal”: The Mariel Boatlift, Miami, and U.S. Immigration Policy in the 1980s, 17 Anthurium 4 (2021); Jonathan Simon, Refugees in a Carceral Age: The Rebirth of Immigration Prisons in the United States, 10 Pub. Culture 577, 582–94 (1998); Evelyn Cartright, The Plight of Haitian Refugees in South Florida, 12 J. of Haitian Stud. 112 (2006). In 1980, the Mariel boatlift brought nearly 125,000 Cubans and Haitians to Florida.45Stephens, supra note 44, at 1; Simon, supra note 44, at 579. Thousands more Haitians arrived in Florida as refugees from the Duvalier regime, and later from the military government that overthrew President Aristide in a coup.46Cartright, supra note 44, at 112–14. The presence of these immigrants caused a racist and nativist backlash among Floridians. The refugees were seen as carrying infectious diseases and creating a public health crisis.47Lindskoog, supra note 44, at 16–17, 53–54; Kang Affidavit, supra note 43, at 32–33, 64. They were also viewed as committing widespread crime.48Jillian Jacklin, The Cuban Refugee Criminal: Media Reporting and the Production of a Popular Image, 11 Int’l J. Cuban Stud. 61 (2019); Lindskoog, supra note 44, at 53, 81, 131–37; Stephens, supra note 44, at 1–5. Especially salient in Floridians’ minds was the specter of Latin American and Caribbean drug trafficking networks.49Stephens, supra note 44, at 10; Jacklin, supra note 48, at 66. Florida’s politicians (including Chiles, Graham, and McCollum) stoked these nativist fears and responded to them with anti-immigrant measures.50See Kang Affidavit, supra note 43, at 24–90; Stephens, supra note 44 at 11–13; Lindskoog, supra note 44, at 53–54. The federal government incarcerated thousands of Cuban and Haitian immigrants in detention centers and jails.51See Simon, supra note 44, at 582–90; Stephens, supra note 44 at 4–13. And Florida’s representatives in Congress sought, among other things, to increase the penalties for unlawful reentry.

The maximum sentence for unlawful reentry stayed at two years until 1988, when Senator Lawton Chiles proposed an amendment to increase it.52See Doug Keller, Re-thinking Illegal Entry and Re-entry, 44 Loy. U. Chi. L.J. 65, 96–97 (2012). Chiles’s amendment, which was attached to the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988, increased the maximum penalty to five years for any defendant who was deported after a felony conviction.53Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988, Pub. L. No. 100-690, § 7345(a)(2), 102 Stat. 4181, 4471 (codified at 8 U.S.C. § 1326(b)(1) (1988)). It also increased the maximum to fifteen years for any defendant deported after an “aggravated felony” conviction (Senator Chiles’s original proposal was for a fifteen-year mandatory minimum sentence, but this was changed to an increased maximum in the final statute).54Id.; see 133 Cong. Rec. S8772 (daily ed. Apr. 9, 1987) (statement of Sen. Chiles) (“any deported alien (aggravated felon) who reenters: mandatory 15 years”). See also Letter from H. Allen Moye, Assistant U.S. Attorney, to Ray Rukstele, First Assistant U.S. Attorney, Northern District of Georgia re Sentencing Guidelines: Re-Entry After Deportation of Aggravated Felons, Title 8, U.S.C. § 1326 Sept. 27, 1990 (on file with author) (“Unfortunately, during the House Sub-Committee hearings on this legislation, the minimum mandatory provision of this section was deleted from the original language.”). The term “aggravated felony” was introduced in the same legislation, as a way to designate crimes that will almost certainly result in deportation.55Anti-Drug Abuse Act § 7342, 102 Stat. at 4469–70 (codified at 8 U.S.C. § 1101(a)(43) (Nov. 18, 1988)); See Am. Immigr. Council, Aggravated Felonies: An Overview (Mar. 2021). The term initially only applied to a small list of crimes—murder, drug trafficking, and firearms trafficking—but it was later expanded.56See Keller, supra note 52, at 110; 8 U.S.C. § 1101(a)(43) (current list of aggravated felonies). Along with the increase in reentry penalties, Chiles introduced a number of other amendments to make immigration enforcement more punitive. These included a provision increasing the penalties for immigrant smuggling, a provision making it a crime not to appear at deportation proceedings, and a provision denying bond in the immigration system for people with aggravated felony convictions.57133 Cong. Rec. S8772 (daily ed. Apr. 9, 1987) (statement of Sen. Chiles).

In arguing for his amendments, Senator Chiles explicitly connected them to Florida’s panic over immigrant crime. In the committee hearing that he chaired presenting the proposals, he asserted in his opening statement that “an expansive drug syndicate established and managed by illegal aliens” was “so widespread and lucrative that they are attracting other aliens just to come into the illegal enterprise.”58Illegal Alien Felons: A Federal Responsibility: Hearing Before the S. Subcomm. on Fed. Spending, Budget, and Acct. of the Comm. on Governmental Affs., 100th Cong. 1–2 (1987) (statement of Sen. Chiles). He also claimed that “one of the largest and most widespread crack operations is run by illegal Haitians.”59Id. at 2. Chiles elicited testimony from several Florida law enforcement witnesses, who testified that Haitian immigrants play a major role in the Florida drug trade, and that it is difficult to prosecute such immigrants due to them skipping bond or leaving the United States.60Id. at 3–41. For example, one witness, an undocumented Haitian immigrant who was a police informant in Orlando, testified: “Many Haitians are brought into the United States illegally for the

sole purpose of dealing drugs and to recruit other Haitians for the drug business. These dealers are mixed with political refugees to hide their identity.”61Id. at 13.

In Chiles’s speech introducing his proposed amendments on the Senate floor, he stated that “the number of illegal aliens who deal in crack in the Orlando area has increased 300 percent in the last year,” and that “these numbers are being duplicated throughout Florida.”62133 Cong. Rec. S8771 (daily ed. Apr. 9, 1987) (statement of Sen. Chiles). He further warned that Florida was facing “expansive drug syndicates established and managed by illegal aliens.”63Id. He claimed that “these syndicates operate many of the drug networks—crack, cocaine, and heroin—in Florida and throughout the United States.”64Id. And also that “illegal alien felons . . . have no fear of or respect for our legal system.”65Id. Chiles’s claims about the scope of immigrant drug activity were exaggerated and implausible.66See Kang Affidavit, supra note 43, at 46–48; Implementation of Immigration Reform: Hearing Before the Subcomm. on Immigr. and Refugee Affs. of the Comm. on the Judiciary, 100th Cong. 32–50 (1988). Nonetheless, they were the major motivation behind his successful effort to increase reentry penalties. Chiles said the goals of the law were “creating a greater deterrent to alien drug traffickers who are considering illegal entry into the United States” and to “give law enforcement authorities a broader arena for prosecuting the drug offender.”67133 Cong. Rec. at S8772.

Several other legislative changes sponsored by Florida congressmen in the early 1990s also made § 1326 more punitive. In 1994, Representative McCollum successfully advocated an additional hike in the maximum sentences for unlawful reentry.68See 139 Cong. Rec. E749–50 (Mar. 24, 1993) (remarks of Rep. McCollum proposing increase in maximum penalties); Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994, Pub. L. No. 103-322, § 130004, 108 Stat. 1796, at 2023 (1994) (enacting Rep. McCollum’s proposal). His amendment increased the maximum penalty to ten years for a defendant deported after a felony conviction, and to twenty years for a defendant deported after an aggravated felony conviction.69These are still the maximum penalties today. See 8 U.S.C. § 1326. In addition, Representative McCollum and Senator Graham successfully sponsored several amendments that expanded the definition of “aggravated felony” to include a significantly longer list of crimes, many of them less serious.70See 139 Cong. Rec. E749–50 (Mar. 24, 1993) (remarks of Rep. McCollum proposing to expand the definition of aggravated felony); Immigration and Nationality Technical Corrections Act of 1994, Pub. L. No. 103-416, § 222(a), 108 Stat. 4305, 4320-21 (1994) (enacting Rep. McCollum’s proposal); 136 Cong. Rec. S17117-18 (Oct. 26, 1990) (remarks of Sen. Graham proposing to expand the definition of aggravated felony); Immigration Act of 1990, Pub. L. No. 101-649, § 501, 104 Stat. 4978, 5048 (Nov. 29, 1990) (enacting Sen. Graham’s proposal); see also Kang Affidavit, supra note 43, at 50–54, 74–80. Senator Graham also co-sponsored a provision that would have required the U.S. Sentencing Commission to increase unlawful reentry sentences for people deported after aggravated felony convictions.71135 Cong. Rec. S23608 (daily ed. Oct. 5, 1989). The proposal called on the Commission to “assign[] an offense level . . . that constitutes a meaningful deterrence to the commission of such offense.”72Id. Graham added this provision to Senate Bill 1711, titled “Implementing the President’s 1989 National Drug Control Strategy,” which passed in the Senate but did not ultimately become law.73Implementing the President’s 1989 National Drug Control Strategy, S. 1711, 101st Cong (1989–1990). A prosecutor testifying before a congressional subcommittee later described Graham’s proposal as “a ‘sense of the Congress’ recommendation to the Federal Sentencing Commission that would upgrade the penalty for an aggravated criminal felon who after conviction returns to the United States.”74Criminal Aliens: Hearing Before the Subcomm. on Immigr., Refugees, and Int’l Law of the H. Comm. on the Judiciary, 101st Cong. 1, 120 (1989) (statement of John Fried, Chief of the Trial Division, Manhattan District Attorney’s Office). Like Senator Chiles, Senator Graham and Representative McCollum were both focused on indulging Florida’s anti-refugee backlash.75See Stephens, supra note 44; Kang Affidavit, supra note 43 at 24–54. They made unlawful reentry punishments harsher in response to the perceived immigrant crime wave in their home state. As the next Section will show, these three politicians’ efforts had enormous consequences for unlawful reentry sentencing.

B.  Writing and Rewriting the Reentry Guidelines

In 1984, Congress enacted the Sentencing Reform Act and created the United States Sentencing Commission.76Sentencing Reform Act of 1984, Pub. L. No. 98-473, 98 Stat. 1987 (1984). Three years later, the Commission published the first version of the United States Sentencing Guidelines.77Guidelines Manual, supra note 11 (1987). The main purpose of these new Guidelines was to reduce sentencing disparities between judges.78See Stephen Breyer, The Federal Sentencing Guidelines and the Key Compromises upon Which They Rest, 17 Hofstra L. Rev. 1, 4–6 (1988); Kate Stith & Steve Y. Koh, The Politics of Sentencing Reform: The Legislative History of the Federal Sentencing Guidelines, 28 Wake Forest L. Rev. 223, 225–36 (1993); Eric Fish, Sentencing and Interbranch Dialogue, 105 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 549, 561–62 (2015). They created a complex formula that takes facts about the defendant’s crime and past convictions as inputs, quantifies them into points,

and produces a sentencing range that judges were (until 2005) required to follow.79See Stith & Koh, supra note 79, at 269–70.

The Guidelines’ sentencing ranges are arrayed on a two-dimensional six by forty-three cell grid called the “Sentencing Table.”80See infra Appendix. The Sentencing Table’s Y-axis ranges from one to forty-three, and a defendant’s level is determined by facts about the current crime. Each crime is given a “base offense level” of a certain number of points, for example eight points for unlawful entry and thirteen points for escaping from prison.81Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2P1.1(a)(1) (2023); id. at § 2L1.2(a). Additional points are then added (or subtracted) for “specific offense characteristics,” which are facts particular to the defendant’s crime. If someone escaping from prison uses or threatens to use force, for example, they get five additional points.82Id. at § 2P1.1(b)(1). The Sentencing Table’s X-axis provides the defendant’s “criminal history category,” which ranges from category I to category VI. Where a defendant lands on this dimension is determined by the number, severity, and recency of their past convictions.83Id. at § 4A1.1. The Guidelines thus take facts about the defendant’s current case and facts about their criminal history, plug those facts into two distinct formulas, and map the resulting numbers onto a two-dimensional grid to produce a sentence range.84See Sarah French Russell, Rethinking Recidivist Enhancements: The Role of Prior Drug Convictions in Federal Sentencing, 43 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 1135, 1144–45 (2010).

When the Guidelines were first promulgated in 1987, a defendant convicted of unlawful reentry received a base offense level of six.85Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2L1.2 (1987). If the defendant had previously “unlawfully entered or remained in the United States,” they received two additional points as a specific offense characteristic.86Id. The maximum offense level for unlawful reentry was thus eight. With eight offense level points, the sentence range varied from zero to six months (for those in criminal history category I) to eighteen to twenty-four months (for those in criminal history category VI).87See infra Appendix. For those with just 6 points (meaning no 2-point enhancement), the range went from 0–6 months in CHC I to 12–18 months in CHC VI. According to the Sentencing Commission, this initial version of the reentry guideline was designed to reflect then-existing sentencing norms for immigration cases.88The Commission conducted an empirical study showing that in 1987, defendants convicted of immigration crimes (including but not limited to unlawful reentry) served an average of 5.7 months in custody. U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Supplementary Report on the Initial Sentencing Guidelines and Policy Statements 69 (1987). The Commission estimated that prior to the Guidelines, unlawful reentry defendants were sentenced as though they had 7 offense level points. Id. at 34. A later analysis by the Commission concluded that the original immigration guidelines “did not deviate substantially from past practice.” U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Fifteen Years of Guideline Sentencing 65 (2004). See also Breyer, supra note 79, at 17–18 (explaining the Commission’s decision to use past practice to inform the initial Guidelines); Doug Keller, Why the Prior Conviction Sentencing Enhancements in Illegal Re-Entry Cases Are Unjust and Unjustified (and Unreasonable Too), 51 B.C. L. Rev. 719, 729–30 (2010) (describing the creation of the initial reentry guideline). A year later, in 1988, the Commission wrote a new version of this guideline that simply had a base offense level of eight, with no specific offense characteristics.89Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2L1.2 (1988).

In 1989, the reentry guideline was amended to double-count defendants’ criminal history. The Commission added a four-point enhancement applying to any defendant who “previously was deported after sustaining a conviction for a felony.”90Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2L1.2(b)(1) (1989). The enhancement excluded any felony “involving violation of the immigration laws.” This was the first time that the Commission created a specific offense enhancement for simply having a past conviction.91Keller, supra note 89, at 730. The Commission did also create a two-level enhancement in the immigrant smuggling guideline for people who had committed the same crime previously, but this enhancement was limited to defendants who had committed the exact same crime previously. Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2L1.1(a)(2) (1989). This enhancement applied regardless of the prior conviction’s age—a felony from fifty years ago would still trigger the four-point enhancement.92See Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2L1.1(a)(2) (1989); see also United States v. Olmos-Esparza, 484 F.3d 1111, 1116 (9th Cir. 2007). By contrast, the Guidelines’ standard criminal history score formula stops counting convictions after ten or fifteen years (depending on the prior sentence length).93Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 4A1.1 (1989). For criminal history score, the Guidelines count convictions with sentences that were imposed within the last ten years, unless the sentence was more than one year and one month. Convictions with a sentence over one year and one month count if the defendant was incarcerated within the last fifteen years. Id.

The Commission enacted this enhancement without conducting any studies or hearings, and without providing any apparent explanation for the change.94There is some very basic enactment history in the minutes for a meeting of the Commission in April 1989. These contain the following entry: “Motion made by Commissioner Breyer to adopt staff proposal of (4) level increase, amended to include departure for violent felony; seconded by Commissioner Nagel. Passed unanimously.” U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Minutes of April 18 & 19, 1989 Commission Business Meeting, at 4; see also Keller, supra note 89, at 730–31. The Commission’s commentary only notes that “this specific offense characteristic is in addition to, and not in lieu of, criminal history points added for the prior sentence.”95Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at app. C at C.111 (1989) (describing amendment 193). The enhancement closely tracks the language in Senator Chiles’s 1988 amendment to § 1326, which increased the maximum penalty to five years for any defendant “whose deportation was subsequent to a conviction for commission of a felony.”96Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988, Pub. L. No. 100-690, § 7345(a)(2), 102 Stat. 4181, 4471. The Guidelines’ commentary also mentions aggravated felonies, and suggests that “an upward departure may be warranted” in cases involving “a defendant previously deported after sustaining a conviction for an aggravated felony.”97Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2L1.2 cmt. 3 (1989). The four-point enhancement in the 1989 Guidelines Manual is thus properly seen as a response to Senator Chiles’s amendment increasing the maximum sentences for defendants with prior felonies and aggravated felonies.98See id. at § I.A.

In 1991, the Commission added a much larger sixteen-point enhancement for any defendant who “previously was deported after a conviction for an aggravated felony.”99Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at § 2L1.2(b)(2) (1991). This was a very punitive change. For a reentry defendant in criminal history category I, it brought the sentencing range from zero to six months to fifty-one to sixty-three months.100See infra Appendix (moving from 8 points to 24 points). For a defendant in criminal history category VI, the enhancement would take them from 18 to 24 months to 100 to 125 months. For a defendant in category VI, it created a range of one hundred to one hundred twenty-five months. With this new enhancement, a single prior felony conviction for drug trafficking (or any other aggravated felony) would add multiple years to a defendant’s reentry sentence. This amendment was adopted a little over a year after Senator Graham’s proposal to mandate that the Commission increase penalties for reentry after an aggravated felony.101135 Cong. Rec. S23608 (daily ed. Oct. 5, 1989). While the Commission’s records do not reference Graham’s amendment, it was likely a motivating factor.102Cf. Implementing the President’s 1989 National Drug Control Strategy, S. 1711, 101st Cong. (1989) (prosecutor testifying before a congressional committee that Sen. Graham’s proposal reflected the views of Congress).

The Commission conducted hearings in 1991 on various proposed Guidelines amendments, including the enhancement for a prior aggravated felony.103U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Transcript of Public Hearing on Proposed Amendments to the Sentencing Guidelines at 31–32 (Mar. 5, 1991) [hereinafter Public Hearing]. At those hearings, a federal prosecutor named Joe Brown testified on behalf of the Department of Justice.104Joe B. Brown, U.S. Attorney, Middle District of Tennessee, Statement before the United States Sentencing Commission Concerning Proposed Sentencing Guidelines Amendments (Mar. 5, 1991). Mr. Brown was the chairman of the Attorney General’s Subcommittee on Sentencing Guidelines. Brown recommended that the Commission adopt a twenty-point enhancement for defendants deported after committing an aggravated felony.105Id. at 7–8. He connected this proposed enhancement to Senator Chiles’s amendment, noting that “[a]n increased penalty of this magnitude—two years to [fifteen] years—and limited to particularly defined offenses must, in our view, be reflected in the sentencing guidelines if the will of Congress is to be effectuated.”106Id. at 8. Brown also emphasized the need to deter immigrant drug dealers, claiming that “[i]n the ordinary case, an alien drug dealer who illegally returns to the United States to practice his trade will continue this pattern of conduct until there is a substantial disincentive to do so.”107Id. Brown was the only witness to discuss this enhancement at the hearings.108Public Hearing, supra note 104, at 31–32. There were nine witnesses total at the hearing, but only Brown discussed the aggravated felony enhancement to § 2L1.2. His analysis of it was perfunctory, taking up only two pages of the 171-page hearing transcript. By way of comparison, the Commission was simultaneously considering proposals for its corporate crime guidelines.109U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Transcript of Public Hearing on Sentencing Guidelines for Organizational Defendants (Dec. 13, 1990). For those it held a public hearing with fourteen witnesses (including a former attorney general and two assistant attorneys general) that generated a 267-page transcript.110Id.

The Commission conducted no policy analysis to justify the “aggravated felony” enhancement to the reentry guideline.111See Keller, supra note 89, at 734–35; Robert J. McWhirter & Jon M. Sands, Does the Punishment Fit the Crime? A Defense Perspective on Sentencing in Aggravated Felony Re-Entry Cases, 8 Fed. Sent. Rep. 275, 276 (1996); Russell, supra note 85, at 1185–86; see also Public Hearing Before the U.S. Sentencing Commission 30 (Mar. 13, 2008) (testimony of Maureen Franco) (“No empirical study or policy analysis was conducted to justify the 16-level enhancement.”). The Commission’s own staff declined to endorse the enhancement due to a lack of data.112The staff wrote an internal memo looking at seventy-two prior illegal reentry cases in order to gauge the impact of an enhancement for a prior aggravated felony. Memorandum from Carl Ricca & Tracy Leeber, Re: Proposed Amendments to the Immigration Guidelines, at 4 (Mar. 18, 1991). Based on this memo, the senior Commission staff declined to endorse the enhancement due to a lack of good data. Memorandum from John Steer et al., Re: Senior Staff Review of Amendment No. 23 (Mar. 25, 1991) (“In reviewing the attached report of the Immigration Working Group, staff note that the Working Group found only one case involving an aggravated felony. Because of the paucity of case experience and the potentially wide variation in seriousness of prior, aggravated felony convictions, there is not a consensus among senior staff that the proposed amendments . . . are warranted at this time.”). No defense lawyers testified at the public hearing on the merits of the aggravated felony enhancement.113Public Hearing, supra note 104 (containing testimony from three defense lawyers, none of whom discuss the aggravated felony enhancement). Numerous federal prosecutors and law enforcement agents wrote to the Commission urging it to increase the penalties for reentry, with many of them citing Chiles’s law as a justification.114See, e.g., Wayne A. Budd, U.S. Att’y, Mass., Comments on the Sentencing Guidelines (Sept. 1990) (urging a higher base offense level for illegal entry and reentry); Paul Maloney, Deputy Assistant Att’y Gen., Letter to Sentencing Commission, at 5–6 (Sept. 14, 1990) (“[W]e urge that Congress’ 10 year increase in the maximum sentence be recognized by a concomitant increase in the guidelines . . . by 20 levels for all prior ‘aggravated felony’ violations.”); Bart Szafnicki, Senior Special Agent, U.S. Immigration &Naturalization Serv., Letter to Sentencing Commission (Feb. 6, 1991) (calling for a “minimum 16 to 20 level increase” in offense level for aggravated felons based in part on Chiles’s amendment); Letter from H. Allen Moye, Assistant U.S. Att’y, Ga. (Sept. 7, 1990) (advocating increased penalties for aggravated felons based on Congress’s intent); Letter from Dexter Lehtinen, U.S. Att’y, S.D. Fla. (Dec. 3, 1990) (arguing for a 4-level increase for aggravated felons in order to combat Colombian, Haitian, and Jamaican drug traffickers); Letter from Katherine Armentrout, Assistant U.S. Att’y, Md. (Dec. 6, 1990) (advocating an increase so that drug dealing immigrants are punished more harshly). The Sentencing Commission also interviewed practitioners in California and Texas, including INS agents, prosecutors, defense lawyers, and judges, who provided different perspectives on whether illegal reentry should be punished more harshly.115In these interviews the prosecutors and agents advocated longer sentences, while the defense lawyers argued that longer sentences would be arbitrary and wouldn’t deter defendants. See U. S. Sent’g Comm’n, Commissioner Outreach: Immigration Offenses Texas (1990) (on file with author) (interviews with prosecutors, defense lawyers, probation officers, and other practitioners in Texas); Memorandum from Carl Ricca & Tracy Leeber, Re: Proposed Amendments to the Immigration Guidelines, at 6–7 (Mar. 18, 1991) (on file with author) (summarizing comments of prosecutors, defense lawyers, agents, and judges in San Diego and Los Angeles). Ultimately, aside from referencing Mr. Brown’s testimony, the Commission did not explain or justify the aggravated felony enhancement when it was adopted. The Commission enacted Mr. Brown’s proposal, but with sixteen points rather than twenty.116U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Minutes of the April 2, 1991, Business Meeting, at 2–3 (noting passage of the amendment and also incorporating a memorandum from Brown into the record); Guidelines Manual, supra note 11, at app. C at 200, amend. 375 (1991) (describing the new enhancement without providing any explanation for it).

These enhancements made the federal justice system much harsher for undocumented immigrants. They caused the average time in prison for unlawful reentry to more than double from 1991 to 2000, going from fifteen months to over thirty.117Fifteen Years of Guideline Sentencing, supra note 89, at 64–65. The enhancements also helped the government bring many more reentry prosecutions. In 1991 only around 2,000 reentry cases were prosecuted in the federal courts, but by the year 2000 there were nearly 10,000 cases.118Id. at 61. The prior conviction enhancements facilitated this increase by giving federal prosecutors much more punishment leverage to compel plea bargains. And the federal prosecutors who lobbied the Commission for higher reentry guidelines in 1991 were keenly aware that higher guidelines meant more and faster guilty pleas.119See, e.g., Letter from Peter N. Nunez, U.S. Att’y, S.D. Cal., to William Weld, Assistant Att’y Gen., Re: Application of Sentencing Guidelines to Immigration Prosecution (Nov. 3, 1987) (arguing that the DOJ should lobby for higher guidelines in immigrant smuggling cases, because higher guidelines would facilitate a fast-paced “flip flop” guilty plea program, while the incentive to plead guilty quickly would be “considerably weakened” if the guidelines sentences were low). The increased reentry punishments empowered prosecutors to create a fast-paced plea system called “Fast Track.”120See Amy Kimpel, Alienating Criminal Procedure, 37 Geo. Immigr. L.J. 237, 253–59 (2023); Keller, supra note 52, at 107–10; Alan Bersin & Judith Feigin, The Rule of Law at the Margin: Reinventing Prosecution Policy in the Southern District of California, 12 Geo. Immigr. L.J. 285, 300–03 (1997). Under the Fast Track program, reentry defendants who qualified for an enhancement were offered a deal for a charge with a two-year maximum sentence.121Bersin & Feigin, supra note 121, at 300. This deal required them to plead guilty at their first court appearance, waive the right to appeal, and agree to a specific sentence followed by immediate deportation.122Id. (“The conditions for the reduced sentence were that the defendant (1) waive indictment; (2) forego motions; (3) waive a presentence report; (4) stipulate to a particular sentence (usually 24 months); (5) submit to immediate sentencing; (6) waive all sentencing appeals; (7) consent to the entry of an order, issued by an Immigration Judge or officer, removing defendant from the United States upon conclusion of his or her prison term; and (8) waive all appeals of the removal order.”). The stipulated sentence was usually two years, but prosecutors sometimes required sentences of two-and-a-half or four years.123Id.; see also Jane McClellan & Jon Sands, Federal Sentencing Guidelines and the Policy Paradox of Early Disposition Programs: A Primer on “Fast-Track” Sentences, 38 Ariz. St. L.J. 517, 523 (2006). If a defendant rejected this deal and had a prior felony or aggravated felony, then they faced a higher sentence under the mandatory Guidelines.124See McWhirter & Sands, supra note 112, at 276–77. Fast Track thus used punishment leverage provided by the prior conviction enhancements to create a hyper-efficient plea process. The program was started in San Diego, but it spread to other border districts and allowed the massive growth of reentry prosecutions throughout the 1990s.125See Ingrid V. Eagly, Prosecuting Immigration, 104 Nw. U. L. Rev. 1281, 1321–25 (2010) (showing how fast track dramatically increased the number and rapidity of § 1326 prosecutions); Bersin & Feigin, supra note 121, at 302 (“In 1995, the office filed 1,334 criminal alien cases under section 1326 compared with only 240 the year before. In 1996, 1,297 felony re-entry matters were filed under section 1326 and 1,606 cases during 1997. The fast track system allowed this explosion in filings to be accomplished in this area of prosecutorial activity with limited staff increases and, for the most part, without diverting resources from other prosecutive priorities.” (footnote omitted)).

The Commission changed the reentry guideline in 2001 to create a more graduated system of prior conviction enhancements.126See Keller, supra note 89, at 737–42; Russell, supra note 85, at 1185–86. This change was motivated by concern over the proliferation of aggravated felonies. Congress repeatedly expanded the definition of “aggravated felony” over the course of the 1990s.127Omnibus Consolidated Appropriations Act, 1997, Pub. L. No. 104-208, § 321, 110 Stat. 3009, 627–28 (1996); Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act of 1996, Pub. L. No. 104-132, § 440(e), 110 Stat. 1214, 1277–78 (1996); Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994, Pub. L. No. 103-322, § 130004, 108 Stat. 1796, 2026–28 (1994); Immigration and Nationality Technical Corrections Act of 1994, Pub. L. No. 103-416, § 222(a), 108 Stat. 4305, 4320–22 (1994); Immigration Act of 1990, Pub. L. No. 101-649, § 501, 104 Stat. 4978, 5048 (Nov. 29, 1990); see also Keller, supra note 52, at 110. This caused a much larger number of crimes to trigger the sixteen-level enhancement. Initially, the enhancement had been narrowly focused on immigrants who committed murder, drug trafficking, and weapons trafficking.128Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988, Pub. L. No. 100-690, § 7342, 102 Stat. 4181, 4469–70 (codified at 8 U.S.C. § 1101(a)(43) (1988)). But by 2001 the term “aggravated felony” applied to dozens of crimes, including fraud, forgery, burglary, immigrant smuggling, failing to appear for a sentence, crimes designated as “crimes of violence,” and many more.1298 U.S.C.A. § 1101(43) (West, effective Dec. 21, 2000 to Jan. 15, 2002). The list of aggravated felonies consists of twenty one lettered categories, many of which enumerate multiple subcategories. The breadth of this list, combined with the severity of the sixteen-level enhancement, created some palpably unjust case outcomes. Defendants were regularly given much more severe sentences for reentry than they got for the original aggravated felony.130See Keller, supra note 89, at 720–21, 762. And a prior murder triggered the same sixteen-level enhancement as a prior forgery.

Federal judges and defense attorneys criticized the Guidelines for producing such harsh sentences.131See Linda Drazga Maxfield, Aggravated Felonies and § 2L1.2 Immigration Unlawful Reentry Offenders: Simulating the Impacts of Proposed Guideline Amendments, 11 Geo. Mason L. Rev. 527, 530 (2003) (“[T]he wide range of offenses falling within the aggravated felony definition prompted general judicial dissatisfaction, particularly among the southwest border districts. Complaints about the ‘+16’ enhancement were summarized by judges in the Fifth Circuit at a meeting with U.S.S.C. Commissioners and staff in November 2000. A core belief emanated from the meetings: The definition of a ‘prior aggravated felony’ was too broad and captured many relatively minor offenses within guideline § 2L1.2’s ‘+16’ level enhancement.” (footnotes omitted)); Russell, supra note 85, at 1188 n. 272. Judges also departed downward in about forty percent of cases, which the Commission characterized as judges “addressing this problem on an ad hoc basis.”132U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Report to the Congress: Downward Departures from the Federal Sentencing Guidelines 72 (2003); Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C. amend. 632, at 218–19 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2001). The Commission rewrote the reentry guideline in 2001 in order to address these criticisms, and also to reduce the number of downward departures.133Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C., amend. 632, at 218–19 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2001). (“This amendment responds to concerns raised by a number of judges, probation officers, and defense attorneys, particularly in districts along the southwest border between the United States and Mexico, that § 2L1.2 . . . sometimes results in disproportionate penalties because of the 16-level enhancement provided in the guideline for a prior conviction for an aggravated felony. The disproportionate penalties result because the breadth of the definition of ‘aggravated felony’ provided in 8 U.S.C. § 1101(a)(43), which is incorporated into the guideline by reference, means that a defendant who previously was convicted of murder, for example, receives the same 16-level enhancement as a defendant previously convicted of simple assault.”); Report to the Congress, supra note 133, at B-25 (“The amendment of section 2L1.2 arguably is an example of the system working as Congress intended: application of a guideline was resulting in an increased use of departures that, in turn, signaled to the Commission that a potential problem existed and prompted a response by the Commission.”). It created a tiered system of enhancements based on conviction type. Under the new guideline, different types of convictions would trigger enhancements of sixteen, twelve, eight, or four levels.134Guidelines Manual, § 2L1.2(b)(1) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2001) (“Apply the Greatest: If the defendant previously was deported, or unlawfully remained in the United States, after—(A) a conviction for a felony that is (i) a drug trafficking offense for which the sentence imposed exceeded 13 months; (ii) a crime of violence; (iii) a firearms offense; (iv) a child pornography offense; (v) a national security or terrorism offense; (vi) a human trafficking offense; or (vii) an alien smuggling offense committed for profit, increase by 16 levels; (B) a conviction for a felony drug trafficking offense for which the sentence imposed was 13 months or less, increase by 12 levels; (C) a conviction for an aggravated felony, increase by 8 levels; (D) a conviction for any other felony, increase by 4 levels; or (E) three or more convictions for misdemeanors that are crimes of violence or drug trafficking offenses, increase by 4 levels.”). For example, the sixteen-level enhancement was limited to firearms offenses, drug trafficking, crimes of violence, immigrant smuggling offenses, and a few other enumerated crimes.135Id. § 2L1.2(b)(1)(A). Less serious drug trafficking convictions (those with a sentence of thirteen months or less) triggered a twelve-level enhancement.136Id. § 2L1.2(b)(1)(B). The remaining aggravated felonies resulted in only an eight-level enhancement.137Id. § 2L1.2(b)(1)(C). And other felonies still caused a four-level enhancement.138Id. § 2L1.2(b)(1)(D). The Commission also deleted an application note that permitted downward departures if an enhancement was based on a less-serious aggravated felony.139Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2 cmt, n. 5 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2000) (“Aggravated felonies that trigger the adjustment from subsection (b)(1)(A) vary widely. If subsection (b)(1)(A) applies, and (A) the defendant has previously been convicted of only one felony offense; (B) such offense was not a crime of violence or firearms offense; and (C) the term of imprisonment imposed for such offense did not exceed one year, a downward departure may be warranted based on the seriousness of the aggravated felony.”).

While the 2001 amendment made the reentry guideline somewhat less harsh, it still produced clear injustices. Relatively minor nonviolent crimes, like immigrant smuggling or low-level drug trafficking, triggered large twelve- or sixteen-point enhancements. And there were still no time limits, so crimes from several decades ago would count for the enhancements. The federal defense bar criticized these features of the guideline in letters and testimony before the Commission.140See, e.g., Public Hearing Before the U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, San Diego, Cal., at 86–91,94–96 (Mar. 6, 2006) (testimony of federal defenders Reuben Cahn and Jon Sands); Public Hearing Before the U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Washington, D.C., at 30 (Mar. 13, 2008) (testimony of federal defender Maureen Franco); Letter from Jon M. Sands, Fed. Pub. Def., Dist. of Arizona et al., to the U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Comments on Proposed Amendments to the Sentencing Guidelines (Mar. 6, 2008); Letter from Jon M. Sands, Fed. Pub. Def., Dist. of Arizona, et al., to the U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Comments on Proposed Amendments to the Sentencing Guidelines (Mar. 21, 2008). And in 2005, the Supreme Court declared in United States v. Booker that the Sentencing Guidelines were no longer mandatory.141United States v. Booker, 543 U.S. 220, 245 (2005). Federal judges could thus sentence defendants outside of the Guidelines range, through what became known as Booker variances. Judges took advantage of this new power to vary downward in illegal reentry cases in which the Guidelines were especially harsh.142See, e.g., United States v. Salazar-Hernandez, 431 F. Supp. 2d 931, 933–934 (E.D. Wis. 2006); United States v. Carballo-Arguelles, 446 F. Supp. 2d 742 (E.D. Mich. 2006); United States v. Santos-Nuez, No. 05 Cr. 1232 (RWS), 2006 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 32493, at *17 (S.D.N.Y. May 22, 2006); United States v. Santos, 406 F. Supp. 2d 320, 328 (S.D.N.Y. 2005); United States v. Zapata-Trevino, 378 F. Supp. 2d 1321, 1327 (D.N.M. 2005); United States v. Perez-Nunez, 368 F. Supp. 2d 1265, 1269–70 (D.N.M. 2005); United States v. Galvez-Barrios, 355 F. Supp. 2d 958, 963–64 (E.D. Wis. 2005); Russell, supra note 85, at 1187 n.270 (collecting cases). In one notable case, for example, the Ninth Circuit reversed a within-Guidelines fifty-two-month sentence because it was based on a prior conviction from twenty-five years ago.143United States v. Amezcua-Vasquez, 567 F.3d 1050, 1055–56 (9th Cir. 2009). From 2012 to 2016, about twenty-five percent of twelve-level and thirty-five percent of sixteen-level enhancement cases received below-Guideline sentences.144See The Impact of the 2016 Guideline Amendment, supra note 5, at 10 (showing that +12 enhancement cases got a downward departure or variance 25.8% of the time, and +16 enhancement got a downward departure or variance 36.2% of the time (excluding fast track and substantial assistance departures)). The Commission characterized this as an unusually high rate.145Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C., at 158 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016) (“The Commission’s data shows an unusually high rate of downward variances and departures from the guideline for such defendants.”).

Federal judges and the Department of Justice also criticized the post-2001 reentry guideline for requiring use of the “categorical approach.”146Id. at 155 (“[T]he Commission has received significant comment over several years from courts and stakeholders that the ‘categorical approach’ used to determine the particular level of enhancement under the existing guideline is overly complex and resource-intensive and often leads to litigation and uncertainty.”). Under that version of the guideline, the key question was whether a defendant’s prior conviction matched one of the enumerated crime categories triggering an enhancement. These categories included “crime of violence,” “firearms offense,” “drug trafficking offense,” “aggravated felony,” and more.147Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(1) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2001). The categorical approach requires lawyers and judges to look at the statutory elements of a conviction, compare them to the generic federal version of the enumerated crime category, and determine whether the two match.148See Taylor v. United States, 495 U.S. 575, 602 (1990). Many judges dislike the categorical approach because it raises difficult legal questions, creates additional litigation, and produces non-uniform results across different states.149See, e.g., Sheldon A. Evans, Categorical Nonuniformity, 120 Colum. L. Rev. 1771, 1796–97 n. 167–73 (2020) (collecting judicial complaints about the categorical approach); Eric S. Fish, The Paradox of Criminal History, 42 Cardozo L. Rev. 1373, 1434 n. 287 (2021) (same). And federal prosecutors repeatedly complained about the categorical approach at public hearings before the Commission, arguing that it produces arbitrary results and unnecessary litigation.150See Diane J. Humetewa, U.S. Att’y, Dist. of Ariz., Testimony Before the U.S. Sent’g Comm’n (Mar. 13, 2008), at 21 (“Reported court decisions are replete with examples in which the categorical analysis has led to counter-intuitive, if not capricious results in some cases, allowing bad actors to avoid appropriate punishment on seemingly technical grounds.”); Johnny K. Sutton, U.S. Att’y, W. Dist. of Tex., Before the U.S. Sent’g Comm’n (Mar. 6, 2006), at 70 (“In addition, the categorical analysis has sparked a seemingly endless wave of litigation in the trial and appellate courts. Eliminating the need for this analysis would greatly reduce the workload for the participants in the sentencing process and improve the efficiency and reliability of sentencing determinations.”).

In 2016, the Commission rewrote the reentry guideline to address these criticisms.151Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C., at 155 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016) (“In considering this amendment, the Commission was informed by . . . extensive public testimony and public comment, in particular from judges from the southwest border districts where the majority of illegal reentry prosecutions occur.”). It made four major changes. First, the Commission keyed enhancements to the sentence imposed for the prior crime rather than the category of crime. This cut out the categorical approach. Under the new system, defendants receive the largest of a ten-, eight-, six-, or four-level enhancement depending on the length of the sentence imposed for a prior felony.152Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(2). In designing these enhancements, the Commission tried to approximate the enhancements previously imposed under the 2001 Guidelines for various kinds of prior convictions.153Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C., at 155 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016) (“The Commission’s data analysis of offenders’ prior felony convictions showed that the more serious types of offenses, such as drug-trafficking offenses, crimes of violence, and sex offenses, tended to receive sentences of imprisonment of two years or more, while the less serious felony offenses, such as felony theft or drug possession, tended to receive much shorter sentences. The sentence-length benchmarks in (b)(2) are based on this data.”); see also Humetewa, supra note 151, at 12 (“[I]n fact the Commission’s data indicates that under Option 3 overall sentences would remain about the same.”). Second, the Commission added a new, second enhancement for a felony committed after the first deportation.154Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(3). Prior versions of the guideline had only enhanced reentry sentences for felonies committed before the defendant was deported. This reflected Senator Chiles’s amendment, which only increased the maximum sentence for defendants whose removal was “subsequent to” a felony (or aggravated felony) conviction.1558 U.S.C. § 1326(b). The Commission reasoned that it was arbitrary to enhance a sentence for pre-deportation crimes but not post-deportation crimes, so it added a second enhancement covering the latter.156Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C. at 155–57 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016). Third, the Commission introduced time limits for the criminal history enhancements.157Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2 cmt. n.5 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016). These time limits are the same as those for the normal criminal history score calculation—sentences of thirteen months or less count until ten years after imposition, and sentences of over thirteen months count until fifteen years after release from custody.158Id. § 4A1.2(c). Fourth, the Commission added a new four-level enhancement for having been previously convicted of illegal reentry.159Id. § 2L1.2(b)(1)(A).

This new version of the reentry guideline mirrors the Sentencing Guidelines’ general criminal history calculation,160See Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C., at 156 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016) (The new enhancements are “similar to how Chapter Four of the Guidelines Manual determines a defendant’s criminal history score based on his or her prior convictions”). adding up to two additional (often much larger) prior conviction enhancements on top of it.161For example, a five-year sentence would move a defendant up only one criminal history category. That usually means just a few additional months. However, under the new reentry guidelines, it will move a defendant up 10 offense levels. That means multiple additional years. See id. This means reentry defendants now have their criminal history counted against them twice in two separate formulas, both based on prior sentence length. Other federal defendants are subjected to only one formula. The 2016 changes significantly lowered the amount of sentencing litigation in reentry cases, because they ended the use of the categorical approach.162See The Impact of the 2016 Guideline Amendment, supra note 5, at 3 (“After Amendment 802, the number of opinions on § 2L1.2 appeals decreased by 90 percent, from 239 in fiscal year 2017 to 24 in fiscal year 2021.”). They also somewhat lowered the average reentry sentence.163Id. at 16. But some defendants—namely those with a felony both before and after their first deportation—receive much higher sentences under the new guideline.164See id. at 11. These changes did not seem to affect judges’ overall rate of downward variance, which has remained around eleven percent.165Id. at 9 (showing that the overall variance rate stayed between 9% and 12% from 2012 to 2021). This is distinct from the higher variance rate for the subset of defendants with large enhancements. See id. at 11; supra note 141 and accompanying text. That is, notably, the lowest variance rate for all major categories of federal crime.166See, e.g., U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Sourcebook of Federal Sentencing Statistics, at Table 31 (2023) (This table listing 30 categories of federal crime and shows the rate of sentencing variances in FY 2023. Immigration crimes, the vast majority of which are unlawful reentry, had the second lowest variance rate at 13%. The only lower rate was simple drug possession at 8.9%, but only 124 drug possession cases were brought that year. By contrast, drug trafficking cases had a variance rate of 41.1%, child pornography a rate of 59.6%, and money laundering a rate of 41.7%.).

In sum, the reentry guideline has transformed repeatedly over three decades. The 1991 amendment reflected Senator Chiles’s (and Florida’s) panic over a purported wave of Haitian drug traffickers. It added sixteen levels for defendants deported after murder, drug trafficking, or weapons trafficking convictions. As Congress expanded the definition of “aggravated felony” over the 1990s to include a long list of crimes, the sixteen-level enhancement became obviously unjust in many cases. But rather than pare the guideline down, the Commission expanded it in 2001 to create graduated enhancements for many types of prior crime. Judicial, prosecutorial, and defense bar dissatisfaction with that version of the guideline caused the Commission to amend it again in 2016. The new version focuses on the length of prior sentences and adds an additional enhancement for post-deportation convictions. The reentry guideline has thus, in a process of preservation through transformation, morphed into a general criminal history enhancement that applies only to undocumented immigrants.167Cf. Jennifer M. Chacón, Producing Liminal Legality, 92 Denver U. L. Rev. 709, 763 (2015) (observing a similar dynamic in the civil immigration system’s creation of liminal legal statuses); Reva B. Siegel, “The Rule of Love”: Wife Beating as Prerogative and Privacy, 105 Yale L.J. 2117, 2119 (1996) (observing a similar dynamic, and coining the phrase “preservation through transformation,” in the context of domestic violence assault law). The Commission has yet to conduct any studies or publish any reports explaining why reentry defendants should be doubly punished for past crimes.168See Keller, supra note 89, at 749–51; McWhirter & Sands, supra note 112, at 276; Russell, supra note 85, at 1185–86; United States v. Osorto, 995 F.3d 801, 827–28 (11th Cir. 2021) (Martin, J., dissenting); United States v. Galvez-Barrios, 355 F. Supp. 2d 958, 962 (E.D. Wis. 2005).

C.  The First Step Act and Trump-Era Immigration Politics

Until 1984, federal prisoners were eligible for parole.169On the history of federal parole and the transition to a supervised release/good time credit system, see Jacob Schuman, Supervised Release Is Not Parole, 53 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 587, 593–607 (2020). They could be released at the discretion of the United States Parole Board after serving at least one-third of their sentence. Under this system, the average federal prisoner served only forty-five percent of their sentence.170See Bureau of Just. Stat., U.S. Dep’t of Just., Historical Corrections Statistics in the United States, 1850–1984, at 163 tbl 6–17 (1986) (showing that in 1970 a federal prisoner served on average 51% of their sentence at first release, in 1979 it was 48%, and in 1983 it was 45%). But Congress abolished federal parole in 1984, through the same law that created the Sentencing Commission.171Sentencing Reform Act of 1984, Pub. L. No. 98-473, 98 Stat. 1987 (1984) (codified as amended at 18 U.S.C. §§ 3551–3742). Congress replaced parole with a much less generous system of “good time” credits. Under this system, prisoners can now earn up to fifty-four days off for each year in prison.17218 U.S.C. § 3624(b)(1). This means that, barring any other reductions, they must spend at least eighty-five percent of their sentences in prison.

The end of parole thus required federal prisoners to serve a much higher portion of their sentences. That did not change until 2018, when Congress enacted the First Step Act.173First Step Act of 2018, Pub. L. No. 115-391, 132 Stat. 5194 (codified at 18 U.S.C. § 3632). The First Step Act created a new system of “earned time” credits that further reduce a prisoner’s time in custody. Under this system, federal inmates are evaluated by a prison official to determine what kinds of in-custody programs they should participate in.17418 U.S.C. § 3632(a)–(b) (statutory mandate to develop a “risk and needs assessment” system); Fed. Bureau of Prisons, U.S. Dep’t of Just., Program Statement No. 5400.01, First Step Act Needs Assessment, (June 25, 2021) (outlining the risk and need assessment procedures). Such programs include, for example, prison work assignments, substance abuse treatment, psychological treatment, job training, and formal schooling.175Fed. Bureau of Prisons, U.S. Dep’t of Just., Program Statement No. 5400.01, First Step Act Needs Assessment, (June 25, 2021) at 3–4. As long as an eligible prisoner does not refuse to participate in these programs, they will receive ten days off of their prison sentence for every thirty days in custody.176See 18 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(A)(i); Fed. Bureau of Prisons, U.S. Dep’t of Just., Program Statement No. 5410.01, First Step Act of 2018 – Time Credits: Procedures for Implementation of 18 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4), at 4–5, 16 (Nov. 18, 2022) (an inmate is “in earning status” so long as he or she “[h]as not opted out or refused to participate in any required program”). Prisoners designated as “low” or “minimum” recidivism risks (fifty-five percent of federal prisoners) receive an additional five days off for every thirty days in custody.17718 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(A)(ii); see Dep’t of Just., First Step Act Ann. Rep. 18 (2024) (showing 12.06% of inmates at “minimum” and 42.67% at “low” recidivism risk level as of January 31, 2024). “Low” and “minimum” risk prisoners also have their first year of earned time credit count toward early release from custody.17818 U.S.C. § 3624(g); FSA Time Credits Final Rule, 87 Fed. Reg. 2705, 2712 (Jan. 19, 2022) (to be codified at 28 C.F.R. pts. 523, 541). All other credit counts toward release into either home confinement or a halfway house.17918 U.S.C. § 3624(g)(2). Since halfway houses are designed for shorter stays to transition people out of prison, most of that time will go toward home confinement.180See Memorandum from Blake R. Davis, Assistant Dir., Corr. Programs Div., Fed. Bureau of Prisons to Reg’l Dirs., Wardens, and Residential Reentry Managers, Guidance for Home Confinement and Residential Reentry Center Placements, at 5–6 (May 24, 2013) (directing halfway house staff to conserve resources by placing eligible inmates in home confinement). And prisoners can also receive the standard fifty-four days per year of good time credit on top of their earned time credit.18118 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(6). Someone who earns all these credits will spend only about fifty-six percent of their sentence in a federal prison.182If a prisoner gets the full fifty-four days of good time credit per year, and fifteen days of earned time credit for each thirty days served, then for each year of the sentence they will serve only about 207 days in prison. So a ten year sentence would result in just over five and a half years in prison. The First Step Act has thus, at least for some, brought the federal system back to the old parole model where only about half of a sentence was served in prison.

But not all federal prisoners benefit from the First Step Act’s earned time credit system. Unlawful reentry defendants with a prior felony conviction are explicitly excluded.18318 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(D)(lix). So are all immigrants with a prior order of deportation.18418 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(E)(i). And if a deportable immigrant who has not yet been ordered deported seeks to collect earned time credit, the law requires that they be put into deportation proceedings “as early as practicable” during their incarceration.18518 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(E)(ii). Thus, previously deported defendants (including all unlawful reentry defendants) cannot collect earned time credit, and deportable immigrants who try to collect it will swiftly be ordered deported.186Anyone convicted of unlawful reentry is necessarily subject to a deportation order because that is an element of the crime. 8 U.S.C. § 1326. The First Step Act also contains a list of forty-seven other criminal charges that trigger exclusion from earned time credits.18718 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(D)(i)-(lxviii). These are mostly violent crimes, and all of them are much more serious crimes than unlawful reentry. They include, for example, convictions related to explosives, drive-by shootings, arson, child pornography production, terrorism, torture, weapons of mass destruction, sex trafficking, and being a drug kingpin.188Id. Defendants convicted of these crimes, as well as undocumented immigrants, only have access to good time credits. They therefore must serve at least eighty-five percent of their sentences.18918 U.S.C. § 3624(b).

The original version of the First Step Act allowed undocumented immigrants to collect earned time credit.190Formerly Incarcerated Reenter Society Transformed Safely Transitioning Every Person Act, H.R. 5682, 115th Cong. (2018). The bill passed by the House of Representatives in May 2018 did contain a list of conviction-based exclusions, including one for unlawful reentry with a prior felony, but not the broader immigration status exclusion.191Id. at § 3632(d)(4)(D)(xliii). That was added when the bill went to the Senate. Contemporaneous reporting indicates that a bipartisan group of senators agreed to an amended version of the First Step Act in November 2018.192See Nicholas Fandos & Maggie Haberman, Bipartisan Sentencing Overhaul Moves Forward, but Rests on Trump, N.Y. Times (Nov. 12, 2018), https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/12/us/politics/prison-sentencing-criminal-justice-reform.html [https://archive.ph/5ylYw]. This new version included the provision excluding all deportable immigrants from earned time credits.193Id. (providing the text of the proposal); First Step Act of 2018, S. 3747, 115th Cong. § 3632(d)(4)(E) (2018). The senators made that and other changes in negotiations with the White House, especially President Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner who played a significant role pushing for the law.194See Fandos & Haberman, supra note 193 (“Jared Kushner, the president’s son-in-law and the leading voice within the White House for the changes, is likely to brief Mr. Trump on the bill during a broader discussion of legislative priorities with top policy officials on Tuesday.”). The senators’ goal with these changes was to persuade Senate Republicans to support the First Step Act, and ultimately to convince President Trump to sign it into law.195See id.; Press Release, Brennan Center for Justice, New Compromise on Federal Criminal Justice Reform Should Be Priority for Congress (Nov. 13, 2018), https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/new-compromise-federal-criminal-justice-reform-should-be-priority [https://perma.cc/SX7E-LYH3]. Including deportable immigrants was thus a nonstarter. Shon Hopwood, who worked directly with the Trump administration on the law, observed that “providing federal tax money to pay for rehabilitation programs and early release for those who will be deported had no chance of passing in the current Congress.”196Shon Hopwood, The Effort to Reform the Federal Criminal Justice System, Yale L.J. F. 791, 814 n.105 (2019). Hopwood also observed: “[T]he earned-time provision will likely lead to more racial disparities because noncitizens who have been ordered deported, most of whom are Hispanic, were excluded from the ability to earn credits towards early release.” Id.

These negotiations coincided with the first Trump Administration’s most intense period of hostility to Latin American immigration. In April 2018, shortly before the House passed its version of the First Step Act, President Trump made a series of posts on Twitter warning about immigrant caravans from Latin America. He wrote in one post, for example, that “Honduras, Mexico and many other countries that the U.S. is very generous to, sends many of their people to our country through our WEAK IMMIGRATION POLICIES. Caravans are heading here. Must pass tough laws and build the WALL.”197Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump), X, (formerly Twitter) (Apr. 2, 2018, 8:12 PM), https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump/status/980961086546632705 [https://perma.cc/5GH6-89P5]. Trump also gave a speech claiming that immigrants in these caravans were committing widespread rapes.198Vivian Salama, Trump Claims Women ’Are Raped at Levels Never Seen Before’ During Immigrant Caravan, NBC News (Apr. 5, 2018, 4:02 PM), https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/whitehouse/trump-claims-women-immigrant-caravan-being-raped-levels-never-seen-n863061 [https://perma.cc/39EW-TLSQ]. Shortly after Trump’s posts, Attorney General Jeff Sessions announced a “zero tolerance” policy toward undocumented immigration.199See Memorandum from Att’y Gen. Jeff Sessions to Fed. Prosecutors Along the Sw. Border, Zero-Tolerance for Offenses Under 8 U.S.C. § 1325(a) (Apr. 6, 2018) (on file with author). This new policy caused an enormous increase in prosecutions for unlawful entry and unlawful reentry.200See Am. Immigr. Council, Prosecuting People for Coming to the United States 4–5 (2021); Eric S. Fish, Resisting Mass Immigrant Prosecutions, 133 Yale L.J. 1884, 1905–1919 (2024). That increase continued through 2018 and 2019.201Am. Immigr. Council, supra note 201. The Trump Administration also, as part of its 2018 “zero tolerance” policy, systematically separated children from their parents at the border so that the parents could be prosecuted.202See Caitlin Dickerson, The Secret History of the U.S. Government’s Family-Separation Policy, The Atlantic (Aug. 7, 2022), https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2022/09/trump-administration-family-separation-policy-immigration/670604 [https://perma.cc/3WPA3PWD]. This family separation policy sparked a nationwide protest movement against the administration’s immigration policies.203See Alexandra Yoon-Hendricks & Zoe Greenberg, Protests Across U.S. Call for End to Migrant Family Separations, N.Y. Times ( June 30, 2018), https://web.archive.org/web/20250911155147/https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/30/us/politics/trump-protests-family-separation.html. And in November 2018, while the First Step Act compromise was being negotiated, President Trump issued an executive order categorically denying asylum to immigrants who entered unlawfully.204See Michael D. Shear & Eileen Sullivan, Trump Suspends Some Asylum Rights, Calling Illegal Immigration ‘a Crisis,’ N.Y. Times (Nov. 9, 2018), https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/09/us/politics/trump-asylum-seekers-executive-order.html [https://perma.cc/9DWN-JPW4 ]. In signing the order Trump declared, “The continuing and threatened mass migration of aliens with no basis for admission into the United States through our southern border has precipitated a crisis and undermines the integrity of our borders.”205Id. This larger context of anti-immigrant policy and rhetoric explains why the Senate, in negotiations with the White House, excluded deportable immigrants from the new earned time credit system.

Immigrants’ rights groups and some Democratic House members opposed the First Step Act’s exclusion of undocumented immigrants. A coalition of activist groups including the NAACP, the ACLU, and the National Immigrant Justice Center raised concerns about the law in letters and press releases.206See H.R. Rep No. 115-699, 115th Cong. 2d Sess., at 101–02 (2018); The Leadership Conference to Representative, Vote “No” on the First Step Act, Letter to Congress (May 21, 2018), https://civilrightsdocs.info/pdf/policy/letters/2018/Short_Oppose%20FIRST%20STEP%20Act_5.21.18_FINAL.pdf. This coalition cited, among other problems, that the law “excludes from its reforms most undocumented immigrants,” that it thereby “further criminalizes migration,” and that these exclusions “could also have a disparate impact on racial minorities.”207Formerly Incarcerated Reenter Society Transformed Safely Transitioning Every Person Act, H.R. 5682, 115th Cong. (2018), at 102. A coalition of immigration-related nonprofits expressed concern that the law “sets the precedent that immigrants are outside the scope of people who should benefit from criminal justice reform.”208Nat’l Immigr. Project, Immigrant Legal Res. Ctr., Nat’l Immigrant Just. Ctr., Immigrant Def. Project & Immigrant just. Network, Concerns Over the First Step Act: Immigration Analysis (2018), https://www.ilrc.org/sites/default/files/resources/concern_first_step_act-20181217.pdf. And in the House debates concerning the First Step Act, several Democratic Representatives highlighted its discriminatory impact on immigrants. Representative Pramila Jayapal noted that she was “very concerned about language in the bill that excludes immigrants from being eligible for time credits.”209164 Cong. Rec. H4314 (daily ed. May 22, 2018) (statement of Rep. Pramila Jayapal). And Representative Jerrold Nadler observed that “the new incentive system for pre-release custody credits could exacerbate racial biases,” because it “excludes large categories of inmates based on convictions for various offenses and on immigration status.”210164 Cong. Rec. H4311 (daily ed. May 22, 2018) (statement of Rep. Nadler).

The First Step Act enacted a generous new earned time credit system that, for those who qualify, can reduce a sentence by up to one-third. But the law also categorically excluded undocumented immigrants, keeping them trapped in a much more punitive system allowing only good time credits. That exclusion was crafted during the first Trump Administration’s most intense period of hostility toward Latin American immigration. And activists and legislators at the time pointed out its discriminatory consequences.

II.  The Discrimination Problem

These policies create two separate and unequal federal sentencing systems: one system for U.S. citizens and another system for deported immigrants. In the citizens’ system, criminal history is counted once; in the immigrants’ system, it is counted twice. In the citizens’ system you can serve up to forty-five percent of your sentence out of prison, in the immigrants’ system you can serve only fifteen percent. This separate system for immigrants is not small. Since 2010, about one-third of all federal cases have been unlawful reentry prosecutions.211Supra note 2 and accompanying text. And over ninety-nine percent of the defendants in those cases have been Latin American.212U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, supra note 4. Federal sentencing law thus creates a caste structure in which undocumented immigrants from Latin America are relegated to a punishment underclass. This Part makes the straightforward observation that this is discriminatory. It does so by comparing these two sentencing systems in detail. It shows that federal sentencing law discriminates facially by immigration status, and in effect by race and ethnicity.213Latin American immigrants in the U.S. come from a wide variety of ethnic, linguistic, and cultural backgrounds. The question of their treatment as a distinct ethnic/racial group in the United States has a complex history. See, e.g., Laura E. Gómez, Inventing Latinos: A New Story of American Racism 3 (2020). I have no intention of endorsing the ultimate validity of “race” as a concept here. My claim is that the federal sentencing regime effectively singles out a category of defendants, Latin American immigrants, who suffer identity-based discrimination in many other domains, and who the U.S. government formally treats as belonging to a distinct racial/ethnic group. See, e.g., Notice of Decision: Revisions to OMB’s Statistical Policy Directive No. 15, 89 Fed. Reg. 22182 (Mar. 29, 2024) (adding the “Hispanic” and “Latino” categories on the U.S. census into a general racial/ethnic identity question); cf. Hernandez v. Texas, 347 U.S. 475, 482 (1954) (holding that Mexican Americans are a protected class under the Equal Protection Clause); Jenny Rivera, An Equal Protection Standard for National Origin Subclassifications: The Context That Matters, 82 Wash. L. Rev. 897 (2007). The more complicated issue of constitutionality is explored in Part IV.

A.  Double Counting Criminal History

The unlawful reentry guideline stands alone in basing a defendant’s offense level calculation entirely on their past crimes.214Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). There are three enhancements in the reentry guideline, all focused on past convictions: one of up to ten points for a felony conviction before the first deportation, one of up to ten points for a felony conviction after the first deportation, and one of 4 points for a prior unlawful reentry conviction. Other federal sentencing guidelines focus instead on the facts of the current crime. For drug trafficking, what matters is the amount and type of drugs.215Id. § 2D1.1(c) (2023). For fraud, it is the amount of money lost or stolen.216Id. § 2B1.1(b)(1) (2023). For child pornography distribution, it is the number of images and the ages of the victims, among other factors.217Id. § 2G2.2(b) (2023). But for unlawful reentry, facts about the current crime are not factored in.218A version of the reentry guideline more in line with the rest of the Sentencing Guidelines might, for example, focus on the manner of entry or the number of prior deportations. See, e.g., Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 1987) (original version of the reentry guideline, providing a two-point enhancement for a prior deportation). The only thing that matters is the defendant’s criminal history. The reentry guideline enhances a defendant’s sentence once along the “criminal history category” axis, and a second time along the “specific offense level” axis. Past crimes thus count against a reentry defendant twice in two separate formulas. For nearly all other federal defendants, they count only once.219See United States v. Osorto, 995 F.3d 801, 810 & n. 1 (11th Cir. 2021).

There are a few other places in the Guidelines where a past conviction triggers an increase in the offense level. A couple of guidelines have modest enhancements for defendants who committed the same kind of crime previously.220The reentry guideline also has an enhancement like this, on top of its general criminal history enhancements. Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(1) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023) (4-level increase for a prior felony § 1326 unlawful reentry conviction, and 2-level increase for two or more prior misdemeanor § 1325 unlawful entry convictions). For example, the guidelines for immigrant smuggling, passport fraud, and immigration fraud all contain a two-level enhancement for having been previously convicted of a “felony immigration and nationalization offense.”221Id. §§ 2L1.1(b)(3), § 2L2.1(b)(4), § 2L2.2(b)(2) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). Both enhancements go up to four levels if the defendant was convicted of two immigration and naturalization felonies in two separate previous prosecutions. They do not go higher than four levels. The guideline for adulterating or misbranding food products contains a four-level enhancement for a prior conviction for the same offense.222Id. § 2N2.1(b)(1). And the guideline for domestic violence contains a two-level enhancement for a pattern of “stalking, threatening, harassing, assaulting the same victim,” which includes prior convictions.223Id. § 2A6.2(b)(1)(E) & cmt. 3 (“Prior convictions taken into account under subsection (b)(1)(E) are also counted for purposes of determining criminal history points pursuant to Chapter Four, Part A (Criminal History).”). In addition, the guideline for being a felon in possession of a firearm ties the offense level to the nature and number of prior felony convictions.224Id. § 2K2.1(a) (providing a base offense level of twenty-four if the felon-in-possession crime was committed after two felony convictions of either a “crime of violence” or “controlled substance offense,” twenty for only one such prior conviction, and twelve otherwise); id. § 2K1.3(a) (providing the same criminal history enhancements for the felon-in-possession of explosive materials guideline). And the drug trafficking guideline increases the offense level if both (1) the drugs caused death or serious bodily injury and (2) the defendant has a prior felony drug offense.225Id. § 2D1.1(a)(1)(B)(3) (increasing base offense for certain drug charges to forty-three or thirty, respectively, if both “death or serious bodily injury resulted from the use of the substance” and the defendant has “one or more prior convictions for a felony drug offense”); id. § 2D1.1(a)(1)(B) (increasing base offense for certain drug charges to forty-three if both “death or serious bodily injury resulted from the use of the substance” and the defendant has “one or more prior convictions for a serious drug felony or serious violent felony”); see also 21 U.S.C. §§ 841(b)(1)(A)-(B), 960(b)(1)-(2) (providing ten and fifteen-year mandatory minimum sentences for defendants with a prior “serious drug felony or serious violent felony”).

These other criminal history enhancements are much narrower than the reentry enhancements.226There is also a standalone provision in the Sentencing Guidelines, called the “Career Offender” guideline, that applies to any defendant who is (1) convicted of a felony “crime of violence” or “controlled substance offense” and (2) has two prior convictions for a “crime of violence” or a “controlled substance offense.” Guidelines Manual § 4B1.1(U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). This guideline creates an entirely different (and much more severe) offense level calculation for any such defendant, and automatically puts them in criminal history category VI. Id. § 4B1.1(b)-(c). The Career Offender guideline applies to relatively few cases—only 1,351 defendants in 2023, or roughly 2% of federal defendants. U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, supra note 4. It is also mandated by a congressional statute. 28 U.S.C. § 994(h). Because the Career Offender guideline operates outside the normal Guidelines framework, I do not treat it as an analogue to the criminal history enhancements in § 2L1.2 of the Guidelines. They only apply to specific kinds of prior crimes, while the reentry enhancement applies to any prior felony. These other enhancements also have a much closer nexus to the defendant’s current crime. Most of them involve having committed the same kind of crime previously. For the felon-in-possession enhancements, the prior felony is itself an element of the new crime.227In contrast to unlawful reentry, the prior felony in a felon-in-possession case is an essential element that makes the conduct criminal. Compare Rehaif v. United States, 588 U.S. 225, 237 (2019) (holding that in a § 922(g) case defendant’s knowledge of the status that makes possessing a firearm illegal, including being a felon, is an element of the crime), with Almendarez-Torres v. United States, 523 U.S. 224, 246–47 (1998) (concluding that a prior aggravated felony is not an element of § 1326 but merely a “sentencing factor”). See also Keller, supra note 89, at 735–36 (explaining that the felon-in-possession enhancement is much narrower than the unlawful reentry enhancement). And the drug trafficking criminal history enhancements only apply if the drugs caused death or serious bodily injury.228Guidelines Manual § 2D1.1(a) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). In these circumstances, the prior crimes are directly relevant to the defendant’s conduct in the new case. By contrast, the enhancements in the unlawful reentry guideline apply to all criminal history in general, not just related crimes.

The reentry guideline’s criminal history enhancements are also much larger than other comparable enhancements. A single prior felony will get a reentry defendant between four and ten additional offense level points, depending on the sentence length.229Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(2)-(3) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). And this can happen up to twice, once for a felony before the first deportation and once for a felony after it.230Id. Nowhere else in the Guidelines can a defendant get such a high increase for just a single prior conviction. It is thus actually something of an understatement to say that reentry defendants have their convictions counted twice, because the extra enhancement is potentially much more severe than the Guidelines’ normal criminal history calculation. A prior conviction with a five-year sentence, for example, gives a reentry defendant both a one-level increase in their criminal history category and a ten-point increase in their offense level.231Id.; id. § 4A1.1 (2023). This takes a reentry defendant from a zero to six month range to a thirty to thirty-seven month range.232See infra Appendix. This is assuming the defendant starts out with eight offense level points and zero criminal history points, which is the baseline for reentry cases. Other federal defendants starting from the same baseline would only see the one-level criminal history category increase, going from zero to six months to four to ten months.233United States Sentencing Guidelines Manual § 4A1.1 (2023). The most criminal history points you can receive for a prior conviction, no matter how long the sentence, is 3. And 3 points moves you up one criminal history category. Reentry defendants can thus receive multiple additional years in prison due to past crimes that would net other defendants only a few extra months.

These enhancements apply in a significant percentage of reentry cases. According to the U.S. Sentencing Commission’s 2023 data, 43.6% of unlawful reentry defendants received a prior conviction enhancement.234U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, supra note 4. Breaking it down further, 23% of reentry defendants received only a pre-first-deportation criminal history enhancement, 18.2% had only a post-first-deportation enhancement, and 2.3% got both enhancements. The average sentence for unlawful reentry was twelve months in 2023, and since 2012 it has fluctuated between nineteen months and eight months.235Id.; U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Quick Facts: Illegal Reentry Offenses (2012–2022). These are the average sentence lengths since 2012: 2012: 19 months, 2013: 18 months, 2014: 17 months, 2015: 16 months, 2016: 14 months, 2017: 12 months, 2018: 10 months, 2019: 9 months, 2020: 8 months, 2021: 13 months, 2022: 13 months, and 2023: 12 months. There appears to be an inverse relationship between the number of prosecutions and the average sentence length. This may help explain why average sentences went down during the Trump Administration. But reentry defendants with prior convictions receive much longer sentences due to criminal history enhancements. According to the Commission, about 15% of reentry defendants since 2021 received sentences of at least two years, and 1% received sentences of at least five years.236Interactive Data Analyzer, U.S. Sent’g Comm’n https://ida.ussc.gov/analytics/saw.dll?Dashboard [https://archive.ph/qjcmT] (“Distribution of Sentence Length” for defendants sentenced under § 2L1.2 in 2021, 2021, and 2023). At the top of this distribution, hundreds of reentry defendants have gotten more than five years, and some even more than a decade in prison.237Id. (one percent of the 36,416 reported cases for 2021–2023 is 364 cases); see, e.g., United States v. Palomerez-Heredia, No. 23-2160, 2024 U.S. App. LEXIS 12281, at *1–2 (8th Cir. May 22, 2024) (158 month sentence, guideline range 84–105 months); United States v. Martinez, No. 23-50296, 2024 U.S. App. LEXIS 12226, at *1 (5th Cir. May 21, 2024) (54 month within guideline sentence); United States v. Sales, No. 23-12574, 2024 U.S. App. LEXIS 8697, at *6 (11th Cir. Apr. 11, 2024) (70 month within guideline sentence); Segura-Resendez v. United States, No. 3:18-CR-210-L(1), 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 36051, at *3, *8 (N.D. Tex. Feb. 29, 2024) (77 month within guideline sentence); United States v. Molina-Mendoza, No. 22-40732, 2023 U.S. App. LEXIS 34527, at *1 (5th Cir. Dec. 28, 2023) (57 month within guideline sentence); Zuniga v. United States, No. 1:22-CR-825-1, 2023 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 229408, at *4 (S.D. Tex. Dec. 27, 2023) (62 month within guideline sentence); United States v. Alvarez-Espinal, No. 22-1145-CR, 2023 U.S. App. LEXIS 26599, at *1, *3 (2d Cir. Oct. 6, 2023) (64 month sentence, guideline range 70 to 87 months); United States v. Martinez-Rubio, No. 22-10109, 2023 U.S. App. LEXIS 8360, at *2 (5th Cir. Apr. 7, 2023) (120 month sentence, guideline range 84 to 105 months); Rosales-Diaz v. United States, 805 F. App’x 660, 662 (11th Cir. 2020) (120 month sentence, varying upward from guideline range of 77 to 96 months); United States v. Chica-Gutierrez, 833 F. App’x 592, 592 (5th Cir. 2021) (per curiam) (125 month within guideline sentence); United States v. Amaya Benitez, No. 21-5390, 2022 U.S. App. LEXIS 15383, at *6 (6th Cir. June 3, 2022) (68 month sentence, guideline range 100 to 125 months); United States v. Valdez-Cejas, No. 21-10659, 2022 App. LEXIS 21355, at *1, *2 (5th Cir. Aug. 2, 2022) (guidelines range 70–87 months, sentence of 87 months); Gutierrez v. United States, No. SA-20-CR-440-JKP-1, 2023 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 89598, at *3 (W.D. Tex. May 22, 2023) (77 month within guideline sentence); United States v. Cordova-Lopez, 34 F.4th 442, 443 (5th Cir. 2022) (51 month within guideline sentence); United States v. Salamanca, 821 F. App’x 584, 586 (6th Cir. 2020) (130 month sentence, guideline range of 130 to 162 months); United States v. Gomez-Gomez, 841 F. App’x 2, 2 (9th Cir. 2021) (99 month above guidelines sentence); United States v. Gomez-Colin, 823 F. App’x 368, 371 (6th Cir. 2020) (140 month sentence, guidelines range 130 to 162 months); Letter from Marjorie Meyers, Fed. Pub. Def., S. Dist. of Tex. Hon. Carlton W. Reeves, U.S. Dist. J., Chair, U.S. Sent’g Comm’n (July 9, 2024) (describing reentry case with a 130 to 162 month guidelines range in which the judge imposed 48 months).

The reentry guideline is also the only federal sentencing guideline that applies exclusively to noncitizens. It is used for four crimes: 8 U.S.C. § 1326 (unlawful reentry), 8 U.S.C. § 1325(a) (felony unlawful entry), 8 U.S.C. § 1253 (failure to depart after deportation order), and 8 U.S.C. § 1185(a)(1) (violating prescribed entry and departure regulations).238Guidelines Manual app. A at 563 (2023). About 99% of sentences under Guidelines § 2L1.2 are for § 1326 convictions, the other three conviction types are relatively uncommon. Fed. Sentencing of Illegal Reentry: The Impact of the 2016 Guideline Amendment, supra note 5, at 4. By their explicit terms, these four provisions only apply to noncitizens.239All four use the term “alien” to define defendants. 8 U.S.C. §§ 1326(a), 1325(a), 1253(a)(1), 1185(a)(1). There are several other federal entry crimes that do apply to U.S. citizens, including passport fraud, entering the country without inspection, and entering the country through forgery or false statements.240See 8 U.S.C. §§ 1541–44 (passport fraud); 19 U.S.C. § 1459(a) (failure to report arrival or submit to inspection); 8 U.S.C. § 1185(1)(2)–(7) (criminalizing various fraudulent means of entry to and departure from the U.S.). It is especially telling that the Guidelines include § 1185(a)(1) in the reentry guideline, but not § 1185(a)(2)–(7). Subsection (a)(1) only applies to noncitizens, while (a)(2) through (a)(7) also apply to U.S. citizens. But those crimes are not covered by the reentry guideline, and do not receive its extra criminal history enhancement.241The deportation element of the § 2L1.2 enhancements also presumably excludes nearly all U.S. citizens, excepting those who naturalized after being deported. So, for example, a U.S. citizen fugitive who tries to reenter the country with a fake passport will not receive a double enhancement. And arguably comparable crimes that punish illicit presence, such as escaping from federal prison, failing to appear in court, failing to register as a sex offender, and trespassing on federal property, also receive no double enhancement.242See Guidelines Manual §§ 2A3.5, 2B2.3, 2J1.6, 2P1.1 (2023). Only counting criminal history twice in the reentry guideline thus constitutes explicit discrimination by immigration status. And because the reentry guideline is by far the most racially skewed, with over ninety-nine percent of defendants being of Latin American ancestry, doing so also effectively discriminates by race.243Declaration of Michael Light, Brief for Advoc. for Basic Legal Equal. et al. as Amici Curiae Supporting Petitioner at 41, United States v. Rodrigues-Barios, No. 21-50145 (9th Cir. Mar. 21, 2022) Dkt. No. 14 (analyzing the racial distribution of the ten most commonly used guidelines, and showing that §2L1.2 is by far the most disproportionate with 99% “Hispanic” defendants).

The main rationale used to justify these criminal history enhancements is that they deter immigrants with prior convictions from reentering the United States. That was the rationale Senator Graham and Sentencing Commission witness Joe Brown invoked in 1991 when arguing for extra recidivist enhancements.244Statement of Joe B. Brown, supra note 105, at 8; 135 Cong. Rec. S23608 (Oct. 5, 1989); supra note 72 and accompanying text. It is also the primary rationale that federal judges have cited in upholding the enhancements.245See, e.g., United States v. Adeleke, 968 F.2d 1159, 1161 (11th Cir. 1992); United States v. Ruiz-Chairez, 493 F.3d 1089, 1091 (9th Cir. 2007); United States v. Osorto, 995 F.3d 801, 816 (11th Cir. 2021). Some court opinions have included language suggesting that reentry after a criminal conviction could be a more serious crime under a retributivist theory. See, e.g., United States v. Gonzalez, 112 F.3d 1325, 1330 (7th Cir. 1997). But it is difficult to see how the crime of entering the United States, the quintessential malum prohibitum regulatory offense, is made morally worse by previous unrelated crimes. See Keller, supra note 89, at 751–54; Daniel I. Morales, Crimes of Migration, 49 Wake Forest L. Rev. 1257, 1296–97 (2014) (“It seems we are obligated to conclude that committing a crime of migration is not a wrong prior to and independent of law.”). Though, notably, the Sentencing Commission itself has never announced an official justification for the enhancements.246See Keller, supra note 89, at 741, 747–49; Public Hearing Before the U.S. Sentencing Commission (2006), supra note 140, at 22 (testimony of Sentencing Commissioner Ruben Castillo) (“When we were out in Texas, the Federal Defenders gave some, I thought, compelling testimony that said, in the first instance, the Commission has never articulated a justification for the 16-level enhancement.”); U.S. Sent’g Guidelines Manual Supplement to Appendix C at 155–59 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016) (explaining the 2016 revision but providing no ultimate justification for the double enhancements). The logic of a deterrence rationale is simple—by imposing higher sentences, the reentry enhancements give immigrants with past convictions a stronger disincentive to return. But the Commission has not conducted any study or other policy analysis to explain why the normal criminal history enhancement inadequately deters.247See Keller, supra note 89, at 742, 745–51; United States v. Galvez-Barrios, 355 F. Supp. 2d 958, 962 (E.D. Wis. 2005) (“The Commission did no study to determine if such sentences were necessary-or desirable from any penal theory. Indeed, no research supports such a drastic upheaval. No Commission studies recommended such a high level, nor did any other known grounds warrant it.”) (quoting Robert J. McWhirter & Jon M. Sands, Does the Punishment Fit the Crime? A Defense Perspective on Sentencing in Aggravated Felon Re-Entry Cases, 8 Fed. Sent. Rep. 275, 276 (1996)). Rather, the story of the reentry guideline is one of politics and path dependence. As discussed above, the initial criminal history enhancement was a response to Senator Chiles’s 1988 statutory sentence increase.248See supra notes 94–106 and accompanying text. And that increase was, in turn, motivated by Floridians’ fear of Haitian drug dealers supposedly reentering the country to commit crimes.249See supra Section I.A. The Commission set the original enhancement at sixteen points for no recorded reason, and then revised it in 2001 and 2016 to accommodate judges’ and prosecutors’ complaints.250See supra Section I.B. But the size and nature of the reentry enhancements have never been connected to any empirical data about deterrence, or about reentry defendants committing additional crimes. Indeed, it is unlikely that first-time reentry defendants have any idea their Guidelines calculation will be enhanced so severely by their past criminal record.251In the author’s experience as a defense lawyer in these cases, § 1326 defendants with a large recidivist enhancement nearly always express surprise that they are being punished so severely for their past conviction. One commonly used phrase is “but I already paid for that.” This problem is compounded by the complexity of the Guidelines, discussed in Part III. See also Joanna Lydgate, Note, Assembly-Line Justice: A Review of Operation Streamline, 98 Cal. L. Rev. 481, 519 n. 240 (2010) (interviewing a federal public defender who notes, “[I]t’s really hard to explain to someone who is not familiar with our system and our culture that if you have committed a crime and already paid the time for that crime, that that crime somehow advances you not only in your offense level but in your criminal history. Because, conceptually, it’s hard for me to understand, too. For them, it’s almost impossible.”).

These double enhancements also impose a great deal of suffering on defendants and their families. Many reentry defendants have deep ties to the United States. According to Commission data from 2013, 53.1% of reentry defendants first entered the United States when they were minors,252U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Illegal Reentry Offenses 26 (2015).and 49.5% of reentry defendants have children living in the United States.253Id. at 25–26. And 74.5% had worked in the United States for more than a year before their arrest.254Id. at 26. People with criminal history in the United States are also more likely to have lived in the United States for an extended period.255See David K. Hausman, The Unexamined Law of Deportation, 110 Geo. L.J. 973, 977, 1013 (2022) (“[T]he limited evidence that exists suggests that prioritizing enforcement against people with criminal convictions means prioritizing enforcement against people with deeper attachments to the United States.”). Thus, by focusing on prior convictions, the reentry guidelines direct more punishment at people with strong personal and family ties to this country. The prototypical target of the reentry enhancements is not a foreign drug dealer returning to commit more crimes. It is someone who grew up in the United States, has a family here, and wants to return to them. Many such immigrants spend large portions of their lives in federal prison because they repeatedly try to return to their spouses, their children, and the country they grew up in.256See, e.g., Human Rights Watch, Turning Migrants into Criminals 44–61 (2013) (describing multiple stories of immigrants repeatedly prosecuted for returning to their families); id. at 47 (defense attorney noting “[t]here’s a class of people doing life sentences on the installment plan,” and sister of reentry defendant stating “[i]f we stay here, we’re going to see my brother live his life in jail”); Damien Cave, Crossing Over, and Over, N.Y. Times (Oct. 2, 2011), https://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/03/world/americas/mexican-immigrants-repeatedly-brave-risks-to-resume-lives-in-united-states.html [https://perma.cc/MQR6-7ZBL]; United States v. Mendez-Bello, No. 18-cr-3676, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 213885 (S.D. Cal. Dec. 19, 2018) (defendant spent 19 of the last 20 years in prison on repeated reentry cases); United States v. Vasquez-Abarca, 946 F.3d 990 (7th Cir. 2020) (defendant came to the U.S. at five years old and served reentry sentences of 57 months, 24 months, and 72 months); United States v. Garcia-Jimenez, 630 F. App’x 764, 765 (10th Cir. 2015) (former permanent resident with children who first came as a teenager, and got 65 months for reentry); United States v. Iglesias-Cruz, 628 F. App’x 1000, 1002 (11th Cir. 2015) (defendant with wife and several children in the U.S., served two 40-month sentences for reentry); United States v. Duran, 733 F. App’x 495, 497 (11th Cir. 2018) (40 month reentry sentence for defendant who returned to care for two daughters while wife underwent cancer treatment, and who had prior 37 month reentry sentence); United States v. Morales-Sanchez, 752 F. App’x 814, 815 (11th Cir. 2018) (defendant with five children in the United States, sentenced to 42 months on his fourth reentry conviction).

B.  Doing More and Harder Time

The First Step Act also discriminates against undocumented immigrants. It creates two different classes of prisoner: a majority who can collect earned time credits, and a minority who cannot.257See U.S. Dep’t of Just., First Step Act Ann. Rep. 19 (2024) (showing that 87,957 federal prisoners are eligible for earned time credits and 50,732 are ineligible). U.S. citizens are in the former category, excepting those who are in prison for a disqualifying crime like torture, child pornography production, or terrorism.25818 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(D)(i)–(lxviii). Deportable immigrants, including all reentry defendants, are in the latter category.25918 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(E)(i). Prisoners who qualify for earned time credits can get up to fifteen days off their sentence for every thirty days served.26018 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(A)(i). That means they can serve up to one-third of their sentence in a halfway house, home confinement, or released from custody altogether. Prisoners who do not qualify for earned time credits only get the standard fifty-four days of good time credit per year. And the exclusion of deportable immigrants is also racially discriminatory, since nearly all deportable immigrants in federal prison are Latin American.261U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Quick Facts: Federally Sentenced Non-U.S. Citizens (2023) (88.4% of federally sentenced noncitizens were undocumented, and 93.2% of federally sentenced noncitizens were “Hispanic”).

To defend this discrimination, one might argue that it makes sense to deny limited rehabilitation resources to prisoners who will be deported. Perhaps the federal government has an interest in limiting programs like drug treatment and job training to U.S. citizens. But this argument ignores a key fact about the earned time credit system: a prisoner can collect custody credits even while they are not participating in anti-recidivism programs. As long as a prisoner does not refuse to participate in programs assigned to them, they remain in earning status.262FSA Time Credits Final Rule, supra note 178, at 2707. And this happens even if programs are unavailable, or if the Bureau of Prisons decides the prisoner does not need programs. For example, prisoners assigned to programs that lack openings still earn time credits while waiting for a spot.263Id. (“[T]emporary interruptions in participation that are unrelated to an inmate’s refusal to participate or other violation of programming requirements, or that are authorized by the Bureau, such when a recommended program or activity is unavailable or at full enrollment, will not affect the inmate’s ability to earn Time Credits.”); Program Statement No. 5410.01, supra note 178, at 4 (“An inmate will remain in FTC earning status while on any waitlist for EBRR Programs or PAs recommended based on the inmate’s needs assessment, not to exceed two assessment periods, as long as the inmate has not refused or declined to participate. Active participation in at least one EBRR Program or PA by the inmate supersedes this requirement. Exceptions to the two-assessment period time frame can be granted by the Regional Director upon request from the Warden.”). Prisoners also earn time credits for working jobs within the prison, like cleaning laundry or working in the kitchen.26418 U.S.C. § 3635(3)(C)(xi) (defining “evidence-based recidivism reduction program” to include “a prison job, including through a prison work program”); FSA Time Credits Final Rule, supra note 178, at 2714 (“Opting out of a program will not result in the forfeiture of credits, unless failure to complete the program itself constitutes an infraction (e.g. failing to accept a mandatory work assignment).”); Program Statement No. 5410.01, supra note 176, at 3 (defining “Productive Activity” to include “Institution work programs”). Such work assignments are standard in federal prison, and all able-bodied inmates (including deportable immigrants) are required to perform them.26528 C.F.R. § 545.23 (2024) (“Each sentenced inmate who is physically and mentally able is to be assigned to an institutional, industrial, or commissary work program.”); 28 C.F.R. § 541.3 (2024) (defining refusal to accept a work assignment as “prohibited act” subjecting the inmate to punishment). See also Adam Davidson, Administrative Enslavement, 124 Columb. L. Rev. 633, 682–84 (2024) (describing this and other mandatory prison work regimes as a form of enslavement and calling for their abolition). Many U.S. citizen prisoners receive earned time credit under the First Step Act for performing these prison jobs.266First Step Act Annual Report, supra note 257 at 22 (“Moreover, while structured EBRR programs and PAs with a facilitator-led curriculum are listed in the FSA Approved Programs Guide, other activities, such as work assignments may also be recommended by staff to address individual needs as well as qualify for time credits for eligible individuals in custody.”); FSA Time Credits Final Rule, supra note 178, at 2710 (discussing time credits for prison jobs); E-mail Correspondence with Jessie Agatstein, Fed. Pub. Def. (Aug. 27, 2024) (on file with author) (“[I]t is fairly common for someone to earn most of their credits by engaging in a ‘productive activity,’ meaning a prison job, rather than classes, mostly because there are always prison jobs available, but classes almost always have a waitlist or are short one-day or one-month things.”). For federal prisoners serving sentences in jail facilities, a work assignment is commonly the only option available to provide earned time credits. Id. But deportable immigrants do not receive that credit. The federal government has thus created a system where two prisoners—one a U.S. citizen and the other an

immigrant—will work alongside each other at the same job in the same prison kitchen, with the citizen getting a one-third sentence reduction for their labor and the immigrant getting nothing.

The federal prison system discriminates against deportable immigrants in numerous other ways as well. In addition to First Step Act credits, a federal prisoner can spend ten percent of their sentence (up to six months) in home confinement.26718 U.S.C. § 3624(c)(2). Deportable immigrants, however, cannot get home confinement.268BOP Program Statement no. 7310.04, They are excluded from nearly all in-prison treatment and rehabilitation programs.269See Jacob Schuman, Federal Prisons Don’t Even Try to Rehabilitate the Undocumented, The Marshall Project (Oct. 17, 2017, at 22:00 PT), https://www.themarshallproject.org/2017/10/17/federal-prisons-don-t-even-try-to-rehabilitate-the-undocumented [https://perma.cc/2SKQ-R26W]; Amy F. Kimpel, Coordinating Community Reintegration Services for “Deportable Alien” Defendants: A Moral and Financial Imperative, 70 Fla. L. Rev. 1019, 1027–41 (2018); Eagly, supra note 126, at 1318–19. This includes the Residential Drug Abuse Program, a 500-hour treatment program that gives a one-year sentence reduction upon completion.27018 U.S.C. § 3621(e); 28 C.F.R. § 550.53(b) (2018); Bureau of Prisons, Program Statement: Psychology Treatment Programs, P5330.11, Mar. 16, 2009, at Ch. 2 p. 9. Deportable immigrants cannot receive a “minimum security” designation by the Bureau of Prisons, meaning that they cannot be housed in the least restrictive prison facilities.271U.S. Bureau of Prisons Program Statement 5100.08, Inmate Security Designation and Custody Classification, Ch. 5, at 9; Ch. 2, at 4 (Sept. 12, 2006). Unlike other prisoners, they cannot serve part of their sentences in a halfway house.272U.S. Bureau of Prisons Program Statement 7310.04 at 10 (1998); 18 U.S.C. § 3621(b). While the Bureau of Prisons is required to try to house inmates within 500 miles of their families, it does not do so for deportable immigrants.27318 U.S.C. § 3621(b); BOP Program Statement no. 5100.08 at Ch. 7, p. 4 (2006); Emma Kaufman, Segregation by Citizenship, 132 Harv. L. Rev. 1379, 1411 (2019) (finding that more than half of prisoners in federal facilities designated for immigrants are kept over 500 miles from their home). And the federal prison system houses most deportable immigrants in segregated facilities that have fewer amenities and less security than normal prisons, feature little in-custody programming, and are run by private corporations.274See id. at 1408–18. In conjunction with the earned time credit exclusion, these policies create a separate and unequal prison system for undocumented prisoners.

III.  The Arbitrariness Problem

The reentry guideline is also quite illogical in practice. It distributes prison time through a convoluted formula that is tangential to the severity of a defendant’s criminal history. From the defendant’s perspective, it feels like a twisted lottery—prison time is distributed at random based on what numbers turn up in what order. This Part explores several features of the guideline that cause it to treat defendants so arbitrarily. The basic problem is that up to two large (commonly multi-year) sentence enhancements are imposed based on superficial aspects of a defendant’s record. First, the guideline places a puzzling emphasis on the order of convictions vis-à-vis the first deportation. If all convictions occurred either before or after the first deportation, then there is only one enhancement. But if two convictions straddle the first deportation, there are two enhancements. Thus, multiple years in prison often turn on the order of events. Second, the guideline only looks at nominal sentences, not actual time served. The enhancements are thus inflated by state sentencing policies, like indeterminate parole and automatic good time credit, that make the nominal sentence much longer than the real one. Third, violations of criminal supervision (e.g., probation) artificially inflate these past sentences and cause very old convictions to still trigger enhancements. This is a common problem for reentry cases because deportation itself often results in probation violations. Fourth, the difficulty of obtaining conviction and deportation records, combined with the fast pace of guilty pleas in these cases, leaves many defendants in the dark. They often plead guilty thinking their prison term will be brief, only to find out that it will be much longer. This Part explains these sources of arbitrariness, showing how they exacerbate the guideline’s anti-immigrant discrimination. It also illustrates them with a real-world case example.

A.  The Criminal History Lottery

  1. Timing the Deportation

Before 2016, the reentry guideline only gave an enhancement for past convictions that were followed by a deportation.275See Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2 (1989–2015). This mirrored Chiles’s amendment to § 1326, which increased the maximum punishment if a defendant was deported “subsequent to” a felony or aggravated felony.2768 U.S.C. § 1326(b). Convictions occurring after a defendant’s most recent deportation did not trigger an enhancement. The criminal history enhancement was thus a collateral consequence of being deported after a conviction, and not of a conviction alone. This reflected the Commission’s apparent purpose of deterring immigrants deported after felony convictions from returning to the United States.277See Brown, supra note 105, at 8; supra note 72 & accompanying text.

When the Sentencing Commission rewrote the reentry guideline in 2016, it expressed concern that just focusing on pre-deportation convictions was arbitrary.278Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C. at 157 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016); United States Sent’g Comm’n, Illegal Reentry Offenses 6–7, 18–19 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2015). Take two defendants who committed the exact same prior crime, one before being deported and the other after being deported. Following the Commission’s logic, it made little sense to give the former defendant multiple more years in prison than the latter.279Guidelines Manual supp. to app. C. at 157 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016). But rather than simply removing the requirement that a conviction occur before a deportation, the Commission added a second enhancement.280Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(3) (2016). Under the new version of the guideline, a defendant can get up to two enhancements of up to ten specific offense points. The first enhancement is for a conviction occurring before the defendant’s first deportation, and the second is for a conviction occurring after their first deportation.281Id. at § 2L1.2(b)(2)-(3). This solved the arbitrariness problem, by the Commission’s reasoning, because it treated defendants with pre- and post-deportation felonies equally.

However, the 2016 amendment added a whole new dimension of arbitrariness. Under this new system, the order of convictions vis-à-vis the first deportation is enormously important. And that fact bears little relationship to the actual severity of someone’s prior record. Consider the following four defendants, who suffer deportations and felony convictions in the following order:

  • Defendant A: Felony, Deportation, Felony: two enhancements (one under Guidelines section 2L1.2(b)(2), another under (b)(3))
  • Defendant B: Felony, Felony, Felony, Felony, Deportation: one enhancement (under (b)(2))
  • Defendant C: Deportation, Felony, Felony, Felony, Felony: one enhancement (under (b)(3))
  • Defendant D: Deportation, Felony, Deportation, Felony, Deportation, Felony, Deportation, Felony: one enhancement (under (b)(3))

Defendant A has the least serious criminal record, with just two felonies. But only Defendant A will receive two enhancements under the reentry guideline. Every other defendant gets just one enhancement, despite having more convictions than A and as many or more deportations than A. Why is Defendant A treated much more harshly? There is no logical explanation for distributing prison time this way. If the Commission’s goal is to punish people more severely for returning to the United States and committing additional crimes, it should not focus just on the first deportation. For example, Defendant D above receives no second enhancement despite being convicted of crimes both before and after their deportations. According to a study by the Sentencing Commission, in 2013 the median number of prior deportations for reentry defendants was 2, and the mean was 3.2.282U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Illegal Reentry Offenses 14–15 (2015). The data also reflected that 34.8% of cases involved one prior deportation, and 4.6% of cases had ten or more prior deportations. According to the same study, the median number of past criminal convictions was 3 and the mean was 4.4.283Id. at 16–17. This was from a sample of 1,746 cases, excluding 151 cases involving with no prior convictions. The average sentence imposed for these prior convictions was 14 months, with a median of 6 months. These numbers include misdemeanor convictions, which do not usually trigger the reentry enhancements. According to data from 2023, 43.6% of reentry defendants qualify for one or both enhancements. U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Quick Facts: Illegal Reentry Offenses (2023). Conditioning sentence severity on the precise sequence of these events makes little sense.284People with less significant criminal and deportation histories tend to get charged with misdemeanor unlawful entry, 8 U.S.C. § 1325. And from the defendant’s perspective, it seems quite random. Due to the size of these enhancements (between four and ten offense points), defendants who receive two of them are commonly looking at five to ten years in prison, sometimes even more.285See cases cited, supra note 238 (examples of long sentences under the post-2016 reentry guideline). According to the Commission’s data, 2.3% of reentry defendants in 2023 received both enhancements. U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Quick Facts: Illegal Reentry Offenses (2023). For example, assuming that all the felonies in the above illustration carried two-year sentences, Defendant A would have a recommended sentence range of sixty-three to seventy-eight months.286See infra Appendix A. Defendant A would be in criminal history category 3, with 8 base offense points, and a +16 enhancement for the two prior convictions. If they pled guilty they could get a 3-point reduction, bringing their range to 46 to 57 months. Guidelines Manual § 3E1.1 (2023). Without the second enhancement, Defendant A’s range would be only twenty-seven to thirty-three months.287See infra Appendix A. With a 3-point reduction for pleading guilty, this would be 18 to 24 months. And Defendants B, C, and D would face a range of forty-one to fifty-one months, despite having much more extensive felony records than A.288See infra Appendix A. These defendants are all in criminal history category 5, but only get a single +8 enhancement. With a 3-point reduction for pleading guilty, the range goes down to 30 to 37 months.

Prosecutors can also exercise unilateral discretion over whether a post-deportation enhancement applies. In situations where a previously deported person is charged with a state crime, the federal prosecutor has a choice of when to bring them to federal court on the reentry case.289See Meyers, supra note 238. If the prosecutor waits for the state case to end, and it results in a conviction and sentence, the defendant will then receive a sentencing enhancement in their federal reentry case.290See Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(3) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023) (post-deportation enhancement applies where “defendant engaged in criminal conduct that, at any time, resulted in . . .” a qualifying conviction and sentence). But if the prosecutor instead brings the reentry case first, there is no extra enhancement. The reentry guideline thus empowers prosecutors to manipulate a defendant’s sentence. And given the potential size of the enhancement, this sometimes means doubling or tripling a defendant’s prison term.291See Meyers, supra note 238, at 2–3 (providing examples, including one of a defendant with a 130–162 month guideline range due to prosecutors’ decision to delay). Different prosecutors’ offices have different policies on this question, with some prosecuting the reentry case right away and others waiting.292Id. at 2 (noting that three federal prosecutors’ offices in the Southern District of Texas charge the reentry case right away, but that the Houston office instead elects to wait until the state case is over). That adds yet another dimension of randomness to reentry sentencing.293A defense attorney can also sometimes change the Guidelines calculation by negotiating with the prosecutor to stipulate that the first order of deportation is invalid because it was “fundamentally unfair.” Cf. United States v. Mendoza-Lopez, 481 U.S. 828 (1987) (providing for collateral attack of deportation orders in § 1326 prosecutions on that basis); Immigration and Nationality Act § 276(d), 8 U.S.C. § 1326(d) (enumerating limitations on such collateral attacks). This is sometimes called “moving” the deportation. If the defendant’s history goes: (1) felony, (2) deportation, (3) felony, (4) deportation, then stipulating that the first deportation is invalid will save the defendant a sentencing enhancement. The author negotiated several such deals in § 1326 cases as a defense lawyer.

  1. Misinterpreting State Sentences

Before 2016, the reentry guidelines’ prior conviction enhancements were keyed to substantive crime categories. These included “crime of violence,” “drug trafficking offense,” “aggravated felony,” and more.294See, e.g., Guidelines Manual 2L1.2(b)(1) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2015). This caused much litigation using the categorical approach, with lawyers arguing over which state crimes did or did not qualify for which enhancements.295See supra notes 143–47 and accompanying text. Responding to judges’ and prosecutors’ complaints about this litigation, the Commission changed the guideline in 2016 to focus instead on past sentences. Under this new version of the guideline, the length of a sentence is treated as a proxy for the seriousness of the underlying crime.296See Fish, supra note 150, at 1393–416 (discussing the use of such heuristics in recidivist enhancements). If the “sentence imposed” for a prior crime was five years or more, it is worth ten points; if it was at least two years and less than five, it is worth eight points; if it was more than thirteen months and less than two years, it is worth six points; and all other felonies are worth four points.297Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(2)-(3) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). This new system has reduced litigation over reentry sentences.298See Kachnowski & Russell, supra note 5, at 3. But it interprets state sentences in an incredibly unsophisticated way. In doing so, it creates arbitrary differences in punishment, and artificially inflates many enhancements, based on variations in state sentencing procedures.

The current guideline looks at the nominal sentence imposed by a court, not at the amount of time a defendant served in custody.299Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2 cmt. n.2 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023); id. § 4A1.2 cmt. n.2 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023) (“[T]he length of a sentence of imprisonment is the stated maximum . . . [C]riminal history points are based on the sentence pronounced, not the length of time actually served.”). But the relationship between those two numbers varies widely between (and within) state systems. Some states require a defendant to serve all or nearly all of their sentence. Others set the sticker price of a sentence much higher than the time actually served. Consider some examples. In California, by default defendants serve only half of the announced prison sentence (and, under the recent “realignment” system, some defendants serve much less than that).300Cal. Penal Code § 4019(f) (“[A] term of four days will be deemed to have been served for every two days spent in actual custody.”); See Cal. Penal Code § 1170(h) (West 2020) (realignment sentencing); J. Richard Couzens & Tricia A. Bigelow, Felony Sentencing After Realignment (2017), [https://perma.cc/8RUK-UL6J]. Arizona and Florida, by contrast, are truth-in-sentencing states, and require all defendants to serve at least eighty-five percent of the announced sentence.301Ariz. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 41-1604.07 (2019); Fla. Stat. Ann. § 944.275 (West 2023). In Minnesota, felony defendants are released on supervision after serving two-thirds of their sentences.302Minn. Stat. Ann. § 244.101 (West 2023). And discretionary parole systems (which most states have) introduce further complications.303See Edward E. Rhine, Kelly Lyn Mitchell & Kevin R. Reitz, Robina Institute, Levers of Change in Parole Release and Revocation 4 (2018) (34 states have discretionary parole systems). In Utah, third-degree felonies are sentenced to an indeterminate term of zero to five years, and second-degree felonies get one to fifteen years.304Utah Code Ann. § 76-3-203 (West 2003), id. § 77-18-111 (West 2024). In Texas, defendants are eligible for parole after serving twenty-five percent of their sentence.305Tex. Gov’t Code Ann. § 508.145(f) (West 2025). But for all of these different state sentencing systems, the reentry guideline treats the maximum possible sentence as the “real” sentence. It does not matter if everyone in the courtroom—the judge, the lawyers, the defendant—understood that only a fraction of that time would be spent in prison. It does not matter if the sentence was an indeterminate term of zero to five years, and the defendant was paroled after just two months. The reentry guideline is deliberately ignorant of these facts. The sticker price is the sentence.

The 2016 amendment thus replaced one form of arbitrariness with another. Under the categorical approach regime, seemingly irrelevant differences in the elements of state crimes determined whether a prior conviction counted for an enhancement.306See supra notes 145–46 and accompanying text. Under the nominal sentence length regime, seemingly irrelevant differences in state sentencing procedures determine an enhancement’s size.307This criticism also applies to the Guidelines’ normal criminal history score calculation, since it counts prior sentences the same way. Guidelines Manual § 4A1.2 cmt. n.2 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). But the reentry guideline’s arbitrariness is significantly worse, because a single prior sentence can create a much larger enhancement than it can with the general criminal history score. See infra Appendix (compare a 3-point increase in criminal history points with an 8- or 10-point increase in offense level). The new system eases the burden of litigation on judges and prosecutors, but it maintains the burden of arbitrary treatment on defendants. One problem is that people with substantively similar prior sentences will get very different enhancements due to differences in state procedures. Another, related problem is that the nominal sentence often significantly overstates the seriousness of the underlying crime.308Another similar problem arises when prior crimes get inflated sentences due to defendants’ immigration status. Some state judges, and some prosecutors’ offices, increase criminal sentences if the defendant is undocumented. See, e.g., Gabriel J. Chin, Illegal Entry as Crime, Deportation as Punishment: Immigration Status and the Criminal Process, 58 UCLA L. Rev. 1417, 1430–33 (2011) (showing that some state courts impose enhanced sentences for a prior unlawful entry, and some states make undocumented immigrants ineligible for probation); Kay Levine, Ronald Wright, and Marc Miller, Discriminatory Policy Pinned on Wall Should Shock All Prosecutors, Bloomberg L., (May 4, 2023) https://news.bloomberglaw.com/us-law-week/discriminatory-policy-pinned-on-wall-should-shock-all-prosecutors [https://perma.cc/69XG-TUS8] (describing a Florida prosecutor’s office with a formal policy of giving harsher plea deals to “Hispanic” undocumented defendants). This then triggers additional punishment in a later reentry prosecution, with the reentry guideline mistaking the higher sentence as evidence of more severe conduct rather than just the defendant’s immigration status. For example, in Utah’s discretionary parole system you can serve just a few days in custody on a sentence that the Guidelines will count as five years long.309See, e.g., United States v. Dozier, 555 F.3d 1136, 1138 n.2 (10th Cir. 2009) (“[A]n indeterminate 0 to 5 year sentence is considered a 5–year sentence.”). But “five years” is a terrible proxy for the severity of the actual crime in such a case. And it seems seriously unjust to get a ten-point enhancement for conduct that only merited a short stay in jail. A system based on time actually served would be far more rational. Such an approach has precedent in the federal system: federal drug crimes use a time-served model for determining recidivist sentence enhancements.310See 21 U.S.C. § 802(57)–(58) (defining “serious violent felony” and “serious drug felony” as convictions “for which the offender served a term of imprisonment of more than 12 months”). But, for the sake of administrative convenience, the Sentencing Commission rejected that approach when it amended the reentry guidelines.311See Guidelines Manual supp. app. C, amend. 802, at 158 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2016) (“The Commission considered public comment suggesting that the term of imprisonment a defendant actually served for a prior conviction was a superior means of assessing the seriousness of the prior offense. The Commission determined that such an approach would be administratively impractical due to difficulties in obtaining accurate documentation.”).

  1. Supervision Complications

Criminal supervision introduces further problems. Supervision sentences are very common in the United States: about 3.7 million people are currently on some form of probation or parole.312See Leah Wang, Prison Pol’y Initiative, Punishment Beyond Prisons 2023: Incarceration and Supervision by State (2023), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/correctionalcontrol2023.html [https://perma.cc/KP4W-YNPK]. When someone is sentenced to supervision, they can be put in custody for violating certain rules. This can happen if they do things like refuse to meet with a probation officer, fail a drug test, or commit a new crime.313See Eric S. Fish, The Constitutional Limits of Criminal Supervision, 108 Cornell L. Rev. 1375, 1396–1401 (2023). Under the Guidelines, any sentence for a violation of criminal supervision gets added to the sentence for the original crime.314Guidelines Manual § 4A1.2(k) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023); id. § 2L1.2 cmt. n.2. So if a person is initially sentenced to zero days in prison plus probation, and then gets a 219-day sentence for violating probation conditions, the Guidelines treat that as a 219-day sentence for the original crime.315See, e.g., United States v. Coast, 602 F.3d 1222 (11th Cir. 2010). In the context of the reentry guideline, this means supervision violations enlarge the prior conviction enhancements by adding to the measured lengths of past sentences.316Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2 Application Note 2 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023).

Reentry defendants are especially susceptible to supervision violations, because deportation itself often causes them.317Reentry defendants are also commonly given supervised release in the federal system and receive supervised release violations if they return unlawfully. When that happens, they get two cases—one for the reentry and one for the supervision violation. That means additional time in prison and often requires moving defendants around to different states for separate cases stemming from one arrest (i.e. when their supervision case is in one state, but the new reentry case is in another). See Jacob Schuman, Criminal Violations, 108 Va. L. Rev. 1817, 1868–83 (2022) (documenting the large number of supervised release violation sentences in federal immigration cases, which comprise one-third of annual revocations in the federal system); United States v. Ceballos-Santa Cruz, 756 F.3d 635 (8th Cir. 2014) (involving a new § 1326 prosecution in Arizona and related revocation hearing in Nebraska). One standard supervision condition is that the supervisee must report in person to a probation or parole office.318See Fiona Doherty, Obey All Laws and Be Good: Probation and the Meaning of Recidivism, 104 Geo. L.J. 291, 316–17 (2016). But when someone is deported after release from jail, they cannot go meet their probation officer. This can trigger a violation report and an arrest warrant.319See, e.g., Rivera v. State, No. 07-00-0120, 2000 Tex. App. LEXIS 6073 (Tex. App. Aug. 31, 2000) (affirming probation violation for failing to report to probation office after deportation); State v. Contreras-Villegas, No. 112,091, 2015 Kan. App. Unpub. LEXIS 595 (Kan. Ct. App. July 24, 2015) (same); Chavez v. State, No. 49A02-1110-CR-899, 2012 Ind. App. Unpub. LEXIS 607 (Ind. Ct. App. May 21, 2012) (same); People v. Calderon, No. B226768, 2011 Cal. App. Unpub. LEXIS 5664, at *2–5 (Cal. Ct. App. July 29, 2011) (involving a violation for failure to apprise probation department of whereabouts after deportation). In addition, many state courts impose immigration-related conditions on undocumented supervisees, such as prohibitions on returning to the United States without legal permission or requirements to report to a probation officer upon return.320See, e.g., Conditions of Supervised Probation, Yuma Cnty., Ariz., https://www.yumacountyaz.gov/government/courts/adult-probation/probation-services/standard-probation/conditions-of-supervised-probation (last visited Oct. 19, 2025) [https://archive.ph/FW3at ] (“If deported or processed through voluntary departure, I will not return to the United States without legal authorization during the term of my probation.”); Probation Information, Caldwell, Comal, and Hays Cntys., Tex,: Cmty. Supervision & Corr. Dep’t, http://www.caldwellcscd.org/index_files/Page342.htm (last visited Oct. 19, 2025) [https://perma.cc/7BNM-EUE5] (“REPORTING REQUIREMENTS FOR DEPORTED PROBATIONER. If deported, do not return to the United States illegally. Report by mail every month and provide verification of income. If you return to the United States, you must report to the Community Supervision and Corrections Department within 10 days of re-entry.”); Standard and Special Conditions of Parole, Utah Bd. of Pardons and Parole, https://bop.utah.gov/wp-content/uploads/Standard-Special-Parole-Conditions_Downloaded-8-15-2022.pdf (last visited Oct. 19, 2025) [https://perma.cc/S5FC-ELWU] (“If Deported by ICE authorities: Do not remain in, or return to, Utah or the United States of America, without lawful permission of the government of the United States.”); Barrientos v. State, No. 05-98-01966, 1999 Tex. App. LEXIS 8173, at *1–3 (Tex. App. Nov. 2, 1999) (outlining state supervision conditions requiring compliance with immigration authorities and reporting to probation upon return to the United States); State v. Vivas Buezo, A22-0917, 2023 Minn. App. Unpub. LEXIS 74, at *1–3 (Minn. Ct. App. Jan. 30, 2023) (showing state probation violations for unlawfully reentering the U.S. and failing to report to probation upon return); People v. Ochoa, No. B244844, 2014 Cal. App. Unpub. LEXIS 4703, at *1–2 (Cal. Ct. App. July 2, 2014) (regarding conditions to not enter the United States illegally and report to probation within 48 hours of return); State v. Grave-Perez, No. 98,169, 2008 Kan. App. Unpub. LEXIS 341 (Kan. Ct. App. May 2, 2008) ( regarding probation violation for failing to report upon return to the United States after deportation); see also Sample Special Condition Language (Probation and Supervised Release Conditions), U.S. Cts., https://www.uscourts.gov/services-forms/sample-special-condition-language-probation-supervised-release-conditions (last visited Oct. 1, 2024) [https://web.archive.org/web/20241010053007/https://www.uscourts.gov/services-forms/sample-special-condition-language-probation-supervised-release-conditions] (“If you are ordered deported from the United States, you must remain outside the United States, unless legally authorized to re-enter. If you re-enter the United States, you must report to the nearest probation office within 72 hours after you return.”). When defendants are punished for violating immigration-based conditions, it also inflates their sentence enhancement in any later reentry case. This creates yet more double punishment—the state gives you a probation violation for returning to the United States, then the federal system treats that violation as evidence of separate bad conduct meriting an increased sentence for returning to the United States.321See, e.g., United States v. Rivera-Berrios, 902 F.3d 20, 24 (1st Cir. 2018) (affirming Guidelines criminal history enhancement based on revocation for the same conduct underlying the new federal conviction).

The Guidelines’ treatment of supervision violations also reproduces the problems discussed in the above Sections. Consider a person sentenced to probation and then deported for the first time. If that person returns to the United States and is prosecuted for a new crime, they will also get a probation violation.322See Schuman, supra note 318, at 1821–22. If the sentence for that probation violation runs concurrent to the sentence on the new crime, then a single term in prison will count for two separate enhancements.323See Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2 cmt. n.2 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023) (“The length of the sentence imposed includes any term of imprisonment given upon revocation of probation, parole, or supervised release, regardless of when the revocation occurred.”); U. S. Sent’g Comm’n, Guidelines Amendment 809 (2018) (amending the reentry guideline so that revocation sentences after the first deportation are still added to underlying convictions before the first deportation); Guidelines Manual § 4A1.2(a)(2) (“Prior sentences always are counted separately if the sentences were imposed for offenses that were separated by an intervening arrest”); discussion infra Section III.B. Further, a supervision violation can also result in a nominal sentence that is higher than the real sentence. For example, in California the half-time rule applies to probation violations, and in Utah a violation sentence can include an indeterminate prison term with parole.324Cal. Penal Code § 4019 (West 2024); United States v. Dozier, 555 F.3d 1136, 1138 n.2 (10th Cir. 2009). In such cases the violation is counted as the maximum possible custody time rather than the actual time spent in prison.325Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2 cmt. n.2 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023); id. §§ 4A1.2(b) cmt. n.2. (2023). Consider the case of United States v. Gomez-Colin.326United States v. Gomez-Colin, 823 F. App’x 368 (6th Cir. 2020). The defendant was initially sentenced to probation on a Georgia felony conviction and then deported.327Id. at 370–71. He later returned to the United States and received a state probation violation for reentering the country unlawfully.328Id. at 370; Brief of Appellant at 2, United States v. Gomez-Colin, 823 F. App’x 368 (6th Cir. 2020) (No. 19-5616). This resulted in a five-year sentence that was set aside by the state court (meaning he did not serve it).329Gomez-Colin, 823 F. App’x at 370. But the federal court treated it as a full five-year sentence under the reentry guideline, giving him a ten-point enhancement.330Id. at 371 (showing how the defendant got both a pre-deportation and a post-deportation enhancement and was sentenced to 144 months with a Guidelines range of 130–162 months). The guideline’s treatment of violation sentences thus compounds with its treatment of indeterminate sentences to inflate the reentry enhancements even further.

Lastly, supervision violations also cause very old cases to trigger sentencing enhancements. For any sentence of over thirteen months, the reentry guideline only imposes an enhancement if the defendant was in custody within fifteen years of their arrest for reentry.331Guidelines Manual § 4A1.2(e)(1) (2023). All shorter sentences only count if the initial sentence was imposed within ten years of the current crime. Id. § 4A1.2(e)(2)-(3). Supervision violations thus only affect the time window for prior sentence over thirteen months. So if someone served a two-year sentence but was released from custody more than fifteen years ago, that prior sentence does not count. However, supervision violations extend this timeline forward.332Guidelines Manual § 4A1.2(k)(2) (2023). Thus, if someone served a two-year prison sentence and was released on parole thirty years ago, but they served time on a later parole violation within the last fifteen years, the entire conviction still counts under the reentry guideline.333See, e.g., Brief of Appellant at 6–7, United States v. Salamanca, 821 F. App’x 584 (6th Cir. 2020) (No. 19-5746) (Defendant in a 2019 reentry case received an enhancement for a conviction from 1999, due to an intervening probation violation sentence that was imposed in absentia). This is a common problem for reentry defendants, because deportation itself triggers supervision warrants.334See supra notes 318–21 and accompanying text. If a supervisee fails to report because they were deported, the court can issue a probation warrant that indefinitely pauses the clock on the term of probation.335See Lee R. Russ, Annotation, Power of Court, After Expiration of Probation Term, to Revoke or Modify Probation for Violations Committed During the Probation Term, 13 A.L.R.4th 1240 (2024, originally published in 1982) (observing the “general rule” that issuing a warrant and initiating revocation proceedings tolls the supervision clock indefinitely). Then, if the supervisee is arrested and jailed many years later on the warrant, the supervision violation causes the underlying crime to count for a Guidelines enhancement. This is true regardless of how long ago the underlying conviction occurred.336Guidelines Manual § 4A1.2(k)(2) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). Reentry defendants are thus punished anew for decades-old crimes.

  1. Slow Court Records, Fast Guilty Pleas

Given all these complications, it is often quite difficult to figure out a reentry defendant’s Guidelines range. First you need to get their conviction records, their supervision revocation records, and their deportation records. This commonly means requesting documents from multiple state and federal government bodies. Ordering these records is often a complicated matter.337See Fish, supra note 150, at 1396–97; Mary De Ming Fan, Reforming the Criminal Rap Sheet: Federal Timidity and the Traditional State Functions Doctrine, 33 Am. J. Crim. L. 31, 70–71 (2005). Many county courthouses only use paper documents, and many require records requests to be made in person or by mail.338See Kat Albrecht & Kaitlyn Filip, Public Records Aren’t Public: Systemic Barriers to Measuring Court Functioning & Equity, 113 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 1, 28–30 (2023); Jonathan Abel, Going Federal, Staying Stateside: Felons, Firearms, and the ’Federalization’ of Crime, 73 Am. U. L. Rev. 585, 669 (2024). And the federal government takes months to provide immigrants with their deportation records.339See, e.g., Complaint at 2, Sanchez Mora v. U.S. Customs and Border Protection, No. 24-cv-2430, 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 239251 (N.D. Cal. Apr. 24, 2024) (“CBP generally takes over six months, and sometimes longer than one year, from receipt to make a determination on a FOIA request for individual records and, as illustrated by Plaintiffs Sanchez Mora and García’s requests, many requests linger—unprocessed—for well over one year.”). Indeed, a large portion of federal immigration files are kept in a defunct limestone mine in Missouri, and requested documents must be physically located there before they are provided.340See Ingrid Eagly, Access to Public Records in Immigration Law: Reviewing Margaret B. Kwoka’s Saving the Freedom of Information Act, Yale J. Reg. Notice & Comment (2022). Once you have all of these documents, you must piece together the defendant’s deportation and criminal history, and put it in chronological order to figure out the recommended sentence. For the defendant, this exercise is a high-stakes logic game. It produces a longer or shorter sentence based on the specific features (and sequence) of their prior record.

Unfortunately, this logic game has a short time limit. Unlawful reentry prosecutions proceed very quickly. Over ninety-seven percent of them end in guilty pleas.341Mark Motivans, U.S. Dep’t of Just., Federal Justice Statistics, 2022 at 11 (2024). About one-quarter of those pleas are obtained through a prosecutor-controlled program called “Fast Track.”342Memorandum from James M. Cole, Deputy Att’y Gen., Dep’t of Justice, to all U.S. Att’ys Regarding Department Policy on Early Disposition or “Fast-Track” Programs 2 (Jan. 31, 2012), [https://perma.cc/ 63LM-CXGA]; see Kimpel, supra note 121, at 253–59. The Fast Track program is also applied to other kinds of federal cases, such as drug cases, but it is mostly used in the reentry context. Id. at 255; U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Quick Facts: Illegal Reentry Offenses (2023) (25.7% of reentry cases got a Fast Track reduction in 2023). The Fast Track program provides the defendant with a somewhat lower Guidelines range (usually a two- or four-point reduction) in exchange for (1) not filing any motions or appeals, and (2) pleading guilty within thirty days of their arrest.343Cole Memorandum, supra note 343, at 3–4; Kimpel, supra note 121, at 259. Reentry cases in the Fast Track program thus resolve very quickly.344See Kimpel, supra note 121, at 254. Even outside the Fast Track program, reentry cases tend to end in much faster guilty pleas than other federal crimes.345See U. S. Cts, Federal Court Management Statistics—Profiles (June 30, 2024), https://www.uscourts.gov/sites/default/files/data_tables/fcms_na_distprofile0630.2024.pdf [https://perma.cc/L7JE-YYPZ] (the median duration of felony cases [from filing to final judgment/sentencing] in the five U.S./Mexico border districts are: 5.1 months (S.D. Tex.), 6.7 months (W.D. Tex.), 5.0 months (D. Ariz.), 6.1 months (S.D. Cal.), and 3.9 months (D. NM), compared with 11.3 months nationwide). Most reentry prosecutions are brought in high-volume border districts, where they comprise the majority of cases.346See Kimpel, supra note 121, at 246 (83% of reentry prosecutions are in the five border districts); U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Quick Facts: Illegal Reentry Offenses (2023) (reentry cases were 56% of all cases in the District of Arizona, 51.8% in the Western District of Texas, 51.4% in the Eastern District of Texas, and 50.5% in the District of New Mexico). Judges, defense lawyers, and prosecutors in those districts expect reentry cases to be routine guilty pleas and process them accordingly.347Cf. Fish, supra note 201, at 1897–1905 (describing routinized mass processing of immigration misdemeanors in federal courts along the border).

This means defendants are pressured to plead guilty without having access to their full deportation and conviction records. The prosecutor usually provides a RAP sheet with basic prior conviction information from the FBI’s criminal records database, but such RAP sheets are incomplete. They often lack information about the dates of past convictions, the sentences, and any probation or parole violations.348See Sarah Lageson, Criminally Bad Data: Inaccurate Criminal Records, Data Brokers, and Algorithmic Injustice, 2023 U. Ill. L. Rev. 1771, 1775–78 (discussing the problem of missing case dispositions in RAP sheets, which ranges from 22% of case entries in Iowa to 98% in Massachusetts, with a national average of 69%). That information must be obtained from state agencies, which is a burdensome process. And while complete deportation records should theoretically be provided in discovery, reentry defendants who plead guilty have no right to pre-plea disclosure of those records.349See Daniel S. McConkie, Structuring Pre-Plea Criminal Discovery, 107 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 1 (2017). The defendant’s full deportation and criminal history is thus often unknown until a court-appointed probation officer obtains the records while writing a presentence report. Presentence reports are prepared after the conviction and take several months to complete.350See Fed. R. Crim. P. 32(e)–(g). When provided to the defendant before sentencing, they often contain unpleasant surprises. If the probation officer finds a deportation order or supervision violation that the defense lawyer missed, multiple years can be added to the expected sentence.351It is especially common for expedited removals to be overlooked in the early stages of a reentry case. Such removals occur at the border and are never reviewed in an immigration court. Consequently, they generate a less extensive paper trail than formal deportations. Nonetheless, expedited removals count as deportations for § 1326 purposes. See Am. Immigr. Council, A Primer on Expedited Removal (2023). Defendants thus often plead guilty thinking their prison term will be relatively short, only to find out right before the sentencing hearing that it will be much longer. The rapidity of guilty pleas in these cases, combined with the difficulty of obtaining records quickly, keeps defendants in the dark.

B.  The Case of Mr. R

The reentry guideline’s criminal history enhancements thus create numerous problems. They produce arbitrary and illogical punishments, inaccurately measure prior sentence lengths, and make it difficult to ascertain a defendant’s sentencing range before the guilty plea. It is helpful to illustrate these problems with a concrete case. To that end, here is the story of Mr. R, a reentry defendant who was sentenced to ninety-six months in prison in 2014.352This is a real case, and all the information provided here comes from publicly filed court documents. However, I am using a pseudonym to avoid publicizing the defendant’s identity. The sentencing in his case illustrates several of the reentry guideline’s absurdities.

Mr. R was born in a Latin American country. He moved to the United States with his father at the age of eight. In his late teens and early twenties, he collected a series of criminal convictions in California. In June 1995, when Mr. R was eighteen years old, he was convicted of stealing a car.353Cal. Veh. Code § 10851(a) (West 2024). He was sentenced to 365 days in jail and three years of probation. Shortly after his release, in September 1995, he was convicted of possessing cocaine with intent to sell.354Cal. Health & Safety Code § 11351.5 (West 2024) He was sentenced to three years in prison for the drug conviction and given a probation violation on the auto theft case with a concurrent three-year sentence. After his release from custody, he was deported from the United States for the first time in November 1997. He also received two separate three-year terms of parole in California, one for each of the 1995 convictions.355In most California felony cases parole is added to the end of a defendant’s prison sentence (and therefore does not shorten the prison sentence). Cal. Penal Code § 3000 (West 2024).

Mr. R then reentered the United States and returned to California. He was convicted of robbery in 1998.356Cal. Penal Code § 211 (West 2024). For that conviction he received a state sentence of fifteen years in prison. He also received two concurrent parole violations in each of the 1995 cases. He remained in prison in California on this sentence until 2012, when he was released from custody and deported again. He then reentered the United States and was prosecuted federally for unlawful reentry. Under the pre-2016 Guidelines, he received a sentence of fifty-seven months in prison because of his prior robbery conviction.357The pre-2016 guidelines provided a 16-point enhancement for any prior “crime of violence.” See Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(1)(A) (2012).

Fast forward to 2018. Mr. R is arrested again for entering the United States and charged with unlawful reentry. He is now in his early forties, and his most recent state conviction is from 1998. Mr. R’s court-appointed defense lawyer knows that the 1998 robbery conviction will trigger a ten-point enhancement, because Mr. R was released from custody within the last fifteen years.358Guidelines Manual § 4A1.2(e)(1) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2018). But the lawyer does not think either of the 1995 convictions will count, because they are too old. This means Mr. R will receive just one prior conviction enhancement (for a post-first-deportation felony).359Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(3) (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2018). The lawyer tells Mr. R that he is looking at a Guidelines range of forty-six to fifty-seven months, and Mr. R pleads guilty less than two months after his arrest.360Mr. R did not receive a Fast Track plea offer, so this rapid guilty plea did not produce a sentencing benefit.

Between the guilty plea and sentencing, a court-appointed probation officer orders Mr. R’s criminal case records from California to prepare a presentence report. These records reveal that the two 1995 convictions produced parole violations that ran concurrent with the 1998 robbery sentence. The probation officer concludes that those 1995 convictions should therefore be counted in Mr. R’s 2018 Guidelines calculation, because he was in custody within the relevant timeframe. This has two consequences for the sentence. First, it gives Mr. R six more criminal history points, putting him in the Guidelines’ highest criminal history category. Second, it gives Mr. R a large new pre-first-deportation enhancement under the reentry guideline. The 1995 convictions occurred before Mr. R’s first deportation, so they trigger a separate enhancement from the 1998 sentence. And even though the parole violation ran concurrent with the new robbery sentence, it is added to the 1995 sentence and thus the pre-deportation sentence enhancement.361See supra note 324 and accompanying text. Based on this calculation, the probation officer concludes that Mr. R’s Guidelines range is 130 to 162 months.

The defense lawyer makes no objections to the probation officer’s conclusions. At the sentencing hearing, the defense lawyer argues that these convictions are quite old and the product of Mr. R’s troubled youth, while today Mr. R is a deeply religious man who works as a Christian pastor. Mr. R complains to the judge that his defense lawyer has not communicated with him about the surprise increase in his sentence. The judge proceeds with sentencing anyway and gives Mr. R ninety-six months in prison.

Subsequent litigation revealed that this Guidelines range was in fact wrong. The 1995 convictions should not have counted for the 2018 Guidelines calculation, because Mr. R’s parole violation sentences were discharged in September 2000. California law provides that a person cannot be kept in custody longer than four years on a parole violation for a noncapital felony.362Cal. Penal Code § 3000(b)(6)(A) (West 2024). The probation officer and the defense lawyer apparently did not realize this. This means Mr. R was not in custody on those cases within fifteen years of 2018. But his discharge from parole could only be discovered by looking at prison administrative records kept by the California Department of Corrections. Mr. R’s discharge was noted in pencil on a paper log in his prison file, which could only be obtained through a written request.363See San Diego Cty. Dist. Atty, Authorization for Release of Offender Central File (2019), https://www.sdcda.org/Content/prosecuting/Central%20File%20Authorization%20Wavier.pdf [https://perma.cc/J4YG-T4RX]. Because of this error, Mr. R should have been in a lower criminal history category, and he should not have received a pre-deportation felony enhancement. Mr. R’s actual Guidelines range should have been forty-six to fifty-seven months.

This case illustrates several absurdities about unlawful reentry sentencing. First is the strange focus on the timing of the first deportation. Mr. R was deported from the United States multiple times, but his recommended sentence was dramatically increased because his first deportation happened to occur between two felony convictions. Had his first deportation happened before 1995 or after 1998, his Guidelines range would have been at least five years lower.364Removing 8 points brings the range from 130–162 months down to 63–79 months. Second is the importance of supervision violations. Because they extend the clock on very old convictions, large swings in sentence length can turn on precisely when a probation or parole violation occurred. And because the Guidelines count violations as part of the original conviction, two completely concurrent sentences (one for a new crime and one for a supervision violation) are treated as separate sentences of the same length. Third is how crucial the Guidelines make difficult-to-find state records. Mr. R’s defense lawyer did not know about the parole violations that, according to the probation officer, made the 1995 convictions count against Mr. R in 2018. And neither the lawyer nor the probation officer found the document in Mr. R’s prison file that proved the convictions were, in fact, too old. When large sentence swings turn on the precise details of state cases, defendants are at the mercy of state agencies’ variable recordkeeping practices.

Mr. R’s case is exceptional in some respects, including that his sentence was unusually long for a reentry case.365Supra notes 232–34 and accompanying text. But the problems it illustrates are endemic to the reentry guideline. They emerge in one form or another in thousands of cases every year. And his case also follows a familiar pattern for reentry prosecutions. Mr. R spent nearly his entire life in the United States. It is where his family lives and it is the only country he considers home. But he also accumulated a serious criminal record in his late teens and early twenties. Now, as a man in his forties whose entire life is in the United States, he keeps trying to return.366There is significant empirical literature documenting that people age out of crime after their twenties. See Rachel Barkow, Prisoners of Politics 80–81 (2019). And, because of the reentry guidelines’ double enhancements, those convictions from his youth keep triggering lengthy sentences every time he comes back.

IV.  Sentencing Constitutionalism

This Article has shown that the federal sentencing system discriminates against undocumented immigrants. So what can be done about it? Naturally, Congress could amend the First Step Act so that immigrants receive earned time credit. The Sentencing Commission could also rewrite the reentry guideline to remove its extra criminal history enhancements. Such legislative fixes would be straightforward. This Part will thus focus instead on what can be done by federal judges and the lawyers who appear before them.367It is worth noting that the last two major changes to the reentry guideline were motivated, in significant part, by widespread judicial variances. See 8 U.S.C.A. § 1101(43); see supra note 129, 139–42 and accompanying text. See also Eric Fish, Sentencing and Interbranch Dialogue, 105 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 549, 549 (2015). A constitutional Equal Protection challenge seems like an intuitive strategy.368Since we are discussing the federal government, technically, the Due Process Clause is the vehicle for constitutional Equal Protection norms. Bolling v. Sharpe, 347 U.S. 497, 499 (1954); United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744, 774 (2013) (“The liberty protected by the Fifth Amendment’s Due Process Clause contains within it the prohibition against denying to any person the equal protection of the laws”). But that approach faces significant obstacles under current case law. The Supreme Court has disallowed racial disparate impact claims, and it grants the federal government substantial leeway to discriminate by immigration status.369See, e.g., McCleskey v. Kemp, 481 U.S. 279, 280 (1987); Mathews v. Diaz, 426 U.S. 67, 68 (1976). Such doctrinal hurdles may be surmountable, but advocates challenging these sentencing policies have yet to overcome them.

This Part proposes another approach, herein labeled “sentencing constitutionalism.” The basic idea is that sentencing decisions are less constrained than other judicial decisions. In the sentencing context, judges exercise normative discretion over the size of the punishment and the reasons that justify it. And judges can include amongst those reasons a desire to advance underenforced constitutional norms.370See Lawrence Sager, Fair Measure: The Legal Status of Underenforced Constitutional Norms, 91 Harv. L. Rev. 1212, 1213 (1978). Because so much deference is built into modern Equal Protection doctrine, many instances of clear discrimination go unremedied in formal constitutional review. Recognizing this, several scholars have developed a theory of “administrative constitutionalism.”371See supra note 24. These scholars have observed that executive branch agencies use their policymaking discretion to combat forms of discrimination, such as racial disparate impact, that cannot be remedied in court. Judges should do the same in the immigrant sentencing context. Specifically, judges should counteract the racial and immigration-status-based discrimination built into federal sentencing law by (1) refusing to apply the reentry guideline’s recidivist enhancements, and (2) discounting immigrants’ sentences to account for the fact that they cannot earn First Step Act credits.372Some federal judges have done this. See, e.g., United States v. Zapata-Trevino, 378 F. Supp. 2d 1321, 1327–28 (D.N.M. 2005) (granting a substantial downward variance in a reentry case, and citing as reasons both the unfairness of the Guidelines double counting criminal history and the fact that the defendant will be ineligible for early release or BOP programming); United States v. Navarro-Diaz, 420 F.3d 581, 588–89 (6th Cir. 2005) (remanding for post-Booker resentencing where sentencing judge indicated defendant’s ineligibility for halfway house would have merited a lower sentence); United States v. Galvez-Barrios, 355 F. Supp. 2d 958, 964 (E.D. Wis. 2005); United States v. Santos, 406 F. Supp. 2d 320, 324 (S.D.N.Y. 2005). Many federal judges have already embraced this kind of approach in the crack cocaine sentencing context. The crack/powder disparity in federal sentencing law is racially discriminatory, and Equal Protection challenges have entirely failed to remedy it. However, federal judges have somewhat counteracted this discrimination in their sentencing decisions. Numerous judges have explicitly rejected the higher crack guideline as a matter of policy. And overall, federal judges vary downward from the Guidelines range in most crack cocaine cases. This systematic judicial rejection of the crack guideline is motivated by constitutional equality concerns. Judges should do the same with reentry sentences.

A.  A Two-Track Model of Equal Protection at Sentencing

Immigrant defendants can challenge the sentencing discrimination described above as violating Equal Protection. This argument can be made as a constitutional challenge to the validity of the laws themselves. It can also be made as a quasi-constitutional appeal to judges’ discretionary sentencing power. The former strategy runs into major obstacles in the form of deference principles established by the Supreme Court. The latter strategy lacks the compulsory force of law, but avoids the limitations of contemporary Equal Protection doctrine. Here both strategies will be explored in turn.

Both the First Step Act and the reentry guideline explicitly discriminate against defendants based on their immigration status.373The operative First Step Act provision only applies to noncitizens with a deportation order. 18 U.S.C. § 3632(d)(4)(E). And the reentry guideline is exclusively used for crimes with non-citizenship as an element, excluding numerous entry crimes applicable to citizens. See supra notes 236–38 and accompanying text. Numerous defendants have argued that these laws are therefore unconstitutional.374For the reentry guideline see, e.g., United States v. Valdez-Cejas, No. 21-10659, 2022 U.S. App. LEXIS 21355, at *1 (5th Cir. Aug. 2, 2022); United States v. Osorto, 995 F.3d 801, 807–08 (11th Cir. 2021); United States v. Alejo-Pena, 474 F. App’x 137, 137–38 (4th Cir. 2012); United States v. Ruiz-Chairez, 493 F.3d 1089, 1090 (9th Cir. 2007); United States v. Mendoza-Hinojosa, No. 99-50327, 2000 U.S. App. LEXIS 8068 at *5–7 (9th Cir. Apr. 20, 2000); United States v. Cardenas-Alvarez, 987 F.2d 1129, 1133–34 (5th Cir. 1993); United States v. Adeleke, 968 F.2d 1159, 1160–61 (11th Cir. 1992); United States v. Ceron-Sanchez, 222 F.3d 1169, 1173 (9th Cir. 2000); . For the First Step Act see, e.g., Lomeli v. Birkholz, No. CV 23-9461-MRA (JPR), 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 131885, at *3 (C.D. Cal. June 18, 2024); Cheng v. United States, 725 F. Supp. 3d 432, 437–38 (S.D.N.Y. Mar. 26, 2024); Murillo-Cabezas v. F.C.I. Otisville Warden, No. 23-CV-11329, 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 139640, at *2 (S.D.N.Y. Aug. 2, 2024); .United States v. Arellano-Felix, No. 97-CR-2520-LAB-1, 2023 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 20796, at *3 (S.D. Cal. Jan. 31, 2023). To date, such arguments have not found success. Defendants have been unable to overcome the Supreme Court’s deference to the federal government when it comes to immigration policy. Under the plenary power doctrine, the Court gives Congress and the President broad leeway to enact policies that discriminate by immigration status.375See Mathews v. Diaz, 426 U.S. 67, 81–82 (1976) (“The reasons that preclude judicial review of political questions also dictate a narrow standard of review of decisions made by the Congress or the President in the area of immigration and naturalization.”); Michael Wishnie, Laboratories of Bigotry? Devolution of the Immigration Power, Equal Protection, and Federalism, 76 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 493, 499 n. 31 (2001). The Court has directed greater scrutiny at state laws that harm immigrants, but that is not helpful in the federal sentencing context.376See Graham v. Richardson, 403 U.S. 365, 374 (1971) (applying strict scrutiny to strike down an Arizona law requiring fifteen years of residency for noncitizens before they could receive welfare benefits); Plyler v. Doe, 457 U.S. 202, 230 (1982) (applying rational-basis-with-bite scrutiny to strike down a Texas law excluding undocumented immigrant children from public schools). See also Diaz, 426 U.S. at 85 (distinguishing between the high scrutiny applied to state governments when they discriminate by immigration status and the low scrutiny applied to the federal government). Perhaps more usefully, the Court in Hampton v. Wong did apply heightened scrutiny to federal agency regulations that discriminate against immigrants.377Hampton v. Wong, 426 U.S. 88, 116 (1976). Wong involved a Civil Service Commission regulation excluding all noncitizens from federal employment.378Id. at 90–99. The Court applied heightened scrutiny to this regulation, reasoning that the plenary power doctrine does not protect agency rules unless they are mandated by Congress or the President.379Id. at 103. The Court held that when an agency discriminates by immigration status, it must demonstrate both an “overriding national interest” and evidence that the policy was “actually intended to serve” that interest.380Id. Because the Guidelines are written by an independent agency (the Sentencing Commission), Wong may support a constitutional challenge to the reentry guideline.381By contrast, the discriminatory First Step Act provisions were passed by Congress. The post-deportation enhancement seems especially vulnerable, since it (1) is not connected to Congress’s statutory maximum increase, which applies only to pre-deportation felonies, and (2) does not meaningfully deter reentry because it punishes only post-reentry conduct. Nonetheless, Wong-based challenges to the reentry guideline have yet to find success in court.382So far, such challenges have only been brought in the Eleventh Circuit. See generally United States v. Osorto, 995 F.3d 801 (11th Cir. 2021); United States v. Huerta-Carranza, No. 20-12038, 2022 U.S. App. LEXIS 13953 (11th Cir. May 24, 2022); but see Osorto, 995 F.3d at 824 (Martin, J., concurring) (finding Guidelines Manual § 2L1.2(b)(3) unconstitutional under Wong).

Defendants could also argue that the reentry guideline and the First Step Act discriminate by race and ethnicity. Nearly every person harmed by these rules is of Latin American ancestry.383Supra note 4 and accompanying text. And policies that discriminate by race are subjected to strict scrutiny.384See, e.g., Adarand Constructors, Inc. v. Pena, 515 U.S. 200, 202 (1995). The problem, however, is that these rules are facially neutral as to race, and the Supreme Court has foreclosed Equal Protection challenges based on disparate impact claims.385See United States v. Armstrong, 517 U.S. 456, 465 (1996); McCleskey v. Kemp, 481 U.S. 279, 292 (1987); Washington v. Davis, 426 U.S. 229, 230 (1976). A law could thus apply against only one race ninety-nine percent of the time and still be upheld in court because it is facially neutral. The Court has carved out one important exception to this rule: under the Arlington Heights test, a formally race-neutral law violates Equal Protection if it was enacted with racist purposes and has a racially disparate impact.386Vill. of Arlington Heights v. Metro. Hous. Dev. Corp., 429 U.S. 252, 253 (1977). A defendant could try to bring such a challenge to the First Step Act or the reentry guideline. In the guideline context, this would likely mean emphasizing the racist panic in Florida that gave rise to the double criminal history enhancements. In the First Step Act context, it would mean focusing on the Trump Administration’s 2018 nativism. However, Arlington Heights challenges face two significant hurdles. First is the problem of proving intent—federal courts adopt a strong presumption that government action is not racially motivated.387See, e.g., Abbott v. Perez, 585 U.S. 579, 603 (2018). Second is the problem of reenactment—if a rule is enacted for discriminatory reasons at Time One, and then reenacted for different reasons at Time Two, courts often treat Time Two as decisive. For example, many defendants have argued that the unlawful reentry statute is itself unconstitutional due to its racist history.388See, e.g., United States v. Carrillo-Lopez, 68 F.4th 1133, 1138 (9th Cir. 2023); United States v. Gonzalez-Nane, No. 23-1418, 2024 U.S. App. LEXIS 17614 at *1 (3d Cir. July 17, 2024); United States v. Sanchez-Garcia, 98 F.4th 90 (4th Cir. 2024); United States v. Amador-Bonilla, 102 F.4th 1110, 1113 (10th Cir. 2024); United States v. Viveros-Chavez, 114 F.4th 618, 618–19 (7th Cir. 2024). While federal courts have largely conceded that the law’s original enactment was racist, they have unanimously upheld the law because it was later reenacted.389See Adarand Constructors, 515 U.S. at 237..

Modern Equal Protection doctrine thus erects significant barriers to immigrants’ antidiscrimination claims. While these barriers may be surmountable in some cases, they significantly limit the potential of constitutional challenges against the First Step Act and the reentry guideline. Another option would be to appeal to district judges’ sentencing discretion. After Booker, sentencing judges do not have to follow the Guidelines.390United States v. Booker, 543 U.S. 220 (2005). They can sentence a defendant anywhere within the statutory range, subject only to deferential appellate review for reasonableness.391Id. at 260–65. Because the judge is the key decisionmaker at sentencing, rather than Congress or the executive, the deference doctrines discussed above lack purchase. A judge can use their discretion to counteract race-based and immigration-status-based discrimination built into the federal sentencing rules. And judges should do so to vindicate a constitutional equality norm that, because of those deference doctrines, goes widely underenforced.392See Lawrence Sager, Fair Measure: The Legal Status of Underenforced Constitutional Norms, 91 Harv. L. Rev. 1212, 1215–19 (1978) (observing that constitutional norms often go underenforced by federal courts because of institutional deference concerns, and arguing that such norms are enforceable by other actors). Constitutional norms can thereby have wider play in the discretionary sentencing context than they do in the judicial review context. This idea will here be called “sentencing constitutionalism.”

Administrative constitutionalism is a close analogue to sentencing constitutionalism. In numerous contexts, scholars have observed administrative agencies using their policymaking discretion to advance constitutional norms beyond the level required by courts. For example, in the 1960s both the Federal Communications Commission and the Federal Power Commission interpreted the Equal Protection Clause as requiring regulated companies to achieve racial equality in employment.393See Lee, supra note 24. In the 1940s and 1950s, the Federal Social Security Board enforced an Equal Protection norm safeguarding the welfare rights of the poor.394See Tani, Administrative Equal Protection, supra note 24. During the Obama Administration, the Department of Housing and Urban Development adopted rules requiring recipients of federal funding to affirmatively reduce racial housing disparities.395See Emerson, supra note 24. And, in the criminal justice context, contemporary federal (and some state) prosecutors have adopted a wide array of self-limiting rules that protect defendants’ constitutional rights beyond what courts require.396See Fish, supra note 24. In these examples and others, agencies go above the floor set by judicial doctrine and implement a more robust vision of constitutional rights. They do so through their own discretionary rulemaking authority. Judges, when they sentence defendants, operate in a similar context. Deference doctrines like plenary power over immigration, the prohibition on disparate impact claims, and others lack purchase because judges are themselves determining sentences. So long as they do not violate the law, judges can go above the constitutional floor just as agencies have.397Some of the examples of administrative constitutionalism, especially those involving employment-based affirmative action, might be challenged as unlawful under the Supreme Court’s recent affirmative action decisions. See, e.g., Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harv. Coll., 143 S. Ct. 2141, 2148 (2023). However, sentencing constitutionalism, at least as described in this Article, is not vulnerable to such a challenge because it does not involve classification by race. Policymaking discretion thus lets them implement constitutional antidiscrimination norms to a greater degree than formal doctrine requires.

Sentencing constitutionalism is also similar to the concept of an imperfect defense.398In the homicide context, the term “imperfect self-defense” sometimes refers to a defense that defeats a murder charge but not a manslaughter charge. See, e.g., Judicial Council of Cal., Criminal Jury Instructions (CALCRIM) No. 571 (2024) (Voluntary Manslaughter: Imperfect Self-Defense or Defense of Another). Here I focus instead on the use of an imperfect defense to justify a lower sentence. In criminal trials, defenses are binary. The judge either will or will not let the defendant argue a defense, and the jury either will or will not acquit based on a defense. Because a successful defense exonerates completely, the formal elements of defenses are often written quite narrowly. The federal duress defense, for example, only applies where the defendant faces an “immediate threat of death or serious bodily injury.”399Debra Oakes, Annotation, Availability of Defense of Duress or Coercion in Prosecution for Violation of Federal Narcotics Laws, 71 A.L.R. Fed. 2d 481 (2013). The most common version of the insanity defense is limited to situations where the defendant either (1) did not know what they were doing or (2) was incapable of understanding that their action was wrongful.400See Clark v. Arizona, 548 U.S. 735, 747 (2006). And California’s entrapment defense only applies where the police conduct would cause a “normally law-abiding person” to commit the crime.401CALCRIM No. 3408 (2024). Because these and other defenses are defined narrowly, they fail to exonerate the defendant in many cases where it seems like they should apply. Take, for example, someone who committed a crime on the orders of their abusive partner, but was not in immediate peril at the time of the crime. That person will not satisfy the elements of a duress defense, even though the moral purpose underlying the defense clearly applies.402See, e.g., United States v. Willis, 38 F.3d 170, 176 (5th Cir. 1994). In cases like these, many U.S. jurisdictions lower the defendant’s sentence to account for the “imperfect” defense.403See Hessick & Berman, supra note 28, at 188–91. The Federal Sentencing Guidelines, for example, enumerate imperfect duress as a reason for downward departure.404Guidelines Manual § 5K2.12 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 2023). Several federal circuits have also recognized imperfect entrapment as a legitimate basis for downward departure.405See, e.g., United States v. Bala, 236 F.3d 87, 92 (2d Cir. 2000); United States v. Garza–Juarez, 992 F.2d 896, 912 (9th Cir. 1993); United States v. Osborne, 935 F.2d 32, 35 n. 3 (4th Cir. 1991); United States v. Barth, 990 F.2d 422, 424–25 (8th Cir. 1993); United States v. McKeever, 824 F.3d 1113 (D.C. Cir. 2016). And numerous states’ sentencing statutes specifically list imperfect defenses as mitigating factors.406See, e.g., Cal. R. of Court 4.423(a)(4) (2022); Haw. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 706-621(2)(c) (West 2025); Idaho Code Ann. § 19-2521(2)(d) (West 2020); 730 Ill. Comp. Stat. Ann. 5/5-5-3.1 (2022); Ind. Code Ann. § 35-38-1-7.1(b)(4) (West 2025); La. Code Crim. Proc. Ann. art. 894.1(B)(25) (2010); N.J. Stat. Ann. § 2C:44-1(b)(4) (2023); Ohio Rev. Code Ann. § 2929.12 (West) (2014); Tenn. Code Ann. § 40-35-113(2)-(3) (West 2022); Alaska Stat. § 12.55.155(d)(20) (2014); Hessick & Berman, supra note 28 at 188 n. 108–13 (listing state statutes). Such imperfect defenses are structurally similar to sentencing constitutionalism. Both involve situations where a defendant’s legal argument has strong moral force (e.g., a duress defense or discrimination claim). However, the argument fails in court for technical reasons (e.g. the defense is too narrowly defined, or the discrimination claim is denied out of deference and administrability concerns). In such circumstances, judges can use their sentencing discretion

to compensate for the narrowness of formal law. They can lower a defendant’s sentence to account for the injustice that otherwise goes unremedied.407Legal scholars have called for similar sentencing-based remedies in the context of Fourth Amendment suppression motions and prosecutorial misconduct. See Harry M. Caldwell & Carol A. Chase, The Unruly Exclusionary Rule: Heeding Justice Blackmun’s Call to Examine the Rule in Light of Changing Judicial Understanding About Its Effects Outside the Courtroom, 78 Marq. L. Rev. 45, 70–74 (1994); Sonja B. Starr, Sentence Reduction as a Remedy for Prosecutorial Misconduct, 97 Geo. L.J. 1509 (2009).

Sentencing constitutionalism also finds conceptual support in Justice Anthony Kennedy’s concurrence in Beckles v. United States.408Beckles v. United States, 580 U.S. 256, 270–71 (2017) (Kennedy, J., concurring). In Beckles, the Supreme Court held that defendants cannot bring constitutional vagueness challenges to the Sentencing Guidelines.409Id. at 270. The majority reasoned that because the Guidelines are purely advisory post-Booker, they do not raise the same due process concerns as a vague criminal statute.410Id. at 264–67. Justice Kennedy wrote separately to note that constitutional vagueness challenges should still have a place in discretionary sentencing decisions. However, he posited that “the realm of judicial discretion in sentencing” required “some other explication of the constitutional limitations.”411Id. at 271. He thus suggested that the Constitution should be operationalized differently at sentencing. That is also the intuition behind sentencing constitutionalism. Indeed, Kennedy’s reasoning could cover a variety of criminal procedure rights that do not normally apply at sentencing.412See Carissa Byrne Hessick & F. Andrew Hessick, Recognizing Constitutional Rights at Sentencing, 99 Calif. L. Rev. 47, 56–73 (2011) (listing sentencing factors that would violate ordinary constitutional rights if such rights applied in the sentencing context). The right to confront witnesses, the prohibition on double jeopardy, the right not to be punished for acquitted conduct, the privilege against self-incrimination, and other constitutional principles can be incorporated into the discretionary sentencing context (perhaps in a modified form with more judicial flexibility).413See id.; Shaakirrah R. Sanders, Unbranding Confrontation as Only a Trial Right, 65 Hastings L.J. 1257 (2014) (arguing that confrontation rights should apply at sentencing); Carissa Byrne Hessick & Andrew Hessick, Double Jeopardy as a Limit on Punishment, 97 Cornell L. Rev. 45 (2011) (arguing that double jeopardy should apply at sentencing to limit recidivist enhancements); see, e.g., United States v. Jordan, 256 F.3d 922, 929 (9th Cir. 2001) (imposing a “clear and convincing” standard of proof for unusually large sentencing enhancements, as opposed to the normal “preponderance” standard). This would particularly make sense in the federal system, where trials have all but disappeared and there is far more litigation at sentencing than at the guilt-or-innocence phase.414Nearly all federal convictions are the product of guilty pleas, meaning little or no litigation normally occurs prior to the conviction. See John Gramlich, Fewer Than 1% of Federal Criminal Defendants Were Acquitted in 2022, Pew Rsch. Ctr. (June 14, 2023), https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2023/06/14/fewer-than-1-of-defendants-in-federal-criminal-cases-were-acquitted-in-2022 [https://perma.cc/N994-ZPP2]. But due to the guidelines system and the norm of judicial discretion over sentencing, there is often vigorous litigation over sentencing issues. Thus sentencing constitutionalism, in addition to providing an alternative remedy for Equal Protection claims, might also bring some of the Constitution’s criminal procedure architecture into the sentencing process.

B.  Sentencing Constitutionalism and The Crack/Powder Disparity

The history of federal crack cocaine sentencing provides a real-world case study of sentencing constitutionalism. The story begins in 1986, with the tragic death of a basketball player named Len Bias. Bias died after using cocaine on the night he was drafted into the NBA.415See Adam M. Acosta, Len Bias’ Death Still Haunts Crack-Cocaine Offenders After Twenty Years: Failing to Reduce Disproportionate Crack-Cocaine Sentences Under 18 U.S.C. § 3582, 53 How. L.J. 825, 826–27 (2010). Ironically, Bias died after using powder cocaine. The public reaction to his death launched a nationwide media-driven moral panic over crack cocaine.416See Sklansky, supra note 34, at 1293–97; Doris Marie Provine, Unequal Under Law: Race in the War on Drugs 105–06 (2007) (“In July, the three networks offered seventy-four evening news segments on drugs, half about crack. In the three months before the 1986 election, there were one thousand stories discussing crack. Fifteen million viewers watched a CBS documentary on crack in the fall of 1986, the highest on record for a news documentary.”). This panic had a clear racial dimension, as crack cocaine abuse was widely perceived to be an epidemic amongst African-American individuals.417See Theresa Runstedtler, Racial Bias: The Black Athlete, Reagan’s War on Drugs, and Big-Time Sports Reform, 55 Am. Stud. 85, 89–94 (2016); Sklansky, supra note 34, at 1290–95; Provine, supra note 417, at 88–100. Politicians and the wider public feared that crack use was spreading from the inner cities to suburbia.418See Sklansky, supra note 34, at 1293–94; Provine, supra note 417, at 98–99; Runstedtler, supra note 418 at 90–91. For example, Senator Lawton Chiles inserted a Florida newspaper article into the Congressional Record that reported: “Less than a block from where unsuspecting White retirees play tennis, bands of young Black men push their rocks on passing motorists, interested or not.”419132 Cong. Rec. 8292 (daily ed. 1986) (entering the article “It’s Cheap, It’s Available and It’s Ravaging Society” by Paul Blythe of the Palm Beach Post into the Congressional Record). The article also connects crack sales to Chilton’s theme of Haitian drug dealing. Id. (“Most of the dealers, as with past drug trends, are black or Hispanic, police said. Haitians also comprise a large number of those selling cocaine rocks, authorities said.”). See supra notes 58–61 & accompanying text.

Responding to this panic, Congress enacted the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986.420Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986, Pub. L. No. 99-570, 100 Stat. 3207 (codified as amended at 21 U.S.C. § 801). Senator Chiles was one of the “prime movers” behind the law.421Provine, supra note 417 at 112. It created new mandatory minimum penalties for federal drug trafficking crimes, which were triggered by a much lower quantity of crack than of powder cocaine. The law provided a ten-year mandatory minimum sentence for crimes involving five kilograms of powder cocaine, but just fifty grams of crack.42221 U.S.C. § 841(b)(1)(A)(ii)-(iii). Similarly, it provided a five-year mandatory minimum for 500 grams of powder but just five grams of crack.42321 U.S.C. § 841(b)(1)(B)(ii)-(iii). This 100-to-1 ratio was not the product of any systematic study of the drugs’ relative effects—Congress’s factfinding process was perfunctory.424See Vagins & McCurdy, supra note 31, at 1–2 (“[T]here was no committee report to document Congress’ intent in passing the Act or to analyze the legislation. Few hearings were held in the House on the enhanced penalties for crack offenders, and the Senate conducted only a single hearing on the 100:1 ratio, which only lasted a few hours.”); Barkow, supra note 367, at 74 (“We initially came out of committee with a 20-to-1 ratio. By the time we finished on the floor, it was 100-to-1. We didn’t really have an evidentiary basis for it.”). Rather, legislators engaged in a one-way auction, ratcheting up the crack cocaine penalties in a competition to show which party could look tougher.425See Sklansky, supra note 34, at 1296.

The higher penalties for crack had a clear disparate impact on African American defendants. In 1993, 88.3% of federal crack cocaine defendants were Black and only 4.1% were White.426U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, Special Report to Congress: Cocaine and Federal Sentencing Policy xi (1995) [1995 Report]. By comparison, powder cocaine defendants were 27.4% Black and 32% White.427Id. The average federal drug sentence for a Black defendant went from 11% higher than that of a White defendant in 1986 to 49% higher four years later.428See Vagins & McCurdy, supra note 31, at 3. Black defendants sentenced under the new law brought Equal Protection challenges, arguing that this crack/powder disparity was racially discriminatory. Such Equal Protection claims succeeded, albeit temporarily, in only two cases. Judge Clyde Cahill of the Eastern District of Missouri struck down the crack/powder disparity on Equal Protection grounds, finding that the 1986 Congress was motivated by unconscious anti-Black racism.429United States v. Clary, 846 F. Supp. 768, 797 (E.D. Mo. 1994). Judge Cahill’s ruling was then reversed by the Eighth Circuit.430United States v. Clary, 34 F.3d 709, 714 (8th Cir. 1994). The Minnesota Supreme Court also struck down a state statute creating higher penalties for crack than powder cocaine, concluding that it violated the state constitution.431State v. Russell, 477 N.W.2d 886 (Minn. 1991). The Minnesota legislature responded by increasing the penalties for powder cocaine to match those of crack.432Minn. Sent’g Guidelines Comm’n, Report to the Legislature on Drug Offender Sentencing Issues 73 (2004). Beyond those two outliers, such Equal Protection challenges failed. The federal courts of appeal unanimously upheld the disproportionate punishment of crack defendants.433See, e.g., United States v. Frazier, 981 F.2d 92 (3d Cir. 1992); United States v. D’Anjou, 16 F.3d 604 (4th Cir. 1994); United States v. Galloway, 951 F.2d 64 (5th Cir. 1992); United States v. Lawrence, 951 F.2d 751 (7th Cir. 1991); United States v. Harding, 971 F.2d 410 (9th Cir. 1992); United States v. Angulo-Lopez, 7 F.3d 1506 (10th Cir. 1993); United States v. King, 972 F.2d 1259 (11th Cir. 1992); see Jamie Fellner, Race, Drugs, and Law Enforcement in the United States, 20 Stan. L. & Pol’y Rev. 257, 279 n.90 (2009) (collecting cases); 1995 Report, supra note 427, at 118. As the Fourth Circuit explained: “[T]here is evidence that the line Congress and the Sentencing Commission have drawn has a disproportionate impact upon blacks. But this is not sufficient to make out an Equal Protection violation.”434D’Anjou, 16 F.3d at 612.

When the Sentencing Commission published the first Guidelines Manual in 1988, it based drug trafficking sentences on the mandatory minimums set by Congress.435See Carol S. Steiker, Lessons from Two Failures: Sentencing for Cocaine and Child Pornography Under the Federal Sentencing Guidelines in the United States, 76 Law & Contemp. Probs. 27, 29 (2013); Kimbrough v. United States, 552 U.S. 85, 96–97 (2007). The centerpiece of the drug trafficking guideline is a “Drug Quantity Table” that specifies the defendant’s base offense level.436Guidelines Manual § 2D1.1 (U.S. Sent’g Comm’n 1988). This Table gives the defendant an offense level between six and thirty-six depending on the type and amount of drug involved in the crime. Following Congress, the Commission set the amount of crack cocaine corresponding to each level on the Table at 1/100th the amount of powder cocaine at that same level. So, for example, a defendant would have a base offense level of 28 for 2.0–2.9 grams of crack cocaine or 200–299 grams of powder cocaine.437Id. This gave defendants with crack much higher sentences than defendants with an equivalent amount of powder. Appeals courts rejected defendants’ Equal Protection challenges to the Guidelines, using the same reasoning that they applied to the underlying statute.438See, e.g., United States v. Reece, 994 F.2d 277 (6th Cir.1993); United States v. Williams, 982 F.2d 1209 (8th Cir.1992); United States v. Turner, 928 F.2d 956 (10th Cir.); United States v. Stevens, 19 F.3d 93 (2d Cir. 1994). In 1995, the Sentencing Commission attempted to change the drug guideline in order to reduce the gap between crack and powder cocaine sentences.439See 1995 Report, supra note 427, at 198–200; Steiker, supra note 436, at 30–33. Congress, however, exercised its veto power over Guidelines amendments to keep the disparity in place.440See id. at 31. After the failed 1995 amendment, Congress retaliated against the Commission by refusing to confirm its members for several years until by 1998 there were none left. See William Sessions III, At the Crossroads of the Three Branches: The U.S. Sentencing Commission’s Attempts to Achieve Sentencing Reform in the Midst of Inter-Branch Power Struggles, 26 J.L. & Pol. 305, 319 (2011).

Then, in the 2005 case United States v. Booker, the Supreme Court made the Guidelines advisory.441United States v. Booker, 543 U.S. 220 (2005). Appropriately, Booker was a crack cocaine possession case in which the defendant was sentenced to 30 years for having 658.5 grams of crack cocaine. Id. at 227. This meant district judges could now choose to disregard the Guidelines and sentence defendants anywhere within the relevant statutory range. Federal judges soon took advantage of this new discretion to mitigate the crack/powder disparity. Citing racial discrimination concerns, numerous judges began to systematically sentence defendants below the Guidelines range in crack cocaine cases.442See, e.g., United States v. Perry, 389 F. Supp. 2d 278, 304 (D.R.I. 2005); United States v. Fisher, 451 F. Supp. 2d 553 (S.D.N.Y. 2005); United States v. Leroy, 373 F. Supp. 2d 887 (E.D. Wis. 2005); Simon v. United States, 361 F. Supp. 2d 35 (E.D.N.Y. 2005); United States v. Smith, 359 F. Supp. 2d 771 (E.D. Wis. 2005); United States v. Stukes, No. 12A04-0411-cr-605, 2005 WL 2560224 (S.D.N.Y. Oct. 12, 2005); United States v. Castillo, No. 03-cr-835, 2005 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 9780(S.D.N.Y. May 20, 2005); United States v. Beamon, 373 F.Supp.2d 878 (E.D.Wis.2005); United States v. Whigham, 754 F. Supp. 2d 239 (D. Mass. 2010); United States v. Gully, 619 F. Supp. 2d 633 (N.D. Iowa 2009); United States v. Lewis, 623 F. Supp. 2d 42 (D.D.C. 2009); see Steven L. Chanenson, Booker on Crack: Sentencing’s Latest Gordian Knot, 15 Cornell J.L. & Pub. Policy 551, 572–73 (2006) (collecting cases). One such judge noted that “[t]his Court’s conclusion that a non-Guideline sentence is called for is . . . supported by the vast majority of district courts that have evaluated the crack/powder cocaine sentencing disparity in the wake of Booker.”443Perry, 389 F. Supp. 2d at 304. The Supreme Court then confirmed judges’ power to categorically reject the crack cocaine guidelines in two decisions: Kimbrough v. United States and Spears v. United States.444Kimbrough v. United States, 552 U.S. 85 (2007); Spears v. United States, 555 U.S. 261 (2009) (per curiam). The Court also singled out the crack guideline for criticism in Kimbrough, noting that it was based solely on the mandatory minimums in the 1986 law, not on any empirical study of drug crimes or drug sentencing.445Kimbrough, 552 U.S. at 596. Since then, judges have increasingly used their discretion to lower crack cocaine sentences. The Sentencing Commission’s statistics show that the rate of below-Guideline sentences in crack cases has consistently been the highest of all major drug types.446See U.S. Sent’g Comm’n Interactive Data Analyzer, https://ida.ussc.gov/analytics/saw.dll?Dashboard [https://web.archive.org/web/20250417150512/https://ida.ussc.gov/analytics/saw.dll?Dashboard] (providing data since 2015); U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, 2023 Sourcebook of Federal Sentencing Statistics at D-14 (showing non-Guideline sentence rates for all the major drug types. Crack cocaine: 55.2%; Powder cocaine: 40.4%; Heroin: 40%; Marijuana: 33.9%; Methamphetamine: 40.8%; Fentanyl: 39.8%). The rate of downward variances has also steadily risen since Booker, and today more than half of all federal crack cocaine sentences are below the relevant Guidelines range.447Interactive Data Analyzer, supra note 447 (showing that the rate of variance in crack cases has gradually increased from 31.6% in 2015 to 55.2% in 2023).

This history is a real-world example of sentencing constitutionalism. The crack/powder sentencing disparity is clearly racially discriminatory. It was produced during a racialized moral panic over Black drug use, and it disproportionately burdens Black defendants. Due to the hollowed-out nature of Equal Protection doctrine, defendants were unable to convince judges to declare the crack/powder disparity unconstitutional. However, some judges have exercised their sentencing discretion to lessen the constitutional harm.

Judges should do the same thing in unlawful reentry cases. Indeed, there are deep parallels between crack cocaine sentencing and unlawful reentry sentencing. Both involve formally neutral guideline provisions that produce overwhelming disparate impacts according to race and ethnicity. Neither guideline provision was the product of any systematic study by the Commission. Both were essentially copied from recently enacted statutes that increased the punishment ranges. In both cases, the underlying statute was enacted during a racialized moral panic in the 1980s. Both statutes were championed by the same Senator (Lawton Chiles), indeed both were even enacted through bills with the title “Anti-Drug Abuse Act.” And constitutional Equal Protection challenges to both statutes have failed in the federal courts. The major difference is that judges have systematically used their discretion to mitigate sentencing discrimination in crack cocaine cases. They have not yet done so in unlawful reentry cases.

  Conclusion

This Article has shown that federal sentencing laws explicitly discriminate against undocumented immigrants. The Sentencing Guidelines give them duplicative recidivism enhancements that do not apply to U.S. citizens. The First Step Act denies them sentence reductions that U.S. citizens receive. This discrimination contributes to a racial and nationality-based hierarchy in the federal criminal justice system. Undocumented immigrants, nearly all of them Latin American, prosecuted for entering the United States, are treated as a legal underclass. They are punished more severely for past crimes and granted less mercy for current rehabilitation. Fortunately, federal district judges can help counteract this discrimination. Sentencing judges have the power to disregard the Guidelines’ duplicative enhancements. They also have the power to correct for immigrants’ exclusion from in-custody sentence reduction programs. For nearly twenty years, judges have mitigated a similar injustice in crack cocaine cases by systematically lowering sentences. They have done so out of recognition that the sentences for crack cocaine are racially discriminatory, and that this discrimination has gone unremedied in ordinary litigation. Judges should do the same for undocumented immigrants.


  Appendix

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 291

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 *Professor of Law, University of California at Davis. For their invaluable help the author would like to thank Jessie Agatstein, Elizabeth Arford, Amber Baylor, Marcus Bourassa, Jack Chin, Haiyun Damon-Feng, Ingrid Eagly, Sheldon Evans, Jailene Gutierrez, Deborah Kang, Doug Keller, Litzy Martinez Rodriguez, Emmanuel Mauleon, Sean McGuire, Jacob Schuman, Rory Van Loo, Charles Weisselberg, Rebecca Wexler, and the participants in Crimfest, Southwest Crim, the Yale Law PhD program colloquium, and faculty workshops at the University of California Irvine and the University of California Berkeley. Thank you also to the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their excellent editorial work.

Hiring and Firing Based on Political Views

INTRODUCTION

A law professor’s Wall Street Journal op-ed urged law firms not to hire anti-Zionist students who, in his words, “advocate hate and practice discrimination.”1Steven Davidoff Solomon, Don’t Hire My Anti-Semitic Law Students, Wall St. J. (Oct. 15, 2023, 4:30 PM), https://www.wsj.com/opinion/dont-hire-my-anti-semitic-law-students-protests-colleges-universities-jews-palestine-6ad86ad5 [https://archive.ph/CA79x]. Although discriminating against employees or prospective employees based on political speech is illegal in some places, including California, where the professor works,2Cal. Lab. Code §§ 98.6(a), 1101–02 (2024); Gay L. Students Ass’n. v. Pac. Tel. & Tel. Co., 595 P.2d 592, 610 n.16 (Cal. 1979) (interpreting §§ 1101–02 to cover prospective employees). For a review of laws on employment discrimination based on political party or viewpoint, see Eugene Volokh, Private Employees’ Speech and Political Activity: Statutory Protection Against Employer Retaliation, 16 Tex. Rev. L. & Pol. 295, 313–20 (2012). employers have announced similar positions,3See Seamus Webster, A Big Law Giant is Running Background Checks on Job Applicants Who Attended Anti-Israel Demonstrations, Fortune (July 10, 2024, 5:53 PM), https://fortune.com/2024/07/10/a-big-law-giant-is-running-background-checks-on-job-applicants-who-attended-anti-israel-demonstrations [https://perma.cc/3H5L-S7TH]; Justin Wise, Foley Sued for Revoking Job Over Israel-Palestine Comments (5), Bloomberg Law (May 29, 2024, 6:08 PM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/business-and-practice/foley-hire-who-lost-job-over-israel-palestine-comments-sues-firm. and private organizations have emerged to facilitate employment denial and other social and economic penalties for pro-Palestinian students, professors, and professionals.4Canary Mission, https://canarymission.org [https://perma.cc/L3U9-8DNA]. Of course, pro-Zionist groups are not alone in using economic boycotts to influence support for Israel. See David M. Halbfinger, Michael Wines & Steven Erlanger, Is B.D.S. Anti-Semitic? A Closer Look at the Boycott Israel Campaign, N.Y. Times (July 27, 2019), https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/27/world/middleeast/bds-israel-boycott-antisemitic.html [https://archive.ph/QpqMh].

These events are hardly unique. Employers have excluded workers because of their views on sex or gender identity, including opposition to same-sex intimacy,5A charity in England refused to hire a social worker who expressed religious opposition to same-sex intimacy. Dave Higgens & Hayley Coyle, Christian to Appeal over Job Tribunal Ruling, BBC (July 1, 2024), https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/crgr98ryw0ko [https://perma.cc/9ZDS-Z4HR]. In Australia, a contractor was dismissed for similar reasons. Paul Karp, Company that ‘Fired’ Woman for Saying ‘It’s OK to Vote No’ May Have Broken Law, Guardian (Sept. 20, 2017, 2:13 AM), https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2017/sep/20/company-that-fired-woman-for-saying-its-ok-to-vote-no-may-have-broken-law [https://perma.cc/2WA7-R5SZ]. support for same-sex marriage,6Employers in the U.S. have fired people for supporting same-sex marriage. Mike Moroski, Ohio Catholic School Assistant Principal, Fired After Writing Gay Marriage Blog, HuffPost (Feb. 11, 2013, 12:57 PM), https://www.huffpost.com/entry/mike-moroski-catholic-principal-gay-marriage-blog-ohio_n_2662928 [https://perma.cc/R8YT-RGKU]. and opinions that there are only two immutable sexes.7An English think tank did not renew a researcher’s contract for saying there are only two immutable sexes. See Forstater v. CGD Eur. & Ors [2021] UKEAT 0105_20_1006 (reversing the Central London Employment Tribunal’s decision and finding that denial of transgender identity is protected as a philosophical belief under the Equality Act 2010). Another Employment Tribunal case finding denial of transgender identity not protected was also reversed on appeal in Mackereth v. Dep’t for Work and Pensions [2022] EAT 99 (UK). For a critical analysis, see Sharon Cowan & Sean Morris, Should ‘Gender Critical’ Views About Trans People Be Protected as Philosophical Beliefs in the Workplace? Lessons for the Future from Forstater, Mackereth and Higgs, 51 Indus. L.J. 1, 27–30 (2022).

Employers have fired employees for political speech or affiliations. An English company fired a bus driver after he won an election as a member of a far-right political party with racist positions.8See Hugh Collins & Virginia Mantouvalou, Redfearn v. UK: Political Association and Dismissal, 76 Mod. L. Rev. 909, 910–11 (2013). For a review of English law on the topic, see Frank Cranmer, The Right to Freedom of Thought in the United Kingdom, 8 Eur. J. Comp. L. & Governance 146, 146 (2021). After the recent killing of right-wing activist Charlie Kirk, some conservatives successfully called for doxxing and firing people seen as celebrating his death or criticizing his views.9Alan Feuer, Ken Bensinger & Pooja Salhotra, Right-Wing Activists Urge Followers to Expose Those Celebrating Kirk Killing, N.Y. Times (Sept. 12, 2025), https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/12/us/politics/charlie-kirk-shooting-firings-celebration.html [https://archive.ph/B5mfd]; Josh Boak & Nicholas Riccardi, After Kirk’s Killing a Growing Chorus of Conservatives Wants His Critics Ostracized or Fired, Associated Press (last updated Sept. 14, 2025, 7:41 PM), https://apnews.com/article/kirk-trump-cancel-culture-assassination-4d69649e382ea46d8dcf794150a1d3c9 [https://archive.ph/3AVgC]. Disney fired The Mandalorian actor Gina Carano because she compared the treatment of Trump supporters to that of Jews during the Holocaust.10Maia Spoto, Disney Must Fight Musk-Backed ‘Mandalorian’ Actor Firing Suit, Bloomberg Law (July 25, 2024, 12:06 AM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/litigation/disney-must-fight-musk-backed-mandalorian-actor-firing-suit [https://archive.ph/MrB1W]. The Metropolitan Opera fired Russian-Austrian singer Anna Netrebko for refusing to condemn Vladimir Putin after he invaded Ukraine.11Javier C. Hernández, Anna Netrebko, Russian Diva, Is Out at the Metropolitan Opera, N.Y. Times (Mar. 3, 2022), https://www.nytimes.com/2022/03/03/arts/music/anna-netrebko-met-opera-ukraine.html [https://perma.cc/9ACF-Z6UB?type=image]. An arbitrator later ruled against the Metropolitan Opera (“the Met”), ordering compensation for canceled performances but not anticipated performances for which no contracts existed. Javier C. Hernández, Met Opera Ordered to Pay Anna Netrebko $200,000 for Canceled Performances, N.Y. Times (Mar. 17, 2023), https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/17/arts/music/met-opera-anna-netrebko.html [https://perma.cc/Q7J5-V9DZ?type=image]. Anna Netrebko attracted further criticism when she wore dark makeup in the opera Aida. Javier C. Hernández, Soprano Withdraws From Opera, Citing ‘Blackface’ in Netrebko’s ‘Aida’, N.Y. Times (July 15, 2022), https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/15/arts/music/angel-blue-anna-netrebko-blackface.html [https://perma.cc/22SC-T63K?type=image]. The Met then fired Netrebko’s opera singer husband for aggressively complaining about Netrebko being singled out. Francisco Salazar, Metropolitan Opera Fires Yusif Eyvazov, OperaWire (Mar. 17, 2023), https://operawire.com/metropolitan-opera-fires-yusif-eyvazov [https://perma.cc/TX38-2WX6?type=image]. Seventy-five years ago, people in some U.S. industries were fired and shunned for perceived affiliation with the Communist Party.12Ellen Schrecker & Phillip Deery, The Age of McCarthyism: A Brief History with Documents 1–3, 72–83 (2017).

How should we assess these actions? Should the law forbid employment denial based on political or moral views, association, or speech outside the workplace? Should our assessment depend on whether the employee has reasonable views? The existence of organized boycotts targeting unpopular views? The employer’s motive (non-complicity, association, hatred, punishment, profit, job-effectiveness)? The employer’s size, the kind of job, or the procedural posture (firing versus not hiring)?

How do these examples differ, if they do, from #MeToo era efforts to hold sexual harassers accountable, including public dissemination of alleged harasser lists13Constance Grady, The “Shitty Media Men” List, Explained, Vox (Jan. 11, 2018, 12:00 PM), https://www.vox.com/culture/2018/1/11/16877966/shitty-media-men-list-explained [https://perma.cc/WZ89-JAP3]. and the firing of accused harassers?14Jeff Green, #MeToo Has Implicated 414 High-Profile Executives and Employees in 18 Months, TIME (June 25, 2018, 11:49 AM), https://time.com/5321130/414-executives-metoo [https://archive.ph/8zYIG]. These examples might seem unrelated since sexual harassment involves harmful conduct, while ideological exclusion usually penalizes speech. However, some sexual harassment happens through speech, and some ideological commitments include actions such as donations to causes and political organizing. Moreover, hate speech is sometimes regarded as comparable to harmful actions. Is doxxing alleged harassers different from doxxing alleged antisemites or alleged Communists?

This Article has two aims. First, it explains why ideological employment exclusion is typically wrong and appropriately prohibited. Individuals and society suffer serious setbacks from ideological exclusion: undermining personal integrity (a person’s ability to live according to their values), chilling public discourse, and exacerbating affective polarization (the tendency to dislike and distrust those with opposing views). Employers, by contrast, have less at stake. Sometimes, employers use ideological exclusion to pursue unreasonable goals, including corruption, unjust punishment, and disrespectful uses of non-complicity. At other times, employers use ideological exclusion for legitimate purposes, including protecting their associational rights and speech, as well as pursuing profitability. However, employers can usually achieve these goals without undermining employee authenticity or valuable public ends.

Second, I use these examples of ideological exclusion to examine the moral limits of social pressure, helping to sort out a longstanding puzzle. Criticizing, shunning, shaming, and boycotting are essential to our freedom. We use them to communicate, achieve political goals, punish wrongdoers, enforce norms, and exercise associational freedom. They also threaten to undermine vital interests. We use them abusively to silence dissent, punish people unjustly, and treat excluded people with unwarranted disrespect. This puzzle is often linked to John Stuart Mill. He embraced our right to shun and criticize the objects of our contempt and valorized the social pressure created as the natural consequence of misbehavior. However, he feared these same

techniques would undermine freedom, inhibiting their targets’ speech and inducing stifling conformity.15John Stuart Mill advocated for a right to dissociate from those we regard with contempt. He also expressed concern about social pressure inhibiting speech and coercing conformity. See Dan Threet, Mill’s Social Pressure Puzzle, 44 Soc. Theory & Prac. 539, 546–51 (2018); T.M. Wilkinson, Mill’s On Liberty and Social Pressure, 32 Utilitas 219, 219, 231–32 (2020); Jeremy Waldron, Free Speech Apart from Law, 2 J. Free Speech L. 107, 117–22 (2022); Dale E. Miller, “We May Stand Aloof”: Mill’s Natural Penalties, 60 J. Hist. Phil. 453, 455–58 (2022).

I offer an account of social power’s limits that might address Mill’s puzzle. The account emphasizes fair norms of social cooperation. Most people want to speak freely, control associations, exert political influence, and punish wrongdoers. We also want to avoid pressures that undermine our freedom of association and speech, as well as unjust punishment. These interests sometimes conflict, and a fair resolution of conflicts requires setting reasonable terms of cooperation—terms justified by moral arguments that all reasonable people can accept. This Article uses employment denial to explore how fair norms of cooperation limit the permissible use of intentional and unintentional social pressure.

The Article includes five Parts. Part I outlines traditional justifications for banning ideological employment exclusion: it gives employers excessive control over employees’ lives, undermines democratic institutions, constitutes wrongful discrimination, and violates employee speech rights. These accounts are promising but insufficient. Part I then offers the Article’s central argument. Allowing ideological employment exclusion unfairly distributes opportunities for living with integrity and unnecessarily contributes to two social problems: self-censorship and political polarization. Part I presents the argument in general terms. Later parts fill in details and consider examples.

Part II discusses the intentional use of social pressure to change integrity-connected behavior. It argues that intentional uses of social pressure are rarely justified when the target behavior is central to integrity. They often aim to corrupt targets or impose unjust punishments. When intentional social pressure is used to impose deserved punishments, it risks dangerous expansion.

Sometimes, employers do not aim to change employee behavior. Instead, they risk public and private harm while pursuing aims connected to employer integrity, such as non-complicity, non-association, or employer speech. Non-complicity means avoiding certain connections (such as employment) with someone else’s allegedly immoral behavior. Part III argues that we should reject employer non-complicity as disrespectful and

that most employers can protect their integrity interests in speech and association in less harmful ways.

Part IV examines employer financial goals. For most employers, these too can be advanced in less harmful ways. A conclusion follows, offering final reflections that explain why the Article’s moral arguments counsel legal regulation. It revisits Mill’s puzzle and the moral limits of social pressure, returns to the examples that began the Article, and addresses the objection that we should allow employment exclusion against people who express hatred or other harmful views.

The Article does not detail how to structure legal rules, but several models are available. Throughout Europe and in several U.S. states, employment laws prohibit dismissal and sometimes refusal to hire based on philosophical or political beliefs, as well as speech and association outside of work.16The beliefs protected in Europe vary by country. The European Court of Human Rights has announced protection for religious and philosophical beliefs but has not extended that protection to political beliefs. Nonetheless, many European countries have statutes forbidding employment discrimination based on political beliefs. See Erica Howard, Eur. Parliamentary Res. Serv., Implementation of the Employment Equality Directive: The Principle of Non-Discrimination on the Basis of Religion or Belief 20–22 (2016), https://www.europarl.europa.eu/RegData/etudes/STUD/2016/536345/EPRS_STU(2016)536345_EN.pdf; Joined cases C-804/18 and C-341/19, WABE eV and MH Müller Handels, ECLI:EU:C:2021:594, ¶ 47 (July 15, 2021). These laws sometimes exclude hate speech, speech advocating violence, or speech that is unconnected to the speaker’s worldview.17For a review of U.S. laws, see Eugene Volokh, supra note 2, at 313–20. They also exempt some employers and sometimes provide defenses for business necessity. This Article focuses on hiring and firing private-sector employees based on their associations and speech outside the workplace on topics unrelated to their employment. Questions about speech in and about the workplace (such as criticizing an employer or seeking higher wages or unionization) and in government employment are important but raise distinct issues.18For a broad overview of speech and work generally, see Catherine L. Fisk, Freedom of Speech at and Away from Work, in The Oxford Handbook of the Law of Work 645–47 (2024).

I. The Harm of Ideological Employment Denial

Like everyone else, employers have property and associational rights. In our market economy, absent pressing contrary interests, perhaps employers should be able to select employees as they wish, including based on the employees’ views and values.

Moreover, social pressures, such as shunning, shaming, and boycotting, serve valuable functions. When people do or say objectionable things, we communicate our disdain and enforce norms through social exclusion. As people often say, “Freedom of speech does not mean freedom from consequences.” Such pressure also supplements legal regulation. For example, the #MeToo movement used shaming and shunning to punish and deter illegal behavior and reinforce values. Employers have a presumptive right to participate in social exclusion that communicates disdain and enforces norms.

Nevertheless, the examples mentioned above strike people as morally and legally problematic. What is wrong with denying someone employment based on their views, speech, and associations? In the next Section, I briefly evaluate four standard accounts and explain why they need to be supplemented. I devote the following two Sections to outlining an alternative account: ideological employment exclusion unreasonably undermines employee efforts to live with integrity and exacerbates social problems of censorship and polarization.

A. Four Traditional Approaches

Writers often approach ideological hiring and firing from the perspectives of employment law or democratic theory. Progressive employment scholars situate it in the broader problem of employer power: we should abolish at-will employment and limit employers’ control over employees’ private lives.19See, e.g., Jason Bosch, Note, None of Your Business (Interest): The Argument for Protecting All Employee Behavior with No Business Impact, 76 S. Cal. L. Rev. 639, 640–46, 648 (2003); Michael Selmi, Privacy for the Working Class: Public Work and Private Lives, 66 La. L. Rev. 1035, 1052–56 (2006); Samuel R. Bagenstos, Employment Law and Social Equality, 112 Mich. L. Rev. 225, 244–47 (2013). For a philosophical description, see Elizabeth Anderson, Private Government: How Employers Rule Our Lives (and Why We Don’t Talk About It) (2017). They lump ideological job denial with controlling employees’ diets, smoking habits, or sex lives.20Many statutes forbidding employer exclusion based on activities outside the workplace, including speech, initially aimed to protect workers’ right to smoke while not at work. Terry Morehead Dworkin, It’s My Life—Leave Me Alone: Off-the-Job Employee Associational Privacy Rights, 35 Am. Bus. L.J. 47, 50–51 (1997). Democratic theorists focus narrowly on exclusion based on party affiliation or support for specific candidates or ballot measures. Allowing employers to pressure employees about votes or political donations distorts our political process.21See, e.g., Alexander Hertel-Fernandez, American Employers as Political Machines, 79 J. Pol. 105, 108, 116 (2016); Jan Stuckatz, How the Workplace Affects Employee Political Contributions, 116 Am. Pol. Sci. R. 54, 65–67 (2022); Craig R. Senn, Ending Political Discrimination in the Workplace, 87 Mo. L. Rev. 365, 374–85 (2022).

I agree with both views, but they do not exhaust the problems with ideological hiring and firing. Many problematic job denials are unconnected to electoral politics. Although we have reason to worry about employers controlling their employees’ lives, control over their speech seems worse than control over their smoking (and should trouble people even if they do not object to employer power generally). For these reasons, we must supplement political and power concerns with a broader account.

Two other theories might better explain the range of concerns raised by ideological employment exclusion. Perhaps denying someone a job based on their views is wrongful discrimination, much like denying them a job based on their race, religion, or sex.22Human rights laws sometimes equate religious discrimination with belief discrimination, though this connection often excludes political beliefs and emphasizes philosophical beliefs. See Howard, supra note 16, at 13, 20–22. Alternatively, denying them a job based on their expression might violate their free speech rights.23For arguments to limit employment discrimination to protect free speech, see Eugene Volokh, Should the Law Limit Private-Employer-Imposed Speech Restrictions?, 2 J. Free Speech L. 269, 271–77 (2022) [hereinafter Should the Law Limit]; Larry Alexander, Free Speech and Private Censors, 2 J. Free Speech L. 17, 19 (2022). For a contrary view, see J.P. Messina, Private Censorship 64–87 (2024). Although these claims have merit, they are only partly persuasive without supplemental accounts.

The goals of discrimination law are disputed. Various theories emphasize anti-subordination, immutability, and formal equality. Anti-subordination accounts, which focus on unjust, persistent, and systemic disadvantages suffered by some groups, seem like a poor fit because many people who are denied employment based on their views are not subordinated. Some employers refuse to hire Trump supporters.24Paul Bedard, Workplace Bias: 1-in-5 Managers Won’t Hire Pro-Trump Workers, Wash. Exam’r (Aug. 19, 2019, 3:41 PM), https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/news/washington-secrets/1712420/workplace-bias-1-in-5-managers-wont-hire-pro-trump-workers [https://perma.cc/93XE-KSGM]. They are not part of a subordinated group. Nor are Anna Netrebko and Gina Carano. Although pro-Palestinian protesters are advocating for oppressed people, the protesters are not (or not uniformly) part of subordinated groups. Additionally, the companies that deny them jobs believe they support anti-subordination because they are trying to combat antisemitism. Moreover, we may wonder if some ideological groups, such as avowed racists, are justly marginalized and do not deserve protection from subordination.

Immutability is generally a problematic basis for banning discrimination.25See Jessica A. Clarke, Against Immutability, 125 Yale L.J. 2, 2 (2015). Even if we embrace immutability, it is unclear why we should regard ideas or their expression as immutable. People change their views and choose whether to speak. So, we need a theory to explain why pressuring people to change or hide their views is unreasonable.

Finally, formal accounts of equality must be supplemented to explain which features demand equal treatment and which allow unequal treatment. Formal equality advocates often quote Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s statement that we should judge people not “by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”26See, e.g., Peter C. Myers, The Case for Color-Blindness, Heritage Found. Essays: First Principles, Sept. 2019, at 2. One would think that a person’s beliefs form the core of their character’s content and that judging people by their beliefs shows them appropriate respect. Additionally, employees’ beliefs might be relevant to their job performance in ways their race and religion rarely are.

A free speech account seems more promising. Speech rights are not limited to subordinated groups or immutable characteristics. If employers can fire or refuse to hire people based on their expressed views, the prospect of lost employment might chill speech, harming individuals and society.

However, unlike discrimination, which is unlawful for many private entities,27Some libertarians disagree with this view. For a discussion, see David E. Bernstein, The Boundaries of Antidiscrimination Laws, in The Cambridge Handbook of Classical Liberal Thought 47 (2018). free speech requirements in the U.S.28Other countries’ free speech rights restrict private censorship. However, their speech rights are also more restricted than in the U.S. For a discussion of horizontal speech rights, see Stephen Gardbaum, The Structure of a Free Speech Right, in The Oxford Handbook of Freedom of Speech 213, 223–26 (2021). apply primarily to governments.29Some scholars advocate extending constitutional requirements to include select organizations such as universities and private entities that control communication channels. See Erin L. Miller, The Private Abridgment of Free Speech, 32 Wm. & Mary Bill Rts. J. 615, 617, 625 (2024). Even in countries that restrict private entities from limiting speech, the mere power to chill speech does not imply a duty to facilitate open dialogue.30Private power over free speech has recently attracted more scholarly attention. See Thomas Healy, Social Sanctions on Speech, 2 J. Free Speech L. 21, 21–23, 27–29 (2022); Evelyn Douek & Genevieve Lakier, Comment, Lochner.com?, 138 Harv. L. Rev. 100, 103 (2024); Eugene Volokh, Free Speech and Private Power, 138 Harv. L. Rev. F. 43, 43 (2024). For example, if young people refuse to date Trump supporters,31Justin Klawans, 71 Percent of Democrats in College Wouldn’t Date a Trump Voter, Poll Finds, Newsweek (Dec. 7, 2021, 11:21 PM), https://www.newsweek.com/71-percent-democrats-college-wouldnt-date-trump-voter-poll-finds-1657145 [https://perma.cc/WWB9-5ERR]. their dating choices might chill pro-Trump speech. Indeed, some evidence suggests that Republicans systematically lie about their politics on dating apps.32Kyle Harris, Why Your Dates May Be Lying About Being Republican, Colo. Indep. (Mar. 10, 2016), https://www.coloradoindependent.com/2016/03/10/why-your-dates-may-be-lying-about-being-republican [https://perma.cc/5XZV-R2F3]. Yet, refusing to date someone for political reasons does not violate their political or speech rights.

Of course, employment differs from dating in many ways, including the centrality of associational interests in dating. I devote much of this Article to explaining how employer-created incentives differ from other social pressures that might silence unpopular views. However, merely noting that social pressure can inhibit speech does not explain when and why we should regard it as violating speech rights.33For an argument that employment is a proper locus of free speech rights, see Volokh, Should the Law Limit, supra note 23, at 272. Explaining this requires addressing Mill’s puzzle.

B. Threats to Personal Integrity

We might address Mill’s puzzle and better understand employment denial by focusing on the value of living with integrity. Integrity (also called authenticity) means living according to the values we embrace by pursuing projects that match our values, avoiding actions that conflict with them, and, at least sometimes, revealing our values to others. Speech is critical to living with integrity in the context of social pressure, because being silenced by social pressure can render someone hypocritical.34Nicolas Cornell & Amy Sepinwall, Complicity and Hypocrisy, 19 Pol., Phil. & Econ. 154, 155–56, 162–63 (2020) (arguing that compelled complicity deprives its victims of moral standing to criticize others’ behavior because one has failed to live up to their moral commitments. Criticizing others would be a form of hypocrisy).

We cannot always live according to our values. Doing so may require actions that harm others, including undermining their integrity. A core goal of social cooperation is establishing institutions that enable people to live authentically and, when conflicts arise, distribute opportunities for authenticity equitably.35Alan Patten, The Normative Logic of Religious Liberty, 25 J. Pol. Phil. 129, 141 (2017).

These institutions sometimes place the responsibility for living authentically on individuals whose integrity is at risk. People must often be resilient in the face of pressure, protecting their capacity for authentic action and resisting incentives for hypocrisy. If I change or hide my views because I fear my friends will abandon me or people will criticize me, the fault lies with my weak character, not with my friends or critics. Resisting hypocrisy is my responsibility because criticism and friendships based on shared values are vital institutions that could not otherwise exist. This explains why those who will not date Trump supporters do not violate their speech or association rights. Nevertheless, a society in which people with unpopular views are broadly shunned and unable to find jobs does not sufficiently support authenticity. The question raised by the examples at the start of this Article (and the core of Mill’s puzzle) is how to allocate responsibility for sustaining authenticity between individual resilience and social restraint. If we need social restraint, sometimes the law can help achieve it.

Allocating opportunities for authenticity equitably demands that we sometimes constrain the use of social pressure.36I explored these questions in several prior articles. See Scott Altman, Are Boycotts, Shunning, and Shaming Corrupt?, 41 Oxford J. Leg. Stud. 987, 987–89 (2021) [hereinafter Boycotts]; Scott Altman, Discrimination, Non-Complicity, and Reasons That Mask Disdain, 136 Ethics 6 (2025) [hereinafter Discrimination]. Social pressure is usually wrong when used intentionally to change other people’s behavior in ways that undermine their integrity. As I will explain in Part II, it often threatens to corrupt targets or impose social punishments on people who are not culpable. Even when used for legitimate purposes, such as just punishment, the risk of expansion to illicit goals requires caution about using social pressure intentionally to alter integrity-connected behavior.

Sometimes, we inadvertently impose social pressure while pursuing other aims in ways that risk undermining other people’s integrity. Such unintended pressure is sometimes appropriate, as it is in the dating example. However, risking other people’s integrity is sometimes unjustified because our aims are illicit or can be achieved in less harmful ways. A fair opportunity to live with integrity will not favor employers pursuing illicit aims or goals that can be achieved without undermining integrity.

C. Two Public Harms: Affective Polarization and Censorship

In addition to undermining employee integrity, ideological employment denial contributes to two public harms: affective polarization and censorship.

Affective polarization (our tendency to demonize those who disagree with us) is a growing problem. We increasingly distrust those with different views, attribute bad motives to them, avoid interacting with them, live in separate places, and get information from different sources.37The cause of increasing ideological residential segregation is disputed. See, e.g., Gregory J. Martin & Steven W. Webster, Does Residential Sorting Explain Geographic Polarization?, 8 Pol. Sci. Rsch. & Methods 215, 230 (2020); W. Ben McCartney, John Orellana & Calvin Zhang, “Sort Selling”: Political Polarization and Residential Choice 1–7 (Fed. Rsrv. Bank of Philadelphia, Working Paper No. 21-14, 2021), https://doi.org/10.21799/frbp.wp.2021.14 [https://perma.cc/U654-WE9N]. This problem fuels the demand for employment exclusion. As we increasingly dislike and distrust those with different views, we avoid connections with them, including workplace connections. In turn, employment denial might exacerbate polarization by increasing ideological segregation and distrust through non-exposure.38For a discussion of affective polarization, see Shanto Iyengar, Yphtach Lelkes, Matthew Levendusky, Neil Malhotra & Sean J. Westwood, The Origins and Consequences of Affective Polarization in the United States, 22 Ann. Rev. Pol. Sci. 129, 130 (2019). In this way, polarization and employment denial might form a vicious cycle.

Banning ideological employment denial might encourage politically integrated workplaces and support a willingness to work together despite political differences. We should not normalize the unwillingness to associate with or cooperate with people whose views we disdain. Instead, we need opportunities to build trust in depoliticized environments. An appropriately supportive workplace is a good candidate.

This argument for workplace integration mirrors Cynthia Estlund’s claim about race discrimination. She argued that laws against employment discrimination can foster more public cooperation and social trust outside the workplace.39Cynthia Estlund, Working Together: How Workplace Bonds Strengthen a Diverse Democracy 24–25 (2003); Cynthia Estlund, Coming Apart: How Union Decline and Workplace Disintegration Imperil Democracy, in The Cambridge Handbook of Labor and Democracy 163 (2022). We ban race discrimination primarily because it wrongs victims, but a side benefit might be that doing so facilitates cooperation across racial lines. The same might be true for ideological workplace integration. We should ban ideological exclusion because it undermines employee integrity for insufficient reasons. An added benefit to banning ideological exclusion might be that it reduces polarization. Some evidence suggests that workplace exposure to people with different political views fosters political tolerance.40Diana C. Mutz & Jeffery J. Mondak, The Workplace as a Context for Cross-Cutting Political Discourse, 68 J. Politics 140, 143 (2006); David A. Jones, The Polarizing Effect of a Partisan Workplace, 46 Pol. Sci. & Pol. 67, 67 (2013). As with race discrimination, ideological integration may require legal rules to prevent exclusion.

The benefits of ideological integration do not depend on workplaces fostering political discussion or expression. Indeed, a depoliticized workplace, where such discussions are discouraged, may facilitate trust-building across ideological lines, allowing people to view their political opponents as whole individuals.41For an argument that non-political activities help rebuild trust, see Robert B. Talisse, Overdoing Democracy: Why We Must Put Politics in Its Place 156–57 (2019). Of course, depoliticization is not appropriate for all workplaces.42Some workplaces, such as advocacy groups, cannot be depoliticized because their jobs involve political aims. As noted below, they should likely be able to discriminate based on ideology. Other workplaces can be politically neutral but cannot achieve this goal by banning political discussions. Universities are one example. But for many employers, it is feasible. The argument does not depend on businesses seeking or benefiting from ideological diversity if providing diversity does not impose significant internal burdens (discussed in Part IV). Like Estlund’s, my argument offers a reason to ban exclusionary policies. The resulting workplace diversity might lead to more cooperation.

In addition to exacerbating polarization, ideological employment exclusion might undermine the public benefits of free speech. Although the actions of a few employers who fire or refuse to hire employees for their controversial speech would not affect public discourse, many employers might (in concert or merely in parallel) exclude employees with unpopular views. They might do so intentionally or based on algorithms that screen applicants’ social media. When paired with organized groups and politicians pressing employers to boycott employees with unpopular views, these exclusions could chill expression. Chilling is unnecessary because (as I argue below) most employers’ goals are either illicit or can be achieved without resorting to employment denial or speech suppression.

This speech-chilling concern may seem alarmist. After all, most employers seem to care little about employee speech outside the workplace. If, on occasion, a few law firms refuse to hire protesting students or an opera company fires a singer, those individuals might suffer an unjust penalty. However, few people will change their behavior to avoid an exceedingly unlikely job denial.

Perhaps the worry is alarmist. However, culture wars and cancel culture appear to be intensifying, as is the use of algorithms to screen job applicants, including their social media activity.43Yeqing Kong & Huiling Ding, Tools, Potential, and Pitfalls of Social Media Screening: Social Profiling in the Era of AI-Assisted Recruiting, 38 J. Bus. & Tech. Commc’n 33, 34 (2024). A rational person concerned about job access might err on the side of caution, avoiding any controversial statement, even if there is no current movement to deny jobs based on a specific controversy.44Job search professionals advise people to avoid controversial statements online and sometimes suggest that job seekers align their public positions with those in the mission statements of companies to which they plan to apply. See, e.g., Susan Helmick, Social Media Do’s & Don’ts for Professional Success, Univ. Cin., https://grad.uc.edu/student-life/news/social-media-dos-donts-for-professional-success.html#main [https://perma.cc/2YVH-JTSV].

D. Summing Up

The argument in Part I outlined three harms caused by ideological employment exclusion: it threatens integrity, exacerbates polarization, and chills speech. However, these harms are not necessarily things we should ask employers to prevent. As I noted earlier, we need reasons to ask employers to help preserve free speech and employee integrity rather than impose on employees the responsibility to resist the temptations of silence.45The idea that employers should have to assist employees in living authentically might seem bizarre considering the ways employment is often experienced as undermining authenticity. For many people, work feels inauthentic. We cannot be ourselves in the workplace and perhaps feel no connection (or even a deep conflict) between our values and work. However, these features increase the urgency of living with integrity when we leave the workplace and offer an additional reason for employers—who already impede integrity—not to further erode opportunities for living authentically once we leave work.

Part II will outline why employers should be responsible for some of these harms. Employers often use social pressure for illicit purposes. They also impose social pressure for legitimate purposes that could be pursued in less harmful ways. Before elaborating on these ideas, I want to recall traditional worries about employer power and anti-subordination. I mentioned that power-based accounts did not fully capture the wrong of employment exclusion, which seems more problematic when it is controlling employee speech than other aspects of employees’ lives. As to anti-subordination, many excluded employees (including famous opera singers and law students who might be denied jobs at large law firms) are not necessarily members of subordinated groups.

Although I stand by this position—that employer power and anti-subordination concerns do not fully account for the wrongfulness of ideological employment exclusion—these concerns do explain why employers’ wrongful use of social pressure is especially problematic. The harm that employers inflict on integrity, polarization, and free speech would not be possible if employers did not exercise power over their employees. The need for employment as a source of basic sustenance is why employer exclusion creates intense social pressure, and this is one reason why asking employees to resist it is problematic.46Employment is not the only context in which social pressure becomes intense because of power relationships and intense need. Social shunning, particularly in small religious communities, exerts strong pressure because members (and former members) of those communities depend on longstanding relationships for social and economic connections. Additionally, although some employees who are excluded based on ideology are not among the most vulnerable in society, employer power often silences vulnerable people and threatens to suppress speech supporting subordinated groups.47Although employer power is often used to suppress speech supporting subordinated groups, this pattern is hardly universal or uncontroversial. Denying a job to a member of the British National Party (“BNP”) might be seen as standing up for the groups the BNP regularly attacked. As well, in many circumstances there are claims to represent oppressed groups advanced by both sides, including disputes over Israel/Palestine and over abortion. Part II will emphasize other reasons for thinking that employer exclusion results in unjust distributions of opportunities for authenticity. However, the source of employer social power and its frequent use to undermine integrity for those with little power and suppress speech advancing their rights further justify restricting employer freedom rather than imposing duties on employees to resist pressure on their integrity.

The following sections elaborate on my core claims—that employers’ interests do not justify harms to integrity, speech, and polarization because employers either aim at illicit ends or can pursue legitimate goals in less harmful ways. Part II addresses intentional efforts to change employee behavior. Part III examines employer integrity interests in non-complicity, non-association, and speech. Part IV considers employer economic interests.

II. Intending to Change Behavior through Social Pressure

Ideological boycotts sometimes aim to corrupt their targets or punish people who do not deserve punishment. To the extent that employers aim for these outcomes, we have reason to limit their power to do so, both to fairly allocate opportunities for integrity and to combat the public harms of censorship and polarization. Even if employers intend to change integrity-related behavior for legitimate reasons, such as deserved punishment, we should often restrict such efforts, because they cannot easily be confined to legitimate cases, and we have reason to fear that they will be weaponized as tools in culture wars.

A. Corrupting Aims

Organized commercial shunning is typically called a boycott.48See Linda Radzik, Boycotts and the Social Enforcement of Justice, 34 Soc. Phil. & Pol. 102, 108 (2017) (“Shunning, which also involves the collective avoidance of a perceived wrongdoer, is most similar to boycotting. However, traditional shunning practices cut off a broader swath of interactions than boycotting does.”). Some boycotts intentionally pressure targets to change, hide, or act against their values by offering financial or other incentives. These boycotts are corrupting (they aim to corrupt their targets) because they seek to induce others to act for morally inappropriate reasons.49Altman, Boycotts, supra note 36, at 998–99. Suppose a business donates profits to charities that I think are immoral. If I organize a boycott to induce the owners to stop supporting these causes, I am treating them disrespectfully. I try to entice them to abandon or hide their moral views or to refrain from acting on them. I do not hope to persuade them that their views are wrong. Instead, I aim to pressure them into hypocrisy by offering a bribe to compromise their morality. I would reject money as a legitimate reason to change or hide my moral views. So, I should not aim to entice others to abandon their values for profit.50In a prior article, I addressed when such disrespectful boycotts are justifiable, particularly when they are used by oppressed people who have no adequate alternatives, including boycotts aimed at securing civil rights. Id. at 1006, 1008–09. I argued there that we should limit the use of such boycotts to circumstances in which the speakers faced oppression marked by violence and the systematic denial of rights and were denied alternative avenues for redress. Id.

Of course, rejecting commercial ties with someone can occur outside an organized boycott and need not aim to change anyone’s behavior. Below, I address several examples, including actions based on non-association or non-complicity. Moreover, boycotts aimed at changing behavior are not always corrupting. Some boycotts target businesses to change their profit-maximizing choices, such as an anti-sweatshop boycott encouraging a manufacturer to provide better working conditions. The boycott intentionally pressures the business to change its behavior. However, the boycott does not corrupt its decision because the choice (to exploit or endanger workers) aims at profitability. Corruption arises when social or financial pressure entices someone to change their behavior for reasons the target considers morally irrelevant.51The law rarely interferes with consumer boycotts. This reflects a broader puzzle about why we permit consumers to engage in behavior we would not tolerate from sellers. For example, sellers of goods and services cannot deny people access based on race. But we allow racially targeted consumer boycotts. See Katharine T. Bartlett & Mitu Gulati, Discrimination by Customers, 102 Iowa L. Rev. 223, 224–26 (2016); Richard H. McAdams, The Need for a General Theory of Discrimination: A Comment on Katharine T. Bartlett & Mitu Gulati, Discrimination by Customers, 102 Iowa L. Rev. Online 335, 338–40 (2017); Larry Alexander, What Is Freedom of Association, and What Is Its Denial?, Soc. Phil. & Pol’y, July 2008, at 1, 12. In the anti-sweatshop boycott example, there is no corruption, because the employer was already committed to making decisions based on profitability, and the boycotters tried to make exploitation less profitable.52One might think that causing a capitalist owner to protect workers in ways that they think are morally unnecessary undermines the owner’s capitalist commitments. I address this objection in Altman, Boycotts, supra note 36, at 993.

Another example of non-corrupting pressure intended to change behavior is shunning or shaming people for actions that are unrelated to integrity. If I shame you for failing to contribute to a group project you agreed to join, hoping to spur increased contribution, the pressure to contribute is not corrupting, assuming your non-contribution was due to mere laziness rather than a principled opposition to contributing. Such social pressure does not undermine your effort to live according to your values by tempting you to embrace irrelevant reasons. Your laziness likely does not reflect the values you embrace.

The employment boycott against pro-Palestinian student activists seems to have been aimed at corrupting them. The professor who urged law firms not to hire anti-Zionist students supported the boycott by saying, “When students face consequences for their actions, they straighten up.”53Solomon, supra note 1. He regarded the students’ views and associational choices as hateful. So, he aimed to deter them from expressing those views or continuing their associational choices by creating financial consequences. Admittedly, the professor offered other reasons for the boycott, including a concern that law firms or their clients might not want to affiliate with allegedly antisemitic students—associational and economic concerns rather than a corrupting incentive.54See id. (“If a student endorses hatred, it isn’t only your right but your duty not to hire [them]. Do you want your clients represented by someone who condones these monstrous crimes?”). However, the “facing consequences” and “shaping up” language suggest that creating a corrupting incentive was a central aim of his boycott plan.

B. Punitive Aims

Social pressure that is intended to influence behavior is not corrupting if it seeks to deter and punish wrongdoing.55For an explanation of why punishment is not corrupt, see Altman, Boycotts, supra note 36, at 996–97. Social punishments supplement state regulation and enforcement as a means of preventing harm.56For a review of the reasons for social punishment, see Colleen Murphy & Lesley Wexler, Non-State Punishment, 2024 U. Ill. L. Rev. 819, 846–52 (2024). For example, much of the #MeToo movement’s success relied on boycotts, shaming, and shunning to punish and deter sexual harassment.57Some scholars question whether punitive approaches to sexual harassment are ideal in all settings. See, e.g., Michal Alberstein & Shira Rosenberg-Lavi, In the Shadow of the Law: Applying Therapeutic Approaches to Sexual Harassment Conflicts in the Context of #MeToo, 24 Pepp. Disp. Resol. L.J. 227, 228–29 (2024). On the value of social punishment for sexual harassment, see Scott Altman, Selling Silence: The Morality of Sexual Harassment NDAs, 39 J. App. Phil. 698, 708 (2022). That movement reminds us that some speakers deserve punishment for culpable expression: their speech causes harm and contributes little to debate. Workplace harassment laws appropriately restrict harassing speech that undermines workplace equality.58For an argument that workplace harassment laws violate free speech principles in certain circumstances, see Eugene Volokh, Comment, Freedom of Speech and Workplace Harassment, 39 UCLA L. Rev. 1791, 1815 (1992).

Perhaps a comparable idea applies to hate speech and employment exclusion. Although courts in the U.S. have not upheld hate speech laws, there are plausible moral arguments for punishing hate speech, which harms people, undermines equality and respect, and (if narrowly defined) contributes little to debate or knowledge.59Jeremy Waldron, The Harm in Hate Speech 4–6 (2012); Jonathan Quong, Liberalism Without Perfection 310–11 (2011). We might consider embracing hate speech curtailment by non-governmental forces, because social pressure can help combat the harm of hateful ideas by punishing those who express them.60For an account of non-criminal mechanisms of deterring hate speech in the U.S., see Arthur Jacobson & Bernhard Schlink, Hate Speech and Self-Restraint, in The Content and Context of Hate Speech: Rethinking Regulation and Responses 217, 218–37 (2012). Job denial might deter and punish hate speech, much like shaming and shunning deter and punish sexual harassment.61One might question whether job denial counts as punishment. On some accounts, not all harms (no matter why they are imposed) count as punishments. Punishments must deprive someone of a right. See, e.g., Deirdre Golash, The Case Against Punishment: Retribution, Crime Prevention, and the Law 2 (2005). However, most theories of punishment do not include this requirement. Suffering that is intentionally imposed in response to wrongdoing counts as punishment even if one had no right to avoid that suffering. For a review, see Frej Klem Thomsen, The Definition of Punishment, in The Oxford Handbook of the Philosophy of Punishment 13, 15–22 (2024). The dividing line between punitive social harms and non-punitive social harms has been subject to debate. See, e.g., Linda Radzik, Christopher Bennett, Glen Pettigrove & George Sher, The Ethics of Social Punishment: The Enforcement of Morality in Everyday Life 24–47 (2020).

Although social punishment for hate speech has some appeal, we should approach it cautiously. Even when free speech and enforced orthodoxy are not at stake, social punishment is problematic; it circumvents due process and other legal protections, such as the requirement of proof beyond a reasonable doubt, the right to cross-examine witnesses, the right to appeal, and rules against disproportionate punishment. Punishing speech adds new dangers to these general worries.

The appeal and the dangers of this approach are illustrated by punishing pro-Palestinian protesters. The appeal lies in trying to combat antisemitism, a problem I do not mean to minimize. Many Jews viewed recent campus pro-Palestinian protests with concern, connecting them with antisemitism and antisemitic violence. They viewed refusals to condemn Hamas and chants of “from the river to the sea” as barely coded calls for violence against Jews.62Andrew Lapin, Many Jewish Students Say Pro-Palestinian Encampments Make Them Feel Less Safe, Hillel Survey Finds, Jewish Telegraphic Agency (May 13, 2024, 5:12 PM), https://www.jta.org/2024/05/13/united-states/many-jewish-students-say-pro-palestinian-encampments-make-them-feel-less-safe-hillel-survey-finds [https://perma.cc/PXE4-PS6A]. When paired with rising antisemitic violence,63Johnny Diaz, Antisemitic Incidents Reach New High in the U.S., Report Finds, N.Y. Times (Oct. 6, 2024, 3:54 PM), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/10/06/us/antisemitic-incidents-us-adl-report.html [https://archive.ph/YS6RO]. including violence and harassment during some protests64There are disputes about how much violence occurred during campus protests. See Lois Beckett, Nearly all Gaza Campus Protests in the US Have Been Peaceful, Study Finds, The Guardian (May 10, 2024, 7:00 AM), https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/article/2024/may/10/peaceful-pro-palestinian-campus-protests [https://perma.cc/S93E-JR6R]. Harassment of Jewish students appears to have been more widespread. See Carolyn Thompson, Jewish Students at Columbia Faced Hostile Environment During Pro-Palestinian Protests, Report Finds, Associated Press (Aug. 30, 2024, 10:54 PM), https://apnews.com/article/campus-protests-israel-palestine-columbia-f2984f21aa38a4f637982af7b98fed5e [https://archive.ph/J2BBM]. and claims of discriminatory behavior by universities,65Aaron Katersky & Julia Reinstein, Harvard ‘Failed Its Jewish Students’ and Must Face Antisemitism Lawsuit, Judge Rules, ABC News (Aug. 7, 2024, 9:24 AM), https://abcnews.go.com/US/harvard-failed-jewish-students-face-antisemitism-lawsuit-judge/story?id=112642274 [https://perma.cc/JG8D-9QX5]. they saw the need to condemn and punish antisemitic rhetoric and advocacy.

The dangers of punishing speech are equally evident in protester boycotts. One danger is punishing people for non-culpable speech—speech that includes political ideas or does not embrace racial and religious hate. Boycotters cite several objectionable actions by campus activists. Student organizations would not invite speakers who supported Israel’s right to exist,66What Do Anti-Israel Student Organizers Really Want? Examining the Extreme Demands Behind the Campus Protests, ADL (May 15, 2024), https://www.adl.org/resources/article/what-do-anti-israel-student-organizers-really-want-examining-extreme-demands [https://perma.cc/T4PR-PLYD]. and protestors refused to condemn Hamas67See, e.g., President Saller and Provost Martinez on the Middle East Conflict, Stanford Rep. (Oct. 9, 2023), https://news.stanford.edu/stories/2023/10/president-saller-provost-martinez-middle-east-conflict [https://perma.cc/J64U-5QWZ]. and used slogans such as “from the river to the sea,” which boycotters interpret as a call for the violent removal of all Jews from Israel.

Of course, some protesters deserve punishment. They engaged in culpable behavior, including violence,68See, e.g., Celina Tabor, Zoe Sottile & Matt Egan, Columbia University Faces Full-Blown Crisis as Rabbi Calls for Jewish Students to ‘Return Home’, CNN (Apr. 22, 2024, 11:59 AM), https://www.cnn.com/2024/04/21/us/columbia-university-jewish-students-protests/index.html [https://archive.ph/XTZMm]. threats of violence, targeted harassment,69See, e.g., Jack Stripling, Colleges Braced for Antisemitism and Violence. It’s Happening., Wash. Post (Oct. 31, 2023), https://www.washingtonpost.com/education/2023/10/31/antisemitism-college-campuses-jewish-hamas-gaza [https://archive.ph/6IPnh]. the use of racial and religious epithets and stereotypes,70Nicquel Terry Ellis, Antisemitic Incidents, Partly Fueled by Campus Protests, Reached Record-Breaking High in 2024, According to the ADL, CNN (Apr. 22, 2025, 2:22 PM), https://www.cnn.com/2025/04/22/us/antisemitic-cases-2024-campus-protests [https://archive.ph/QpTPU]. and statements that Jews deserve to die.71Stripling, supra note 69. However, the proposed boycott did not target only protesters who were credibly charged with such wrongdoing.72I do not include mere trespass on the list of culpable behavior. Apart from job denial being an incommensurate punishment for this small infraction, most employers would not deny jobs to people who trespassed in other contexts, which suggests that punishment for trespass is a pretext for punishing speech. Nor was the violence and harassment committed by some protesters so widespread that we can presume all protesters participated.

I believe most student protestors do not deserve punishment. The speech and associational acts targeted by boycotters differed from harassment, epithets, stereotypes, and calls for violence.73For a discussion of hate speech as dehumanizing rather than merely offensive, see Andrew Altman, Liberalism and Campus Hate Speech: A Philosophical Examination, 103 Ethics 302, 309–12 (1993). Their purposes and intended meanings were ambiguous, and some reasonable interpretations of their speech included appropriately protected political ideas.74Those chanting “from the river to the sea” meant varied things, ranging from a demand for peace, reparations, or Palestinian land return; to more radical demands that Israel abandon its status as an officially Jewish state; to even more radical demands that all Jews leave Israel, perhaps by force. Similarly, the student groups who refused to invite Zionist speakers might have meant to exclude anyone who favored allowing Jews to remain in the land between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean. But they might have meant something less sinister, such as refusing to invite speakers who think Israel should exist as a religious-nationalist state. Irina Raicu, Purposeful Protest: From The Sea to The River, There Are People Who Need More Than Slogans, Santa Clara Markkula Ctr. Applied Ethics (June 25, 2024), https://www.scu.edu/ethics-spotlight/ethics-and-the-israeli-palestinian-conflict-here-and-in-the-middle-east/purposeful-protest-from-the-sea-to-the-river-there-are-people-who-need-more-than-slogans [https://perma.cc/74FT-PJP6]. This ambiguity and political content argue against culpability.75For an elaboration on reasons to presume less offensive interpretations of ambiguous political speech, see A Campus Guide to Identifying Antisemitism in a Time of Perplexity, Nexus Project, https://nexusproject.us/nexus-resources/campus-guide-to-identifying-antisemitism-in-a-time-of-perplexity [https://perma.cc/UBC3-5BYL]; David N. Myers & Nomi M. Stolzenberg, Can Legitimate Campus Protest Be Distinguished from Antisemitism? This Guide Aims to Help, L.A. Times (Sept. 16, 2024, 3:00 AM), https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2024-09-16/israel-gaza-hamas-protest-antisemitism-ucla-usc-college [https://perma.cc/Y4R6-H3CS]. Although political speakers sometimes use ambiguous statements to dog-whistle intentionally hateful ideas, it seems unlikely that most student protestors had that intent.

Beyond ambiguity and political content, we should protect statements made during protests that would be unacceptable in other contexts. Discourteous and violent-sounding speech has a traditional home in political protests and social movements.76Courts often recognize that political hyperbole differs from genuine threats. See, e.g., Watts v. United States, 394 U.S. 705, 706 (1969) (holding that the statement “[i]f they ever make me carry a rifle the first man I want to get in my sights is L.B.J.” is not a threat at a draft protest). Provocative slogans draw attention to causes and build enthusiasm; they are rarely literal statements of belief or intent. South African anti-Apartheid protestors sometimes rallied around “one settler, one bullet.”77This phrase has sometimes been deemed hate speech. See South African Human Rights Commission, SAHRC Takes PAC to Court for Using ‘One Settler, One Bullet’ Phrase During March (Nov. 25, 2020), https://www.sahrc.org.za/index.php/sahrc-media/news/item/2527-sahrc-takes-pac-to-court-for-using-one-settler-one-bullet-phrase-during-march [https://perma.cc/9ANT-LYU3]. For a contrary view, see Thand’Olwethu Dlanga, “One Settler One Bullet” is NOT Hate Speech!, Hood Communist (Feb. 4, 2021), https://hoodcommunist.org/2021/01/14/one-settler-one-bullet-is-not-hate-speech [https://perma.cc/B7JA-RUZK]. There is a similar controversy over the “land or death” slogan. See SABC Radio, ‘Land or Death’ Slogan is Hate Speech: Court, SABC News (May 6, 2019, 12:13 PM), https://www.sabcnews.com/sabcnews/land-or-death-blf-slogan-constitutes-hate-speech-court [https://perma.cc/CF9K-VJUY]. Anti-police protesters in the U.S. invoked “No justice, no peace” or “All cops are bastards.” The gun rights movement repeated, “I’ll give you my gun when you take it from my cold, dead hands.”78See Robert Berkvist, Charlton Heston, Epic Film Star and Voice of N.R.A., Dies at 84, N.Y. Times (Apr. 6, 2008), http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/06/movies/06heston.html?_r=0 [https://archive.ph/FYDjc]. Malcolm X urged “justice by any means necessary.”79Malcolm X, Remarks at the Founding Rally of the Organization of Afro-American Unity in New York (June 28, 1964). Such slogans vary in whether they can be interpreted as non-violent or risk inciting actual violence. But they are commonly used to protest injustices.

Some people are unpersuaded by the claim that most pro-Palestinian student protesters were blameless.80Some organizations declare the phrase “from the river to the sea” to be antisemitic regardless of intent, because it is understood as calling for violence against Jews or denial of Jewish self-determination. See Slogan: “From the River to the Sea Palestine Will be Free,” ADL (Oct. 26, 2023), https://www.adl.org/resources/backgrounder/slogan-river-sea-palestine-will-be-free [https://perma.cc/474C-3C6M]. Although I do not share this view, even if it is correct, social punishment for the protestors’ speech is problematic. One narrow reason is that punitive attitudes toward students (especially by their teachers) are inappropriate when the students’ misbehavior stems from an insufficient understanding of complex situations. Education is a more effective and morally appropriate response to uninformed young people and the radical viewpoints they often embrace. The argument is not that these students are too young to be responsible for their actions but that wrongs born of ignorance deserve different responses from wrongs born of greed, malice, and indifference to human suffering.81On the counterproductive effects of punishing hate speech, see Michael Conklin, Anti-Semitism and the Overlooked Benefits of Allowing “Hate Speech”, 11 Ind. J.L. & Soc. Equal. 197, 199–202 (2023).

Of course, specific considerations about student speech and protest slogans do not cover all employee speech. This leads to a broader set of reasons against punishing hate speech. We often slide quickly down the slope from punishing low-content hate speech to punishing speech that offends us, advocates outcomes we think deplorable, or suggests that the speaker harbors hateful beliefs. If we leave the decision about which ideas are hateful to the private sector, we may find that the category spirals to include many political ideas that people think are morally mistaken. Perhaps critics of pro-Palestinian protests are correct that protesters’ beliefs and statements are antisemitic, harmful, and based on hatred or bias. But these beliefs and statements also represent political views; they are not mere epithets. If we declare that harmful and biased expressions are culpable even though they communicate political views, we open ourselves to declaring other views culpable. Some people regard Black Lives Matter as supporting racist views,82See Max Cohen, Trump: Black Lives Matter is a ‘Symbol of Hate’, Politico (July 1, 2020, 1:56 PM), https://www.politico.com/news/2020/07/01/trump-black-lives-matter-347051 [https://archive.ph/k39jU]; Naomi Lim, Rudy Giuliani: Black Lives Matter ‘Inherently Racist’, CNN (last updated July 11, 2016, 3:48 PM), https://www.cnn.com/2016/07/11/politics/rudy-giuliani-black-lives-matter-inherently-racist [https://perma.cc/SUG6-DR4U]. and many other people view opposition to affirmative action and Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (“DEI”) as racist.83See Ibram X. Kendi, There Is No Middle Ground on Reparations, The Atlantic (June 19, 2019), https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2019/06/ibram-x-kendi-opposing-reparations-racist/592060 [https://archive.ph/RCPQ9]. That they can be described this way should not lead us to punish their expression or to let the state decide which political views are hateful enough to deserve social punishment.

Punishing those whose views we find distasteful is unjust. Such punishments are also harmful, as they threaten to censor dissenting views. This worry is hardly speculative. Social and legal pressure in the U.S. and Israel has led many advocates for Palestinian rights to fear that they cannot speak freely.84Vimal Patel & Anna Betts, Campus Crackdowns Have Chilling Effect on Pro-Palestinian Speech, N.Y. Times (Dec. 17, 2023, 9:52 AM), https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/17/us/campus-crackdowns-have-chilling-effect-on-pro-palestinian-speech.html [https://archive.ph/IczoC]; Emma Graham-Harrison & Quique Kierszenbaum, ‘Political Arrest’ of Palestinian Academic in Israel Marks New Civil Liberties Threat, The Guardian (Apr. 26, 2024, 9:42 AM), https://www.theguardian.com/world/2024/apr/26/political-arrest-palestinian-academic-nadera-shalhoub-kevorkian-israel-civil-liberties-threat [https://perma.cc/8YKZ-8ESL]; Sam McNeil, Israel Cracks Down on Palestinian Citizens Who Speak Out Against the War in Gaza, Associated Press (Nov. 24, 2024, 9:15 PM), https://apnews.com/article/israel-gaza-war-palestinians-dissent-protest-849cc9250534b5bae98cea89e6f4d35e [https://archive.ph/FJcBt]. The Trump administration’s recent visa revocations, deportations, and attacks on universities confirm that their fears are well-founded.

The worry about expansion extends from punishing speech to punishing silence. One reason for boycotting the campus protesters was their refusal to condemn Hamas. Similarly, Hollywood professionals were fired for refusing to sign loyalty oaths,85Jeff Kisseloff, TELEVISION/RADIO; Another Award, Other Memories Of McCarthyism, N.Y. Times (May 30, 1999), https://www.nytimes.com/1999/05/30/arts/television-radio-another-award-other-memories-of-mccarthyism.html [https://archive.ph/Zz1bL]. and the Metropolitan Opera fired Anna Netrebko for refusing to denounce Putin. It appears that corrupting Netrebko’s choices and punishing her were among the opera’s aims.86However, the opera may have had reasons other than punishment for firing Netrebko. Perhaps the opera had complicity concerns or was concerned that it would lose some audience members if she continued to perform. Its comments were ambiguous. Francisco Salazar, Metropolitan Opera Fires Yusif Eyvazov, OperaWire (Mar. 17, 2023), https://operawire.com/metropolitan-opera-fires-yusif-eyvazov/#google_vignette [https://perma.cc/2RZG-7T9P]. Given the understandable tendency to support one’s home country, reasonable fears of retaliation for denouncing a sitting leader, and the harms of coerced speech, we should not punish a refusal to condemn people or swear allegiance.

One might hope that legally regulating social punishment could prevent its excessive use to punish valuable speech and dissenting views. Laws could permit ideological employment discrimination only against those who engage in hate speech, narrowly defined. However, this approach seems likely to fail. Lawmakers often aim to suppress dissenting views by calling them hate speech, as one can see from recent hearings in the U.S. Congress.87Jacey Fortin, Campus Protests: Republicans Accuse University Leaders of ‘Giving In’ to Antisemitism, N.Y. Times (May 23, 2025), https://www.nytimes.com/live/2024/05/23/us/college-antisemitism-hearing [https://archive.ph/BwT4M]. Courts do not always constrain such impulses. California’s protection against firing employees for political speech did not protect employees from being fired for having uncertain national loyalty during the McCarthy era. The court found that protection for political speech meant protection for speech about the peaceful and orderly conduct of government, which does not cover an employee “who advocate[s] the overthrow of the government by force or violence, or whose loyalty to the United States has not been established to the satisfaction of the employer.” Lockheed Aircraft Corp. v. Sup. Ct. of L.A. Cnty., 28 Cal. 2d 481, 484 (Cal. 1946). European efforts to restrict ideological employment exclusion but leave hate speech unprotected have been problematic.88They limit protections to beliefs concerning “a weighty and substantial aspect of human life and behaviour” that “attain a certain level of cogency, seriousness, cohesion and importance.” Grainger PLC v. Nicholson [2009] UKEAT 0219_09_0311, [2010] ICR 360 ¶ 24. They exempt employee speech conveying ideas “incompatible with human dignity and not [in] conflict with the fundamental rights of others.” Id. Some people think that hate speech laws in Europe have been applied in ways that produce self-censorship.89See, e.g., Jacob Mchangama, The Problem with Hate Speech Laws, 13 Rev. Faith & Int’l Affs. 75, 81 (2015); Jacob Mchangama & Natalie Alkiviadou, Hate Speech and the European Court of Human Rights: Whatever Happened to the Right to Offend, Shock or Disturb?, 21 Hum. Rts. L. Rev. 1008, 1018 (2021). In the employment context, several workers were fired for declaring that only two sexes exist, and trial courts approved their dismissals.90See Cowan & Morris, supra note 7, at 7. Although these trial decisions were later overturned, the disputes show how easily categories can expand.

Even if we could trust lawmakers and courts to confine ideological discrimination to narrow examples of hate speech, this approach likely could not be implemented in the U.S. due to constitutional concerns about vagueness and content-based speech restrictions.91The European approach would likely be unconstitutional in the U.S. The scope description might be declared too vague and the exemption might be struck down as a vague and content-based speech restriction. See Volokh, Should the Law Limit, supra note 23, at 297. One can imagine arguments for upholding these laws based on the claim that they are not speech but employment regulations. Courts have not struck down statutes forbidding employment exclusion based on political speech or union organizing, even though these rules protect speakers from employment consequences based on the subject matter of the speech. On the other hand, the European approach would be viewpoint-based, not merely subject-matter-based (as are the protections for political and union speech).

Injustice and censorship are not the only concerns about punishing speech. Social penalties may increasingly be used to persecute ideological enemies, exacerbating our polarization.92For an argument that free speech norms help us avoid imposing social punishment and aid social cohesion in a diverse society, see Lee C. Bollinger, The Tolerant Society: Freedom of Speech and Extremist Speech in America (1986). Moreover, weaponizing employment exclusion might backfire. Many current proponents of ideological boycotts could become targets of boycotts if political sentiments change. Currently, worldwide support for Israel is falling. If Zionism became sufficiently unpopular, we might see pressure on companies not to hire Zionists, an expanded version of BDS efforts. This outcome could mirror prior hiring bans that targeted Jews, including the purge of alleged communists in Hollywood.93See Harold Brackman, The Attack on “Jewish Hollywood”: A Chapter in the History of Modern American Anti-Semitism, 20 Mod. Judaism 1, 4 (2000). The danger of that outcome should worry those who would wield punitive job denial against anti-Zionists.

To summarize the argument, ideological employment denial often aims to corrupt targets by inducing them to change or conceal their principled commitments through financial inducements. It also punishes people who have not acted culpably. Even when used to punish and deter culpable behavior, the practice cannot easily be contained for practical and constitutional reasons. Of course, not all ideological employment denial aims to corrupt or punish. In the following two Parts, I consider other employer purposes.

III.  Inadvertent Social Pressure and Employer Integrity

Most ideological employment exclusion is unconnected to boycotts or punishment. It occurs at the firm level, is uncoordinated with other employers, and does not aim to change employees’ or prospective employees’ behavior. Instead, firms seeking to protect their interests inadvertently impose social pressure, risking, but not intending, harm to individuals and the public. In this Part, I consider employer efforts to protect their integrity by avoiding complicity and unwanted associations, as well as engaging in employer speech. I defer discussion of the employer’s economic goals to Part IV.

I will argue that exclusion based on non-complicity is usually unreasonable. Non-association and employer speech are legitimate aims. However, for most employers, non-association is not a pressing need, and employers can pursue their speech goals without undermining employee integrity. Employees’ integrity interests and the public’s interest in employee speech, as well as the public’s interest in avoiding polarization, counsel against ideological employment exclusion when employers can pursue their goals in other ways. In some instances, equity also favors employee interests because the burdens of employer exclusion fall on disadvantaged groups and suppress speech needed to defend the interests of subordinated groups.

A. Non-Complicity

Some employers might deny people jobs to avoid complicity. Complicity means materially or symbolically supporting or benefiting from someone else’s allegedly immoral acts. Avoiding complicity is part of living with integrity, much like expressing one’s views. Although people disagree on what constitutes undesirable complicity (and, of course, also disagree about what acts are immoral), living according to one’s values, including one’s views about complicity, is part of living with integrity.94For an argument supporting this claim, see Altman, Discrimination, supra note 36, at 6. Unlike the corrupting and punitive aims discussed above, avoiding complicity does not aim to disrupt other people’s efforts to live authentically (as a goal or an intended means of pursuing a goal).

Non-complicity is not a typical reason for ideological employment denial. Few employers believe they become complicit by hiring someone whose views or acts they regard as immoral. Because commerce connects everyone with people who spend money on things they think are illicit, most people embrace a constrained interpretation of complicity.95See Nomi Maya Stolzenberg, It’s About Money: The Fundamental Contradiction of Hobby Lobby, 88 S. Cal. L. Rev. 727, 749–55 (2015).

However, employers who believe that paying employees makes them complicit in employees’ speech and actions present a conflict between two integrity interests. If we protect the employer, a potential employee must remain silent or risk unemployment. If we do not, an employer must become complicit or cease employing people. The decision about who to protect depends on which person should accept the setback to protect the other’s integrity. This demands an equitable allocation of opportunities for living authentically.

How should we evaluate this conflict? We might ask who is morally right. Does the employer have a correct view of complicity? Are the employee’s actions immoral? However, the value of living with integrity (for both employer and employee) persists even for people with mistaken views about morality or complicity. Moreover, when we move from discussing moral to legal questions, it seems unlikely that a liberal state should base employment rules on the truth of employees’ or employers’ controversial moral views, or that we should trust the state to make such decisions.96Discrimination law in England and much of Europe has adopted a related view. Employment discrimination based on philosophical beliefs is generally forbidden. However, protected beliefs must “be worthy of respect in a democratic society, be not incompatible with human dignity and not conflict with the fundamental rights of others.” Grainger PLC v. Nicholson [2009] UKEAT_0219_09_0311, [2010] ICR 360 ¶ 24 .

We might be tempted to reject the employer’s view of complicity as unreasonably expansive. Many people think it is implausible that an employer becomes complicit in an employee’s actions merely by employing them, particularly if employment does not advance the employee’s goals beyond providing a salary. However, this view of complicity is no more expansive than the views commonly embraced by consumers who participate in boycotts, such as those who refused to buy sandwiches from Chick-fil-A because its owner donated to charities opposing same-sex marriage.97Kim Severson, Chick-fil-A Thrust Back into Spotlight on Gay Rights, N.Y. Times (July 25, 2012), https://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/26/us/gay-rights-uproar-over-chick-fil-a-widens.html [https://archive.ph/WZf4B].

In a recent article on vendor discrimination, I argued for an approach based on reason-giving. Religious vendors sometimes claim that selling wedding-related goods to same-sex couples makes them complicit in actions the vendors regard as immoral. This creates a dilemma: If the law permits them to discriminate, same-sex couples are denied equal status in commerce. Conversely, if the law disallows discrimination, vendors become complicit or must change their businesses.

Justifications for rules should be acceptable to the people they disadvantage. The vendor offers a justification based on a seemingly reasonable aim—avoiding complicity—that any person should consider valuable and be willing to facilitate. However, this neutral description masks its underlying disdain. The same-sex couple must suffer discrimination because the vendor views actions central to their identity as immoral. Accepting this reason requires customers to treat the vendor’s desire to avoid their supposed sin as reasonable. No one should have to accept as reasonable the perspective that they are sinful, because doing so undermines their dignity. In contrast, when the same-sex couple seeks service from the vendor, they are not trying to express or enact any disdain for the vendor’s religion. I concluded that, in most cases, we should regard the vendor’s effort to live authentically by discriminating as unreasonable, because its justification asks victims to accept others’ disdain for them as a reason for rules that disadvantage them. This is especially unreasonable when vendors have other means of maintaining integrity, such as finding other jobs.98Altman, Discrimination, supra note 36, at 17–18.

To be clear, my argument did not rely on condemning the vendor’s beliefs as homophobic or immoral. It would be equally disrespectful for a feminist baker not to provide a cake for a fundamentalist wedding because she thinks fundamentalist marriages are oppressive. The disrespect comes from invoking someone’s sinfulness or the evil of their views to justify

denying commercial contact. It does not lie in judging which party has morally correct views.

A comparable argument applies to most cases of complicity-avoiding ideological employment denial. For example, imagine a law firm fires or refuses to hire a lawyer whose social media post said that Palestinian violence was an understandable response to Israeli oppression. The firm believes that employing this lawyer would make it complicit in terrorism or antisemitism. Not hiring the lawyer inhibits her ability to express solidarity with Palestinians and, therefore, to live authentically. The lawyer’s desire to express her views does not rely on disdain for the law firm or its values. However, the law firm’s non-complicity efforts depend on its disdain for the lawyer’s deeply held views. By invoking non-complicity with terrorism or antisemitism, the firm asserts that the lawyer’s values are evil—that is, antisemitic or terrorist-sympathizing. The law firm’s non-complicity justification masks disdain in the same way as a feminist baker who does not want to sell wedding cakes for fundamentalist weddings.99Two kinds of complicity-avoiding employment exclusions do not fit the pattern of asymmetric disdain. First, the employee’s speech might insult the employer, targeting the employer’s identity or values. Imagine that a Catholic employer refuses to hire a job candidate who posted online that “Catholicism equals Pedophilia” to protest insufficient redress for church sexual abuse victims. This example is more symmetric than typical non-complicity cases. Second, some non-complicity claims do not express disdain. For example, suppose a prospective employee donates generously to a charity while the employer regularly donates to an opposing cause. The employer does not want to undermine own donations by indirectly funding the opposition. This desire shows no disrespect because it does not rely on disdain for the employee’s actions. Both examples are likely rare and would be hard to accommodate with exceptions to legal rules. Again, the problem is not that the law firm is wrong to think the lawyer’s position is antisemitic or that the feminist baker is wrong to condemn fundamentalist marriages as oppressive. The problem is expecting someone committed to the other side to accept your moral judgment as a reason to exclude them from commerce.

Of course, employment exclusion differs from vendor discrimination in several ways, including having different material consequences. Being fired or not hired often imposes financial and personal costs far greater than being turned away by a vendor. However, my point concerns the interest in non-complicity, which is similar in both examples. In any case, the more significant material stakes for employees only strengthen the argument for restricting employer action based on non-complicity compared to the vendor argument.

Some scholars argue that we should accept non-complicity as grounds for excluding people from pursuing hateful or oppressive goals.100See, e.g., Amy J. Sepinwall, Conscience in Commerce: Conceptualizing Discrimination in Public Accommodations, 53 Conn. L. Rev. 1, 45, 49 (2021). Sepinwall limits her principle to allowing discrimination when the good or service would be used to facilitate hate or oppression. That idea likely does not extend to employment unless the employee would use their position to advance hate. They might forbid most employer exclusion based on ideology but allow employers to deny jobs to racists or antisemites to avoid complicity. However, their position faces problems.101For a longer discussion of these problems, see Altman, Discrimination, supra note 36, at 6–11. Like the argument for punishing hate speech, this position has the potential to expand widely. Suppose employers can exclude antisemites based on non-complicity. Can they also exclude abortion supporters or opponents because people with these views favor murder or the oppression of women? What about supporters or opponents of DEI if the employer thinks their views are racist? Many positions on controversial issues can be described as hateful and oppressive. Exempting hateful positions from a general ban on employment exclusion might expand to cover a wide range of political speech.

My prior article concluded that vendors whose consciences preclude them from serving customers should protect their integrity by changing businesses.102Id. Their reason for excluding customers is disrespectful, and they have alternative ways to live with integrity. The same applies to employers who object to employing people whose values they reject. They should not employ people if they think employment makes them complicit in their employees’ speech or political acts.

This might seem unreasonably burdensome to employers. However, several considerations support it. First, disrespectful reasons should not be counted when assessing fair opportunities for living with integrity. Second, the position that employing someone makes you complicit in their activities is hard to accommodate. People who hold such views have as much interest as anyone else in living with integrity. But by embracing this view, they make outsized demands on others to help them avoid complicity. The harm they cause is not merely the undermining of one employee’s integrity. They create incentives for all potential employees to hide their views, thereby harming the public by exacerbating censorship and polarization. Unlike the values of speech and non-polarization, non-complicity serves only private ends. There is no public interest in expansive non-complicity views, parallel to the public interest in open discussion and non-polarization. Third, few people hold such broad complicity concerns, and fewer still hold them intensely. The law needs mechanisms to distinguish sincere invocations of a view strongly felt from pretextual and exaggerated versions. One sensible solution to this sorting problem is to ask people to protect their integrity, even at significant cost, rather than imposing costs on others.

B. Employer Non-Association and Speech

Employers might advance several associational interests to justify ideological exclusion. One interest is that they do not want to be near people whose views they dislike. This interest is sometimes a version of non-complicity, relying on the idea that the employer is morally tainted by proximity (discussed above). However, it might not reflect complicity; it might reflect discomfort with being around people with different views or distrust of people with different views.

We should resist exclusion claims based on employer discomfort and distrust. Discomfort often masks disdain and has been a code word to justify discrimination. More broadly, we should combat rather than indulge discomfort and distrust deriving from disagreement. Discomfort and distrust are at the core of affective polarization. The law should encourage people to become comfortable working across political and moral divides and to build trust by working together.

Other associational interests are not urgent for most businesses. They do not resemble intimate associations, in which bonds of affection and admiration are central to the relationship, or private groups devoted to causes or common interests, in which shared purposes are central to achieving the group’s goals. For this reason, courts have not accepted associational interests as pressing for most businesses.103See James D. Nelson, Essay, The Freedom of Business Association, 115 Colum. L. Rev. 461, 468 (2015); Elizabeth Sepper, James D. Nelson & Charlotte Garden, Expressive Association at Work, 124 Mich. L. Rev. (forthcoming 2026).

Employers sometimes invoke speech interests to justify excluding employees. They hope that excluding certain workers will communicate their values to employees or potential customers. For example, to show customers and workers that the company embraces equality and diversity, it might refuse to hire workers who reject those values or fail to show adequate commitment to a specific view of equality in a diversity statement. Or, to show support for Israel, the employer might exclude those who protest Israel’s existence.104For an account of employment denial that emphasizes its role as employer speech that threatens employee speech, see Amy J. Sepinwall, Boycotting Law Students, Ariz. L. Rev. (forthcoming 2026).

This argument has several problems. The main difficulty is that employers have many ways to signal their commitment to values without undermining others’ integrity or exacerbating social problems. They can state their values directly and demonstrate how those values shape the firm. Excluding those with different values is not necessary to achieve the end. Another problem is that such exclusion may have the effect (or even be a pretext for) objectionable discrimination or corruption. For example, an employer might want to signal its commitment to equal treatment of women by refusing to hire abortion opponents. In doing so, it might discriminate against people based on their religion or pressure potential employees to hide their views.

Although most employers do not need ideological exclusion to protect their speech and associational interests, there are exceptions. These might include organizations dedicated to political, religious, artistic, and moral goals.105Allowing such exclusions can be problematic. For example, some anti-abortion organizations have sought the right to fire employees for their reproductive decisions, citing associational interests. See, e.g., Slattery v. Hochul, 61 F.4th 278, 294–95 (2d Cir. 2023); CompassCare v. Hochul, 125 F.4th 49, 57, 69 (2d Cir. 2025). Religious organizations and those with creative goals already demand the right to discriminate in some contexts.106Fulton v. City of Philadelphia, 141 S. Ct. 1868, 1871 (2021); 303 Creative LLC v. Elenis, 143 S. Ct. 2298, 2303 (2023). They would likely seek similar exemptions from any law forbidding employer exclusion based on speech. Indeed, Disney tried (unsuccessfully) to defend firing Gina Carano by invoking its speech rights.107Order Denying Defendant’s Motion to Dismiss at 10, Carano v. The Walt Disney Co., No. 2:24-cv-01009 (C.D. Cal. July 24, 2024).

Exceptions may be warranted for mission-driven organizations, such as political groups or charities. Non-profits and political organizations may need employees who share their aims. Some for-profit employers have similar needs. For example, specialist law firms, such as labor-side employment firms, may screen for lawyers who favor their preferred clients.

The appropriate scope of such exemptions is complex. However, such exceptions must be narrowly drawn to prevent expansive or pretextual use that undermines the benefits of laws restricting ideological employment exclusion.

To summarize this Part, employers seeking to avoid complicity with employees’ views and actions should stop employing people if doing so compromises their consciences. Asking others to accept an employer’s disdain for their deeply held commitments does not rely on reasons the disadvantaged party can accept. We should reject employers’ discomfort as a justification for denying jobs and instead encourage people to become comfortable working together despite moral and political divides. Moreover, other associational interests are not pressing for most employers, and employers can advance their speech interests without ideological employment denial. That said, there are exceptions to these conclusions. Mission-driven employers, for instance, should be allowed to deny employment in narrow circumstances to protect their speech and associational interests.

IV. Inadvertent Social Pressure and Employer Economic Interests

Some employers use ideological exclusions for economic reasons. In most cases, however, employers can achieve their economic goals without undermining employee integrity, chilling speech, or exacerbating polarization. Below, I illustrate this conclusion using three economic interests: customer and employee retention, workplace efficiency, and merit.

A. Customer and Employee Retention

Businesses worry about their reputations. Employers may prefer to exclude employees with unpopular views because they do not want others to think the employer shares those views or to associate those views with their businesses. Such associations could lead to lost customers or difficulty recruiting and retaining employees.

However, this attribution argument is usually unpersuasive. For low-level employees, especially in large companies, few observers will know their views, and fewer still will assume that an employer shares them. In part, this is endogenous (that is, the inference drawn will depend on the background rule). If the law forbids ideological hiring and firing (and people know about the law), observers will be less likely to presume that an employer shares their employees’ views. Conversely, if ideological hiring is permitted and becomes typical, observers will have more reason to assume that an employer shares an employee’s views. That said, for smaller firms or high-level employees, the non-attribution interest may be weightier.

A related concern is when employees, particularly celebrities, are part of the product sold. Customers might not care about the employer’s views, but they may be so displeased by the employee’s statements that they look elsewhere for goods and services. Although this concern is legitimate, the Netrebko example highlights the dangers of protecting it. Perhaps the Metropolitan Opera fired Netrebko because it feared losing ticket sales or donations. However, unless the law requires evidence of lost income, this justification can easily mask employer dismissals based on punishment, corruption, discomfort, or non-complicity. Indeed, opera fans continue to

patronize venues that hire Netrebko,108Francisco Salazar, Anna Netrebko Makes History Selling Out Palm Beach Opera’s Gala For the First Time, OperaWire (Jan. 30, 2025), https://operawire.com/anna-netrebko-makes-history-selling-out-palm-beach-operas-gala-for-the-first-time [https://perma.cc/4PHD-6PJ6]. suggesting the Metropolitan Opera’s fears may have been unfounded.

B. Workplace Efficiency

Employers may worry that employees will be uncomfortable around coworkers with unpopular views. This might lead to workplace inefficiencies or difficulty recruiting and retaining employees.

One might be tempted to dismiss this claim by pointing to studies showing the benefits of workplace diversity. However, these studies are equivocal, suggesting both benefits to creativity and drawbacks to efficiency.109See, e.g., Gunter K. Stahl, Martha L. Maznevski, Andreas Voigt & Karsten Jonsen, Unraveling the Effects of Cultural Diversity in Teams: A Meta-Analysis of Research on Multicultural Work Groups, 41 J. Int’l Bus. Stud. 690, 692, 694 (2010). If hiring employees with unpopular views leads to workplace disputes and distrust, the efficiency costs might outweigh the creativity benefits of viewpoint diversity. Moreover, employers can achieve substantial viewpoint diversity (and thus creativity) while excluding people with extreme views.

Indeed, one scholar argues that we should allow employers to discriminate based on ideology to protect workers from the harms of political polarization. According to R. George Wright, polarization and pressure to take stands on public controversies have politicized our workplaces to the detriment of worker comfort and efficiency.110R. George Wright, Political Discrimination by Private Employers, 87 U. Cin. L. Rev. 761, 769 (2019). Although Wright acknowledges that banning ideological exclusion might support a social consensus that workplaces are depoliticized spaces—as I urge—he notes that this optimistic forecast lacks solid empirical support.111Id. at 776–77.

Wright’s skepticism is fair. My suggestion that we use workplace integration to fortify society against polarization might not work. However, reducing polarization is too important to allow the metastasis of political isolation and disdain. Even if we cannot guarantee success, we should pursue strategies to encourage integration and combat polarization.

Concerns about workplace instability stemming from political opponents working together can be addressed through alternative means. People who disagree about politics and religion have successfully shared workplaces. Managers can support such cooperation by limiting political discussions in the workplace,112Protecting employees from job loss due to speech outside the workplace does not require protecting their speech within the workplace. See Volokh, Should the Law Limit, supra note 23, at 291. modeling respectful interaction, and avoiding corporate stances on political matters that show disdain for those who disagree.113For an argument favoring employer silence on political issues, see Anthony Casey & Tom Ginsburg, Corporate Leaders Need to Keep Their Mouths Shut, N.Y. Times (Jan. 29, 2025), https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/29/opinion/speech-universities-corporations-executives.html [https://archive.ph/rU1ve]. Despite limits on political discussions, coworkers will likely learn that others hold vastly different views and may recognize that their disagreements do not impede cooperation.

Employers might seek to exclude employees or potential employees if they believe their speech outside the workplace signals a higher risk of harmful workplace behavior, such as workplace harassment. For example, chanting “from the river to the sea” in a campus protest might be protected speech, assuming it did not target Jewish students for harassment, but chanting it at a Jewish coworker during working hours could be illegal harassment.

Yet employers need not screen employees’ speech outside the workplace to prevent harassment. Absent other information about an employee, there is little reason to assume that employees will behave in the workplace as they do online or in political protests, or that they will not follow workplace rules.114Social scientists have documented the many ways that people’s behavior online differs from offline behavior, though they disagree about causal mechanisms. See, e.g., Alicea Lieberman & Juliana Schroeder, Two Social Lives: How Differences Between Online and Offline Interaction Influence Social Outcomes, 31 Current Op. Psych. 16, 16 (2020); Ruohan Wen & Asako Miura, Online Disinhibition: Reconsideration of the Construct and Proposal of a New Model, 9 Osaka Hum. Scis. 63, 63 (2023).

C. Merit

Employers might prefer employees who do not use intemperate language or express extreme or reductionist views. Such employees might be more cooperative workers or more subtle, better-informed thinkers. In this regard, screening for employee speech resembles testing for personality, knowledge, or intelligence.115J. William Stoughton, Lori Foster Thompson & Adam W. Meade, Big Five Personality Traits Reflected in Job Applicants’ Social Media Postings, 16 Cyberpsychology, Behav. & Soc. Networking 800, 800 (2013).

However, employers can assess these qualities without examining employee speech. They can instead rely on personality tests, competence tests, grades, and references.116Some personality tests seem to predict employment-related behavior. Jan Luca Pletzer, Janneke K. Oostrom & Reinout E. de Vries, HEXACO Personality and Organizational Citizenship Behavior: A Domain- and Facet-Level Meta-Analysis, 34 Hum. Performance 126, 126–27 (2021). These alternatives would not undermine employee integrity, chill speech, or exacerbate polarization. There are concerns that employees may lie on personality tests to secure jobs.117Justin R. Feeney, Richard D. Goffin & Shadi Beshai, Applicant Faking Warnings: Are They Really Effective?, Personality & Individual Differences, Jan. 2023, at 1, 1. Even so, there is inadequate evidence to suggest that social media screening is superior to personality tests in predicting employee quality, although, admittedly, social media screening might be less costly.118See, e.g., Zohra Ihsan & Adrian Furnham, The New Technologies in Personality Assessment: A Review, 70 Consulting Psych. J. 147, 160 (2018); Christopher J. Hartwell, Jake T. Harrison, Rahul S. Chauhan, Julia Levashina & Michael A. Campion, Structuring Social Media Assessments in Employee Selection, 30 Int’l J. Selection & Assessment 330, 332 (2022).

Employers might respond that no single metric predicts employee success equally well for all workplaces. In the absence of settled science, they should be permitted to use the screening tools that seem most suitable to them. This argument has some appeal, because employers are right when they say it is hard to predict employee quality. However, it also has the potential to be abused. Employers might cite intemperate language as a pretext (or be unconsciously biased) and exclude views they dislike by labeling them intemperate or reductionist.

That said, some controversial employee speech may justify merit-based exclusion if it reveals a candidate to be unqualified for specific jobs. Job candidates who deny established scientific consensus may be unqualified for jobs that require scientific or policy expertise. Those who embrace conspiracy theories despite contrary evidence may be unqualified for jobs as journalists or educators. However, even this exception needs to be narrowly interpreted. Science denialists or conspiracy theory enthusiasts should not be disqualified for jobs unlikely to require scientific abilities or knowledge of public affairs.

Employee speech can sometimes render an employee unfit for their job. The speech might undermine the employee’s ability to accomplish core job functions. Examples include teachers who make public remarks that demean their students, thereby undermining the trust needed between students and teachers, or police officers whose remarks demean the citizens they serve.119See, e.g., Fenico v. City of Philadelphia, 755 F. Supp. 3d 602, 613 (E.D. Pa. 2024).

To summarize, most employers’ economic concerns can be addressed without ideological job denial. Employee speech will rarely be attributed to employers or undermine their profits. There are some exceptions, such as celebrities and corporate leaders, who are integral to their employers’ brands. However, permitting job denial in these cases must be approached with caution lest business reasons be used as pretexts for other goals. Workplace unrest stemming from varied employee views can be addressed through effective management. Finally, screening employee speech is unlikely to be the only, or even the best, way to ensure employee quality. Other indicia of merit can be used without chilling speech and fostering polarization.

V. Final Reflections

A. Do We Need Legal Regulation?

We create social pressure through speech, association, and spending. We criticize, boycott, shame, and shun one another while pursuing aims central to our lives. However, these tools can be misused to suppress speech and diversity, undermine efforts to live according to one’s values, and exacerbate polarization. I have argued that most ideological employment exclusion falls into the second category: employers abuse social pressure either to pursue illicit ends or to achieve reasonable goals that could be achieved in alternative ways.

Sometimes, when people misuse social pressure, the best solution is counterpressure; we criticize, boycott, shame, and shun those who abuse these social tools. However, in other cases, legal regulation of social pressure is more sensible, such as when social pressure is used against the powerless, when mobs employ social pressure, or when pressure and counterpressure threaten to become a vicious cycle of revenge.

Legal tools are difficult to implement when people use social pressure for both valuable and illicit ends that are hard to distinguish.120For example, religious shunning serves associational aims in some religions but also sometimes punishes and deters people who want to leave the religion. Legal remedies have been tried but are often ineffective. See Nicholas Merkin, Getting Rid of Sinners May Be Expensive: A Suggested Approach to Torts Related to Religious Shunning Under the Free Exercise Clause, 34 Colum. J.L. & Soc. Probs. 369, 384 (2001). However, if my arguments are correct, employment exclusion is rarely needed to pursue legitimate ends. Additionally, polarization and the targeting of unpopular views suggest that social counterpressure and self-restraint will fail as solutions. Thus, a regulatory solution likely makes sense.121For an argument that moral but not legal duties should be used to protect employee speech, see Messina, supra note 23. Legal rules governing social pressure can mitigate some of its downsides, helping to focus that pressure on cases where it causes less harm.

Admittedly, legal rules alone cannot prevent ideological employment denial. We must also build a social consensus against ideological job denial and in favor of free speech and cooperation across ideological lines. Employment laws are notoriously difficult to enforce, especially when

applied to hiring. Nevertheless, employment laws can provide occasional remedies and help shape this social consensus over time.

B. Moral Uses of Social Pressure

This Article began by asking what uses of social pressure are morally permissible and whether we can resolve Mill’s concern that social pressure might serve valuable ends while also censoring ideas, undermining integrity, and inducing unnecessary conformity. The tension Mill identified cannot be eliminated; social pressure, which is often a byproduct of rightly protected activities, sometimes threatens other people’s freedom. However, we can mitigate concerns about censorship, integrity, and conformity by protecting valuable uses of social pressure that cannot be pursued without risk to others and by discouraging uses in two kinds of cases: when social pressure is used for illicit ends and when it is used for legitimate goals that can be pursued in less harmful ways. Such social restraint requires institutions that fairly allocate opportunities for living authentically. They might help us avoid social pressure that needlessly curtails public debate and exacerbates polarization. They can also be alert to the possibility that social pressure will be used against people with limited power, inequitably allocating opportunities for integrity and suppressing speech necessary for emancipatory social movements.

Identifying legitimate uses of social pressure is easier when we recognize that it falls into several categories. One category of social pressure arises from its intentional use to change other people’s behavior. This pressure is permissible if it is not pursued to corrupt others or unjustly punish them. For example, we can try to change others’ behavior when they act carelessly or out of self-interest. We can shame ill-mannered strangers and shirking friends, or boycott companies that pay their workers too little. Such efforts do not corrupt their targets because the targets do not aim to exclude financial gain or personal reputation from their decisions. However, intentionally using social pressure becomes problematic when it disrespects targets by offering financial incentives to violate moral commitments, such as boycotting a merchant to deter it from donating to a charity or refusing to hire college students to deter their political speech.

Social pressure is also problematic when used to punish speech. Social penalties are often directed against those whose values we dislike, people whose speech is ambiguous, or those who offend us but have done no wrong. Even when we penalize wrongful speech, such as hate speech, we risk its further use in less straightforward cases, punishing the innocent and exacerbating tensions over culture war issues. In our pluralistic and increasingly polarized society, social penalties for speech should be avoided unless we find ways to restrict them to clearly culpable speech.

A second category of social pressure that undermines integrity arises as an unintended effect of actions taken while pursuing other, often valuable, goals. The reasons for imposing unintended social pressure can be central to the integrity of the person imposing that pressure and cannot be pursued otherwise. An example is refusing to befriend someone whose values I abhor. Friendship requires affection and admiration. So, the good of friendship cannot be pursued without risking the integrity of excluded people.

However, social pressure is inappropriate when the goals pursued are illicit and when we do not fairly distribute opportunities for living authentically. Sometimes, the interest pursued when imposing such risks is illicit. I argued that we should treat non-complicity as an illicit reason for employment denial. This is partly because it disrespectfully relies on reasons that undermine self-respect and partly because employers can avoid complicity without discriminating. Even when employers have good reasons for ideological exclusion, such as protecting speech and associational interests or advancing economic goals like profit and employee retention, most employers can adequately advance those goals through other means. We should insist they use those means because ideological job denial threatens to chill speech and exacerbate polarization. Moreover, because jobs are central to thriving in our society, social pressure created through job denial is often difficult to resist.

These ideas do not solve all the difficulties raised by Mill’s puzzle (and might not appeal to Mill). But they suggest some solutions.

C. Revisiting the Examples

The paper began with examples: job denials based on speech about Zionism, sex, and gender; the refusal to condemn Vladimir Putin; political comments about Trump and Charlie Kirk; membership in a racist political party; and perceived affiliation with the Communist Party. I asked what was wrong with these exclusions and whether they differed from doxing and shaming sexual harassers during the #MeToo era.

Boycotting anti-Zionist students is corrupting, seeking to entice them to abandon their principles for money. It also seeks to punish people who might not be wrongdoers. Even if you think they are wrongdoers, the boycott embraces norms that might spread to punish non-culpable people and undermine cooperation. Similar arguments condemn the firing of Gina Carano, Anna Netrebko, the British National Party employee, and those who celebrated Charlie Kirk’s death or criticized him after he was killed.

The #MeToo movement was different. Sexual harassers deserve to be punished, and legal rules specifying what constitutes harassment help limit the punishment to wrongful harassers. Moreover, because sexual harassment likely does not represent the deeply held views of harassers, it does not threaten integrity, speech, or polarization in the same way as ideological employment exclusion.

The arguments marshaled against these examples do not apply to employers who have good reasons for ideological employment denial that cannot be pursued in other ways. Organizations devoted to specific missions are the most obvious.

D. But What About the Nazis?

Some readers might think we should generally disallow ideological employment denial, but we should allow employers to exclude people who express hatred toward groups based on race, religion, and sex. They might contend that all my arguments lose force when applied to people who express hate. Such individuals do not deserve respect, so we do not owe them restraint from corrupt pressures or protection from insulting demands for non-complicity. They deserve punishment, so we should feel free to harm them through job denial for their culpable speech. Their presence in the workplace will likely undermine efforts to foster respect and cooperation through workplace integration. They will likely tarnish employer reputations and mistreat coworkers, which provides employers with sound moral and business reasons to exclude them.

This position, embraced in much of Europe, has evident attractions. However, we should resist it for several reasons, especially in the U.S. First, I disagree with the claim that we can withhold respectful cooperation from people with unreasonable views. We need not offer them reasons they can accept if they are unwilling to seek reasonable terms of cooperation. However, we must still respect their rights and cooperate with them on terms a reasonable person can accept.122Jonathan Quong, Liberalism Without Perfection 290 (2011). If necessary, John Rawls says we can treat those with unreasonable views differently to contain doctrines threatening a well-ordered society’s stability. However, it seems unlikely that allowing Nazis to share our workplaces qualifies as something that threatens the stability of a well-ordered society. Many religions believe that the adherents of other religions will burn in hell. Rawls did not think that we could forbid the dissemination of such doctrines. There are, of course, views in current circulation that do threaten our society’s stability, notably efforts to establish populist autocratic rule to displace functioning democracies. But workplace exclusion laws are unlikely to have any effect on these movements. We fail to respect their rights and cooperate if we try to corrupt them or demand that they accept denigrating reasons for our actions.

Second, as noted above, we should not trust employers or the government to pick which views are so heinous that we will punish their expression through employment discrimination. The likely targets will not just be Nazis (and might not even include them). If progressives are in power, those punished might include people who oppose abortion rights or same-sex marriage or who embrace traditional roles for women. If the right is in power, targets might include people who favor abortion rights, gender-affirming care for transgender children, or anything related to DEI. If power is divided, we may see a patchwork of protections in red and blue states, creating even more incentives for residential segregation by ideology, mutual distrust, and social pressure used as a tool for retaliation. Moreover, it is unclear whether punishing purveyors of hate is the most effective way to combat its spread. It might merely fuel such movements’ feelings of isolation and persecution.

Third, as noted earlier, a law banning employment exclusion based on ideology for everyone except Nazis (or hate speech, or harmful speech, however defined) would likely be unconstitutional in the U.S. If so, we must choose between offering no protection against ideological employment denial and offering protection that extends to Nazis. Vulnerable people who hold views that we should respect far outnumber people with hate-based views. We should protect them even at the cost of helping a few Nazis.

Finally, people can work cooperatively even knowing that some of their coworkers hold views that express contempt for their values. We work with people whose religious views include predicting our eternal damnation, who believe our attitudes toward abortion condone murder or oppression, who think our views about merit show us to be racists, and who think we recently voted for a tyrant. Justices Scalia and Ginsburg worked together and formed a friendship, even though his religion might have characterized her as having spent a career supporting the murder of babies. At the same time, her feminist commitments might have portrayed him as devoted to ideals that oppress women. We should not presume that some subset of people with views we find most hateful will misbehave or undermine efforts at peaceful coexistence, or that we cannot find ways to coexist in proximity. Rather than assume cooperation is impossible, we should try working together.

 

 

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1

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 *Virginia S. & Fred H. Bice Professor of Law, University of Southern California Gould School of Law. For helpful comments, I thank Catherine Fisk, Felipe Jimenez, Greg Keating, Dan Klerman, George Letsas, Erin Miller, Alain Pottage, Marcela Prieto, Daria Roithmayr, Irit Samet, Mike Selmi, Amy Sepinwall, Mike Simkovic, Danny Sokol, Raphaële Xenidis, and participants at the Sciences Po Law School Faculty Colloquium. 

Systemic Absolution

  Introduction

Ancient religious tradition forms the bedrock foundation for the prevailing approach to criminal punishment. American criminal penal statutes are steeped in retributivism, which at its core requires punishment proportional to the crime committed—in other words, the Old Testament, lex talionis, or “an eye for an eye.”1An “eye for an eye” (or lex talionis) originates in the Old Testament in Exodus 21:23–27 but is also important in the Code of Hammurabi and Islamic Law. See Exodus 21:23–27 (“Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, [b]urning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.”); see also Deuteronomy 19:21. Retributivist scholars have shown disagreement as to whether the definition of retributivism includes the idea of “eye for an eye” or lex talionis. See Jeremy Waldron, Lex Talionis, 34 Ariz. L. Rev. 25, 26 (1992) (“In the popular imagination, [lex talionis] is regarded as a principle of retribution. Its stern insistence on matching the penalty to the crime seems to indicate an almost entirely backward-looking approach to punishment.”). Compare Morris J. Fish, An Eye for an Eye: Proportionality as a Moral Principle of Punishment, 28 Oxford J. Legal Stud. 57, 57 (2008) (“[T]he Lex Talionis . . . is implicit in the Kantian doctrine of retributivism.”), with Douglas Husak, Retributivism and Over-Punishment, 41 Law & Phil. 169, 175 (2022) (“[R]etributivism itself has no implications about the mode or kind of punishment” and is not the same as “an eye for an eye” because the punishment can differ from the crime).

Elliot Dorff clarifies that the quintessential “eye for an eye” philosophy has been specifically interpreted as “the offender must compensate the victim monetarily.” Elliot N. Dorff, The Elements of Forgiveness: A Jewish Approach in Dimensions of Forgiveness: Psychological Research and Theological Perspectives 33 (Everett L. Worthington ed., 1998). Morris J. Fish explained that the phrase really means “ ‘an eye for the value of an eye’—that is, if an individual removes another individual’s eye, the former is to pay to the latter the value of an eye.” James Daniel Beaton, Finding Justice in Ancient Israelite Law: A Survey of the Legal System of the Israelites During the Post-Exodus, Pre-Exilic Period, 41.2 J. Study Old Testament 139, 155–56 (2016).
Modern criminal statutes and prisons are largely set up to punish offenders who harm someone proportionate to the harm they caused, as determined by the legislature, often through incapacitation rather than corporal punishment.2Donald Braman, Punishment and Accountability: Understanding and Reforming Criminal Sanctions in America, 53 UCLA L. Rev. 1143, 1171–72 (2006) (noting that American independence was accompanied by a philosophical shift and criminal justice reform that favored incarceration over more corporal forms of punishment); Leo M. Romero, Punitive Damages, Criminal Punishment, and Proportionality: The Importance of Legislative Limits, 41 Conn. L. Rev. 109, 116 n.27 (2008) (discussing the proportionality of punishment to seriousness of offense as reflected in modern code). Traditionally, corporal punishment was inflicted on the offender in proportion to the crime the person had committed.34 William Blackstone, Commentaries on the laws of England Book IV: Of Public Wrongs 60 (Ruth Paley ed., Oxford Univ. Press 2016) (1769) (noting how corporal punishment was used for “the amendment of the offender”). Historically, however, criminal tradition also involved a community coming together periodically to wipe the slate clean of crime, typically with a ritual involving a sacrifice.4Examples of these, which will be discussed in this Article, include the Scapegoat ritual, general absolution in the Catholic church, and the Jubilee year. See Ilona Rashkow, Azazel: The Scapegoat in the Bible and Ancient Near East, 51 Jewish Bible Q., 85, 86 (2023) (“The scapegoat . . . has a specific function: to remove the contamination caused by the intentional sins of the Israelites from the tabernacle complex by physically carrying it all into the wilderness”); Patrick Downes, Alert Prompts Hawaii Bishop to Give General Absolution to Deacon Group, Nat’l Catholic Rep. (Jan. 17, 2018) https://www.ncronline.org/news/alert-prompts-hawaii-bishop-give-general-absolution-deacon-group [https://web.archive.org/web/20230206151903/https://www.ncronline.org/news/alert-prompts-hawaii-bishop-give-general-absolution-deacon-group]; A Jubilee Call for Debt Forgiveness, U.S. Conf. Catholic Bishops (Apr. 1999), https://www.usccb.org/resources/jubilee-call-debt-forgiveness [https://perma.cc/YUT7-TDH2] (observing that the Jubilee year allowed the entire community to reset every 50 years, providing “a fresh start for the poor, an opportunity to reestablish justice and equity”). It was important for the community to join together to punish a person who committed a crime, so they would publicly gather to witness corporal punishment for individuals who committed serious crimes.5During biblical times, the Law of Moses encouraged corporal punishment, including an “eye for an eye.” Exodus 21:24 (King James). In the New Testament Era, the community was prepared to stone an adulterous woman until Jesus intervened. John 8:1–11 (King James). But equally important was a communal ritual that periodically allowed society to collectively absolve itself of crime.6During the same biblical times when corporal punishment under the Law of Moses was practiced, the Jews also engaged in scapegoat rituals to absolve individuals and the community of past sins and crimes. See supra note 5.

This concept is one referred to here as systemic absolution, where society periodically and systematically cleanses or atones itself of the burdens of crime, offers forgiveness for offenders who have been punished, and allows the community to be reunified. Robin Steinberg, a prominent legal activist and founder of The Bail Project, based a wrongful conviction defense on an ancient Jewish scapegoat ritual symbolizing atonement.7Robin Steinberg, The Courage of Compassion: A Journey from Judgement to Connection 109–39 (2023). She explained that in Leviticus, a book in the Old Testament, “members of a community gather[ed] their sins and load[ed] them on the back of a goat. They then sen[t] the goat out into the desert, hoping to alleviate themselves of the burden and guilt of their failures.”8Id. at 127–28. Steinberg analogized to this ancient practice to instruct the jury that thousands of years ago, there existed a means for people to be freed of their crimes, hoping to “undo some hardwired biases and tap into the jurors’ sense of injustice.”9Id. at 127. This ritual allowed society to sacrifice one goat and allow all debts and crimes to be forgiven. Steinberg challenged the jurors to determine as representatives of the community that they were willing to shed the weight of a woman’s former conviction and allow her defendant to go free. This discussion of atonement and ancient Jewish ritual successfully won over a criminal jury, but its application might not be limited to a closing argument at trial. The modern corollary to the scapegoat ritual is the holy Yom Kippur Day of Atonement where, once a year, Jews collectively release the sins from the past year and ask for forgiveness to wipe the slate clean.10Calum Carmichael, The Origin of the Scapegoat Ritual, 50 Vetus Testamentum 167, 174 (2000). Other cultural traditions incorporate the idea of atonement or tabula rasa, wiping the slate clean with periodic repentance and group sacrament rituals.11See David P. Wright, The Disposal of Impurity: Elimination Rites in the Bible and in Hittite and Mesopotamian Literature 18 (1987). While criminal punishment today is loosely based on Law of Moses principles,12William Ian Miller, Eye for an Eye 20 (2005) (“Though we do not officially make criminal punition compensatory, we have not rid ourselves of the idea that it too is a payment, a discharge of something owed by the criminal, and in any event we must put a value on a particular punishment so as to commensurate it with other punishments meted out for other crimes.”); Waldron, supra note 1, at 26 (“[Lex Talionis] is a theory that purports to guide us in our choice of appropriate penalties.”). what is missing beyond punishment is a path towards systemic absolution.

Common in the Catholic faith, absolution is a term associated with forgiveness, or removing the weight of sin or crime.13Absolution, Cambridge Dictionary, https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/absolution [https://web.archive.org/web/20231209030825/https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/absolution] (last visited Oct. 25, 2024) (defines absolution as “the act of forgiving someone, especially in the Christian religion, for something bad that they have done or thought”); Absolution, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/absolution [https://perma.cc/QYD8-YUL8] (last visited Oct. 25, 2024) (defines absolution as “the act of forgiving someone for having done something wrong or sinful”). A person approaches a priest for absolution from a sin, and after prayer and repentance a person receives forgiveness from God for that sin.14Absolution, Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/topic/absolution-Christianity [https://perma.cc/5NN4-FCUD] (last visited Oct. 25, 2024). The absolution considered here is not a religious one but a systemic one, where society provides a formal release from punishment, offering relief to the person receiving it. While the concept of absolution has never been used in criminal law, criminal law has largely conceptualized punishment using religious philosophy. While there are some semblances of forgiveness in existence in modern criminal law, including clemency and pardons, they are used sparingly as political tools at the end of a presidential term to benefit select individuals, not having large-scale impact on many criminal defendants.15Matt Viser & Perry Stein, President Biden Faces Criticism over Controversial Pardon of His Son Hunter, Wash. Post (Dec. 2, 2024), https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2024/12/02/hunter-biden-pardon-controversy-trump-criticism [https://perma.cc/YZD7-7GVV] (outlining criticism from both Republicans and Democrats towards President Biden for pardoning his son at the end of his presidential term); Peter Baker, J. David Goodman, Michael Rothfeld and Elizabeth Williamson, The 11 Criminals Granted Clemency by Trump Had One Thing in Common: Connections, N.Y. Times (Feb. 19, 2020), https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/19/us/politics/trump-pardons.html [https://perma.cc/V2XL-XJYD] (criticizing President Trump’s use of pardons as being “driven . . . by friendship, fame, [and] personal empathy”); Lydia Wheeler, Obama’s Use of Clemency Power Sparks Criticism, The Hill (Sep. 3, 2016), https://thehill.com/regulation/administration/294350-obamas-use-of-clemency-power-sparks-criticism [https://perma.cc/EP9W-Y3ZB] (showing criticism towards President Obama for his use of mass clemency for drug offenders, including “one inmate [who] was the leader of a drug ring that trafficked in over 10 tons of cocaine”). Historically, though, criminal punishment and accountability have typically been accompanied by the concept of societal forgiveness, or absolution.16See Steinberg, supra note 7, at 128. Indeed, many cultures have had practices for both punishing and absolving people of crimes. Like under ancient Jewish law, corporal punishment was common when a crime or sin was discovered, but the scapegoat ritual periodically eliminated sin and crime, allowing reconciliation of the community.17See Wright, supra note 11, at 18. While many cultural traditions have provided a way for the community to absolve former crimes, there is no longer any societal mechanism to absolve society of crime.

While forgiveness and absolution have always existed privately for citizens and have even been used in limited ways by the executive branch, these concepts have not been conceptualized in broader structural ways. Since the 1500s, common law systems of criminal justice have had a prosecutor represent the “State” or “King” and bring crimes against it to court.18William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England Book IV: Of Public wrongs 51–52 (Ruth Paley ed., Oxford Univ. Press 2016) (1769) (“[T]he king, in whom centers the majesty of the whole community, is supposed by the law to be the person injured by every infraction of the public right[s] belonging to that community, and is therefore in all cases the proper prosecutor for every public offence.”); John H. Langbein, The Origins of Public Prosecution at Common Law, 17 Am. J. Legal. Hist. 313, 313 (1973) (“[T]he prosecutor became a regular figure of Anglo-American criminal procedure only in Tudor times.”). The modern criminal justice system similarly considers any crime committed against an individual as a crime against the entire state.19Yue Ma, Exploring the Origins of Public Prosecution, 18 Int’l Crim. Just. Rev. 190, 204 (2008) (“[T]he American system has left private individuals with no right to commence a criminal proceeding.”). As such, an individual never decides to “charge” a case.20Id. Rather, this decision is left to the discretion of the prosecutor who enacts justice for acts against the community or state.21See Richard Bloom, Prosecutorial Discretion, 87 Geo. L.J. 1267, 1267–68 (1999) (discussing how the decision to charge a case is left up to the discretion of the prosecutor); Ellen S. Podgor, The Tainted Federal Prosecutor in an Overcriminalized Justice System, 67 Wash. & Lee L. Rev. 1569, 1569 (2010) (“Prosecutors have enormous discretion in the criminal justice system.”); Blackstone, supra note 3, at 54 (“The distinction of public wrongs from private, of crimes and misdemeanors from civil injuries, seems principally to consist in this: that private wrongs, or civil injuries, are an infringement or privation of the civil rights which belong to individuals, considered merely as individuals; public wrongs, or crimes and misdemeanors, are a breach and violation of the public rights and duties, due to the whole community . . . .”); Id. (“[E]very public offense is also a private wrong, and somewhat more; it affects the individual, and it likewise affects the community.”). While our system of justice is based on what is best for society, our system of forgiveness or absolution is one considered only at the individual level (apart from dealing with criminal behavior), not collectively or systemically. An individual harmed by a crime may have the State bring his case to justice, but forgiveness of the crime only includes participation of the victim and the defendant.22Representatives of the community can be involved in restorative justice efforts through dialogue, service and in aiding to provide perspective to help healing from the crime. See, e.g., Repairing Harm Through Community Dialogue, U.S. Dep’t of Just. Off. of Just. Programs (Nov. 27, 2023), https://bja.ojp.gov/news/feature-stories/repairing-harm-through-community-dialogue [https://web.archive.org/web/20250202083800/https://bja.ojp.gov/news/feature-stories/repairing-harm-through-community-dialogue] (discussing “community circles”). Restorative justice depends on both the victim and offender being willing and responsive to a process of unification and healing, which is not always the case. But the burdens of crime and incarceration are experienced not just by the victim and defendant, but by the community and society at large. And while restorative justice principles that bring the two together to resolve their conflict have yielded promising results, there has been no consideration of how to absolve crime from society structurally.23Bruce A. Green & Lara Bazelon, Restorative Justice from Prosecutors’ Perspective, 88 Fordham L. Rev. 2287, 2290 (2020) (“In the United States . . . restorative justice has gained much less traction outside the small circle of progressive prosecutors.”); Id. at 2295 (“[N]ationally, restorative justice processes remain little known to the public and are not prominent in discussions of criminal justice policy.”).

To date, few legal scholars have considered the role that forgiveness, or absolution, should play in criminal law. A few notable scholars have recognized that forgiveness can play a role between victims of crime and perpetrators in civil society.24Martha Minow, When Should Law Forgive? 74 (2019) (identifying amnesties and pardons as long-standing legal mechanisms for forgiveness, and identifying systems of forgiveness for debt and crimes in ancient Greece); see also Stephanos Bibas, Forgiveness in Criminal Procedure, 4 Ohio St. J. Crim. L. 329, 343 (2007) (noting that forgiveness feeds a deep human need, and that forgiveness rituals were central to colonial criminal justice); David M. Lerman, Forgiveness in the Criminal Justice System: If It Belongs, Then Why Is It So Hard to Find?, 27 Fordham Urb. L.J. 1663, 1664 (2000). The leading legal expert on forgiveness, Martha Minow, has encouraged expanded forgiveness in the law generally, which could strengthen faith in law and offer “wrongdoers a fresh start . . . [by] wiping the slate clean.”25Minow, supra note 24, at 146. Minow documents forgiveness as an important tool for international crimes, in bankruptcy practice, and with amnesties and criminal pardons.26Id. Judge Stephanos Bibas has also encouraged a role for individual forgiveness but states that “forgiveness and mercy do not square easily with a state-centered system of criminal justice.”27Bibas, supra note 24, at 333, 348 (mentioning that “[c]rimes wound relationships, and forgiveness helps to heal these wounds”). Forgiveness in the law has taken various forms, such as altered or reduced consequences for wrongdoing, the use of discretion by legal officials,28Joshua D. Rosenberg, Interpersonal Dynamics: Helping Lawyers Learn the Skills, and the Importance, of Human Relationships in the Practice of Law, 58 U. Miami L. Rev. 1225, 1229 (2004) (stating that “success in law (as in other fields) correlates significantly more with relationship skills than it does with intelligence, writing ability, or any other known factor”). judges choosing leniency,29One example of this is the mercy of Judge Frank Caprio, a municipal court judge in Providence, Rhode Island. Judge Caprio is well-known for reducing or waiving fees and punishments for parking tickets, speeding fines, and petty misdemeanors. In one such case, he showed mercy to a woman whose son had been recently murdered by waiving $400 in parking ticket fines. Louise Boyle, Meet the Parking Ticket Judge Whose Mercy Has Made Him an Internet Star—Thanks to the Heart-Wrenching Stories of the Accused and His Unique Way of Delivering Justice, Daily Mail (Jul. 31, 2017), https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4730214/Secrets-judge-parking-ticket-mercy-gone-viral [https://perma.cc/37L4-DGB5]. and voluntary expressions of apology and forgiveness.30Minow, supra note 24, at 118–19; cf. Liz Mineo, A Plea for Mercy, Harv. Gazette (Dec. 9, 2019), https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2019/12/martha-minow-on-the-power-of-forgiveness [https://perma.cc/JX2R-MDM5] (noting that although techniques for forgiveness exist in the law, they are not used fairly or consistently). Individually, restorative justice interventions like financial restitution, community service or family group conferencing,31The Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention (OJJDP) recognizes the need for restorative justice interventions over retributive demands. Financial restitution, community service, victim-offender mediation, or family group conferencing are specific examples of such interventions. To determine the youth offender’s process, juvenile justice professionals must assess the offender’s accountability, competency development, and community safety. K. Pranis, OJJDP Report: Guide for Implementing the Balanced and Restorative Justice Model (1998), https://ojjdp.ojp.gov/library/publications/guide-implementing-balanced-and-restorative-justice-model [https://perma.cc/RE4J-LXMM]. or executive pardons,32Many presidents have used their executive power to grant pardons, from George Washington all the way to today’s president. For example, President George Bush famously granted pardons in 1992 to six administration officials for their role in the Iran-contra affair. President Obama often granted executive pardons to “those convicted of nonviolent crimes under tough drug laws, which disproportionately affected black and Latino people.” Neil Vigdor, Presidential Pardons Through History, N.Y. Times (Jun. 3, 2021), https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/21/us/politics/presidential-pardons.html [https://perma.cc/LJ5K-BH8A]. have all played a role in individual cases to prioritize restoration over punishment. Despite some small notable successes in individual forgiveness between victims and perpetrators,33See, e.g., Man Exercises a Year of Forgiveness After Drunk Teen Driver Kills Wife, Two Children, Deseret News (Apr. 8, 2013, 9:00 AM), https://www.deseret.com/2013/4/8/20061840/man-exercises-a-year-of-forgiveness-after-drunk-teen-driver-kills-wife-two-children [https://perma.cc/5TTA-QTRD]. these examples remain few and far between. And there is no one who has provided theoretical or historical backing for a doctrine of systemic absolution—a path for society to periodically eliminate the burden of crime. Though elements of forgiveness exist in criminal law, they operate individually, focusing on the individual offender and their crimes rather than broader systemic absolution that likely involves structural change.

At the same time, the U.S. criminal justice system has a reputation for being particularly punitive, as this nation is the most carceral nation in the history of humanity.34Minow, supra note 24, at 1; see also Bibas, supra note 24, at 329–30 (“Modern American criminal justice, however, has little room for forgiveness.”). The American system of criminal justice is infamously harsher than any other in the world.35Minow, supra note 24, at 1. Mass incarceration is a societal menace that many have tried to address, and without significant change, it is inevitable for the foreseeable future.36Mass Incarceration Trends, Sentencing Project (May 21, 2024), https://www.sentencingproject.org/reports/mass-incarceration-trends [https://perma.cc/YH9R-Z98N] (As of 2024, over five million people are entangled in the criminal justice system.); Andrew D. Leipold, Is Mass Incarceration Inevitable?, 56 Am. Crim. L. R. 1579, 1581 (2019) (“[E]ven if mass incarceration is not inevitable, and even though much can be done to reduce the current reliance on prison as the default method of punishment, extremely high levels of imprisonment are likely to continue for many years to come.”); John F. Pfaff, Locked In: The True Causes of Mass Incarceration—And How to Achieve Real Reform 5, 18 (2017) (“For reformers hoping to make deep cuts to our prison population, these may seem like exciting times . . . I am not so optimistic.”). Punishment theory is vigorous in U.S. statutory and legal practice, but there has not been an exploration of a societal absolution of crime as a tool in dismantling our carceral system. It would not be foreign to borrow principles from religion to learn how to better handle crime, as crime and sin have been intertwined historically; for example, adultery and sodomy were crimes until very recently.37St. George Tucker, Blackstone’s Commentaries With Notes of Reference to the Constitution and Laws of the Federal Government of the United States and the Commonwealth of Virginia, 65 n.15 (1803) (“Both adultery and fornication are punishable by fine, to the use of the poor of the country or corporation.”); Okla. Stat. tit. 21, § 872 (2024) (“Any person guilty of the crime of adultery shall be guilty of a felony and punished by imprisonment . . . .”); Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U.S. 558 (2003) (determining sodomy laws unconstitutional, though adultery is still technically criminalized in Oklahoma). Our communities also carry a heavy social, familial, and racial burden as a result of mass incarceration, so the time is ripe for deeper structural inquiry into the practice of systemic absolution.38Shima Baradaran Baughman, Crime and the Mythology of Police, 99 Wash. U. L. Rev. 65, 86 (2021) (explaining how targeted arrests for minor crimes disproportionately affected minorities historically, causing distrust of police).

This Article is the first to consider whether systemic absolution can be considered as the foil for the dominant punishment theory of retributivism, allowing punishment to be followed by a path to societal atonement through structural change. It considers whether historical communal forgiveness practices might guide modern criminal practice to expand structural forgiveness for society at large. As considered here, systemic absolution is forgiveness of crimes on a broader scale focused on societal restoration after crime, apart from the individual forgiveness that might involve singular victims and offenders. It is focused more on fostering societal renewal rather than renewal of any individual. After considering the existing forms of individual forgiveness in the criminal justice system, this Article explores the role of systemic absolution and whether any modern mechanisms could reenvision criminal justice to allow for large-scale restoration after crime. This Article considers three avenues: automatic periodic expungement, periodic sentencing reduction, and deferred adjudication. There is historical precedent for systemic forgiveness practices, which have been applied to create bankruptcy law to allow people who go into debt to avoid prisons and be reintegrated into the business community.39Minow, supra note 24, at 73–74 (asserting that “[h]istorical and legal practices of debt forgiveness demonstrate the potential for achieving accommodation, for recognizing the larger context of a wrong, and for legitimately resetting affairs, allowing a fresh start.”). With systemic absolution, it might be possible to reduce mass incarceration through periodic automatic expungement of a criminal record, similar to a release of debts in bankruptcy. Recently, federal legislation has reduced sentences broadly for certain drug offenders or incarcerated individuals above the age of sixty,40First Step Act of 2018, Pub. L. No. 115-391, 132 Stat. 5194 (2018); Smarter Sentencing Act of 2021, S. 1013, 117th Cong. (2021). both structural efforts to reduce incarceration, allowing society to absolve defendants of crime broadly. And finally, deferred adjudication is happening across the country where prosecutors choose to “defer” prosecution in certain cases; if the defendant complies with certain conditions, after a certain period the state will drop the case altogether. Expanding this practice and making it a default for many crimes would allow many to change and abandon crime without maintaining a criminal record. All these efforts are examples of what I would call “systemic absolution.”

Because this is the first Article exploring systemic absolution, much of this Article is exploratory, conceptualizing the virtue of forgiveness in the criminal arena, and laying the theoretical backing and historical precedent for applying systemic absolution more broadly. As such, this Article does not provide any one prescription for how to execute absolution in modern society, but it does review the places where forgiveness plays a role in criminal justice and considers structural expansion. First, with forgiveness as the bedrock principle underlying systemic absolution, Part I of this Article provides a general consideration of the impact of forgiveness on individual outcomes. It also outlines the arguments in favor and against the adoption of broader systemic forgiveness in criminal law. Part II of this Article sets forth the history of communal absolution in ancient religion and society and its potential application to cleanse the societal slate of former crimes. Part III contextualizes a new theory of systemic absolution: the broadly accepted (though rarely adopted) forgiveness practices already existing with constitutional and statutory backing, including clemency, pardons, and expungements. The nature of this Article is exploratory and, while it does not provide a prescription for adopting systemic absolution, Part IV of this Article briefly considers how the justice system could consider systemic absolution in three areas: statutory sentencing relief, automatic expungement, and deferred adjudication, which might alleviate America’s endemic incarceration problem.

I. Conceptualizing Forgiveness in Criminal Justice

Forgiveness is best conceptualized as a conscious decision to give up a legitimate grievance against one who has caused harm.41See Martha Minow, Forgiveness, Law, and Justice, 103 Calif. L. Rev. 1615, 1618 (2015); Bibas, supra note 24, at 331, 334 (finding that to forgive is to undergo an “internal emotional change,” which sometimes expresses itself through action). It is less about foregoing punishment, and more about eliminating “resentment and blame.”42Minow, supra note 41, at 1618. Forgiveness has traditionally been conceptualized as an individual matter between a victim and offender, considering the victim as the only one who can forgive. Many have analyzed the relationship between criminal offenders, their victims, and their affected communities.43See, e.g., Paul Cassell, The Crime Victims’ Rights Movement: Historical Foundations, Modern Ascendancy, and Future Aspirations, 56, U. Pac. L. Rev. (forthcoming 2025). But crimes can also be conceptualized as an offense against society itself—which is why the state takes on the prosecution. Under this framework, there is also an opportunity (and responsibility) for society to forgive criminal offenders through structural change. An absolution framework can provide broader structural solutions to alleviate the incarceration crisis along with communal burdens caused by crime.

Forgiveness at the victim level has real benefits both for the offenders and the victims themselves. Admitting guilt and moving on may lighten the “burden of guilt” for offenders, helping them in the next phase of their lives.44Bibas, supra note 24, at 334. And victims are able to choose whether they let go of anger, grief, or sorrow. This can help them heal. And providing victims the choice to forgive or to not can empower them and help them regain a sense of agency after being harmed.45Minow, supra note 41, at 1618. Policies that help the offender make amends and right the wrong and give space for the victims to choose to forgive promote this principle.

While individual forgiveness is critical, a consideration that has been missing in public dialogue is how to incorporate absolution into the structure of criminal justice. The American criminal justice system, known to be overly punitive, focuses on harshly punishing a few offenders who are caught. Policies that add to a retributive paradigm—that allow a path towards absolution—help a society relinquish a legitimate grievance and choose leniency when appropriate or allow redemption after punishment. Before shifting to collective forgiveness or absolution, Part I.A. considers more carefully the definition of forgiveness as well as the impacts of individual forgiveness, including the health and physical benefits. Part I.B considers arguments in favor of and against using the principle of forgiveness in criminal justice policy.

A. Individual Forgiveness in Criminal Justice

Providing a working definition of individual forgiveness, as opposed to societal or systemic forgiveness, lays a groundwork for later exploration of systemic absolution. Forgiveness involves “letting go of negative affect and motivations toward revenge or retaliation, despite an entitlement to such feelings.”46James R. Davis & Gregg J. Gold, An Examination of Emotional Empathy, Attributions of Stability, and the Link Between Perceived Remorse and Forgiveness, 50 Personality & Individual Differences 392, 392 (2011); see also Minow, supra note 41, at 1619 (defining forgiveness as “lett[ing] go of justified resentment”); Jeffrie G. Murphy, Getting Even: Forgiveness and Its Limits 16 (Peter Ohlin ed., 2003) (defining forgiveness as overcoming, on moral grounds, the vindictive passions, such as anger, resentment, and hatred, which often arise when one has been deeply wronged by another); cf. Jonathan R. Cohen, Advising Clients to Apologize, 72 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1009, 1015 (1999) (defining forgiveness as only the cessation of resentment against the injurer but not a release from liability). The repentance of the offender often encourages forgiveness, but is not a requirement for the victim to forgive.47Murphy, supra note 46, at 35–36; Bibas, supra note 24, at 329–30 (noting that while offenders have no right to mercy, remorse and repentance make them more sympathetic candidates for it); see also Murphy, supra note 46, at 45 (noting that our criminal punishment methods are so severe and excessive as to make repentance either impossible or unlikely). For the victim, forgiveness requires forswearing revenge, moderating resentment, committing to letting go of lingering resentment, revisioning the wrongdoer, reframing one’s view of self, and communicating to the offender that forgiveness is granted.48Charles L. Griswold, Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration 174 (2007). The act of forgiveness does not necessarily make the crime go away in the victim’s eyes, but can allow them to see the perpetrator as a human and allow the victim and offender the possibility of creating a relationship.49Lerman, supra note 24, at 1663–64, 1666 (“[S]imply allowing for the opportunity to engage in the very personal informal process [of forgiveness] is a humanization of the justice process.”). While the law primarily seeks to adjudicate the past, forgiveness is forward-looking, and enlarges future possibilities.50Minow, supra note 41, at 13. Forgiveness should not be confused with acts that merely reduce animus, such as letting go, forbearance, or turning the issue over to God.51Everett L. Worthington Jr., Pietro Pietrini, Andrea J. Miller & Charlotte Van Oyen Witvliet, Forgiveness, Health, and Well-Being: A Review of Evidence for Emotional Versus Decisional Forgiveness, Dispositional Forgivingness, and Reduced Unforgiveness, 30 J. Behav. Med. 291, 292 (2007). Moreover, forgiveness is distinguishable from other responses to wrongdoing such as justification, excuse, mercy, and reconciliation.52Murphy, supra note 46, at 13. Forgiveness does not justify the conduct, does not excuse the wrongdoer as somehow not fully responsible, is more personal than mercy, and stands wholly apart from reconciliation. The distinction between systemic forgiveness and reconciliation or mercy is important. For systemic absolution of crime, there is no requirement that individual offenders are remorseful, that victim and perpetrator have reconciled, and it does not remove the role of punishment. Absolution, or forgiveness, plays a unique role in cleaning the slate for society of the burden of crime.

Studies demonstrate that individual forgiveness provides a multitude of psychological, physiological, and social benefits: reduced negative emotions, improved mental health, lower stress responses, less physical pain, and better relationships.53Stephanie Lichtenfeld, Markus A. Maier, Vanessa L. Buechner & Maria Fernández Capo, The Influence of Decisional and Emotional Forgiveness on Attributions, 10 Frontiers in Psych. 1, 2 (2019); see also Katelyn N. G. Long, Everett L. Worthington Jr, Tyler J. VanderWeele & Ying Chen, Forgiveness of Others and Subsequent Health and Well-Being in Mid-Life: A Longitudinal Study on Female Nurses, 8 BMC Psych. 1, 2, 4 (2020) (associating forgiveness with lower levels of depression, anxiety, and hostility, higher satisfaction with life, reduced substance abuse, and less self-reported physical illness symptoms); Michael E. McCullough, Lindsey M. Root, Benjamin A. Tabak & Charlotte van Oyen Witvliet, The Psychology of Forgiveness, in Oxford Handbook of Positive Psych. 427–36 (C. R. Snyder & Shane J. Lopez eds., 2d ed. 2009) (finding that forgiveness is associated with better psychological well-being and higher satisfaction with life, as well as reduced risk for substance abuse, depression, and anxiety disorders). Evidence links forgiveness to overall better physical health.54Kathleen A. Lawler, Jarred W. Younger, Rachel L. Piferi, Rebecca L. Jobe, Kimberley A. Edmondson & Warren H. Jones, The Unique Effects of Forgiveness on Health: An Exploration of Pathways, 28 J. Behav. Med. 157, 161 (2005); Kyler R. Rasmussen, Madelynn Stackhouse, Susan D. Boon, Karly Comstock & Rachel Ross, Meta-Analytic Connections Between Forgiveness and Health: The Moderating Effects of Forgiveness-Related Distinctions, 34 Psych. & Health 515, 523–27 (2019) (linking forgiveness with certain aspects of physical health, in particular improved cardiovascular health); Worthington, supra note 51, at 296 (finding lower blood pressure in those with high traits of forgiveness). Researchers believe that the physiological stress response of interpersonal conflict strains our health systems, but forgiving an offender breaks the cycle of negative thoughts and stress, thereby improving various indicators of health.55Rasmussen, supra note 54, at 516–17. Perhaps most importantly, forgiveness is associated with greater happiness.56Mustafa Ercengiz, Serdar Safali, Alican Kaya & Mehmet Emin Turan, A Hypothetic Model for Examining the Relationship Between Happiness, Forgiveness, Emotional Reactivity and Emotional Security, 42 Current Psych. 18355 (2022); Ika Wulandari & Fitria Erma Megawati, The Role of Forgiveness on Psychological Well-Being in Adolescents: A Review, 395 Advances Soc. Sci., Educ., Hum. Rsch. 99, 101 (2019). While there are clear health benefits to forgiveness, the adverse health consequences of unforgiveness may be more substantial.57Long et al., supra note 53, at 8; Ercengiz et al., supra note 56 (finding that the inability to forgive is associated with stress-related poor mental health, rumination, and depression); John F. Clabby, Forgiveness: Moving on Can Be Healthy, 55 Int’l J. Psych. Med. 123, 124 (2019) (finding physical health implications for holding on to emotional injury, such as adverse effects on the heart). But the individual harms of unforgiveness can be experienced by society, particularly within communities affected most by crime and incarceration. Moreover, while societal happiness is difficult to measure, systemic absolution might have some broader healing benefits.

B. Should Forgiveness Have a Role in Criminal Justice?

Despite the benefits of forgiveness, some scholars suggest that forgiveness may have no place in criminal law. Some believe forgiveness may be inappropriate in cases of remorseless offenders, victimless crimes, victims unwilling to forgive, or where there is disagreement among victims in multi-victim crimes.58Bibas, supra note 24, at 344. Because forgiveness cannot be forced, forgiving individual offenders may also introduce dangers of inequality and discrimination, because victims and society may be less willing to forgive people of certain races or of certain socioeconomic status.59Id. at 331; Minow, supra note 41, at 1630 (“Forgiveness risks undermining the predictability of law and the appearance or even the reality of treating like cases alike.”); but see Minow, supra note 24, at 27 (noting that forgiveness in law may create new resentments, but “resentment of an unforgiving legal system—and doubts about its legitimacy—poses risks just as severe”). Moreover, some may argue that forgiveness does not serve the traditional justifications for punishment—undercutting retribution and deterrence.60Bibas, supra note 24, at 330. Forgiveness of an offense can increase the likelihood of abuse and repetition of transgressions, for instance in domestic violence situations.61Lichtenfeld, supra note 53, at 5; Minow, supra note 24, at 134 (“[F]orgiving attitudes towards disobedience may inevitably encourage disobedience. This can be a worthy gamble, in exchange for the benefits of amnesties and related relief.”). Some feel that it is safer to err on the side of tough and inflexible punishment because the benefits from incarceration are immediate, certain, and concrete, while the benefits of forgiveness are “longer-term, squishier, and more speculative.”62Bibas, supra note 24, at 343.

On the other hand, scholars like Martha Minow have suggested that the U.S. should consider a more liberal use of “forgiveness mechanisms” in the criminal justice system.63Minow, supra note 24, at 114 (“As the nation that incarcerates more people than any other society in history the United States could do well to consider making greater use of forgiveness mechanisms, but so far the yearly ritual of a presidential Thanksgiving pardon for a live turkey has had more cultural resonance that pardons or commutations for prison inmates.”). Minow makes clear that she is not advocating for an elimination of punishment. In fact, the idea that wrongdoing deserves and requires punishment seems to be a universal and fundamental belief, accepted across history and human civilizations, and even evident in very young children and animals.64Paul H. Robinson, Criminal Law’s Core Principles, 14 Wash. U. Juris. Rev. 153, 164, 167–68 (2021) (noting that animals attack or exclude those who violate social rules). All attempts at establishing no-punishment communes have failed, or have only survived by adopting enforcement systems.65Id. at 170–71 (giving the example of Drop City commune which collapsed, and Black Bear Ranch which still survives today after adopting a coercive enforcement system). Communities absent of law, such as gold rush camps or concentration camps, typically adopted their own vigilante systems or practiced prisoner justice, exemplifying our natural inclination towards punishment.66Id. at 172. Minow acknowledges that some wrongs may seem unforgivable, and to advocate for forgiveness for genocides and murders “can seem an insult to both victims and survivors.”67Minow, supra note 24, at 161; see also Douglas B. Ammar, Forgiveness and the Law—A Redemptive Opportunity, 27 Fordham Urb. L.J. 1583, 1584 (2000) (“Forgiveness is not easy, and sometimes not possible, especially in criminal cases. Even when intentionally fostered, there is very little room for forgiveness in the court system.”). Indeed, one study found that offenders who commit high-severity crimes are perceived as unlikely to be rehabilitated.68Dena M. Gromet & John M. Darley, Punishment and Beyond: Achieving Justice Through the Satisfaction of Multiple Goals, 43 L. Soc. Rev. 1, 14 (2009) (finding that “people can be equally concerned with other justice goals [beyond punishment] if the features of the offense draw their attention to these justice goals”).

Despite these findings, Minow argues that making greater use of forgiveness mechanisms is an important part of criminal justice and can help alleviate our country’s mass incarceration problem.69Minow, supra note 24, at 114. Minow argues that lawyers and other officials “do not adequately use the tools of forgiveness” in criminal law and argues for their expansion.70Martha Minow, How Forgiveness Can Create a More Just Legal System, TED Talk (Dec. 2019), https://www.ted.com/talks/martha_minow_how_forgiveness_can_create_a_more_just_legal_system [https://perma.cc/A2W8-UPQX]. Forgiveness in criminal law could shift away from the narrow focus on a specific violator and victim to a wider lens that looks at broader patterns to increase fairness for all.71Minow, supra note 24, at 153. She advocates for potentially expanding existing practices like apology, restitution, and forbearance from the law’s most stringent demands.72Id. at 163. It might be time to reinvent criminal law as many criminal law systems have lost credibility with their communities due to their reputation for harshness73Paul H. Robinson, Mercy, Crime Control, and Moral Credibility, in Merciful Judgments and Contemporary Society: Legal Problems, Legal Possibilities 111–12 (Austin Sarat ed., 2011) (stating that cooperation from those involved in the criminal justice system is needed for it to effectively operate, and that loss of faith in the system will likely turn cooperation into “subversion and resistance”). and their uneven application of justice.74Baughman, supra note 38, at 122–27. Introducing mechanisms of forgiveness more broadly into criminal law could help combat unfairly harsh laws or overly punitive prosecutors.75Minow, supra note 24, at 25–26. Forgiveness encourages the full reintegration of a convicted person into society, alleviating the collateral consequences and stigma of conviction.76Margaret Colgate Love, Paying Their Debt to Society: Forgiveness, Redemption, and the Uniform Collateral Consequences of Conviction Act, 54 Howard L.J. 753, 753 (2011). Moreover, forgiveness may have broader benefits that allow greater healing not just for the offender or victim, but for the community in general.77Ammar, supra note 67, at 1598. Systemic absolution could create similar benefits as individual forgiveness if it were accepted into criminal practice. The dominant theory of punishment is retributivism, which includes little in the way of absolution of crime, rehabilitation, or a structural path towards clearing the slate of crime. The next Section provides background on the historical importance of individual and communal absolution to contextualize forgiveness as an important societal practice, which aids in creating a comprehensive criminal punishment theory that includes absolution.

II. Individual Forgiveness and Communal Absolution in Religious Tradition

Religious principles have always influenced criminal punishment theory.78See Mark Hill, Introduction, in Christianity and Criminal Law 1–2 (Hill et al. eds., 2020). Covenant principles79See Retributivism, Legal Info. Inst., Cornell L. Sch. (Jul. 2023), https://www.law.cornell.edu/wex/retributivism [https://perma.cc/7AS5-XZJ8]; Mark D. White, Lex Talionis, in Encyclopedia of Law and Economics 1303–04 (Alain Marciano & Giovanni Battista Ramello eds., 2019). form the roots of the leading criminal punishment theory (retributivism) and dominate criminal philosophy, criminal statutory principles, and even prison administration.80See Harold G. Grasmick, Elizabeth Davenport, Mitchell B. Chamlin & Robert J. Bursik Jr., Protestant Fundamentalism and the Retributive Doctrine of Punishment, 30 Criminology 21, 21–46 (1992); Brandon K. Applegate, Francis T. Cullen, Bonnie S. Fisher & Thomas Vander Ven, Forgiveness and Fundamentalism: Reconsidering the Relationship Between Correctional Attitudes and Religion, 38 Criminology 719, 719–21 (2000); SpearIt, Criminal Justice, in 2 Religion & Everyday Life and Culture 657–72 (Richard D. Hecht & Vincent F. Biondo eds., 2010). In simple terms, retributivism requires that a person be punished proportionately given the exact nature or harm of their crimes—a figurative eye for an eye, at least in value.81Paul H. Robinson, Shima Baradaran Baughman & Michael T. Cahill, Criminal Law: Case Studies and Controversies 76 (2021) (“The retributive (or desert-based) justification is grounded in the moral principle that wrongdoers deserve punishment.”); Id. at 82 (“[T]he amount of punishment [should] correspond[] to the degree of blameworthiness—no more, no less. The degree of an offender’s blameworthiness, in turn, depends on both the seriousness of the violation and the extent of the actor’s accountability for it.”). See also Retributivism, supra note 79; Romero, supra note 2. It is not until after an offender has been punished appropriately for their crime that they should be released.82Robinson, supra note 81; see also Retributivism, supra note 79. Criminal statutory practice and punishment are dominated by desert and punishment without an avenue for societal forgiveness or growth. The absolution theory proposed here has its roots in religious traditions that create a more unified community through cleansing society of wrongs.83Matthew 18:15–17 (King James). Restorative justice also has origins in the Torah, emphasizing repentance (teshuva), restitution and making things right with those who have been harmed. Yom Kippur is such a tradition. These principles are also in the Qur’an which teaches about resolving disputes through peaceful means and seeking forgiveness from those wronged, including restitution and compensation (diyya). See Qur’an, Surah Ash-Shura 42:40, Surah Al-Ma-idah 5:45; see also Surah Al-Baquarah 2:178. Many indigenous traditions in North America have long practiced forms of restorative justice, including communal involvement in healing and restoring balance rather than punishing offenders. See Arthur C. Parker, The Constitution of the Five Nations 7–13 (1916) (explaining the oral constitution of the Iroquois Confederacy which emphasizes resolving conflict and repairing relationships and reintegrating wrongdoers back into the community). See also Christopher Buck, Deganawida, the Peacemaker, in American Writers: A Collection of Literary Biographies 81–100 (Jay Parini ed., Supp. XXVI 2015). Maori in New Zealand, Whakawhanaungataga and Utu also reflect restorative justice values. Juan Tauri & Allison Morris, Re-Forming Justice: The Potential of Maori Processes, 30 Aust. & N.Z. J. Criminology 149, 150–51 (1997) (“Maori justice processes were based on notions that responsibility was collective rather than individual and that redress was due not just to the victim but also to the victim’s family”; “ ‘[R]estorative justice’ . . . includes many of the concepts identified earlier as key for Maori justice such as the participation of the offender [and] the victim . . . healing the damage that has been caused by the offending and restoring harmony between the offender [and] the victim . . . and decision-making through agreement rather than sanctions imposed externally.”). Restorative justice has its place and can be extremely effective when both parties are inclined towards a resolution, but this often is not the case. In many cases, one side would like to make amends, but the other side is unwilling. But since crimes are committed against society, could there be systemic absolution to restore society after harm is caused?

Forgiveness traces its roots back to influential world religions. Forgiveness considers restoring relationships after sin or crime and is a fundamental part of all major religions. These individual traditions of forgiveness provide a foundation for considering communal forgiveness or absolution as discussed in Part II.A. Then, Part II.B considers absolution in religious contexts and considers its application to criminal justice.

A. Individual Forgiveness in World Religions

There are foundational teachings about forgiveness in all the world religions, but this Section provides a very brief overview of these teachings in Christianity, Islam, Judaism, and Hinduism as they pertain to forgiving crime. This Section focuses on individual forgiveness, or receiving forgiveness from God for wrongs committed.

The concept of forgiveness might be most central to Christianity.84See Martin E. Marty, The Ethos of Christian Forgiveness, in Dimensions of Forgiveness: Psychological Research and Theological Perspectives 11 (Everett L. Worthington ed., 1998). Instances of forgiveness are plentiful in the New Testament, from the forgiveness of the adulterous woman, the prodigal son parable, the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord’s Prayer, and Jesus’s forgiveness of those who crucified Him.85Id. at 19–20. As it relates to forgiving criminal offenses, Jesus Christ specifically says to the criminal defendant hanging next to him on the cross, “[t]o day shalt thou be with me in paradise,” insinuating that forgiveness is possible even for criminals and potentially even beyond the grave.86Luke 23:43 (King James). Christian rituals, such as baptism and Holy Communion, are fundamentally rooted in individual forgiveness.87Marty, supra note 84, at 22. Christianity often urges that forgiveness must be offered unconditionally, as an act of grace, and without regard to the punishment or remorse of the offender, which may seem irreconcilable with conceptions of retributivism.88Anthony Bash, Forgiveness and Christian Ethics 59 (2007). Christian forgiveness is predicated on the unconditionality of God’s love, and this kind of unconditional forgiveness serves as an ideal in the life of the believer.89Id. at 104; but see Loren L. Toussaint, Amy D. Owen & Alyssa Cheadle, Forgive to Live: Forgiveness, Health, and Longevity, 35 J. Behav. Med. 375, 381–82 (2012) (linking the belief in God’s unconditional forgiveness to a slightly increased risk of mortality). Although Jesus preached that people should repent, Christian forgiveness requires forgiving even the unrepentant.90Bash, supra note 88, at 87. While some argue that the New Testament presents forgiveness as a desirable virtue but not a mandatory duty,91Id. at 104. forgiveness, including of crimes, is a key part of an individual’s journey to becoming more like Jesus Christ.

Islam views forgiveness as an important virtue practiced by the Prophet Mohammed that Muslims should emulate.92Mohammed Abu-Nimer & Ilham Nasser, Forgiveness in the Arab and Islamic Contexts: Between Theology and Practice, 41 J. Religious Ethics 474, 490 (2013). The Prophet Mohammad teaches by example to seek God’s forgiveness three times after completing his prayer,93Id. at 476. and he specifically asks for forgiveness for his enemies.94Id. at 478–79 (noting that the Prophet requested forgiveness for his enemies at Ta’if, forgave those who had fought against him in Makkah after his victory, and forgave a woman who had murdered his uncle). However, Islam does not advocate for unconditional or absolute forgiveness, and does not require forgiveness before justice or punitive measures are implemented.95Id. at 490. The Quran explains that divine forgiveness is possible even for serious offenses, but an offender should never take forgiveness for granted even if he expresses repentance because it is a decision for Allah.96Id. at 478. However, Islamic texts emphasize that interpersonal forgiveness is more virtuous than vengeance, even if retaliation is permissible under the circumstances.97Id. at 480; Azizah al-Hibri, The Muslim Perspective on the Clergy-Penitent Privilege, 29 Loy. L.A.L. Rev. 1723, 1728 (1996) (“Forgiveness is repeatedly described by the Qur’an as better than revenge or punishment.”). A study of the motivations to forgive among Moroccan Muslims found that their religious values were their primary motivation to forgive others.98Abu-Nimer & Nasser, supra note 92 at 487. In Islam, tawba is the repentance process,99See, e.g., Atif Khalil, Atonement, Returning, and Repentance in Islam, 14 Religions 168, 168 (2023). in which an individual feels guilt about past sins, engages in righteous acts that the sin prevented them from doing, recompenses those that they wronged, asks forgiveness of those that they wronged, resolves to avoid the sin in future, and continues in obedience to God.100Maulana Mufti Muhammad Shafi, 8 Ma’ariful Qur’an 525 (Maulana Ahmed Khalil Aziz, trans. & Muhammad Taqi Usmani, ed., 2004). The tawba is reminiscent of restorative justice principles currently in place in criminal policy, and the focus on the Prophet’s forgiveness of enemies is reminiscent of the Christian dictates to forgive all. A foundational virtue in Islam is forgiveness—though not mandated, it is highly admired if a person can forgive someone for a crime committed against them.101See Qu’ran, Surat al-Furquan, 25:68–71.

Judaism places emphasis on individual forgiveness, repentance, and atonement, and is particularly influential when it comes to retributivism, which continues to dominate criminal punishment theory.102Dorff, supra note 1, at 47. Every year, ten days are set aside between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, or Day of Atonement, to repent.103Ronald H. Isaacs, Every Person’s Guide to the High Holy Days 85 (1999). This period is called teshuva (meaning return).104See, e.g., Samuel J. Levine, Teshuva: A Look at Repentance, Forgiveness and Atonement in Jewish Law and Philosophy and American Legal Thought, 27 Fordham Urb. L.J. 1677, 1677 (2000). During this period, Jews ask forgiveness of others and engage in acts of service.105Isaacs, supra note 103, at 85. On the Day of Atonement, Jews ask God for forgiveness in prayer, sometimes in synagogue.106Id. at 190. The Mishnah, or oral Torah, recognizes that an injury to another person results in two harms: a material harm, which is rectified through monetary compensation; and a more intangible injury, which can be remedied only through seeking forgiveness.107Louis E. Newman, The Quality of Mercy: On The Duty to Forgive in the Judaic Tradition, 15 J. Religious Ethics 155, 159 (1987). In Judaism, teshuva is the process of making amends; it includes a full return to the right path, and restoration of good standing with the community and with God.108Dorff, supra note 1, at 38. The concept of return means that the sinner abandons his sin, removes it from his thoughts, resolves to not do it anymore, expresses remorse for the transgression, and makes an oral confession and apology.109Id. at 40. After the offender undergoes the process of return, the victim is required to forgive, even when the wrong can never be fully righted.110Id. at 45. The reasoning is that those who undergo the process of return (by taking responsibility for their actions, showing remorse, and seeking to make amends) deserve forgiveness. Id. at 52. A victim may choose to forgive even without the offender’s repentance but is not obligated to do so in Jewish tradition.111Id. at 46–47 (stating that if the offender never admits wrongdoing, return cannot be accomplished, and the community and victims are under no obligation to forgive); Everett L. Worthington, Jr., Don E. Davis, Joshua N. Hook, Daryl R. Van Tongeren, Aubrey L. Gartner, David J. Jennings II, Chelsea L. Greer & Todd W. Greer, Forgiveness and Religion: Update and Current Status, in A Journey Through Forgiveness 49, 51 (Malika Rebai Maamri et al. eds., 2020). Judaism does not definitively resolve the issue of whether certain individuals do not deserve forgiveness, but it does emphasize the belief that people can change for the better and must be given the opportunity to do so.112Dorff, supra note 1, at 52. The Jewish faith also includes rituals of communal absolution discussed in the next Section which will allow us to consider these principles in how they might create a more comprehensive criminal justice policy that includes not just retribution but also atonement.

Other religious traditions, Hinduism and Buddhism, include foundational teachings in forgiveness. Buddhism handles forgiveness through ritual confession.113The Routledge Handbook of the Philosophy and Psychology of Forgiveness (Glen Pettigrove & Robert Enright eds., 2023). Because the end goal of Buddhists is the cultivation of inner peace and enlightenment,114Waka Takahashi Brown, Introduction to Buddhism, Stanford Program on Int’l Cross-Cultural Educ. (Dec. 2002), https://spice.fsi.stanford.edu/docs/introduction_to_buddhism [https://perma.cc/3C5P-K3K2]. the purpose of confession and forgiveness is to develop personal virtues such as responsibility and patience.115The Routledge Handbook of the Philosophy and Psychology of Forgiveness, supra note 113. Jan Konior, Confession Rituals and the Philosophy of Forgiveness in Asian Religions and Christianity, 15 Forum Philosophicum 91, 94 (2010) (stating that the “practice of ritual confession and repentance–chanhuei 懺悔 was an essential element of Buddhist monasticism.”). Buddhism also upholds a model of forgiveness in its call to relinquish bitterness and resentments.116Marcia Webb, Sarah A. Chickering, Trina A. Colburn, Dawn Heisler & Steve Call, Religiosity and Dispositional Forgiveness, 46 Rev. Religious Rsch. 355, 357 (2005); Worthington, supra note 111 (explaining that in the strains of Buddhism that favor detachment, forgiveness is inherent in gaining an enlightened detachment). One of the six perfections of Buddhism, forbearance or patience, corresponds closely to forgiveness and represents “a virtuous response to harm brought upon oneself by the conduct of another.”117Chien-Te Lin, With or Without Repentance: A Buddhist Take on Forgiveness, 28 Ethical Perspectives 263, 266 (2021) (explaining that forbearance, Pāli: khanti or Sanskrit: kṣānt, is put forth in both Theravāda and Mahāyāna Buddhism and includes foregoing thoughts of retaliation). In the Dhammapada, the Buddha warns against hostility and advises that “[h]atred is never appeased by hatred in this world. By non-hatred alone is hatred appeased.”118The Dhammapada: The Buddha’s Path of Wisdom, ch. 1, verse 5 (Acharya Buddharakkhita trans., 1985), https://www.buddhanet.net/pdf_file/scrndhamma.pdf [https://perma.cc/RJD5-PCBS] (in the preceding verses, the Buddha cautions, “ ‘He abused me, he struck me, he overpowered me, he robbed me.’ Those who harbor such thoughts do not still their hatred.” Id. at verse 3.). Similarly, Hinduism’s sacred texts describe multiple incidents of divine forgiveness.119Webb, supra note 116, at 357. The Mahabharata, one of two Sanskrit epics revered in Hinduism, even features an important “hymn of forgiveness.”120Mahabharata Book 3: Vana Parva, Section 29 (including lines such as “Forgiveness is virtue; forgiveness is sacrifice . . . Forgiveness is Brahma; forgiveness is truth”). The scripture further recommends forgiveness (ksama in Sanskrit) as one of several “divine qualities” to which a spiritually-minded person should aspire.121Alan Hunter, Forgiveness: Hindu and Western Perspectives, 20 J. of Hindu-Christian Stud., 35, 36 (2007) (noting that Hinduism also teaches divine forgiveness and freedom from sin). Both Buddhism and Hinduism focus on the importance of forgiveness as a divine virtue to cultivate, even for those who harm you.

Christianity places the strongest emphasis on forgiveness, teaching unconditional forgiveness even in the absence of remorse and reparation.122Laura J. Lutjen, Nava R. Silton & Kevin J. Flannelly, Religion, Forgiveness, Hostility and Health: A Structural Equation Analysis, 51 J. Religion and Health 468, 469 (2012). Judaism commends forgiveness, but focuses on the conduct of the wrongdoer who must make amends to earn forgiveness.123Id. Islam commends unconditional forgiveness as virtuous, but does not require it.124Id. Buddhism and Hinduism both elevate forgiveness as a divine trait. While principles of forgiveness are important in many key world religions, the concepts of individual absolution through a neutral person, like a priest, or community absolution are found in Christianity as described below.

B. Christian Individual Absolution

To better theorize criminal punishment and absolution, a greater understanding of the religious doctrines of absolution is instructive. The word “absolution” comes from the Latin absolutus, which means to “set free,”125Absolution, Merriam-Webster Dictionary, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/absolution [https://perma.cc/LLQ4-V7MJ] (last visited Feb. 2, 2024); Absolutus, Latin Lexicon, https://latinlexicon.org/definition.php?p1=1000216 [https://perma.cc/ZT3Y-HEBN] (last visited Nov. 5, 2024). and the concept of absolution is fundamental to various Christian faiths. Absolution in the religious context involves a neutral party offering forgiveness, which is not focused between a victim and offender, or a victim and God like in many other faiths. In Catholicism, priests grant absolution, or forgiveness, to the penitent as outside observers providing forgiveness for a wrong.126The Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation, Catechism of the Catholic Church, available at: https://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG0015/__P4C.HTM [https://perma.cc/84BC-BEG7]. This concept is called the “sacrament of Penance,” one of the seven sacraments of the Catholic faith.127See Pope John Paul II, 1983 Code of Canon Law (1983). Catholics believe that, upon receiving this sacrament, they are free from mortal guilt and eternal punishment.128The Sacrament of Penance, The Catechism of the Council of Trent, available at: https://www.cin.org/users/james/ebooks/master/trent/tsacr-p.htm [https://perma.cc/7RW5-T39G]. In this process, church members confess their sins to the priest, and the priest then absolves the person from their sins “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”129The Roman Ritual: The Rite of Penance 20–21 (1975). In an absolution rite, a priest is a proxy for God allowing a person to be forgiven for a wrong.130By doing so, they conduct the “ministry of reconciliation” within the church’s members. The Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation, Catechism of the Catholic Church ¶ 1442 (1993), https://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG0015/__P4C.HTM [https://perma.cc/H4KM-PXVE]. The first step in a system of absolution involves allowing a neutral party to provide absolution—a person unaffected by the crime who assists in the atonement process.

Absolution, in the religious context, allows an individual to have wrongs removed from their life so that they can move forward, reconciled with God and their community. Part II.C defines and discusses the concept of communal absolution of sin or crime in world religions.

C. Communal Absolution in World Religions

Many world religions rely on forgiveness and mercy towards transgressors as a foundational value.131See Webb, supra note 116, at 357; Adam Fox & Trang Thomas, Impact of Religious Affiliation and Religiosity on Forgiveness, 43 Australian Psych. 175, 182 (2008) (“Abrahamic religions similarly hold forgiveness as a cornerstone in their origins, teachings and meaning systems.”). Communal absolution describes when a group of people are unburdened of crime or sin and has its roots in the world’s largest religions.132See Webb, supra note 116, at 357. This Section defines a new concept, “communal absolution,” which considers cleansing and reunification with society after a defendant is held accountable for a crime. Communal absolution—as defined here—considers crime as an act that afflicts a community and considers a societal forgiveness and letting go of the crimes that have afflicted some of its members. This is a precursor to “systemic absolution,” discussed in Parts III and IV, which is applicable to a society that has grown more complex and could serve as the modern corollary to communal absolution.133This is the working definition of communal absolution used throughout this Article. The author does not favor retributivism as a theory of punishment, nor does she provide any opinion on its merits but just recognizes that it is dominant in statutes and sentencing guides and dominates prison administration.

During the Divine Service, which is a form of Mass, members recite the Confiteor (“I confess”) and receive God’s forgiveness from the pastor. See Mark Kufahl, The Consensus of Pure Lutheran Liturgies: A Comparison and Analysis of the First German and First English Service Orders of Holy Communion in the Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod (May 1, 1995) (M.A. thesis, Concordia Seminary, St. Louis) (Scholarly Resources from Concordia Seminary). During Holy Absolution, church members meet individually with the pastor, usually only upon request, to confess their sins and ask for forgiveness. See Edwin Lehmann, The Absolution in the Theology and Practice of the Reformation, Address at the Spring Pastors’ Conference of the South Central District of the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod, at Our Savior Lutheran Church, San Antonio, TX (April. 25, 1988). Lutherans also participate in absolution before partaking of the Eucharist for the first time. Philipp Melanchthon, Apology of the Augsburg Confession (1537).
This Section considers communal absolution practices important to understanding the religio-cultural backgrounds existing for crime.

While this emphasis on individual repentance and forgiveness is highly influential in many faiths, the communal cleansing and atonement rituals that have existed in many faiths historically provide parallels for communal absolution. For instance, in the Catholic and Lutheran faiths, priests are permitted to perform “general absolution” to groups of people in emergency circumstances in which individual, private confession would be impossible.134Downes, supra note 4. This practice of general absolution is rare, but it has occurred notably in Hawaii after the area received a missile threat in 2018. Id. A Catholic priest delivered a general absolution to a group of deacons, as he believed this was the way he could best help in this time of imminent danger. Id. One of the deacons absolved during this incident said, “[i]n that moment everything changed and was made right.” Id. Although the threat turned out to be a false alarm, the group reported feeling the power of God in the room, calling it “the most powerful reconciliation ever.” Id. Similarly in the Lutheran faith, members receive individual and general absolution. Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, Vol. 77 (Church Postil III). See Lehmann, supra note 133. These, along with ancient cleansing rituals, provide the groundwork for considering communal absolution of crime today. Understanding communal absolution opens the door for creating a comprehensive criminal theory that considers reunification, or cleansing after crime.

  1. Communal Cleansing Rituals

Various ancient Near Eastern societies participated in community cleansing rituals in which freeing animals into the wilderness marked the absolution of crimes or purification of a community, as precursors for the Jewish scapegoat ritual.135Jan Bremmer, Ritual, in Ancient Religions 32, 33–35 (Sara Iles Johnson ed., 2007). The exact origins of these rituals are contested among Ancient Near Eastern scholars, but the earliest of this type of rite was likely performed in Ebla (now Syria) in the 24th century BCE.136Rashkow, supra note 4, at 85, 88–89; Ida Zatelli, The Origin of the Biblical Scapegoat Ritual: The Evidence of Two Eblaite Texts, 48 Vetus Testamentum 254 (1998). See also Jan N. Bremmer, The Ancient Near East, in The Oxford Handbook of Ancient Greek Religion 605, 610 (Esther Eidinow & Julia Kindt eds., 2015) (showing discrepancy among Ancient Near Eastern scholars by alluding to the fact that the Ebla ritual may have been the inspiration for the Israelites, rather than the Hittites, as many scholars believe); Noga Ayali-Darshan, The Origin and Meaning of the Crimson Thread in the Mishnaic Scapegoat Ritual in Light of an Ancient Syro-Anatolian Custom, 44 J. for Study Judaism 530, 532 (2013) (suggesting that both the Israelites and the Hittites “borrowed” the scapegoat ritual from a common ancestor, 24th century BC Syria); Ian Rutherford, Hittite Texts and Greek Religion: Contact, Interaction, and Comparison 131 (2020) (“Any reconstruction remains speculative without more evidence. . . .”). The Eblaite ritual took place before a wedding, when the house was purified by putting the imperfections of the home on a goat and sending it away: “We purify the mausoleum before the entrance of (the Gods) Kura and Barama. A goat, a silver bracelet (hanging from) its neck, towards the steppe of Alini we let it go.”137Rashkow, supra note 4, at 85, 88–89; Rutherford, supra note 136, at 130. Similarly, the Hittite people performed a ritual that involved sending away a ram to purify a community.138Bremmer, supra note 135, at 33–34; Rutherford, supra note 136, at 130. Like the goat that was sent away in the Eblaite ritual, here a ram was “sent away to the land of the enemies and offered to the hostile deity who caused the pestilence.”139Bremmer, supra note 135, at 34. There are several other Ancient Near Eastern societies who also performed similar rituals with animals being sent away to cleanse a community.140Noga Ayali-Darshan, The Scapegoat Ritual and Its Ancient Near Eastern Parallels, The Torah.com, https://www.thetorah.com/article/the-scapegoat-ritual-and-its-ancient-near-eastern-parallels [https://perma.cc/ZKU5-YTKQ] (last visited Jan. 20, 2025) (the Neo-Assyrians used frogs and billy goats, the Ugarits used goats); Noga Ayali-Darshan, The Origin and Meaning of the Crimson Thread in the Mishnaic Scapegoat Ritual in Light of an Ancient Syro-Anatolian Custom, 44 J. Study Judaism 530, 537 (2013); Rutherford, supra note 136, at 130.

Likely drawing from earlier societies, the ancient Israelites started performing a ritual that is described in the Bible and has come to be more commonly known as the “scapegoat” ritual. Performed in preparation for Yom Kippur, this ritual is explained in the book of Leviticus, where Aaron cast lots over two goats: one that will be sacrificed, and one that carries the sins of the community into the wilderness.141Leviticus 16:21–22 (King James) (“[T]he goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities unto a land not inhabited: and he shall let go the goat in the wilderness.”). The name Azazel is given to the goat that is sent away.142See Wright, supra note 11, at 15–74 (indicating that there is discrepancy among scholars as to the meaning of the Hebrew word Azazel); see Mary Douglas, The Go-Away Goat, in The Book of Leviticus: Composition and Reception 121, 126 (Rolf Rendtorff & Robert A. Kugler eds., 2003) (“Who or what is Azazel? The word has been disputed since antiquity.”). Rashkow, supra note 4, at 85–86 (“There is a great deal of confusion regarding the exact meaning of “Azazel.”); Timothy Gervais, An Investigation of the Scapegoat Ritual of Yom Kippur, 40 J. Theta Alpha Kappa 30, 33–34 (2016) (“The term [Azazel] itself is a noun of unknown etymological origins, but four major interpretations of its meaning have been proposed.”). To transfer the sins, Aaron laid his hands on the goat’s head and “transfer[red] the transgressions of the Israelites to it,” so the Israelites could “openly and honestly hav[e] the goat remove their[] [sins].”143Carmichael, supra note 10, at 174. The Azazel goat was then led to a desolate part of the wilderness, which marked the absolution of “crimes and sins.”144Wright, supra note 11, at 18. The goat served as a “medium of atonement . . . and forgiveness” when performed by the Israelites.145Douglas, supra note 142, at 131. See also Rashkow, supra note 4, at 85, 86 (“The scapegoat . . . has a specific function: to remove the contamination caused by the intentional sins of the Israelites from the tabernacle complex by physically carrying it all into the wilderness.”). While important for many years, the scapegoat rituals lost significance in Jewish practice in 70 CE.146Rashkow, supra note 4, at 88. However, these absolution concepts transformed into individual forgiveness through prayer and personal repentance associated with Yom Kippur.147Id. at 88–89 (“With the destruction of the Second Temple and the cessation of the sacrificial system, prayer and repentance became the focus and the Temple ritual was recounted as part of the Yom Kippur liturgy. The liturgy now fully replaced sacrifices . . . [b]y virtue of the entire community’s prayers and fasting, the day of Yom Kippur itself takes the place of the Temple sacrifices and has the power to expiate sins and provide a proverbial ‘clean slate.’ ”).

Other societies also adopted and modified forms of the Hittite, Eblaite, and Jewish rituals, but sent away humans instead. For example, the Ancient Greeks adopted a similar form of the Hittite ritual using human sacrifices called pharmakos rather than animals.148Bremmer, supra note 135, at 33–35. For the Greeks, the “scape-person” represented the “evil that is being expelled.”149Douglas, supra note 142, at 122. See Rutherford, supra note 136, at 135–36. However, the Greek pharmakos ritual was performed for the purpose of stopping plagues, not absolving sins.150Bremmer, supra note 135, at 33–35. The scapegoat rituals also influenced the ancient Romans, who had a ritual in which army “commander[s] could offer a common soldier to die for all.”151Id. at 36. Like the Greek pharmakos ritual, the Roman ritual sacrificed humans instead of animals. While for different purposes, the Jewish ritual demonstrates the far-reaching, long-lasting effect of these rites in which communities can be cleansed by letting something go.152Id. Communal absolution practices found in Jewish, Greek, and other ancient societies provide important examples for how a society can cleanse itself from crime. The next Section discusses the change from ritual absolution to a year of absolution in which all wrongs, crimes, and debts were eliminated every fifty years.

  1. Periodic Absolution Practices

Another influential practice, jubilee, is interesting to consider for modern criminal purposes. Serving as another communal absolution ritual, it underscores the importance of community cleansing of crime and sin in a periodic manner.

The Jubilee year represents how the forgiveness and cleansing of past wrongs permeate community ideals. The Jubilee year, which is outlined in Leviticus 25, demonstrates the role for which forgiveness began with Israelites and has since been adopted by Christians. Leviticus 25 instructed the Israelites to observe practices that marked a time when injustice was corrected and justice reestablished.153See A Jubilee Call for Debt Forgiveness, supra note 4 (stating that the Jubilee year was “a fresh start for the poor, an opportunity to reestablish justice and equity”). Jubilee consisted of slave release, debt release, restoration of land to original owners, and other restoring practices; it took place every fifty years.154Robert Gnuse, Jubilee Legislation in Leviticus: Israel’s Vision of Social Reform, 15 Biblical Theology Bulletin 43, 43 (1985). In releasing slaves and debtors and restoring land, the Jubilee “sought to be an institution of sweeping social reform” for the Israelites.155Id. at 48. It is unclear whether the Ancient Israelites actually ever put the ideas of the Jubilee year into practice, but the message of forgiveness the Jubilee year carries nonetheless impacted their society,156John Sietze Bergsma, The Jubilee from Leviticus to Qumran: A History of Interpretation 1 (2007) (“The most frequently asked question is invariably whether the jubilee was actually observed in ancient Israel. Unfortunately, neither the biblical nor the archeological data enables us to give a definitive answer to that question.”). Id. at 2 (“It was intended as earnest legislation reflecting the values and structures of pre-monarchic tribal Israel, regardless of the extant to which it was practiced or enforced.”). and has spread in Christianity as a practice still common among Christians.157Herbert Thurston, Holy Year of Jubilee, in 8 Catholic Encyc. 532–34 (Charles G. Herbermann et al. eds., 1910). The Jubilee year serves as a model in considering periodic release of injustices and public wrongs to create a more just society. As a criminal corollary, considering a release of criminal records or adjustment of criminal sentences provides a modern application to these principles that have had import in various ancient contexts.

The idea of communal absolution played a fundamental role in ancient Israel and provided a bedrock foundation for Greek and Roman civilizations. These ancient practices also influenced early American history, providing further support for considering systemic absolution in modern criminal justice.

  1. Communal Absolution in American History

Communal absolution, or atonement rituals like the scapegoat and pharmakos ritual, have corollaries in American history. Group absolution rituals manifest in early colonial culture in several ways. Scholars have stipulated that prosecution of colonial “witches” in the eighteenth century “function[ed] . . . as a scapegoat ritual that served to rid the community of undesirable elements.”158Michael Clark, “Like Images Made Black with the Lightning”: Discourse and the Body in Colonial Witchcraft, 34 Eighteenth Century, 199, 207–08 (1993). Like the goat that was exiled from the Israelite community to purify and remove sin, here witches were also removed from early American colonial communities with the hope that the community would be purified. The scapegoat ritual has also served as an archetype in early American literature, with many prominent authors, including Mark Twain and William Faulkner “indicat[ing] varying attitudes toward and understanding of sacrificing a victim to banish guilt.”159Nelson R. Burr, New Eden & New Babylon: Religious Thoughts of American Authors: A Bibliography, 54 Hist. Mag. Protestant Episcopal Church 151, 170 (1985). Even the Thanksgiving turkey has been argued to serve as America’s symbol of a scapegoat.160Karen Davis, The Thanksgiving Turkey as Ritual Scapegoat in the Carnivalesque Tradition, Animals 24-7 (Nov. 17, 2018), https://www.animals24-7.org/2018/11/17/the-thanksgiving-turkey-as-ritual-scapegoat [https://perma.cc/F45G-NB6B]; Karen Davis, The Thanksgiving Turkey in America as Ritual Scapegoat in the American Tradition of Sacrifice and Protest, Presentation at the Ninth Annual Conference on Holidays, Ritual, Festival, Celebration, and Public Display (June 1, 2005), https://www.upc-online.org/turkeys/60105bowlinggreen.htm [https://perma.cc/D32W-8BPB]. Dr. Karen Davis, president of United Poultry Concerns, explains how when we kill and eat turkeys on Thanksgiving, they “function[] as . . . bearer[s] of impious sentiments,” just like the scapegoat bore the Israelites’ impurities and sins.161Davis, The Thanksgiving Turkey as Ritual Scapegoat in the Carnivalesque Tradition, supra note 160. See also Karen Davis, More Than a Meal: The Turkey in History, Myth, Ritual, and Reality 14 (2001) (asserting that the presidential pardon of the Thanksgiving turkey bears connections to the scapegoat ritual). Davis and others have connected the yearly presidential pardoning of a Thanksgiving turkey to the Israelite tradition, calling the pardon an “inverted scapegoat ritual,”162Davis, supra note 161, at 89. in which “[t]he pardon therefore performs the same basic function as the scapegoating ritual . . . although instead of one special victim being scapegoated, every animal except for one special non-victim is scapegoated.”163Cynthia L. Haven, Have a Scapegoat for Thanksgiving! “It’s a Ritual Sacrifice, with Pie.” Stanford Book Haven (Nov. 20, 2018), https://bookhaven.stanford.edu/2015/11/have-a-scapegoat-for-thanksgiving [https://perma.cc/VW4W-AQ8T]. Communal absolution, like the scapegoat ritual, provides the framework for modern criminal justice to embrace forgiveness of crimes.

Criminal absolution considers a communal forgiveness for offenders who collectively, as society determines, are set free from their past crimes and are permitted to rejoin society with similar rights as other citizens (after they have been properly held accountable). Communal absolution, or group cleansing of past wrongs, has corollaries in U.S. and world history and has the potential to transform our criminal justice system. Before introducing the concept of systemic absolution in criminal practice, the next Section considers the underutilized forms of absolution already existing in a punitive U.S. criminal justice system, though not recognized as such.

III.  Forms of Absolution Existing in Criminal Justice

The American criminal justice system is overly punitive with little opportunity to remove the permanent stain of crime.164Deborah L. Rhode, Character in Criminal Justice Proceedings: Rethinking Its Role in Rules Governing Evidence, Punishment, Prosecutors, and Parole, 45 Am. J. Crim. L. 353, 368 (2019). The United States incarceration rate is about “five times higher than the rest of the world.”165Id. The roughly 2.3 million people incarcerated in American jails and prisons cost the state about $80 billion a year.166Greg Berman & Julian Adler, Start Here: A Road Map to Reducing Mass Incarceration 3 (2018); Michal D. McLauglin, Carrie Pettus-Davis, Derek Brown, Chris Veeh & Tanya Renn, The Economic Burden of Incarceration in the U.S. (Institute for Advancing Justice Research and Innovation, Washington University in St. Louis, Working Paper No. AJI072016, 2016), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/scans/iajre/the_economic_burden_of_incarceration_in_the_us.pdf; Jed S. Rakoff, Mass Incarceration: The Silence of the Judges, N.Y. Rev. Books (May 21, 2015), https://www.nybooks.com/articles/2015/05/21/mass-incarceration-silence-judges [https://perma.cc/3JN8-VZJR]. Scholars have increasingly argued that the “main driver of [this] mass incarceration” is not the imprisonment of drug and other nonviolent offenders, but the “over-sentencing of people for serious and violent crimes.”167Joseph R. Dole, II, Disinfecting the Criminal Legal System of Punitive Deterrence, 17 DePaul J. Soc. Just. 1, 2 (2023); see, e.g., Pfaff, supra note 36, at 11; Marie Gottschalk, Caught: The Prison State and the Lockdown of American Politics 167 (2015); Katherine Beckett, Ending Mass Incarceration: Why It Persists and How to Achieve Meaningful Reform 94–96 (2022). Indeed, much of the “prison boom” of the latter 20th century can be traced back to increasingly punitive sentencing.168See Derek Neal & Armin Rick, The Prison Boom and Sentencing Policy, 45 J. Legal Stud. 1, 14 (2016). There is not one culprit or crime, but instead a “broad shift toward more punitive treatment for offenders in every major crime category,” both state and federal.169Id. at 38. And while Americans’ societal attitudes toward crime are more punitive than some Western democracies, the country still has significantly longer sentencing than countries that are culturally similar.170Matthew B. Kugler, Friederike Funk, Judith Braun, Mario Gollwitzer, Aaron C. Kay & John M. Darley, Differences in Punitiveness Across Three Cultures: A Test of American Exceptionalism in Justice Attitudes, 103 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 1071, 1104 (2013) (finding that the U.S. is much more punitive than Canada even though the two countries are culturally similar).

There are existing forms of forgiveness in criminal justice, though they have not been articulated as such or relied upon extensively. In creating a more comprehensive punishment theory, there should be consideration of absolution after retribution, restorative justice, or incapacitation. This Section lays the groundwork for what already exists. The most common forms of absolution in criminal justice include sentencing and charging reduction efforts, expungement, and clemency. Part III.A discusses sentencing and charging reduction efforts including specific charging measures, deferred prosecution in Part III.A.1 and III.A.2, and safeguarding judicial discretion. Part III.B.1 and III.B.2 discuss automatic expungement through clean slate legislation. Finally, Part III.C discusses clemency and pardons. While these latter types of absolution have not been implemented broadly or institutionally, they demonstrate constitutional and statutory precedent for forgiveness in criminal justice and provide a place for broader implementation of systemic absolution in our system. Each type of absolution is discussed below as it currently exists with some considerations on how it can be expanded to systemic absolution.

A. Sentencing and Charging Revision

Sentencing and charging revision provide the largest-scale impact for systemic absolution. Regularly reassessing punitive measures enables society to move past transgressions, fostering unity and healing. In reevaluating sentencing and charging practices, it is important to recognize that punitive sentencing is a recent development in federal and state legislation over the past forty years.171Neal & Rick, supra note 168, at 1–3 fig. 1, 38 (these changes largely started in the late 1970s but really exacerbated during the 1990s).

The criminal justice system currently uses sentencing and charging revisions to offer some measure of absolution to convicted individuals, though they are not articulated as such. Three programs—second look resentencing, deferred adjudication, and restoring judicial discretion—are discussed in greater detail below. Second look laws resentence offenders based on age, type of crime, or behavior in prison. Deferred adjudication is a common practice in some jurisdictions that allows prosecutors to delay or suspend a criminal case—usually for first-time or low-risk offenders—with the understanding that the charges will be dismissed if the individual avoids reoffending. In essence, it serves as a form of conditional forgiveness for those whose prosecution would not meaningfully serve justice. When used systematically, deferred adjudication enables prosecutors to postpone cases where formal charges are unnecessary to achieve a fair or effective outcome. Finally, restoring judicial discretion by eliminating mandatory minimum sentencing laws or determinate sentencing could reduce automated punitiveness and allow individuals to receive individualized sentences and allow for rehabilitation or change in prison. These three approaches provide systemic shifts towards absolution in criminal justice and are discussed in order below.

  1. Second Look Resentencing

Expanding second look resentencing is one approach to expanding systemic absolution. Current criminal practice limits a second look at sentencing to cases with extraordinary and compelling reasons, but a true categorical second look provision would allow automatic periodic review after a certain period—such as after five years of imprisonment—where all prisoners would receive an opportunity to evaluate their sentences. Expanding second look resentencing requires an indeterminate sentencing system, discussed in Part III.A.3, in which sentences could be reduced based on rehabilitation and progress made by the inmate behind bars. Shon Hopwood urges that a second look provision should include all offenders, including those convicted of violent crimes and sex offenses because the best incentive to participate in recidivism-reducing programs172Recidivism is “the tendency for an offender to engage in repeated criminal behavior. This usually refers to the condition of being convicted for a crime, serving the sentence, and then committing another crime that results in a new conviction and sentence.” Recidivism, Legal Info. Inst., Cornell L. Sch. (Aug. 2023) https://www.law.cornell.edu/wex/recidivism [https://perma.cc/K7CH-YL2Z]. such as behavioral therapy, is the incentive of early release, in addition to the fact that such programs have been very successful with low recidivism rates.

In many cases, it is difficult to identify which defendants have the capacity for rehabilitation and redemption at the sentencing stage, so the justice system needs an avenue for decisionmakers to take a second look at individual cases.173Shon Hopwood, Second Looks & Second Chances, 41 Cardozo L. Rev. 83, 89 (2019). Second look laws provide a way to reduce the sentences of those who received excessively punitive punishments or who have demonstrated rehabilitation.174Id. at 89–90, 94; see also Shirin Bakhshay, The Dissociative Theory of Punishment, 111 Geo. L.J. 1251, 1304 (2023) (defining second look resentencing as laws that “allow for judges to revisit a sentence after a substantial amount of time has been served and reduce that sentence based on the individual’s conduct in prison and the demands of justice”). Moreover, second look resentencing can lower the chances of recidivism, ameliorate race-based sentencing disparities, and alleviate harm to family members.175Hopwood, supra note 173, at 93–96. It can also provide a systemic way to reduce prison populations and the financial costs of incarceration.176Steven Zeidman, Draft “Second Look” Resolution for the ABA 1, 9 (Dec. 8, 2021) (draft resolution) (on file with author). Sara Cohbra & Becky Feldman, The Second Look Movement: An Assessment of the Nation’s Sentence Review Laws, Sent’g Project (August 27, 2025), https://www.sentencingproject.org/reports/the-second-look-movement-a-review-of-the-nations-sentence-review-laws [https://perma.cc/LUT5-LN5P]. For the offender, resentencing also provides a sense of redemption and a recognition of their efforts towards rehabilitation.177See Bakhshay, supra note 174. Second look resentencing recognizes, values, and encourages absolution and

transformation, and has vast support from faith communities—who can be integral in motivating change from inside prisons.178Zeidman, supra note 176, at 9.

Second look resentencing can provide systemic absolution, without harm to public safety, when conducted with consideration of empirical data on crime and punishment. First, studies show that long sentences do not deter crime, but rather it is the certainty of punishment which most effectively deters crime.179Id. (noting also that ten years of imprisonment is more than sufficient for effective deterrence). Moreover, offenders tend to age out of crime, as research indicates that even among chronic offenders, most will cease committing crimes by their forties.180Shima Baradaran & Frank L. McIntyre, Predicting Violence, 90 Tex. L. Rev. 497, 522–23, 535 (2012). See From Youth Justice Involvement to Young Adult Offending, Nat’l Inst. Just. (Mar. 10, 2014), https://nij.ojp.gov/topics/articles/youth-justice-involvement-young-adult-offending#age [https://perma.cc/5CCY-FSSF] (showing that likelihood to commit crime decreases dramatically in older age); Aging Populations in Jails and Prisons, N.Y.C. Council (last visited Oct. 18, 2025), https://council.nyc.gov/data/justice-in-aging [https://perma.cc/KX9Z-PPPX] (“As a response to criminal behavior, extreme prison sentences are inconsistent with scientific findings which have shown people “age out of crime” by the time they reach their 40s.”) (Nationwide, 43.3% of all released individuals recidivate within three years, while only 7% of those aged 50-64 and 4% over 65 return to prison for new convictions—the lowest rates among all incarcerated age demographics); U.S. Sent’g Comm’n, The Effects of Aging on Recividism Among Federal Offenders 3 (2017) https://www.ussc.gov/sites/default/files/pdf/research-and-publications/research-publications/2017/20171207_Recidivism-Age.pdf (“Older offenders were substantially less likely than younger offenders to recidivate following release. Over an eight-year follow-up period, 13.4 percent of offenders age 65 or older at the time of release were rearrested compared to 67.6 percent of offenders younger than age 21 at the time of release. The pattern was consistent across age groupings, and recidivism measured by rearrest, reconviction, and reincarceration declined as age increased.”). This remains true for those convicted of violent crimes, including homicide; in fact, violent offenders who are older at release tend to have lower recidivism rates relative to other offenders.181J. J. Prescott, Benjamin Pyle & Sonja B. Starr, Understanding Violent-Crime Recidivism, 95 Notre Dame L. Rev. 1643, 1675–82 (2020); Zeidman, supra note 176, at 9. For these reasons, those serving long prison sentences, older offenders, and even violent offenders should be considered for periodic resentencing.182Zeidman, supra note 176, at 9. Excluding violent offenders from second look sentencing programs eliminates the majority of the prison population from access to these programs. Currently, nine states—California, Colorado, Connecticut, Illinois, Louisiana, Minnesota, New Mexico, Oregon, and Washington—and D.C. have enacted second look laws.183Alice Galley, Hillary Blout, May Lim & Jessie Harney, Data Automation and Expanding Resentencing Efforts, Urb. Inst. (Oct. 19, 2023), https://www.urban.org/catalyst-grant-program-insights/data-automation-and-expanding-resentencing-efforts [https://perma.cc/TPC9-XFP3]; see Cal. Penal Code § 1170.91 (West 2023); Cal. Penal Code § 1172.1 (West 2024); Colo. R. Crim. P. 35, Conn. Gen. Stat. Ann. § 53a-39 (West 2023); 725 Ill. Comp. Stat. 5/122-9 (2022); La. Stat. Ann. § 15:574.4 (2025) (allowing juvenile offenders who have served more than thirty years to receive parole, even if they were given a life sentence); Minn. Stat. Ann. § 609.133 (West 2024); S.B. 64, 56th Leg., 1st Sess. (N.M. 2023); S.B. 1008, 80th Leg., Reg. Sess. (Or. 2019); Or. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 137.218 (West 2022); Wash. Rev. Code Ann. § 36.27.130 (West 2020); D.C. Code Ann. § 24-403.03 (West 2021). Second look laws authorize judges to revisit long sentences after substantial time served and reduce them when the person no longer poses a risk or when the punishment is out of step with current sentencing standards.184Cohbra, supra note 176. At the moment, thirty-seven states have pending legislation to reduce overly long sentences.185Cohbra, supra note 176 Many states have passed legislation that sentences between 40 and 120 years are unconstitutional and thus the trend is moving towards change in this area.186People v. Stovall, 987 N.W.2d 85, 94 (Mich. 2022) (holding that sentencing juvenile to life without parole was unconstitutional); State v. Comer, 266 A.3d 374 (N.J. 2022) (holding that sentencing juvenile to fifty-seven years constituted cruel and unusual punishment); People v. Contreras, 411 P.3d 445, 446 (Cal. 2018) (finding that a juvenile’s sentencing of more than fifty years to life violated the Eighth Amendment, not allowing juveniles to showcase moral maturity); Casiano v. Comm’r of Corr., 115 A.3d 1031, 1046 (Conn. 2015) (finding that sentencing juvenile to fifty years without parole is a life sentence and results in little opportunities and amplified health complications). Broader adoption of state laws that prohibit sentences beyond forty years and adjusting state sentencing schemes towards indeterminate sentences that allow for adjustment after five or ten years provide incentives for individual rehabilitation and allow for periodic adjustment of sentences in systemic absolution. Federal legislation, like the First Step Act of 2018, has also worked to reduce federal prison populations through reducing sentences for those with good behavior in prison.187An Overview of the First Step Act, Fed. Bureau Prisons, https://www.bop.gov/inmates/fsa/overview.jsp [https://perma.cc/YN8L-9HPY]; see also 18 U.S.C. § 3624(b); First Step Act of 2018, Pub. L. No. 115-391, 132 Stat. 5194 (2018). Also, analysis on the First Step Act, six years after its implementation, has shown that inmates released under the Act showed lower recidivism rates and served less time than those released before the Act was passed.188See Avinash Bhati, First Step Act: An Early Analysis of Recidivism, Council on Crim. Just. (Dec. 2024), https://counciloncj.foleon.com/first-step-act/fsa [https://perma.cc/Y3YQ-8C83] (“[T]he recidivism rate for people released under the FSA is roughly 55% lower than similarly situated people released prior to the FSA.”); Avinash Bhati, Time Sentenced and Time Served: Exploring the Impact of the First Step Act, Council on Crim. Just. (Dec. 2024), https://counciloncj.foleon.com/first-step-act/fsa/2024-impact-on-time-served [https://perma.cc/2P8V-RU46] (“People released under the FSA in 2023 served 7.6% less of their imposed prison term than similarly situated people released prior to the FSA.”). Other legislation has allowed federal judges to reduce drug sentences when appropriate and depart from federal guidelines.189Sentencing Reform and Corrections Act of 2015, S.2123, 114th Cong. (2015).

Reconsidering the terms of sentences periodically after their initial imposition and eliminating indeterminate sentencing practices are both ways to allow for systemic absolution of crime. While recognizing the importance

of criminal accountability and punishment, these changes recognize that people can change and that cultural shifts might allow many sentences to be reduced to remove the societal burden of incarceration.

  1. Deferred Adjudication

Deferred adjudication provides another avenue whereby defendants may have their sentences diverted and thus receive absolution from the criminal justice system.190Id. Deferred prosecution agreements (“DPAs”) enable a defendant to avoid prosecution, maintain a clean record, and move towards rehabilitation.191Shima Baradaran Baughman, Prosecution Deferred, 77 Fla. L. Rev. 1139 (2025); United States v. Saena Tech Corp., 140 F.Supp.3d 11, 12–13 (D.D.C. 2015); 1 Michael Clark, Corporate Criminal Liability, § 1:7 (3d. ed. 2024); Benjamin M. Greenblum, What Happens to a Prosecution Deferred? Judicial Oversight of Corporate Deferred Prosecution Agreements, 105 Colum. L. Rev. 1863, 1863 (2005) (noting that deferred prosecution agreements provide an alternative disposition for juvenile and drug offenders that help them rehabilitate more effectively). See also Frederick T. Davis, Judicial Review of Deferred Prosecution Agreements: A Comparative Study, 60 Colum. J. Transnat’l L. 751, 755 (2022)). When making a DPA, a prosecutor delays criminal charges and instead sets conditions for the defendant to follow under the government’s supervision.192Baughman, supra note 191. Defendants are not prosecuted unless they fail to comply with the conditions set forth. Similar to DPAs, a deferred sentence offers a defendant probation instead of conviction if they complete certain steps toward rehabilitation.193Id. However, the defendant must first plead guilty, and that plea will remain on their record.194Id. These alternatives to prosecution shift the focus from punishment to rehabilitation and spare defendants the often-debilitating collateral consequences of conviction.195Id. Indeed, many individuals who have been convicted experience unemployment, exclusion from society, and a tarnished reputation and communities suffer with families separated.196Id.

Not only does broadening deferred adjudication help create systemic absolution, but it may also benefit the public by lowering recidivism rates. Some studies have shown that offenders receiving suspended sentences or probation are less likely, or at least not more likely, to reoffend than those who are sentenced to prison.197Cassia Spohn & David Holleran, The Effect of Imprisonment on Recidivism Rates of Felony Offenders: A Focus on Drug Offenders, 40 Criminology 329, 329 (2002); David J. Harding, Jeffrey D. Morenoff, Anh P. Nguyen & Shawn D. Bushway, Short- and Long-Term Effects of Imprisonment on Future Felony Convictions and Prison Admissions, 114 PNAS 11103, 11105–06 (2017) (finding that, when compared with probation, incarceration increased the chances of an individual reentering the prison system within five years of release by ten to fourteen percent, and that prison, rather than probation, “had no effect on conviction for any new felony,” and concluding that “a prison sentence does little to reduce criminal offending after release relative to offending by probationers”); Rohan Lulham, Don Weatherburn & Lorana Bartels, The Recidivism of Offenders Given Suspended Sentences: A Comparison with Full-Time Imprisonment, 136 Contemp. Issues Crime & Just. 1, 7 (2009) (noting that those who receive a suspended sentence were not more likely to reoffend than defendants sentenced to prison); David J. Harding, Jeffrey D. Morenoff, Anh P. Nguyen, Shawn D. Bushway & Ingrid A. Binswanger, A Natural Experiment Study of the Effects of Imprisonment on Violence in the Community, 3 Nature Hum. Behav. 671, 671 (2019) (finding that prison, rather than probation, “had no significant effects on arrests or convictions for violent crimes after release from prison” for felons, and concluding that “imprisonment is an ineffective long-term intervention for violence prevention, as it has, on balance, no rehabilitative or deterrent effects after release”). Additionally, DPAs and deferred sentences are far more cost-effective than confinement.198The Public Costs of Supervision Versus Detention, U.S. Courts (Jun. 5, 2025), https://www.uscourts.gov/data-news/judiciary-news/2025/06/05/public-costs-supervision-versus-detention [https://perma.cc/6PSS-YGHY] (“In fiscal year 2024, detaining a person before trial and then incarcerating them post-conviction was roughly 10 times more costly than supervising an individual in the community.”). All fifty states have codified DPAs in some capacity, although most states place limits on the type of defendant and offense to which they can be applied.199Baughman, supra note 191, at 1159–60 (“Many states limit the use of DPAs based on a variety of factors, including the extent to which the crime is violent, the defendant’s criminal history, whether the defendant suffers from a behavioral health disorder, whether the defendant is a veteran, or whether the defendant is an adult or a juvenile. Other states limit the use of DPAs to certain kinds of cases, such as criminal fraud cases, misdemeanor cases, and cases that are not domestic violence misdemeanors.”). Despite the many benefits of DPAs, research demonstrates that they are still used in less than a quarter of cases and could be a useful way to increase systemic absolution.200Id. at 1169 (finding that in a study of 541 state and local prosecutors, “[j]ust fifteen percent . . . would have offered some sort of deferred prosecution” in response to a fact pattern of a low-level street crime committed by a first-time offender. In that same study, fewer than two percent of the prosecutors indicated they would decline to bring charges, eighty-three percent would have charged disorderly conduct, and thirty-seven percent would have charged assault); see also Christopher Robertson, Shima Baradaran Baughman & Megan S. Wright, Race and Class: A Randomized Experiment with Prosecutors, 16 J. Empirical Legal Stud. 807, 807 (2019). Currently, prosecutors must justify declining to prosecute a case rather than bringing charges. This assumption could be reversed,201Cynthia Alkon, Bargaining Without Bias, 73 Rutgers Univ. L. Rev. 1337, 1351–52 (2021). and deferred prosecution could be employed as the default for crimes that do not pose a threat to public safety, or where other options exist for holding criminal defendants accountable, such as mental health or drug rehabilitation. With broader use, deferred adjudication could serve a crucial role in curbing mass incarceration and offering absolution with a second chance.

  1. Safeguarding Judicial Discretion

In the last fifty years, sentencing changes were made intending to make punishments both more severe and less determinate, and less subject to judicial discretion.202See Neal & Rick, supra note 168, at 1–3 fig. 1. This provided judges and parole boards with less control and fewer opportunities for rehabilitation to reduce sentences.203Id. at 2. In 2005, the Supreme Court found removing judicial discretion in criminal sentencing to be unconstitutional. See United States v. Booker, 543 U.S. 220, 249–50 (2005). The removal of judicial discretion also removes opportunities for forgiveness by justice system actors where appropriate, with periodic lowering of sentences or individual reevaluation of sentences that may be too harsh. A major consideration in creating room for absolution is a shift toward indeterminate sentencing, allowing judges and public executives the opportunity to adjust sentences where appropriate. Another approach could be eliminating mandatory minimum sentences.

Some criminal actions have mandatory minimum sentences that judges must impose on convicted individuals. For example, Aguilera-Mederos was a truck driver who lost control of his truck on a Colorado highway, resulting in the death of four people.204Kevin Davis, Runaway Sentences: Truck Driver’s 110-Year Sentence Sparks New Focus on Mandatory Minimums, ABA J. (Oct. 1, 2022), https://www.abajournal.com/magazine/article/runaway-sentences [https://perma.cc/9JP6-E7ZZ]. While some of his actions may have been reckless, the crash was unintentional and Aguilera-Mederos was repentant, begged for forgiveness, and complied fully with police.205Id. Because of the mandatory minimums required by law, the judge reluctantly handed down the required sentence of 110 years in prison.206Id. In Aguilera-Mederos’ case, the governor commuted his sentence to ten years, recognizing the injustice of the long sentence.207Id. However, convicted persons cannot rely on a rare pardon. The ABA has long opposed mandatory minimum sentencing and has urged Congress, as well as state and territorial legislatures, to repeal laws requiring minimum sentences.208Id. Although mandatory minimums were an attempt to address inequities, they now seem to be the source of punitiveness and an unnecessary enhancer of mass incarceration.209Id. Eliminating mandatory minimum sentences would improve fairness in sentencing as well as systemic forgiveness for many who are punished harshly in the criminal justice system. Federally, the Smarter Sentencing Act has been proposed several times, including as recently as 2023, to eliminate mandatory minimums for federal drug sentences.210Smarter Sentencing Act of 2023, S.1152, 118th Cong. (2023). This bill reduces minimum sentences for “(1) individuals who manufacture, distribute, or possess with intent to distribute a controlled substance; and (2) couriers who import or export a controlled substance” and includes recording requirements for the DOJ and federal agencies for drug-related offenses. All Information (Except Text) for S.1152–Smarter Sentencing Act of 2023, Libr. Cong. (last visited Sept. 28, 2025), https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/1152/all-info. Allowing judicial discretion and removing legislative hurdles and determinate sentencing would increase the potential for systemic forgiveness in the criminal justice system.

B. Automatic Expungement

Nearly one out of every three American adults has a criminal record, and nearly half of American children have a parent with a criminal record.211Kristen E. Skrajewski, The Connecticut Clean Slate Law, 55 Conn. L. Rev. 707, 709 (2023) (citing Rebecca Vallas et al., Ctr. For Am. Progress, Removing Barriers to Opportunity for Parents With Criminal Records and Their Children: A Two-Generation Approach 1, 27 (2015), http://www.americanprogress.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/12/CriminalRecords-report2.pdf [https://perma.cc/E9T5-U9QK]). The overwhelming majority of these individuals have never been imprisoned.212See Terry-Ann Craigie, Ames Grawert & Cameron Kimble , Brennan Ctr. for Just., Conviction, Imprisonment, and Lost Earnings: How Involvement with the Criminal Justice System Deepens Inequality 10–12 (2020). Yet, they often suffer the consequences of carrying a criminal record for the entirety of their lives.213Jonathan Simon, Losing Our Punitive Civic Religion, in Excessive Punishment: How the Justice System Creates Mass Incarceration 21 (Lauren-Brooke Eisen ed., 2024) (“The appeal of accountability, of paying a debt to society, is supposed to be reintegration[,] in reality, it has usually meant the opposite—sanctions into perpetuity.”). The traditional option for relief, expungement or sealing of records, is far from accessible.214See generally, J. J. Prescott & Sonja B. Starr, Expungement of Criminal Convictions: An Empirical Study, 133 Harv. L. Rev. 2460 (2020). Studies show that expungement both has positive real, measurable effects and is heavily underutilized.215Id. In fact, the authors of one recent study suggest that only 6.5% of individuals receive expungements within five years of becoming eligible.216Id. at 2489. Many factors contribute to this low usage, chief among them perceived ineligibility, administrative hassle, monetary costs, and lack of information.217Id.; Matthew Friedman, Just Facts: As Many Americans Have Criminal Records as College Diplomas, Brennan Ctr. for Just. (Nov. 17, 2015), https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/just-facts-many-americans-have-criminal-records-college-diplomas [https://perma.cc/WW7E-NKUL]; David McElhattan, Punitive Ambiguity: State-Level Criminal Record Data Quality in the Era of Widespread Background Screening, 24 Punishment & Soc’y 367 (2022) (criminal record data is often ambiguous and incomplete). See J. J. Prescott & Sonja Star, The Power of a Clean Slate, CATO Inst. (2020), https://www.cato.org/regulation/summer-2020/power-clean-slate [https://perma.cc/5QUH-W2GP]. Thus, even individuals that legislatures have already deemed worthy of forgiveness often still do not obtain clean records.

Expungement allows a clearing of a criminal slate, and with analogy to bankruptcy can parallel ancient scapegoat rituals in clearing the societal criminal slate of debt and crime. A broader pact of expungement among states or a federal expungement scheme might be considered to expand systemic absolution. As it stands, once an individual commits a crime, they continue to be punished with collateral consequences, including social stigma of conviction, difficulty in finding employment, lost voting and jury rights, and inability to hold office.218Sonja B. Starr, Expungement Reform in Arizona: The Empirical Case for A Clean Slate, 52 Ariz. State L.J. 1059, 1088 (2015); Bibas, supra note 24, at 341–42. Excessive Punishment, supra note 223, at 258 (citing Michelle Natividad Rodriguez & Maurice Emsellem, 65 Million “Need Not Apply”: The Case for Reforming Criminal Background Checks for Employment 1 (Nat’l Emp. L. Project ed., 2011) (individuals with criminal records have difficulty finding employment as employers actively avoid hiring those with criminal records to avoid liability and because of bias; they also face barriers with housing, schooling, and personal relationships); Sarah B. Berson, Beyond the Sentence—Understanding Collateral Consequences, 272 Nat’l Inst. Just. J. 25 (2013) (discussing collateral consequences of being prohibited from social services like welfare and food stamps, disenfranchisement); Prescott & Starr, supra note 214, at 2470–71; Felon Voting Rights, Nat’l Conf. State Legislatures (Aug. 19, 2025), https://www.ncsl.org/elections-and-campaigns/felon-voting-rights [https://perma.cc/6MRL-EGAV]. Considering bankruptcy as a parallel provides some insight on how to expunge crimes from individuals as debts are discharged in a bankruptcy. A criminal conviction permanently labels and segregates an offender from society.219Love, supra note 76, at 770. This creates a growing class of internal exiles who, despite serving their punishment, have no way to successfully reintegrate into society.220Love, supra note 76, at 793 (noting that expungement recognizes that permanently withholding forgiveness after an offender completes his mandated punishment is indefensible both logically and morally).

Expungement is a process where the court destroys or seals an individual’s criminal conviction, removing it from a defendant’s criminal record, and ideally also from the public record.221What Is ‘Expungement?’, ABA (Nov. 20, 2018), https://www.americanbar.org/groups/public_education/publications/teaching-legal-docs/what-is-_expungement- [https://perma.cc/982F-BL7T]. This allows restoration of civil rights, limits the harm of inquiries by employers about criminal histories, and seeks to prohibit exclusion based on a prior conviction.222Minow, supra note 24, at 131. While expungement does not mean that the victims of the crime have forgiven the offender, it does signify a second chance and redemption from society. In other words, the community absolves the offender, allowing them to change and shed their crime and become someone new.223See, e.g., Spencer Cox (@SpencerJCox), X (Feb. 10, 2022, 11:23 PT), https://x.com/SpencerJCox/status/1491840243716087818 [https://perma.cc/63L5-4H3D] (stating that “the rule of law is important, but so are second chances”); Cassidy Wixom, New App Helps Give Utahns Fresh Start Through Criminal Expungement, KSL, (Sept. 7, 2022), https://www.ksl.com/article/50471618/new-web-app-gives-utahns-fresh-start-through-criminal-expungement [https://perma.cc/89G8-4QVV] (citing Police Chief Wallentine emphasizing the importance of a society that practices redemption, clean slates and second chances). At the same time, expungement does not eliminate responsibility for crimes as it is currently only available to people who have served their sentences and often to those who have gone beyond that by demonstrating rehabilitation.224Starr, supra note 218, at 1088.

Traditionally, the legislature provided rules for expungement in state law, and under the applicable statute, individuals could petition the court for an expungement.225See Madelynn Woolf, Note, A State for Second Chances: Utah’s Clean Slate Legislation, 2024 Utah L. Rev. 475, 479; Alena A. Simon, Expanding the Extraordinary: Expungements in Minnesota, 39 Minn. J.L. & Ineq. 411, 414 (2021). However, expungements are not an option at the federal level; the federal system relies exclusively on clemency. Rachel E. Barkow, Clemency and Presidential Administration of Criminal Law, 90 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 802, 867 (2015). But a unique characteristic of clean slate legislation is their automatic clearance of former crimes, which makes it a worthy form of systemic absolution. Several states have recently enacted clean slate legislation providing for automatic expungements, making the process much less burdensome for those with convictions.226See 18 Pa Stat. and Consol. Stat. Ann. § 9122.2 (2025); Utah Code Ann. § 77-40a-205 (2025); N.J. Stat. Ann. § 2C:52-5.3 (West 2024); Mich. Comp. Laws Ann. § 780.621g (2025); Conn. Gen. Stat. Ann. § 54-142a (West 2025); Del. Code Ann. tit. 11, § 4373A (2025); Va. Code Ann. § 19.2-392.5–§ 19.2–392.17 (2025); Okla. Stat. Ann. tit. 22, § 18 (2025); Cal. Penal Code Ann. § 851.93 (West 2025); Cal. Penal Code Ann. § 1203.45 (West 2025); Minn. Stat. § 609A.015 (West); Colo. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 13-3-117 (West 2025); S.B. S7551A 2023 Leg. Sess. (N.Y. 2023). National momentum began with Pennsylvania first passing a clean slate law in 2018 and then twelve other states following their lead.22718 Pa. Cons. Stat. § 9122.2 (2020); John Cole, Shapiro Signs ‘Clean Slate 3.0’ Into Law, Pa. Capital-Star (Dec. 14, 2023), https://www.penncapital-star.com/criminal-justice/shapiro-signs-clean-slate-3-0-into-law [https://web.archive.org/web/20250513041307/https://penncapital-star.com/criminal-justice/shapiro-signs-clean-slate-3-0-into-law]. See also Jillian Atelsek, Pa.’s Clean Slate Act, a One-Of-A-Kind Law That Seals Some Criminal Files, Gets Official Introduction, PennLive Patriot-News (Jun. 28, 2019), https://www.pennlive.com/news/2019/06/pas-clean-slate-act-a-one-of-a-kind-law-that-seals-some-criminal-files-gets-official-introduction.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20250121095900/https://www.pennlive.com/news/2019/06/pas-clean-slate-act-a-one-of-a-kind-law-that-seals-some-criminal-files-gets-official-introduction.html]. These laws function by automatically erasing criminal records after a specified amount of time.228Skrajewski, supra note 211, at 721 (discussing Connecticut’s Clean Slate law). This automated process has dramatically shifted the landscape of expungements in those states. For example, one year after Pennsylvania’s law went into effect, forty-seven million criminal charges were sealed, just over half the total charges in the criminal database.229Kimberly E. Capuder, Can a Person’s “Slate” Ever Really Be “Cleaned”? The Modern-Day Implications of Pennsylvania’s Clean Slate Act, 94 St. John’s L. Rev. 501, 502 (2020) (citing Atelsek, supra note 227). Between the twelve states, some fourteen million individuals are now eligible to have their records automatically cleared.230The Clean Slate Initiative, CSI Annual Report (2023). At least five more states have pending clean slate bills,231Clean Slate Laws in the United States, InformData, https://www.informdata.com/clean-slate-law-resources [https://perma.cc/E3VR-7GHA]. and two Federal Clean Slate laws have also been proposed.232Allen Smith, Clean Slate Laws Are Spreading, Soc’y for Human Res. Mgmt. (Mar. 25, 2024), https://www.shrm.org/topics-tools/employment-law-compliance/clean-slate-laws-are-spreading [https://perma.cc/XT9T-T9F3] (“Two federal clean slate laws have been proposed, noted Jason Cooper, vice president of programs for The Clean Slate Initiative. The Clean Slate Act of 2023 would not address state-level needs but would rather provide a pathway to clear federal records, he said. The Fresh Start Act would provide federal funding to support the implementation of state-level record clearance laws, he explained.”). These new laws hopefully reflect a real shift in attitudes towards criminal records. For example, Utah’s Clean Slate Law seals eligible crimes so that they do not appear on records, and individuals will legally be able to respond to questions about criminal history as if the crime never happened.233Clean Slate Utah, https://www.cleanslateutah.org [https://perma.cc/N3ZT-AS8Z]; Utah Code Ann. § 77-40a-205 (2025). Utah’s law allows for some misdemeanor crimes to be expunged automatically if there is not another conviction for five to seven years.234H.B. 431, 63rd Leg., 2019 Gen. Sess. (Utah 2019). The records are not destroyed, but still maintained at the Bureau of Criminal Identification and may be released upon court order. Indiana has an expansive law making expungement and sealing of records mandatory for records where no conviction has occurred.235Minow, supra note 24, at 132; Utah Code § 77-40a-101 (2025). This includes serious felonies, and expungement is mandatory for misdemeanors if eligible.236Minow, supra note 24, at 132; Ind. Code Ann. § 35-38-9 (West 2025). The law requires in all cases that an expunged conviction shall be treated “as if the person had never been convicted of the offense.”237Minow, supra note 24, at 132. Ind. Code Ann. § 35-38-9 (West 2025). California also forgives old convictions for marijuana possessions, following the state’s legalization of recreational use of marijuana.238Minow, supra note 24, at 133–34. At the end of 2023, New York became the twelfth state to pass a “clean slate” law.239Grace Ashford, New York Will Give a ‘Clean Slate’ to Formerly Incarcerated People, N.Y. Times (Nov. 16, 2023), https://www.nytimes.com/2023/11/16/nyregion/clean-slate-act-ny.html [https://web.archive.org/web/20250722100910/https://www.nytimes.com/2023/11/16/nyregion/clean-slate-act-ny.html]; see also Clean Slate in States, The Clean Slate Initiative, https://www.cleanslateinitiative.org/states [https://perma.cc/DGJ3-9F8K].

Many of these clean slate laws are a form of systemic absolution in which, based on certain qualifications, offenders can have their convictions automatically expunged without having to inquire into the specific facts of each case. Crimes automatically disappear from criminal records in the way ancient societies were healed ritually through a symbolic ritual. And although not directly reducing the number of people incarcerated, clean records have been shown to correlate with reduced recidivism rates,240Prescott & Starr, supra note 214, at 2511. as well as arrest rates lower than the general population of the state and higher employment outcomes.241Id. at 2514. Clean slate laws also exemplify a forgiveness-centered legislative approach to criminal justice reform. They go beyond simply softening punishments, as the public through their elected representatives demonstrates a possible systemic approach to forgiveness, or a cleansing of the public slate.242See, e.g., Minow, supra note 41, at 1618 (discussing collateral consequences of being prohibited from social services like welfare and food stamps, disenfranchisement); Berson, supra note 218, at 25; Prescott & Starr, supra note 214, at 2470–71; Felon Voting Rights, supra note 218.

It is possible to expand automatic expungement to all states and consider this for the federal system. A historical corollary is bankruptcy law which allows those who are unable to repay their debts to have them wiped clean under federal law, as the Bankruptcy Act of 1800 facilitated the release of debt prisoners.243Morris Weisman, The Bankruptcy of Robert Morris, 45 Com. L.J. 163 (1940). Although debt prisons were not officially abolished at the federal level until 1833, the Bankruptcy Act of 1800 was the first federal law concerning bankruptcy. The Act allowed debt prisoners to be released if two-thirds of their creditors forgave the debts. See Charles Jordan Tabb, The History of the Bankruptcy Laws in the United States, 3 Am. Bankr. Inst. L. Rev. 5, 14–16 (1995). Before this act, people who could not pay their debts were punished and put into prisons with poor conditions and punished as criminals. Bankruptcy law in the United States requires a person with debts to report all of their assets. Then, they are released from the burden of having to pay the debts they cannot afford to pay, and the debt is eventually discharged.244Minow, supra note 24, at 80; 2 Joan N. Feeney & Michael J. Stepan, Bankruptcy Law Manual § 8:2 (5th ed. 2025) (“[A] discharge operates as an injunction against the enforcement of any discharged debt as a personal liability of the debtor, including the continuation of legal process, offsets, or other collection efforts against the debtor.”). After a legal bankruptcy, the individual who owed a debt and their company are free from any legal claims, though they may remain “a poor credit risk for future loans until they develop a record of making timely payments of bills.”245Minow, supra note 24, at 80; Feeney, supra note 244. Automatic removal of a bankruptcy occurs after seven or ten years, depending on the type of bankruptcy.246See 15 U.S.C.A. § 1681c (West 2018) (stating that credit reports cannot include chapter 11 bankruptcy records that are more than ten years old, or chapter 13 bankruptcy records that are more than seven years old). The federal system could consider expungement of a criminal record after a similar period of time.

Expungement is an existing procedure that could be expanded so that more people who have been convicted of a crime and served their time could have their records expunged automatically and periodically. Federal expungement could mimic the bankruptcy system, with the goal of improving systemic absolution. Federal legislation called the Redeem Act has been proposed to tackle some of these issues.247Redeem Act, H.R. 2410, 116th Cong. (2019). Introduced in the 116th Congress, this bill would seal or expunge non-violent crimes. States who have not done so could legislate for an automatic expungement procedure for people who have been arrested and then remained crime-free for a certain number of years to have arrests removed from their record. Implementing an automatic expungement procedure where all people who have not been rearrested after a certain number of years could be expunged is one means by which to bring about societal absolution in our criminal justice system. Like the scapegoat ritual of old, this could be one way for society to understand that people can change and there should be periodic room to create a clean slate.

C. Clemency

While clemency is a broad term, American law primarily recognizes five forms of clemency: pardon, amnesty, commutation, remission of fines, and reprieve.248Daniel T. Kobill, The Quality of Mercy Strained: Wrestling the Pardoning Power from the King, 69 Tex. L. Rev. 569, 575 (1991). Clemency traces its roots back to the Code of Hammurabi through the Greeks and Romans to the English legal system, and is enmeshed in principles of forgiveness.249Id. at 605; Barkow, supra note 225, at 807. Because it is based on an executive considering an individual’s case and providing them forgiveness for their crimes, it does not have the potential applicability for systemic absolution. However, because clemency provides constitutional and historical authority for the importance of forgiveness in criminal justice, it is discussed below, though such approaches are not recommended for expanding into broader systemic absolution.

  1. Pardon Power

Clemency can be used to improve justice by adjusting individual sentences to avoid undeserved punishment.250Kobill, supra note 248, at 571. In the United States, clemency power lies in the Executive branch in the Pardon Clause which vests the president with “[p]ower to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offences against the United States, except in Cases of Impeachment.”251U.S. Const. art. II, § 2, cl. 1. The president’s pardon power is expansively broad, and they may exercise their discretion to pardon for any reason, with no requirement to base their decision on objective criteria.252Barkow, supra note 225, at 807, 812–13; Zeidman, supra note 176, at 7 (defining clemency as a “vast and often unfettered power vested in the executive”). The president can use clemency to correct decisions of prior administrations with which they disagree and to make a statement about broader policy views.253Barkow, supra note 225, at 831, 839. The majority of state constitutions also provide for a similar clemency power.254Paul J. Larkin, Jr., Revitalizing the Clemency Process, 39 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 833, 844 (2016); Kobill, supra note 248, at 575 (“[Clemency] is the oldest form of release procedure . . . .”). The Founders understood the importance of establishing an avenue for mercy within the criminal justice system as a necessary check on a system that may allow for retribution.255Hopwood, supra note 173, at 91. Moreover, it allows for more uniformity of treatment because it allows the president to consider national patterns, whereas prosecutors may focus on local interests.256Barkow, supra note 225, at 838, 855–56. Some scholars argue that the Framers intended clemency to serve as an important check on overreach in punishing criminals, and if it goes unused, the justice system becomes unbalanced.257Rachel E. Barkow & Mark Osler, Restructuring Clemency: The Cost of Ignoring Clemency and the Plan for a Renewal, 82 Chi. L. Rev. 1, 5 (2015); Id. at 17 (“It is clear that the Framers intended the pardon power not only to be a vehicle for the ancient value of mercy but also to play a role in the balance between the branches of government.”). Barkow also notes that a decline in clemency exacerbates the problem of over incarceration and puts pressure on other mechanisms available to prisoners, such as habeas corpus. Id. See also Barkow, supra note 225, at 824 (noting that executive clemency provides an independent protection for individuals against enforcement of harsh or oppressive criminal laws, providing a check on both Congress and executive enforcement agents). Furthermore, while states may provide alternative mechanisms such as expungement, in the federal system, clemency is the only avenue for offenders to clear their records without further legislation.258Barkow, supra note 225, at 867; Love, supra note 76, at 792 (noting that “for the vast majority of adult criminal offenders, a pardon offers the only way of avoiding or mitigating the collateral consequences of conviction”).

In the past, pardons were used more expansively to address policy issues, such as President Carter issuing amnesties for draft evaders,259Barkow & Osler, supra note 257, at 8–9. or George Washington pardoning participants in the Whiskey Rebellion.260Minow, supra note 24, at 113. In more recent years, Presidents Reagan, Clinton, and Bush used the pardon power only sporadically, and did not use it to promote policy initiatives.261Barkow & Osler, supra note 257, at 8–9. Modern presidents have differed in their approaches to the use of clemency. For example, President Obama granted 1,927 clemency petitions in his time as president,262Clemency Statistics, U.S. Dep’t of Just, https://www.justice.gov/pardon/clemency-statistics [https://perma.cc/UB89-N5SF]. with many recipients being offenders serving time for drug-related crimes.263Matt Apuzzo, After Obama Push for Clemency, Hints of Reversal Likely to Come, N.Y. Times (Nov. 22, 2016), https://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/22/us/politics/obama-commutations-criminal-justice-trump.html [https://perma.cc/2ZKV-93RX]. President Trump granted far fewer petitions,264President Trump granted 238 petitions during his time as president from 2016 to 2020. Clemency Statistics, supra note 262. and many of the petitions he did grant were for people he knew personally.265Matthew S. Schwartz, Roger Stone Clemency Latest Example Of Trump Rewarding His Friends, Scholars Say, NPR (Jul. 12, 2020), https://www.npr.org/2020/07/12/890075577/roger-stone-clemency-latest-example-of-trump-rewarding-his-friends-scholars-say [https://perma.cc/G2H4-3QAP]; Mark Osler, The Trump Clemencies: Celebrities, Chaos, and Lost Opportunity, 31 Wm. & Mary Bill of Rts. J. 487, 487 (2022). Clemency and commutation rates have declined drastically, most likely driven by tough-on-crime political forces.266Barkow, supra note 225, at 817–18. For example, while President Kennedy granted 33% of clemency requests, President George W. Bush granted only 2%.267Osler, supra note 265, at 488. Similarly, from 1909 to 1913, President Taft granted 39% of requests, but President Obama granted only 5% during his tenure.268Percentages are calculated from the data reported in Clemency Statistics, supra note 262. Recent presidents have also used commutation to grant relief to criminal offenders. In 2024, President Biden commuted sentences of thirty-seven prisoners who were facing the death penalty with mixed reactions, some believing these were a “justifiable mercy,”269Jeffrey Collins & Ali Swenson, Relief, Defiance, Anger: Families and Advocates React to Biden’s Death Row Commutations, Associated Press (Dec. 23, 2024), https://apnews.com/article/biden-death-row-commutations-trump-executions-ce7763faf93bc77773bfb635dd8c51d7 [https://perma.cc/6CG5-XUN7]. and others claiming that victims were not shown appropriate justice.270Lee Kovarsky, Joe Biden’s Justifiable Mercy, MSNBC (Dec. 23, 2024), https://www.msnbc.com/opinion/msnbc-opinion/joe-biden-death-penalty-commutation-trump-mercy-rcna185220 [https://perma.cc/8QQE-Y5ZS]; Taylor Penley, Family of Murdered SC Woman Rages at Biden for Commuting Killer’s Death Sentence: ‘She Was Shown No Mercy’, Fox News (Dec. 24, 2024), https://www.foxnews.com/media/family-murdered-sc-woman-rages-biden-commuting-killers-death-sentence-she-shown-no-mercy [https://perma.cc/RTD8-7V9W]. Overall, Biden pardoned over 4,000 individuals and Donald Trump has pardoned over 1,500.271Clemency Grants by President Donald J. Trump (2025-Present), U.S. Dep’t of Just. (last visited Nov. 2, 2025), https://www.justice.gov/pardon/clemency-grants-president-donald-j-trump-2025-present [https://perma.cc/8LJY-8JNS]; see also Joe Hernandez, Who Has President Trump Pardoned and Why?, NPR (Nov. 10, 2025, at 10:04 ET), https://www.npr.org/2025/11/10/nx-s1-5587875/trump-pardons-insider-political-orbit-second-term [https://perma.cc/SZ2L-6X4P].

The executive branch could consider data in its clemency decisions, potentially releasing a larger percentage of those incarcerated or considering data to determine which defendants are serving unfairly harsh sentences where others have received lesser punishments. Using clemency to reduce incarceration terms or inequity between those serving are two possibilities of expanding clemency beyond individual cases but considering it more broadly as a criminal justice reform measure. A potential problem to consider with the executive pardon power is its unlimited and unreviewable nature, raising the possibility for corruption and unequal treatment.272Minow, supra note 24 at 117, 123 (noting possible corruption resulting from pardons exchanged for money, political support, or personal advantage). Another problem is that the agency in charge of submitting cases for review to the president is the Department of Justice (DOJ), which creates “tension because all clemency decisions are, in effect, reviews of prosecutorial decisions already made” by the same executive branch.273Barkow, supra note 225, at 824. The DOJ does not see its role as a policymaker but rather as an enforcer of the law, so clemency will be unlikely to be popular in that department.274“[L]aw enforcement is the main mission of the entire DOJ. To place clemency in the DOJ thus creates an inherent tension because all clemency decisions are, in effect, reviews of prosecutorial decisions already made. Put another way, each pardon application is ‘a potential challenge to the law enforcement policies underlying the conviction.’ ” Barkow, supra note 225, at 824. Rachel Barkow and Mark Osler suggest that using data-driven clemency might systematically help reduce sentences and check prosecutors who are charging offenders too aggressively.275Barkow & Osler, supra note 257, at 24–25. The data collected can also help to identify and correct areas where prosecutors are prone to error.276Id. Currently, clemency is not used in any meaningful way to address mass incarceration either on the federal or state level; but with the right considerations, it could be.277Zeidman, supra note 176, at 7 (“Clemency, although a vast and often unfettered power vested in the executive, is also of limited value when it comes to redressing the crisis of mass incarceration. At the federal level, one glaring problem is that clemency is housed in the Department of Justice and dependent on prosecutors who focus on the conviction as opposed to who the person has become while in prison. At the state level, to the extent governors grant clemency applications they tend to confine themselves to the so-called non-violent, low-level drug offender.”).

  1. Amnesty

 Amnesty is a type of pardon, typically granted by a government to a group of people who have committed crimes, sometimes political in nature. President Andrew Johnson famously provided amnesty to all Confederate soldiers who decided to rejoin the Union.278Primary Source: Amnesty Letters, NCpedia, http://www.ncpedia.org/anchor/primary-source-amnesty# [https://perma.cc/KRJ5-D9Q8]. More recently, some scholars have proposed “Second Chance” programs to lawmakers that would grant first offenders amnesty after completing their sentence and a fixed term of probation.279Aaron Nussbaum, A Second Chance: Amnesty for the First Offender 186 (1974). In 2018, the St. Louis Municipal Court established a warrant amnesty program, allowing anyone with an outstanding warrant for violating certain city ordinances to pay their original fines without late penalties.280Minow, supra note 24, at 115. A potential use of amnesties is to stop mistakes in applications of the law. Martha Minow recommends the use of amnesties to “check overly zealous or biased prosecutions, excessively punitive rules, and simply mistaken policies.”281Id. at 136. But thinking more broadly, amnesties could be applied extensively in cities and states to forgive certain types of criminal offenders, or those who have served a certain period or have undergone particular educational or rehabilitation programs while incarcerated. Amnesties can be used broadly and systematically by executive branch leaders to allow those serving long or punitive terms to have reduced sentences, or even to forgive those serving time due to mistaken policies.

While amnesty and pardons are not the best approaches to systemic absolution, as they are best handled on an individual basis, there are ways to

expand both practices that are already grounded in constitutional and legislative provisions to create larger avenues for forgiveness of crime.

IV. The Role of Systemic Absolution in Criminal Justice

Systemic absolution can create a more comprehensive theory of punishment and has the potential to transform criminal justice. While forgiveness or absolution might appear as only relevant individually, systemic absolution is already used in second look sentencing, automatic expungements of criminal records, and executive clemency as discussed above. It can also be expanded by increasing indeterminate sentencing, automating deferred adjudication, and by removing barriers for judges or parole boards to reduce sentences. Establishing a structural framework for these existing practices under the label of “systemic absolution” could help place them in proper context, promoting a more comprehensive approach to justice—one that allows for broad-scale forgiveness after punishment. There is a historic basis for societal forgiveness in Judaic, Roman, and indigenous laws. Understanding the religious roots behind our criminal justice policy allows us to question the guiding principles of retributivism and incapacitation that dominate our criminal justice policy. While it will always remain important to punish people proportionately and hold people accountable for crimes, these retributive aims are not complete without considering absolution after accountability. Current criminal justice theory is missing absolution, or a way to clean the slate after crime. Given that crimes by their nature are offenses against a state or community, a systemic absolution framework allows legislative, judicial, and executive branches to sort out the American mire of criminality.

The U.S. criminal justice system includes many people imprisoned for crimes, often because of a mistake made years ago or for those lacking resources or desire to change. Some have no interest in rehabilitation and remain a danger to society, but this is not the vast majority of the almost two million incarcerated. Many have potential to change but lack opportunities to rehabilitate and reintegrate into society. As such, the system hardly grants opportunities for individuals to start afresh, leaving many who remain in the cycle of criminality. This final Section introduces three considerations in adopting a systemic absolution framework. First, it considers criminal offenders potentially avoiding adequate accountability for crime. Second, it considers societal shifts on absolution that could allow forgiveness principles affecting individuals more universally to expand to macro-level systemic forgiveness. Third, it considers the perception of society on punishment and the age effect on crime and forgiveness. These principles contextualize systemic absolution with current accountability rates for crime, increased social interest in forgiveness, and empirical data demonstrating that society views current punishment trends as unduly harsh.

A. Perpetrators of Crime Avoiding Adequate Accountability

The criminal justice system, which currently fails to punish most offenders, could benefit from systemic absolution to deal with the twin challenges of mass incarceration and low criminal accountability. Scholars and policy advocates are aware of the American incarceration problem; America is number one in incarceration rates and will be for the foreseeable future. What is less understood is the amount of unresolved crime in America, or the low criminal accountability rate.282Shima Baradaran Baughman, How Effective Are Police? The Problem of Clearance Rates and Criminal Accountability, 72 Ala. L. Rev. 47, 98–99 (2020) (“[T]he overall criminal accountability picture is much worse than we might have thought. There are less than 7% conviction rates for all crimes besides murder and rape, and a less than 2% true conviction rate overall.”). About twenty million serious crimes occur in America per year,283Shima Baradaran Baughman, Punishing Violence 1 (unpublished manuscript) (on file with author). but only a small fraction of these crimes are solved by police and then punished by the criminal justice system. Only 50% of serious crimes are reported to the police, 20% are solved, and 10% lead to a conviction.284Id. Thus, 90% of offenders go free, many without even being arrested. Arguably, America’s criminal justice system is technically absolving many serious crimes already, by failing to arrest most individuals. Many criminal justice scholars have overlooked this problem, but any argument that we should deal with criminal justice issues in a way that excludes these considerations is missing a big piece of the puzzle. Currently, society is both accepting high incarceration rates while ignoring the victims of serious crimes and failing to find a meaningful solution to the lack of criminal accountability.

Very few would argue that increased severity in incarceration is the best long-term approach to this twin problem of mass incarceration and low accountability.285Id. Even though there is a low probability of apprehension for offenders, the number and types of felonies that we punish have increased.286Id. The combination of low apprehension and high punishment increases the risk of recidivism, so the severity of punishment is not effective as a deterrent, and longer sentences are not the solution to recidivism.287“Not only have lengthy sentences been shown to have little impact on an individual’s tendency to reoffend, there is strong evidence indicating that individuals ‘age out’ of criminal behavior.” Zeidman, supra note 176, at 4. See Elizabeth Berger & Kent S. Scheidegger, Sentence Length and Recidivism: A Review of the Research, 35 Fed. Sent’g Rep. 59, 68 (2022) (reviewing nineteen studies and concluding that “the research [appears mixed, with] . . . no studies finding a large aggregate-level criminogenic effect associated with longer sentences” that is large enough to offset incapacitative effects); Sarah M. Estelle & David C. Phillips, Smart Sentencing Guidelines: The Effect of Marginal Policy Changes on Recidivism, 164 J. Pub. Econ. 270, 289 (2018) (concluding that “policies that lead to harsher sentences for different groups of people can affect recidivism in quite different ways” and finding “no evidence that [Operating While Intoxicated-3rd Offense] offenders commit fewer offenses when receiving harsher sentences, while Retail Fraud offenders receive 22% fewer felony convictions in the future when sentenced under harsher guidelines”); Ellen A. C. Raaijmakers, Thomas A. Loughran, Jan W. de Keijser, Paul Nieuwbeerta & Anja J. E. Dirkzwager, Exploring the Relationship Between Subjectively Experienced Severity of Imprisonment and Recidivism: A Neglected Element in Testing Deterrence Theory, 54 J. Rsch. Crime & Delinq. 3, 19, 21 (2017) (concluding that “even when accounting for the [subjectively experienced severity of imprisonment], more severe prison sentences do not deter offenders from subsequent involvement in crime” and suggesting that “since inmates with more prior convictions tend to experience their imprisonment as increasingly less aversive, preventing long criminal records may be a more effective strategy to achieve this goal”). Incarceration is also an inadequate way to restore victims; because few offenders even get to the incarceration stage, most victims of crime are left without meaningful resolution. Increased certainty of punishment could help increase deterrence of crime. The few experiments with decriminalization demonstrate that this is not a viable solution.288Conrad Wilson, Oregon Pioneered a Radical Drug Policy. Now It’s Reconsidering., NPR (Feb. 7, 2024), https://www.npr.org/2024/02/07/1229655142/oregon-pioneered-a-radical-drug-policy-now-its-reconsidering [https://perma.cc/XGK4-M9QJ] (explaining how Measure 110, which stopped police from arresting drug users, has been linked to increased overdose deaths in Oregon); Alicia Victoria Lozano, Progressive California and Oregon Revive the War on Drugs Amid Fentanyl Crisis, NBC News (Mar. 20, 2024), https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/california-oregon-reviving-war-drugs-fentanyl-crisis-rcna142387 [https://web.archive.org/web/20250811175804/https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/california-oregon-reviving-war-drugs-fentanyl-crisis-rcna142387] (showing how decriminalization of drugs in Oregon was ultimately reversed, passing a “new bill [which] would make possession of drugs such as heroin or methamphetamine a misdemeanor, punishable by up to six months in jail”); see Eli Saslow, In California, Prop 47 Has Turned into a “Virtual Get-Out-of-Jail-Free Card”, Wash. Post (Oct. 10, 2015), https://www.washingtonpost.com/sf/national/2015/10/10/prop47/ [https://perma.cc/7HT8-57CB]; Barnini Chakraborty, California’s Prop 47 Leads to Rise in Shoplifting, Thefts, Criminal Activity Across State, Fox News (Nov. 1, 2019), https://www.foxnews.com/us/california-prop-47-shoplifting-theft-crime-statewide [https://perma.cc/73KD-MR5B] (explaining how California’s efforts to downgrade theft under $950 from a felony to a misdemeanor has led to an increase in property theft) (“Proposition 47 is seen by critics as one of California’s biggest blunders.”).

Punishment does not necessarily have to involve long-term incarceration and could include alternative approaches to criminal accountability. For instance, one approach discussed above that might institute broader criminal absolution would be to expand prosecutorial use of deferred prosecution as the norm for first-time offenders of crime, or those who might be especially well suited for mental health or drug rehabilitation. Prosecutors might charge crimes and delay trial or a plea agreement and sentencing rather than immediately convict offenders.289    See supra Part III.A.2. Offenders must comply with certain standards that the prosecutor imposes as part of a “deferred prosecution agreement.”290Carrie Pettus‐Davis, Matthew Epperson, Annie Grier, Megan Kraatz, Leon Sawh & Stephanie Kennedy, Inst. for Just. Rsch. & Dev., Deferred Prosecution Programs 7. These requirements could include drug court, mental health court, drug testing, rehabilitation, mentoring and counseling, or other programs. If they meet the requirements and are not arrested again within a certain period, the prosecutor can drop the charges against them.291See supra Part III.A.2. Like absolution in religion, criminal absolution might involve an offender recognizing her crime and taking measures that show her penitence. In return, the prosecutor, the person situated to impose justice on behalf of society, absolves her of punishment. However, this can be done automatically in a prosecutorial office where all individuals charged with certain crimes can have their charges dropped automatically if they remain law-abiding after a certain period of time. Deferred prosecution is one approach that might allow for a regular absolution of crime in a way that still maintains adequate deterrence for crime while allowing the principles of forgiveness to influence criminal justice.

B. Societal Shifts on Forgiveness

In recent years, forgiveness and restorative justice have been more prominent as individuals recognize the individual harm of holding on to resentment and hate. Empirical scholars like Megan Stevenson have argued that even well-designed criminal justice studies rarely produce meaningful change.292Megan T. Stevenson, Cause, Effect, and the Structure of the Social World, 103 B.U. L. Rev. 2001, 2043 (2023) (noting that very few evidence-based studies can be replicated, she suggests that more holistic changes in criminal justice would occur by going to the root causes of the justice problem). Stevenson points out that systemic change is a potential solution that involves changing the “minds and hearts” of many people “as well as changing the concrete structural factors.”293Id. (“When it comes to systemic reform, we are flying half blind.”). The possibility of systemic change in the criminal justice system could be for communities to advocate for more formal adoption of systemic absolution, or broadscale forgiveness measures.

International charities are embracing forgiveness concepts,294Top-selling books on forgiveness include Timothy Keller, Forgive: Why Should I and How Can I? (2022) (emphasizing the importance of forgiveness and explaining how readers can apply forgiveness to their daily lives); Lysa TerKeurst, Forgiving What You Can’t Forget: Discover How to Move On, Make Peace with Painful Memories, and Create a Life That’s Beautiful Again (2020) (showing readers how forgiveness can bring peace into readers’ lives); Katherine Schwarzenegger Pratt, The Gift of Forgiveness: Inspiring Stories from Those Who Have Overcome the Unforgivable (2020) (a collection of interviews and stories of those who have been able to forgive or been impacted by forgiveness of others). and the Templeton World Charity Foundation aims to reach 100 million people through evidence-based approaches to forgiveness in a worldwide “Discover Forgiveness” campaign.295Jubilee Centre Commences New Project on Forgiveness, Jubilee Ctr., https://www.jubileecentre.ac.uk/jubilee-centre-commences-new-project-on-forgiveness [https://perma.cc/WT96-SN9V] (“The Jubilee Centre has commenced a landscaping review project to identify the means through which findings from the global Discover Forgiveness campaign can best be disseminated to key ‘frontline workers’ of forgiveness. The Campaign, organized and funded by the Templeton World Charity Foundation (TWCF), aims to reach 100 million people by making evidence-based approaches to forgiveness more easily accessible to those professionals who could most benefit from them, and by building a global coalition of partners (‘forgiveness champions’) committed to raising awareness of the science of forgiveness. . . .”). Similarly, in 2004, UK journalist Marina Cantacuzino founded The Forgiveness Project, which “provides resources and experiences to help people examine and overcome their own unresolved grievances.”296Our Purpose, Forgiveness Project, https://www.theforgivenessproject.com/our-purpose [https://perma.cc/GNX7-3C8Z]. The Forgiveness Project provides resources including shame training for people working in restorative justice, a group-based prison reform project “RESTORE,” and forgiveness-based lesson plans for schools.297Shame Training, Forgiveness Project, https://www.theforgivenessproject.com/online-training [https://perma.cc/5A7B-GZTQ]; Prison Chronicles, Forgiveness Project, https://www.theforgivenessproject.com/prison-chronicles [https://perma.cc/96L2-VZ4Z]; Education Resources, Forgiveness Project, https://www.theforgivenessproject.com/education-resources [https://perma.cc/7P3U-UQXM]. Other international initiatives, Beyond Conflict and the Institute for Historical Justice and Reconciliation, aim to rectify conflicts and reconcile contentious histories by employing practices of individual forgiveness.298International Peacebuilding, Beyond Conflict Int’l, https://beyondconflictint.org/international-peacebuilding [https://perma.cc/WN4Z-E6S6]; Our Mission, Inst. for Hist. Just. & Reconciliation, https://ihjr.org [https://perma.cc/3FBX-NEDU]. In one of the areas where societal norms have led before the legal academy, media and social science thinkers have explored important ground in considering the benefits of forgiveness to individuals.299See Brené Brown, Rising Strong 152 (2015) (“[F]orgiveness is not forgetting or walking away from accountability or condoning a hurtful act; it’s the process of taking back and healing our lives so we can truly live.”); Dimensions of Forgiveness: Psychological Research & Theological Perspectives (Everett L. Worthington ed., 1998) (analyzing both religious and secular approaches to forgiveness and the impact of forgiveness on individuals and society).

The legal academy has considered that the harm of punishment to an individual does not make the victim whole.300Lara Bazelon & Bruce A. Green, Victims’ Rights from a Restorative Perspective, 17 Ohio St. J. Crim. L. 293, 322 (2019) (“[T]here is scant evidence to suggest that punishing an offender to the maximum possible extent ameliorates the suffering of victims. To the contrary: studies show that any satisfaction victims may experience from such an outcome is temporary and not conducive to the healing process.”); Linda G. Mills, The Justice of Recovery: How the State Can Heal the Violence of Crime, 57 Hastings L.J. 457, 457 (2006) (“Punishment alone does very little to heal the gaping wound a crime can leave on victims and their families.”); Stephanos Bibas & Richard A. Bierschbach, Integrating Remorse and Apology into Criminal Procedure, 114 Yale L.J. 85, 137 (2004) (“Studies suggest that most victims are far less vengeful and punitive than most lawyers assume.”). Indeed, research demonstrates that forgiveness is more likely to help victims than punishment is. Michael Wenzel and Tyler Okimoto found that “a sense of justice restored through restorative responses promotes forgiveness, but justice restored through retributive responses does not.”301Michael Wenzel & Tyler G. Okimoto, On the Relationship Between Justice and Forgiveness: Are All Forms of Justice Made Equal?, 53 Brit. J. Soc. Psych. 463, 481 (2014). According to research, victims of robbery, burglary, and assault are twenty-three times more likely to feel they have received a sincere apology and four times less likely to desire revenge after restorative justice conferences as opposed to ordinary legal proceedings.302Michael E. McCullough, Lindsey M. Root, Benjamin A. Tabak & Charlotte van Oyen Witvliet, Forgiveness, in The Oxford Handbook of Positive Psychology (Shane J. Lopez & C. R. Snyder eds., 2009). Victims expressed more satisfaction with restorative than adversarial processes and expressed excitement to help offenders turn their lives around, even though they rarely articulated the concept of forgiveness.303Minow, supra note 24, at 8.

There are many physical, mental, and emotional benefits for victims who choose to forgive their offenders, and negative effects when people fail to forgive.304See supra Part I. Positive psychology experts explain that when people forgive, their emotional reactivity decreases and their level of happiness goes up.305Ercengiz, supra note 56. (“Forgiving a criminal makes it easier to evaluate the event in a calmer mood.”). However, the benefits of forgiveness for a victim are not as great as the “adverse health consequences” of failing to forgive.306Long, supra note 53, at 8. Unforgiveness “is associated with stress-related poor mental health, rumination, and depression.”307Ercengiz, supra note 56. Dr. John Clabby found physical harm for holding on to emotional injury and notes, in particular, adverse effects on the heart.308Clabby, supra note 57, at 124. Having each individual perpetrator or victim enter through the criminal justice system is not necessarily vital, as some benefits for both sides can be found through restorative measures.309I. Bennet Capers, Against Prosecutors, 105 Cornell L. Rev. 1561, 1598–99 (2020). These individual benefits can extend to society if systemic absolution were adopted in a comprehensive crime framework.

C. Punishment Levels Need Adjusting

Both empirical research and societal surveys show that punishing for as long as we do might not benefit society. First, criminology research has long supported the crime-age curve that demonstrates how criminality rates peak in the late teens and drop steadily as age increases.310Marc Le Blanc, On The Future of the Individual Longitudinal Age-Crime Curve, 30 Crim. Behav. & Mental Health 183, 187 (2020) (“The conviction careers of the Montréal generation of 1980 began at 12, the new minimum age of criminal responsibility introduced by the Young Offender Act in 1984. At 12 and 13, very few males were adjudicated, less then 5%. Then the prevalence doubled between 14 and 15, from 17 to 37%, and the summit was attained at 17 with 49%. An important drop happened at 18, from 49 to 34%. Prevalence stayed high, in the 20% range between 19 and 22. The next level was around 10–12% from 23 to 30. During the 30s, the low level was from 8 to 5%. Finally, the prevalence was below 3% during the early 40s.”); Michael Rocque et al., Age and Crime, in 1 The Encyclopedia of Crime and Punishment 1–8 (Wesley G. Jennings ed., 2016) (according to the 2012 Uniform Crime Report, “while ages 18–24 represented only 11.2% of the population (according to the US Census), they made up over 28.7% of all arrests . . . while those aged 50–64 represent 19% of the population, they only represented 9.3% of all arrests.”). In 2019, individuals between the ages of fifteen and twenty-nine made up nearly forty-two percent of all arrests in the United States.311Crime in the United States, Fed. Bureau Inv. (2019), https://ucr.fbi.gov/crime-in-the-u.s/2019/crime-in-the-u.s.-2019/tables/table-38/table-38.xls#overview [https://perma.cc/492Q-JY8G]. Individuals aged fifty and above accounted for only thirteen percent of arrests.312Id. Other research has shown that there is a dramatic drop-off in criminality after the age of forty.313Crime increases through the teenage years and peaks at seventeen across all races, ethnicities, education levels, and incomes. And “over 50% of the current prison population is 40 or older” and “[m]ore specifically, researchers suggest that even among so called ‘chronic offenders,’ the vast majority will cease committing crime by their 40s. . . . Older prisoners certainly merit second looks.” Zeidman, supra note 176, at 4. Indeed, we understand that older individuals are unlikely to recidivate. Congress has passed the First Step Act to allow release for those serving after the age of sixty and not charged with violent crimes. We also know that people typically age out of violent crime by fifty.314Baughman & McIntyre, supra note 180, at 522–23, 535. There is room for sentence revisions based on this information. However, older inmates charged with violent crimes are also very unlikely to recidivate.315The Effects of Aging on Recidivism Among Federal Offenders, U.S. Sent’g Comm’n (Dec. 7, 2017) https://www.ussc.gov/research/research-reports/effects-aging-recidivism-among-federal-offenders [https://perma.cc/9SN3-66WP] (study finding that “[o]lder offenders were substantially less likely than younger offenders to recidivate following release. Over an eight-year follow-up period, 13.4 percent of offenders age 65 or older at the time of release were rearrested compared to 67.6 percent of offenders younger than age 21 at the time of release. The pattern was consistent across age groupings, and recidivism measured by rearrest, reconviction, and reincarceration declined as age increased”). And given that the bulk of state inmates are serving long sentences of violent crimes, and two out of three are over the age of fifty-five, reconsidering sentences for defendants between forty and sixty could dramatically decrease incarceration rates.316Those convicted of violent offenses who are older at release have lower overall recidivism rates, including those serving sentences for murder. And according to the Bureau of Justice, two out of three people serving a prison sentence for violent crimes are at least fifty-five years old making them very unlikely to commit future crimes. Zeidman, supra note 176, at 5. “Second looks should not carve out people convicted of violent crimes.” Id. See also Ashley Nellis & Breanna Bishop, A New Lease on Life, Sent’g Project (Jun. 30, 2021), https://www.sentencingproject.org/app/uploads/2022/08/A-New-Lease-on-Life.pdf [https://perma.cc/YH9R-Z98N]. For example, society would not face increased safety threats when second look laws include individuals in their fifties and forties who have already served lengthy sentences for violent crime.317Perhaps we might start with providing a second look to inmates aged fifty-five and above and then gradually moving to those aged forty-five to fifty-five.

Empirical work by Paul Robinson demonstrates that society’s sense of justice is to punish much less than we currently do.318Capers, supra note 309 at 1601–02. See Robinson, supra note 64, at 197–98 (“One recent study showed that a wide range of modern crime-control doctrines treat cases in ways that dramatically conflict with laypeople’s intuitions of justice. The conflict exists for such standard doctrines as ‘three strikes’ and other habitual offender statutes, high penalties for drug offenses, adult prosecution of juveniles, abolition or narrowing of the insanity defense, strict liability, felony murder, and criminalization of regulatory violations.”). Robinson argues that most criminal law systems have already lost the moral credibility with their communities because they are far too harsh.319Robinson, supra note 64. Robinson contends that there is more room for mercy in criminal justice and has advocated for a codification of rules that could be applied consistently and would not become dependent on the judge or some other extraneous factor.320Id. Robinson advocates for a “Mercy Code” with guidelines for what kind of behavior begets mercy and to what extent mercy will change the ultimate outcome of the sentencing for the offender.321Id. (Robinson would like to see a “mercy code” along with a “criminal code”).

Reevaluating sentencing through the lens of forgiveness is not to say that punishment should be abandoned altogether, but that second look laws should be expanded. Robinson argues that to encourage mercy without any kind of limits would create mayhem,322Id. and I would argue that expanding forgiveness to avoid accountability would create a lack of order and improper incentives when it comes to crime. The research demonstrates that the “impulse to punish wrongdoing” is so deeply ingrained that most people would resist the abolition of all punishment.323Id. at 200. Additionally, the possibility of punishment serves to deter delinquency and a total lack of consequences could, and has, led to chaos in places that have experimented in this regard.324Id. See also Wilson, supra note 288; Lozano, supra note 288; Chakraborty, supra note 288. As suggested above, to maintain accountability but also allow systemic absolution, offenders would be given the opportunity to enter into deferred prosecution as a default measure which allows a defendant to change or face prosecution under the law.

 Conclusion

Communal absolution has been a fundamental part of societal practice throughout history, particularly in the criminal context. While some might be concerned that systemic absolution might undercut retributive justice that dominates modern criminal justice, its introduction could ameliorate the effects of an overly punitive system and make a meaningful dent in the United States’s mass incarceration problem. Forgiveness has an expansive history, particularly with ancient cultures that form the bedrock of criminal punishment theory. Many religions, including Christianity, Islam, Judaism, and Buddhism, employ some concept of absolution as a central part of their religious practice. Forgiveness also plays an integral role in individual mental health, while unforgiveness negatively impacts people’s overall well-being. While individual forgiveness is already part of our criminal justice system as a part of restorative justice, there has been no recognition of systemic absolution in modern criminal justice. Individual forgiveness in criminal justice currently includes clemency, expungement, apologies, the right of the victim to forgive, and restorative justice.

These are all important developments. However, without a move towards systemic forgiveness in criminal justice, the community continues to be burdened by the crimes of offenders long after they have been convicted and sentenced.325Peter Wagner & Bernadette Rabuy, Following the Money of Mass Incarceration, Prison Pol’y Initiative (Jan. 25, 2017), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/money [https://perma.cc/4ZEW-H3GE]. For example, the United States spends over $80 billion a year to run and maintain its public correctional agencies. This amount includes the costs to operate jails, prisons, juvenile detention centers, immigrant detention centers, probation, and parole programs at the federal, state, and local level. The amount of money each state spends each year for a single inmate varies drastically, averaging about $40,000, but reaching up to $307,000 a year. How Much Do States Spend on Prisoners?, USA Facts (Apr. 17, 2024), https://usafacts.org/articles/how-much-do-states-spend-on-prisons [https://perma.cc/5GSF-X7L5]. Systemic absolution, discussed above, might include expansion of sentencing reduction legislation, defaulting to deferred adjudication by prosecutors, and automatic expungement efforts after a certain period of time of avoiding crime. Currently, communities carry a heavy social burden resulting from mass incarceration. Families and communities are broken apart as fathers, mothers, and siblings are removed from their support systems. Disproportionate harm towards minority groups results from higher rates of crime and incarceration and resulting collateral consequences inflicting communities after prison.326Baughman, supra note 38, at 130; Monica C. Bell, Police Reform and the Dismantling of Legal Estrangement, 126 Yale L.J. 2054, 2057 (2017). Ultimately, distrust and hopelessness dominate criminal justice when punishment systems lack a system of absolution. Our current punishment structure envisions people as two-dimensional archetypes rather than complex human beings with inherent dignity. A person’s crime defines them indefinitely, limiting opportunities for change and holding them captive with societal stigma. Without a systemic mechanism recognizing that all of us collectively should not be punished perpetually for the worst thing we have done, society remains burdened by the weight of mass incarceration and punishment.

By incorporating systemic absolution into the criminal justice system, we can heal the many individuals who never receive justice—and even those who do—since the system has not proven to be effective at solving the underlying problems. Incorporating systemic forgiveness into our criminal justice system will also help society be more compassionate towards offenders and see “the full picture of their humanity,” unobscured by “their worst moment.”327Steinberg, supra note 7, at 60. As Robin Steinberg observes that “[e]ach one of us has done something that could be defined as criminal—driving home after a few too many drinks . . . or being less than truthful on a tax return . . . . Whether or not our crimes have landed us in the criminal justice system . . . none of us wants to be defined by our most shameful moment.”328Id. at xvii. Just as we do not want to be defined by these regrettable mistakes, neither do individuals who are incarcerated. Systemic absolution could expand healing for society as former offenders are given hope to live a normal life. Moving towards absolution in criminal justice provides helpful nomenclature for what is already happening when crime goes unpunished but allows for accountability in areas where societal priorities do not align with carceral outcomes. As past civilizations and religions have championed communal restitution,329Liz Mineo, A Plea for Mercy, Harvard Gazette (Dec. 9, 2019) https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2019/12/martha-minow-on-the-power-of-forgiveness [https://perma.cc/JX2R-MDM5] (“[W]e’ve created criminal . . . law to serve goals in the same way that every religion, every society, every civilization has promoted the development of apology, forgiveness, compensation, and restitution.”). systemic absolution has the power to transform criminal justice today.

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 41

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 *Woodruff Deem Professor of law at BYU Law and Distinguished Fellow at Wheatley Institute. This piece benefited from an earlier less developed presentation at the Stanford/Yale/Harvard Criminal faculty workshop. I am grateful for Benjamin Hill, Bonnie Stewart, Lane Gibbons, and Mason Spedding for research assistance as well as Kory Staheli and Erica Larsen for institutional support. I am grateful for the excellent editing by the Southern California Law Review staff particularly Christopher Shahverdian and Kevin Zhang.

Sleep Deprivation in Prison

Introduction

Human beings need sleep. We all know this. When we do not get enough sleep or when the sleep we get is repeatedly interrupted, our ability to function—to focus, to treat others appropriately, to respond effectively to life’s daily challenges—will be severely compromised. And these are just the effects we notice. Over the past decades, advances in sleep science have made clear just how necessary adequate sleep is to every dimension of human health. A chronic insufficiency of sleep increases the risk of, among other medical conditions, “obesity, diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and infections.”1Nat’l Inst. Health & Nat’l Heart, Lung & Blood Inst., U.S. Dep’t Health & Hum. Servs., Pub. No. 11-5271, Your Guide to Healthy Sleep 1 (2011), https://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/resources/your-guide-healthy-sleep [https://perma.cc/ZZR6-QF25]. As noted sleep scientist Matthew Walker puts it, “Every major system, tissue, and organ of your body suffers when sleep becomes short. . . . [T]he shorter your sleep, the shorter your life.”2Matthew Walker, Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams 164 (2018) (“Like water from a burst pipe in your home, the effects of sleep deprivation will seep into every nook and cranny of biology, down into your cells, even altering your most fundamental self—your DNA. . . . The leading causes of disease and death in developed nations— . . . such as heart disease, obesity, dementia, diabetes, and cancer—all have recognized causal links to a lack of sleep.”). And persistent inadequate sleep takes an equally great toll on mental health, exacerbating “all major psychiatric conditions, including depression, anxiety, and suicidality.”3Id. at 3.

For adults, the consensus recommendation is a minimum of seven hours of uninterrupted sleep per night; otherwise, the processes operating at each stage of the sleep cycle will be unable to perform their restorative work.4See Nathaniel F. Watson, M. Safwan Badr, Gregory Belenky, Donald L. Bliwise, Orfeu M. Buxton, Daniel Buysse, David F. Dinges, James Gangwisch, Michael A. Grandner, Clete Kushida, Raman K. Malhotra, Jennifer L. Martin, Sanjay R. Patel, Stuart F. Quan & Esra Tasali, Recommended Amount of Sleep for a Healthy Adult: A Joint Consensus Statement of the American Academy of Sleep Medicine and Sleep Research Society, 11 J. Clinical Sleep Med. 591, 592 (2015). It is no secret that many Americans from all walks of life routinely fail to meet this target. Judging from the size of the sleep aid market—an estimated $65 billion is spent annually in the United States alone5See Nicole F. Roberts, Despite $65 Billion a Year Sleep Aid Market, Americans Remain Sleep Deprived, Forbes (June 20, 2022, at 4:26 ET), https://www.forbes.com/sites/nicoleroberts/2022/03/20/despite-65-billion-a-year-sleep-aid-market-americans-remain-sleep-deprived [https://perma.cc/3AAC-6NBE].—access to financial resources is no guarantee of adequate sleep. Yet, as Keisha Ray observes, the more limited one’s access to the social determinants of health—including, among other things, “food security, stable housing,” and “the freedom to choose where and how we sleep”—the less well-slept a person is likely to be.6Keisha Ray, Black Health: The Social, Political, and Cultural Determinants of Black People’s Health 137 (2023). For example, parents of newborns or people with chronic insomnia will struggle to get sufficient sleep. But those who, in addition, lack access to a comfortable bed, adequate food, or the ability to control the ambient temperature will find it considerably harder. Access to adequate sleep, in other words, exists along a continuum, on which those lacking socioeconomic power and control over their physical environment are likely to experience a greater measure of sleep deprivation than society’s more privileged members.

This Article focuses on a group at the extreme end of this spectrum of disempowerment: those incarcerated in American prisons. Drawing on original data collected through in-depth, semi-structured interviews with people who served time in prisons all over the country, this Article maps the myriad overlapping conditions that systematically prevent people in prison from getting adequate sleep. Whether through luck, privilege, or their own affirmative choices, some people sometimes manage to get reasonably adequate sleep inside.7See infra text accompanying notes 402–05. But as my interviews show, most people in prison routinely sleep far less per night than the minimum seven hours that public health experts recommend.8See Appendix B, Table 6. And for just about everyone living in prison, the quality of the sleep they get is consistently poor. In this Article, I offer a detailed account of why this is so.

To my knowledge, this study represents the first systematic effort to understand a destructive and dehumanizing experience that, although an inherent feature of prison life, has gone almost entirely unnoticed even by those academics, advocates, and policymakers invested in ensuring humane carceral conditions.9The matter of sleep deprivation in prison began to receive some limited attention in the early 2020s. See, e.g., Michael L. Walker, Indefinite: Doing Time in Jail 191–96 (2022) (offering a brief but rich firsthand account of the multiple causes of sleep deprivation in jail, the substance of which lines up entirely with the findings reported here); Johanna E. Elumn, Gul Jana Saeed, Jenerius Aminawung, Nadine Horton, Hsiu-Ju Lin, H. Klar Yaggi & Emily A. Wang, The Sleep Justice Study – A Prospective Cohort Study Assessing Sleep as a Cardiometabolic Risk Factor After Incarceration: A Protocol Paper, BMC Pub. Health, Oct. 2023, at 1, 2 (mapping a research agenda for the study of sleep quality among a cohort of participants within three months of release from prison, to understand sleep quality and the risk factors for cardiovascular disease of long-term sleep deprivation in prison); Keri Blakinger & Shannon Heffernan, What It’s Like to Sleep in Prison: Moldy Mattresses, Bright Lights, Nonstop Noise, L.A. Times (Dec. 12, 2024, 3:00 PT), https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2024-12-12/sleep-dont-come-the-dangerous-problem-of-sleep-deprivation-behind-bars [https://perma.cc/S4DB-UCC3] (initial report on the problem of sleep in prison, co-published with The Marshall Project). Its conclusions are unambiguous: for a host of reasons explored in these pages, the incarcerated are chronically, perpetually sleep deprived—a condition they endure every single day, for years and sometimes even for decades.

The consequences of this situation are dire. Sleep deprivation compromises prisoners’10In this Article I will at times refer to incarcerated people as “prisoners,” a term that squarely acknowledges the “extraordinary and dehumanizing exercise of state power known as imprisonment[,]” Justin Driver & Emma Kaufman, The Incoherence of Prison Law, 135 Harv. L. Rev. 515, 525 (2021), and foregrounds the experience of being held against one’s will with no power to shape one’s own conditions of life. See Paul Wright, Language Matters: Why We Use the Words We Do, Prison Legal News (Nov. 1, 2021), https://www.prisonlegalnews.org/news/2021/nov/1/language-matters-why-we-use-words-we-do [https://perma.cc/5LF8-ZZ5P] (“[When people are incarcerated, they] are forced into cages at gun point and kept there upon pain of death should they try to leave. What are they if not prisoners? They did not somehow magically appear there and they stay there based on violence and fear of violence . . . .”). physical and mental health, making them age faster and die younger.11See infra Part I. It leaves people brittle, prone to frustration and anger, and without the cognitive resources to make good decisions, thus promoting conflict and violence in already volatile environments. And it strips them of the ability to think deeply and to exercise reasoned deliberation, capacities that are necessary for personal growth and healthy interpersonal bonds. Sleep is a basic human need, as vital to human survival and proper functioning as food, water, shelter, and personal safety. Yet persistent sleep deprivation—the product of what might be termed systematic sleep interference by the actors and institutions charged with administering carceral penalties—is a constitutive feature of life in custody. It heaps hardship, injury, and all manner of suffering on top of the formal punishment. And it represents a key, underappreciated reason why American carceral facilities are so noxious and inhumane.

Recognizing chronic sleep deprivation as a standard feature of prison life sheds new light on aspects of the carceral experience that have long seemed fixed and inescapable, including the high level of interpersonal tension, the pervasiveness of mental illness, and even the seemingly illogical willingness of people inside to put themselves into debt—a dangerous posture to adopt in prison—for the sake of a few candy bars or a bag of chips.12See infra Section III.B for more on the connection between hunger, sleep, and the importance of having access to commissary. In prison, moreover, residents are not the only ones unable to get enough sleep. Thanks to shiftwork and overtime (whether mandatory or voluntary), correctional officers (“COs”) too are chronically tired.13That correctional officers (“COs”) are also chronically tired was overwhelmingly confirmed in the forty-four interviews with current and former COs conducted as part of this study. See Sharon Dolovich, “Forever Tired”: Correctional Officers and Sleep (Jan. 6, 2025) (unpublished manuscript) (on file with the author) [hereinafter Dolovich, “Forever Tired”]. In short, in the often tense and high-octane environment of the prison, many if not most people in a facility at a given time, staff included, are wrestling with the debilitating effects of persistent sleep deprivation. This shared state of impairment cannot help but impact the functioning of the institution and poison interpersonal interactions between and among residents and staff.14Sleep deprivation is not the only source of volatility and instability in carceral facilities. But tired people are less able to accurately read social cues, more likely to perceive threats, and more inclined to manifest the sort of irritation, frustration, and resentment that can spark aggression in others (who, being in prison themselves, are also likely to be tired). As a result, pervasive fatigue in prison is likely to undermine prospects for calm and mutually respectful interactions and enhance the likelihood of conflict. For more on this effect, see infra notes 419–27 and accompanying text.

In future work, I will explore at greater length the implications of pervasive chronic tiredness on the character and operation of the modern American prison. I will also map the occupational health and safety effects on COs of a work schedule that often precludes anything close to sufficient sleep.15See Dolovich, “Forever Tired,” supra note 13. Here, I focus on the basic phenomenon of sleep deprivation as a constitutive feature of the prison experience for those we incarcerate—a feature that, I argue, is as central to the punitive character of a prison sentence as is grossly inadequate medical and mental health care, the use of solitary confinement, the risk of physical and sexual assault, and the threat of excessive force by COs.

Two additional introductory points: First, this project focuses primarily on prisons, where time served is measured in years and decades. Yet sleep deprivation is also a problem in jail.16Prisons, run by the state, exclusively hold people who have been convicted of crimes and sentenced to imprisonment for more than one year. Jails, run by municipalities and typically sited adjacent to courthouses, primarily house pretrial detainees. They also house, among others, people who are serving misdemeanor sentences of less than one year, people who have been convicted and are awaiting sentencing, and sentenced offenders awaiting transfer to prison. For the most part, stints in jail are relatively short when compared with prisons. See Danielle Kaeble, U.S. Dep’t of Just., NCJ 255662, Time Served in State Prison, 2018, at 1 (2021), https://bjs.ojp.gov/document/tssp18.pdf [https://perma.cc/5K9H-W2RE] (average state prison sentence is 2.7 years); Zhen Zeng, U.S. Dep’t of Just., NCJ 307086, Jail Inmates in 2022–Statistical Tables, at 1 (2023), https://bjs.ojp.gov/document/ji22st.pdf [https://perma.cc/WT2W-X7PT] (average jail stay is roughly thirty days). If anything, it is worse. All my interview subjects did jail time before winding up in prison. And they universally reported that, however hard it was to sleep in prison, it was exponentially harder to sleep in jail. In jail, people may be detoxing. They are on average younger, more impulsive, and generally lack familiarity with the code of respect that can prevail in prison among people with long sentences. The constant churn means that people are always surrounded by strangers, a situation certain to exacerbate fear. The majority of those in jail at any given time are pretrial and understandably anxious about their cases. There is no programming to speak of, and mental illnesses will mostly go untreated. The combined result of these dynamics is a cacophony of noise and disruption in the housing units that, I am told, never stops.17As one person who spent time in county jail in Missouri explained: “Most jails are typically far more crowded than prisons. They are also less controlled than prison and allow for screaming and yelling at all hours of the day. I was in a single room that held 68 inmates and the lights never went off. There were always those that would stay up every night and cause a ruckus. The guards never intervened unless there was a fight or some other clear violation. In fact, the night shift seemed to openly encourage raucous behavior probably in an attempt to keep awake themselves.” Email from Erik McInnis to author (Jan. 7, 2023) (on file with author); see also Interview with FI.39 at 12 (“[T]he [L.A. County] jail was infamous for people banging on the bunks or . . . making music . . . . [I]t was always constant yelling and screaming on the tier.”); Interview with FI.38 at 13 (“Rikers is . . . a madhouse. People are screaming all day.”); Interview with FI.17 at 15 (“The [D.C.] jail is like the wild, wild west. Anything goes.”); Walker, supra note 9, at 191–96. See infra note 81 for an explanation of the codes used to designate each interview. Among the troubling implications of this situation is that people detained pretrial routinely go to court exhausted, even to the point of falling asleep at counsel table during their trials.18The fatigue many pretrial detainees exhibit in court is exacerbated by the schedules they are forced to follow on court days. In some jails, those going to court will be woken up in the middle of the night, as early as 2:00 a.m. or 3:00 a.m., to allow the time required to transfer everyone from the jail to the various courthouses in the jurisdiction. Consequently, people can struggle to stay awake in court. This issue ought to be of concern for anyone committed to the principle that people being prosecuted should be able to fully participate in their own defense. I thank Ilya Novofastovsky for helpful conversation on this point. For most people, a stint in jail is relatively short. But even short periods of insufficient sleep can take a toll on physical and mental health. And for many people, a jail stay can last months or even years.19See, e.g., Email from Erik McInnis, supra note 17 (reporting that “in Missouri, sitting in jail for more than three years on a felony charge is common for those who do not take the plea deal”). For these reasons, much of what I say in this Article about sleep in prison should be taken to apply equally, if not more, to the context of jail.20See Walker, supra note 9, at 191–96. From reports coming out of immigration detention, it is clear that sleep is also next to impossible in ICE facilities. Rümeysa Öztürk described the experience this way:

During my time in the ICE prison, we rarely got a proper night’s rest. . . . The constant glare of fluorescent lighting made it almost impossible to doze off. Many officers marched through the area loudly, their chains and keys clattering, waking us at night with the booming sound of their walkie-talkies (except one officer, whom we frequently thanked for holding her key and chains so the sound would not disrupt us). Some officers woke all of us up at odd hours—as early as 3:30 a.m.—when they were only calling one person for work, or to check someone’s blood sugar or blood pressure. All we wanted was uninterrupted, peaceful sleep. Many of us were constantly on the verge of panic attacks and anxiety and had racing hearts. Yet many officers did not care about our sleep.

Rümeysa Öztürk, “Even God Cannot Hear Us Here”: What I Witnessed Inside an ICE Women’s Prison, Vanity Fair (July 17, 2025), https://www.vanityfair.com/news/story/rumeysa-ozturk-what-i-witnessed-inside-an-ice-womens-prison [https://perma.cc/WM94-JF6Q].

Second, that COs are also chronically sleep deprived equally demands our attention. As a basic ethical matter, we ought to care about the experiences of COs, fellow human beings tasked with doing an impossible and often traumatizing job under difficult and at times dangerous circumstances.21See, e.g., Eyal Press, Dirty Work: Essential Jobs and the Hidden Toll of Inequality in America 59–73 (2021) (describing the physical and psychological damage and moral injury experienced by COs as a result of the work they do); see also id. at 61 (reporting the impressions of Caterina Spinaris, a therapist who treats COs, who found that the “outpouring of unfiltered anguish” she heard from her CO patients “reminded her of her sessions with trauma victims”). The least we can do is ensure that they have the opportunity to get adequate sleep, and thus avoid the harms that may come to them and their families and communities if they do not. That staff routinely get insufficient sleep is also extremely salient for those living behind bars. When staff are sleep deprived, prisoners suffer.22For example, I heard repeatedly that when COs are tired, even prisoners’ reasonable requests can be met with a hostile and punitive response. As noted, in future work, I will investigate sleep deprivation among staff both as a matter of occupational health and safety and for its impact on the prison environment. I flag this issue now so that, by focusing here on the experience of sleep deprivation among the incarcerated, I do not create the impression that I imagine the problem to be exclusive to prisoners.

The argument of this Article proceeds as follows. Part I offers a short overview of the sleep science, focusing on the physiological and psychological harms and cognitive impairments traceable to insufficient sleep. Part II briefly describes the study parameters and methodology.23A more detailed account of the study methodology can be found in Appendix A. Parts III and IV represent the sociological heart of the Article, offering a thick description of the experience of trying to sleep while incarcerated. Part III describes the impact of a set of concrete conditions that systematically prevent people in prison from getting adequate sleep: uncomfortable beds, hunger, extremes of temperature, noise, and excessive light. Part IV identifies a set of what I call “meta-conditions”—specifically, fear of violence, trauma, poverty, overly-intrusive rules enforcement, and daily humiliations. These conditions, which likewise routinely compromise sleep, are also products of institutional choices, but they have been so naturalized to the life of the prison as to leave us blind both to their destructive effects and to their ultimately contingent character. Part V begins to explore the normative implications of the phenomenon identified here, including what it means for our understanding of prisons and of carceral punishment, the prospects for Eighth Amendment conditions claims grounded in sleep deprivation (and, very briefly, for claims of torture under international human rights law), and the policy challenges likely to confront efforts to address the problem. On each of these topics, there is much more that could be said. The goal here is to start the conversation.

I. A Brief Overview of the Sleep Science24Jack Stephens provided extensive research support for this portion of the Article, gathering and organizing the data and contributing immeasurably to the analysis. In terms of the sources relied on in the discussion, we prioritized studies appearing in the highest impact medical journals or in journals devoted exclusively to sleep. Where possible, we relied on studies with a high citation count written by leading researchers in the field. We also made a special effort to seek out meta-analyses. See Anna-Bettina Haidich, Meta-Analysis in Medical Research, Hippokratia, Dec. 2010, at 29, 29–30 (Supp. 1 2010) (Greece) (“Meta-analysis is a quantitative, formal, epidemiological study design used to systematically assess the results of previous research to derive conclusions about that body of research.”). Where no meta-analysis was available, we sought experimental studies with population samples with reasonable explanatory power for the prison context.

Over the past twenty-five years, the field of sleep science has exploded.25See David F. Dinges, Editorial, The Growth of Sleep Science and the Role of Sleep, 37 Sleep 7, 7 (2014) (explaining that, between 2003 and 2012, the number of “original science articles with ‘sleep’ as a keyword” doubled “to a total of 6,081” in 2012 and that during the same period, “the number of scientific journals with ‘sleep’ in the title also more than doubled worldwide”). Although the discipline is still developing, more than two decades of research strongly attests to the profound negative health effects—physical, psychological, and cognitive—of less-than-optimal sleep. Total sleep deprivation—enforced wakefulness over days—is “understood to be particularly detrimental.”26Deena N. Sharuk, No Sleep for the Wicked: A Study of Sleep Deprivation as a Form of Torture, 81 Md. L. Rev. 694, 724 n.194 (2022) (describing one study in which “ten lab rats [were subjected] to total sleep deprivation which led to the death or imminent death of all ten rats within eleven to thirty-two days”) (citing Carol A. Everson, Bernard M. Bergmann & Allan Rechtschaffen, Sleep Deprivation in the Rat: III. Total Sleep Deprivation, 12 Sleep 13, 13 (1989)). But interference with sleep need not be total to compromise physical and psychological health. Even people who regularly sleep five to six hours per night—considered “short sleepers” in the literature27See infra note 28.—exhibit notable adverse health effects, in some cases after only a few nights of restricted sleep.

Perhaps the most jarring finding to date has been confirmed in three separate meta-analyses. Encompassing studies comprising 1.32 million, 3.58 million, and 5.17 million subjects, respectively, all three investigations found short sleep duration28The studies on which these meta-analyses were based varied in their working definitions of short sleep, from a low of 4 hours per night to a high of 6.9 hours, with an average definition of 5.5 hours per night. See, e.g., Itani et al., infra note 29, at 250 tbl. 1 (column labeled “Definition of Short sleep duration (h)”). to be associated with an increased mortality risk of 12–13%.29See Jiawei Yin, Xiaoling Jin, Zhilei Shan, Shuzhen Li, Hao Huang, Peiyun Li, Xiaobo Peng, Zhao Peng, Kaifeng Yu, Wei Bao, Wei Yang, Xiaoyi Chen & Liegang Liu, Relationship of Sleep Duration with All-Cause Mortality and Cardiovascular Events: A Systematic Review and Dose-Response Meta-Analysis of Prospective Cohort Studies, J. Am. Heart Ass’n, Sept. 2017, at 1, 5; Osamu Itani, Maki Jike, Norio Watanabe & Yoshitaka Kaneita, Short Sleep Duration and Health Outcomes: A Systematic Review, Meta-Analysis, and Meta-Regression, 32 Sleep Med. 246, 249 (2017); Francesco P. Cappuccio, Lanfranco D’Elia, Pasquale Strazzullo & Michelle A. Miller, Sleep Duration and All-Cause Mortality: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis of Prospective Studies, 33 Sleep 585, 591 (2010). No single driver of this mortality effect has been identified. Instead, the data shows significant associations between short sleep and a host of serious medical conditions, including heart attack,30See Iyas Daghlas, Hassan S. Dashti, Jacqueline Lane, Krishna G. Aragam, Martin K. Rutter, Richa Saxena & Céline Vetter, Sleep Duration and Myocardial Infarction, 74 J. Am. Coll. Cardiol. 1304, 1304 (2019). hypertension,31See Daniel J. Gottlieb, Susan Redline, F. Javier Nieto, Carol M. Baldwin, Anne B. Newman, Helaine E. Resnick & Naresh M. Punjabi, Association of Usual Sleep Duration with Hypertension: The Sleep Heart Health Study, 29 Sleep 1009, 1009 (2006). cardiovascular disease, coronary heart disease, and stroke.32See Yin et al., supra note 29, at 1. Short sleep and sleep disturbance have been associated with an increased risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease,33Omonigho M. Bubu, Michael Brannick, James Mortimer, Ogie Umasabor-Bubu, Yuri V. Sebastião, Yi Wen, Skai Schwartz, Amy R. Borenstein, Yougui Wu, David Morgan & William M. Anderson, Sleep, Cognitive Impairment, and Alzheimer’s Disease: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis, 40 Sleep 1, 1 (2017); Le Shi, Si-Jing Chen, Meng-Ying Ma, Yan-Ping Bao, Ying Han, Yu-Mei Wang, Jie Shi, Michael V. Vitiello & Lin Lu, Sleep Disturbances Increase the Risk of Dementia: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis, 40 Sleep Med. Revs. 4, 4 (2018). as well as a host of metabolic disorders, including a heightened risk of insulin resistance,34Orfeu M. Buxton, Milena Pavlova, Emily W. Reid, Wei Wang, Donald C. Simonson & Gail K. Adler, Sleep Restriction for 1 Week Reduces Insulin Sensitivity in Healthy Men, 59 Diabetes 2126, 2126 (2010). obesity,35Gregor Hasler, Daniel J. Buysse, Richard Klaghofer, Alex Gamma, Vladeta Ajdacic, Dominique Eich, Wulf Rössler & Jules Angst, The Association Between Short Sleep Duration and Obesity in Young Adults: A 13-Year Prospective Study, 27 Sleep 661, 665 (2004); see also Itani et al., supra note 29, at 249, 254. metabolic syndrome,36Imran H. Iftikhar, Meredith A. Donley, Jesse Mindel, Adam Pleister, Sheryll Soriano & Ulysses J. Magalang, Sleep Duration and Metabolic Syndrome: An Updated Dose-Risk Metaanalysis, 12 Ann. Am. Thorac. Soc’y 1364, 1364 (2015). Metabolic syndrome is a “cluster of conditions that occur together,” including “increased blood pressure, high blood sugar, excess body fat around the waist, and abnormal cholesterol or triglyceride levels.” Metabolic Syndrome, Yale Med., https://www.yalemedicine.org/clinical-keywords/metabolic-syndrome [https://perma.cc/29HA-LFWS]. Those with this condition face an elevated “risk of heart disease, stroke and type 2 diabetes.” Metabolic Syndrome, Mayo Clinic, https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/metabolic-syndrome/symptoms-causes/syc-20351916 [https://perma.cc/JPC3-CSQ7]. and Type 2 diabetes.37Zhilei Shan, Hongfei Ma, Manling Xie, Peipei Yan, Yanjun Guo, Wei Bao, Ying Rong, Chandra L. Jackson, Frank B. Hu & Liegang Liu, Sleep Duration and Risk of Type 2 Diabetes: A Meta-Analysis of Prospective Studies, 38 Diabetes Care 529, 534 (2015); see also James E. Gangwisch, Steven B. Heymsfield, Bernadette Boden-Albala, Ruud M. Buijs, Felix Kreier, Thomas G. Pickering, Andrew G. Rundle, Gary K. Zammit & Dolores Malaspina, Sleep Duration as a Risk Factor for Diabetes Incidence in a Large U.S. Sample, 30 Sleep 1667, 1670 (2007); Francesco P. Cappuccio, Pasquale Strazzullo, Lanfranco D’Elia & Michelle A. Miller, Quantity and Quality of Sleep and Incidence of Type 2 Diabetes: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis, 33 Diabetes Care 414, 416 (2010). Insufficient sleep has also been found to cause imbalances in the autonomic nervous system, the indicia of which include increased heart rate,38See Julia Schlagintweit, Naima Laharnar, Martin Glos, Maria Zemann, Artem V. Demin, Katharina Lederer, Thomas Penzel & Ingo Fietze, Effects of Sleep Fragmentation and Partial Sleep Restriction on Heart Rate Variability During Night, Sci. Reps., Apr. 2023, at 1, 6. elevated cortisol levels,39See Karine Spiegel, Rachel Leproult & Eve Van Cauter, Impact of Sleep Debt on Metabolic and Endocrine Function, 354 Lancet 1435, 1438 (1999). decreased heart rate variability,40See Bonpei Takase, Takashi Akima, Kimio Satomura, Fumitaka Ohsuzu, Takemi Mastui, Masayuki Ishihara & Akira Kurita, Effects of Chronic Sleep Deprivation on Autonomic Activity by Examining Heart Rate Variability, Plasma Catecholamine, and Intracellular Magnesium Levels, Biomed. & Pharmacother., October 2004, at S35, S35 (Supp. 1 2004); see also Andrea N. Goldstein & Matthew P. Walker, The Role of Sleep in Emotional Brain Function, 10 Ann. Rev. Clin. Psych. 679, 683 (2014). and increased levels of norepinephrine.41See Takase et al., supra note 40, at S37 (explaining that increases in norepinephrine are associated with “chronic stress”). Among other adverse physiological effects, this collection of symptoms increases the risk of cardiovascular disease and represents a predictive marker for “sudden cardiac death.”42Id. at S37–S38.

Sleep deprivation has also been found to generate adverse psychological effects. For example, sympathetic bias in the operation of the autonomic nervous system has been linked with conditions indicating “emotional dysregulation, such as anxiety, depression, and rigid attentional processing of threat.”43Bradley M. Appelhans & Linda J. Luecken, Heart Rate Variability as an Index of Regulated Emotional Responding, 10 Rev. Gen. Psych. 229, 237 (2006). Persistent sleep disturbance is consistently associated with a heightened risk of developing major psychiatric disorders, including depression, anxiety, and suicidality.44Numerous studies show a correlation between sleep disturbance and suicidal ideation and attempt. And at least one large study found that sleep disturbance was “predictive of suicidality in most cases even after controlling for diagnoses of depression, anxiety disorders, and substance use disorders.” Marcin Wojnar, Mark A. Ilgen, Julita Wojnar, Ryan J. McCammon, Marcia Valenstein & Kirk J. Brower, Sleep Problems and Suicidality in the National Comorbidity Survey Replication, 43 J. Psychiatric Rsch. 526, 528 (2009). This study found that “[m]ultiple sleep complaints particularly increased the risk of 12-month suicidality” and that people “with two or more types of sleep symptoms”—including “difficulty initiating sleep, maintaining sleep [and] early morning awaking . . . were about 2.6 times more likely to report a suicide attempt than those without any insomnia complaints.” Id. at 526–28. Another “large population based study” found that sleep problems could be an important marker for suicide risk and that “[s]leep disturbance appeared to have a stronger influence on suicide risk in people not taking sleep medication.” Johan Håkon Bjørngaard, Ottar Bjerkeset, Pål Romundstad & David Gunnell, Sleeping Problems and Suicide in 75,000 Norwegian Adults: A 20 Year Follow-Up of the HUNT I Study, 34 Sleep, 1155, 1158 (2011). Given that people in prison are virtually never prescribed medication promoting sleep, this latter finding may be especially significant in a prison setting. Concerning depression, one major meta-analysis, incorporating research from twenty-one qualifying studies, found that “nondepressed subjects” who experienced “difficulties in initiating/maintaining sleep or non-restorative sleep”45Chiara Baglioni, Gemma Battagliese, Bernd Feige, Kai Spiegelhalder, Christoph Nissen, Ulrich Voderholzer, Caterina Lombardo & Dieter Riemann, Insomnia as a Predictor of Depression: A Meta-Analytic Evaluation of Longitudinal Epidemiological Studies, 135 J. Affect. Disord. 10, 12 (2011). have “a twofold risk to develop depression, compared to people with no sleep difficulties.”46Id. at 16; see also Daniel E. Ford & Douglas B. Kamerow, Epidemiologic Study of Sleep Disturbances and Psychiatric Disorders: An Opportunity for Prevention?, 262 JAMA 1479, 1479 (1989) (finding that “[t]he risk of developing new major depression was much higher in those who had insomnia at both interviews compared with those without insomnia”); Mariana Szklo-Coxe, Terry Young, Paul E. Peppard, Laurel A. Finn & Ruth M. Benca, Prospective Associations of Insomnia Markers and Symptoms with Depression, 171 Am. J. Epidemiol. 709, 714 (2010). Research also indicates a greater likelihood of mental health issues among those who experience sleep disturbance over time. One early study found that respondents with persistent sleep disturbance “had significantly higher rates of new cases of both major depression and anxiety disorders compared with those whose insomnia resolved.”47Ford & Kamerow, supra note 46, at 1483; see also id. at 1484 (“[I]n this analysis the resolution of sleep disturbance was associated with decreased incidence of new psychiatric disorders.”). Other studies have begun to map the link between sleep disturbance and the symptoms of bipolar disorder.48See, e.g., Allison G. Harvey, Adriane M. Soehner, Kate A. Kaplan, Kerrie Hein, Jason Lee, Jennifer Kanady, Descartes Li, Sophia Rabe-Hesketh, Terence A. Ketter, Thomas C. Neylan & Daniel J. Buysse, Treating Insomnia Improves Mood State, Sleep, and Functioning in Bipolar Disorder: A Pilot Randomized Controlled Trial, 83 J. Consult. & Clin. Psych. 564, 565 (2015). There is even some evidence suggesting that sleep disturbance increases proneness to substance use disorder.49See, e.g., Naomi Breslau, Thomas Roth, Leon Rosenthal, & Patricia Andreski, Sleep Disturbance and Psychiatric Disorders: A Longitudinal Epidemiological Study of Young Adults, 39 Biol. Psychiatry 411, 416 (1996) (finding that a history of either insufficient or excessive sleep (insomnia or hypersomnia) “signaled an increased risk for new onset of major depression, illicit drug use disorder, and nicotine dependence”); Kirk J. Brower & Brian E. Perron, Sleep Disturbance as a Universal Risk Factor for Relapse in Addictions to Psychoactive Substances, 74 Med. Hypotheses 928, 929 (2010) (noting that “[t]he evidence that sleep disturbance is linked to relapse is strongest for alcohol dependence,” but offering grounds for thinking the same dynamic holds for those addicted to other “psychoactive substances,” including amphetamines, cocaine, and opioids).

Inadequate sleep also compromises cognitive functioning—and the more sleep deprived a person is, the greater the cognitive effect.50Paula Alhola & Päivi Polo-Kantola, Sleep Deprivation: Impact on Cognitive Performance, 3 Neuropsychiatr. Dis. & Treat. 553, 560 (2007). Multiple well-controlled studies have demonstrated the impact of sleep deprivation on the capacity for vigilance, working memory, and sustained attention, with one experimental study finding that “chronic restriction of sleep to [six] h[ours] or less per night produced cognitive performance deficits equivalent to up to two nights of total sleep deprivation.”51See Hans P.A. Van Dongen, Greg Maislin, Janet M. Mullington & David F. Dinges, The Cumulative Cost of Additional Wakefulness: Dose-Response Effects on Neurobehavioral Functions and Sleep Physiology from Chronic Sleep Restriction and Total Sleep Deprivation, 26 Sleep 117, 117 (2003); see also Jeffrey S. Durmer & David F. Dinges, Neurocognitive Consequences of Sleep Deprivation, 25 Semin. Neurol. 117, 123 (2005). Sleep deprivation also slows reaction time and compromises performance in the completion of cognitive tasks.52Julian Lim & David F. Dinges, Sleep Deprivation and Vigilant Attention, 1129 Ann. N.Y. Acad. Sci. 305, 307–09, 313 fig. 4 (2008). When sleep restriction is chronic, these cognitive defaults are cumulative,53Siobhan Banks & David F. Dinges, Behavioral and Physiological Consequences of Sleep Restriction, 3 J. Clin. Sleep Med. 519, 522 (2007) (reviewing recent literature); see also S.M. Doran, H.P.A. Van Dongen & D.F. Dinges, Sustained Attention Performance During Sleep Deprivation: Evidence of State Instability, 139 Arch. Ital. Biol. 253, 263 (2001) (Italy). and when people routinely sleep less than seven hours per night, the resulting cognitive impairments are as marked as in those experiencing “severe acute total sleep deprivation.”54Banks & Dinges, supra note 53, at 526.

Finally, sleep deprivation impairs one’s ability to successfully navigate stressful or frustrating situations. These effects are evident after just one night of inadequate sleep. As Andrea Goldstein and Matthew Walker put it in their survey of the field, even “one night of experimentally controlled sleep loss increases subjective reports of stress, anxiety and anger in response to low-stress situations and increases impulsivity towards negative stimuli.”55Goldstein & Walker, supra note 40, at 681 (citing Jared D. Minkel, Siobhan Banks, Oo Htaik, Marisa C. Moreta, Christopher W. Jones, Eleanor L. McGlinchey, Norah S. Simpson & David F. Dinges, Sleep Deprivation and Stressors: Evidence for Elevated Negative Affect in Response to Mild Stressors When Sleep Deprived, 12 Emotion 1015, 1019 (2012); Clare Anderson & Charlotte R. Platten, Sleep Deprivation Lowers Inhibition and Enhances Impulsivity to Negative Stimuli, 217 Behav. Brain Rsch. 463, 463 (2011)). Insufficient sleep is also “associated with a lack of flexibility and capacity to respond to emotional challenges,” and thus with a decrease in emotional resilience.56Goldstein & Walker, supra note 40, at 683; see also Appelhans & Luecken, supra note 43, at 230. Together, these emotional regulatory failures undermine the capacities necessary if one is to get along with others. In one study, researchers showed that sleep deprivation was “associated with increased outward expression of aggressive responses and a greater tendency to assign blame to others when confronted with frustrating situations.”57Ellen T. Kahn-Greene, Erica L. Lipizzi, Amy K. Conrad, Gary H. Kamimori & William D.S. Killgore, Sleep Deprivation Adversely Affects Interpersonal Responses to Frustration, 41 Pers. & Individ. Dif. 1433, 1439 (2006). Subjects tended towards “antagonistic, self-serving, and uncooperative behavioral responses, such as increased blame and hostility, reduced willingness to make concessions and restitutions, and a general increase in atypical or impulsive responses, all of which are antithetical to harmonious interpersonal relations.”58Id. at 1440.

The aim here is not to provide a comprehensive account of all relevant findings related to the negative health effects of sleep deprivation. The field is too vast to make such a goal workable. The point is rather to make clear that interference with sleep is not simply a matter of losing access to the “creature comforts” widely considered inconsistent with carceral penalties. Chronic sleep deprivation carries an increased risk of physiological harm, early mortality, and a range of psychopathological effects. It takes a toll on cognitive functioning and on a person’s capacity for prosocial interpersonal interaction. To the extent that prison systematically impedes a person’s ability to sleep over months, years, and even decades, this feature of a prison sentence can inflict substantial long-term damage. This brings us to the central question of this Article: How much and how well do people sleep in prison?

II. The Study59For a more detailed description of the study methodology, see Appendix A.

In prison, it is virtually impossible for people to get the recommended minimum seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. On most nights, most people inside will get only four to six hours60See infra Appendix B, Table 6. of light sleep punctuated by frequent interruptions—a pattern that persists night after night, for years.

This is the unmistakable conclusion that emerged from over seventy‑four hours of interviews I conducted in 2023 with thirty-nine people61Collectively, my interview subjects spent a total of 645 years in prison and jail. For more detail, see Appendix B, Table 3. formerly incarcerated in American prisons nationwide.62 All but one of these interviews took place in two waves in 2023, from January 10 to March 17, and from June 10 to July 24. The exception is one ad hoc interview I did on November 1, 2024. In this Article, I also cite to several interviews with COs conducted as part of this study. I did my first CO interview on December 20, 2022, and my last CO interview on January 14, 2024. The remainder took place in 2023, again in two waves, from January 21 to February 8 and from June 12 to July 19. I personally conducted all the FI interviews, which form the backbone of this Article. Of the forty-four interviews with COs, I personally conducted thirty-three. The remaining eleven CO interviews were conducted, after a period of training, by my research associate Ginny Oshiro. I am deeply grateful to her for her help with this key part of the project. Of these thirty-nine interviews, thirty-five were formal, semi-structured interviews based around a questionnaire with roughly 200 questions,63The questionnaire is available upon request. For a more detailed account of the research methodology, see Appendix A. with the average interview lasting just under two hours.64The average interview length was one hour and fifty-six minutes. For more detail, see Appendix B, Table 6. Subjects were asked about their experiences of sleeping/trying to sleep in prison, the factors that may have prevented them from getting adequate sleep inside, and the ways their own persistent sleep deprivation—or that of staff or other residents—may have affected their daily lives while incarcerated. In addition, I conducted four somewhat more freeform on-the-record conversations (labeled “ad hoc” or “AH” interviews to distinguish them from the more formal interviews) with subjects who were outside the study parameters for the formal interviews, but whose insights and experiences promised to provide valuable perspective and context. During these conversations, I asked many of the same questions I asked during the formal interviews. In the end, much of what I heard in all my interviews, ad hoc interviews included, proved remarkably uniform. As a result, I wound up drawing on all thirty-nine interviews when analyzing the data.65The ad hoc interviews covered much of the same ground as the more formal interviews, and where relevant, I have included excerpts from these interviews in the body of this Article. When quoting from these interviews, I signal the difference via the codes randomly assigned to each person: FI.# for those in the formal group, and AH FI.# for the ad hoc interviews. (FI stands for “formerly incarcerated.”).

With one exception, each interview subject had spent at least four years in prison.66The exception was one ad hoc interviewee who had served three years. The average length of incarceration among my interviewees was thirteen and a half years,67See Appendix B, Table 6. with fourteen individuals in the sample having served more than twenty years and eight serving more than twenty-five years. In terms of jurisdictional diversity, eighteen interviewees served time in four states: California (five), New Jersey (five), New York (four), and Louisiana (four). Between them, the remaining twenty-one participants had experience of prisons in fourteen other geographically diverse states plus the federal Bureau of Prisons.68For the jurisdictional breakdown of my sample, see Appendix B, Table 3.

Everyone I interviewed was incarcerated in multiple prisons over the course of their confinement. This broad experience proved valuable in two ways. First, it allowed me to learn about conditions in many more facilities than I had interview subjects. Collectively, my interview subjects did time in at least 185 separate institutions,69Among these facilities were eleven privately-run prisons situated in six states. See Appendix B, Table 3. including 126 state prisons, 18 federal prisons, 33 jails,70All members of my sample spent time in jail, some in more than one. But in some cases, they did not name the facility, so those institutions are not included in this calculation. and 8 youth detention centers.71I did not set out to interview people with experience in juvenile detention (although my guess is that youth facilities exhibit many of the same dynamics as those catalogued in this Article, and likely to an even greater degree). The youth facilities I heard about in the interviews were described by interview subjects who volunteered that they had spent time in juvenile detention, in some cases in jurisdictions with separate facilities for people who, although below the age of eighteen when they committed their crimes, were tried and convicted as adults. In those cases, the individuals I spoke to eventually aged out and were transferred to adult facilities to serve the remainder of their sentences. By speaking to thirty-nine people, I was thus able to hear firsthand about conditions in 8.5% of all prisons in the United States, including 8% of state prisons and 18% of federal prisons.72As of March 2025, there were 1,566 state prisons and 98 federal prisons in the United States. See Wendy Sawyer & Peter Wagner, Mass Incarceration: The Whole Pie 2025, Prison Pol’y Initiative (Mar. 11, 2025), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/pie2025.html [https://perma.cc/MYX3-526J]. Second, it meant that virtually everyone was able to compare conditions among institutions. Although the interviews revealed some notable regional variation, perhaps most striking was just how nationally uniform were experiences bearing on sleep—with any jurisdictional differences for the most part proving more a matter of degree than kind.

In terms of race, my interview sample self-identified as follows: 15 Black (38%), 13 White (33%), 7 Hispanic (18%), 1 Asian (3%), 1 Native American (3%), and 2 mixed race73These two participants self-identified as White/Asian and Hispanic/Italian. (6%). The goal was to replicate as nearly as possible the racial distribution of the American prison population, and in the end, I came close.74See Appendix B, Table 1. As for gender, four of my thirty-nine interview subjects were housed in women’s prisons, comprising 10% of the total,75See Appendix B, Table 2. with the remainder doing their time in men’s prisons.76This group included one trans woman, who did her time in facilities for men. When she was sentenced, it was standard practice to house people according to their genitalia, which meant that trans prisoners who had not yet had gender reassignment surgery would automatically be housed according to the gender assigned to them at birth. In 2012, the U.S. Department of Justice promulgated regulations directing corrections agencies to make housing determinations for trans prisoners on a case-by-case basis, giving “serious consideration” to the individual’s “own views with respect to his or her own safety.” 28 C.F.R. § 115.42(c), (e) (2012). Despite this change, my interview subject served her full sentence in men’s facilities. These numbers also came close to the gender breakdown of the American prison population overall.77See Appendix B, Table 2

It would be impossible to reproduce in full the richness of the narratives the interviews yielded. Instead, in what follows, I distill the key points that emerged around the experience of sleeping in prison and the conditions that impede sleep. In part, the power of the methodology employed—the long-form, semi-structured interview—is the degree of confidence it can afford in the accuracy of what one hears when the same thing is reported by multiple subjects in a diverse sample.78See Ashley T. Rubin, Rocking Qualitative Social Science: An Irreverent Guide to Rigorous Research 150 (2021) (discussing the idea of saturation in interview-based studies, a threshold that is reached when, “[e]ven though [the group is diverse], most people are answering a particular question—one that you really care about—pretty much the same way,” and explaining that, at this point, “the consistency is pretty clear” and “you might have enough data [to speak confidently on that point and what it suggests]”). On this measure, confidence is warranted as to many of the topics covered in my interviews, which yielded a high degree of consistency despite the diversity of the sample across, among other factors, race, gender, jurisdiction, housing configuration, and security level.79See Appendix B, Tables 1–5. Where my interviews revealed variation as to a particular issue or experience, I indicate as much in the text.

To my knowledge, this is the first study to attempt to capture what it is like to try to sleep in prison in the United States. The goal here is to begin to excavate a phenomenon that has to this point eluded scrutiny, despite the centrality of sleep—and, it appears, sleep deprivation—to the American carceral experience. Inevitably, some relevant aspects will remain unaddressed. One central contribution of this work is to provide an initial account that may be built out through future research.

III.  Findings I: Carceral Conditions Impeding Sleep in Prison

In this Part, I describe specific, discrete conditions persistently impeding the ability of people to sleep in prison. Representing features of the physical plant (e.g., lighting, HVAC, beds, and bedding) and institutional operations (e.g., housing configurations, methods of conducting count and security checks, mealtimes), they are of the sort typically considered appropriate targets for more conventional policy reform. Of these sleep-compromising conditions, two categories—beds and bedding, and food and hunger—appear from my interviews to be experienced across the board by pretty much everyone, regardless of security level, jurisdiction, or any other factors. A further set of conditions—those salient during periods of extreme heat or cold—impact people differently depending on region and time of year. Finally, two other issues—noise and excessive light—are experienced differently depending on a range of factors, including housing configuration, security level, staff behavior, and the happenstance of the unit in which one is housed and where one’s bunk is located.

In what follows, I explore each factor in turn, describing how each impacts the ability of people to sleep in prison. But this approach carries a risk, as it makes it seem as if the culprit is exclusively poor system design. To some extent this is so, and for this reason, implementing changes on the ground is one obvious policy response to the findings reported here. At the same time, this focus on concrete institutional arrangements risks obscuring a deeper, more pernicious truth, one that I address in more detail in Part IV. There, I explore a second set of carceral conditions—termed “meta-conditions”—which more directly reflect the prison’s toxic moral foundations and COs’ consequent blindness to the humanity of those in their custody. If prison officials cannot see the people in the beds at night as human beings who need sleep to survive and properly function, they will not act, or run the prisons, in ways that protect and promote adequate sleep. And sure enough, in American prisons, they do not.80These moral blinders among prison administrators and line staff have multiple causes, including the normative design of American prisons, which systematically demonize and dehumanize people in custody, and sleep deprivation among COs themselves, which compromises their ability to recognize the humanity and thus the basic human needs of the incarcerated. See Sharon Dolovich, Excessive Force in Prison, 114 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 415, 425–35 (2024) (mapping the psychological process by which COs come to regard and treat the incarcerated as subhuman); Dolovich, “Forever Tired”, supra note 13 (making the case that, thanks to the demands of shift work and mandated overtime, COs too are often chronically sleep deprived).

A. Uncomfortable Beds/Bedding/Mattresses

In prison, the construction and nature of the beds and bedding alone would be enough to keep most people from getting decent sleep. The beds are rock hard—typically just a metal or concrete slab—and so narrow and short that people who are taller or heavier than average often will not fit. “Mattresses” are nothing more than thin pads covered with a rubbery plastic that is sticky in the heat and cracks in the cold. But equally if not more disruptive of sleep is the construction of the bunkbeds, the main sleeping configuration for people in prison. Bunkmates feel and are disturbed by every slight movement, which, depending on how people get along, can make sleeping a stressful experience for those afraid to spark conflict simply by turning over. For this reason, or simply out of respect for a bunkmate’s sleep, those on top bunks may hesitate to leave their beds at night even to urinate. Not only do those who try risk waking frustrated bunkmates who are themselves desperate for sleep, but the high likelihood of disrupting their neighbor’s personal property as they try to get in and out of their bunks in the dark while half asleep generates further stress and potential conflict. None of this is conducive to enabling sleep.

In prison, the beds are “rock hard.”81Interview with FI.28 at 16. Each interview subject was assigned a random code number, and each interview transcript is designated as FI.#, with FI standing for “formerly incarcerated,” and the # indicating the randomly assigned code. Throughout this Article, when quoting from interviews, I follow the standard practice of deleting placeholder words (such as “you know,” “like,” and “um”) and words repeated twice (unless intended for effect), as well as correcting grammatical infelicities. In cases where I insert words for readability, I indicate as much by bracketing any added text. For the most part, the design is the same: metal frames with a solid concrete or metal pallet—a “large . . . piece of sheet metal with four legs bolted to it.”82Interview with FI.14 at 18. They are also narrow, so “[y]ou[’ve] got to train yourself to sleep in this small space and not roll over . . . onto the floor.”83Interview with FI.34 at 22. People who are bigger or taller than average have an especially hard time. For those who are overweight, it can be “hard to turn over . . . because the beds are small.”84Interview with FI.20 at 24; see also Walker v. Schult, 717 F.3d 119, 121 (2d Cir. 2013) (raising, among other conditions in a complaint alleging prolonged sleep deprivation, the fact that Walker, who was “6’4” tall and weigh[ed] 255 pounds, was assigned” to a top bunk “only twenty-eight inches wide . . . which forced Walker to sleep on his side; rotating back and forth” (internal quotation marks omitted)). One person, who at one point weighed 330 pounds, described how he needed to “lift up and flop” to turn over “[b]ecause you can’t roll. If I roll, I’m going [to wind up on] the floor.”85Interview with FI.27 at 39. Those who are tall have a different problem. One especially tall person “had to sleep on the bottom bunk with his feet on the toilet.”86Interview with FI.23 at 59. Another “big guy,” the cellmate of an interviewee, “had to sleep [in] reverse [of] the normal way so his feet could hang off the edge of the bed.”87Interview with FI.19 at 4. To do this, “he had to tuck his head underneath the shelf” which would ordinarily be at the foot of the bed.88Id. This caused problems because “if anything happened real quick,” he would “bump[] his head on the shelf.” Id. at 4–5.

Were the mattresses sufficiently thick and springy, the concrete or metal pallets might not cause problems. This, however, is not the case. Each time I asked about mattresses, I was treated to the same visual representation,89Recall that the interviews were on Zoom. with people using thumb and index finger to indicate roughly three to four inches, or five inches at most. And this was when mattresses were new. As one person explained, “at one point they were about four or five inches thick, but then . . . as time[] went on, the middle part bec[ame] smaller . . . [and] at some points, it can become nothing more than two pieces of fabric.”90Interview with FI.21 at 18. The thinness of the mattresses was an issue for everyone: “you’re sleeping pretty much on metal,”91Interview with FI.16 at 6. and “you’re gonna feel that iron underneath you every frickin night.”92Interview with FI.35 at 25; see also Interview with FI.13 at 25 (“[T]he quality of the mattresses didn’t let you get a good night’s rest . . . .”). Many people reported experiencing perpetual discomfort, with each night an ordeal of tossing and turning. The hardness of the mattresses was “difficult on your back, so you wind up with back problems”93Interview with FI.12 at 21. or “sciatic nerve damage.”94Interview with FI.14 at 21. In some cases, people reported such problems persisting after release.95See, e.g., Interview with FI.17 at 43 (“I think I’m still suffering joint damage. . . . [In prison,] I used to lay on my left side all the time . . . [and now] I have bad circulation on my left side.”); Interview with FI.19 at 8 (“Your body is just so sore, your shoulders, your hips. Even to this day, on a perfectly fine mattress, my hips go numb because that’s what would happen in prison all the time. So I feel like it’s caused . . . lasting damage.”).

The mattresses’ material also causes problems. The covers are a plastic, rubbery substance to which bodies stick, especially on hot nights.96In my CO interviews, I asked one person why she thought the mattresses were like this. Her answer: “[S]ecurity. [The mattresses are covered with] this really thick, kind of rubbery [material], like canvas. And I think that’s so you can’t open them to . . . hide anything inside of them.” Interview with AH CO.11 at 28. One person described preferring to “sleep on the middle piece of steel,” because on the mattress he “would feel the heat and the sweat.”97Interview with FI.23 at 23. Even on temperate nights, the rubbery material was unpleasant to the touch. One could cover the mattress with a sheet, but the “vinylized rubber” material “will [still] make you very hot and sweaty.”98Interview with FI.28 at 19. And as the mattresses age, “the plastic [gets] all cracked and ripped,” and “the person who slept in it before you [was] sweating [so] it gets moldy—the foam holds the mold, and you can smell it.”99Interview with FI.19 at 9; see also Letter from Freddie Fernando Wortham to the author (Apr. 24, 2025) (on file with author) (including, among a list of “obstacles to getting adequate sleep” while incarcerated, “bedding: mattress size, old, stench, as well as the fact that we are subjected to sleeping on a steel slab”). Replacing bedding, including mattresses, is at the COs’ discretion. As one person put it, “[y]ou could request a new mattress, and depending upon the officer . . . on duty at the time, he’ll put your request through, or he’ll just toss it into the garbage can or run it through the shredder.”100Interview with FI.24 at 10.

Blankets are generally thin: “[S]ummer blanket[s]” are “the lowest quality of . . . cotton”101Interview with FI.7 at 44.—“more like fish nets, . . . maybe crocheted or something but . . . they weren’t solid, so air can go through it.”102Interview with FI.10 at 12. Whatever the ambient temperature, people tend to be allocated one blanket only.103In some facilities, people with means are able to purchase their own sheets and blankets, and in some cases even their own mattresses. See Interview with FI.28 at 16–17. For more on the interaction between sleep and poverty in prison, see infra Section IV.C. As for pillows, most prisons appear not to supply them. In many places, the best one might get is a pillowcase, which allows for handmade pillows stuffed with “hoodies and sweatpants.”104Interview with FI.38 at 36; see also Interview with FI.33 at 37 (“I used to have to put my clothes up under my [head as a] handmade pillow.”). This approach does not afford a comfortable sleep. If pillows are supplied, they “could be hard as a rock or . . . flat as a pancake.”105Interview with FI.24 at 12. As one person with a gift for metaphor put it: “[T]he pillows you’re sleeping on . . . might as well stack a couple sheets of paper together and put your head on that.”106Interview with FI.16 at 6–7. In some prisons, the mattresses came with “a little bump at one end that was supposed to be a pillow. . . . [A]n inch high or something.”107Interview with FI.9 at 19. When I asked if that did the trick, people just scoffed.

Then there is the fact that people largely sleep on double bunks that share a metal frame.108Some dorm settings may have single beds, as do some in administrative segregation (“ad seg”) units. But most people in prison sleep on double bunks. It is hard to overstate how much this arrangement compromises sleep. When the beds are connected this way, you feel every movement the other person makes. Being “crummy old metal bunks,” they “move and squeak a lot,” which means “you’re going to wake up when your bunkmate gets up or even just moves around.”109Interview with FI.9 at 20. When people put their weight on the bed, it is not unusual for the flat metal of the pallet to dip slightly and then make a loud pop when the weight is lifted.110Interview with FI.27 at 40 (explaining that, when the steel bed buckles under a person’s weight, “when the person rolls over up there, the part . . . where the weight was . . . [is] gonna pop back up. Boom!”). People described strategizing ways to shift position in bed that would not make noise, and even staying put rather than, say, getting up to urinate, out of a desire not to disturb their cellmate. Even the ordinary movement of a restless sleep could prevent a bunkmate from sleeping. One person described an instance when he was in terrible pain from a toothache, “I would wake up in the middle of [the] night, I’m like [makes a face like in pain, moving head around], but I would make sure I wouldn’t toss and turn too much [out of] respect for my cell[mate] . . . so he gets his sleep.”111Interview with FI.23 at 34–35. Disturbing a cellmate or neighbors in the dorms at night can be a serious source of friction “[s]o it was very important to be quiet.”112Interview with FI.21 at 20; see Interview with FI.33 at 31 (“If I had to go to the bathroom and then this dude [was] down here [on the bottom bunk] asleep, I would try to be more careful on getting down and not waking him up.”). The burden on sleep here is twofold: people hesitate to make adjustments that would help them fall (back) asleep, and they experience stress at the thought of disturbing a frustrated, sleep-deprived cellmate. The physiological effects of this stress alone can cut against achieving the relaxed state that sleep requires.

In some prisons, bunks are not attached to one another but only to the wall. Although these bunks “weren’t as sensitive, they definitely still connected through the ladder and everything. So . . . one hundred percent you could feel it” when the other person moved in bed.113Interview with FI.19 at 26. And with beds connected to the wall, the bed of “the person in the cell next to you” may be connected through the same wall, “so when that person moved, your bed moves.”114Interview with FI.1 at 27. As FI.30 explained, “[I]magine . . . you have two cells. . . . [In] the left-hand cell, the bunk beds are on the right-hand side, [and] [i]n the right-hand cell, the bunk beds are on the left-hand side. . . . [T]hey’re actually attached . . . somehow through the wall. So whenever . . . neighbors will be playing dominoes and smashing dominoes on the bunk bed or jumping up and down, . . . you’d feel it on your bed, even though they’re in totally different cells.” Interview with FI.30 at 33. If that person happened to be “a very deep and robust snorer . . . you could actually feel the wall and your bed vibrate when they snore[d].”115Interview with FI.1 at 27.

Whatever the structure of the bunks, the person on the top bunk is typically forced to find some creative way to get in and out of bed. There are small ladders attached to the beds—really just “a couple of rungs attached to the bunk”116Interview with FI.9 at 22.—but if you use them, “your bottom bunkmate is going to feel the bed move.”117Interview with FI.19 at 25. The ladders, comprised of “little metal rungs,” were also “devastating on your feet unless you keep tennis shoes on to climb ’em.” Interview with FI.27 at 40; see also Interview with AH FI.2 at 23 (“[W]hen you’re coming off that top bunk down the stairs, the ladder doesn’t go all the way down, you hop the last, like three feet. So the bunk is going to shake.”). So people descending from top bunks may instead step on the desk, commode, or other available surface, which might lead them to jostle or even displace the property of their cellmate. The risk this operation entails is particularly elevated in the middle of the night. For this reason too, those on the top bunks might forbear from getting out of bed at night to relieve themselves, even if the need were pressing, simply to avoid provoking conflict.118See Walker v. Schult, 717 F.3d 119, 122 (2d Cir. 2013) (“There were no ladders to climb up to the top bunks; Walker had to climb onto a chair and then onto another inmate’s locker to reach his bed. . . . If, when climbing up to his bed, he knocked another inmate’s property off a locker, it ‘would lead to arguments and possibly fights.’ ”). Bottom bunks are widely preferred, although people on bottom bunks also need to take care that in moving, they don’t disturb their bunkmates. One person reported that “in the middle of the night, when [he would] go to turn over, if [he] was on the bottom bunk, [he would] make sure to keep [his] hands down low, so [he] won’t accidentally hit [the top bunk].”119Interview with FI.3 at 20. And bottom bunks present their own issues. More than one person described the jarring impression of waking from sleep to find a dark shadow looming over them. By the time they realized it was just their cellmate using the commode, they were wide awake, the effect of an adrenaline rush sparked by fear.120On the sleep-impeding effects of fear of violence, see infra Section IV.A. Those on the bottom bunk may also be on the receiving end of a steady rain of bodily detritus extruded from the person on the top bunk. See Interview with FI.19 at 28 (“When you’re on the bottom bunk, everything from the top bunk falls down, [for example], dead skin particles, [or], if you have a gross bunkie, fingernails and hair [will] fall[] in[to] your bed, or food that they’re eating somehow finds its way onto your bed.”). To the extent that feelings of disgust can impede sleep, this feature of bottom-bunk living would certainly do so.

Just about everyone tries in some way to increase the comfort level of their sleeping arrangements. The most common approach is to angle for a second mattress, blanket, or pillow, usually by being the first to snag one left behind by someone being transferred or released. But in every facility, having anything beyond what was issued by the prison—generally one mattress, one blanket, two sheets, and possibly a pillow or pillowcase—is a clear rules violation and could result in a write-up.121For discussion of rules enforcement related to measures taken to improve sleep, see infra Section IV.D. In many cases, COs won’t bother writing the ticket, but they will likely confiscate the extra items—“if you get caught with doubles, they’ll take it.”122Interview with FI.3 at 23. Those who manage to procure an extra mattress might pursue a more effective (if more audacious) approach: stuffing one mattress inside the other. As one person explained, “[T]here’s a seam on the mattress, so I unstitched it and slid the other one in it and then sewed it back up.”123Interview with FI.19 at 11. These measures could make a difference on the margins: after a while, one’s “mattress would be like pancakes. . . . [T]here’s a difference between two mats and one mat for sleeping.”124Interview with FI.33 at 36. Still, the difference is only a matter of degree, and even doubled up, “it’s still bad.”125Interview with FI.3 at 24. As one mattress-doubler put it, “I was limiting the amount of damage that the regular mattress was doing to me by a small percentage. But when you’re gasping for air, you’ll take any air you can get.”126Interview with FI.19 at 13.

B. Hunger

Three basic aspects of food in prison contribute to the hunger that, according to my interviews, universally impedes sleep: quality, quantity, and timing. The quality of the food is so poor that people often have to force it down and will often opt not even to try. The quantity is frequently insufficient to induce satiety. And most significantly, the timing of the meals is such that there is typically a gap of at least five or six hours without food between “dinner” and lights out. Every single person I spoke with affirmed that if you have no money on your books for food from commissary, you will go to bed hungry, a condition that makes it difficult if not impossible to sleep. Those with family support will usually have food to eat before they go to sleep. The rest scramble to make money with side hustles (e.g., cleaning cells, making and selling food, doing legal work), or resort to less salutary strategies that could put them at risk (e.g., stealing, gambling, selling sex). The desperate desire not to go to bed hungry appears to be a driver of some of the most dangerous and pathological behaviors adopted by people in prison.

The other obstacle to sleep universally attested to in my interviews relates to food. Together, three food-related issues—quality, quantity, and timing—ensure that those able to eat only what the prison serves will routinely go to bed hungry, a condition that can make it hard to fall or stay asleep. First, the quality of the food served in prison is notoriously poor and often inedible.127It is well-documented that prison food may at times be moldy, rancid, or otherwise not fit for human consumption. The Federal Reporter and Federal Appendix are full of cases that are summarily dismissed despite involving spoiled food, dirty trays, foreign objects in the food, and other indicia of gross indifference regarding the food people are served in prison. See, e.g., Hamm v. DeKalb Cnty., 774 F.2d 1567, 1575 (11th Cir. 1985) (holding that food “occasionally contain[ing] foreign objects” and falling below food preparation standards “does not amount to a constitutional deprivation”); Meyers v. Clarke, 767 F. App’x 437, 439 (4th Cir. 2019) (per curiam) (holding a prisoner’s allegations of “stale and moldy” food insufficient to state an Eighth Amendment claim); Oliver v. Fuhrman, 739 F. App’x 968, 969–70 (11th Cir. 2018) (per curiam) (holding that allegations of “toxic” food served on dirty dishes failed to state an Eighth Amendment claim); Williams v. Berge, 102 F. App’x 506, 507 (7th Cir. 2004) (per curiam) (holding that allegations that food served was “stale,” “moldy,” and “rancid” did not state an Eighth Amendment claim). One person I spoke to, capturing the general sentiment, described prison food as “garbage, . . . like what they feed a pig. If you put [slop] in a bucket and throw it in a pig’s face . . . [t]hat’s what it looks like.”128Interview with FI.14 at 23. So unappetizing is the food served that those with other options will choose to forgo the prison fare altogether. The quantity is also frequently insufficient, and, as a result, even people who eat everything served to them still may not get enough to feel satiated.129Interview with FI.20 at 51 (explaining that “the portions are poor, and then you have the inmates serving the food. So if the certain person that[’s] serving don’t like you, you’re gonna get half your portion, [not] your whole state issue”). One person reported losing “thirty or forty pounds just on the food. . . . It was just very, very, very small portions.”130Interview with AH FI.2 at 9.

But in terms of impact on sleep, the most consequential issue is the timing of meals. At some point, I began asking when meals were served. As to breakfast, answers varied from as early as 3:00 a.m. to as late as 8:00 a.m., with the majority reporting breakfast times between 4:00 a.m. and 7:30 a.m.131Nineteen people answered this question vis-à-vis breakfast. Of these, eight people named a breakfast time between 4:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m., and eight named a time between 6:00 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. Of still greater significance in terms of sleep is the timing of dinner. Here, answers ranged from 2:00 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., with the overwhelming majority reporting a dinner time between 4:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m., or earlier.132Nineteen people answered this question vis-à-vis dinner. Of these, fourteen named a dinner time between 4:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. In most prisons, people appear to be locked in for the night around 9:00 p.m. or 9:30 p.m., with the lights dimmed for sleep around 10:00 p.m. Even those who go immediately to sleep at 10:00 p.m. will have gone at least five hours without eating, and for those who stay up later, the delay without food will be correspondingly longer—what one person called “intermittent fasting before it became fashionable.”133Interview with AH FI.2 at 24.

Those with the good fortune to work in the kitchen have “access to extra food left over.”134Interview with FI.13 at 43; see also Michael Gibson-Light, Orange-Collar Labor: Work and Inequality in Prison 37 (2023) (“There’s perks to working in the kitchen—you get to eat before everyone else, and then [again] after. So, you get extra meals!”) (quoting an incarcerated kitchen worker as part of a study on prison labor). Otherwise, thanks to the timing of dinner, “[a] whole lot of people went to sleep hungry.”135Interview with FI.44 at 31. To avoid this situation, people try to have food on hand to eat before going to sleep. In facilities with a central dining area, although “you’re not supposed to,” people would “bring the food out [of the chow hall] . . . . Might be rice and beans. I’ll bag that up and bring that back.”136Interview with FI.27 at 46. In facilities where food is served in cells or day rooms, people might keep back food from their trays. But in many prisons, being caught with prison-issued food in one’s cell is a rules violation and “sometimes, you’re going to get caught.”137Id. When that happens, even if you are not written up, the food will be confiscated, leaving the problem of nighttime hunger unaddressed.

There is, however, one thing that allows people to stave off hunger: access to commissary (also known as “canteen” or “store”). In every prison, people can purchase a range of items from what is in effect a virtual prison shop, which typically sells a mix of food, personal hygiene products, and other miscellaneous items.138Most food sold through prison commissaries is highly processed junk food. There are many reasons to be concerned about the unhealthy quality of the available options. But when people are hungry, it does the trick. Each facility has an approved vendor, and people fill out forms indicating what they want to buy, with the funds coming out of the purchaser’s prison account. As in society in general, there are all kinds of reasons to want money in prison.139For more on the way poverty interferes with sleep in prison, see infra Section IV.C. But judging from my conversations—which again, involved people from all regions of the country, diverse as to race, gender, jurisdiction, housing configuration, and security level140See Appendix B, Tables 1–5.—the single biggest reason is that having money or its equivalent141Accepted currency varies across institutions, with stamps and soups (usually, packets of ramen noodles sold in the commissary) representing the most frequent form of payment. People may also pay for things inside by buying and transferring commissary items of the creditor’s choice. See Gibson-Light, supra note 134, at 105 (explaining that ramen packets were the going currency in the prison he studied). allows you to get the food you need so that you do not go to bed hungry. As one person recalled, “When I first [got to prison], I didn’t have as much money coming to me. So there were nights where I would go to bed starving. And you just couldn’t sleep because of how hungry you were, or [you would] wake up early waiting for breakfast . . . just because you’re so hungry.”142Interview with FI.3 at 27. People described “nights that you would be tossing and turning because your stomach was hurting” from hunger;143Interview with FI.41 at 28. “nights of not having food,” when “you [were] so hungry, you[’d] take your hands and push in on your stomach to make [it] tighter, and try[] to fall asleep like that”;144Interview with FI.19 at 29. and nights of “being so hungry to the point where you can’t even sleep.”145Id.

In prison, commissaries typically price goods close to or even higher than market rates,146See Elizabeth Weill-Greenberg & Ethan Corey, Locked in, Priced out: How Prison Commissary Price-Gouging Preys on the Incarcerated, The Appeal (Apr. 17, 2024), https://theappeal.org/locked-in-priced-out-how-much-prison-commissary-prices [https://perma.cc/43BU-5S3B] (analyzing commissary pricing schedules for 46 states, and finding that, although “[o]ne package of ramen”—“widely considered a universal staple of the prison diet”—“goes for about 35 cents at Target, . . . many commissaries charged over 40 cents per packet[,]” and that “Maruchan-brand ramen noodles cost 57 cents [per packet] in Missouri prisons . . . but $1.06 in Florida prisons—about three times more expensive than at Target”). But see Stephen Raher, The Company Store: A Deeper Look at Prison Commissaries, Prison Pol’y Initiative (May 2018), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/commissary.html [https://perma.cc/7E22-9B64] (analyzing commissary prices for three states—Illinois, Massachusetts and Washington—and finding that “prices for some common items were lower than prices found at traditional free-world retailers,” and that “[o]ther commissary prices were higher, but only by a little bit”). yet people who work in prison will earn well below $1 an hour.147See Interview with FI.28 at 22 (“[W]ith the pay scale in the prison, you make forty-eight cents a day. And it costs one dollar for a ramen soup, so you work three days to have one ramen noodle soup.”); Interview with FI.13 at 24 (“They pa[id] us anywhere from twenty-five cents up to forty-five cents . . . , and we had to pay retail for our commissary. Plus, some of it was even higher than retail.”). On the pay of incarcerated workers, see Wendy Sawyer, How Much Do Incarcerated People Earn in Each State?, Prison Pol’y Initiative: Briefings (Apr. 10, 2017), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages [https://perma.cc/2QA5-HK5Z]; see also infra text accompanying notes 338–45. A key determinant of a person’s ability to buy items from the store is thus whether someone on the outside is putting money on their books or whether they have some other way to make money while inside. I spoke to one person who had a relatively well-paying job with a private company run with prison labor.148This individual had a job training fellow prisoners as call center agents. He reported making $285 a month (including bonuses), compared with the kitchen workers, who made “about $30” a month. Interview with FI.29 at 27. But in most cases, people who received no funds from family found some side hustle in the prison.149See Gibson-Light, supra note 134, at 109–10 (labeling this category of work in the prison as “shadow labor,” which is defined as “compensatory subsistence strategies that are fashioned . . . in the shadow of more conventional work . . . because participation in those markets fails to provide a living wage”) (quoting David A. Snow & Leon Anderson, Down on Their Luck: A Study of Homeless Street People 146 (1993)). People would “make and sell wine,”150Interview with FI.27 at 44. “homemade . . . cards,”151Interview with FI.1 at 35. or “prison burritos”152Interview with FI.28 at 22. crafted from ingredients bought from commissary or kitchen workers and sold for a markup.153Id. at 23 (“You can get the ingredients off the commissary. . . . And of course, you can subsidize your ingredients through the kitchen [because] everybody has their little hustle. You could get fresh onion, . . . some fresh cheese, or some hamburger meat . . . I actually created a burrito empire. At one point, I was selling close to [fifteen] to [twenty] dozen a day.”). Or they might “wash other people’s clothes” or “bowls [as a] kind of dishwasher,” “sell their phone time,” “do legal work for people,” or “type papers” for those in school.154Interview with FI.38 at 48. One person I spoke to “fixed all electronics like headphones, fan, Walkman, TV, radio, anything. . . . Even the officers would bring [him] broken fans and watches and stuff.”155Interview with FI.19 at 21. Like others with side hustles, he took his payment “[i]n commissary, in food.”156Id. at 31.

Those without family support or some effective way to earn money found other ways to get food or the money to buy it. One person I spoke to, who “didn’t have [any money] for a long time, . . . started gambling and stealing . . . to provide for [her]self.”157Interview with FI.20 at 20. For further discussion on the risks of this strategy, see infra Section IV.C. People “sold drugs to make ends meet”158Interview with FI.23 at 28. Drugs are easy to get inside carceral facilities. Prison gangs tend to control flow and sales and will use many pathways to get the product inside, the most common being bribing staff to serve as couriers. The pages of Prison Legal News are replete with reports of COs from around the country being caught smuggling drugs into the facilities where they worked. See, e.g., News in Brief, Prison Legal News (Aug. 1, 2025), https://www.prisonlegalnews.org/news/2025/aug/1/news-brief [https://perma.cc/9BH9-5N8V] (reporting that “former South Carolina [CO] Kevin Leroy Howard, 37, was arrested in July 2023 while attempting to bring drug-filled cylinders into the lockup with his dinner”); id. (reporting that former Tennessee CO Kyle Buss was sentenced to three years in prison “for smuggling fentanyl, methamphetamine, and tobacco into the Trousdale Turner Correctional Center . . . in 2022); News in Brief, Prison Legal News (May 1, 2025), https://www.prisonlegalnews.org/news/2025/may/1/news-brief [https://perma.cc/NN3F-GRUP] (reporting that Florida Department of Corrections CO Jakaleb Cahree Thomas was arrested “in a scheme to smuggle narcotics into the Suwannee Correctional Institution” after Thomas received a delivery of “approximately a half-pound of illegal drugs, including 42 grams of methamphetamine and 211 grams of marijuana”). or exchanged “sex for food”159Interview with FI.33 at 59. or “g[o]t jobs in the kitchen so they could steal.”160Interview with FI.27 at 45; see Gibson-Light, supra note 134, at 37; supra note 157. Others would “panhandle, ask your neighbors, your buddies,”161Interview with FI.5 at 29. or they might resort to a more general appeal:

[T]here were people who had no money and they would stand out by where we get our trays. And they’re asking people, you know, “Oh, do you want the rest of that?” and they’re collecting it, and putting it into a bowl to try to have what they need for that night.162Interview with FI.19 at 31.

However one does it, the main goal is to have provisions available so that, when 10:00 p.m. rolls around, a person has something to eat before they try to sleep.

Even people with the resources for commissary may sometimes go to bed hungry. People may run out of food before the next canteen day. Or they might have had extra expenses that ate into their stash for the month. COs might have tossed their cell, and in the process rendered whatever food they had inedible—tearing open packages, contaminating their provisions, and so on.163See id. at 38 (see infra quoted text accompanying note 398). One CO I spoke to for this study acknowledged the way cell searches can compromise people’s food supplies. But, at the same time, he explained, this is a necessary part of his role of ensuring prison security. As he put it,

I have to do it as part of my job. I’m sorry, I have to do it. I’ve got to open up all your coffee, . . . your soups, and stuff . . . to look for drugs. Yeah, you can still eat it. But it’s not going to last you as long as you intended to. And [so] there’s a lot of frustration.

Interview with CO.1 at 40. Still, he conceded, not every CO is as respectful of prisoners’ property as he believed they ought to be when conducting these searches. He described seeing colleagues doing cell searches “and they’ll open up all your bags of chips and everything and just spill it all over the floor. If I open it up, I’ll . . . check it respectfully [so] that you’ll still be able to use it. Some people will open it and you have to throw it away.” Id. at 41. This CO was notable for the extent to which he seemed attuned to the experiences and perspective of the incarcerated. This disposition appeared traceable to his connection with an uncle who “used to be locked up. And he’s always telling me, ‘Do not abuse the inmates; . . . they’re humans, too. Don’t abuse them because you’ve got the power.’ ” Id. at 12. Judging from our conversation, CO.1 took this advice to heart.
A rules violation sometimes carries the penalty of loss of canteen privileges. People are often transferred between facilities, and it can take time for the finances to catch up, which can mean missing several cycles of commissary while you wait.164See Interview with FI.11 at 17 (“[T]ransferring your money from prison to prison, is like, when is it gonna hit? . . . There’s usually a two-week period or something whe[n] your money isn’t coming in, and then . . . you can only [get commissary] once a month. . . . [One time,] I had to wait almost a month and a half before I could get anything.”). One person reported being transferred to “a very restrictive facility,” where “you come in [and] you can’t get commissary for the first thirty days.”165Interview with FI.38 at 11. And perhaps most notably, access to property is contingent on remaining in general population. When people are sent to solitary (a.k.a. administrative segregation or “ad seg”), whether for discipline, protective custody, or suicide watch, they are not permitted to bring any property with them and are highly restricted in what they can get while they are there. Generally, in ad seg, people “don’t have any access to commissary,”166Interview with FI.2 at 69. so people are completely dependent on whatever food is served. As one person explained, people in ad seg will “get fed [dinner] around 3:30 or 4:00 [p.m.], and they don’t get anything [else] [un]til about 6:30 [a.m.].”167Id. To make matters worse, in ad seg, you can’t even “save food from your evening meal to try to hold it [t]o have something to eat in the morning or in the middle of the night”168Id. because doing so is a rules violation—“if they find you with that, then they add extra time to the time that you stay in seg.”169Id. Whatever the obstacles to accessing commissary, when people are unable to buy food to supplement prison-issue meals, they go to bed hungry, which makes it hard to sleep—even assuming a sleeping environment that is temperate, quiet, and dark, which, as will be seen, prison environments frequently are not.

C. Extremes of Heat and Cold

To get adequate sleep, the body needs to be at ease. Yet for months every year, people in prisons nationwide are forced to try to sleep in sweltering heat or freezing cold. Predictably, this leads to conflict. Men in dorms fight over where to direct the few available fans—battles generally won by those whose threats of violence are most credible. People struggling to get comfortable in their bunks toss and turn, drawing the ire of bunkmates whose own efforts at sleep are thereby disturbed. And cellmates with different sleeping preferences clash over whether to close windows or block vents. It would be too simple to put this down to changing climate. The ambient temperature in carceral facilities is an operational choice. Although average annual temperatures continue to climb, most prisons have no air conditioning in the housing units (even while providing air conditioning in the spaces where COs congregate, including staff lounges and officers’ booths). And in the coldest months, poorly maintained physical plants—broken windows, ineffective or broken heating systems, and so on—leave people too cold to sleep.

In prison, the ability to sleep is greatly impacted by the ambient temperature. In society in general, people who have control over their sleeping environments will adjust their thermostats to a comfortable setting. When two or more people share living space, there may be competing preferences as to the best temperature for sleeping. But it is rare that, given the choice, people would opt to sleep in the freezing cold or in sweltering heat. The reason is obvious: to get adequate sleep, the body needs to be at ease. In conditions of extreme heat or cold, the physical relaxation necessary to fall and stay asleep becomes unattainable.

Apart from those few fortunates who did their time in facilities with air conditioning, functional heating systems, and well-maintained physical plants,170Air conditioning in prison should be considered a necessity as global temperatures continue to rise. But even air conditioning is no guarantee of a reasonably comfortable ambient temperature during the hottest months. As one person explained,

they turn the air conditioning on at a set date, and they turn the heat on at a set date, regardless of the outside temperature. . . . [O]ur AC wouldn’t come on until June 1. So [in the middle of April] there were days where the heat is pumping, and it’s ninety degrees outside, and trying to sleep in those conditions [is] insane.

Interview with FI.19 at 20.
my interviewees consistently reported long stretches each year when extremes of heat or cold greatly impeded sleep. Consider first excessive heat. Multiple interviewees from across the country described enduring many months every year when it was too hot to sleep, when it got “so hot and humid that the walls are sweating [and] [t]he floors constantly have that dewiness on them,”171Interview with FI.1 at 25. when you “sweat so much, [i]t wears you out,”172Interview with FI.20 at 23. “your shirts would be dripping wet. You actually could wring your shirts out.”173Interview with FI.18 at 15 As one person succinctly put it: “In the summer, it’s so hot, it’s like you’re in a blowtorch.”174Interview with FI.30 at 28.

Because heat rises, those on the top tiers suffer most. One person described “working in the infirmary,” and “hav[ing] to respond to guys that were living up there. And as you walked up five flights of stairs, it was like . . . [you were] in a sauna all of a sudden, . . . like [a] forty to fifty degree temperature change sometimes. It was ridiculously hot.”175Interview with FI.29 at 19–20. In the summer months, the dorms can also get “exceedingly hot”: “If it’s 100 degrees outside, it’s gonna be 110 degrees in the dormitories.”176Interview with FI.35 at 22. The problem of excessive heat in prison has emerged as an issue for Eighth Amendment litigation. In both Texas and Louisiana, district courts have found constitutional violations stemming from excessive heat and ordered remedial relief. See infra note 186 and text accompanying notes 186–90. When it was this hot, no one was sleeping. “[All that] body heat. . . . Everybody’s tossing and turning.”177Interview with FI.35 at 22. One person I spoke to described being “up all times a night.”178Id. at 42. He would “get up soaking wet. Go to the bathroom, get a cold towel, wipe my skin off. Go lay back down. Wake up an hour and a half later [and] can’t sleep.”179Id. Even outside the South, this situation was hardly rare; one person in a federal facility in the Northeast described being “super-duper hot and miserable” during the height of summer.180Interview with FI.44 at 29. In the South, heat this intense could last six months or more each year.181See Interview with FI.35 at 23 (explaining that, in the South, where he was incarcerated, the heat was frequently intense starting in late March and running through at least the end of September).

Predictably, this degree of discomfort sparks frustration and even threats of violence. In the dorms, prison officials sometimes set up industrial-strength fans, but their placement and direction can provoke anger and even lead to fights as people desperate for sleep struggle to get or retain access to the relief the fans provide. As one person described it, “[e]verybody’s fighting for the fan. The fan has been cocked this way, cocked that way. You got guys waking up in the middle of the night, ‘Man, don’t turn that fan no more,’ which caus[es] a fight [and] now everybody waking up. ‘Man, listen, leave the fucking fan alone.’ ”182Interview with FI.35 at 22. If tensions did not run as high in the cells, periods of extreme heat still sparked issues. In the heat, people who are unable to sleep find themselves shifting in their bunks trying to get comfortable. The mattresses, as we have seen, are typically wrapped in a kind of rubber183See supra Section III.A (discussing the nature of prison mattresses). to which bodies would stick in the heat. And as we have also seen, when people are double-bunked, every move one person makes can be heard and felt by the other, especially when the bunks share a single frame.184For more on the way the design of the bunks impacts sleep, see supra Section III.A. Out of respect, people try to minimize movement as much as possible. But the cost of this courtesy is being forced to remain immobile even amidst the great discomfort excessive heat creates, making sleep even more elusive.

It is not that prison officials are unaware of the heat. More than one person I spoke to described housing units so hot that staff avoided coming inside. One interviewee noted that COs would “sit outside in an air conditioned booth all night, and they would come inside of the dormitory, make their rounds, . . . and then go back into an air conditioned booth while we stayed in the dormitory.”185Interview with FI.8 at 10; see also Interview with FI.31 at 23 (“[A]ll the officers [would be] hanging in the foyer with the AC central air, while all of us in the [housing units] are hot and the walls are even sweating.”). The lack of air conditioning in Southern prisons in particular has already become the subject of constitutional litigation, with Eighth Amendment challenges to excessive heat grounded in the substantial risk of serious harm posed to people with certain medical conditions, the symptoms of which are exacerbated by heat exposure.186See Cole v. Collier, No. 4:14-CV-1698, 2017 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 112095, at *13–14 (S.D. Tex. July 19, 2017); Ball v. LeBlanc, 988 F. Supp. 2d 639, 684–85 (M.D. La. 2013). In Ball v. LeBlanc, a case concerning excessive heat on death row at the Louisiana State Penitentiary (a.k.a. “Angola”), the district court appointed outside experts to monitor the temperature over three weeks in July and August.187Ball, 988 F. Supp. 2d at 652. During that time, the heat index in the facility rose as high as 107.78 degrees Fahrenheit and remained over 100 degrees for a full week.188Id. at 659. The district court ordered the Louisiana Department of Corrections (“DOC”) to install air conditioning, but the Fifth Circuit vacated that part of the order.189Ball v. LeBlanc, 792 F.3d 584, 600 (5th Cir. 2015) (per curiam). In 2018, the case settled, with the DOC committing to providing a minimum of fifteen minutes of shower time each day, ice machines and ice containers, fans, water, icy breeze units, and diversion of cool air from the guard’s pod to the area of the plaintiffs’ cells on any day when the heat index in the plaintiffs’ cells exceeds 88 degrees.190Settlement Agreement at 2–3, Ball v. LeBlanc, 988 F. Supp. 2d 639 (M.D. La. 2013) (No. 13-CV-368). Judging from what I heard, whatever else these half-measures might accomplish, they are unlikely to do much to improve the sleep of people in Louisiana prisons during the hot summer months.

Being too cold can also obstruct sleep. Virtually all facilities have heating systems for cold winter months, yet judging from my interviews, excessive cold remains a pervasive issue. In many cases, the problem stems from a poorly maintained physical plant. One person incarcerated in the Northeast told me that, in his prison, the windows had no glass, so “[w]hen it snowed, it snowed [directly into the] room.”191Interview with FI.14 at 15. It was like “sleep[ing] on a bench in Central Park in the wintertime.”192Id. at 16. Likewise, in one Midwestern prison, thanks to broken windows in the cells, people would wake up “with snow on [their] blankets.”193Interview with FI.18 at 17. In a prison in New England, “a lot of windows were broken out” and people resorted to using newspapers to cover windows and block the draft coming in under the doors.194Interview with FI.2 at 15. In one Southern prison, “the place was so old and rundown” that the “window closing mechanism . . . was just broken.”195Interview with FI.9 at 15 This meant that “in January and February, the windows were literally stuck open and it was against the rules to stuff blankets or towels in the windows . . . so it was freezing in there all the time.”196Id. In another Southern prison, “the industry heaters would be on but the window panes [we]re broken . . . so [it would be as] cold as Russia in the dormitory.” Interview with FI.25 at 24. In a facility on the West Coast, “you could almost see your breath in the air,” and in some cells, “you could even see ice forming on the wall.”197Interview with FI.13 at 20. One person in the Northeast reported having actual “icicles . . . forming inside the room.”198Interview with FI.3 at 25.

Plainly, under such extremity, it is very difficult to sleep. I asked one person how he slept in the cold he was describing. His answer: “You didn’t. . . . [W]e were bundled up—we put our sweatsuits on. You put [on] your full tans [i.e, the prison-issued uniform] and you’d have your jacket on with your hat and your gloves, and you’d sit there and try to get as warm as you could.”199Interview with FI.14 at 16. Others painted a similar picture: “[B]asically you’re laying there with this wind that’s blowing constantly through into your cube, and you’re just trying to stay warm. . . . Not very good [quality of sleep]. Because you’d wake up in the morning . . . frozen.”200Interview with FI.12 at 17. One person reported being able to sleep in the cold once he tucked his coat over his blankets, “but just with the sheets and the blankets, I’m still shivering, I’m still cold.” Interview with FI.44 at 28.

As with extreme heat, conditions of extreme cold can spark tensions among people frustrated by their inability to sleep. One person who lived in a dorm in a Southern prison described

power struggles with the older generation [who] wanted the heater on [while] the younger generation didn’t. Sometimes . . . the older generation would win [and] the heater would stay on, . . . which would make it warm in there. So some guys would open their window, but the gust from the cold is coming through the window and [now] you’re cold. . . . [and you’re] trying to convince him, “Hey, man, I’m cold, could you close the window?”,201The norm in prison is that those closest to the windows have the prerogative to decide whether to keep them open or closed. which could lead to a fistfight.202Interview with FI.8 at 15. In a bid to keep warm, one person resorted to a creative—if risky—strategy: “You know those little clip-on lamps that you have for college with the little clip? . . . I slept with one of those on under my blanket because I was so cold.” Interview with FI.1 at 24.

Excessive cold was frequently a problem for people in ad seg. One person explained that, in ad seg, “you don’t get [any] blankets,” even though “it was freezing”—so cold, in fact, that he “had to cut [his] mat open and . . . go to sleep inside [the] mat.”203Interview with FI.16 at 17–19. This move did not keep him warm enough to sleep, but “it kept [him] a lot warmer than it would have been otherwise.”204Id. at 19. For those on suicide watch, the discomfort is intensified by the fact that they are typically forced to wear nothing but tear-resistant gowns known as “suicide smocks.” While these garments are made of durable fabric, they are entirely lacking in warmth. People on suicide watch are also denied standard blankets, sheets, and mattresses (although they may receive so-called suicide blankets). The justification for these deprivations is the need to prevent people contemplating suicide from accessing anything they might use to hang themselves. But the combined impact of these conditions leaves people too cold to sleep—a counterproductive effect, given that sleep deprivation appears to exacerbate suicidality.205On the connection between sleep disturbance and suicidal ideation and attempt, see supra note 44.

D. Noise

Prisons are extremely noisy places. Although the nature and extent of the noise varies by housing configuration, having one’s sleep disrupted by noise is a standard part of the carceral experience. Sources vary widely. The regular nighttime soundtrack may include loud voices, music, televisions, toilets flushing, the alarm clocks of night workers, or people “screaming and hollering.”206Interview with FI.25 at 11. Dorms, housing as many as eighty or a hundred people, are especially loud and chaotic. Some housing units have an ethos of nighttime quiet, maintained by mutual respect (as in honor dorms) or threats of violent reprisal (as in some maximum-security cellblocks). But some pathological sources of noise are not so easily quelled. People with mental illness can be loud at all hours. Some screams may come from victims of violence. And by far the most persistent and resented source of nighttime noise comes from staff who move through housing units at regular intervals doing count or security checks. Some COs try to do their checks without waking people up. But too often, COs on the night shift conduct themselves as if completely oblivious to the fact that they are surrounded by fellow humans desperately trying to sleep.

Prisons are extremely noisy places. In the daytime, the cacophony can be deafening. Although the decibel level drops considerably once people are locked in for the night, the nighttime soundtrack is still far from peaceful. This is especially so in dorms, where as many as eighty or a hundred people may live together in one cavernous room. One person compared it to “being outside at a parade” or “on [a] construction site,” with “a lot of guys having a nightmare, screaming and hollering.”207Id. In a dorm “people are moving around, people are going to work even in the middle of the night,” and “almost never would there be a night with nobody shouting or nobody making noise.”208Interview with FI.9 at 11. As FI.9 put it, the constant noise, being surrounded by people who do not care “how whatever it is they’re doing affects the people around them . . . is part of the hell of jail or prison.” Id. There were times when “people would stay up all night, and they’[d] leave their radio [or TV] on kind of loud, . . . or somebody [would be] partying, drinking, and making a lot of noise, up all night with the music playing.”209Interview with FI.23 at 16. Although the rule—and the strong norm—is that headsets must be worn by anyone watching TV or listening to music, in practice, this rule is often ignored. If only one or two people in a dorm flout the norm, everyone’s sleep is disrupted. And even when people wear headsets, those close by may hear enough of the sound—“like a fly buzzing in your ear all night”210Interview with FI.16 at 15.—to make it hard for them to fall or stay asleep. One person mentioned sometimes using earplugs to try to cut the noise. But as he explained, “[E]arplugs are tricky in prison. It’s a little easier if you’re in a cell [and] especially fine if you’re in your own cell. But in a dorm, it’s not that comfortable to not know what’s going on around you.”211Interview with FI.9 at 4. Earplugs are also expensive in prison. See Email from Ethan Corey, Rsch. & Projects Ed., The Appeal, to author (Sep. 29, 2025) (on file with author) (reporting that, according to the prison commissary price lists that he and his colleagues at The Appeal collected and analyzed, “few [prison] commissaries offered ear plugs for sale,” and that “[t]hose that did often sold them only as single-use packages,” with prices per pair ranging from “$0.12–$0.65”). For more on the cost of various tools people use in prison to try to improve the quality of their sleep, see infra Section IV.C.

In some dorms, the bathroom is connected to the living space, so people whose beds are nearby may be disturbed all night by others going back and forth, or by flushing toilets and running water. As one person put it, “imagine eighty-seven people going to the restroom at all different times of the night. And sometimes it’[s] just one person going to the restroom starts a chain reaction, because they hear the water flow and everything. And so if you’re by the restroom, it’s not fun.”212Interview with FI.5 at 19.

In more orderly dorm communities, there may be less of a problem with other people making noise at night. In one dorm setting I heard about, “there was this common respect that everyone [had] to go to work call in the morning and if you make[] noise in [the] dormitory, somebody’s going to get up and say something and tell you something.”213Interview with FI.35 at 10. This ethos is especially evident in the honor dorms,214“Honor” units typically house people with clean disciplinary records, who are known as people who avoid conflict and other disruptive behaviors. In most cases, people have to earn their way in, and those classified to these units have a strong interest in remaining—“people want[] to stay”—and so make every effort to stay out of trouble. As a result, people in honor housing tend to get better sleep. Interview with FI.28 at 33. where people do their best to avoid disturbing others, creating an environment that can be more “peaceful” and “laid back” with “less drama.”215Interview with FI.41 at 6–8. Yet even still, people invariably move around at night, especially older residents, who tend to be overrepresented in honor dorms and who may need to visit the restroom multiple times a night, creating frequent disruption.

A similar ethos of keeping noise creation to a minimum also appears to prevail in at least some high-security cellblocks housing people serving long sentences. In these units, there is a particular premium placed on displays of mutual respect, and making noise while others are sleeping is considered a strong show of disrespect.216Note that even in units where extant norms lead people to remain as quiet as possible, it may take until 11:00 p.m. or midnight before things get relatively quiet. With the lights coming on at 5:00 a.m. or 6:00 a.m., the very best people can hope for would be five to seven hours of sleep, assuming they fall asleep immediately at the first available opportunity and stay that way until the lights come on in the morning. In such units, people may be quieter at night “because they don’t want to have to deal with the [violent] consequences.”217Interview with FI.19 at 23. Certainly, even in high-security facilities, extant norms will vary. And outside maximum security, no such collective enforcement is likely, especially when people may have “a release date . . . within five years” and are “more likely to be on [their] [best] behavior because [they] can see the door.”218Interview with FI.27 at 21. If others are disruptive at night, “somebody might say something to them [and] at worst it would be a fight. . . . But more likely, it would[] be nothing. . . . People don’t want to risk it by stabbing some guy for being noisy.”219Id. at 21–22.

Viewed normatively, threats of violence against noisemakers are hardly desirable. But where no anti-disruption norm operates, a cellblock at night can be extremely loud. One person described trying to sleep in a housing unit with five galleries—a hundred men to a tier—where “individuals [would be] yelling from one gallery to [another] all night.”220Interview with FI.31 at 13. Another spoke of “people . . . banging on the door, yelling through the doors, talking to each other.”221Interview with FI.27 at 20. Or “[t]here are guys who will have radio battles all night long.”222Interview with FI.7 at 27. And in “open tiers, . . . you take all that [exposure to people’s sound] and you multiply it, so there’s probably a small window of time at night where there is no noise.”223Interview with FI.1 at 13. Other sources of noise may add to the din. One person described “big industrial fans” in his housing unit that “would just blow and make so much noise.”224Interview with FI.16 at 12. Another spoke of air blowing through the vents so loudly that it sounded like “a jet engine going off.”225Interview with FI.23 at 22. Some nighttime noise in prison mirrors the ordinary soundtrack of life in any setting. You might hear “different things fall[ing] in the middle of the night” (which “is gonna ring”), “other people’s alarm clocks going off,”226Id. at 18. Many people in prison work shifts. Kitchen workers in particular must rise early to begin preparing breakfast. Their schedule inevitably disturbs those around them, most of whom keep more regular hours. One of my interview subjects worked in the kitchen and described how, in the facility in which she did most of her time, “at 10:00 p.m., you have to be up out of your bed standing on your feet to be counted, but then you report to the kitchen at two in the morning,” so that, at best, she and her colleagues in the kitchen were getting four consecutive hours of sleep a night. Interview with FI.28 at 34. Even when the kitchen workers’ call is later, the commotion can be disruptive of others’ sleep. As one person explained it, the kitchen workers had a 5:30 a.m. call, “probably ten to twenty [people] in a building.” Interview with FI.30 at 19. And with that movement came “door slamming . . . people calling, people running by your cell window forgetting something, or the CO yelling at them to hurry up because they’re late.” Id. “their TVs when they’[re] up at night,” or—in facilities with “stronger flushes”—people flushing their toilets.227Interview with FI.23 at 18–19. Every prison is a congregate living facility, intended as a place where hundreds of people will sleep in close quarters. Yet in most facilities, there is little by way of effective sound absorption. As one person put it, “in a closed tier, everything is concrete, and so when people are yelling or talking, . . . there’s nothing to dampen or break up that sound . . . and so it just kind of bounces off the walls and goes right into your cell. . . . [It’s] like a funnel, and it just amplifies.” Interview with FI.1 at 12. This is only to be expected in places where people live. But multiplied by hundreds of people, the effect is constant, pervasive interference with sleep.228More than one person reported that the disruption was especially pronounced during basketball season. One person in a Northeastern prison described sports-related noise as a problem, not only during the “championship,” but even “just regular games. You’d have people banging on the doors after a game or somebody makes a shot or goal and banging on the doors. I hate basketball season.” Interview with FI.3 at 17. And someone in the Midwest, who described the low-security facility where he did most of his time as “a very tame place”—he called it “Camp Cupcake”—said his dorm “was really quiet,” except “during the NBA Playoffs,” when “guys would stay up and be screaming about basketball games.” Interview with AH FI.2 at 17, 25. For this reason, he “came to hate the Lakers. Go Knicks, go Boston, go Miami, because the games [on the East Coast are] earlier.” Id. at 17.

Other sources of nighttime noise reflect the deepest pathologies of American prisons. For example, even where some norm of respectful nighttime silence obtains, people with untreated mental illness may be unable to comply with or even process expectations around noise. As a result, those trying to sleep may find themselves disturbed by screams or other vocalizations coming from those unable to remain quiet. One person described being housed in her first months in prison with someone who was “schizophrenic and [who] was up all night, having . . . arguments with herself . . . like really heated arguments.” As a result, she “could not sleep.”229Interview with FI.11 at 7. And people with mental health issues need not scream or yell to disturb the sleep of those around them. Another woman spoke of how, in her dorm of 150 people, “there were the people who would get up super early and make noise . . . cook in the microwave, or get their breakfast ready, or be the first ones to shower.”230Interview with AH FI.1 at 22–23. These, as she explained it, were “people with mental illness” who “didn’t want to be bothered at 6:00 a.m. [when the lights came on]” and were rigid about “doing everything before [others woke up].”231Id. at 23. Although this was “an issue of inconvenience” to others, people “just learn[ed] to tolerate that stuff,” because “that’s how they are.”232Id. This realization may have alleviated resentment, but it did not help reduce the disturbance at a time when everyone else was trying to sleep.

Mental illness among residents is also one reason why some solitary confinement units can be so unremittingly loud. Judging from my interviews, ad seg can vary from extremely noisy to extremely quiet. Those who experienced the former reported that people would be “screaming [and] . . . kicking the doors,”233Interview with FI.6 at 23. or “yelling from door to door, talking to the homeboys down the hall, [and if] somebody thinks they can sing—they wanna sing.”234Interview with FI.27 at 23. “Everybody’s making noise, can’t nobody sleep.”235Interview with FI.14 at 35. If it was not the other residents, it was the doors: “[T]he [Secure Housing Unit] was always loud because the doors . . . are metal [and] they slam. Anytime anybody comes through—nurse, counselors, whatever—it’s always a bunch of noise.”236Interview with FI.27 at 23. As one person vividly described it, “There were these automated doors that would make this loud ‘ahhhh’ slam.”237Interview with FI.6 at 7. Depending on the location of your cell or who was working, “all night long, you[’re hearing] ahhhh clang, ahhhh clang, ahhhh clang.”238Id.

Then there are the sounds—the yells, the cries, the screams—produced by victims of violence. Based on my narrow sample, it is impossible to know how frequently this occurs. I did, however, hear it enough to credit that it happens. When asked about nighttime noise, people mentioned “cellies fighting each other,”239Interview with FI.31 at 14. or “[s]omebody might be attacking somebody [or] somebody might be screaming and hollering in the shower.”240Interview with FI.25 at 11. One person described being awakened one night by the harrowing sounds of a man who, it transpired, was being killed in a nearby cell.241Interview with FI.30 at 20. Violence, along with the fear of violence and the trauma it generates, interferes with sleep in other ways as well. I return to this point in Sections IV.A–B.

But by far the most persistent, intrusive, and resented source of nighttime noise is that made by staff. In every prison, whatever the housing configuration, COs are expected to come through each unit multiple times a night—as frequently as every fifteen or thirty minutes—to scan each cell and bed and see that all is well. The intended purpose of these rounds (known as “security checks”) is to prevent assaults and suicides, to break up fights, to have staff available for anyone who may need medical attention, and so on.242Whether regular nighttime security rounds are justified on these grounds is an open question. For more on this issue, see infra text accompanying notes 513–15. In addition, at certain set intervals,243Exact count times vary by institution. Typically, count takes place at least once in the middle of the night and once first thing in the morning when the lights come on around 5:00 a.m. or 6:00 a.m. I tried analyzing my data to establish a more exact sense of how often nighttime counts happen, but it was not amenable to this analysis. Efforts to get this information directly from corrections agencies via public records requests also largely failed, with most states claiming that this data was confidential for security reasons. This notion is patently specious: presumably, people incarcerated in a given facility already know the timing of count, so even assuming this information could be put to nefarious purposes, it is hard to see how making this information public would augment any existing risk. COs fan out through the facility to conduct “count,” an event occurring several times over the course of the day—and night. At these designated times, COs count every person in the facility to make sure the number of people inside corresponds to the official tally.

COs’ performance of these rituals means constantly interrupted sleep. Virtually everyone I spoke with recalled being woken up repeatedly at regular intervals by those staff members doing rounds who chose to conduct this task by banging on the doors or bars of their cells, kicking their bunks, or shining flashlights in their eyes, seeking (and sometimes loudly demanding) some indication from the sleeping person that they are still alive.244In one prison, COs conducting nighttime counts would loudly call out “sitting or standing!” reflecting “this new rule [the prison enforced] . . . which meant you either had to sit up [in bed], or you had to be standing” beside it during count—even in the middle of the night. “You could get write-ups for not sitting or standing.” Interview with FI.6 at 24–25. The implication of these phrases is that staff must confirm that each person is present and alive. But the systematic interference with sleep is self-evident. People told of COs who would “deliberately pound on the door or flash the light in our face until we move,”245Interview with FI.5 at 8. or who might “take their stick, or . . . the chirp thing for their rounds [i.e., the wand some COs must use to electronically record the completion of mandated security checks], and bang it on the bar or bang it on the door until you move.”246Interview with FI.7 at 31–32. As one person described it,

[E]very two hours or three hours . . . the officers do security check[s]. . . . They can just kick your door, boom, boom, boom, say, “Move your legs! Move your legs! Let me see you alive!” . . . So any given day, the officers . . . will wake you up . . . . [And] if you sleep with a cover over your head or something, the police will hit your window, boom, boom, boom, “let me see something.”247Interview with FI.17 at 5–6.

Often, people are woken up long before the COs reach their cells—whether because the officers “just slam the doors” when they walk through,248Interview with FI.10 at 21. “walk around with their walkie-talkies or radios turned all the way up,”249Interview with FI.9 at 30. or “have a bunch of different big, humongous keys on their belt, on a keychain that jangle[s] all the time when they come by.”250Interview with FI.27 at 7. In prisons not generally designed for effective sound absorption, when COs “knock on someone else’s door . . . you can hear the echoes from the whole hallway. . . . So you have to cover your ears because there’s always [constant] noise.”251Interview with FI.11 at 9–10.

In the dorms, in addition to flashlights in eyes, the kicking of bunks, and the shouts of “let me see you move,” several people described CO behavior reflecting seeming obliviousness to the sleeping people around them. They might “stand by your bunk and just start talking in the radio . . . extra loud,”252Interview with FI.16 at 44. or “bang[] [keys] on that corner of the bed [to wake someone up], . . . [which] pretty much wakes the whole dorm up.”253Id. at 11. Or a pair of COs “may just come to the dormitory talking to one another. One would be on one side of the dormitory and the other one would be on the other side. And they’re screaming across people while they’re making rounds.”254Interview with FI.8 at 5. One person reported that, rather than counting quietly, some staff would yell out the numbers: “[yells] 12345678!”255Interview with AH FI.2 at 18. Some readers might wonder (as I did) whether people having their sleep perpetually interrupted in these ways ever complained and asked COs to try to be quieter. When I asked this question in my interviews, everyone said the same thing: those who tried it would be courting serious retaliation. This exchange made the point succinctly: “[Did anybody [ever] say, count a little quieter, we’re sleeping?] You want to go off to seg?” Interview with AH FI.2 at 18. As a result, “you could never get a deep sleep there . . . because there was always noise.”256Interview with FI.8 at 5. And it is not only during rounds that staff on the night shift conduct themselves in ways that interfere with sleep. People also described COs in the officers’ booth laughing and joking without making any effort to keep the noise down. They would be in “their bubble, and they’d have a [fellow officer] come over, and then they [would] talk . . . so loud that you can hear them inside the dorms, you know, and they’re telling the funniest stories [and] [a]ll you hear is them laughing.”257Interview with FI.12 at 34.

In fairness, when officers conducting security checks insist on evidence that a person is present and alive, they are only following policy. As one CO I spoke to258See supra note 62 (noting that COs were also interviewed as part of this study). For an in-depth look at COs’ experiences of sleep deprivation, see Dolovich, “Forever Tired,” supra note 13. explained,

For me to be able to do my job confidently, I have to see flesh or body movement. So . . . that requires me . . . to knock on the door and wake them up. “Hey, are you alright?” “Yeah, man, can’t you see me?” “No, your bed sheets are up. I have to be able to see you, man. It’s nothing personal. I’m just trying to do my job.”259Interview with CO.38 at 34–35.

And notably, COs’ intrusive behavior on the night shift may also arise in part from their own struggles with chronic exhaustion arising from sleep deprivation.260Some people I interviewed also connected COs’ conduct during count to COs’ own fatigue. In one Southern prison, COs

work [a standard shift of] twelve hours a day. [And then] some of them will work overtime [and] work sixteen hours a day. And they will come back the next day and do twelve more hours. And you can see the ugliness in their personality. And we’re saying [to the COs], “[Y]ou need some sleep man. You come in here with all that yapity yap at the mouth, waking everybody up, all that screaming and hollering. Go get you some sleep man. You’ve been working overtime for four days.”

Interview with FI.35 at 46.
As my research has shown, COs too are often sleep deprived, and this is especially true of those on the graveyard shift (typically 10:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m.).261As one CO I spoke to put it, those who “work [a] 10:00 [p.m.] to 6:00 [a.m. shift], always say we’re forever tired. We’re never well rested.” Interview with CO.7 at 17. For more on sleep deprivation among COs, see Dolovich, “Forever Tired”, supra note 13. The resulting fatigue appears to drive at least some of the behaviors that disturb prisoners’ sleep. For example, “most [COs] are constantly talking to [co-workers] to get them through the night.”262Interview with CO.18 at 33; see also Interview with CO.37 at 18 (“Sometimes it gets to be a struggle to just try to keep your eyes [open], so you just try to find anything you can to occupy your mind [including] talking to a fellow coworker, . . . trying to keep each other awake.”). In some cases, COs’ fatigue may even explain why they make so much noise when coming through the dorms or cellblocks at night. When COs are tired, they are especially disinclined to get saddled with the hassle of paperwork. One person explained that

You’d have [COs] who would walk, jingling their keys [or the] change in their pocket, . . . to make themselves loud and unmissable because [o]n the off chance the prisoners are doing something they’re not supposed to be doing, or talking about what they’re not supposed to be doing, you want them to know you’re coming so hopefully they’ll stop by the time you get there [so you won’t have to deal with more paperwork].

Interview with CO.15 at 37.

Even still, the degree of disruption repeatedly described by my interviewees appears excessive, even accounting for institutional requirements and COs’ own exhaustion. Some considerate COs prove this point nightly by making affirmative efforts not to wake people up while doing rounds (with the proportions varying widely depending on the facility),263At some point, I began asking people to estimate the percentage of COs who, when conducting count or security rounds at night, made no effort to keep the noise down while people were sleeping. Estimates ranged widely. See, e.g., Interview with FI.16 at 32 (“Eighty percent would go out of the way to disturb you.”); Interview with FI.17 at 35 (“Probably a ten percent minority.”); Interview with FI.18 at 11 (“I’d say fifty percent . . . mostly the younger COs.”); Interview with FI.23 at 40 (“The ones that are considerate and [have] compassion [are] very slim . . . I would say, it’[s] eighty percent that are looking to disrupt your sleep.”); Interview with FI.35 at 15 (“I won’t say one hundred percent [but] I will say ninety-seven percent.”); Interview with AH FI.1 at 5 (“I would say a good fifty-fifty”); Interview with AH FI.2 at 19 (“I would say seventy-five percent were loud.”); Interview with AH FI.12 at 15 (“I would say that a solid thirty-five percent willfully made noise. . . . [H]onestly, some of them would walk through talking on their cell phones.”). thus showing it is possible to do so. These courteous COs do not yell or bang the bars or kick the bunks or shine their flashlights directly into people’s eyes. They instead “hold their keys as they’re doing count and . . . put the light up toward the ceiling”—using the ambient light to establish that people are present and breathing—“[s]o it’s not really affecting our sleep. And they kind of walk on by, . . . come by real quick, [look in], and take off”264Interview with FI.5 at 37. or they might “just tap real gently enough to make you move subconsciously.”265Interview with FI.19 at 40. Such efforts were not always successful, but they were always appreciated. At least some people reported that, when COs approached count in this way, they were able to sleep right through it. And respectful behavior by COs conducting count had a second sleep-promoting effect: when a CO makes an obvious effort not to disturb, those who are nonetheless woken up are at least spared the feelings of resentment, frustration, and anger so often provoked when COs seemed to be gratuitously inconsiderate—feelings that would in turn impede efforts to fall back asleep.266For more on the way gratuitously disrespectful treatment by staff impedes sleep in prison, see infra Section IV.E.

E. Light

In some units in some prisons, the lights stay on 24/7. In such environments, deep, restorative sleep can be impossible. In most cases, the lights are dimmed at night, but they never fully go off, leaving it “dark, but . . . not . . . sleep dark.”267Interview with FI.44 at 24. Those who suffer most are people on top bunks, especially those stuck directly below the lights. But the perpetual glow makes it hard for everyone to sleep, leading many to attempt creative strategies for blocking the light. Unfortunately, most such strategies are only marginally successful and quickly run up against several pathological features of the prison environment. In this way, exploring the phenomenon of excessive nighttime light effectively illustrates the way that, in prison, the causes of sleep deprivation are never only about a single isolated factor.

Excessive light also impedes sleep in prison, although, as with noise, the effects vary depending on housing configuration. In the worst cases, people are housed in units where the lights are on full blast 24/7. This is so in some ad seg units, where “very bright lights are on twenty-four hours a day.”268Interview with FI.21 at 27; see, e.g., Grenning v. Miller-Stout, 739 F.3d 1235, 1237 (9th Cir. 2014) (finding that the plaintiff stated an Eighth Amendment claim when challenging the prison practice of maintaining “continuous twenty-four hour illumination” in ad seg unit). Lighting policy seems to vary widely across different solitary confinement units. While some people I spoke with who did time in solitary described bright lights that remained on constantly, others reported ad seg units that were “pitch black,” Interview with FI.16 at 2, or in which the light “didn’t go all the way off—it was a dim light.” Interview with FI.27 at 29. In general population, in some instances, prison administrators may decide that certain units are too dark at night. One person told me that, in one facility he was in, “they used to cut the lights out” at night, but then there was “a fight and [the COs] really couldn’t pinpoint who did what, . . . so the sergeant actually made us keep the lights on . . . in the dorm. . . . Full strength. All night.”269Interview with FI.14 at 13. Whatever the reason, when the lights stay bright all night, sleep eludes pretty much everyone.

In most housing units in most prisons, the standard practice is to dim the lights, usually an hour or so after everyone is locked in for the night. If this situation is far preferred to round-the-clock brightness, for many people it still remains too light to sleep. This is especially an issue in dorms, in which several lights stay on all night and “it [is] never anything other than like twilight in that big space”270Interview with FI.21 at 13.—“it’s dark, but it’s not . . . sleep dark.”271Interview with FI.44 at 24. It is worse for people with bunks close to lighted areas of the dorm, typically those near “the guard booth and bathrooms.”272Interview with AH FI.12 at 14. Cells generally have light switches that turn off the cell lights completely. But the hallway lights, while dimmed, remain on. In at least some places, rather than all the lights being dimmed to the same degree, the lights are calibrated, with some portion remaining at full strength. It might be “half a tube that would still be on, and that could be directly in front of your cell”; understandably, those cells “are the least coveted.”273Interview with FI.1 at 19. “[E]ven if they turned off the big light, the small light was still there. And so it was never ever dark at all,”274Interview with FI.21 at 13. still “[t]oo bright to sleep.”275Interview with FI.19 at 19. Multiple people reported cellblock night lighting “bright enough to read by.”276Interview with FI.28 at 8. Hallway night lighting was especially a problem for those with cell bars rather than a solid door, because with this setup “[there’s] nothing filtering the light.”277Interview with FI.31 at 18. And even those with solid doors could find their sleep disturbed, because the “lights that stay[] on at night . . . still have a tendency of coming in through the window and shining something in your room.”278Interview with FI.24 at 24.

In both dorms and cells, those on bottom bunks have an advantage when it comes to light. Depending on the angle of the bed, “if you’re on the bottom bunk, the top bunk would shed some of the light off,” while “if you’re on the top bunk, you get all the light.”279Interview with FI.33 at 26. People on bottom bunks have an additional advantage: the configuration allows them to “put a sheet under the [top bunk] mattress” to make a tent.280Interview with FI.44 at 24. And assuming the COs on duty are not sticklers,281See Interview with FI.24 at 25 (“Sometimes the officers would let you hang a towel that doesn’t block their entire view of you. Again, it would all depend upon who . . . because, you know, every officer is so different.”). this move may afford “some type of shade, to shade your face from the actual light.”282Interview with FI.14 at 14. But putting up such tents is against the rules283For more on the way the enforcement—or even just the existence—of prison rules can compromise sleep, see infra Section IV.D. and if the COs are unwilling to look the other way, the tents must come down, letting in light even for those on the bottom bunks.

Those on top bunks suffer most from excessive nighttime light. This is especially so in the dorms, in which some have the bad luck to be in beds directly under lights that remain on all night—so-called “bad bunk[s].”284Interview with FI.12 at 16. People likened the experience of a bad bunk to feeling “like you’re [a] cockroach [under] the light . . . and [you] can’t get away,”285Interview with FI.5 at 14. or like a “rotisserie [chicken]” sleeping under “rotisserie lights.”286Interview with FI.30 at 23; see id. (“I would joke with people that I feel like a fucking rotisserie chicken. [I]n the morning . . . [people would] be like, . . . you look like shit. And I’m like, well, what do you think? I’m sleeping under a light like a bloody deli chicken.”). In terms of lighting, the worst moment—mentioned by several people I spoke to—is when all the lights come on first thing in the morning, often as early as 5:00

a.m. or 6:00 a.m. Especially for those on top bunks, once that happens, further sleep becomes impossible—“like trying to sleep with the sun on your forehead.”287Interview with FI.16 at 16.

Although the intensity of the intrusion varies, pretty much everyone must find a way to block the light in order to sleep. In the cells, people have somewhat more control over their environment and may employ hacks that involve tweaking the physical plant. When the lights themselves are easily reachable, the most common move is to make paper light covers and place them directly over the lights to cut the brightness.288One person reported an approach that both cut the brightness of the light and allowed expression of gang loyalty: “[W]e would use colored paper to, . . . well because I was associated with [a gang whose color is red] we had red colored paper, [which] would turn the light red. And that would kind of help with the lighting.” Interview with FI.5 at 18. Sometimes these efforts could be very involved. One interviewee explained that he would use

a cardboard box—like a Ritz cracker box—you open it and flatten it out. [Y]ou would get three or four of those [boxes . . . and use] tape. Or . . . if you don’t have tape, you could get toothpaste [as an adhesive] and get paper, and that will dim [the light] out a lot. . . . I used to order art supplies . . . like construction paper [to] make a light block at night.289Interview with FI.19 at 19.

Another person described an even more audacious approach: “In max facilities, if the light is directly in front of the cell, people have gone so far as to actually paint that side panel [of the light itself] to block out as much [light] as they can.”290Interview with FI.1 at 23.

These strategies are not open to people in dorms, where the lights will generally be too high to cover or paint. Even if someone succeeded in getting at the lights to cover them, the COs would spot it immediately. As one person put it, his frustration apparent, “[T]here were nights [in the dorm] whe[n] I literally had to put my coat over my face, just to get some darkness.”291Interview with FI.24 at 19. Sleeping with something covering the face appears to be the primary way people try to block the light. Various strategies are employed to this end, but none is without downsides. If you use a T-shirt or a towel, it is likely to fall off in the night. When this happens, the sudden light exposure will wake you up. As one person described it, using a towel “would block the light, but when you’re sleeping [and] moving around, the towel comes off, and you are dreaming about light and then you open your eyes to see just why [and find] it’s not a dream.”292Interview with FI.16 at 14. And if one’s T-shirt or towel falls from a top bunk, there is no way to retrieve it without disturbing the occupant of the bottom bunk, who will feel the bed shifting as you get down and get back up.293On the sleep-negating effects of sharing a two-person bunkbed, see infra Section III.A. As we have seen, such maneuvers can create conflict that is best avoided. So, unless you have something else to hand, you are out of luck. If instead you try to cover your head with a blanket, you are likely to be woken up the next time a CO does rounds and insists on seeing your face: “If you slept with a sheet or a blanket [motions with hands over his face/head] . . . to cover your face, [makes knocking motion and imitates CO saying,] ‘I can’t see you. I can’t see you.’ ”294Interview with FI.23 at 15–16. Again, in fairness, COs who wake up people when they can’t see them are only doing their job. As one CO explained it,

You have to look at each cell [and] make sure the[ere’s] somebody in there and make sure they’re moving or breathing. [Did you use a flashlight?] Yeah. [Do you think that would have been disturbing for the people who are trying to sleep?] Some, because we had to see something, a body. [I]f they weren’t covered up all the way . . . —a lot of them [would] leave their foot out underneath the sheet or something like that, and move it—[so we did not have to wake them] . . . [B]ut . . . if we couldn’t see any[thing], we’d knock on the door, and get them up so we can see him.

Interview with CO.12 at 30; see also supra, text accompanying note 259 (quoting CO.38 at 35). But there is no denying the sleep-compromising effects of the process.
Some people try to forestall this disruption by sleeping with one bare foot outside the blanket, but during the winter this approach may leave one too cold to sleep. And even should a person find an effective way to cover their face, it won’t necessarily do the trick, because you “could still feel the light.”295Interview with FI.28 at 13.

In some facilities, enterprising craftspeople make eye masks—a homemade version of the type people get when flying first class. They may even sell eye masks to others. Using an eye mask appears to be the best way for people on top bunks to reduce the intrusive effects of the lights when they are trying to sleep. But this strategy too has its challenges. One problem is that, in many cases, the masks are made from materials taken from items issued by the prison: fabric from T-shirts, cotton from pillows, elastic from boxer shorts. In every facility, destruction of state property is a rules violation, which means that the mask you may rely on if you are to have any hope of sleeping may also be the basis for a write-up.296The impossibility of sufficiently mitigating the intrusiveness of excessive light through any available means of self-help makes a mockery of one line of reasoning found in Eighth Amendment cases addressing claims of excessive light: that plaintiffs’ ability to cover their eyes with a towel or article of clothing negates their claim. See, e.g., Stewart v. Beard, 417 F. App’x 117, 120 (3d Cir. 2011) (affirming dismissal of excessive lighting claim in part because “inmates are permitted to cover their eyes with a pillow or pillowcase”); King v. Frank, 371 F. Supp. 2d 977, 985 (W.D. Wis. 2005) (determining that a “nine-watt fluorescent light that remains lit at all times” did not constitute a violation in part because “inmates are allowed to cover their eyes [with cloth] while sleeping”); Isby v. Brown, 856 F.3d 508, 518 (7th Cir. 2017) (affirming dismissal of an excessive lighting claim, in which the district court found “that any Eighth Amendment concern implicated by twenty-four hour lighting in the [secure housing unit] was negated by the fact that [the plaintiff could] cover his eyes with clothes or towels”). Then there is the fact that, in prison, fully covering one’s eyes (or blocking one’s ears) while asleep can impede a person’s ability to quickly recognize danger. As one person put it,

Sleep is great, but [in prison,] what you don’t want to be is unaware. So . . . wearing earplugs or putting an eye mask on—and actually I did use an eye mask . . . made out of socks—[is not a good idea]. [P]rison’s a place where you want to be aware of your surroundings, and especially if you’re in a dorm environment.297Interview with FI.9 at 4.

All this goes to show how, as prisons currently operate, something as simple as trying to block the light to enable sleep quickly collides with many pathological aspects of prison life, including the delicate dance of conflict avoidance, overly intrusive nighttime CO rounds, the perpetual fear of violence, and the enforcement of what prisoner-turned-criminologist John Irwin labeled “chickenshit” rules.298John Irwin, The Warehouse Prison: Disposal of the New Dangerous Class 161–62 (2005). As with all the causes of sleep deprivation explored in this Part, the sleep-compromising effects of excessive light in prison go well beyond those experienced by nonincarcerated people who may face this issue in their own lives.

IV. Findings II: Meta-Conditions Impeding Sleep in Prison

The conditions discussed in Part III are specific and concrete, of the sort typically considered appropriate targets for more conventional policy reform. But it is also possible to identify a number of what might be called “meta-conditions”299I owe this term to Sasha Natapoff. that also tend to impede sleep in prison. By “meta-conditions,” I mean aspects of the carceral experience that are institutionally pervasive and highly constitutive of life inside, yet so deeply embedded in the life of the prison—so wholly naturalized—that it can be hard to recognize either their destructive impact or the institutional role in their production. In this section, I highlight the sleep-compromising effects of five such conditions: fear of violence, trauma, poverty, overly intrusive rules enforcement, and daily humiliation. As will be seen, there is some thematic overlap here with the discussion in Part III, a function of how, in prison, all aspects of the experience are fundamentally interconnected.

A. Fear of Violence

In prison, the fear of violence is endemic. It compromises sleep in many ways, most profoundly when people are forced into close quarters with others not of their choosing. Whether in a cell or a dorm, it takes time to feel comfortable enough around strangers to fall asleep. People in dorms, who live in company with scores of others, are especially at risk and thus especially apprehensive when arriving in a new environment or when new people enter their unit. But rarely is anyone—even a long-time cellmate with whom one has a good relationship—ever fully trusted, and people pretty much always sleep “with one eye open.”300Interview with FI.7 at 14.

It might be imagined that, in prison, a perpetual fear of assault would keep people awake 24/7. This is not the case. At the same time, in all but the most functional lowest-security facilities,301In low-security facilities, people will make every effort to stay out of trouble so as not to be transferred out. This incentive reduces overall tension along with the fear of violence. See Interview with AH FI.1 at 11 (“I never really worried about my safety per se, because there was no tolerance for any violence at the camp, and everybody wanted to be at the camp. . . . [N]obody fought because if you fought you leave.”); Interview with AH FI.2 at 26 (“[B]ecause [it was] a minimum security place, there were very, very few incidents of violence. I can count the number of fights I saw on one hand . . . because people by and large didn’t want to get transferred out.”). the fear of violence is real, and undermines sleep in numerous ways.302See also Letter from Freddie Fernando Wortham, supra note 99 (“Sleep deprivation comes in many forms here in prison. . . . [M]y worries have always stemmed from the possibility of being sexually assaulted, physically hurt[,] or being stabbed under the politic[s] playing out at the time . . . and [so] not making it out upon one[’]s release date.”). In my interviews, I asked: Did you ever have difficulty sleeping because you were in close proximity to someone you didn’t know or trust? In response, everyone said pretty much the same thing. In double cells, people sleep little when first encountering a new cellmate; it takes time to be comfortable enough to be able to sleep in close quarters with someone who is basically a stranger. “If you’re just entering a cell with somebody new that you don’t know, if this person moved, or you heard the mattress twitch or anything—any slight movement at all—your eyes are wide open.”303Interview with FI.41 at 33. But eventually, “you kind of get comfortable with the person you’re with.”304Interview with FI.5 at 31. As one person described it, when assigned to a cell with “a roommate that [he] did not know,” at first all he could think was, “I do not want this guy to go crazy and try to kill me in my sleep [or] to take my stuff in my sleep.”305Interview with FI.23 at 14; see also Interview with FI.33 at 60 (“[You might be] up all night worrying about, ‘Is this person going to try to rape you?’ or ‘Is somebody going to break in your box?’ ”). It took “a few days to a week to really feel like okay [signals with hand lowering]; the tension is okay and I can sleep.”306Interview with FI.23 at 14. It is not unusual for people to spend years in the same cell with the same bunkmate. In these instances, this initial interference with sleep is brief enough not to be especially significant. But it is also not uncommon for people to be frequently transferred between cells, units or institutions, or to have a rotating series of cellmates. For those in this situation, the disruption to sleep from being in close quarters with others neither known nor trusted can be considerable.

In dorm settings, any influx of new people generates an even greater sense of insecurity.307Honor dorms appear to be the notable exception here. See, e.g., Interview with FI.29 at 15–16. Because of the open setup, “you had to watch your back”308Interview with FI.18 at 6. because “most people know that when a person is asleep, that’s his most vulnerable time because he can’t see the attack coming. And there have been a lot of guys who have been attacked in their sleep.”309Interview with FI.8 at 31. New arrivals are thus always viewed with suspicion, and people will be hesitant to sleep deeply until they can be sure of their own safety:

You’re sleeping with one eye open and one eye closed because you don’t know who you’re in a dormitory with . . . . [I]f a new guy is coming to [the] dorm, everybody’s kind of leery of who this cat is. Everybody’s watching him [to] see how he’s moving, what he’s about. And then it doesn’t happen until you begin to talk to him. You realize, okay, he’s cool. I can go to sleep.310Interview with FI.35 at 34.

Depending on the character of the dorm, people may never feel secure enough to give in to deep sleep. Or they may band together with trusted associates and sleep in shifts, taking turns to watch over each other to ensure that all is well. I heard of this strategy from two people housed in dorms in two very different jurisdictions, one in the Northeast and one in the South. As one person who did his time in the South described it:

[I]n a dormitory setting, so you have a lot of chaos going on. So you might have four guys [who are] really close. And they’ll be like, “Man, look, we’re gonna go take a nap [so] keep an eye out on things,” [which] means, watch over us. So they do for a certain amount of time. . . [a]nd then . . . the guys [who were watching] are going to go to sleep, and [the] other guys [will] stay up.311Interview with FI.25 at 36.

The fear of violence also compromises sleep in other ways. In prison, particularly in high-security facilities, people who are perceived as weak are especially vulnerable to being victimized.312See Sharon Dolovich, Strategic Segregation in the Modern Prison, 48 Am. Crim. L. Rev. 1, 15–18 (2011) (describing the gendered power dynamics in men’s prisons, in which “anyone who can be perceived as at all feminine is assigned the subordinate ‘woman’s’ role” and “regarded as available for emasculation,” making people who, for whatever reason, “come[] across as weak and defenseless,” especially vulnerable to victimization). In dorm settings, where people must sleep out in the open, the stress of feeling oneself to be at risk from innumerable potential assailants can make it very hard to sleep. I asked people this question: Did you ever have trouble sleeping because you felt physically vulnerable or were afraid for your safety? In response, several told the same story: they had gone into prison young or physically diminutive and were only able to gain a sense of security by showing they could fight. As one person described their experience, “I went into prison at 18 years old, 185 pounds, and a very effeminate male. So . . . I was beaten up pretty badly a couple of times [but then] I learned how to very quickly overcome that by becoming the person that nobody wanted to mess with, whether I could back it up or not.”313Interview with FI.28 at 28–29. For those who did not manage to build a reputation of this sort, the ongoing sense of vulnerability would make it very hard to sleep.

Then there are the sleep-disrupting effects of knowing that others around you may be targeted for violence. One man I interviewed lived for twelve years in a dorm setting in a Midwestern prison. Although he did not feel himself to be at risk,314Interview with FI.18 at 32 (explaining that, early in his incarceration, he “had a couple guys that tried to pressure [him] and [he] would fight back, so . . . [he] earned that respect”). he described being assigned a bunk adjacent to that of a “young kid” who was repeatedly sexually assaulted after lights out.315Id. at 32. During his interview, this subject recounted that one night he intervened to protect his neighbor and that, after that, “especially if I see a young kid get attacked, I had to get involved, every time I had to get involved.” Id. at 32, 56. I have no way of knowing whether this account of his response is accurate. It is equally possible that he only wished he had intervened. Even if one were not inclined to come to the defense of someone being attacked (and in prison, there are many good reasons not to intervene, including the desire to avoid becoming a target oneself), people need to be able to achieve some measure of physical relaxation in order to sleep. In environments where such violations are possible, the fear of victimization will be a perennially disruptive force, whether the potential victim is you or someone in your vicinity.

For those in two-person cells, even when you know someone well, trust in a cellmate can only ever be provisional. “In a double cell, even if you become friends with a person, there is still that unsurety of safety. So even the heaviest sleeper [is] sleeping with one eye open.”316Interview with FI.7 at 14. This is because “no matter how high of a level of trust you may have for somebody inside prison, you don’t ever [fully] trust them. So if you hear somebody moving in the middle of the night, you’re paying attention, whether it’s consciously or subconsciously.”317Interview with FI.28 at 31. One subject, a trans woman prisoner who did her time in men’s facilities, described a particular fear related to cellmates. She described how she “was on hormones [and] had breasts, then all of a sudden they would just randomly throw some person in [her] cell who [she didn’t] know”—the implication being that, in addition to everything else, she faced a fear of sexual assault when locked in a cell with a stranger. See Interview with FI.28 at 26.

Although most of the time, most people in prison will not be assaulted while they sleep, the fear of violence, including sexual violence, remains pervasive and never wholly disappears.318Discussing the pervasive fear of sexual assault in prison, noted prison psychologist Craig Haney describes hearing “[o]ver the years” from “countless prisoners . . . that they can ‘feel’ the threat of rape ‘in the air’ around them, or have heard frightening accounts of it having taken place, even if they have not seen it themselves or been directly victimized.” Craig Haney, The Perversions of Prison: On the Origins of Hypermasculinity and Sexual Violence in Confinement, 48 Am. Crim. L. Rev. 121, 129 (2011). Living with such insecurity, in an environment where violence is an ever-present possibility, means that when people sleep, they sleep “light”: “In prison, there is no way in hell you should ever sleep [so] hard that a man can come in the cell and leave and you not know.”319Interview with FI.6 at 39.

This is especially the case for those who are gang-involved or who have affiliations with groups that may require them to engage in collective violence at a moment’s notice. When people in prison talk about “sleeping with their shoes on,” this is what they mean. For example, in the federal system, your state of origin may dictate who you “run with” and thus on whose behalf you may be expected to fight. As one person who spent years in a federal penitentiary explained, for those in this situation, there is no sleeping until the cell doors lock for the night: “[Y]our homeboys, everybody’s on duty. You gotta keep your boots on and just sit there until the CO says it’s time to go lock the doors.”320Interview with FI.27 at 59. And in the morning, the moment “the doors pop, you have to be awake because somebody might run in the cell [and attack you] because something happened in another unit with somebody from the same state you’re [from].”321Id. at 16. Those committed to this arrangement learn not to let themselves sleep deeply so they can always be ready to act quickly if need be.

Those who lack such commitment but who are nonetheless expected to participate in collective violence can lose sleep for different reasons: the stress of being unsure whether to respond when the moment comes, and the fear of retaliatory violence if they opt not to join in. One of my interviewees described exactly this conundrum:

I had some friends in gangs. . . . They would get into situations where it’s like, “Yo, we’re about to move on this dude. . . . [Y]ou a Blood just like we Blood[s] [so] you gotta move with us.” And I see my friends sleep uncomfortable. Because it’s like, man, I’m going to school. I got something good going on. I’m trying to leave that [and] change my life. But if I don’t move with them, . . . I become one of the enemies. There [are] so many different factors . . . to this life in [prison] that sleep is not something that comes by easy.322Interview with FI.14 at 28.

As this person explained it, given all the stresses of life in prison—including the pressure from the gangs and the dangers people may face if they try to remain unaffiliated—“If you’re able to sleep in [prison], you’re almost looked at as [an] extra-terrestrial. You must be [an] alien. No seriously, something is wrong with you if you’re able to sleep [inside].”323Id.

B. Trauma

People in prison are exposed to countless traumatic events, whether experiencing them directly or as witnesses to them. In my interviews, people described seeing people stabbed or beaten to death, flayed open, burned alive, or committing violent acts of self-harm. Experiences like these can leave people terrified for their own safety and may also interfere with sleep as people struggle to process psychologically and emotionally what they have witnessed. Not everyone has this reaction to witnessing senseless violence; many reported becoming inured to the brutality around them. This desensitization may serve a protective function, allowing people to survive impossible circumstances—and perhaps to sleep a little more easily. At the same time, it reveals a core mechanism by which the carceral experience alienates people from their own humanity.

Judging from my interviews, the experience of trauma further compromises the quality and quantity of sleep that people get inside. This dynamic, moreover, is self-reinforcing, as those who sleep poorly after traumatic experiences appear to be more likely to develop post-traumatic stress disorder (“PTSD”) and other mental health conditions324Anne Germain, Sleep Disturbances as the Hallmark of PTSD: Where Are We Now?, 170 Am. J. Psychiatry 372, 376–77 (2013) (“To date, published studies have consistently demonstrated that poor sleep and nightmares occurring soon after trauma exposure predict the onset and persistence of PTSD and other stress-related disorders, including other anxiety disorders, major depression, and addictive disorders.” (footnotes omitted)).—conditions that, among other unwelcome effects, may in turn impede sleep. True, poor sleep is a diagnostic component of many mental health disorders,325See Ruth M. Benca, William H. Obermeyer, Ronald A. Thisted & J. Christian Gillin, Sleep and Psychiatric Disorders: A Meta-Analysis, 49 Arch. Gen. Psychiatry 651, 651 (1992) (“It has long been recognized that abnormal sleep patterns are prominent in virtually all major psychiatric disorders [and] a significant percentage of individuals with subjective sleep complaints have primary psychiatric disorders.”). sometimes raising the question of which came first. But in the case of PTSD, the evidence suggests that sleep disruption itself—in particular, disrupted REM sleep—may provoke the development of PTSD following trauma exposure.326See Matthew P. Walker & Els van der Helm, Overnight Therapy? The Role of Sleep in Emotional Brain Processing, 135 Psych. Bull. 731, 740 (2009) (“Subjective and objective sleep disturbances occurring early after trauma exposure, as well as heightened sympathovagal tone during REM sleep, are associated with an increased risk of meeting criteria for PTSD at subsequent assessments conducted up to 1 year later.”); see also Thomas A. Mellman & Maria Mananita S. Hipolito, Sleep Disturbances in the Aftermath of Trauma and Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, 11 CNS Spectr. 611, 612 (2006) (finding it “likely that disturbed sleep contributes to the development and maintenance of PTSD and healthy sleep facilitates the resolution of traumatic distress”). This possibility is especially concerning given that both persistent trauma exposure and systematically disrupted sleep are hallmark features of the prison experience.

In my interviews, I heard countless stories from people who witnessed deeply disturbing events while incarcerated. These included seeing “somebody get beat to the point where they’re laying in a puddle of blood and they have to be carried away because they can’t walk”;327Interview with FI.14 at 32. seeing “a kid get slammed on his neck and, then you see him getting a white sheet over his body and he’s getting carted off the unit. Or somebody leaking, somebody’s white T-shirt is now red”;328Interview with FI.16 at 28. seeing “one man that was literally cut open from the bottom of his chin to the top of his hips, cut and flayed wide open because they were looking for something they assume that he had swallowed”;329Interview with FI.28 at 29. and seeing “another guy running down the tier with his eyeball bouncing off of his cheek.”330Id. This is just a small sample of the violent incidents I heard about in my interviews. At some point, trying to process the weight of all these accounts, I began asking some version of this question: Did you ever find it hard to sleep because you were traumatized by things that you had seen?

For those who responded in the affirmative, the answers suggested two ways that witnessing traumatic events can interfere with sleep. First, there was the sleep-disrupting effect of the fear engendered by exposure to terrible violence. Seeing the awful things that happened to others made it hard to sleep, “knowing that any given time somebody can choose me as their victim.”331Interview with FI.14 at 32. This effect is of a piece with the fear of violence previously explored. But there was also a second theme that emerged in the answers: the sleep-disruptive effects of the psychological or emotional processing triggered by exposure to trauma, as when “you just keep seeing that same image over and over and over.”332Interview with FI.16 at 28. One person, recounting a particularly vivid and distressing event, effectively captured how the brain’s need to process can make it hard to sleep:

[S]ee[ing] guys have . . . padlocks put on their doors, flammables thrown in on [them], and one guy had been burnt alive. I witnessed this man, that’s gone from someone 6’1”, 6’2” . . . [to] not even eighteen inches long, you know, charcoal, just burnt alive. . . . [W]hen you’re seeing all of these things . . . [s]leep is hard. . . . [Y]ou’re trying to sleep, but you have all these things going on in your head, and any little sound that you hear, you[‘re] coming out of this sleep.333Interview with FI.41 at 10–11 (emphasis added).

Not everyone connected the trauma they experienced to difficulty sleeping. But it is hard to imagine that the quality of one’s sleep would remain unaffected in an environment where such exposure is common.

At the same time, many people reported that the distressing things they saw while they were in prison did not affect their ability to sleep. Over time, they instead became inured to the violence and abuse to which they were exposed:

[While in prison] I saw a lot of violence. But it became, when you see it, you just see and you don’t see, you just sort of get out of the way . . . [and] you keep it moving. Prison teaches you to literally stay in your lane. . . . If it doesn’t affect you, oh well.334Interview with FI.6 at 38–39.

Whatever the example may be—seeing somebody cut, seeing somebody stabbed, seeing an officer beat on somebody, break their arm, or whatever it may be, you get so desensitized that this is natural.335Interview with FI.7 at 55.

Eventually you get numb to all the stuff that happens.336Interview with FI.19 at 34.

It may be that these individuals remained genuinely unaffected emotionally by what they saw and experienced. But the terms they used to describe their state of mind, which included becoming “numb” and “desensitized,” suggested their recognition of the defense mechanisms they were relying on to get through. To experience a state of equanimity in such a traumatizing environment, the level of denial would have to be considerable. If one’s sleep is thereby protected, it may also indicate an alienation from one’s own moral core, a feature of prison’s dehumanizing effect that carries its own psychic and emotional costs.

C. Poverty

Having money in prison does not guarantee a good night’s sleep. But it helps. There are innumerable items that those with money can procure, many directly from the commissary, that may enhance sleep inside: fans to drown out noise, extra clothes for cold nights, high-quality eye masks, softer sheets, and warmer blankets, not to mention sleep-inducing drugs available on the prison’s black market. And those with money can stock up on commissary items, ensuring they will not go to bed hungry. We have already seen that people who lack family support or are otherwise unable to earn what they need may opt to engage in survival strategies that put them in danger, including stealing, gambling, or selling sex or drugs. The official practice of paying incarcerated workers nominal wages—in those jurisdictions that pay them at all—can leave the least well-off people in prison forced to choose between forgoing items that might improve sleep or adopting strategies that could put them at risk of serious physical or sexual harm.

Most people enter prison without financial means.337See, e.g., Adam Looney & Nicholas Turner, The Brookings Inst., Work and Opportunity Before and After Incarceration 7–8, 13 (2018), https://www.brookings.edu/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/es_20180314_looneyincarceration_final.pdf [https://perma.cc/MB2L-WC22] (finding that average earnings among those who worked in the two years prior to their incarceration was $12,780 and that 40–50% of the prison population, across almost all states, grew up in families in the bottom quintile of the income distribution); Lauren G. Beatty & Tracy L. Snell, U.S. Dep’t of Just., NCJ 255037, Profile of Prison Inmates, 2016, at 6 tbl. 2, 19 tbl. 12 (2021), https://bjs.ojp.gov/content/pub/pdf/ppi16.pdf [https://perma.cc/HPK3-LGN7] (reporting that 61.7% of incarcerated persons reported having less than a high school degree, 6.3% reported being homeless in the thirty days before arrest, and 13.5% reported homelessness in the year before arrest). Although most institutions require prisoners to work, the hourly wage—when paid at all338Several states pay incarcerated workers nothing. See Sawyer, supra note 147 (listing Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Texas as paying incarcerated workers no hourly wage at all, and Florida as paying no wages for at least some positions). —is a pittance: on average, between $0.14 and $0.63 an hour.339See Sawyer, supra note 147. Depending on the prison, some people may secure positions with the private industries that operate behind the walls. But even in such cases, although the hourly wage may be considerably higher than the standard prison wage, it will remain far lower than the federal minimum wage340See Fair Labor Standards Act, 29 U.S.C. § 206(a)(1)(C) (setting the federal minimum wage at $7.25 an hour).—typically somewhere between $0.33 and $1.41 an hour.341See Sawyer, supra note 147. Some fortunate few can make even more: one person I spoke to trained call center agents for a private company. He reported making $285 per month (roughly $1.80 an hour), in contrast to the kitchen workers in his facility, who made around $30 per month (roughly $0.19 an hour).342Interview with FI.29 at 27. But these relatively well-paid opportunities are rare,343Even when paid work is available, it is not open to everyone. Some people, most notably those with disabilities, may be unable to work at all. and as we have seen,344See supra Section III.B. if people are to have access to money while in prison, they must either get it from loved ones outside345Even for those family members on the outside who are well-resourced, supporting someone doing a long bid is an expensive proposition. See, e.g., Interview with FI.9 at 17 (“I had help coming from outside, . . . probably . . . a couple hundred bucks a month coming from family. Add that up over six years, it’s a lot of money.”). or find off-the-books ways to earn it.

Although everyone in prison, regardless of financial status, faces serious obstacles to getting adequate sleep, access to money can help improve one’s odds. Many people mentioned buying fans from the commissary, “the whole point [of which is] to drown out the noise from the tier.”346Interview with FI.19 at 15. As one person explained, echoing an experience shared by many, “I could not sleep without my fan. I pretty much set it up right by my head . . . to help drown out the other ambient noise . . . outside the cell.”347Interview with FI.3 at 9. But fans that do the trick do not come cheap in prison—the most durable of them can cost up to $40.348See Weill-Greenberg & Corey, supra note 146 (finding, in an analysis of prison commissary pricing, that in “Delaware, an 8-inch fan at Sussex Correctional Institution cost almost $40,” in “Georgia, where most prison labor is unpaid, a 10-inch electric fan was marked up more than 25 percent and cost about $32,” and in “Mississippi, an 8-inch fan was sold for $29.95”). At the same time, according to Ethan Corey, co-author of the study Locked in, Priced out, an “investigation into prison commissary prices across the country” published by The Appeal in 2024, found that “many prison systems do not make electric fans available for sale in their commissaries.” Email from Ethan Corey, supra note 211. When Corey analyzed the data collected by The Appeal for their report, he found that “[o]f the 46 states that responded to [their] records requests, only 30 offered electric fans for sale. The omissions included several states lacking air-conditioning in most or all facilities, despite being in areas that experience extreme heat during the summer (e.g., Arkansas, Maryland, and Florida).” Id. For a compilation of air-conditioning and heat mitigation policies by state, see Elizabeth Weill-Greenberg, As Climate Change Worsens, Deadly Prison Heat Is Increasingly an Everywhere Problem, The Appeal (Aug. 29, 2024), https://theappeal.org/prison-heat-deaths-climate-change [https://perma.cc/YS4E-QVC6]. Given the extremely low wages paid to incarcerated workers, a fan could cost almost a month’s earnings.349See Weill-Greenberg & Corey, supra note 146 (reporting that “Indiana prisons charged about $33 for an 8-inch fan, even though a similar item sells online for about $23 at Lowe’s,” and noting that prisoners in Indiana “can earn as little as 30 cents an hour, meaning it could take more than 100 hours of work to afford the fan”). And if a person still chooses to buy one—which they well might, if it means the difference between sleeping and not sleeping—they would have little left over for other necessities like food or basic hygiene products.350Unless they had friends who would feed them and share soap, shampoo, and other necessaries, this situation would leave them both hungry and feeling dirty and unclean—two conditions that can make it hard to fall asleep.

Money, or the lack thereof, impacts sleep in other ways. Those with resources to spare can buy extra clothes—sweatshirts, warm socks, etc.—to help keep themselves warm on cold nights.351Of the 46 state DOC commissary lists analyzed by the authors of the report Locked in, Priced out, only “13 states offer[ed] extra blankets for sale in their commissary.” Email from Ethan Corey, supra note 211. But where they are available, they are expensive. In Indiana prisons, “thermal blankets [sell] for about $13 [and] [i]n Oklahoma [prisons], a blanket can cost as much as $50.57 (2023 prices).” Id. They can buy softer sheets352See Interview with FI.7 at 44 (“[I]f you can afford to purchase them or if your family sends you—you are allowed to have two personal sets of sheets other than the allotted.”). and warmer blankets. They can buy marijuana, heroin, Seroquel, or other sleep-inducing substances on the prison’s black market,353People would also barter for prescription drugs. See, e.g., Interview with FI.29 at 26. (“I do know a lot of guys that would trade medication for certain types of pills that would allow them to sleep.”). as several of my interviewees reported doing.354See, e.g., Interview with FI.33 at 48 (marijuana); Interview with FI.5 at 11 (heroin); Interview with FI.23 at 30 (marijuana, heroin); Interview with FI.35 at 31(heroin, Seroquel). If they are not themselves skilled with a needle, they can pay someone to make them a top-shelf eye mask.355See Email from Ethan Corey, supra note 211 (“[M]ost states do not offer sleep masks/eye masks for sale in their commissaries. Only 6 of the 46 states that responded had eye masks on offer. Prices ranged from $0.94 to $6.45.”). They can buy a second fan to cool their bodies on hot nights. And if they use a CPAP machine, assuming power strips are allowed, they can buy one356See, e.g., Interview with FI.16 at 9 (“[How do you get a power strip? Do you get them from the commissary?] “Yeah, you’ve got to buy them, they’re like [exaggerating to make the point] $8000 for four little plugs.”). to guarantee themselves access to a plug without risking getting into a fight over control of the wall sockets with a cellmate or others in the dorm. These advantages may seem minor. But for people in prison, they may mean the difference between eking out a few solid hours of sleep or being consigned to sleepwalking through another day.

Still, when it comes to being able to sleep, the primary reason to want money or its equivalent is to ensure you have ready access to food. As we have seen, “if you don’t have the money, you can’t eat, and . . . you can’t

sleep if you’re hungry.”357Interview with FI.20 at 32. As one person explained, if he didn’t have much money on his books,

I might not have been able to buy as much canteen [as I needed], so I would go through it. . . . When you’re hungry it’s hard to budget it and make it through. Like one night . . . I’m trying to go to sleep and I’d be hungry so that I would go in and eat some [food items that had been] budgeted for later on [in] the week. But I just I had to eat it then. . . . Eventually, though, when I started getting more money, [hunger interfering with sleep] wasn’t a factor.358Interview with FI.3 at 33.

The lengths to which people will go to get money for food are a testament to the urgency of the need. One person I spoke to, who had no family support, “started gambling and stealing while [she] was in there to provide for [herself],” because “[o]nce you[’re] full, you can sleep better.”359Interview with FI.20 at 20. It is hard to overstate the desperation that would drive a person in prison to engage in either of these strategies. Someone caught stealing may earn a violent reprisal from the victim of the theft.360In prison, there is enormous pressure on victims of theft to respond with violence, else they convey the impression that they are an easy mark, inviting further victimization. See Sharon Dolovich, Two Models of the Prison: Accidental Humanity and Hypermasculinity in the L.A. County Jail, 102 J. Crim. L. & Criminology 965, 1041 n.310 (2012) (explaining that, in prison, “any show of disrespect that is not answered with force can make a person look weak and tempt others to test him with ever more extreme shows of disrespect,” and that therefore “any show of disrespect, however minor, is treated very seriously and will frequently be met with violence”). And gambling is equally risky. It is a sure-fire way to get into debt, and in prison, the penalty for nonpayment of debts is often physical violence or forced sexual servitude.361See id. at 984–85 & 984 n.71.

Another risky, last-resort strategy is “two-for-one,” the prison loan-sharking practice whereby someone with a load of commissary will provide you with something you want—say, a candy bar, a bag of chips, or a soup. The catch is that, when the next day for canteen rolls around, you have to pay back double what you borrowed—two candy bars, two bags of chips, or two soups. If you can’t, the quantity owed doubles again. This is another way people in prison can get into debt, which, again, can result in violence or pressure for sex. “[Y]ou have dudes who are wealthier than others who max out every canteen . . . , and they sell stuff to guys. ‘Well I’ll give you one for two back.’ ”362Interview with FI.14 at 24. Or “[t]hey won’t tell you it’s two-for-one. [T]hey’ll say, ‘Here’s a box of [cookies].’ Then . . . [the] next week you owe double, . . . they’d say, ‘[W]ell, we could exchange it for sexual favors.’ That’s how they were trapping these young kids coming in.”363Interview with FI.18 at 28. According to my interviews, the desire to avoid going to sleep hungry is a major reason why people risk putting themselves in this position. Note that at least some of this felt pressure to access commissary, which can drive people to act in ways that could put them in serious danger, would be alleviated if prisons simply made decent food available to everyone in the evenings before lights-out.

These dynamics mean that those without money—the prison’s poorest, who lack outside support or the ability to accrue funds while inside—experience appreciably worse conditions than those with means. To some, this situation may seem unproblematic, just how the world is. But as the example of sleep makes clear, what is at stake is not simply differential access to luxury items. Sleep is a basic human need, and insufficient sleep causes considerable harm to physiological, psychological, emotional, and cognitive health. To the extent that poverty leaves some people less able to mitigate the sleep-disrupting aspects of the prison environment, poor people are experiencing a harsher, more destructive punishment than that experienced by those with access to funds.

D. Overly Intrusive Rules Enforcement

In prison, virtually every aspect of a person’s life is governed by rules enforced by COs. Many of the strategies people adopt to try to improve the quality of their sleep run afoul of these rules. This situation leaves people forced to choose between breaking the rules—and possibly getting written up, but perhaps eking out slightly improved sleep—or following the rules and forgoing small comforts (an extra mattress, a light cover, some food held back from a tray to eat before lights out) that might help them sleep. The stress involved in making this choice itself compromises sleep, especially for those who opt to roll the dice and break the rules. Compounding the problem is the fact that penalties for minor rule violations of the sort at issue here often include loss of commissary or yard privileges, thus depriving people of access to food and exercise—two pathways for improved sleep available to those in prison.

Pretty much every aspect of a prisoner’s life is governed by rules.364See Kitty Calavita & Valerie Jenness, Appealing to Justice: Prisoner Grievances, Rights, and Carceral Logic 73 (2015) (explaining that, in prison, regulation “governs every aspect of [prisoners’] behavior and scrupulously rations the goods that supply their daily needs”). Enforcement authority belongs to line officers, who, when they witness a rules violation, may issue a ticket (also known as a “shot”). The most extreme violations, which generally involve physical violence, may earn the perpetrator delayed release and even additional charges. In cases involving less serious offenses, penalties are less severe but still deeply undesirable. They may include time in ad seg, lockdown in one’s own cell, or temporary loss of yard time, commissary, phone privileges, or even shower access. As with law enforcement on the outside, COs have considerable discretion when enforcing prison regulations. As one person put it, discussing light covers, “[M]aybe when you go to sleep at night, the CO doesn’t care [so] they let you do it. But then the next shift comes on, and then they’ll bang on the door, [and] you’ll take that down.”365Interview with FI.3 at 18–19 If the violation involves possession of contraband—which generally means any item not directly issued by the prison or purchased directly from the commissary—a CO may choose only to confiscate the offending item, or they may confiscate it and issue a write-up, potentially exposing the offender to some form of penalty.

Many rules enforced through this system serve valid institutional purposes; few people would quarrel with prison prohibitions on physical violence or the distribution of narcotics. But innumerable other “chickenshit rules” penalize conduct that is less obviously necessary to maintaining institutional order.366Irwin, supra note 298, at 161–62. As Irwin has observed, “[M]any of [the facility’s] rules intrude into prisoners’ ordinary practices and significantly interfere with their attempts to carry on their already excessively reduced life routines.”367Id. at 161. In other words, people inside may find themselves at risk of punishment simply for trying to make intolerable conditions slightly more bearable.

This effect is certainly evident in the context of sleep. One person I spoke to clearly captured this dilemma. As he explained, “[I]f the light was right in front of my window, I would cover it up. And then that’s usually when the CO would bang on the window, . . . but then I would just take it down and put it right back up. . . . I was basically being forced to break the rules to be able to sleep.”368Interview with FI.30 at 25. The use of light covers is only one example of a

standard strategy for improving sleep that violates prison rules and can expose people to sanctions should they get caught.369It was an altercation over a refusal to remove a light cover that sparked the use of force at issue in Kingsley v. Hendrickson, in which the Supreme Court established “objective unreasonableness” as the standard governing Fourteenth Amendment excessive force claims arising from jail. See Kingsley v. Hendrickson, 576 U.S. 389, 396–97 (2015). For a detailed analysis of the Kingsley facts, see Dolovich, Excessive Force in Prison, supra note 80, at 439–44. Among other things, it is generally against the rules to:

  • Drape a sheet from the top bunk to curtain off one’s bottom bunk (a.k.a. make a “tent”);370Interview with AH FI.12 at 24 (“[E]ven if you were on the lower bunk, you couldn’t do anything to deliberately block the light because . . . guards would claim that you were blocking their view of seeing you.”).
  • Cover the vents371Interview with FI.30 at 26–27 (explaining that in his facility, the wind coming out of the vents was “like a tornado” and as loud as “a jet engine. . . . It literally would blow stuff off the shelf on the other side of the cell,” so everyone would cover the vents with plastic bags, but if you got caught, it was a “mandatory . . . rule violation report”). or windows;372Interview with FI.9 at 15 (explaining that, in one facility he was in, “in January and February, the windows were literally stuck open. And it was against the rules to stuff blankets or towels in the windows. . . . [The] window closing mechanism was broken. . . . so it was freezing in there all the time”).
  • Shower outside designated hours (especially on cellblocks);373See infra note 392.
  • Possess an extra mattress;374Interview with FI.21 at 18 (“Oh my god, you’d be in solitary for evermore if you had [an extra mattress] because you’d have had to st[eal] [it] from somebody—there wouldn’t have been a place to get one.”).
  • Possess an extra blanket or sheet;375Interview with AH FI.1 at 7–8 (“They always had the air conditioning super high[;] it was always cold. And we’re only allowed to have like two blankets. So . . . we would steal or try to hide extra blankets just because it got so cold. [And what would happen if you got caught with an extra blanket?] You could get written up and get privileges taken away.”).
  • Destroy state property (including the shorts, T-shirts, or stuffing from mattresses or pillows used for making eye masks);376Interview with FI.5 at 21 (explaining that, during periods of intense heat, “you’d be sweating . . . so most people . . . would wrap their mattress with a blanket, or sheet [to] . . . separate [them] from the heat of the plastic on the mattress. But [some people] would just tear the cover off and sleep on the foam itself. But . . . [the COs] would write you up for that and nobody wants to get charged for destruction of state property”).
  • Remove food from the dining hall;377Interview with FI.27 at 46 (“You’re not supposed to . . . bring the food out [of the chow hall]. Sometimes, you’re gonna get caught.”); Interview with FI.38 at 41 (“I’d smuggle out the sugar from breakfast—which is against the rules too, right? You could get in trouble, that’s smuggling—so I could have a sweet bread at night. And I’d wait as late as possible, like 9:00, 10:00, 11:00 when I was gonna go to sleep and then just put bread and sugar and eat it.”).
  • Store food from the dining hall in one’s cell;
  • Hold back food from trays.

Rules thus prohibit precisely the strategies that many people use to try to improve the quality and quantity of their sleep in the face of excessive light, excessive heat or cold, uncomfortable beds or inadequate bedding, and insufficient food. To compound the problem, the penalties for such violations may include loss of commissary privileges and loss of yard time. Yet, as we have seen, without access to food, people will often be forced to go to bed hungry, a state that considerably impedes sleep. And for many people, vigorous exercise is a way to “exhaust themselves, [so it’s] that much easier to go to sleep at night.”378Interview with FI.1 at 33. Without access to the yard, this strategy is more difficult to operationalize, and sleep becomes that much harder.379Interview with FI.8 at 7 (explaining that, to improve his chances of sleeping at night, he would “work all day, then come back and jog or play basketball . . . [to try to] wear [him]self out”).

The perverse structure of this arrangement tells us everything we need to know about the moral orientation of the carceral system toward those inside. First, the prison operates in innumerable ways to undermine prisoners’ ability to sleep. Then, COs police the housing units to ferret out any items beyond each person’s allotment—items they may have expended considerable effort to assemble to try to improve their sleeping environment and perhaps increase their chances of getting a little more sleep. These items are then confiscated, a move that strips the possessor of the benefits, however slight, the seized items may have offered. COs are then empowered to impose penalties likely only to compromise still further a person’s ability to sleep. It is tempting to call this system Kafkaesque, except that, for Kafka, the bureaucracies that outrage and dehumanize are so infuriating in part because their procedures have no moral valence and are simply manifesting their own internal imperatives. In the prison, the cruelty of the process just sketched is of a piece with the callous indifference with which the institution and its COs seem to regard the daily hardships faced by those in their custody.

For those on the receiving end, COs’ interference with their efforts to improve the sleep they get may seem spiteful and even sadistic. And in some instances, this impression may be apt. It does, however, bear noting that COs’ decisions as to how to exercise their considerable discretion vis-à-vis rule violations may also be shaped to some degree by the institutions’ own pathological impact on the COs themselves—including, ironically, the chronic sleep deprivation that is a standard comorbidity experienced by those in the role.380See Dolovich, “Forever Tired,” supra note 13. When COs are sleep deprived—a condition almost certainly exacerbated by the host of other comorbidities to which COs are disproportionately prone, including depression, alcohol overuse, PTSD, and suicidality381See id.; Sharon Dolovich, No Walking Away: How Paying Attention to Correctional Officers Will Help Us Understand the Harms American Incarceration Causes, Marq. Law. 24 (Fall 2025) (this article is an edited text of the George Barrock Lecture in Criminal Law).—they become less able to treat the incarcerated with consideration and sympathy.382As one officer I interviewed put it, when COs are tired from lack of sleep, “Your attention span gets shorter, your fuse gets shorter, [as does] your ability to accept the fact that that they’re a person trying to live their life in there. And you don’t care . . . ,” because in the moment, all you can see is that “they’re the inmate, you’re the CO, [and] they [must] do what you tell them to do.” Interview with CO.25 at 19. To the extent that prisoners’ sleep is compromised by exposure to rules unevenly and unpredictably enforced by people who at times seem incapable of basic human sympathy and understanding, the resulting frustration may be less a product of individual spite than the broader operational logic of a system that is blind to the humanity of all parties, incarcerated and COs alike.

Yet however incapacitated COs may be by the hours they must keep and the conditions in which they work, it is the prisoners who are forced to daily navigate a challenging context in which any efforts they make to alleviate conditions of extreme discomfort are liable at any moment to be nixed by those COs who for whatever reason are not inclined to look the other way.383In interviews undertaken with COs as part of this study, I asked some version of this question: Are COs more likely to write people up because they are tired from lack of sleep? Some said yes, “because they don’t want to deal with the inmates so the fastest way to get them off the housing unit is to write them up [and] send them to [seg].” Interview with CO.1 at 50. Others said no, because writing people up “involves paperwork,” and “it’s going to take up more time [to do that] than if they just let them go.” Interview with CO.12 at 31. As a consequence, not only do people in prison expend considerable energy strategizing how they might improve their sleeping environment, but a good part of this effort turns out to involve a constant process of weighing the benefit to be gained from a rules violation against the odds of getting caught and incurring a penalty. As I wrote in my field notes after one interview, “even if you weren’t going to get written up, even if the staff weren’t going to give you a ticket for an extra blanket or an extra mattress or whatever, there’s always the stress of knowing they could do it.”384Interview with FI.19 at 1 (field notes). It was only after I had stopped recording that this individual raised the issue about the nature of rules enforcement and what it meant for sleep. For the procedure I followed in instances of this sort, see Appendix A. In this situation, “you were always trading the ability to be slightly more relaxed and not able to sleep”—because, in a bid to reduce stress, you opted not to avail yourself of the strategies that might help make sleep possible—against “put[ting] yourself in a position where you were stressed about whether you were going get into trouble just to improve [your] sleep a little bit.”385 Id.

The stress this situation occasions can be both considerable and relentless. For example, as one interviewee reported, there were days when, as frequently happens, the people on his tier were not able to shower:

And you don’t want to go to sleep sweaty and dirty [because] that really impedes the ability to sleep. [So] you would have to find a way to sneak out of your cell to get a shower just so you would be able to sleep. So how would you do that? Well, if there was a time when tier 1 was supposed to be on the floor and the mezzanine, [and] tier 2 is supposed to be in their cells, you might sneak out of your cell even when you were supposed to be in it. Or you would try to get them to open your cell door for some reason and then grab a shower.

       In other words, “it was hard to sleep when you weren’t clean and [there was] also stress involved in trying to get a shower when there is no time available for you to do it.”386Id.

Note that the goals driving this stressful negotiation of prison rules—sleeping, eating, keeping warm, showering—are at once basic requisites of human functioning and integral to maintaining one’s own humanity and sense of self. And, of course, the frustration occasioned by the enforcement of what are widely experienced as petty rules is also likely to interfere with the ability to get restful sleep.

E. Daily Humiliations

Every day, people in prison receive multiple reminders that the system regards them as undeserving of consideration and respect. At night, as we have seen, staff members conduct count and security rounds often without seeming to care whether they wake up the people sleeping around them. And similar demonstrations of callous disregard persist all day long: the incarcerated find their health problems minimized, their reasonable requests peremptorily denied, and their valid grievances ignored by prison officials at all levels. These routine humiliations understandably leave people frustrated, humiliated, resentful, and outraged. These feelings do not simply dissipate once an interaction is over. They persist and fester, making it even harder for people already coping with countless sleep-impeding obstacles to fall or stay asleep at night.

On a daily basis, people in prison are treated in myriad ways as if they are morally worthless. One manifestation of this attitude recurs nightly, when many COs appear to make no effort to do their rounds quietly. Instead, many behave as if the beds around them are empty, as if they are not surrounded by human beings who are trying to sleep—as if, as one person put it, “[T]hey don’t see you [or] your head right by the pillow that [they]’re standing next to.”387Interview with FI.16 at 32.

Nighttime noise by staff doing rounds wakes people up, thereby directly interfering with prisoners’ sleep. But there is a second, more subtle sleep-disrupting effect of this intrusive conduct: it forces the incarcerated to perpetually confront the disdain in which they are held, an experience that can spark feelings of helplessness, frustration, and rage that themselves impede sleep. Imagine how hard it would be to fall asleep if, every night, thoughts like these were swirling around in your head:

So on top of already fighting to get some type of sleep, those little couple of hours that you may get, then it’s interrupted by [the COs] . . . . [A] lot of them . . . have no type of empathy at all. . . . [Y]ou’re asleep [and] they don’t care. You’re an animal. This is the[ir] house [so] you got to do what they say, when they say, how they say.388Interview with FI.14 at 49.

[F]rom the officer’s perspective, they were . . . told like, “[H]ey, look, your job, and the way this job is supposed to be done, is more important than any of these inmates’ sleep.” W]e were . . . pieces of trash. We were manipulators, and we weren’t to be trusted so who cared what we thought and . . . that’s what [we] get for being in prison

It’s a power issue. You ask them to keep it down or something like that, they’re gonna look at you like, . . . ‘[W]ho the hell are you? Yeah. Right.’ And they’ll spite you [by being] even louder. . . . 389Interview with FI.22 at 13.

As one person I spoke to observed, “[S]leep is more than just laying down and resting your body. [To] sleep, your mind needs rest as well—being able to actually go to sleep and not have to worry about anything, [to] just be comfortable in that moment and let your body and . . . mind rest.”390Interview with FI.14 at 10. Far from promoting a restful mind, daily humiliation seems far more likely to

achieve the opposite. Compounding this effect is the way those in this position must swallow these feelings—however justified—because to express them would be to court retaliation that among other hardships would only guarantee still further sleep disruption.391Even in low-security prisons, to get on the wrong side of staff is to risk retaliation. This might play out as a CO refusing to move you to a bottom bunk or “mak[ing] sure that you never got called in the morning [for programs or visits].” Interview with AH FI.2 at 30. Or, if you worked as a porter responsible for cleaning a given area, “nine times out of ten, they’re not real picky about . . . the way things are, but if they don’t like you, suddenly you’re cleaning for hours on end.” Id. at 30.

The ethos of contempt and callous disregard reflected in the behavior of many COs on the night shift also manifests in multiple ways during the day. Staff ignore the needs of those in their custody, refuse their reasonable requests, and target them for abusive treatment, whether out of malevolence, caprice, or poor judgment sparked by their own intense sleep deprivation.392See Dolovich, “Forever Tired,” supra note 13 (exploring the causes of sleep deprivation among COs). In future work, I will further explore the implications for the operation of the prison of the fact that everyone in prison—incarcerated and CO alike—is sleep deprived. Medical personnel dismiss prisoners’ symptoms, deny requests for x-rays or specialist access, and pass them off with ibuprofen and pamphlets. Access to loved ones, both by phone and in person, is highly restricted, often for no reason other than official caprice. Life is constantly governed by “chickenshit rules,” which can seem designed more to demean than to address genuine institutional needs.393See Irwin, supra note 298, at 161–62. Grievance procedures are generally byzantine, and complaints, however meritorious, are almost always denied.394In one landmark study of prison grievances in California, the authors found that, of the grievances in their data set, only 0.2% were granted in full, and 4.7% were granted “in part,” with many of the so-called partial grants being “more symbolic than real.” Calavita & Jenness, supra note 364, at 44–45. For example, a person who alleged that the treatment he received amounted to “racial/cultural discrimination” was said to have received a “partial grant” because the reviewing officer acknowledged that “staff will not discriminate against prisoners regardless of race, ethnicity, or culture.” Id. at 45 (“Summing up the symbolic nature of partial grants, [one senior reviewing official] told us, ‘Almost every partial grant is pro forma.’ ”). When disciplinary infractions require a hearing, these hearings often feel like shams, with those officials serving as adjudicators virtually always siding with the CO who wrote the ticket.395See id. at 45, 118 (quoting Dave Manning, an official with the California Office of Internal Affairs, who acknowledged that he “believe[s] staff over inmates. Always. Always. Always.”). Even the Supreme Court has recognized the conflict of interest that compromises the fairness of internal prison disciplinary hearings. In Cleavinger v. Saxner, 474 U.S. 193, 193 (1985), presiding members of a federal prison’s disciplinary committee were sued for violations of due process. In defense, they asserted a right to the absolute immunity generally afforded those state actors who serve an adjudicatory function. Id. The Court rejected this argument, finding the suggestion that members of the committee were “independent” in the way due process requires “to ignore reality.” Id. at 203. Rather, the Court noted, hearing officers are

prison officials, albeit no longer of the rank and file, temporarily diverted from their usual duties. They are employees of the Bureau of Prisons and they are the direct subordinates of the warden who reviews their decision. They work with the fellow employee who lodges the charge against the inmate upon whom they sit in judgment. The credibility determination they make often is one between a co-worker and an inmate. They thus are under obvious pressure to resolve a disciplinary dispute in favor of the institution and their fellow employee.

Id. at 204 (citation omitted).

The relentlessness of these humiliations can take a deep emotional toll, leaving people feeling frustrated, resentful, disrespected, and outraged. Such feelings are not conducive to sleep, to say the least. In my interviews, I asked people what they thought would have to change to enable people in prison to get adequate sleep. Multiple people spoke about the dehumanizing treatment that they experienced daily, the constant reminders of their own powerlessness, and the pleasure staff seemed to take in ignoring their needs. One interviewee described what this treatment looks like in real time:

[For example,] I gotta go to school. Now I gotta ring the doorbell on the cell one thousand times for this individual to let me out. When you coming back from school [you might] want to use the restroom, but the officer got me out here waiting forty-five minutes. When we’re going to yard, we[’re] delay[ed] forty minutes and now when we get to the yard, instead of getting an hour and a half, we get thirty minutes in the yard. . . . It’s just little components of them treating us like [we]’re not human beings.396Interview with FI.31 at 48.

Or consider this account of a cell search:

When [COs] come in to search your cell, they don’t just nicely pick things up and put them back down. It looks like a hurricane ran through your room. They literally flip your bed over, your pillow is on the ground, your sheets are on the ground, your stuff gets mixed in with your bunkie’s stuff. Your clothes are all over the floor, your food’s mixed everywhere. Some [COs] will take the jelly and just squeeze it on your bed for no reason. . . . [T]hey come in and they destroy. That’s what they do.397Interview with FI.19 at 37–38; see supra note 163 (quoting CO who acknowledged that cell searches often take this form).

When this is your daily experience, when nighttime rolls around, the state of relaxation requisite for sleep remains elusive. One woman I spoke to was especially eloquent on this point. What she said is worth quoting at length:

[I]f we’re constantly having these bad interactions, these bad experiences, and the culture isn’t conducive, or it always . . . undermine[s] you and . . . makes you less than and makes you feel worthless and all these other things—you’re not going to sleep like oh, I conquered the world today. No, you’re going to sleep feeling like shit, feeling even worse than you’ve felt. . . . I go to the freaking clinic to get medication for . . . a toothache and I get treated like a fucking drug addict. And [I] don’t even get any Motrin, so I’m not going to sleep feeling too good. . . . And then when you’re constantly looking at me and talking down to me as if I’m less than you, [as] if I’m not a person, . . . all those things don’t make for a good night’s sleep. You don’t feel good at the end of the night. . . . [A]nd not only that, but the setting in general . . . doesn’t make it conducive for family reunification. They make it even harder for you to have relationships [and] more so [for] women. [T]he women’s prison, geographically where it’s placed, is in the middle of nowhere. So all the people that often are coming into the prison settings live so freaking far away. . . . [T]hese inner cities are so far away from this rural fucking place in [location of prison] in the middle of nowhere, that it makes it hard for you to have visits, to have a constant contact with your family or the . . . how much is it? Fifty cents a minute a phone call? When we’re making one dollar a day on our freakin’ wages? Like, seriously? So all these things just work to produce even more stressors and, as we all know, when I’m super stressed throughout the day, all that’s happening at the end of the night when it comes time for me to sleep is these things [are] replaying in my head . . . and making me feel even more incompetent and worthless.398Interview with FI.22 at 46–47.

In short, sleep will not come easily to people who are constantly humiliated.

Like those conditions canvassed in Part III, the conditions discussed in this Part contribute significantly to the inability of people in prison to get adequate sleep. If there is a difference to draw, it lies in the pervasiveness of these “meta-conditions,” the extent to which each is woven into the carceral project. While the more concrete and specific conditions described in Part III appear tied to policy decisions concerning prison administration and operations, the conditions described in this Part seem to arise directly from the culture and ethos of the American prison. Yet, as far as moral valence goes, the distinction I have drawn between the more concrete sleep-impeding conditions and what I have labelled “meta-conditions” may not much signify. Whatever the moral orientation of individual COs, all the conditions that systematically compromise the potential for sleep in prison reflect a system shaped at its core by a callous indifference to the well-being of the incarcerated, a blindness to their humanity, and a refusal to accord those in custody the basic consideration and respect owed to any fellow human. This moral injury is part of the daily experience of imprisonment. And as the foregoing has shown, among the innumerable practical manifestations of this systematic institutional disdain is the persistent interference with the fundamental human need for sleep.

V. Implications: Prisons, Punishment, Law, Policy

This Part begins to explore the normative implications of chronic sleep deprivation in prison. Section A considers, as a descriptive matter, what this phenomenon adds to our understanding of the prison experience. Section B flags several ways the inevitability of chronic sleep deprivation deepens the punitive character of the carceral penalty. Section C offers a first cut at the core constitutional question—whether the conditions mapped in this Article violate the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment. It also touches on a question that frequently arises when I discuss this work: whether the conditions chronicled here constitute torture. Finally, Section D offers some thoughts on the prospects for policy change and the challenges that await efforts to tangibly improve sleep in prison. For reasons of space, my contributions on these topics will necessarily be brief. The aim here is twofold: to begin mapping the normative implications of the problem, and to offer preliminary thoughts on the four dimensions identified here in the hope of sparking a broader conversation.

A. Prisons: Sleep Deprivation and Carceral Life

Prior to the interviews, many of my subjects had given little thought to their experiences of sleep inside, or to how those experiences shaped their time in prison.399At the end of each Zoom interview, after I stopped recording, many of my interview subjects said that this was the first time they had ever really thought about their experiences of sleeping/trying to sleep inside or even realized that they had spent much of their time in prison in a sleep-deprived state. Yet what I learned during those conversations brought into focus certain basic realities of prison life that have, until now, been largely unrecognized, not only among many of my interviewees, but also among those who study incarceration. Below, in no particular order, I identify four such implications.400There remains much more to be said in this vein. What I say here is intended just as a first cut.

First, chronic sleep deprivation is a constitutive feature of life in prison. Regularly getting insufficient sleep—night after night, for months, years, and even decades—is as central to the daily experience of incarceration as lousy food, crushing boredom, grossly inadequate medical and mental health care, solitary confinement, and the perpetual fear of physical or sexual violence from staff or fellow prisoners. Being sleep deprived is an intrinsic part of what it means to be inside.

True, people in prison sometimes manage to get decent sleep. In some cases, housing configuration makes the difference. Virtually everyone I spoke to agreed that people in single cells sleep much better than anyone else.401This preference for single-celling may have a gendered dimension. For women in prison, the greatest threat to their personal safety—particularly from sexual violence—stems from staff, and a cellmate may offer a degree of protection from harm. As a result, women in prison may feel safer, and thus sleep more soundly, with a cellmate than if they were housed alone. I thank Chesa Boudin for raising this issue, which warrants further study. As one person memorably put it, “[T]he best cellie is no cellie.”402Interview with FI.17 at 29. In other instances, people can benefit from their own wise choices. One person I spoke to spent thirty-seven years in prison. He reported that, especially in later years, he was able to get sufficient sleep and wake feeling rested. He credited several aspects of the life he built in prison for this atypical experience, including staying out of prison politics (“not trying to be king of the jail”), making peace with not being able to control the behavior of loved ones on the outside (not “trying to live one foot in prison and one foot in the world”), and building a supportive religious community of fellow Orthodox Muslims who bunked together and provided one another with “comfort and security.”403Interview with FI.2 at 58–59. FI.2 seemed to have two benefits in mind here—a calmer coexistence with one’s cellmate and an enhanced sense of personal safety. As he put it, “there was actually protection by being a member of that group . . . [and] it was ideal to be in a cell with another Muslim because we prayed together . . . and that made for peace.” Id. at 59. This set of experiences was echoed by the only other person I spoke to who reported getting decent sleep inside. FI.11 credited her ability to sleep in prison to having found a community of religious women who supported each other. She “started going to church and . . . hav[ing] a relationship with God,” which “really helped.” Interview with FI.11 at 30. This community helped her “fill[] [her] days” and “keep busy, because when you’re busy, your days go by quickly, and before you know it you’re out [i.e., asleep].” Id. at 31. She also had “active jobs” that kept her “literally running around” all day. Id. at 21. Yet even still, she reported that getting “a good night’s sleep” was a challenge, because “you’ll never know what’s going to happen or what’s going to wake you up.” Id. at 25. He was also an accomplished artist, which compounded his sense of purpose and seemed to enhance the personal equanimity that helped him sleep. Yet he also described multi-year stretches over his long incarceration during which he slept far less.404Interview with FI.2 at 9, 11–15 (describing long stretches over the course of his incarceration during which he slept 3–4 or 4–6 hours per night). And even in single cells—the equivalent of temporarily winning the prison sleep lottery405See Interview with FI.17 at 29 (“I had a single cell for six months . . . . [T]hat’s the best sleep I had [in prison].”). But see supra note 402 (raising the possibility that the desire for single-celling as a way to improve sleep may have a gendered dimension).—people struggle with noise, light, extremes of heat and cold, and many other obstacles to sleep chronicled here. In other words, in prison, even the outliers only sleep so well.406There was one other notable outlier among my interview subjects. This person served time in two prisons and reported sleeping eight hours per night in the first facility and fourteen or sixteen hours per night in the second. He explained that his goal was to try to sleep away his sentence: “My approach was the less I’m conscious, the quicker this goes.” Interview with FI.10 at 7. His second facility was a private prison without work opportunities or educational programs so he “had a routine where [he] would just stay up reading at night and [then] would sleep all day.” Id. at 4. He also reported a history of anxiety and depression, which seemed to underwrite his tendency to sleep during the day. Id. at 17. Even after his release, he reported, he is still unable to “sleep till about five in the morning when I hear someone get up and then I get up around noon.” Id. The experience reported by this respondent would fall into the category of “long sleeping,” typically defined as greater than eight or nine hours per night, which sleep science has also shown to carry serious negative health effects. See Cappuccio et al., supra note 29, at 588 (“[L]ong sleepers (“commonly [greater than] 8 or 9 [hours] per night) [have] a 30% greater risk of dying than those sleeping 7 to 8 [hours] per night.”).

In any case, the fact that some people may sometimes beat the odds scarcely goes to controvert the core finding that sleep deprivation is endemic in prison. To take a parallel example, even though some people may sometimes receive reasonably acceptable and even effective medical or mental health treatment while incarcerated, there is no question that a systematic failure to provide adequate health care constitutes a definitive feature of the prison experience. A central claim of this Article is that chronic sleep deprivation, produced by persistent, systematic interference with sleep, is likewise intrinsic to the carceral experience—even if some people in prison occasionally manage to sleep reasonably well.

Second, at any given time, most people living in prison will be operating from a sleep deficit, possibly a considerable one, and this situation will have profound effects on what happens inside. In future work, I will take up the question of how sleep deprivation in prison impacts interpersonal dynamics and institutional functioning. For now, it is enough to say that, judging from my interviews (and as we would expect), the fact that virtually everyone in prison is chronically tired greatly heightens institutional tension and volatility, along with the likelihood of interpersonal conflict. And because COs too are frequently sleep deprived, the heightened potential for conflict and all that goes with it also implicates COs—who, it bears noting, are legally authorized to use force. At this point, it is hard to know just how much the instability and threat of violence that shapes life in the contemporary American prison is attributable to the poor judgment and short tempers emblematic of fatigue. Yet I am certain that the impact is far greater than heretofore recognized.

Third, the overwhelming weight of the sleep science, combined with the striking unidirectionality of the findings, strongly suggests that, in the aggregate, people in prison will suffer considerable physiological and psychological harm traceable to the long-term systematic interference with their ability to get adequate sleep.407See supra Part I (providing a brief overview of key sleep science findings). Again, at this stage, it is impossible to say with any precision what shape this harm takes.408Researchers at Yale Medical School have begun to investigate the harmful health effects of sleep deprivation among the incarcerated both during and following incarceration. To the best of my knowledge, this initiative is the first of its kind, although one hopes their work will inspire others to pursue the issue. See, e.g., Elumn et al., supra note 9. However, in light of what is known about the health-compromising effects of even short periods of sleep deprivation,409See supra Part I. it is hard to imagine that no such effects occur. In addition, the health-compromising effects of sleep deprivation suggest several other troubling possibilities, each of which merits serious consideration:

  • The inability to sleep properly in prison suggests a vicious circle as to the health of the incarcerated: thanks to chronic sleep deprivation, people inside are vulnerable to illness and disease that well-rested people might avoid, and when they get sick, the constant sleep deprivation and disruption that define the carceral experience are likely to undermine the body’s natural healing processes.
  • Sleep deprivation may help to explain why people age faster in prison. Research suggests that the biological age of incarcerated individuals is as much as ten to fifteen years greater than their chronological age.410Mike Mitka, Aging Prisoners Stressing Health Care System, 292 JAMA 423, 423 (2004); see also R.V. Rikard & Ed Rosenberg, Aging Inmates: A Convergence of Trends in the American Criminal Justice System, 13 J. Corr. Health Care 150, 152 (2007) (“The combination of physical and mental declines makes aging inmates, on the average, 10 to 11.5 years older physiologically than their nonincarcerated age peers.” (citations omitted)). This effect is traceable in part to “the high prevalence of risk factors for poor health” among the incarcerated, including “a history of substance abuse, head trauma, poor health care, and low educational attainment and socioeconomic status.”411Brie A. Williams, James S. Goodwin, Jacques Baillargeon, Cyrus Ahalt & Louise C. Walter, Addressing the Aging Crisis in U.S. Criminal Justice Health Care, 60 J. Am. Geriatr. Soc’y 1150, 1151 (2012) (identifying the key causes of accelerated aging among the incarcerated population). Yet given the breadth of the harms generated by insufficient sleep, it seems hard to imagine that chronic sleep deprivation does not also play a central role in the accelerated aging process prisoners experience.
  • If, as some studies suggest, sleep deprivation constitutes a risk factor for—or exacerbates the symptoms of—mental illness, the systematic interference with sleep that people routinely experience inside could help to explain the strikingly high incidence of mental illness among those in custody.412See, e.g., Laura M. Maruschak, Jennifer Bronson & Mariel Alper, U.S. Dep’t of Just., NCJ 252643, Indicators of Mental Health Problems Reported by Prisoners: Survey of Prison Inmates, 2016, at 5 tbl. 1 (2021), https://bjs.ojp.gov/media/44841/download [https://perma.cc/6AZA-REPK] (reporting that, in 2016, 41% of all state and federal prisoners exhibited at least one mental health problem and 13% met the threshold for serious psychological distress); Leah Wang, Chronic Punishment: The Unmet Health Needs of People in State Prisons, Prison Pol’y Initiative, (June 2022), https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/chronicpunishment.html#mentalhealth [https://perma.cc/D2M9-WP7M] (“More than half (56%) of people in state prison had some indication of a mental health problem, whether recent (14% report serious psychological distress in the past month) or previously diagnosed (43% report any history of one or more mental health conditions).”). These psychopathological effects mean that those concerned with the epidemic of mental illness behind bars should pay particular attention to the quality and quantity of the sleep people get inside.

Fourth and finally, the causes of sleep deprivation in prison are inextricably bound up with the normative design and operation of the modern American prison. Every person alive, whether inside prison or out, knows what it is like to try to sleep in the face of obstacles like noise, excessive light, extremes of temperature, and so on. For this reason, it may at first seem that people struggling to sleep in prison are on a continuum with others across society who fight for sleep in unconducive situations. But if sleep deprivation is not unique to prisoners, the impediments to sleep behind bars have a particular normative cast, reflecting the distinctive animus towards the incarcerated that shapes virtually all aspects of prison life.413It also bears noting that people living outside prison will rarely face the full raft of obstacles to sleep that people in prison must wrestle with simultaneously as a matter of course.

For example: Prison beds are not fiercely uncomfortable by happenstance. People are forced to sleep on metal slabs with thin, cracked, moldy, sticky mattress pads because those who decide what form the beds will take view the resulting discomfort as appropriate for people serving time as criminal punishment and would begrudge as undeserved the cost of anything more substantial. People sleep on flimsy, creaky bunkbeds for the same reason, and fear moving in their sleep in case they provoke frustrated, angry bunkmates who, like themselves, are forced to live in moral ecosystems where they are routinely humiliated and dehumanized and who may lash out at small indignities simply to feel some small measure of control. Every night, people are woken up by COs who, “hav[ing] zero respect for prisoners,”414Interview with FI.16 at 45. make no effort to do their rounds quietly. During the height of summer and the depths of winter, people labor to sleep in intense heat or extreme cold, a hardship that could be largely addressed were state corrections agencies to invest in air conditioning and routine winter maintenance in the housing units where prisoners sleep, as they already do as a matter of course in the parts of the prison frequented by staff. And so on. Obstacles to sleep that may at first seem of a piece with what people routinely experience outside prison turn out on further examination to constitute specific, sleep-compromising manifestations of the callous indifference and even hostility towards the incarcerated that in countless ways shape the American carceral system.

B. Punishment: Sleep Deprivation and the Carceral Penalty

Recognizing the fact of sleep deprivation in prison and the shape it takes also deepens our understanding of the nature of the punishment inflicted on people sentenced to prison time. In this section, I identify four related dimensions of one key insight: the way the inability to get adequate sleep heightens the punitive character of the carceral penalty.

First, it is already well understood that in practice, a prison sentence carries with it a raft of noxious conditions beyond simply the deprivation of liberty. This Article strongly suggests that, among these conditions, we must include the experience of being chronically sleep deprived for the duration of the stipulated term. Not merely a side effect of being in prison, chronic sleep deprivation is a constitutive feature of the punishment itself, a part of the penalty imposed when the judge pronounces sentence.

Second, the punishment incarceration represents also includes being subjected to the harms that arise from chronic sleep deprivation. To put the point more concretely, when we sentence people to prison time, we are sentencing them to insufficient sleep, which is very likely to (1) trigger a degradation of their body’s proper functioning and defenses against illness and disease,415See supra text accompanying notes 30–42. (2) expose them to an increased risk of early mortality,416See supra text accompanying notes 28–29. and (3) ignite psychological harms, activating or exacerbating the symptoms of a wide range of psychopathologies.417See supra text accompanying notes 43–49. We are also sentencing them to perpetually live with the cognitive deficits that daily plague people who are poorly slept—the irritability, ready frustration, fuzzy-headedness, impaired judgment, proneness to conflict, and general incapacity that collectively make it difficult to get through the day, much less make good decisions, achieve one’s goals, or build healthy relationships. To the extent that sleep deprivation is an in-built feature of the prison experience, all these harmful effects become part of the punishment prison time represents.

Third, the punitive character of the carceral penalty is intensified by the effects of pervasive sleep deprivation on the prison’s social ecosystem. Although sleep-impeding conditions are experienced individually, they are simultaneously endured by everyone. In other words, people in prison are routinely forced into close quarters with scores and perhaps hundreds of others who are themselves struggling with the psychological challenges and cognitive deficits produced by chronically inadequate sleep. People in prison are already likely to be bored, frustrated, resentful, and sometimes distraught, a situation that helps to explain the constant undercurrent of tension, conflict, and volatility that defines the carceral environment. These dynamics will only be exacerbated when everyone is denied access to restorative sleep.418See, e.g., Interview with FI.19 at 42 (“[E]veryone gets poor sleep in prison. So that . . . causes more agitated personalities around each other, which leads to fighting or just disruptive behavior.”); Interview with FI.14 at 41 (“[Being tired] makes you very irritable, which is why you have so many confrontations . . . . It makes it so easy for somebody to be angry when they’re irritable, when they’re tired. . . . [If] [y]ou’re around a bunch of testosterone, and all of them are irritable, something’s gonna happen.”). Being forced to live in this environment, with all its stress, instability, and incipient danger,419See, e.g., Interview with FI.44 at 34–35 (“[P]eople that are tired are grouchy; they have an attitude [and] they start trouble. . . . They’re irritated, easily irritated. [What kind of trouble do they cause?] Fights. Arguments. Tension.”); Interview with FI.38 at 67 (“I’ve definitely seen people fight early in the morning because [they are tired.] They’re extra irritable—over food, over the phone[s], over . . . [access to the sinks]—just small things that may not bother you at other times.”). is yet another essential component of the carceral penalty traceable to collective sleep deprivation—part of what the punishment of prison time entails.420This dynamic also carries an opportunity cost: people who might, if given the chance, be able to access their best selves and learn to support one another in efforts to grow and develop are instead forced inward, with all their resources being put towards just getting through the day. A community of sleep-deprived people is not one in which there is likely to be the kind of personal moral growth and transformation that society claims to want from those imprisoned as punishment. Certainly, many people in prison do manage to grow and change, and to support others inside on their own paths of personal transformation. However, these successes are achieved, not because of the conditions people endure in prison, but despite them.

Fourth, being subjected to chronic sleep deprivation is dehumanizing, which adds a further dimension to the punitive character of prison. Dehumanization is the process of “stripping people of human qualities” so that “they are no longer viewed as persons with feelings, hopes[,] and concerns but as sub-human objects.”421Albert Bandura, Selective Moral Disengagement in the Exercise of Moral Agency, 31 J. Moral Educ. 101, 109 (2002). The mechanisms of dehumanization experienced by people in prison do not only lead others to deny their moral worth. They also turn the process inward, undermining a person’s most elemental capacities, including the internal resources necessary for self-reflection, reasoned judgment, moral fortitude, and personal growth.

Sleep deprivation is not generally recognized as among the core dehumanizing aspects of the carceral experience. But it should be. As we all know from personal experience, when we do not get enough sleep, our most fundamental faculties are impaired. It can be hard to think, to reason, and to read situations and other people. Even things that might otherwise feel urgent or meaningful can seem flat or insufficiently important to motivate action.422See, e.g., Interview with FI.23 at 42–43 (“Emotionally, I was really checked out. . . . I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t compassionate. I wasn’t nurturing. I wasn’t considerate. I was more like, ‘[F]uck off, get the fuck out of my face, and fuck you motherfucker.’ ”); Interview with FI.38 at 64 (“Lack of sleep leaves you unmotivated [and] incoherent. You don’t want to do anything.”). These effects are regularly experienced by people in prison, where the stakes may be especially high. Those who are sleep deprived may react with irritation or hostility even to those they love the most—including the friends and family on the outside who are their lifeline.423See, e.g., Interview with FI.8 at 36 (“Say on a weekend when your family comes, and . . . you’re sitting at a table, you’re talking, but you’re so tired that you can’t focus to hear what they’re saying. . . . Or you may be in school . . . [and] you have to listen to what the professor says, but you’re tired, you can’t stay awake to take the notes or hear the lesson plan, or to study your English or math.”). Like people everywhere, when they are tired, people in prison make poor choices. They opt not to participate in activities they would otherwise value424See, e.g., Interview with FI.1 at 43 (“[T]here [were] plenty of weekends whe[n] I was so exhausted that I would . . . confine myself for the whole weekend in the cell. I wouldn’t go anywhere. . . . I would just sleep.”).—even those that might improve their chances of successful reentry.425For example, one person I spoke to described being “so tired and irritable” that he picked a fight in class, leading to his removal from the classroom in handcuffs. Interview with FI.14 at 46. Yet this same person loved learning and wound up enrolled in a full-time college program after his release. Thanks to diminished self-restraint, they sabotage their prospects.426See, e.g., Interview with FI.3 at 12–13 (explaining that when he was tired, he found himself provoking a fistfight with someone who cut into the shower line, knowing he was risking a major write-up that could impact his upcoming parole hearing); Interview with FI.38 at 68 (“I’ve seen a guy say ‘I’m not going to work today.’ And I’m like, ‘Alright man. They’re gonna try to wake you up.’ You walk away, and then [the COs are] calling, ‘Forty cell let’s go. Work. Let’s go or you’re getting a ticket.’ ”).

In short—again, like people everywhere—prisoners who are chronically tired may find themselves sleepwalking through life. Obviously, by virtue of being incarcerated, the human potential and personal agency of people in prison are necessarily drastically curtailed. Yet it is also true that people make meaning in custody. Within the constraints of their incarceration, to a greater or lesser degree, people can be agents of their own situation. But the less sleep they get—and the more they are thereby deprived of the restorative effects of adequate sleep—the less equipped they will be to engage in meaningful, productive interactions,427See, e.g., Interview with FI.44 at 38 (“[W]hen people are well-rested, they tend to make better decisions, . . . think clearer, . . . come up with better solutions, and it tends to change their behavior. . . . [T]o be well rested means I don’t have all the stress and the things that keep me from being rested, which is a road itself . . . to rehabilitation.”). and the more readily they will be dragged into the dark, negative, hostile space that so frequently traps those lacking the resources to escape it.428See, e.g., supra note 423. In all these ways, being sleep-deprived severs people from central aspects of their own moral characters and those features that define their humanity. This severing too is a part of the punishment traceable to—and inflicted by—systematic sleep deprivation in prison.

C. Law: Is Systematic Interference with Sleep Unconstitutional? Is it Torture?

The conditions described in Parts III and IV raise two obvious legal questions: (1) Do these conditions violate prisoners’ constitutional rights? and (2) Do they amount to torture under international human rights law? This Section considers these questions in turn. It focuses primarily on the constitutional question and the likely prospects for successful constitutional claims in the courts, before briefly touching on the matter of torture, which frequently arises in conversations about this research.

The primary provision for assessing the constitutionality of prison conditions is the Eighth Amendment prohibition on “cruel and unusual punishments.”429U.S. Const. amend. VIII. At its most basic, the question is whether plaintiffs challenging the conditions catalogued here could satisfy current Eighth Amendment standards—and the answer, I argue, is yes. To see why requires a short overview of the governing law.

Under existing doctrine, to prevail on a prison conditions challenge, plaintiffs must satisfy two components, styled by the Supreme Court as “objective” and “subjective.”430Wilson v. Seiter, 501 U.S. 294, 298 (1991). The objective component considers the challenged treatment, asking whether “the deprivation [was] sufficiently serious.”431Id. at 298. The subjective component focuses on the responsible officials, asking whether they acted “with a sufficiently culpable state of mind.”432Id. Of the two, the objective component may require somewhat more doctrinal explication to make the case. However, as currently defined,433For extended critique of the way the Supreme Court has defined each of these components, see Sharon Dolovich, Cruelty, Prison Conditions, and the Eighth Amendment, 84 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 881, 943–48 (2009) [hereinafter Dolovich, Cruelty]; Sharon Dolovich, Evading the Eighth Amendment: Prison Conditions and the Courts, in The Eighth Amendment and Its Future in a New Age of Punishment 133, 149–54 (Meghan J. Ryan & William W. Berry III eds., 2020.) [hereinafter Dolovich, Evading the Eighth Amendment]. Here, I am taking the standards as they are currently written. neither component should pose insurmountable obstacles for plaintiffs challenging the conditions that impede prisoners’ sleep.

As the Court made clear in Wilson v. Seiter, the objective component requires a showing that the challenged conditions “have a mutually enforcing effect that produces the deprivation of a single, identifiable human need.”434Wilson, 501 U.S. at 304 (emphasis added). Writing for the Wilson majority, Justice Scalia identified “food, warmth, or exercise” as examples of “human need[s]” that might ground such claims.435Id. A complaint, he observed, might allege “a low cell temperature at night combined with a failure to issue blankets,” thus implicating multiple “mutually enforcing” conditions depriving the plaintiffs of the “single, identifiable human need” for warmth.436Id.

Sleep deprivation seems a textbook case of the sort of objective component Wilson explicitly approved. It is beyond peradventure that sleep is a basic human need, as intrinsic to human survival as “food, warmth [and] exercise.”437Id. Even should plaintiffs choose to focus their complaint only on the more concrete factors explored in Part III—uncomfortable beds, hunger, extreme heat and cold, noise, and excessive light—these conditions together make getting adequate sleep close to impossible and would thus seem to readily satisfy the Wilson standard.438Some federal courts have recognized as much. See, e.g., Walker v. Schult, 717 F.3d 119, 126 (2d. Cir. 2013) (“[S]leep is critical to human existence, and conditions that prevent sleep have been held to violate the Eighth Amendment.”); Garrett v. Thaler, 560 F. App’x 375, 378 (5th Cir. 2014) (“ ‘[S]leep undoubtedly counts as one of life’s basic needs.’ Thus, conditions designed to prevent sleep may violate the Eighth Amendment.” (quoting Harper v. Showers, 174 F.3d 716, 720 (5th Cir. 1999))); Robinson v. Danberg, 729 F. Supp. 2d 666, 683 (D. Del. 2010) (recognizing sleep as a basic human need and holding that its deprivation may violate the Eighth Amendment); see also Cintron v. Bibeault, No. 22-1716, slip op. at 20, 21, 27 (1st Cir. Aug. 5, 2025) (holding that the plaintiff’s complaint alleged sufficient facts to state a claim of unconstitutional sleep deprivation and denying qualified immunity on the ground that, at the time, “it was clearly . . . established that Cintron’s alleged conditions of continued confinement”—and most especially those “allegations of prolonged sleep deprivation”—“violate[ed] the Eighth Amendment’s objective requirement”).

Yet incarcerated plaintiffs will not typically claim the complete denial of sleep but rather the inability, over months and years, to get even close to the recommended seven hours per night. And as Justice Powell observed in Rhodes v. Chapman, “the Constitution does not mandate comfortable prisons.”439Rhodes v. Chapman, 452 U.S. 337, 349 (1981). This means that, when incarcerated plaintiffs bring constitutional claims grounded in sleep deprivation, there is a need to determine the point at which insufficient access to adequate sleep ceases being simply the denial of those “creature comforts” of the sort incarceration necessarily entails, and instead qualifies as the “deprivation of a single, identifiable human need” that satisfies the objective component of Eighth Amendment conditions challenges.440Wilson v. Seiter, 501 U.S. 294, 304 (1991).

In Garrett v. Lumpkin, an ongoing case out of Texas, the district court offered one answer.441Garrett v. Lumpkin, 96 F.4th 896 (5th Cir. 2024) (per curiam). It held that “because Garrett failed to show that his sleep deprivation—which was undisputed—actually caused his health issues, he had not satisfied the objective element of cruel and unusual punishment.”442Id. at 900. Seeing why this answer fails as a matter of basic Eighth Amendment doctrine helps make clear why sleep deprivation need not be total to satisfy this hurdle. When Michael Garrett filed his claim, he had been in prison for more than thirty years. At the time he drafted his complaint, he was living in the McConnell Unit and was later transferred to the Estelle Unit.443In Texas, state prisons are referred to as “units.” In his complaint, Garrett challenged a set of conditions that, he alleged, interfered with both the quantity and quality of his sleep and left him chronically sleep deprived. As to quantity, the schedule operating in the Estelle Unit afforded residents only three and a half hours of sleep a night, with bedtime set for 10:30 p.m. and breakfast starting “around 2:00 a.m.”444Garrett, 96 F.4th at 897–98. (The hours in the McConnell Unit were only slightly better, with bedtime at 10:30 p.m. and breakfast commencing around 2:30 a.m.445Garrett v. Thaler, 560 F. App’x 375, 378 (5th Cir. 2014).) And “even during this three and a half hour window, sleep is not continuous,” because residents must “be awake for a 1:00 a.m. bed-book count,” which meant that “the most continuous sleep Garrett can theoretically receive is two and a half hours” (assuming he falls asleep instantly at 10:30 and sleeps undisturbed until the bed-book count).446Garrett, 96 F.4th at 898. As to sleep quality, the “nighttime prison conditions—namely, the hallway lighting, heavy doors slamming, and prisoners yelling—further imperil” the sleep residents are able to get during the brief period the prison’s compressed schedule allows.447Id.

In his complaint, Garrett challenged this raft of conditions on Eighth Amendment grounds and sought an injunction “that would mandate a prison schedule with six hours per night designated for sleep.”448Id. Yet the district court found that Garrett had failed to make out “the objective element of the Eighth Amendment inquiry.”449Id. at 899. The reason? Having failed to present “ ‘any expert testimony establishing that a lack of sufficient uninterrupted sleep has, within reasonable medical probability,’ caused his health conditions,” Garrett could not establish a cause-and-effect relationship between his sleep schedule and any medical complaint.”450Id. (quoting Garrett v. Davis, No. 2:13-CV-70, 2019 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 43176, at *4–5 (S.D. Tex. Mar. 18, 2019)).

But this notion—that a plaintiff in Garrett’s position can satisfy the objective component of an Eighth Amendment conditions claim only by showing actual harm—is directly at odds with governing doctrine, specifically the Supreme Court’s clear holding in Helling v. McKinney. Helling was decided just two years after Wilson. While in prison in Nevada, William McKinney was “assigned to a . . . [cellmate] who smoked five packs of cigarettes a day.”451Helling v. McKinney, 509 U.S. 25, 28 (1993). McKinney filed suit, arguing that exposure to this degree of cigarette smoke would unconstitutionally “jeopardiz[e] his health.”452Id. At trial, the magistrate judge granted the state’s motion for a directed verdict in part on the ground that McKinney “had failed to present evidence showing . . . medical problems that were traceable to [exposure to] cigarette smoke.”453Id. at 29.

Helling wound up in the Supreme Court. The state, following the magistrate, argued that “unless McKinney can prove that he is currently suffering serious medical problems caused by exposure to [environmental tobacco smoke (“ETS”)], there can be no violation of the Eighth Amendment.”454Id. at 32. The Court, however, rejected this suggestion,455Id. at 33. with its implication that “prison authorities . . . may ignore a condition of confinement that is sure or very likely to cause serious illness and needless suffering the next week or month or year.”456Id. As Justice White put it, writing for the majority, “[A] remedy for unsafe conditions need not await a tragic event.”457Id. (“We would think that a prison inmate . . . could successfully complain about demonstrably unsafe drinking water without waiting for an attack of dysentery.”). Instead, the Court held, it is enough to show that McKinney was exposed “to levels of ETS that pose an unreasonable risk of serious damage to his future health.”458Id. at 35. The following year, the Court decided Farmer v. Brennan, which phrased the general inquiry slightly differently: whether the plaintiffs faced a “substantial risk of serious harm.”459Farmer v. Brennan, 511 U.S. 825, 828 (1994). By my count, Farmer used the phrase “substantial risk of serious harm” seven times, thus normalizing this formulation as the requisite inquiry for the objective component of Eighth Amendment conditions claims involving unmanifested dangers. In the three decades since Farmer was decided, it is this latter formulation that has governed.

When Garrett came up on appeal, the Fifth Circuit made short work of the district court’s reasoning.460Garrett v. Lumpkin, 96 F.4th 896 (5th Cir. 2024). In her opinion on behalf of a unanimous panel,461It is noteworthy that the Fifth Circuit panel that decided in Garrett’s favor was composed of extremely conservative judges. Of the three members, two—Judges Engelhardt and Oldham—were appointed by President Trump. The third, Judge Clement, was appointed to the Fifth Circuit by President George W. Bush and long had a reputation as one of the most reliably conservative judges on the federal bench. See, e.g., Mark Joseph Stern, Fifth Circuit Judge Does Her Best Trump Impression in Opinion Attacking Liberal Colleagues, Slate (Mar. 25, 2019, at 17:15 PT), https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2019/03/clement-mississippi-reeves-senate-gerrymander.html [https://perma.cc/QUJ8-9LGN]. Judge Clement drew directly on Helling, which declared it “ ‘cruel and unusual punishment to hold convicted criminals in unsafe conditions,’ regardless of whether those conditions actually cause injury.”462Garrett, 96 F.4th at 900 (quoting Helling v. McKinney, 509 U.S. 25, 33 (1993)). Because “[i]t would be odd to deny an injunction to inmates who plainly proved an unsafe, life-threatening condition in their prison on the ground that nothing yet had happened to them,” the Fifth Circuit had previously held that, to satisfy the objective component of an Eighth Amendment conditions claim, the plaintiffs “need not show that death or serious injury has already occurred.”463Id. (quoting Helling, 509 U.S. at 33). As the Garrett panel explained, in the prior Fifth Circuit case of Ball v. LeBlanc, 792 F.3d 584, 593 (5th Cir. 2015), the state had argued that because “no death-row prisoner has ever suffered a heat-related incident, and the [plaintiff’s] medical records show no signs of heat-related illness,” the plaintiff could not make out the objective component of his Eighth Amendment claim. Garrett, 96 F.4th at 901. But the Fifth Circuit “rejected that argument,” holding instead that the plaintiff “did not need to show that he had actually suffered from heat-related illness but instead only that he was at substantial risk of serious harm.” Id. Instead—in keeping with Farmer—they “need only show that there is a substantial risk of serious harm.”464Id. at 900–01 (quoting Ball, 792 F.3d at 593). In short, when sleep in prison is sufficiently restricted as to expose people to a substantial risk of serious harm, plaintiffs will have satisfied the objective component, whether or not the danger has yet manifested and even if they still manage to get some sleep each night.465Here, the strong evidence of risk of harm offered in the sleep science literature would help the plaintiffs make this case. For more on this point, see infra text accompanying notes 479–80.

What of the subjective component? Here too, were a court to faithfully follow governing precedent, there is a clear pathway for plaintiffs alleging unconstitutional sleep deprivation to meet their burden. The requisite state of mind for Eighth Amendment conditions claims is “deliberate indifference.”466See Estelle v. Gamble, 429 U.S. 97, 104 (1976) (“[D]eliberate indifference to serious medical needs of prisoners constitutes the ‘unnecessary and wanton infliction of pain’ proscribed by the Eighth Amendment.”) (quoting Gregg v. Georgia, 428 U.S. 153, 173 (1976)). In Farmer v. Brennan,467Farmer v. Brennan, 511 U.S. 825 (1994). the Court held that to satisfy this standard—and thus the subjective component of an Eighth Amendment claim—plaintiffs must show that defendants “kn[ew] of and disregard[ed] an excessive risk to inmate health or safety.”468Id. at 837. As the Farmer court explained, Eighth Amendment deliberate indifference is equivalent to criminal recklessness as defined by the Model Penal Code: “[T]o act recklessly . . . a person must ‘consciously disregar[d]’ a substantial risk of serious harm.”469Id. at 839 (quoting Model Penal Code § 2.02(2)(c) (A.L.I. 1985)).

To satisfy this standard, plaintiffs bringing an Eighth Amendment sleep deprivation claim must show that prison officials subjectively realized the substantial possibility that, because of the challenged conditions, those incarcerated in their facility were unable to get adequate sleep. As always, plaintiffs must take care to name defendants who will have some knowledge of the challenged conditions. But given the pervasiveness of the conditions described here and the many operational decisions that daily compromise the quality of prisoners’ sleep—the nightly counts, the double-bunking, the crowded dorms, the early dinner hour, the lack of air conditioning, and so on—it would not be hard to identify prison officials with full knowledge of the conditions that deprive the incarcerated of the basic human need for sleep.

Defendants in such cases might try to argue that, although they knew of the challenged conditions, they were not aware that these conditions posed “a substantial risk of serious harm” to prisoners. Yet as the Farmer Court made clear, “[w]hether a prison official had the requisite knowledge of a substantial risk is a question of fact subject to demonstration in the usual ways, including . . . the very fact that the risk was obvious.”470Id. at 842. At a minimum, prison officials who work the night shift are well acquainted with the conditions under which those living in their facilities are forced to try to sleep. And because they are human themselves, and thus equally in need of the full complement of sleep necessary for human functioning (not to mention equally likely to have wrestled with environmental conditions impeding sleep), it would be reasonable to infer that they realized that people subjected to this set of conditions would be unable to get adequate sleep. Given the way the Court defined the Eighth Amendment deliberate indifference standard in Farmer, the plaintiffs should be readily able to identify defendants as to whom they can satisfy the subjective component of an Eighth Amendment sleep deprivation claim.

I am aware that, in this discussion, I have glossed over innumerable issues that plaintiffs may run up against in litigating these two aspects of an Eighth Amendment conditions challenge. For example, defendants might argue that plaintiffs failed to exhaust administrative remedies.471See 42 U.S.C. § 1997e(a) (denying access to federal court for incarcerated plaintiffs seeking to challenge their conditions of confinement “until such administrative remedies as are available are exhausted”). They might invoke qualified immunity472See Harlow v. Fitzgerald, 457 U.S. 800, 818 (1982) (holding that government officials have qualified immunity from suit so long as they did not violate “clearly established law”); Procunier v. Navarette, 434 U.S 555, 561–62 (1978) (holding that prison officials are entitled to qualified immunity from liability for civil rights violations). or “Turner deference,”473In Turner v. Safley, 482 U.S. 78 (1987), the Supreme Court established a standard for reviewing prison policies and practices that incidentally burden prisoners’ constitutional rights. Although the case specifically concerned communication restrictions between incarcerated people and limits on their ability to marry, Turner quickly became the “new, default standard for reviewing constitutional challenges to prison policy.” Driver & Kaufman, supra note 10, at 536; see also Washington v. Harper, 494 U.S. 210, 224 (1990) (“[The Turner principles] apply in all cases in which a prisoner asserts that a prison regulation violates the Constitution, not just those in which the prisoner invokes the First Amendment.”). Under Turner, prison regulations that burden prisoners’ constitutional rights—even fundamental rights—will nonetheless be upheld if they are “reasonably related to legitimate penological interests.” Turner, 482 U.S. at 89. The case identifies four factors that courts should use to make this determination, id. at 89–91, and the Court’s elaboration of each “leaves no doubt that the test is intended to be extremely deferential to prison officials.” Sharon Dolovich, The Coherence of Prison Law, 135 Harv. L. Rev. F. 302, 312 (2022) [hereinafter Dolovich, Coherence]. Indeed, as I have argued elsewhere, “[i]t is hard to conceive of a more deferential standard than Turner, or one that creates a stronger presumption of constitutionality.” Id. at 311. Even the Supreme Court has acknowledged the high degree of deference to prison officials that Turner demands—so much so that, in a 1996 case concerning prisoners’ right of access to courts, the Court did not even try to apply Turner’s multi-factor analysis, but simply referred to “Turner’s principle of deference” as an independent reason for courts to side with prison officials seemingly regardless of the context. See, e.g., Lewis v. Casey, 518 US 343, 361 (1996) (“Turner’s principle of deference has special force with regard to [restrictions on law library access for] . . . inmates in lockdown . . . .”); see also id. at 393 (Souter, J., concurring in part, dissenting in part, concurring in the judgment) (agreeing with the majority that the injunction granted below “does not reflect the deference we accord to state prison officials under Turner v. Safley”).

   Even still, any defense to an Eighth Amendment sleep deprivation claim grounded in a general invocation of Turner deference should readily fail. See Johnson v. California, 543 U.S. 499, 511 (2005) (explaining that the Court “ha[s] not used Turner to evaluate Eighth Amendment claims of cruel and unusual punishment in prison . . . because the integrity of the criminal justice system depends on full compliance with the Eighth Amendment”); Garrett v. Lumpkin, 96 F.4th 896, 901 (5th Cir. 2024) (“[T]he Supreme Court clarified in Johnson that Turner’s penological-purpose test does not apply to Eighth Amendment conditions-of-confinement claims.”).
or deny that plaintiffs suffered actual injury.474See Lewis, 518 U.S. at 349 (holding, in an opinion penned by Justice Scalia, that “inmate[s] alleging a violation of [their right of access to the courts] must show actual injury,” and locating this requirement in “a constitutional principle that prevents courts of law from undertaking tasks assigned to the political branches”); Brown v. Plata, 563 U.S. 493, 552 (2011) (Scalia, J., dissenting) (“[I]t is inconceivable that anything more than a small proportion of prisoners in the plaintiff classes have personally received sufficiently atrocious treatment that their Eighth Amendment right was violated . . . .”). This effort too should fail. See id. at 505 n.3 (reaffirming—against Justice Scalia’s argument that no constitutional claim lies absent showing of an actual injury—that the plaintiffs who show that, thanks to “systemwide deficiencies” in prison operations, they are exposed to a “substantial risk of serious harm” have satisfied the objective component of an Eighth Amendment conditions challenge). They might claim relief is foreclosed absent a showing of physical injury.475Assuming cases in which the plaintiff seeks prospective relief and not damages, this effort should also be to no avail. See, e.g., Garrett v. Thaler, 560 F. App’x. 375, 379 n.3 (5th Cir. 2014) (explaining that the physical injury requirement established by the Prison Litigation Reform Act (“PLRA”) “does not apply to requests for declaratory or injunctive relief” (quoting Geiger v. Jowers, 404 F.3d 371, 375 (5th. Cir. 2005)). Or they might claim—as prison officials repeatedly did during COVID—that, despite taking no meaningful steps to reduce the risk of harm, they reasonably responded to the risk prisoners faced from lack of sleep and could thus not be found deliberately indifferent.476See Dolovich, Coherence, supra note 474, at 334–39 (describing the doctrinal shift in the reading of Farmer v. Brennan, 511 U.S. 825 (1994), that benefitted defendant prison officials during COVID-19); see also id. at 335 n.218, 337–39 (documenting cases demonstrating this doctrinal shift). At least as to some challenged conditions—hunger in particular comes to mind—they might insist that they lacked knowledge of the condition itself and thus of the risk of harm it might have posed. Litigators will need to address these issues as they arise.477At least some defenses raised by the state—Turner deference and arguments that plaintiffs have failed to show “physical injury” or “actual injury”—should go nowhere. See supra notes 474–75. To some extent, their force will depend on the particulars of individual cases. But my point here is a more general one: assuming a well-litigated case, so long as courts apply the governing Eighth Amendment doctrine in an evenhanded and straightforward way, plaintiffs alleging unconstitutional sleep deprivation should have a clear doctrinal pathway to prevailing on the merits.

All this means that in theory—assuming the ability to overcome the many procedural hurdles to getting into court and getting a hearing on the merits—an affected class that meets its burden under governing Eighth Amendment standards should be entitled to injunctive relief designed to remedy the many sleep-impeding conditions producing harm or risk of harm. However, in practice, those seeking relief in the courts from the conditions undermining sleep are still likely to face a steep uphill climb.

One notable challenge would arise from the nature of the relevant evidence. On the one hand, the considerable body of sleep science demonstrating unequivocally the myriad harms—physiological, psychological, and cognitive—arising from sleep deprivation will help incarcerated plaintiffs make their case.478See supra Part I. On the other hand, making such a showing demands expertise and resources that pro se plaintiffs are likely to lack, which means that, to succeed, plaintiffs will require outside counsel with deep pockets and a commitment to building the strongest possible case.479See Margo Schlanger, Civil Rights Injunctions Over Time: A Case Study of Jail and Prison Court Orders, 81 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 550, 621 (2006) (tracing the “increased complexity of contemporary injunctive correctional practice” in part to the “big firm ‘playbook,’ ” which is resource intensive and designed to pull out all the stops on behalf of clients). And even still, such efforts may run up against what Margo Schlanger has characterized as “a general hardening of attitudes about causation” on the federal bench, producing demands by courts for “more rigorous proof on harm and causation.”480See id. at 605; see also Supplemental and Revised Findings of Fact and Conclusions of Law at 8, Garrett v. Guerrero, No. 2:13-CV-00070 (S.D. Tex. May 1, 2025) (ruling against Garrett on his Eighth Amendment sleep deprivation claim in part because the plaintiffs’ evidence demonstrated an “insufficient causal link”—“only an association, not a cause-and-effect relationship, between the amount of continuous sleep and health disorders”).

Then there is the fact that today’s federal courts are extremely reluctant to order meaningful changes to how prisons are run. Except for one brief period in the 1970s and 1980s,481See Malcolm M. Feeley & Edward L. Rubin, Judicial Policy Making and the Modern State: How the Courts Reformed America’s Prisons 30–41 (1998) (providing a historical overview of the increasing willingness of federal district courts in the 1970s and 1980s to engage in robust enforcement of prisoners’ constitutional rights, a phenomenon that, in several cases, led to sweeping injunctions affecting every aspect of prison life and heralding the end of the so-called hands-off era); id. at 51–95 (exploring in detail landmark prison reform cases in Arkansas and Texas). federal courts have been notoriously unwilling to issue broad injunctive orders in prison cases.482In this respect, courts have long responded to clear signals from the Supreme Court, which, even during what is known as the “reform” era, see id. at 39, took pains to emphasize the need for judicial restraint, a theme it continued to sound as the Court shifted rightward. See, e.g., Procunier v. Martinez, 416 U.S. 396, 404–05 (1974) (emphasizing that “courts are ill equipped to deal with the increasingly urgent problems of prison administration,” which are “complex and intractable, and . . . not readily susceptible of resolution by decree” and thus “peculiarly within the province of the legislative and executive branches”); Bell v. Wolfish, 441 U.S. 520, 562 (1979) (cautioning courts against “becom[ing] . . . enmeshed in the minutiae of prison operations” and to leave the “judgment calls” as to how to run the prisons “to officials outside of the Judicial Branch,” who “are actually charged with and trained in the running of [prisons]”); Lewis v. Casey, 518 U.S. 343, 349 (1996) (“It is the role of the courts to provide relief to claimants . . . who have suffered, or will imminently suffer, actual harm . . . [and it is the role] of the political branches[] to shape the institutions of government . . . to comply with the laws and the Constitution.”). In 1996, this view of the limits of judicial authority to order injunctive relief was effectively codified by Congress in the PLRA. As Margo Schlanger has shown, in the wake of the PLRA, court orders against prisons and jails became fewer in number and narrower in scope. See Schlanger, supra note 480, at 569–89, 602–05. She traces the reduction in volume directly to the PLRA, see id. at 589–94, and the reduction in the number of topics addressed in those orders that are obtained to the increased complexity of the cases and the heightened burdens on the plaintiffs seeking to make their case. See id. at 630. And as we have seen, the concern with sleep deprivation implicates wide swaths of prison operations—the design of housing units, maintenance of the physical plant, a prison’s ability to accommodate large populations in relatively small spaces, the way staff shifts are organized, how COs do their jobs, and even the fundamental matter of how staff perceive and treat the incarcerated. In today’s judicial climate,483Perhaps some state courts may be more hospitable to claims challenging prison conditions that impede sleep. As federal courts have become increasingly less open to prisoners’ constitutional claims, state courts have emerged as a possible alternative venue. However, it is currently unclear how viable an alternative state courts in fact represent; at best, success is likely to vary dramatically across jurisdictions. the breadth of any sufficient remedy is likely to incline courts to try to find some way to dispose of the case long before the remedial stage—however strongly supported the constitutional claim.484Courts not inclined to side with incarcerated plaintiffs or to enter injunctive orders on their behalf have ways to avoid doing so—even when the plaintiffs’ claims are strong on the merits and even when the defendants’ proffered arguments strain credulity. For a survey of available strategies, see Dolovich, Coherence, supra note 474, at 303 (exploring “the mechanisms by which, despite what is known about the reality on the ground in American prisons, courts hearing constitutional challenges brought by prisoners so persistently find in favor of the state”).

For these and other reasons, litigation will not be a cure-all.485Indeed, recent developments in the Supreme Court suggest that, however great the current obstacles, it may soon be even harder than it currently is for the incarcerated plaintiffs to get the relief they seek through Eighth Amendment claims. See City of Grants Pass v. Johnson, 144 S. Ct. 2022, 2216 (2024) (“None of the city’s sanctions qualifies as cruel because none is designed to ‘superad[d]’ ‘terror, pain, or disgrace.’ ”) (quoting Bucklew v. Precythe, 139 S. Ct. 1112, 1114 (2019)); see also Dolovich, Evading the Eighth Amendment, supra note 434, at 154–60 (discussing the Court’s reasoning in Bucklew, 139 S. Ct., and what it might portend for the future of Eighth Amendment prison conditions claims). Yet even granting the impediments, these cases are still very much worth bringing. For one thing, with the right case, dedicated and adept advocates with sufficient resources to mount the litigation may well find a way to win.486See Dolovich, Coherence, supra note 474, at 316 (arguing that, notwithstanding “prison law’s pro-state tilt[,] where the challenged treatment is glaringly indefensible, where dedicated and adept plaintiffs’ lawyers are willing to build the strongest possible case for their clients, and where courts are open to taking plantiffs’ claims seriously, prisoners may sometimes prevail”). And partial successes are still worth pursuing. Even if a court were unwilling to order sweeping relief encompassing all the issues explored here, it would still make for better sleep inside if they were at least to require, say, adequate air conditioning during hot summer months or that prisoners be provided real beds with higher quality mattresses. To this, some may object that, given the cruelty of forcing people to try to sleep in the dehumanizing and inhumane conditions mapped here, we ought to accept nothing less than complete institutional overhaul.487However much we may wish it were otherwise, there is, at this historical moment, no obvious pathway to total institutional transformation. This being so, those of us with the luxury of controlling our sleeping environments should not allow our wider political commitments, however fervently held, to blind us to the needs of the almost two million people currently living—and desperately trying to sleep—behind bars. For now, if making it possible for prisoners to get seven hours of uninterrupted sleep per night is not a realistic goal, those inclined to take on this issue might at least aim to help those inside to get four hours a night rather than two. But when conditions are this dire, advocates do prisoners no favors by letting the best be the enemy of the good.

Moreover, we should not discount the possible virtuous circle that might arise were courts to order—and prison officials to implement—even partial relief. Of the obstacles to sleep catalogued here, those I have labeled meta-conditions are perhaps least likely to form the basis for injunctive relief. Yet if a carceral facility took steps to improve the more concrete conditions impeding sleep, some of the meta-conditions may at least partly take care of themselves. If a prison provided decent beds, served a meal before bed, reduced the frequency of nighttime counts, or ensured an ambient temperature conducive to sleep, these efforts might mitigate the daily humiliations that can themselves compromise sleep. Depending on the nature of the policy changes, people in such facilities might also feel less compelled to break the rules to try to improve the quality of their sleep, or to engage in risky behavior for the sake of having something to eat before bed. This possibility of felicitous knock-on effects is another reason Eighth Amendment claims grounded in sleep deprivation are worth bringing, even if the results may fall short of total institutional transformation.

Sleep deprivation may also ground claims beyond class actions seeking broad structural change. As with other pathological features of the carceral experience—medical neglect, inadequate mental health care, the risk of physical or sexual assault, excessive force, and so on—sleep deprivation is both a shared experience produced by macro-level institutional design and a personal experience the precise shape of which will vary according to the individual and their context. Depending on the circumstances, people in custody may face particular obstacles to adequate sleep for which individual prison officials may be liable. For example, prison officials may persistently refuse to provide testing and treatment for people exhibiting obvious signs of sleep apnea, or to authorize a cell move for someone whose cellmate is a kitchen worker with a 2:00 a.m. wake-up time, or to provide a longer or wider bunk for someone of greater than average height or weight. Such situations too deprive people of the basic human need for sleep and thus raise potential constitutional claims, along with claims under other legal frameworks—perhaps most notably the Rehabilitation Act and the Americans with Disabilities Act, the “two principal federal disability anti-discrimination statutes.”488Margo Schlanger, Prisoners with Disabilities, in 4 Reforming Criminal Justice: Punishment, Incarceration, and Release 295, 301 (Erik Luna ed., 2017). For an overview of the experience of people with disabilities in custody and analysis of the legal pathways to challenging carceral conditions negatively impacting those in this group, see id. and Margo Schlanger, Elizabeth Jordan & Roxana Moussavian, Ending the Discriminatory Pretrial Incarceration of People with Disabilities: Liability Under the Americans with Disabilities Act and the Rehabilitation Act, 17 Harv. L. & Pol’y Rev. 231 (2022).

Again, I do not wish to overstate the likelihood of success. Given the dispositional favoritism federal courts routinely exhibit toward defendant prison officials in prison law cases, incarcerated plaintiffs will always face long odds.489See Dolovich, Coherence, supra note 474, at 303–04 (identifying and mapping the phenomenon of “dispositional favoritism”: the moral psychology that “orients courts to regard prison officials’ arguments favorably while viewing prisoners’ claims with skepticism and even hostility”). Yet advocates should still bring these claims—and not only because they may sometimes win. They should also do so because, just by filing cases, they can put the issue of perpetual sleep deprivation in prison on the public radar.490See generally Sharon Dolovich, How Prisoners’ Rights Lawyers Do Vital Work Despite the Courts, 19 U. St. Thomas L.J. 435 (2023) (describing the way litigation can help publicize inhumane prison conditions that may otherwise remain hidden). If change is to be possible, the public first needs to be aware of what goes on behind the walls. And litigation, with its built-in drama and familiar script, offers a way to expose the realities of prison life to public view. Legal cases can become the focus of media attention; as reporters cover the various stages of the case, they also educate the public about the underlying issues. Judicial proceedings offer inflection points for organizing, around which advocates can build political campaigns. And lawsuits themselves can open pathways for sympathetic engagement by legislators, who may in turn hold hearings and push for policy change.491Following Jules Lobel, we might think of this as a species of winning by losing. See generally Jules Lobel, Success Without Victory: Lost Legal Battles and the Long Road to Justice in America (2003). Eighth Amendment litigation alone cannot achieve these aims. It can, however, play a crucial supporting role in a multi-pronged, multi-stakeholder strategy.492Just such a multi-pronged strategy was pursued to powerful effect by opponents of solitary confinement in the early 2010s. Combining litigation with media attention, public education, and political advocacy, reformers helped move the profligate use of solitary in carceral facilities nationwide from the shadows into the light. See generally Peoples v. Fischer, 898 F. Supp. 2d 618 (S.D.N.Y. 2012) (broadly challenging the use of solitary in New York state prison); Plaintiffs’ Second Amended Complaint, Ashker v. Brown, No. 4:09-CV-05796-CW (N.D. Cal. 2012) (same in California state prison). Although the use of solitary confinement has not ceased, it has been the subject of broad political challenge in all 50 states, with the practice having been limited by 228 pieces of legislation in 42 states. Data Tracker, Unlock the Box, https://unlocktheboxcampaign.org/data-tracker [https://perma.cc/463N-S6BY].

One other legal issue, implicating not the United States Constitution but international human rights law, bears addressing here. That is, some readers may be inclined to regard the systematic interference with sleep in American prisons as tantamount to torture. Whether such a claim could succeed under international law is an open question. There is a high bar to a finding of torture under the United Nations Convention Against Torture (“CAT”),493The European Court of Human Rights (“ECHR”), which has de facto jurisdiction over interpreting CAT, has never found sleep deprivation alone to constitute torture under the U.N. Convention. See, e.g., Ireland v. United Kingdom, 25 Eur. Ct. H.R. (ser. A) at 86 (1978) (rejecting a claim of torture in a case challenging tactics including forced stress positions, hooding, extreme noise, sleep deprivation, and deprivation of food and drink, though finding this treatment to constitute “inhuman and degrading treatment”). which explicitly excludes from the definition “pain or suffering arising only from, inherent in or incidental to lawful sanctions”—a provision that would greatly complicate efforts to apply CAT to sleep deprivation in American prisons (if not for cases focusing on pretrial or administrative detention).494Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, art. 1, ¶ 1, Dec. 10 1984, 2025 U.S.T.I.F. 94-1120.1. For this and other reasons,495 See, e.g., supra note 494 and infra note 500. advocates wanting to argue that the conditions mapped here violate international law bans on torture may also face a steep uphill climb.496There are some threads in the caselaw that might help advocates make the case. For example, in 1999 in Selmouni v. France, the ECHR emphasized that “the Convention is a ‘living instrument which must be interpreted in the light of present-day conditions’ ” and that “certain acts which were classified in the past as ‘inhuman and degrading treatment’ as opposed to ‘torture’ could be classified differently in future.” Selmouni v. France, App. No. 25803/94, ¶ 101 (July 28, 1999), https://hudoc.echr.coe.int/eng?i=001-58287. And in Hatton v. United Kingdom, a case challenging a policy in the United Kingdom allowing night flights from Heathrow Airport, a dissent joined by five members of the court found that “[w]hen it comes to such intimate personal situations as the constant disturbance of sleep at night by aircraft noise there is a positive duty on the State to ensure as far as possible that ordinary people enjoy normal sleeping conditions.” Hatton v. United Kingdom, App. No. 36022/97 ¶ 12 (July 8, 2003) (joint dissenting opinion by Costa, Ress, Türmen, Zupančič, and Steiner, JJ.), https://hudoc.echr.coe.int/?i=001-61188.

Those pursuing this legal pathway might find it more promising to try framing sleep deprivation in prison, not as torture, but as “cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment” (“CIDT”)—a category of treatment also prohibited under international human rights law.497See Ireland, 25 Eur. Ct. H.R. at 59 (quoting G.A. Res. 3452 (XXX), Declaration on the Protection of All Persons from Being Subjected to Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (Dec. 9, 1975)); id. at 58 (finding the challenged treatment to constitute “inhuman and degrading treatment”). CIDT falls somewhat below torture on the schedule of human rights abuses, and includes “forms of punishments . . . that cause ‘serious mental and physical suffering,’ ”498Lisa Yarwood, Defining Torture: The Potential for ‘Abuse’, 2008 J. Inst. Just. & Int’l Stud. 324, 328 (quoting Prosecutor v. Kvočka, Case No. IT-98-30/1-T, Judgment, ¶ 542 (Int’l Crim. Trib. for the Former Yugoslavia Nov. 2, 2001)). which persistent interference with sleep of the sort described here arguably does.

I leave it to experts in international human rights law to determine how best to categorize the conditions described here within CAT and other international human rights frameworks. Here, I would simply note that, at this stage, how this doctrinal debate (torture or only CIDT?) would come out under international law may matter less499If Eighth Amendment protections remain profoundly underenforced in the American legal environment, the imperatives of international law have virtually no traction at all. See John K. Setear, A Forest with No Trees: The Supreme Court and International Law in the 2003 Term, 91 Va. L. Rev. 579, 585–86 (2005) (arguing that the Court frequently ignores international law and describing the Court’s approach to international law in seven cases as “cramping, ignoring, or defanging international law”). See generally Harry A. Blackmun, The Supreme Court and the Law of Nations, 104 Yale L.J. 39 (1994) (discussing, following his retirement from the Court, the ways in which several of the Court’s decisions ignored or contradicted principles of international law); see also Knight v. Florida, 528 U.S. 801, 990 (1999) (Thomas, J., concurring in the denial of certiorari) (“[W]ere there any such support in our own jurisprudence, it would be unnecessary for the proponents of the claim to rely on the European Court of Human Rights, the Supreme Court of Zimbabwe, the Supreme Court of India, or the Privy Council.”). than the fact that, for many, this is the question that most immediately comes to mind when confronting the fact of systematic sleep deprivation in American prisons. That we find ourselves in a moral universe where these are the stakes provides the strongest possible evidence that the conditions identified here are among the features of American prison life most worthy of condemnation and challenge.

D. Policy: Challenges and Complications

The conditions chronicled in this Article are the product of multiple failures: of institutional design, of moral obligation, of constitutional protection and enforcement. In these ways, the phenomenon of sleep deprivation is no different from many other toxicities constitutive of the American carceral experience. All the unconscionable conditions that shape prison life, sleep deprivation included, have the same moral driver: an inability (or unwillingness) to recognize the humanity of the incarcerated, and a consequent callous indifference to their health and well-being. They also have considerable mutual interaction effects, each reinforcing and amplifying the harms prisoners endure.

This interconnection means that none of prison’s noxious aspects can be fully resolved while the others persist. Yet, however much we might wish it, we will not witness the wholesale transformation of American carceral practice any time soon. Of course, we ought still to push for sweeping change. But this hard truth means that, for now, the best we may realistically be able to achieve for those currently living behind bars is to ameliorate their suffering as much as possible.

When it comes to improving the conditions in which prisoners sleep, there are some obvious policy fixes. To name just a few: people should have real beds, decent mattresses and pillows, and sufficient blankets to keep them warm at night. Meals of reasonable quality and quantity should be served at appropriate times, and food should be available in the evening for people who are still hungry. Facilities should be air-conditioned in summer, well-heated in winter, and generally well maintained to ensure a temperate environment. Nighttime counts should be reduced and staff trained to respect prisoners’ sleep. Approaches to lighting should be found that do not interfere with sleep and leave some people feeling like “rotisserie chicken[s].”500Interview with FI.30 at 23. And ideally, people would have their own rooms, so that their sleep will not be disrupted by the movements and noises of a cellmate501But see supra note 402 and accompanying text (noting the possibility that women prisoners might feel safer with a cellmate and thus may prefer to be double-celled).—or ninety-nine other dormmates. Even if policymakers balk at implementing the policy reforms just itemized, these are changes advocates should push for on every available front.502It might seem as if such reforms, focused as they are on the concrete conditions described in Part III, would leave unaddressed the meta-conditions identified in Part IV. But these conditions are all interrelated, and as noted, see supra Section V.C, the changes I propose would also help to neutralize, at least to some extent, some of the sleep-disrupting effects of the pathological dynamics Part IV explores.

No doubt, these proposals and others in a similar vein would be condemned by abolitionists (and other advocates of sweeping change) as woefully inadequate. But given the actual distribution of power in this space, what is of more practical moment is that such proposals are also likely to be fiercely resisted by prison officials and policymakers. Such changes would not come cheap, and prisoners, largely viewed as undeserving across society at large, are not a constituency in which legislators are generally eager to invest. Although the desire of politicians to seem “tough on crime” has waned somewhat since its peak in the 1990s, there is still a palpable reluctance among policymakers to address even the most pressing needs of the incarcerated.503See Sharon Dolovich, The Failed Regulation and Oversight of American Prisons, 5 Ann. Rev. Criminology 153, 158–60 (2022); see also id. at 160 (“The resounding silence with which legislators across the country greeted the disproportionate threat COVID posed to people locked inside crowded, poorly ventilated carceral facilities is wholly in keeping with this notable quiescence . . . .”). This is not the place to fully address these troubling dynamics. Here, I would simply note that the state’s decision to incarcerate carries with it the duty to provide for the basic needs of people in custody. This is the state’s carceral burden.504See Dolovich, Cruelty, supra note 434, at 911–23; see also Dolovich, Evading the Eighth Amendment, supra note 434, at 137–40 (describing the Eighth Amendment “roots of the state’s carceral burden”). If efforts at economy produce conditions that deprive people of what Justice Powell once labeled “the minimal civilized measure of life’s necessities,”505Rhodes v. Chapman, 452 U.S. 337, 347 (1981). the state is obliged to reorient its priorities. If it finds the costs too great to bear, the appropriate response—both morally and constitutionally—is not to subject the incarcerated to dehumanizing and affirmatively harmful conditions, but instead to reduce the carceral footprint.506See DeShaney v. Winnebago Cnty. Dep’t of Soc. Servs., 489 U.S. 189, 199–200 (1989) (“[W]hen the State by the affirmative exercise of its power so restrains an individual’s liberty that it renders him unable to care for himself, and at the same time fails to provide for his basic human needs . . . it transgresses the substantive limits on state action set by the Eighth Amendment and the Due Process Clause.”).

It is well beyond the scope of this Article to fully explore the policy challenges facing those seeking to ameliorate the sleep-disrupting conditions prisoners face. I will, however, flag one additional complication that advocates will invariably need to confront: efforts to improve the conditions enabling sleep in prison will at times run up against policy initiatives intended to promote unrelated dimensions of prisoners’ interests and needs. For example, as we have seen, one central source of nighttime disruption comes from COs conducting count and performing regular security checks. But in the view of many prisoners’ advocates, these rounds are vital to ensuring the health and well-being of those in custody, by preventing or disrupting suicide attempts and intra-prisoner violence and allowing timely intervention in the event of medical crises.507See Order at 4–7, Coleman v. Brown, No. 2:90-cv-00520-KJM-SCR (E.D. Cal. Dec. 3, 2020). In my view, this justification is questionable.508Someone bent on killing themselves or attacking a cellmate can readily time their efforts to correspond to the gaps between security checks. And although in some instances, COs might arrive on the scene in time to intervene in a suicide attempt or a medical emergency that might not otherwise have been flagged by others in the unit calling for help, in many instances, help from COs doing rounds will likely come too late. If there are some few cases in which the checks can make a difference, there is also an enormous opportunity cost in terms of sleep that must be weighed in the balance. Yet even assuming its validity, it is also the case that these nighttime checks exact a considerable cost to the health and well-being of the very people they are supposed to help—a cost measured in the disrupted sleep, every single night, of hundreds of thousands of people incarcerated in locked facilities around the country. It may be that nighttime rounds should

be maintained, but at the very least, their considerable downside effects on sleep should be taken seriously and addressed.509An especially stark example of this tension arose in California’s Pelican Bay Prison in 2015. To try to reduce suicides at Pelican Bay, the court in Coleman v. Newsom, No. 2:90-cv-00520-KJM-DB (E.D. Cal. Feb. 3, 2015), “adopted an expert recommendation requiring twice-hourly welfare checks in solitary confinement using Guard One.” Plaintiff-Appellant’s Opening Brief at 9, Rico v. Roberston, No. 21-16880 (9th Cir. Mar. 16, 2022). Guard One is an electronic monitoring system designed to ensure that staff are doing their security rounds. COs “carry a small metal wand or pipe that, when touched to a metal button outside of each cell, electronically records that the officer has checked that cell to confirm the security and welfare of the individuals in the cell.” Stipulation and Order Approving Settlement of Plaintiff-Intervenor Christopher Lipsey’s Claim in Intervention, Exhibit 1, at 2, Coleman v. Newsom, No. 2:90-cv-00520-KJM-DB (PC) (E.D. Cal. Aug. 9, 2022). This system may well help reduce suicides. It is also, however, extremely disruptive, persistently interfering with the sleep of those housed in the units where Guard One is operative. In such units, people who are trying to sleep “can hear the metal-on-metal banging of the Guard One pipe hitting the metal buttons on each cell.” Plaintiff-Appellant’s Opening Brief, supra, at 10. “The cacophony of the Guard One checks occurs once an hour at night and twice an hour during the day. Because each round of checks takes about fifteen minutes, inmates only have about fifteen minutes of uninterrupted time between checks during the day and forty-five minutes during the night.” (citation omitted). Id. I thank Michael Bien for calling this case to my attention and Kate Falkenstein, Shawna Ballard, and Brian Baran—who represented Christopher Lipsey in his Eighth Amendment challenge to the Guard One system, see Lipsey v. Norum, No. 2:18-cv-0362-KJM-DB-P, 2019 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 176724 (E.D. Cal. Oct. 9, 2019)—for taking the time to talk me through the case.

A similar tension will also confront efforts to improve sleep in prison by increasing access to single cells. Judging from my interviews, it is impossible to overstate the sleep-enhancing effects of having one’s own room. Given the choice, virtually everyone I spoke with would opt for a single.510But see supra note 402 and accompanying text (noting the possibility that the preference for single cells may not be shared by women, who may feel safer with a cellmate). Yet since the 1980s, when the American prison population exploded, double-celling—that is, housing two people in cells designed for one—has been the norm.511This approach to housing expanded exponentially in the wake of Rhodes v. Chapman, 452 U.S. 337, 347 (1981), which held that housing two people in cells expressly designed for one person does not constitute a per se Eighth Amendment violation. See Dolovich, Evading the Eighth Amendment, supra note 434, at 148 (explaining that Rhodes “wound up providing constitutional cover for prison officials nationwide to respond to ever-increasing prison populations by jamming two people into cells built to the minimum adequate specifications for a single person”). This practice allowed states to cram many more people into each facility, and solo housing became relatively rare. But although the size of the incarcerated population remains high, it peaked nationwide in the early 2000s and continues to exhibit appreciable declines.512See Nat’l Rsch. Council, The Growth of Incarceration in the United States: Exploring Causes and Consequences 39 (Jeremy Travis et al. eds., 2014) (showing incarcerated population more than doubling across federal and state prisons and local jails during the 1980s, reaching more than four times its 1972 level in 1990, and six times in 2000); Emily D. Buehler & Rich Kluckow, U.S. Dep’t of Just., NCJ 308699, Correctional Populations in the United States, 2022–Statistical Tables 5 tbl. 1 (2024), https://bjs.ojp.gov/document/cpus22st.pdf [https://perma.cc/F2VX-UQM4] (showing a decrease in the number of incarcerated persons from 2012 (2,231,300) to 2022 (1,827,600), with an average annual percent change of -2.0). Among other advantages, this drop has somewhat eased pressures on housing and, in some jurisdictions at least, could allow for a greater number of people to be housed alone. However, for some advocates, the preferred response when jurisdictions reduce their numbers is not to reduce population density but instead to close facilities, thus shrinking the carceral capacity of the system. If overall decarceration were the only goal, seeking prison closures would make sense. Yet viewed through the lens of sleep, shuttering prisons carries a significant downside for those who remain behind: the missed opportunity to expand the number of people able to live—and sleep—alone. This too is a serious tension advocates must navigate when considering how best to fight for change in this arena.

This brief policy discussion has focused primarily on challenges likely to attend efforts to make concrete changes to the conditions affecting prisoners’ sleep. But as I have repeatedly emphasized, the phenomenon of sleep deprivation in prison cannot be fully understood independently of the moral character of the carceral enterprise, specifically, the normative hostility and callous indifference that drive institutional choices and shape official behavior. If those with the power to shape the carceral environment are blind to or unmoved by the humanity of people in custody, they will easily dismiss demands for the concrete changes that would help those inside get adequate sleep. Any strategy for achieving practical change on the ground must therefore include efforts to generate a broad cultural recognition of the shared humanity of the people society chooses to incarcerate.

Conclusion

It may be tempting for some to dismiss concerns with the quality or quantity of the sleep people get in custody as simply part of the loss of those so-called creature comforts that necessarily comes with a carceral penalty.513See Rhodes v. Chapman, 452 US 337, 349 (1981) (“[T]he Constitution does not mandate comfortable prisons, and prisons . . . [that] house persons convicted of serious crimes cannot be free of discomfort.”). But this notion misapprehends the stakes. Getting adequate sleep is not a matter of personal indulgence or a luxury only to be enjoyed by those at liberty to chart their own course. It is a basic human need, as fundamental to human survival and adequate human functioning as is access to food, water, and shelter from the elements.

For those who live in prisons, being denied the ability to sleep night after night takes a substantial toll. Most immediately, the experience is frustrating, infuriating, and even humiliating. Chronically insufficient sleep also inflicts substantial physiological, psychological, and cognitive harm. Yet when aspects of the American prison are singled out for condemnation, sleep deprivation is virtually never mentioned. In this Article, I have argued that chronic sleep deprivation should be counted as among the fundamental harms of incarceration, explicitly acknowledged as a core part of what makes prison so unlivable. And the claim might be put still more forcefully: the persistent inability of people in custody to get adequate sleep is not only a product of some of the most damaging and degrading features of the prison experience, but also in turn helps to produce them. Not to reckon with this endemic aspect of prison life is to miss a key driver of the toxicity of the prison environment.

Appendix A

Research Methodology

The findings presented in this Article are based on thirty-nine interviews conducted primarily over four months in 2023514See supra note 62 (describing when the interviews were conducted). with people formerly incarcerated in prisons across the United States. These interviews were of two types. Thirty-five were semi-structured interviews conducted on Zoom using a 200-item questionnaire developed for the purpose. These interviews were video-recorded after obtaining consent. Each research subject had spent at least four years in prison,515I originally established a requirement of at least six years in prison. But at some point, to enhance the diversity of my sample on other dimensions, I wound up enrolling two participants who had served only four years. and all but three had been released within five years of the interview.516For details, see infra Appendix B, Table 6 and discussion following the table. I established these parameters to ensure clearer memories and a depth of experience with the issues.517Other conversations I have had in the intervening years have led me to conclude that on both these fronts, I might have been more flexible without loss of depth. But at the time I developed the study protocol, I set the parameters noted in the text.

The remaining four interviews—which I came to label “ad hoc interviews”—were more free-form. Participants in these interviews were people I connected with who seemed to have insight and experience to contribute, but who did not meet the study parameters at the time or who otherwise seemed unsuited for formal enrollment.518One of these “ad hoc” interviewees had been out of prison for nine years and had only served three. Another had served four years, but we connected early in the data-gathering phase when I had thought my lower range on length of incarceration would be six years. The other two had spent much of their time in honor dorms, which led me to think their experiences would be somewhat less representative of the standard carceral experience. These interviews were audio-recorded after obtaining consent. To get context and perspective, I asked these individuals many of the same questions as appeared in the questionnaire, and their answers were entirely consistent with what I was hearing in the formal interviews. As a result, I wound up drawing on all thirty-nine interviews when analyzing the data.

The primary focus of the research, as well as the main source of the data, was the thirty-five formal interviews conducted using the 200-item questionnaire. What follows is a description of the protocol I followed in undertaking this core aspect of the research.

I began by compiling a draft questionnaire, initially shaped by many conversations with people with firsthand carceral experience as well as by my own knowledge of prison conditions accrued over years of study. I then enlisted three volunteers, each of whom had spent time behind bars (two in California and one in Louisiana), to do individual mock interviews based on my draft questionnaire. After each mock interview, the volunteer shared feedback on which aspects warranted revision. I also incorporated feedback from Joe Doherty, former Director of the Empirical Research Group at the UCLA School of Law, who advised me throughout this project on matters of research methodology.

After receiving IRB approval, I began recruiting participants. I used two main channels. First, I put out a call for participants through the networks I have developed as part of my long-standing research into prisons and prison conditions. Targeted recipients included the Prisoners’ Rights listserv, a national list populated primarily by advocates for the incarcerated. This call briefly described the study and the format of the interviews and asked recipients to share the information with anyone they knew who might fit the parameters. I also posted a notice on Twitter,519Before it became “X.” advertising the study and inviting participants. In each notice, I included a link to a Microsoft form asking for basic demographic data and contact information. I also indicated that study participants would receive a $30 Amazon gift card. The idea here was to provide some compensation for the time people spent doing the interview, while keeping the amount low enough that it would be unlikely to draw people who would not otherwise be inclined to share personal details or revisit prior experiences likely to have been traumatic. Unfortunately, I did not anticipate that the up-front promise of a gift card might incline some people without prior carceral experience to pretend to have been incarcerated in an effort to receive this benefit. The first few iterations of the sign-up form proved to be a mix of genuinely qualifying individuals and fraudsters, and it took some time to figure out how to sort them out. Eventually, I began scheduling “pre-calls” with those who filled out the form. During these brief calls, I described the study and then explained that I had been hearing from people who were only pretending to be formerly incarcerated and that, before we could schedule an interview, I needed to hear enough to confirm that the person was in fact formerly incarcerated. In each instance, it took only a few sentences of the person recounting their carceral history520One person sent me a set of photos of boxes of mail he had received while incarcerated, with close-ups of his prison address featuring prominently. for me to know they were in earnest.521I quickly realized that requesting the pre-call was enough to deter false respondents, but I carried out the practice with each potential participant just to be sure.

Once I got through this rough patch, it did not take long to receive expressions of interest from more potential participants than I had time to interview. My aim was to build a research sample diverse as to race and roughly proportionate as to gender.522See infra Appendix B for demographic make-up of the sample. The reason for seeking a diverse sample was to ensure that my findings would not reflect only the experiences of one group of people. I also sought a sample that had broad jurisdictional/geographic representation. I did so because, as is common knowledge among people who study prisons or who work in the field, carceral systems vary considerably across the country on a variety of metrics, including facility size, general conditions of confinement, and—most importantly—moral orientation toward the health, safety, and well-being of those in custody.

I started by interviewing people in the order in which they reached out, but as my sample took shape, I began to pick and choose among those who had filled out the initial form, seeking people who would broaden the sample on the metrics I sought. Some states were better represented than others in my participant pool, and at some point, I realized that a certain degree of jurisdictional depth would enhance the data. I therefore set out to interview four or five people from four states well-represented in my pool: California, Louisiana, New Jersey, and New York. This approach helped strengthen confidence in my findings, as there proved to be considerable overlap in what I was hearing regarding the conditions impacting sleep from these four very different prison systems.523Given their geographic proximity, one might imagine prisons would not differ much between New York and New Jersey. But based on my interviews, it appears that New Jersey’s prisons are much worse than New York’s in terms of both conditions of confinement and the way prisoners are treated by staff and by the system in general. This is not to say that New York prisons are not also deeply problematic on many fronts. For a chilling recent account of conditions in New York prisons following the 2025 strike by New York State COs that left state prisons grossly understaffed and required the National Guard to step in, see Jennifer Gonnerman, A Year of Convulsions in New York’s Prisons: How Two Murders and a Strike Exposed a System at Its Breaking Point, The New Yorker (Oct. 6, 2025), https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2025/10/13/a-year-of-convulsions-in-new-yorks-prisons [https://perma.cc/3MQR-QRSR]. I then did my best to speak to people from as many other state systems as I could to build out the picture more broadly.524See infra Appendix B, Table 3.

Each interview proceeded as follows:

First, prior to beginning to record, I briefly described the study and what types of questions the interview would cover. I explained that the person was free to decline to answer any question they would prefer to skip over.525This rarely occurred. When it did, it was most often people preferring not to share their current weight. I also explained that if, at the end of the interview, they decided they did not want their data to be used in the study after all, they would be given an opportunity to retroactively withdraw their consent. Finally, I explained that the content of our exchange would be, not only confidential, but also fully anonymous. To that end, with the permission of each participant, I changed the name in their Zoom box to the random code I had previously selected for their interview, each taking the form FI.# (with FI standing for “Formerly Incarcerated”). Doing so ensured that even the person who transcribed the interview would not know the subject’s name. And once the interviews were transcribed, the (anonymized) transcript would be the only record of the interview. I then solicited consent to participate in the study and for the session to be recorded. Only after consent was granted on both fronts did we start the interview.

The interviews were semi-structured. On this approach, the questionnaire becomes the vehicle for introducing issues, any one of which may invite deeper inquiry depending on how the conversation goes. Each interview began with the interviewee providing their carceral history, including which facilities they were in, how long they spent in each, and the housing configuration of each. After asking them to estimate how much time they slept in each housing context, I asked one series of questions about issues that may have impaired sleep, and another about how if at all being chronically tired (or being surrounded by other chronically tired people) may have impacted their carceral experience or the functioning of the prison. A final set of questions addressed demographics and related issues.

Over the course of the research, I began to get a feel for which questions were most fruitful, and which yielded little of interest. Consequently, I stopped asking some questions altogether.526For example, one initial question asked whether poor ventilation ever interfered with sleep. Virtually no one answered this question in the affirmative, so I stopped asking it. I also started asking additional questions as salient issues emerged. This meant that, as to some issues—those that only emerged over time—I received input from fewer people than on those issues I had been asking about from the beginning. Among the questions that emerged in this way were:

  • Did you ever have trouble sleeping due to the presence of insects, rodents, or other vermin in your cell or dorm? If so, tell me about it.
  • Did you ever find it hard to sleep because of untreated physical pain? If so, tell me about it.
  • Did you have any difficulty sleeping in the bunks because of above-average weight or height, or did you ever see others in this situation? If so, how did you/they handle it?
  • Do you think staff were also tired/sleep deprived? If so, what makes you say so? If so, how did staff being tired affect your daily life or that of others in the prison?527I began asking the formerly incarcerated participants about staff fatigue once it became clear from my CO interviews that the COs too were profoundly sleep deprived.

During the initial process of drafting the questionnaire, an issue came up that I thought might be fruitful to pursue more systematically: the experience of people diagnosed with sleep apnea who used/tried to use CPAP machines in custody. I therefore designed a second, shorter questionnaire intended for use with this population. It contained targeted questions about sleep apnea and CPAP use,528I also asked about these issues in a less detailed way in the main questionnaire. and also asked what I thought were likely to be the core questions for all interview subjects: those concerning how long and how well people slept, the specific obstacles to sleep, and how being sleep deprived or being surrounded by people who were sleep deprived affected their carceral experience. After conducting two such interviews, I realized that I would not get sufficiently consistent data on the sleep apnea/CPAP piece to be able to say anything reliable on these issues. I therefore folded these two interviews into my larger data set and ceased soliciting participation from those in this category.529I originally coded these interviews as CPAP.#. When I made the decision to fold them into the larger data set, I gave them new code numbers of the FI.# form.

A question arose early on about whether doing the interviews over Zoom might disadvantage some participants. But it quickly became clear that, in a post-COVID world, virtually everyone was comfortable with the Zoom platform. Occasionally the start of an interview would be delayed by technical difficulties, but these were readily overcome.

At the close of each interview, after I ceased recording, I gave each person the opportunity to offer any thoughts they might have on the experience we had just shared. Once or twice, the subject began talking about an entirely new issue, one we had not discussed during the interview. Each time this happened, I hesitated to risk interrupting the flow by asking to restart the recording. I therefore took as detailed notes as I could and immediately after ending the call recorded my recollection of the exchange as part of the field notes for that interview.

At the close of each interview, I also gave each person the opportunity to withdraw their initial consent to participate and not to have their data included in the study. No one took me up on this offer. After each interview, I followed up by email to share my contact information and the contact information for the UCLA Office of the Human Research Protection Program, in case they had any questions or concerns about the research that they preferred not to go through me. I also shared the unique code for the $30 Amazon gift card that had been promised to each participant as a token of thanks for their participation.

Once the interviews were completed, the recordings were shared with a team of research assistants (“RAs”) for transcription. There were two steps to the transcription process. First, each interview was handed off to an RA who ran it through Otter.ai, which produced an initial transcript that caught roughly ninety to ninety-five percent of the content. That same RA then went simultaneously through the recording and the initial transcript and filled in any missing pieces. Second, the interview was handed off to another RA on the team, who went through the recording and transcript to catch any remaining errors.

The coding process proceeded as follows: I created an initial, lengthy list of coding categories, each taking the form #issue (e.g., #noiseinadseg, #extremeheat, #mattresses). My RAs then went through each transcript, identifying any passages related to each category. Whenever they identified a relevant passage, they dropped the code in the interview text (producing a set of coded interviews searchable by issue) and also added the text to a master coding document that grouped interview excerpts according to categories. To ensure quality control, I reviewed the first set of coded transcripts and an early version of the master coding document. As they went, my RAs sometimes added to the initial list of coding categories. We also created tables, populated with any data amenable to being preserved in this way (e.g., race, gender, state of origin, length of incarceration, age at initial incarceration, age on release, weight on entry, weight on release, and so on). I then went through the master coding document to identify relevant issues and representative passages. I also frequently went back to the coded transcripts to read for context and confirm impressions. In this Article, I only quoted passages that were representative of what I heard more generally.530See Amy E. Lerman & Vesla M. Weaver, Arresting Citizenship: The Democratic Consequences of American Crime Control 106 (2014) (explaining that, when they quoted from their interviews, they selected “only material that represents themes consistently articulated across the interviews”). Where the experiences varied, for example by security level or housing configuration, I indicated as much in the text.

Appendix B: Descriptive Statistics of the Sample

In this Appendix, I provide tabular representation of several aspects of the research sample amenable to quantification. Unless otherwise indicated, each table includes pertinent data for the thirty-five subjects formally enrolled in the study and the four individuals with whom I conducted ad hoc interviews.531For a description of the research methodology, including the two categories of interviews I conducted, see infra Appendix A.

Table 1.  Racial Distribution (n=39)

Identified as

# in sample

% of sample

Overall % in U.S. Prison and Jails532See Sawyer & Wagner, supra note 72, at 30 (“Racial and Ethnic Disparities in Correctional Facilities”) (rounding numbers so that the total is not 100%).

Black

15

38%

42%

White

13

33%

36%

Hispanic

7

18%

20%

Asian

1

3%

N/A

Native American

1

3%

3%533Includes American Indian and Alaska Native.

Mixed Race534Of the two subjects who identified as mixed race, one described themselves as Hispanic/Italian and the other as White/Asian.

2

5%

N/A

 

Table 2.  Gender Distribution (n=39)

Housed in facilities for

# in sample

% of sample

Overall % in U.S. Prisons535This data is based on numbers reported in two graphics: How Many People Are Locked up in the United States? and How Many Women Are Locked up in the United States? in Sawyer & Wagner, supra note 72, at 2, 30. (including state and federal prisons and federal jails).

Men

35536Includes one trans woman who served her full sentence in facilities for men. See supra note 76.

90%

93%

Women

4

10%

7%

 

 

Table 3.  Jurisdictional Breakdown (n=39)537Several individuals in my sample served time in multiple jurisdictions. For this reason, the number of jurisdictions represented here is greater than thirty-nine.

As this Table shows, the data on which this Article is based derived from interviews with people with firsthand experience of incarceration in seventeen state systems, as well as the D.C. Department of Corrections and the Federal Bureau of Prisons. In addition, six members of my sample served time in private prisons located in five different states. 

Alabama

2

California

5

Colorado

2

Illinois

2

Louisiana

4

Michigan

1

Missouri

1

New Jersey

5

New York

4

Ohio

1

Oregon

2

Pennsylvania

2

Rhode Island

1

Tennessee

1

Virginia

3

Washington, D.C.538Two members of my sample were convicted in Washington, D.C. and served the first part of their sentences in Lorton Penitentiary, a prison located in Virginia but housing only people from D.C. In 2001, Lorton was closed, and (along with everyone in Lorton) both of my interviewees were transferred out, one to BOP custody and one to the custody of the Virginia DOC.

2

Wisconsin

1

Wyoming

1

Federal Bureau of Prisons

4

Private prisons539Six members of my sample reported being housed for some portion of their prison terms in privately-run prisons. These facilities, eleven in total, were located in six states (as indicated in the table) and operated by several different private prison providers, including MTC, Dominion, GEO Group, and Corrections Corporation of America (“CCA”) (both before and after CCA changed its name to CoreCivic). In some cases, people were sent from their states of conviction to private prisons out of state. In those instances, I counted them as under the jurisdictions of their home states rather than the states where the private facilities were located.

6 (located in Arizona, California, Colorado, Ohio, Oklahoma, and Virginia)

 

Table 4.  Housing Configuration (n=39)

The figures in this table represent the total number of study subjects who experienced each type of housing configuration. If, as was common, a subject experienced multiple housing configurations over their incarceration, then all these configurations were counted in this table. It was not always possible from the interview transcripts to determine with precision the full range of a person’s experience, so these numbers are most likely undercounts.

Housing Type

Total # Interview Subjects Reporting Experience

Solitary confinement

29

Single cell

29

Double cell

30

3+ cell (range: 3–10 occupants)

10

Cubicle in dorm

12

Open dorm

25

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table 6.  Misc. Data Points

 

Minimum Value

Q1

Q2

Q3

Maximum Value

Hours of sleep per night (n=39)

3 (n=3)

4.5

5.1

6

11.5

Total years incarcerated (n=39)

3

9.5

13.5

23.5

45

Interview length (n=35) (hours: mins)

1:03

1:44

1:58

2:14

2:48

Years between release and interview

0

1

2

4

12 (n=2)

Table 6 features several data points as to which the answers reflected a range. To capture the breadth of responses, I used the standard “five number summary,” indicating as to each category the minimum value, Q1 (25th percentile/lower quartile), Q2 (50th percentile/median value), Q3 (75th percentile/upper quartile), and the maximum value. As to each data point, some further explication is in order, as follows:

Hours of sleep per night: The effort to calculate the hours of sleep per night my subjects received was complicated by many factors, including the long duration of the sentences served by many of my subjects and the wide range of experiences each had across housing configurations, not to mention inevitable variability night to night. I asked people to give me their best estimate of how many hours per night they slept on average in each housing configuration they experienced. When respondents reported variation across their incarceration, I took an average of the reported hours slept. If someone gave a range (e.g., four to six hours per night), but characterized the sleep quality as very poor or described themselves as waking frequently during the night, I took the low end of the stated range as more accurately reflecting the actual amount of sleep they likely received. These limitations mean that the numbers reported should be considered rough estimates only, although the considerable sleep deficit they indicate seems entirely consistent with the narrative accounts of the extremely limited and poor-quality sleep reported in the interviews.

The maximum value for hours of sleep per night is 11.5. The person who reported this outlier value served time in two prisons and reported sleeping eight hours a night in the first facility and fourteen to sixteen hours per night in the second. To calculate his hours slept for purposes of this chart, we took the average of eight hours (from prison #1) and the middle of the range he named for prison #2.540For more on this individual and his lengthy sleep time, see supra note 407.

Total years incarcerated: In building my sample, I sought to enroll only people who had spent at least six years in prison. I wound up enrolling two individuals who had done four years each, because each offered diversity as to other metrics. The minimum value noted in the table (three years in custody) reflects the experience of one of the individuals with whom, in part for this reason, I opted to conduct an ad hoc interview rather than formally enrolling them in the study.

Interview length: For this data point, I included only the thirty-five interviews conducted with those individuals formally enrolled as subjects in the study. I did so because the four ad hoc interviews took a different form and did not follow the path shaped by the questionnaire. For reference, the four ad hoc interviews ranged in duration from 1:05 to 2:09.

Years between release and interview: The interviews were conducted in 2023. Two members of my sample were released that same year and were coded as having had zero years between release and interview. Two members of my sample were released in 2011, twelve years prior to the interview. This gap was considerably greater than my intended parameter of five years. Each of these individuals was interviewed very early in the process, when I was still unsure whether I would find enough participants to assemble an adequate sample. Once things progressed and I had more people expressing interest in participating than I had time to interview, I reverted to requiring a release date within five years of the interview. One other enrolled participant was outside this stipulated limit. He had entered the wrong release date when he filled out the initial form expressing interest in participating, substituting 2018 for 2015. When I enrolled him in the study, I believed he was five years

out, and was surprised when, at the end of the interview, he named 2015 as his year of release. Having already conducted the interview, I opted to retain his data as part of the full data set.

 

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 95

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 *Professor of Law, UCLA School of Law. Thanks to Joe Doherty, Phil Goodman, Keramet Reiter, and Ashley Rubin for generously sharing their methodological advice and good counsel; Sasha Natapoff for many fruitful conversations; Ahilan Arulanantham, M. Forrest Behne, Chesa Boudin, Beth Colgan, Ethan Corey, Phil Goodman, Emma Kaufman, Sasha Natapoff, and Keramet Reiter, as well as participants at the Criminal Justice Roundtable at Harvard Law School and the UCLA Faculty Workshop, for helpful feedback; Muna Ali, Cecilia Bain, Zeke Bolden, Regina Campbell, Eugine Choo, Daniel Dulaney, Michaela Firmage, Jay Foss, Kyle Groves, Leslie Hernandez, Brennan Hickson, Ankita Katukota, Hadley Levenson, Emma Maynard, Kate Mitchell, Eireann O’Grady, Ginny Oshiro, Taylor Robinson, Natalie Sorrentino, Jack Stephens, Allie Tackett, Claudine Ushana, and Sorcha Whitley for their tremendous research assistance; Omer Sharon for guidance on the sleep science; Harvey Ellis, Freddy Guzman, Ken Hartman, Haller Jackson, Bart Lanni, and Ginny Oshiro for helpful input on the content of my questionnaires; and the Vital Projects Fund, the UCLA Academic Senate, and the UCLA ORCA Acceleration Grants Program (OAG) for financial support of this research. My deepest gratitude goes to the many individuals (who per IRB requirements must remain anonymous), who generously contributed their time to this study in the hope that, once people understand this dimension of the carceral experience, conditions on the ground might change for the better.

Litigation Finance in the Market Square

Litigation finance is the subject of a contentious scholarly and policy debate. Litigation funders provide capital to litigants or law firms in exchange for a share of case proceeds. The current debate centers on how litigation finance impacts the civil justice system. Proponents of funding argue it helps litigants get their day in court, while opponents argue funders pervert the judicial process. Policymakers are torn between these two competing viewpoints, without a clear path forward.

This Article reframes the debate about litigation finance. Scholars and policymakers have focused too narrowly on the “litigation” part of litigation finance, that is, on how funding impacts the legal system. We shift the focus to the “finance” implications of litigation finance. We explore for the first time how litigation finance affects competition not only in the courtroom but also in the marketplace—how companies use funding to access not just the courts but also the capital markets. To do this, we offer a novel interdisciplinary approach drawing on the classic business concept of “nonmarket strategies.” This scholarship, which has been all but ignored by legal scholars, studies how companies leverage “nonmarket” institutions like courts to increase their competitive advantage in the market. While we introduce this scholarship with reference to litigation finance, it holds promise to reframe the debate around legal issues far beyond the realm of litigation funding.

Our central claim is that any regulation of litigation finance is a regulation not only of the courts but also of the capital markets, with significant but unexplored implications for contemporary debates about funding. We show that the regulation of funding affects competition in the marketplace and is especially likely to harm small and medium-sized enterprises, which are more likely to rely upon litigation funding to pursue nonmarket strategies. Our approach also offers new insights into the ongoing debate about funding’s impact on the civil justice system. We conclude by inviting scholars and policymakers to further study these new questions about litigation finance’s impact outside the courthouse gates and in the market square.

  Introduction

This Article reframes the contentious scholarly and policy debate about litigation finance. Third-party litigation funders provide capital to litigants or law firms in exchange for an interest in the potential recovery from a legal claim.1Suneal Bedi & William C. Marra, The Shadows of Litigation Finance, 74 Vand. L. Rev. 563, 570 (2021); U.S. Gov’t Accountability Off., GAO-23-105210, Third-Party Litigation Financing: Market Characteristics, Data, and Trends 1 (2022). The standard approach to litigation funding focuses exclusively on how litigation finance affects litigation: that is, how it impacts the civil justice system and access to the courts.2See infra Part I.B. Scholars have explored whether funding improves or impairs the legal system, benefits or harms litigants, prolongs or expedites cases, impairs or supports the attorney-client relationship, and so on.3For a non-exhaustive list of scholarly articles exploring the legal implications of litigation finance, see, e.g., Tom Baker, What Litigation Funders Can Learn About Settlement Rights From the Law of Liability Insurance, 25 Theoretical Inquiries L. (forthcoming 2025) (manuscript at 3) (drawing parallels between litigation insurers and litigation funders and demonstrating implications for the debate over funder control of litigation); Brian T. Fitzpatrick, Can and Should the New Third-Party Litigation Financing Come to Class Actions?, 19 Theoretical Inquiries L. 109, 122 (2018) (arguing that litigation finance will create outcomes more in line with merits rather than financial strength); J. Maria Glover, Alternative Litigation Finance and the Limits of the Work-Product Doctrine, 12 N.Y.U. J.L. & Bus. 911, 911 (2016) (discussing whether litigation funding communications are discoverable in court); Jeremy Kidd, To Fund or Not to Fund: The Need for Second-Best Solutions to the Litigation Finance Dilemma, 8 J.L. Econ. & Pol’y 613, 627–29 (2012) (discussing the increase of frivolous claims and lawyers’ rent-seeking behavior); Jonathan T. Molot, Litigation Finance: A Market Solution to a Procedural Problem, 99 Geo. L.J. 65, 101–02 (2010) (discussing how litigation finance affects pre-trial settlements); Anthony J. Sebok & W. Bradley Wendel, Duty in the Litigation-Investment Agreement: The Choice Between Tort and Contract Norms When the Deal Breaks Down, 66 Vand. L. Rev. 1831, 1832 (2013) (discussing the nature of litigation finance investment agreements); Joanna M. Shepherd & Judd E. Stone II, Economic Conundrums in Search of a Solution: The Functions of Third-Party Litigation Finance, 47 Ariz. St. L.J. 919, 919 (2015) (discussing how third-party funding assists claimants and law firms). In the political arena, a fight over how funding should be regulated pits those who argue funding levels the litigation playing field against those who contend it spurs frivolous suits and encourages speculation on lawsuits.4See infra Part I.C. and accompanying notes.

These are important themes but not the full story. Litigation finance is not just “likely the most important development in civil justice of our time,”5Maya Steinitz, Follow the Money? A Proposed Approach for Disclosure of Litigation Finance Agreements, 53 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 1073, 1075 (2019). it is also a highly important development for the capital markets and business arena. To fully appreciate the welfare effects of third-party funding, scholars and policymakers must study not only how litigation finance impacts litigation but also how it impacts finance; how it affects not only access to the courts but also access to the capital markets. This Article starts that process.

This Article is the first to shift the debate about litigation finance to a host of vital questions that are not currently being considered: How does litigation finance affect business competition? What impact does the rise of this new corner of the capital markets have on corporate strategy, including the use of litigation to gain a strategic advantage in the marketplace? Why do some companies finance litigations and other business activities with third-party litigation funding, rather than with more traditional third-party debt and equity financing? Who wins—and who loses—in the business arena when we impose regulations designed to restrict access to litigation finance? How do the answers to these questions bear upon the existing debate about funding?

One reason these questions about litigation finance have not yet been explored is that legal scholars do not have an accepted framework for analyzing how companies engage with litigation for strategic business purposes. We provide that framework by drawing on foundational business scholarship about “nonmarket strategies,” which provides an account of how companies leverage the courts, legislatures, and other “nonmarket” institutions to jockey for position in the market.6See infra Part II. Nonmarket strategy research has a long history in management and business journals. For some leading articles, see, e.g., David P. Baron, The Nonmarket Strategy System, MIT Sloan Mgmt. Rev., Fall 1995, at 73, 73; David P. Baron, Integrated Strategy: Market and Nonmarket Components, 37 Cal. Mgmt. Rev. 47, 47 (1995); David P. Baron & Daniel Diermeier, Strategic Activism and Nonmarket Strategy, 16 J. Econ. & Mgmt. Strategy 599, 599 (2007); Sinziana Dorobantu, Aseem Kaul & Bennet Zelner, Nonmarket Strategy Research Through the Lens of New Institutional Economics: An Integrative Review and Future Directions, 38 Strat. Mgmt. J. 114, 114 (2017); Kamel Mellahi, Jędrzej George Frynas, Pei Sun & Donald Siegel, A Review of the Nonmarket Strategy Literature: Toward a Multi-Theoretical Integration, 42 J. Mgmt. 143, 143 (2016). The nonmarket strategy literature speaks directly to how companies interact with the judicial process to gain an advantage in the market, yet it has been almost entirely ignored by legal scholars.7For the rare discussions of nonmarket strategies in legal scholarship, see, e.g., John C. Coates IV, Corporate Speech & the First Amendment: History, Data, and Implications, 30 Const. Comment. 223, 270 (2015) (briefly referring to litigation challenging agency action as a nonmarket strategy); Jill E. Fisch, How Do Corporations Play Politics?: The FedEx Story, 58 Vand. L. Rev. 1495, 1558 (2005) (discussing FedEx’s use of nonmarket strategies); Sean Leibowitz, State Insurance Rate Regulation: A Coasian Perspective, 17 J.L. Bus. & Ethics 107, 117 (2011) (briefly addressing nonmarket strategies in the context of rate regulation); Christopher J.S. Termini, Note, Return on Political Investment: The Puzzle of Ex Ante Investment in Articles 3 and 4 of the U.C.C., 92 Va. L. Rev. 1023, 1039 (2006) (briefly addressing nonmarket strategies in the context of lobbying). Although we introduce a nonmarket strategy approach in the context of how companies engage with litigation finance, this framework holds the promise of influencing legal scholarship across the waterfront of issues pertaining to business litigation.8Legal scholars have offered approaches to certain nonmarket strategies. For example, public choice theory provides an account for how interest groups including businesses influence legislation and regulation. See, e.g., Gary S. Becker, A Theory of Competition Among Pressure Groups for Political Influence, 98 Q. J. Econ. 371, 371 (1983); George J. Stigler, The Theory of Economic Regulation, 2 Bell J. Econ. & Mgmt. Sci. 3, 3 (1971). But public choice theory focuses on political decision-making and does not emphasize other subjects of the nonmarket strategy framework, such as how companies leverage legal claims as assets, use litigation as a strategic business tool, or engage in self-regulation. See infra Part II.

Analyzing litigation finance through the lens of nonmarket strategies, we highlight three ways the use of litigation finance affects competition in the market square. First, companies use litigation finance not only to finance litigation but also to raise working capital to support business growth, leveraging the courts (a nonmarket institution) to strengthen their capital position in the market. In this way, litigation finance is simply a new dimension of the financial markets and one that is especially likely to provide a lifeline to small and medium-sized enterprises (“SMEs”) that have relatively thin access to traditional equity and debt capital markets.9See infra Part III.A. Second, companies use litigation finance to pursue litigation as a nonmarket strategy—that is, they use litigation to obtain a strategic advantage relative to other marketplace actors, the same way well-resourced companies have done since long before the advent of the modern litigation finance industry.10See infra Part III.B. Third, we recast lobbying efforts to regulate litigation finance and the actions of related trade associations to support or attack litigation finance as, themselves, nonmarket strategies used by companies that stand to lose or gain from the growth of litigation finance.11See infra Part III.C.

These insights provide a fresh perspective on debates about litigation funding. First, we identify an entire set of funding’s policy implications that scholars and policymakers have overlooked. Existing discussions of litigation finance present only one view of the cathedral.12See Guido Calabresi & A. Douglas Melamed, Property Rules, Liability Rules, and Inalienability: One View of the Cathedral, 85 Harv. L. Rev. 1089, 1089 & n.2 (1972). Litigation finance’s impact on litigation is explored at length but its impact on finance and business strategy is ignored. Scholars and policymakers cannot fully understand or effectively address litigation finance unless they explore its implications for both litigation and finance. Indeed, one could set aside entirely the debate about whether litigation finance is good for the legal system and still be left with a host of questions about whether litigation finance is good for business and finance.

Our study of the business and finance implications of litigation finance reveals that almost all companies use some form of third-party financing—“other people’s money”—to pay for litigation and other legitimate business pursuits.13See infra Part IV.A. Some companies use traditional debt and equity financing. But for many companies—primarily SMEs—structuring a capital raise as a litigation finance investment is the most efficient, or even the only, way to raise new third-party capital. Litigation finance is thus used disproportionately by SMEs to pursue nonmarket strategies that might allow those firms to better compete against larger incumbent players. Regulation of modern commercial litigation finance may undermine SMEs’ ability to compete in the marketplace, likely diminishing welfare.

Second, our study of the finance implications of litigation finance also brings fresh insights to the existing debate about how litigation finance impacts the civil justice system.14See infra Part IV.B. The traditional debate first defines third-party litigation funding and then zooms in on its impact on the legal system. We instead zoom out and place the modern litigation finance industry in the broader context of the many ways companies use third-party capital to finance litigation and other legitimate business pursuits. When we do this, we show that many arguments that third-party litigation finance adversely affects the civil justice system—that it might promote frivolous litigation, invite foreign control of litigation, and impair the principle of party control—apply equally or even more forcefully to the many other ways claimholders raise third-party capital to support litigation (for example, via traditional debt and equity capital). These insights both expose existing efforts to regulate litigation funding as vastly underinclusive relative to their stated goals and help us see the (mostly negative) welfare effects of targeting only one specific form of third-party funding—that is, the kind of third-party funding supplied by the modern litigation finance industry and especially demanded by SMEs.

This Article proceeds in five parts. Part I describes litigation finance and how it has been framed in the scholarly and policy debate, demonstrating that the narrow focus on litigation finance as a purely “litigation” phenomenon has led to ad hoc regulations and confusion by legislatures on how to manage litigation finance. Part II introduces the concept of nonmarket strategies and describes the various “nonmarket” strategic behaviors that companies pursue. Part III identifies three ways companies use litigation finance (and the regulation of funding) as a nonmarket strategy to jockey for position in the financial and commercial markets. Part IV offers policy implications of this new framework. Part V draws out implications of our framework for legal and business scholars.

I. Today’s Debate About Litigation Finance

We first provide a background on litigation finance, defining what it is and reviewing its scholarly and public policy debate.

A. What is Litigation Finance?

Imagine you are the CEO of a small, family-owned technology company. You invented high-flying weather balloons that operate as airborne communication systems. A much larger company suggests a joint venture, signs a nondisclosure agreement, and learns your trade secrets. In the end, no deal happens—but the larger company soon copies your tech anyway and recreates its own version of your weather balloons.15See Space Data Corp. v. X, No. 16-cv-3260, 2017 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 22571, at *1 (N.D. Cal. Feb. 16, 2017).

Assume that to rebuild you need $15 million, including $5 million to bring a $150 million trade secret misappropriation case against your one-time joint venture partner and another $10 million to research and develop a next-generation weather balloon transceiver. You have a strong, and therefore valuable, legal claim.16See Geoffrey P. Miller, Commentary, On the Costs of Civil Justice, 80 Tex. L. Rev. 2115, 2115 (2002); Sebok & Wendel, supra note 3, at 1842. Cf. Cannon-Stokes v. Potter, 453 F.3d 446, 447 (7th Cir. 2006) (recognizing that “valuable legal claims” are “assets” of a bankruptcy estate). But you do not have $15 million. You approach the traditional debt or equity markets, but you experience the same problems many SMEs face: a thin capital market, high lending rates, and reluctant equity investors.17See infra Part III.A.1 and accompanying text. What can you do?

An emerging solution is litigation finance, the practice where a third party provides capital to a litigant or law firm in exchange for an interest in the potential recovery of a legal claim.18Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 570; U.S. Gov’t Accountability Off., GAO-23-105210, Third-Party Litigation Financing: Market Characteristics, Data, and Trends 1. “Litigation funding agreement[s],” one court recently acknowledged, “are a fact of contemporary complex litigation.”19In re Broiler Chicken Antitrust Litig., No. 16 C 8637, 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 50303, at *58 (N.D. Ill. Mar. 21, 2024). Instead of trading away equity in the company or pledging assets to a traditional lender, you can pledge expected proceeds from your legal claim as collateral for the $15 million you need.

Litigation finance investments are typically “non-recourse,” which means the litigation funder receives its return only if the case succeeds.20Ronen Avraham & Abraham Wickelgren, Third-Party Litigation Funding—A Signaling Model, 63 DePaul L. Rev. 233, 244 (2014). It is technically more precise to say that litigation finance agreements are limited recourse: the funder has recourse to any proceeds from the legal claim, and funding agreements typically become full recourse if the funded breach commits a material breach. See, e.g., Exhibit 10.1 Litigation Funding Agreement at § 9.1, DiaMedica Therapeutics Inc. v. PRA Health Scis., Inc., No. 18-1318, 2020 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 171921 (D. Del. Sept. 21, 2020) (limitation of liability provision recognizing that the funder has recourse in the event of a breach). If the case loses, the funder receives nothing.21Mariel Rodak, Comment, It’s About Time: A Systems Thinking Analysis of the Litigation Finance Industry and Its Effect on Settlement, 155 U. Pa. L. Rev. 503, 506–07 (2006). The non-recourse nature of litigation finance can make it attractive even to companies that can access the traditional equity and debt capital markets, because (unlike new equity investment) litigation finance does not dilute existing shareholders,22See, e.g., Stephen J. Choi & A.C. Pritchard, Securities Regulation: Cases and Analysis 393 (2012) (explaining that “bringing in more equity owners dilutes the potential upside return” for pre-existing shareholders); Arjya B. Majumdar, The (Un?)Enforceability of Investor Rights in Indian Private Equity, 41 U. Pa. J. Int’l L. 981, 1010–11 (2020) (“Future rounds of investment which involve fresh issues of equity will inevitably dilute the existing shareholding of the investor. Dilution is the reduction of a shareholder’s ownership percentage in a company due to an increase in the paid up share capital.”). and (unlike debt finance) funders do not have the right to regular payments of interest and principal or the power to put the company into bankruptcy or sue for recovery if those payments are not made.23See, e.g., Ronald J. Mann, Explaining the Pattern of Secured Credit, 110 Harv. L. Rev. 625, 639 (1997) (discussing certain remedies of secured lenders).

The key insight, then, of the modern litigation finance industry is an insight not so much about the civil justice system but about corporate finance: legal claims are assets against which companies can secure financing, no different than inventory, real estate, and accounts receivable. In short, litigation funders are asset-based investors, and the asset is law.24Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 571 (“Litigation finance allows claimholders, or law firms with contingent fee interests in claims, to secure financing against those assets, just as the owner of a home, factory, or account receivable may use those assets as collateral for financing.”).

Asset-based investing typically requires specialized expertise,25See Paul M. Shupack, Preferred Capital Structures and the Question of Filing, 79 Minn. L. Rev. 787, 808 (1995). and litigation finance is no different. Instead of valuing a company’s real property or inventory, litigation finance companies expend great time and effort studying the merits of legal claims before advancing capital against those claims.26Mathew Andrews, Note, The Growth of Litigation Finance in DOJ Whistleblower Suits: Implications and Recommendations, 123 Yale L.J. 2422, 2437 (2014) (reviewing the “extensive due diligence process” of four different litigation funders). The need for subject-matter expertise has led to specialization among litigation funders.27Sebok & Wendel, supra note 3, at 1842 (distinguishing between the commercial and consumer funding markets). Some litigation finance companies invest primarily in business-to-business disputes. These “commercial litigation funders” include publicly-traded companies like Burford Capital and Omni Bridgeway, multi-strategy hedge funds like the D.E. Shaw Group, and privately-held groups like Parabellum Capital and Certum Group.28Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 576. Other financiers focus instead on financing mass tort claims, where they typically help law firms advertise for clients who have been injured in a particular mass tort.29For a contrasting review of the effect litigation finance has on mass torts, compare Samir D. Parikh, Opaque Capital and Mass-Tort Financing, 133 Yale L.J. F. 32, 32 (2023) (arguing that litigation funders exert undue influence in the resolution of mass torts disputes), with Elizabeth Chamblee Burch, Financiers as Monitors in Aggregate Litigation, 87 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 1273, 1276–77 (2012) (arguing that third-party funders can play a beneficial role as monitors who mitigate principal-agent problems between lawyers and clients). Still other entities are consumer litigation funders, primarily providing small-dollar advances to individuals with personal injury and medical malpractice claims.30For scholarship studying litigation finance in the consumer funding sector, see, e.g., Terrence Cain, Third Party Funding of Personal Injury Tort Claims: Keep the Baby and Change the Bathwater, 89 Chi.-Kent L. Rev. 11, 11–16 (2014) (reviewing the consumer funding industry and proposing certain regulations); Ronen Avraham, Lynn A. Baker & Anthony J. Sebok, The MDL Revolution and Consumer Legal Funding, 40 Rev. Litig. 143, 160 (2021) (analyzing the archive of 225,293 requests for funding from one of the largest consumer litigation finance companies).

Commercial litigation finance companies typically undertake months-long due diligence processes before they invest in a case.31Andrews, supra note 26, at 2438 (explaining that “any claims that come before [the studied litigation funders] are likely rigorously vetted” and stating that at least one funder spends an average of $75,000 to $100,000 in diligence on cases before funding); Erick Robinson, More Litigation Funding Rules Would Threaten Access to Justice, Bloomberg L. (Apr. 30, 2024, 1:31 AM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/us-law-week/more-litigation-funding-rules-would-threaten-access-to-justice [https://perma.cc/4SJU-KP22] (describing the “arduous months-long process of obtaining approval for funding”). Funders are staffed with highly experienced lawyers who develop specialized expertise in evaluating whether a case is a winner or loser.32Michael Perich, Profile of Litigation Funders, Bloomberg L. (Jan. 3, 2024), https://pro.bloomberglaw.com/insights/business-of-law/litigation-funding [https://perma.cc/M73Z-K52Z] (explaining that “[e]ach traditional litigation funder is staffed by former attorneys who perform thorough diligence on the cases they consider financing”). Funders frequently consult subject matter experts to assist with their evaluation, including outside diligence counsel and third-party damages experts.33Andrews, supra note 26, at 2437 (discussing funders’ use of outside diligence experts). The net effect is that commercial funders invest in only a tiny fraction of cases they see—typically less than 10% of opportunities.34Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 607 (“Commercial litigation financiers reject the vast majority (even ninety percent or more) of financing requests that they receive.”); Burford Cap., Annual Report 2019, at 17 (2020), https://s206.q4cdn.com/737820215/files/doc_financials/2019/ar/fy-2019-report.pdf [https://perma.cc/7NEY-3HCA] (reporting that in 2018 and 2019, Burford invested in 5.9% and 7%, respectively, of inbound requests for funding). In the end, it is likely that a funder’s evaluation process is even more rigorous than the evaluation provided by contingent fee law firms or by companies deciding whether to pursue a case with their own retained earnings.35Cf. Bob Craig & Daniel Ryan, Litigation Finance 101: What You Need to Know, Berkeley Rsch. Grp., Fall 2018, https://www.thinkbrg.com/thinkset/ts-litigation-finance-101 [https://perma.cc/RA9T-RQ8C] (“Litigation funders bring a significant level of discipline and professionalism to damage assessment, because their business depends on it. In this regard, litigation funding is analogous to the broader movement to outsource non-core corporate functions—web hosting, IT, property management, etc.—to specialized vendors as part of a quest for efficiency and agility.”).

In this Article, we focus on the commercial litigation finance space, which is by all accounts the largest and most prominent segment of the litigation finance industry and is also the emerging target of regulation by policymakers.36See infra note 37 and accompanying text (providing a market size of the litigation finance industry); infra Part I.C (discussing regulators’ shifting attention towards the commercial litigation finance space). The two largest publicly-traded litigation funders in the United States, Burford Capital and Omni Bridgeway, are both commercial litigation funders. In 2023, there were an estimated thirty-nine active commercial litigation finance companies, with a total of $15.2 billion in assets under management.37Westfleet Advisors, The Westfleet Insider: 2023 Litigation Finance Market Report 3 (2024) [hereinafter Westfleet 2023 Report], https://www.westfleetadvisors.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/WestfleetInsider2023-Litigation-Finance-Market-Report.pdf [https://perma.cc/KU2E-8SCN]. These companies made $2.7 billion in new litigation finance commitments that year, with funding distributed across 353 new deals.38Id. Commercial litigation finance companies invest in a range of business-to-business disputes, including contract, business tort, antitrust, patent infringement, trademark, copyright, and trade secret misappropriation cases.39See, e.g., Disputes we finance, Burford Cap., https://www.burfordcapital.com/what-we-do/disputes-we-finance [https://perma.cc/W9SU-7J62]; Jim Batson, Consumer vs. Commercial Litigation Funding: How They Are Different and Why It Matters from a Regulatory Perspective, Omni Bridgeway (Jan. 31, 2018), https://omnibridgeway.com/insights/blog/blog-posts/blog-details/global/2018/01/31/consumer-vs.-commercial-litigation-funding-how-they-are-different-and-why-it-matters-from-a-regulatory-perspective [https://perma.cc/JS46-6NRP]. Commercial litigation funders can finance either claimants or law firms,40Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 571 n.26 (explaining that litigation funders can provide capital directly to a litigant or to a law firm); see also Westfleet 2023 Report, supra note 37, at 6 (finding that in 2023, 64% of litigation finance agreements were between funders and law firms, with the balance between funders and claimholders). For a particularly insightful discussion of law firm-directed financing, see Anthony J. Sebok, Selling Attorneys’ Fees, 2018 U. Ill. L. Rev. 1207, 1207 (2018) (arguing that a law firm’s sale of future, or unmatured, fees does not violate the legal ethics rule prohibition against lawyers sharing fees with non-lawyers). and they can invest at any stage of the case, from pre-suit through appeal and post-judgment proceedings.41Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 573 (“Claimholders can seek funding at all stages of a case, from before a complaint is filed to after final judgment is entered.”).

Litigants and law firms can use litigation finance in two different ways: to pursue their legal claims and to raise general-purpose working capital. To begin with the first point, litigation is very expensive.42See Emery G. Lee III, Law Without Lawyers: Access to Civil Justice and the Cost of Legal Services, 69 U. Miami L. Rev. 499, 503 (2015) (detailing how the rising cost of legal services impedes access to justice). Many litigants are liquidity-constrained: they lack access to the thousands or even millions of dollars it takes to pursue litigation.43For discussions of risk and liquidity constraints for litigants, see Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 579; Cary Martin, Private Investment Companies in the Wake of the Financial Crisis: Rethinking the Effectiveness of the Sophisticated Investor Exemption, 37 Del. J. Corp. L. 49, 59 (2012); Avraham & Wickelgren, supra note 20, at 235; J.B. Heaton, Litigation Funding: An Economic Analysis, 42 Am. J. Trial Advoc. 307, 327–30 (2019); Shepherd & Stone, supra note 3, at 923–30. Even if prospective litigants have the money to pursue the case, they may be risk-constrained: that is, they may not want to risk their capital in an uncertain litigation.44See Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 579. Law firms can litigate cases in exchange for a contingent fee—effectively operating as a third-party funder—but law firms are usually uniquely ill-suited to invest in litigation, for reasons that scholars have explored at length.45Edward S. Adams & John H. Matheson, Law Firms on the Big Board?: A Proposal for Nonlawyer Investment in Law Firms, 86 Cal. L. Rev. 1, 1–3 (1998) (discussing the challenges lawyers have in raising third-party capital); Shepherd & Stone, supra note 3, at 929–30; see also Brian Fitzpatrick & William C. Marra, Agency Costs in Third-Party Litigation Finance Reconsidered, Theoretical Inquiries L. (forthcoming 2025) (manuscript at 10–12) (discussing the agency problems inherent in both contingent fee and hourly fee arrangements and contending that the hybrid fee arrangement typically requested by litigation funders, in which the law firm is compensated with a portion of its hourly rate and a modest contingent upside, better aligns the interests of lawyer and client than either the contingent fee or hourly fee models). Litigation finance provides an alternative path for litigants and law firms to finance their cases.

The second way litigants can use litigation finance is by using the funding as working capital to finance general corporate endeavors, including to hire new workers, build new products, or invest in research and development.46Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 572–73. In this sense, litigation funders operate similarly to traditional equity and debt providers, advancing capital in return for an interest in potentially valuable assets.47See infra Part III.A. Although the focus of this Article is the use of litigation funding directly by claimholders, law firms may also use litigation finance as working capital—drawing down funding against

existing contingent fee matters to hire new employees and expand client services.48Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 571 & 571 n.26.

While commentators typically distinguish between funders’ supply of fees and costs funding on the one hand and working capital on the other hand, it is important to remember that money is fungible.49See Tanner Dowdy, Speech Markets & Web3: Refreshing the First Amendment for Non-Fungible Tokens (NFTs), 91 U. Cin. L. Rev. 206, 213 (2022) (explaining that “money is a classic fungible asset—it is interchangeable and is capable of being fractionalized, i.e., (dollars can break down into cents)” and that “[t]he fungible nature of money allows one to substitute a five-dollar bill with five one-dollar bills” (internal quotation marks omitted)). A dollar of third-party financing allocated for one purpose frees capital for other purposes.50Cf. David Adam Friedman, Bringing Candor to Charitable Solicitations, 78 Md. L. Rev. 709, 728 (2019) (explaining problems related to the fungible nature of money that arise when charities make representations to use money in a certain way). Thus, even if a claimholder obtains third-party litigation funding that may be used only to pay its lawyers in a case, this financing frees up the company’s remaining capital to pursue other legitimate corporate purposes like paying employee wages, delivering goods and services, and so on.51See W. Bradley Wendel, Paying the Piper But Not Calling the Tune: Litigation Financing and Professional Independence, 52 Akron L. Rev. 1, 14 (2018) (“During the time the lawsuit was pending, the small company would not be using its capital to innovate and compete more effectively against the large manufacturer. Litigation financing thus offers litigants the opportunity to make more productive use of their working capital, rather than dissipating it on the expenses of litigation.”). Similarly, when funders support law firms, this funding typically enables lawyers to enter into a “full contingency” relationship with their clients (with the firm’s fees partially funded by the litigation funder), enabling the claimholder to pursue a case without having to devote its finite resources to paying lawyers.52Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 574 (describing law firm “portfolio funding”); Zeqing Zheng, Note, The Paper Chase: Fee-Splitting vs. Independent Judgment in Portfolio Litigation Financing of Commercial Litigation, 34 Geo. J. Legal Ethics 1383, 1384 (2021) (“Portfolio financing involves funding arrangements between third-party litigation funders and lawyers where funders invest in a portfolio of cases managed by one law firm. Under portfolio financing, there is a separation between the funder and the client.”) (footnote omitted). Thus, even funding directed to law firms helps corporate claimholders free up capital for general corporate purposes.

B. The Scholarly Debate

Legal scholars are paying attention to what Maya Steinitz calls “likely the most important development in civil justice of our time.”53Steinitz, supra note 5, at 1075. The scholarship about litigation finance is vibrant and growing. Yet virtually the entire collection treats litigation finance as fundamentally a litigation phenomenon. That is, scholars study litigation finance almost solely as a development in “civil justice,” examining how funding impacts the legal system.54Maya Steinitz, Whose Claim Is This Anyway? Third-Party Litigation Funding, 95 Minn. L. Rev. 1268, 1299–1300 (2011) (explaining that “[v]irtually all of the literature arguing in favor of permitting litigation funding does so on the basis that it will reverse the exclusion of have-nots from the courthouse” and expanding the analysis to focus on another litigation issue, that is, the potential for litigation finance “to significantly reduce the Great Men’s grip on the courts”). The unit of analysis is the legal system, with proponents of litigation finance arguing that funding creates a better legal system and opponents arguing that funding hurts civil justice.55See, e.g., Samuel Antill & Steven R. Grenadier, Financing the Litigation Arms Race, J. Fin. Econ. 218, 219 (2023) (arguing that litigation funding likely deters wasteful defense-side bullying and necessarily causes an increase in the filing of frivolous litigation); Terrence Cain, Third Party Funding of Personal Injury Tort Claims: Keep the Baby and Change the Bathwater, 89 Chi.-Kent L. Rev. 11, 12–13 (2014) (summarizing the arguments for and against funding, all of which concern funding’s impact on the legal system); Steinitz, supra note 54, at 1327–32 (listing the regulatory questions as all concerning litigation funding’s impact on the civil justice system, including champerty, attorney-client-funder relationship and agency issues, court supervision, and the funding contract); Austin L. Popp, Note, Federal Regulation of Third-Party Litigation Finance, 72 Vand. L. Rev. 727, 740–44 (2019) (listing the objections to litigation finance as all concerning funding’s impact on litigation, including whether funders promote frivolous claims, improperly influence litigation strategy, and impair privilege and work product protections). Indeed, even articles that apply an economic lens to litigation finance apply that lens to study how funding impacts litigation, not how funding impacts the financial markets or the broader business world.56Jeremy Kidd has written about competition among litigation funders in the litigation finance market. See Jeremy Kidd, Probate Funding and the Litigation Funding Debate, 76 Wash. & Lee L. Rev. 261, 294–95 (2019); Jeremy Kidd, Modeling the Likely Effects of Litigation Financing, 47 Loy. U. Chi. L.J. 1239, 1257 (2016). For other works taking an economic lens to litigation finance, see, e.g., Keith Sharfman, The Economic Case Against Forced Disclosure of Third Party Litigation Funding, 94 N.Y. St. Bar J. 36, 38–39 (2022) (studying the debate about disclosure through an economic lens to determine how it impacts parties during litigation); Maya Steinitz, How Much is that Lawsuit in the Window? Pricing Legal Claims, 66 Vand. L. Rev. 1889, 1904–05 (2013) (studying how litigation finance impacts the price at which claims settle); Radek Goral, Justice Dealers: The Ecosystem of American Litigation Finance, 21 Stan. J.L. Bus. & Fin. 98, 138 (2015) (arguing that litigation funders view modern civil litigation as not just “a forum for redress of private grievances” but “also a clearinghouse for complex financial interests attached to legal claims presented, assessed, and settled through the legal infrastructure”); Molot, supra note 3, at 72–73 (describing litigation finance as a mechanism to allow cases to resolve at the optimal price).

Existing scholarship studies the litigation effects of litigation finance from many different and important angles. Scholars have debated whether litigation funding increases the amount of litigation and whether it results in the filing of frivolous lawsuits.57Compare Antill & Grenadier, supra note 55, at 219 (presenting financial modeling that shows “litigation financing does not necessarily encourage frivolous lawsuits”), with Kidd, supra note 3, at 627–29 (2012) (arguing that litigation financing will increase the number of high-value frivolous claims and lawyers’ rent-seeking behavior to manipulate the common law toward favorable rules). They have studied how litigation funding affects litigants’ access to the courts58See, e.g., Steinitz, supra note 54, at 1338 (noting that third-party financing of litigation “will increase access to justice and encourage private enforcement of the law”). and the price at which claims settle.59See, e.g., Fitzpatrick, supra note 3, at 122 (explaining that litigation financing’s potential effects—increasing the number and length of litigated cases—increase the likelihood that cases will be resolved based on the merits, not based on the parties’ resources or risk tolerances); Molot, supra note 3, at 101–02 (noting that the lack of market alternatives causes risk-averse plaintiffs to settle prematurely relative to the lawsuit’s merits). Scholars have studied how funding impacts the price of legal services and how it injects competition into the market for legal services.60Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 610–11 (arguing that litigation funders introduce price competition, because funders compete directly with law firms for the right to finance a case). They have explored whether litigation funding violates background legal rules about champerty and maintenance.61See, e.g., Susan Lorde Martin, Syndicated Lawsuits: Illegal Champerty or New Business Opportunity?, 30 Am. Bus. L.J. 485, 511 (1992); Anthony J. Sebok, The Inauthentic Claim, 64 Vand. L. Rev. 61, 110 (2011). They have studied whether litigation funding runs afoul of the legal ethics rules62See, e.g., Anthony J. Sebok, Should the Law Preserve Party Control? Litigation Investment, Insurance Law, and Double Standards, 56 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 833, 836–39 (2015); Wendel, supra note 51, at 21–22. and whether funders interfere with (or strengthen) the attorney-client relationship.63James M. Fischer, Litigation Financing: A Real or Phantom Menace to Lawyer Professional Responsibility?, 27 Geo. J. Legal Ethics 191, 194 (2014) (“While litigation financing may present difficulties and challenges for lawyers, particularly plaintiff’s counsel, under current professional codes, those difficulties and challenges may be avoided and overcome by careful planning by the affected lawyer.”); Fitzpatrick & Marra, supra note 45, at 11–12 (arguing that the hybrid fee arrangements typically presented in litigation funding arrangements better align the interests of lawyer and client than either the pure hourly or pure contingent fee arrangement).

An especially large body of scholarship studies whether litigation funding agreements and communications should be disclosed to the court and defendants during litigation, both as a policy matter and under the attorney work product doctrine and attorney-client privilege.64See, e.g., Michele DeStefano, Claim Funders and Commercial Claim Holders: A Common Interest or a Common Problem?, 63 DePaul L. Rev. 305, 311 (2014) (arguing that courts should adopt a broad understanding of the common interest doctrine to protect communications between funders and funded parties); Maria Glover, supra note 3, at 942 (identifying a “mismatch” between the work product doctrine and litigation funding, and arguing that “discovery requests for funding materials will remain a tempting means of indirectly disabling or hindering the ability of impecunious parties to pursue their claims”). Control is another hot topic, with scholars debating whether funders should be allowed to control litigation strategy decisions.65Maya Steinitz, The Litigation Finance Contract, 54 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 455, 517–18 (2012) (arguing that litigation funders should be treated as real parties in interest and should be allowed to control litigation decisions); Baker, supra note 3, at 3–4 (arguing that it is routine and uncontroversial for insurers to control litigation and contending that insurers are effectively defense-side litigation funders).

This scholarship is important, but it studies litigation finance through a narrow lens: the effect that litigation finance has on the legal system. A few scholars have discussed the causes of litigation finance—that is, why companies use third-party litigation funding to finance their cases. But that scholarship (which includes our own) is mostly limited to explaining that companies typically use litigation funding because they are either liquidity-constrained—that is, they do not have the capital to pursue the case—or they are risk-constrained—that is, they do not want to risk their capital on litigation.66Heaton, supra note 43, at 309; Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 578; Shepherd & Stone, supra note 3, at 927. This explanation is true as far as it goes, but it goes only far enough to explain why companies would use third-party capital rather than retained earnings to finance litigation or working capital needs. While commentators have recognized the valuable non-recourse nature of litigation finance, no one has studied at depth why companies might use third-party litigation finance rather than the host of other ways they can raise third-party capital like traditional debt or equity finance to support their litigation and business endeavors.67Indeed, most discussions of litigation funding overlook that litigation can be financed by general-recourse third-party debt and equity capital in which the investors’ return is not tied solely to a litigation outcome. See, e.g., Jean Xiao, Heuristics, Biases, and Consumer Litigation Funding at the Bargaining Table, 68 Vand. L. Rev. 261, 262 (2015) (listing only “plaintiffs, defendants, the parties’ attorneys, and defendants’ insurers” as the “variety of sources” that have traditionally financed litigation); Steinitz, supra note 5, at 1088–91 (focusing on situations where the third-party financier is primarily concerned about the strength of the legal claim and not debt or equity finance).

Moreover, the emphasis on the litigation effects of litigation finance has also led to the near-exclusive study of litigation finance as a tool to finance the fees and costs of litigation. But, as explained above, that is only half the story: companies also use litigation finance to raise working capital that can be used to support non-litigation business needs like hiring employees.68See supra notes 42–48 and accompanying text. And because money is fungible, “fees and costs” funding also frees up other capital for managers to reinvest in a company’s core market pursuits.69See supra notes 49–52 and accompanying text. Scholars sometimes mention in passing that funding can be used to raise working capital, but the market impact of funding’s role as a source of general business capital has not been analyzed.70Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 588 (emphasizing that distressed companies can obtain working capital but not exploring the theme in detail); Steinitz, supra note 5, at 1102 (same); Wendel, supra note 51, at 14 (same).

The existing scholarship about litigation finance is insightful and important—but it tells only half the story. To fully understand litigation finance, we must study its implications not just for litigation but also for finance—its implications for competition not only in the courtroom but also in the market square.

C. The Policy Debate

Alongside this scholarship stands a four-front policy debate about litigation finance. This policy debate tracks the scholarship by focusing on

funding’s impact on the civil justice system while ignoring its impact on the marketplace.

First, opponents of litigation finance are asking federal and state legislative bodies to enact regulations of litigation finance.71For a recent compendium of state laws regulating litigation finance, see U.S. Gov’t Accountability Off., GAO-23-105210, Third-Party Litigation Financing: Market Characteristics, Data, and Trends 45. While there are not yet any federal regulations that specifically target litigation funding, several states have acted. The first round of state statutes were essentially consumer protection statutes that targeted consumer litigation finance agreements, that is, agreements that typically concerned smaller-dollar advances to personal injury tort plaintiffs. State regulations in this mold were enacted in Arkansas, Indiana, Nebraska, and Vermont, among other states.72Each state law regulates funding transactions with only real persons. See Ark. Code § 4-57-109(a)(1) (2017); Neb. Rev. Stat. § 25-3302(2) (2010); Ind. Code § 24-12-1-1(7) (2019); Vt. Stat. Ann. tit. 8, § 2251(2) (2019). These consumer-rights statutes require consumer litigation funders to register with the state,73Neb. Rev. Stat. § 25-3307 (2010); Ind. Code. § 24-12-9-1 (2019); Vt. Stat. Ann. tit. 8, § 2252 (2019). provide funded parties with certain disclosures in the litigation finance contract,74Ark. Code § 4-57-109(c) (2017); Neb. Rev. Stat. § 25-3303 (2010); Ind. Code § 24-12-4-1 (2019); Vt. Stat. Ann. tit. 8, § 2253 (2019). and sometimes limit the interest rates funders can charge customers.75Ark. Code § 4-57-109(b)(1) (2017); Neb. Rev. Stat. § 25-3305 (2010); Ind. Code § 24-12-4.5-2 (2019). With respect to disclosure during litigation, those older regulations state that litigation funding documents are protected by the attorney-client privilege, thus making it harder for defendants to obtain information on a plaintiff’s funding agreements.76See, e.g., Neb. Rev. Stat. § 25-3306 (2010); Vt. Stat. Ann. tit. 8, § 2255 (2019). Indiana’s statute initially contained only this same language providing that communications with funders do not waive the protections of the work product doctrine or the attorney-client privilege. Ind. Code § 24-12-8-1 (2019). However, the statute was amended in 2023 to provide for mandatory disclosure of litigation funding agreements to defendants and their insurers. Id. § 24-12-4-2.

More recent “second wave” regulations focus on the commercial rather than consumer sector, and they demand more rather than less disclosure of litigation funding agreements. Emblematic second wave regulations include newly-enacted laws in Indiana77Ind. Code § 24-12-11-1 (2019). and Louisiana78S.B. 196, 2023 Reg. Sess. (La. 2023) [hereinafter Louisiana Statute] https://bit.ly/3y1rtLS [https://perma.cc/B5AY-U7FX]. For news coverage of the Louisiana statute, see Sara Merken, Louisiana law places new rules on litigation funders, Reuters (June 24, 2024, 12:44 PM), https://www.reuters.com/legal/government/louisiana-law-places-new-rules-litigation-funders-2024-06-24 [https://perma.cc/JMY4-63KD]. and a failed bill in Florida.79See S.B. 1276, 2024 Reg. Sess. (Fla. 2024) [hereinafter Florida Bill]. For news coverage of the Florida bill, see Emily R. Siegel, Florida Lawmakers Move to Restrict Litigation Finance Industry, Bloomberg L. (Feb. 7, 2024, 3:17 PM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/business-and-practice/florida-lawmakers-move-to-restrict-litigation-finance-industry [https://perma.cc/G9KV-DH7J]. The United States Chamber of Commerce, a business advocacy group, was a chief proponent of these bills.80Daniel Connolly, U.S. Chamber’s Litigation Funding Concerns Spur 2 State Laws, Law360 (March 20, 2024, 9:05 AM), https://www.law360.com/articles/1812345/us-chamber-s-litigation-funding-concerns-spur-2-state-laws [https://perma.cc/PG4D-KFXX] (attributing recent Indiana and West Virginia statutes to the Chamber’s efforts); Siegel, supra note 79 (reporting that the Chamber of Commerce has supported the Florida bill and similar recent bills); Emily R. Siegel, Louisiana Gov. Gets Bill Regulating Lawsuit Funding Business, Bloomberg L. (May 31, 2024, 9:57 AM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/business-and-practice/louisiana-gov-gets-bill-to-regulate-lawsuit-funding-business [https://perma.cc/G9KV-DH7J] (reporting that the Chamber of Commerce has “led the charge” on the Louisiana statute and similar bills). While earlier consumer litigation funding statutes confirmed enhanced protection for litigation funding documents, the Indiana and Louisiana statutes, and the failed Florida bill, all provide that commercial litigation funding agreements are subject to discovery and disclosure to opposing parties.81See Ind. Code § 24-12-11-5 (2019) (providing that commercial litigation funding agreements are subject to discovery and disclosure); Louisiana Statute, at § 9:3580.3 (requiring disclosure of funding agreements and further stating that “[t]he existence of litigation financing, litigation financing transactions, and all participants in such financing arrangements are permissible subjects of discovery in all civil cases”); Florida Bill, at § 69.107(2) (generally requiring automatic disclosure within 30 days). The statutes also contain other regulations designed to restrict litigation finance. For example, Indiana’s statute prohibits funders from exercising any control or even “influence” over litigation decisions,82Ind. Code Ann. § 24-12-11-4 (2019). while the Louisiana statute requires litigation funders to be responsible for costs imposed on funded litigants83Louisiana Statute, at § 3580.5. and provides that any violation of the statute renders a litigation finance contract unenforceable by the funder.84Id. § 3580.6.

Advocacy groups, like the Chamber of Commerce, have recently argued that litigation funding may present a national security risk. They argue that foreign adversaries may use funding to harm American companies and obtain access to U.S. corporate trade secrets.85Matt Webb, Pulling the Curtain Back on Foreign Influence in Third Party Litigation Funding, U.S. Chamber of Com. (Apr. 2, 2024), https://www.uschamber.com/improving-government/pulling-the-curtain-back-on-foreign-influence-in-third-party-litigation-funding [https://perma.cc/6ZJB-VVJB]. Supporters of litigation funding have pushed back against this narrative, claiming it is a scare tactic without basis in fact.86See, e.g., Adam Mortara, Litigation Finance Doesn’t Pose a Security Threat. That’s a Myth, Bloomberg L. (May 3, 2023, 1:00 AM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/us-law-week/litigation-finance-doesnt-pose-a-security-risk-thats-a-myth [https://perma.cc/8HQS-25WM]. However, in response to these concerns, some states have enacted new laws. Indiana’s new law bans litigation funding from foreign adversaries of the United States, including China, Russia, and North Korea,87Ind. Code Ann. § 24-12-11-2 (2019) (“A commercial litigation financier may not provide funding to a commercial litigation financing agreement that is directly or indirectly financed by a foreign entity of concern.”); see id. § 24-12-11-2(3) (defining a “country of concern” as countries designated as “foreign adversaries” under 15 C.F.R. § 791.4). and Louisiana’s statute requires disclosure of anyone entitled to receive, pursuant to a funding agreement, any information affecting national defense or security disclosed during a litigation.88Louisiana Statute, at § 3580.3(B) (including disclosure requirement regarding information that affects national defense and security).

Second, in addition to the policy fight among legislators, there is a push to have judges themselves enact disclosure rules that target litigation funding.89We do not address here the local rules of many federal courts that generally require disclosure of parties with a financial interest in the case but do not explicitly mention litigation funders. See Memorandum from Patrick A. Tighe, Rules Law Clerk, to Ed Cooper, Dan Coquillette, Rick Marcus & Cathie Struve on Survey of Federal and State Disclosure Rules Regarding Litigation Funding (Feb. 7, 2018), in Advisory Committee on Civil Rules, Agenda Book, at 209 (Apr. 10, 2018). In 2021, the U.S. District Court for the District of New Jersey became the first federal district court to adopt a disclosure rule targeting litigation finance companies’ involvement across all cases.90D.N.J. Civ. Rule 7.1.1 (2021); see Allison Frankel, New Jersey now has a sweeping lit funding disclosure rule. Does it matter?, Reuters (June 23, 2021, 2:36 PM), https://www.reuters.com/legal/transactional/new-jersey-now-has-sweeping-lit-funding-disclosure-rule-does-it-matter-2021-06-23 [https://perma.cc/Y2RG-F2KB]. The U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California had previously enacted a mandatory disclosure rule specifically limited to disclosing litigation finance in class action litigations. See Standing Order for All Judges of the Northern District of California, Contents of Joint Case Management Statement, ¶ 17. Chief Judge Colm Connolly of the U.S. District Court for the District of Delaware has also adopted the rule.91See Colm Connolly, Standing Order Regarding Third-Party Litigation Funding Arrangements (D. Del.), https://bit.ly/4bRdXrS [https://perma.cc/VF4Y-RHDR] [hereinafter Judge Connolly Standing Order]. See generally Dorothy Atkins, Del. Judge Requires 3rd Party Litigation Funding Disclosures, Law360 (Apr. 19, 2022, 8:34 PM), https://www.law360.com/pulse/articles/1485384/del-judge-requires-3rd-party-litigation-funding-disclosures [perma.cc/4SXB-HNRX] (describing Judge Connolly’s Standing Order). This rule requires parties to disclose to the court if any non-party is funding the matter on a non-recourse basis.92D.N.J. Civ. R. 7.1.1(a). If such a funder exists, the litigant must disclose the identity of the funder, “[w]hether the funder’s approval is necessary for litigation decisions or settlement decisions in the action and if the answer is in the affirmative, the nature of the terms and conditions relating to that approval,” and “[a] brief description of the nature of the financial interest.”93Id. The rule also states:

The parties may seek additional discovery of the terms of any such agreement upon a showing of good cause that the non-party has authority to make material litigation decisions or settlement decisions, the interests of parties or the class (if applicable) are not being promoted or protected, or conflicts of interest exist, or such other disclosure is necessary to any issue in the case.94Id. R. 7.1.1(b).

Lawmakers opposed to litigation funding have also asked the Judicial Conference—the judicial branch’s national policymaking body for the federal courts—to investigate whether mandatory disclosure of litigation finance agreements should be required.95See H. Comm. on Oversight & Accountability, 118th Cong., Letter from Chairman James Comer to Chief Justice John Roberts Regarding Third-Party Litigation Funding (Comm. Print 2024), https://bit.ly/46bkRqK [https://perma.cc/643A-MPH6]. In response, the Judicial Conference has formed a working group to study whether the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure should address litigation funding.96See Nate Raymond, U.S. judicial panel to examine litigation finance disclosure, Reuters (Oct. 10, 2024, 2:41 PM), https://www.reuters.com/legal/government/us-judicial-panel-examine-litigation-finance-disclosure-2024-10-10 [https://perma.cc/9XGY-SG5X].

Third, alongside efforts to persuade lawmakers and judges to enact regulations, the practice of litigation funding continues to be tested during litigation. Defendants routinely seek disclosure of litigation funding agreements and communications from plaintiffs.97For a comprehensive review of the current case law, see Charles M. Agee, III, Lucian T. Pera & Chase Haegley, Litigation Funding & Confidentiality: A Comprehensive Analysis of Current Case Law (2023), https://www.westfleetadvisors.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Westfleet-2023-Litigation-Funding-and-Confidentiality.pdf [https://perma.cc/G9FM-89UC]. Most courts reject these attempts, concluding that the communications are either not relevant to the case or protected by the work-product doctrine or attorney-client privilege.98For cases denying discovery requests, see, e.g., Mondis Tech., Ltd. v. LG Elecs., Inc., No. 07-cv-565, 2011 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 47807 (E.D. Tex. May 4, 2011); Devon IT, Inc. v. IBM Corp., No. 10-2899, 2012 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 166749 (E.D. Pa. Sept. 27, 2012); Cabrera v. 1279 Morris LLC, No. 306032/10, 2013 WL 5418611 (N.Y. Sup. Ct. Mar. 7, 2013); Doe v. Soc’y of the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart, No. 11-cv-02518, 2014 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 60799 (N.D. Ill. May 1, 2014); Ashghari-Kamrani v. United Servs. Auto. Ass’n, No. 15-cv-478, 2016 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 197601 (E.D. Va. May 31, 2016). But some courts have allowed some disclosure of litigation funding information, concluding that funding agreements may be relevant to issues including the adequacy of class counsel or the value of the plaintiff’s claim.99For cases granting discovery requests, see, e.g., Leader Techs., Inc. v. Facebook, Inc., 719 F. Supp. 2d 373, 376 (D. Del. 2010); Caryle Inv. Mgmt. L.L.C. v. Moonmouth Co. S.A., No. 7841, 2015 Del. Ch. LEXIS 42 (Del. Ch. Feb. 24, 2015); Charge Injection Techs., Inc. v. E.I. DuPont De Nemours & Co., No. 07C-12-134, 2015 Del. Super. LEXIS 166 (Del. Super. Ct. Mar. 31, 2015); Odyssey Wireless, Inc. v. Samsung Elecs. Co., No. 15-cv-01738-H, 2016 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 188611 (S.D. Cal. Sept. 20, 2016); SecurityPoint Holdings, Inc. v. United States, No. 11-268C, 2019 U.S. Claims LEXIS 341, at *5–6 (Fed. Cl. Apr. 16, 2019). Courts have also addressed related legal questions including whether litigation finance violates prohibitions against champerty100Compare Maslowski v. Prospect Funding Partners LLC, 944 N.W.2d 235, 241 (Minn. 2020) (abolishing Minnesota’s champerty doctrine), with Boling v. Prospect Funding Holdings, LLC, 771 F. App’x 562, 582 (6th Cir. 2019) (holding that a litigation finance transaction violated Kentucky’s champerty law). and whether funders can exercise control over settlement decisions.101Compare In re Pork Antitrust Litig., No. 18-cv-1776, 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 97801, at *4 (D. Minn. June 3, 2024) (refusing to allow Burford to replace Sysco Corporation as a plaintiff in Sysco’s antitrust case against food suppliers because Burford’s underlying agreement with Sysco improperly allowed Burford to exercise settlement control), with In re Broiler Chicken Antitrust Litig., No. 16 C 8637, 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 50303, at *1 (N.D. Ill. Mar. 21, 2024) (allowing substitution under the same facts).

Fourth, bar associations and legal ethics committees are increasingly being asked to decide whether litigation funding agreements violate applicable ethics rules. In 2020, the American Bar Association released a set of “Best Practices” for third-party litigation funding, which addressed topics including the handling of confidential information, the rule against fee sharing, and funding contracts.102A.B.A., Best Practices for Third-Party Litigation Funding, Aug. 3–4, 2020, at 4–5, 12–15, 17–18. In addition, bar association ethics committees have weighed in on topics including whether agreements between funders and law firms violate the rule against lawyers sharing fees with non-lawyers,103See, e.g., Ass’n of the Bar of the City of New York Comm. on Pro. Ethics, Formal Op. 2018-5 (2018) (arguing that non-recourse agreements between funders and lawyers violate the rule against fees sharing). whether litigation counsel should advise clients in the negotiation of litigation funding agreements,104See, e.g., Ass’n of the Bar of the City of New York Comm. on Pro. Ethics, Formal Op. 2024-2 (2024) (offering guidance to lawyers asked to negotiate funding deals for their clients). how lawyers should approach the sharing of confidential information with litigation funders,105See, e.g., Illinois State Bar Ass’n, Op. No. 19-02 (2019). and whether lawyers may refer their clients to litigation funders.106See, e.g., A.B.A. Standing Comm. on Ethics & Pro. Resp., Formal Op. 484 (2018).

On all four fronts, the policy debate has tracked the scholarly debate and suffers the same limitations. That is, the policy debate studies litigation finance solely as a litigation phenomenon, with one side arguing that litigation funding promotes a more level litigation playing field and the other side arguing that funding perverts the civil justice system. A simple illustration: litigation finance is discussed by congressional judiciary committees but wholly ignored by financial services committees.107Litigation finance has been examined by the House Judiciary Committee and the House Committee on Oversight and Accountability, but there have been no hearings on litigation finance by the House Financial Services Committee. See The U.S. Intellectual Property System and the Impact of Litigation Financed by Third-Party Investors and Foreign Entities: Hearing Before the H. Judiciary Subcomm. on Cts., Intell. Prop. & the Internet, 118th Cong. (2024) [hereinafter June 2024 House Hearing]; Unsuitable Litigation: Oversight of Third-Party Litigation Funding: Hearing Before the H. Comm. on Oversight & Accountability, 118th Cong. (2023). One congressional committee debate in June 2024 exemplifies the narrow scope of the debate about funding, with the supporters of funding emphasizing its positive impact on the legal system and the detractors of funding alleging its detrimental effects on civil litigation.108See June 2024 House Hearing (witnesses all discussing litigation finance in terms of its effect on the litigation system and largely ignoring questions about funding’s impact on the capital markets and business competition).

The lobbying groups on either side of the debate similarly focus on the litigation effects of funding. As noted, the Chamber of Commerce is probably the most vocal critic of litigation funding and a driving force behind much of the recent state regulation of funding.109See supra note 80 and accompanying text. The Chamber has issued a number of attacks against litigation funding, and they all focus on funding’s impact on the courtroom, not the marketplace or the capital markets.110For the Chamber’s criticisms of litigation finance, see, e.g., John H. Beisner & Gary A. Rubin, Stopping the Sale on Lawsuits: A Proposal to Regulate Third-Party Investments in Litigation, U.S. Chamber Com. Inst. Legal Reform, Oct. 2012, at 3; Lawyers for Civil Justice & U.S. Chamber of Com., Rules Suggestion to the Advisory Committee on Civil Rules: Amending Rule 16(c)(2) for Third-Party Litigation Funding, at 1 (Sept. 8, 2022), https://bit.ly/3y6L658 [https://perma.cc/46TP-CU9T]; Webb, supra note 85. Indeed, although the Chamber usually supports deregulating the capital markets and expanding small businesses’ access to capital,111See Finance, U.S. Chamber Com., https://www.uschamber.com/finance [https://perma.cc/5X9L-LAQ6] (“Free and efficient financial markets are essential to a diverse and growing economy. . . . To support that system, we need smart regulation that ensures access to capital and credit, enables companies to go public, incentivizes innovation, and provides choice and access for investors while protecting consumers.”); Small Businesses, U.S. Chamber Com., https://www.uschamber.com/work/small-businesses [https://perma.cc/VLB2-V4DL] (“We work every day to fight for policies and regulations that benefit small business, elevate the voice of America’s small business owners, highlight the role they play in the nation’s economy, and support Main Street businesses’ growth and success with tailored resources and expert insights.”). the Chamber has not addressed how litigation finance might impact those goals. Meanwhile, the International Legal Finance Association—the trade association for the litigation finance industry—has likewise articulated the case for litigation funding as fundamentally about access to the courtroom, not access to the capital markets or the business marketplace.112See, e.g., Statement for the Record International Legal Finance Association House Judiciary Subcommittee on Courts, Intellectual Property, and the Internet (June 12, 2024), https://www.congress.gov/118/meeting/house/117421/documents/HHRG-118-JU03-20240612-SD004.pdf [https://perma.cc/KSB6-RR2C] (focusing on litigation effects, not capital market impact); Statement for the Record International Legal Finance Association United States House of Representatives Committee on Oversight and Accountability (Sept. 13, 2023), https://www.congress.gov/118/meeting/house/116346/documents/HHRG-118-GO00-20230913-SD016.pdf [https://perma.cc/6N5N-YWA9] (making the case for litigation finance by emphasizing funding’s salutary impact on the civil justice system).

*   *   *   *   *

Existing scholarship and policy debates discuss funding’s impact on litigation but largely ignore its effect on finance and business strategy. When we reframe the debate about litigation finance around business strategy, we pave new paths to study litigation finance, its use cases, and its impact on society. These are questions that have not simply gone unanswered—they have gone unasked.

II. Nonmarket Strategies: A Primer

We explained in Part I that scholars and policymakers have largely overlooked litigation finance’s implications for corporate finance and business strategy. We believe this has happened in part because legal scholars lack a widely adopted framework for analyzing how companies strategically engage with litigation. In Part II, we provide that framework by drawing on a robust body of literature in business academia concerning “nonmarket strategies.” While business scholars pay great attention to nonmarket strategies, legal scholarship has almost entirely ignored the topic, despite its intimate connection to not only litigation finance specifically but also litigation more generally.113For some of the few instances of legal scholarship briefly invoking the concept of nonmarket strategies, see supra note 7. In this section, we define and describe nonmarket strategies, identify different forms of nonmarket strategies, and discuss why companies use these nonmarket strategies.114As we will argue, nonmarket strategies focus on engaging with the nonmarket and, in our case, engaging with the court system. We note that the line between what constitutes a market versus nonmarket strategy is sometimes blurry, and some scholars might characterize a strategy as one or the other. We think most if not all scholars would agree that litigation finance as we have construed it is a nonmarket strategy. But our overall argument does not depend on whether the strategies we highlight below are market or nonmarket ones. The key insight is that litigation finance is a form of strategy and should be analyzed and treated as a business practice, not just a legal one. So, our ultimate conclusions on how to regulate litigation finance are not tied specifically to the nonmarket strategy framework. We just argue that the framework is helpful to catalogue the ways in which litigation finance is used to strategically.

A. What Are Nonmarket Strategies?

Companies seek to maximize value for their shareholders and other stakeholders. This theme resonates in legal, ethics, and business scholarship115Most legal and financial scholarship adopt the view that companies seek to maximize shareholder value. See, e.g., D. Gordon Smith, The Shareholder Primacy Norm, 23 J. Corp. L. 277, 278 (1998); Lucian A. Bebchuk & Roberto Tallarita, The Illusory Promise of Stakeholder Governance, 106 Cornell L. Rev. 91, 176–77 (2020); Jill E. Fisch, Measuring Efficiency in Corporate Law: The Role of Shareholder Primacy, 31 J. Corp. L. 637, 673–74 (2006); Lynn A. Stout, Bad and Not-so-Bad Arguments for Shareholder Primacy, 75 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1189, 1192–93 (2002). Other scholars also argue that companies should (and are) maximizing stakeholder value, with shareholders as one of several potential stakeholders. See, e.g., R. Edward Freeman, Strategic Management: A Stakeholder Approach (2010); Lynn Stout, The Shareholder Value Myth: How Putting Shareholders First Harms Investors, Corporations, and the Public (2012); William Savitt & Aneil Kovvali, On the Promise of Stakeholder Governance: A Response to Bebchuk and Tallarita, 106 Cornell. L. Rev. 1881, 1894–95 (2021). The actions a company takes to maximize value are called strategies.116Strategy scholarship is vast and covers many decisions a company makes. For a selection of business strategy scholarship, see Michael Porter, Competitive Strategy, 1 Measuring Bus. Excellence 12, 12–17 (1997); Michael Porter, Towards a Dynamic Theory of Strategy, 12 Strat. Mgmt. J. 95, 95 (1991); Jay B. Barney, Types of Competition and the Theory of Strategy: Toward an Integrative Framework, 11 Acad. Mgmt. Rev. 791, 791 (1986). T. Russell Crook, David J. Ketchen Jr., James G. Combs & Samuel Y. Todd, Strategic Resources and Performance: A Meta‐Analysis, 29 Strat. Mgmt. J., 1141, 1141–54 (2008); Colin Campbell‐Hunt, What Have We Learned About Generic Competitive Strategy? A Meta‐Analysis, 21 Strat. Mgmt. J. 127, 127 (2000).

Business research has long focused on how companies use the marketplace in which they operate to extract and maximize value. These behaviors are considered market strategies.117David P. Baron, Integrated Strategy: Market and Nonmarket Components, 37 Cal. Mgmt. Rev. 47, 47 (1995); see also Michael E. Porter, Competitive Strategy: Techniques for Analyzing Industries and Competitors (1980); Michael E. Porter, Competitive Advantage: Creating and Sustaining Superior Performance (1985); Sharon M. Oster, Modern Competitive Analysis (1990). Market strategies are “a concerted pattern of actions taken in the market environment to create value by improving economic performance.”118Baron, supra note 117, at 47. The key element here is the use of the private market environment, which “includes those interactions between the firm and other parties that are intermediated by markets or private agreements. These interactions typically are voluntary and involve economic transactions and the exchange of property.”119Id. When companies operate with market strategies, they perform business activities like producing goods, hiring workers, contracting with counterparties, and engaging in mergers and acquisitions.

Recall the weather balloon company we discussed earlier. That company surely engaged in a host of market strategies to grow. These market strategies might include offering competitive wages to attract talented employees, conducting research and development into new technologies, entering into joint ventures and other strategic partnerships with other companies, contracting with suppliers, and marketing products. Each of these behaviors relies on private commercial markets, including the markets for labor, supplies, and customers.

The rise of institutional economics has drawn attention to strategic behavior beyond the market environment.120See Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 115 (arguing that “the diverse activities under the umbrella of nonmarket strategy reflect different ways of addressing institutional contexts that make transactions costly (or impossible) to undertake through the market”). Business scholars have increasingly recognized that, in addition to traditional “market strategies,” companies also engage in strategies that use the “nonmarket.”121Nonmarket strategies are a growing area of business scholarship. For a selection of articles discussing nonmarket strategies, see The Nonmarket Strategy System, supra note 6, at 73–85; David Bach & David Bruce Allen, What Every CEO Needs to Know About Nonmarket Strategy, 51 MIT Sloan Mgmt. Rev. 41 (2010); Strategic Activism, supra note 6, at 599–602; Jonathan P. Doh, Tazeeb Rajwani & Thomas Lawton, Advancing Nonmarket Strategy Research: Institutional Perspectives in a Changing World, 26 Acad. Mgmt. Persp. 22, 22–39 (2012); Jean-Philippe Bonardi & Richard G. Vanden Bergh, Nonmarket Strategy Performance: Evidence from U.S. Electric Utilities, 49 Acad. Mgmt. J. 1209, 1209–10 (2006). The nonmarket environment “includes those interactions that are intermediated by the public, stakeholders, government, the media, and public institutions. These institutions differ from those of the market environment because of characteristics such as majority rule, due process, broad enfranchisement, collective action, and publicness.”122Baron, supra note 117, at 47. The nonmarket environment includes the courts, the lawmaking process, interest group activities, and social and cultural institutions.123Id. at 48.

A nonmarket strategy, then, is a set of actions that utilizes the nonmarket environment to drive economic value.124Id. These institutions create the “rules of the game” for competition in the marketplace.125North describes them as “the rules of the game in a society or, more formally, . . . the humanly devised constraints that shape human interaction.” Douglas C. North, Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic Performance 3 (1990). Companies engage in nonmarket strategies when they leverage nonmarket institutions (for example, courts) to compete more effectively in the marketplace.126Although most scholars would agree with our definition of nonmarket strategies, we note there are many different ways that the concept is discussed in the literature. See Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 117 (describing nonmarket strategies as “strategies that firms use to address high institutional costs of using the market, i.e., to create and appropriate value from transactions that are costly to undertake through the market on account of the weakness of the existing institutional environment”). They draw this definition from Chris Marquis & Mia Raynard, Institutional Strategies in Emerging Markets, 9 Acad. of Mgmt. Annals 291, 294–96 (2015). Still others define nonmarket strategies as a “firm’s concerted pattern of actions to improve its performance by managing the institutional or societal context of economic competition.” Mellahi et al., supra note 6, at 144.

Our weather balloon company is likely to pursue a host of nonmarket strategies alongside more traditional market strategies. For example, it might lobby lawmakers for subsidies, sue companies engaging in anticompetitive behavior, or challenge government regulations adverse to its business interests.

B. The Types of Nonmarket Strategies

Business scholars have identified three types of nonmarket strategies that firms might pursue: adaptive strategies, transformative strategies, and additive strategies.127We draw here from Dorobantu et al., supra note 6. We discuss each in turn.

  1. Adaptive Strategies

Adaptive strategies are nonmarket strategies that take the state of existing institutional nonmarkets as a given and attempt to either leverage or circumvent those nonmarket institutions to the actor’s advantage.128Adaptive approaches occur when “firms accept the institutional environment as given, and use governance forms other than the market to create and appropriate value within the confines of existing institutions.” Id. at 118. One common example is the use of litigation by a company to attack the market position of a direct or indirect competitor.

The Lanham Act is a common locus of adaptive nonmarket strategies, as it provides companies with a cause of action to sue a direct or indirect competitor for false advertising.12915 U.S.C. § 1125 (2000); see Diane Taing, Competition for Standing: Defining the Commercial Plaintiff Under Section 43(a) of the Lanham Act, 16 Geo. Mason L. Rev. 493, 494 (2009) (“Section 43(a) of the Lanham Act, 15 U.S.C.A. § 1125, allows a plaintiff to bring a false advertising claim against a defendant who has undertaken deceptive activity.”). One leading Lanham Act case involved Johnson & Johnson’s false advertising suit against Procter & Gamble concerning over-the-counter (“OTC”) heartburn medication.130See Johnson & Johnson-Merck Consumer Pharms. Co. v. Procter & Gamble Co., 285 F. Supp. 2d 389, 391 (S.D.N.Y. 2003), aff’d, 90 Fed. App’x 8 (2d Cir. 2003). In 2003, Procter & Gamble launched the OTC heartburn drug Prilosec OTC, which was poised to compete with Johnson & Johnson’s incumbent Pepcid offering.131See Sarah Ellison, P&G to Appeal Prilosec Ad Ruling, Wall St. J. (Sept. 23, 2003, 12:01 AM), https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB106427514666622000 [https://perma.cc/PWK3-S7PT]. Procter & Gamble’s marketing campaign suggested that one pill of Prilosec OTC would provide twenty-four hours of heartburn relief.132See Johnson & Johnson-Merck Consumer Pharms., 285 F. Supp. 2d at 391. Johnson & Johnson challenged this statement as false advertising, because the pill took up to five hours to start working.133Id. A federal district court agreed with Johnson & Johnson and granted a preliminary injunction against the advertising campaign, ruling that Procter & Gamble’s advertisements were “literally false and certainly convey[ed] a false message.”134Id.

Johnson & Johnson’s litigation may be described as an adaptive nonmarket strategy because, rather than competing through the market system (for example, by using comparative advertising, a well-studied and researched marketing strategy135For detailed discussions of comparative advertising, see, e.g., Jerry B. Gotlieb & Dan Sarel, Comparative Advertising Effectiveness: The Role of Involvement and Source Credibility, 20 J. Advert. 38, 38–45 (1991); Gorn J. Gerald & Charles B. Weinberg, The Impact of Comparative Advertising on Perception and Attitude: Some Positive Findings, 11 J. Con. Rsch. 719, 719–27 (1984); Cornelia Pechmann & David W. Stewart, The Effects of Comparative Advertising on Attention, Memory, and Purchase Intentions, 17 J. Con. Rsch. 180, 180– 91 (1990).), the company used existing legal institutions—specifically, the court system and liability rules—to gain market share from Procter & Gamble. Lawsuits like these help the plaintiff firm extract economic value from the marketplace, regardless of whether the competitor suit is welfare-enhancing for consumers.136For the view that competitor false advertising cases detract from consumer welfare, see Lillian R. BeVier, Competitor Suits for False Advertising Under Section 43(a) of the Lanham Act: A Puzzle in the Law of Deception, 78 Va. L. Rev. 1, 2 (1992).

  1. Transformative Strategies

Companies may also engage in transformative nonmarket strategies, which are strategies that seek to alter a nonmarket institution that impacts the company.137Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 123–25. In these cases, companies seek to lobby politicians, regulators, and courts to transform the rules of the game.138As noted in supra note 8, public choice theory provides one perspective on how interest groups like businesses engage with the policy process. While public choice theory speaks to this aspect of transformative nonmarket strategies, it does not address the waterfront of issues captured by the integrated nonmarket strategy approach, including how companies might treat legal claims as assets for strategic business purposes (discussed supra Part II.B.1) or how companies might engage in self-regulation (discussed infra Part II.B.2).

Lobbying is a classic example of a transformative nonmarket strategy. Ample work has examined the nature of lobbying as it relates to political processes and the law.139Some examples of legal scholarship on lobbying include Nicholas W. Allard, Lobbying is an Honorable Profession: The Right to Petition and the Competition to Be Right, 19 Stan. L. & Pol’y Rev. 23, 24 (2008) (“[M]ore remarkable than the persistent image in the public consciousness of corrupt influence peddlers, is that today, while trust of professional lobbyists is particularly low, the number of lobbyists and the level of lobbying activity continues to rise.”); Melissa J. Durkee, International Lobbying Law, 127 Yale L.J. 1742, 1746–52 (2018) (arguing that lobbying is captured by private corporate interests); Richard L. Hasen, Lobbying, Rent-Seeking, and the Constitution, 64 Stan. L. Rev. 191, 193–99 (2012) (providing an economic welfare rationale for the regulation of lobbying); Maggie McKinley, Lobbying and the Petition Clause, 68 Stan. L. Rev. 1131, 1199 (2016) (arguing that lobbying violates the Petition Clause). When companies lobby, their goal is frequently to have lawmakers (re)write the rules of the game in their favor.140Some examples of management and business scholarship on lobbying include John M. de Figueiredo & Emerson H. Tiller, The Structure and Conduct of Corporate Lobbying: How Firms Lobby the Federal Communications Commission, 10 J. Econ. & Mgmt. Strat. 91, 92–93 (2001) (showing that transaction cost theories and collective action predict corporate lobbying strategies); Michael Hadani & Douglas A. Schuler, In Search of El Dorado: The Elusive Financial Returns on Corporate Political Investments, 34 Strat. Mgmt. J. 165, 165–66 (2013) (showing that most corporate political investments do not enhance firm value, except when the firm operates in a highly regulated industry); Amy J. Hillman & Michael A. Hitt, Corporate Political Strategy Formulation: A Model of Approach, Participation, and Strategy Decisions, 24 Acad. Mgmt. Rev. 825, 825 (1999) (designing a model of firm corporate political activity strategy). For example, when the federal government responds to lobbying efforts by granting tax subsidies that offset the cost of installing electric vehicle chargers, the government effectively reduces the purchase price of electric vehicles. This gives electric vehicle manufacturers, like Tesla, a competitive leg up over manufactures of more traditional gas-powered vehicles.141See Madeleine Ngo, Electric Vehicle Charging Tax Credits Will Be Available in Much of Country, N.Y. Times (Jan. 19, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/19/us/politics/electric-vehicle-chargers-tax-credits.html [https://perma.cc/6CRH-ZUBK].

Transformative nonmarket strategies may also be directed toward the civil justice system. A company sometimes lobbies lawmakers to change court rules to favor itself. One recent example is illustrative: after Apple lost two prominent patent cases before the U.S. International Trade Commission (“ITC”), the company asked Congress to change the rules governing how the ITC adjudicates complaints and enforces penalties.142See Tripp Mickle, Apple Keeps Losing Patent Cases. Its Solution: Rewrite the Rules, N.Y. Times (Mar. 19, 2024), https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/19/technology/apple-patents-lobbying.html [https://perma.cc/B8L4-66ZS]. These rules, if adopted, would make it more difficult for parties to prevail in ITC suits against Apple, giving the company a competitive advantage in the marketplace.143Id.

Litigation can also be a form of transformative nonmarket strategy. We discussed above how litigation functions as an adaptive nonmarket strategy when a company uses it to enforce existing rules against competitors. By contrast, litigation is used as a transformative nonmarket strategy when companies bring court challenges to government regulations that impair their business efforts. From one perspective, these litigations simply ask courts to affirm that an inferior law must give way to a supreme law.144See U.S. Const. art. VI, cl. 2. From another perspective, however, these litigations are nonmarket strategies that ask courts to transform the legal “nonmarket” environment in which firms operate.

For a recent example of litigation as a transformative nonmarket strategy, consider the Chamber of Commerce’s lawsuit challenging the Federal Trade Commission’s rule banning non-compete agreements between employers and employees.145See Complaint for Declaratory & Injunctive Relief, Chamber of Com. of the U.S. of Am. v. Fed. Trade Comm’n, No. 24-cv-00148 (E.D. Tex. Apr. 24, 2024) [hereinafter Chamber v. FTC Complaint]. Although the Chamber does not disclose its individual donors, the Chamber is financed by corporations and engages in strategic litigation on their behalf.146Zach Brown, The Interests of the Few: How the Chamber’s Lopsided Donor Base Mirrors Its Advocacy 3 (Public Citizen, 2023), https://www.citizen.org/article/the-interests-of-the-few [https://perma.cc/L2CK-UMDJ] (explaining that the Chamber does not disclose the identifies of donors and “has been one of the leading opponents of proposal to require disclosure of donors to groups that engage in political activities”); Brian Schwartz, Chamber of Commerce gets nearly half its funding from those who give at least $1 million, CNBC (Apr. 26, 2023, 10:00 AM), https://www.cnbc.com/2023/04/26/chamber-of-commerce-millionaire-donors.html [https://perma.cc/7DM3-2TKL]. To satisfy standing requirements, the Chamber invokes the associational standing doctrine, which allows the Chamber to vindicate its members’ interests.147See Chamber v. FTC Complaint, at ¶ 24 (“The U.S. Chamber has numerous members who use noncompete agreements for entirely legitimate purposes and will be adversely affected by the Noncompete Rule.”); Chamber of Com. of U.S. v. Edmondson, 594 F.3d 742, 759 (10th Cir. 2010) (holding that the U.S. Chamber of Commerce and affiliated chambers have associational standing to challenge an Oklahoma law governing employee verification). The Chamber’s challenge to the rule against non-competes is a transformative nonmarket strategy because it seeks to use the nonmarket environment of courts to create a market environment in which companies have greater leverage over their employees, giving them a potential competitive advantage in the marketplace.

Thus, litigation can be used as part of both adaptive and transformative nonmarket strategies. The distinction between the two generally tracks the distinction between the enforcement of “private law” and “public law.”148Rachel Bayefsky, Public-Law Litigation at a Crossroads: Article III Standing and “Tester” Plaintiffs, 99 N.Y.U. L. Rev. Online 128, 132–33 (2024) (describing the difference between public and private law litigation); Randy E. Barnett, Foreword: Four Senses of the Public Law-Private Law Distinction, 9 Harv. J.L. & Pub. Pol’y 267, 267 (1986) (offering a typology of the public law-private law distinction). “Private law” refers to litigation that ordinarily occurs between private individuals or companies.149Abram Chayes, The Role of the Judge in Public Law Litigation, 89 Harv. L. Rev. 1281, 1282 (1976). As Abram Chayes has explained, private law litigation is typically retrospective—that is, it involves a controversy over an “identified set of completed events” and in which the right and remedy are interdependent. The typical remedy is “that the plaintiff will get compensation”—money damages—“measured by the harm caused by the defendant’s breach of duty.”150Id. Adaptive nonmarket strategies typically take this form, with one company litigating a private law claim against another company.

Transformative nonmarket strategies typically involve litigation over the validity of laws and regulations themselves. In such cases, the defendant is usually a governmental body and the primary relief sought is almost always declaratory or injunctive, not retrospective damages. Companies usually engage in public law litigation as part of a transformative strategy to require or prevent the enforcement of laws on issues of public concern—such as civil rights, environmental law, or administrative law.151Justin P. Gunter, Dual Standards for Third-Party Intervenors: Distinguishing Between Public-Law and Private-Law Intervention, 66 Vand. L. Rev. 645, 648–49 (2013).

  1. Additive Strategies

Additive nonmarket strategies work “by supplementing [existing institutional] structures with new, decentralized ones to which participants commit voluntarily rather than in response to a mandate from the state, thus creating a polycentric institutional structure.”152See Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 121; see also Paul Ingram & Karen Clay, The Choice-Within-Constraints New Institutionalism and Implications for Sociology, 26 Ann. Rev. Socio. 525, 536–37 (2000); Andrew A. King, Michael J. Lenox & Ann Terlaak, The Strategic Use of Decentralized Institutions: Exploring Certification with the ISO 14001 Management Standard, 48 Acad. Mgmt. J. 1091, 1091–92 (2005). Rather than simply take the institutions as a given, companies seek to augment institutional structures to give themselves a competitive advantage.153Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 121–22.

In one common additive strategy, companies engage in self-regulation, either acting alone or in concert with competitors. For example, companies may band together into an industry trade association and sign on to certain “standards of conduct,”154Id. at 121; see also Michael J. Barnett & Andrew A. King, Good Fences Make Good Neighbors: A Longitudinal Analysis of an Industry Self-Regulatory Institution, 51 Acad. Mgmt. J. 1150, 1164 (2008). or they may all agree to certain voluntary business practices.155See Erin M. Reid & Michael W. Toffel, Responding to Public and Private Politics: Corporate Disclosure of Climate Change Strategies, 30 Strat. Mgmt. J. 1157, 1162 (2009); see also Pratima Bansal, Evolving Sustainably: A Longitudinal Study of Corporate Sustainable Development, 26 Strat. Mgmt. J. 197, 202 (2005) (describing how mimicry of firms is a motivator for voluntary sustainable actions). When acting alone, companies may act solely to reduce a perceived negative externality with the hope of setting an industry norm, resulting in benefits to the firm.156Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 122 (explaining that firms “adopt proactive strategies and visibly commit to the provision (abatement) of a positive (negative) externality, in the hope that they will be rewarded for establishing a norm of better behavior, either by those who benefit from their actions directly, or from those who value responsible behavior more generally”). Traditional corporate social responsibility (“CSR”) behaviors also fall into this nonmarket strategy.157The literature on CSR is vast and intersects law, ethics, marketing, finance, and management scholarship. For a detailed discussion of CSR and nonmarket strategies in the management context, see Mellahi et al., supra note 6. CSR strategies include, for example, voluntary environmental and socially-sustainable practices.158Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 122. Companies frequently undertake these behaviors with the hope that stakeholders will reward the company and hence further enhance the firm’s economic value. But additive strategies also seek to anticipate or influence institutional changes. Companies may voluntarily take costly behaviors in anticipation that regulators will eventually enact rules of conduct that the firm has already adopted, leaving the firm better positioned to succeed in the market.159See Adam R. Fremeth & J. Myles Shaver, Strategic Rationale for Responding to Extra-Jurisdictional Regulation: Evidence from Firm Adoption of Renewable Power in the US, 35 Strat. Mgmt. J. 629, 630 (2014).

C. The Choice Among Nonmarket Strategies

Not all strategies are created equal. Companies consider a range of internal and external factors when deciding whether and how to use nonmarket strategies.

External factors include the nature of both market and nonmarket institutions.160Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 125–26. Some jurisdictions, including the United States, have clear laws and regulations that allow for relative predictability in outcome.161Id. Other jurisdictions, including many developing countries, may have no laws, or either unclear or incomplete laws, governing business conduct.162Id. Whether an institution is relatively “complete” or “captured” (as in the United States) or relatively “incomplete” (as in many developing countries)163Dorobantu et al. use the terms “incomplete” or “captured” with the term “captured,” referring to situations in which “robust rules and structures exist but have been captured by a narrow set of elite interests.” Id. at 125. influences which type of nonmarket behavior a company may engage in.

Internal factors also affect which strategies a company may use. For example, some companies may develop a comparative advantage in implementing certain nonmarket strategies over others.164The seminal work on dynamic capabilities is Jay Barney, Firm Resources and Sustained Competitive Advantage 17 J. Mgmt. 99, 99 (1991). These so-called firm-specific capabilities drive which nonmarket strategies firms pursue.165Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 128 (“[F]irms with strong capabilities may prefer to pursue nonmarket strategies independently so as to enhance their competitive advantage.”). Research on firm-specific capabilities analyzes a company’s unique strengths and asks what strategies the company may use to leverage these unique strengths.166The literature on firm specific capabilities is incredibly vast. Some seminal examples include Shantanu Dutta, Om Narasimhan & Surendra Rajiv, Conceptualizing and Measuring Capabilities: Methodology and Empirical Application, 26 Strat. Mgmt. J. 277, 277–85 (2004); Jeffrey H. Dyer & Nile W. Hatch, Relation-Specific Capabilities and Barriers to Knowledge Transfers: Creating Advantage Through Network Relationships, 27 Strat. Mgmt. J. 701, 701–19 (2006); Jay B. Barney, David J. Ketchen Jr. & Mike Wright, The Future of Resource-Based Theory: Revitalization or Decline?, 37 J. Mgmt. 1299, 1299–1315 (2011); Jay B. Barney & Delwyn N. Clark, Resource-Based theory: Creating and Sustaining Competitive Advantage 130–33 (2007). The goal is to create sustained, long-term competitive advantages in the marketplace.

Consider, for example, a company that can recruit former politicians into its ranks.167Many companies place former politicians on their boards to maximize lobbying success. See Amy J. Hillman, Politicians on the Board of Directors: Do Connections Affect the Bottom Line?, 31 J. Mgmt. 464, 477–78 (2005) (showing that firms that have politicians on boards have higher returns in comparison to those that do not have politicians on boards). Relative to its competitors, that company has a comparative advantage in transforming the institutional rules in which it operates. The firm’s political connections provide it with superior insight into how certain regulations will be interpreted and implemented. These capabilities may also

give the firm a comparative advantage in influencing which regulations are made or unmade. Such a firm is more likely to use transformative strategies, as it has unique capabilities to influence regulations.168See Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 128–29.

A firm’s capabilities will also help predict whether a company will use a market or a nonmarket strategy in the first place.169Id. Certain companies, as we describe using examples below, can more cheaply and efficiently engage in nonmarket strategies in comparison to more traditional market ones. As we argue, SMEs may find it cheaper to engage in capital funding using nonmarket strategies than market ones.

III.  Litigation Finance as a Nonmarket Strategy

Litigation finance is an important development not only for the civil justice system but also for the capital markets and marketplace at large. Companies use litigation finance to compete not only in the courthouse but also in the market square. Drawing upon the nonmarket strategy literature discussed above, we illustrate three ways companies engage with litigation finance to help themselves better compete in the marketplace.

The chart below provides a roadmap for our discussion. This chart indicates the types of strategies, the result each strategy seeks to achieve, an example of the strategy, and the business benefit the strategy creates. We also note that some of these strategies involve the use of litigation finance while others involve the regulation of funding.

A. Litigation Finance as Corporate Finance: An Adaptive Strategy

The best things in life may be free, but everything else costs money. Corporate finance is the discipline that studies how companies finance their business pursuits.170Peter H. Huang & Michael S. Knoll, Corporate Finance, Corporate Law and Finance Theory, 74 S. Cal. L. Rev. 175, 176 (2000). We first provide a brief overview of the traditional ways companies finance their activities. We then demonstrate how litigation finance operates as an alternative “nonmarket” way to access investment capital and finance business pursuits, including but not limited to the financing of litigation. Using litigation finance in the way we describe below is a type of adaptative nonmarket strategy.

  1. “Market” Methods of Corporate Finance

Companies need money to pursue the waterfront of legitimate corporate activities, including hiring employees, manufacturing products, marketing their goods, investing in research and development, and yes, sometimes pursuing litigation. Firms use one of three broad categories of finance: retained earnings, equity, and debt.171William R. White, Note, The Tobin Tax: A Solution to Today’s International Monetary Instability?, 1999 Colum. Bus. L. Rev. 365, 385 (1999) (identifying “the different methods employed by firms in financing their investment programs” as fitting within “three main types: equity financing, debt financing, and internally-generated funds derived from retained earnings”). All three involve the company appealing to traditional market institutions: the marketplace for goods and services to obtain revenue that can then be used to finance future business activities, or the capital markets, in which third parties provide debt or equity capital in exchange for an anticipated return on their investment.172Baron, supra note 117; Channing E. Brackey, Choices of Capital: Reducing Their Impact on Taxpayers and the Government, 22 Seton Hall L. Rev. 320, 320 (1992).

Recall the weather balloon company that needs $15 million in financing, including $5 million to pursue litigation and $10 million for research and development. To come up with the cash, first, the company could use its retained earnings, that is, profits or revenue in excess of expenses.173Nathan R. Long, Community Characterization of the Increased Value of Separately Owned Businesses, 32 Idaho L. Rev. 731, 739 (1996). Second, the company might raise debt from third parties. These loans can be either unsecured or secured.174See Mann, supra note 23, at 630 (identifying secured and unsecured debt as the two forms of debt financing and exploring how firms choose between the two); Ronald J. Mann, The Role of Secured Credit in Small-Business Lending, 86 Geo. L.J. 1, 4 (1997) (same). Unsecured loans rely on the borrower’s creditworthiness and future cash flows.175Mann, supra note 23, at 660 (“In an unsecured transaction, creditors focus on the creditworthiness of the borrower as a whole.”). Secured loans are backed by company assets.176Id. Secured loans may be further categorized: some are secured by all company assets, while others are “asset-based” loans secured by only a specific subset of the company’s assets.177Claire A. Hill, Essay, Is Secured Debt Efficient?, 80 Tex. L. Rev. 1117, 1118 (2002). In one common form of secured loan, a firm pledges its receivables to a lender; the lender may even have the right to be directly paid all collections on the receivables until the loan is repaid. Id. at 1129; see also Jon S. Robins, David E. Wallace & Mark Franke, Mezzanine Finance and Preferred Equity Investment in Commercial Real Estate: Security, Collateral & Control, 1 Mich. J. Priv. Equity & Venture Cap. L. 93, 143 (2012) (explaining that sometimes “a creditor has recourse limited to a specified security interest in property of the company”). Third, the company might raise equity financing, selling ownership interests in the firm in exchange for capital.178William C. Philbrick, The Paving of Wall Street in Eastern Europe: Establishing the Legal Infrastructure for Stock Markets in the Formerly Centrally Planned Economies, 25 L. & Pol’y Int’l Bus. 565, 566 n.6 (1994).

Several points bear emphasis. First, both debt and equity financing usually involve companies raising capital from third party investors.179Creditors hold “fixed claims to the corporation’s assets,” while shareholders are “residual owners” of the company. Rutheford B. Campbell, Jr. & Christopher W. Frost, Managers’ Fiduciary Duties in Financially Distressed Corporations: Chaos in Delaware (and Elsewhere), 32 J. Corp. L. 491, 492 (2007). Creditors remain third parties after the transaction is consummated; that is, they do not become first-party owners of the company.180J. Brad Bernthal, The Evolution of Entrepreneurial Finance: A New Typology, 2018 B.Y.U. L. Rev. 773, 822 n.211 (2018) (“Capital providers that do not qualify as corporate shareholders are deemed creditors or another contract-specific holder.”). The tension between the interests of third-party creditors and first-party equity-holders is a subject of significant scholarly attention. See generally Colin Mayer, Response, How to Avoid Implementing Today’s Wrong Policies to Solve Yesterday’s Corporate Governance Problems, 161 U. Pa. L. Rev. 1989, 1995–96 (2013). Equity investors, by contrast, are third parties relative to the company before making their investment and come inside the company as first-party owners after the transaction is consummated. Thus, if a firm like our weather balloon company needs capital to fund litigation and research, there is a good chance it would approach the capital markets and raise capital from third-party investors, with those investors expecting their return to come from some or all of the firm’s assets.181Virtually all companies rely at some point on third-party debt and equity capital. See Bernthal, supra note 180, at 773.

Second, a firm’s choice between using retained earnings, debt, and equity to finance business endeavors is typically driven by questions of corporate finance and business strategy. Classical corporate finance theory teaches that, in perfect markets without transaction costs, firms should be indifferent between using retained earnings, debt, and equity.182The Modigliani-Miller theorem states that the choice between debt and equity should have no effect on the value of the firm, assuming no market frictions or inefficiencies. See, e.g., Franco Modigliani & Merton H. Miller, The Cost of Capital, Corporation Finance and the Theory of Investment, 48 Am. Econ. Rev., 261, 261 (1958). The theorem teaches, for example, that a company’s source for financing its earnings, “whether internally from retained earnings or externally from debt or new equity, should not matter.” Ezra Wasserman Mitchell, Finance and Growth: The Legal and Regulatory Implications of the Role of the Public Equity Market in the United States, 6 Mich. Bus. & Entrepreneurial L. Rev. 155, 170 (2017). In reality, markets are not perfect and firms are not indifferent.183The Modigliani-Miller theorem “applies only to perfectly competitive financial markets without transaction costs. As a result, it comes with the same caveats as the Coase theorem. That is, although theorizing a world of perfect, costless capital markets is informative, corporate finance policy choices must be considered in the context of the real world, where transaction costs are never free.” Herbert Hovenkamp, Neoclassicism and the Separation of Ownership and Control, 4 Va. L. & Bus. Rev. 373, 395–96 (2009). Scholars thus often study the situations in which the Modigliani-Miller assumptions fail, in what is sometimes called the “reverse” Modigliani-Miller theorem. Michael S. Knoll & Daniel M. G. Raff, Response, A Comprehensive Theory of Deal Structure: Understanding How Transactional Structure Creates Value, 89 Tex. L. Rev. 35, 37 (2011). There is an entire discipline—corporate finance—devoted to studying firms’ decisions about how to finance their business activities.

A corporate finance literature review is beyond the scope of this Article. It is sufficient for present purposes to identify a few tradeoffs that companies face when deciding whether to finance their business activities through retained earnings, debt, or equity.184For a particularly insightful overview of the various tradeoffs firms face when deciding how to finance their operations, see Daniel Waxman, Playing with House Money: Directors’ Fiduciary Duties in a Distressed Corporation, 49 Wake Forest L. Rev. 1193, 1194–95 (2014).

For example, companies may prefer to use retained earnings because they can act quickly when they see an investment opportunity, avoiding the time-consuming and scrutiny-inducing process of raising money in the capital markets.185Zohar Goshen, Shareholder Dividend Options, 104 Yale L.J. 881, 887 (1995). As the Mars Corporation—the candy conglomerate and one of the world’s largest privately-held companies—succinctly puts it: “Private ownership allows Mars to remain free . . . [and] to move quickly in exploring new ground, act boldly in the face of competition, and take risks wherever they are justified.” Our Operating Structure: Private Ownership, Mars, https://rus.mars.com/en/about/history/private-ownership [https://perma.cc/R7YY-ELNZ]. On the other hand, existing shareholders may prefer to receive those earnings as dividends today and shift the risk of tomorrow’s success onto third-party debt or equity capital.186Douglas K. Moll, Shareholder Oppression & Dividend Policy in the Close Corporation, 60 Wash. & Lee L. Rev. 841, 858 (2003). Debt finance frequently has tax advantages,187Katherine Pratt, The Debt-Equity Distinction in a Second-Best World, 53 Vand. L. Rev. 1055, 1061 (2000) (explaining that companies can deduct interest on bonds but not profits paid as dividends). and it usually caps creditors’ upside, ensuring shareholders receive any surplus profits generated when the company invests the loan.188See Jamie D. Prenkert, A. James Barnes, Joshua E. Perry, Todd Haugh & Abbey Stemler, Business Law: The Ethical, Global & Digital Environment 42-1–24 (2021) (discussing the risks and benefits associated with debt versus equity financing). On the other hand, debt instruments usually saddle the debtor with relatively inflexible payment obligations, requiring the company to regularly generate cash to pay interest on the debt.189See Michael O’Connor Keefe & Mona Yaghoubi, The Influence of Cash Flow Volatility on Capital Structure and the Use of Debt of Different Maturities, 38 J. Corp. Fin. 18, 19 (2016). An advantage of equity financing is that equity investors have fewer downside protections than lenders, which means equity is usually “riskier capital” than debt.190Frank H. Easterbrook & Daniel R. Fischel, The Corporate Contract, 89 Colum. L. Rev. 1416, 1425 (1989). Thus, early-stage companies and other businesses without a proven track record can raise third-party capital in the equity markets even when the debt markets are closed to them.191Bernthal, supra note 180, at 776–77 (“The traditional way an early-stage startup raises outside capital is through an equity financing from an angel investor or venture capitalist—that is, an investor who takes an ownership stake in exchange for a capital contribution to the company.”). On the other hand, raising new equity dilutes existing shareholders, who may prefer not to have their ownership interest and decision-making power reduced.192Anat R. Admati, Peter Conti-Brown, & Paul Pfleiderer, Liability Holding Companies, 59 UCLA L. Rev. 852, 911 (2012); see also Gladriel Shobe & Jarrod Shobe, The Dual-Class Spectrum, 39 Yale J. on Reg. 1343, 1345 (2022) (recognizing that shareholders control companies but explaining that companies may vary control rights through dual-class equity structures).

The upshot for our purposes is that firms select their method of corporate finance for reasons very specific to that firm and the firm’s regulatory environment. Preferences and market access will vary according to a host of factors, including the firm’s size and strength, its industry, its geography, and the regulatory landscape.

Third, while all companies in principle can use retained earnings or obtain third-party debt or equity, in practice, SMEs usually do not have access to substantial retained earnings or to liquid debt and equity markets.193The U.S. Small Business Administration generally defines a small business as a firm with fewer than 500 employees. An estimated 99.9% of all firms qualify as small businesses. See Frequently Asked Questions, Office of Advocacy, U.S. Small Business Administration (March 2023), https://advocacy.sba.gov/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Frequently-Asked-Questions-About-Small-Business-March-2023-508c.pdf [https://perma.cc/6RQ4-KJY2]. There is a robust literature explaining how and why SMEs face challenges accessing traditional capital markets.194See, e.g., Todd H. Baker, Kathryn Judge, & Aaron Klein, Credit, Crises, and Infrastructure: The Differing Fates of Large and Small Businesses, 102 B.U. L. Rev. 1353, 1353 (2022); Amy C. Bushaw, Small Business Loan Pools: Testing the Waters, 2 J. Small & Emerging Bus. L. 197, 198–99 (1998); Kelly Mathews, Crowdfunding, Everyone’s Doing It: Why and How North Carolina Should Too, 94 N.C. L. Rev. 276, 282–86 (2015).

Again, a comprehensive literature review is beyond the scope of this Article. It is sufficient to repeat the oft-made insight that information asymmetries, transaction costs, and other market inefficiencies result in SMEs either being totally cut off from the debt and equity markets or facing much higher costs of capital relative to more established incumbent players.195See id. Prospective investors in smaller companies face much larger information asymmetries compared to when they invest in larger companies that are publicly traded and have armies of analysts studying their every move.196Pratt, supra note 187, at 1089. Increased information asymmetry means increased risk, and increased risk means higher borrowing costs.197See generally Modigliani, supra note 182 (developing a theory of investment in the firm under various conditions of uncertainty leading to more accurate calculations of cost of capital). In short, it is generally much harder for SMEs to find willing investors or lenders, and when they do, they typically face a much higher cost of capital compared to larger companies.198See Mann, The Role of Secured Credit, supra note 174, at 10. Similarly, SMEs almost by definition do not have significant retained earnings to invest in business-critical projects, including research and development, launching new products, or paying lawyers for bet-the-company litigation.

When SMEs can access third-party capital, they tend to gravitate towards bank loans with personal guarantees or towards higher-cost secured credit, in which a third-party investor lends against discrete collateral and has the right to foreclose on that collateral if the debtor fails to repay the loan.199Id. at 6. With asset-backed transactions, the financier treats the collateral as the primary or, indeed, sole source of repayment and thus does not need to rely on the counterparty’s general creditworthiness, enabling loans to go to companies that cannot qualify for unsecured debt or equity investments.200See Mann, supra note 23, at 683 n.131 (“In some kinds of heavily asset-based transactions, such as purchase-money loans on automobiles, the lender might forgo any serious investigation of the credit of the borrower because of the decision to treat the collateral as the primary source of repayment in the event of default.”).

We thus have a rough hierarchy of firms’ ability to access the capital markets. Larger, more established firms generally have the best access to equity and debt markets. SMEs often have thin or no access to the capital markets. But SMEs with high-quality assets can frequently obtain secured loans even when unsecured lending or equity investment is not an option.

  1. Litigation Finance as a “Nonmarket” Method of Corporate Finance

Enter litigation finance. We explained earlier that the central insight of the modern litigation finance industry is an insight about corporate finance—namely, that a strong legal claim is a valuable asset that can be used to secure third-party financing. Litigation finance may be characterized as asset-based finance in which the asset is a legal claim, and the financing can be used either to secure financing to pursue the legal claim itself or to secure working capital that can be used for general corporate purposes. Put differently, if a company needs money to invest in litigation, research, or any other legitimate business pursuit, it can use retained earnings, it can raise equity investment, it can raise traditional types of secured or unsecured debt—or it can raise litigation finance.

But we just explained that (a) companies face tradeoffs when deciding whether to use retained earnings, debt, or equity finance, and (b) not all companies have equal access to all of these forms of capital. The same holds true for litigation funding. The latter point is easier to make: litigation finance is only available to companies with strong legal claims that typically involve plaintiff-side litigations with sizable damages potential.201Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 570–71. If you do not have a litigation claim, you cannot obtain litigation finance.

As for tradeoffs, there are pros and cons to the use of litigation finance. Many of the drawbacks concern the high transaction costs inherent in litigation funding deals. Because commercial litigation funders perform comprehensive diligence into funded matters, funded deals often take months to close. Companies that need financing quickly—whether because their case has a statute of limitations issue, they urgently need capital to hire new employees, or they have some other reason—may prefer to use readily available retained earnings, or existing access to equity or debt investors, rather than wait months for litigation funders to complete their work.202See supra note 184 and accompanying text. Moreover, while companies and their corporate counsel are generally familiar with traditional debt and equity financing, most have not previously entered into a litigation finance transaction, further prolonging and complicating the funding process.

As we explained, litigation funders typically perform more comprehensive diligence on a company’s legal claim compared to other forms of financing.203See supra notes 31–35 and accompanying text. Companies that use retained earnings do not have to subject their decision to pursue a legal claim to the discipline of the market.204See supra note 184 and accompanying text. Meanwhile, traditional equity or debt financiers do not usually invest based on the value of legal claims and thus are unlikely to scrutinize the legal claim before providing financing.

The regulatory landscape concerning litigation funding also imposes transaction costs. Litigation funders typically request to see case confidential information before investing in a lawsuit. And defendants typically seek disclosure of litigation finance agreements and communications, in part to gain a strategic advantage in the litigation.205See supra notes 97–101 and accompanying text. The early statutes regulating consumer litigation finance deals recognized this fact and reacted by ensuring that communications with funders do not impair the protections of the work product doctrine or attorney-client privilege.206See supra note 76 and accompanying text. Ironically, the more recent statutes recognize this fact, too, except that they mandate rather than prohibit litigation finance disclosure.207See supra note 81 and accompanying text. Regulations that impede funders’ access to full and transparent communication from prospective funded parties, present lurking regulatory challenges, and limit funders’ ability to control litigation all effectively increase the funder’s risk and thus increase the price funded parties must pay for litigation funding.

Against these drawbacks stand the benefits of using litigation finance. Such funding is typically non-recourse, which means the company can secure financing backed only by a discrete legal asset.208See supra note 24 and accompanying text. Litigation finance is thus frequently preferable to debt, since the funder does not have an absolute right to be repaid and the attendant enforcement rights that creditors have. And funding is frequently preferable to equity, as litigation funding does not dilute existing shareholders.209See supra note 191 and accompanying text. Funders, like other asset-backed lenders, also have specialized expertise, which can help the company maximize the value of its legal assets. Moreover, because traditional debt and equity financiers are not trained in valuing legal claims, they are likely to undervalue legal claims relative to litigation funders.

But perhaps the most important reason many companies—especially SMEs—use litigation finance is simply that these businesses have no other choice. Most companies do not have millions of dollars in retained earnings to invest in litigation or research and development. Most companies are not publicly traded and do not have investment bankers who help them access liquid pools of debt and equity capital. Traditional equity and debt financing is either prohibitively expensive or effectively unavailable to these many enterprises. And most companies do not have substantial assets like inventory, machinery, or real property that can serve as the basis for asset-backed loans.210Litigation funding agreements could be structured as first-party equity investments in which the funder owns a class of stock whose return tracks only the value of the legal claim, rather than as third-party funding agreements. See Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 585–86. Such an investment still requires the specialized expertise of litigation funders to value claims, though it has potential drawbacks from a funder’s perspective, including potentially worse bankruptcy rights and tax treatment.

For these reasons, SMEs are leading consumers of litigation finance.211Lake Whillans & Above the Law, 2023 Litigation Finance Survey Report [hereinafter Lake Whillans 2023 Survey], https://lakewhillans.com/research/2023-litigation-finance-survey-report [https://perma.cc/7A5P-V8CA] (finding that the entities most likely to use litigation finance were individuals and small private companies with fewer than 100 employees); Lake Whillans & Above the Law, 2022 Litigation Finance Survey Report [hereinafter Lake Whillans 2022 Survey], https://lakewhillans.com/research/2022-litigation-finance-survey-report [https://perma.cc/V7NT-D6MJ] (“[S]mall and medium-sized companies, as well as portfolio companies of private equity firms, are the entities most likely to seek funding.”). They use litigation finance not only to finance their cases but also to obtain lower-cost capital than they could access in the traditional capital markets.212Lake Whillans 2023 Survey, supra note 211 (reporting that 45% of companies sought litigation finance to fund legal expenses, 26% to hedge the risk of litigation, 13% to fund operating expenses, and 6% to obtain a lower cost of capital); Lake Whillans 2022 Survey, supra note 211 (reporting that 31% of companies sought litigation finance to fund operating expenses, 30% to hedge the risk of litigation, 20% to fund legal expenses, and 18% to obtain lower cost of capital). Simply put, companies most likely to use litigation finance are SMEs that have difficulty accessing capital in the more traditional capital markets.

The implications for the scholarly and political debate about funding are significant. Companies use litigation finance not simply because it gives them better access to the courts. They use litigation finance because it gives them better access to the capital markets. Companies use litigation finance as an adaptive nonmarket strategy, leveraging their legal claims to secure financing that allows them to grow their businesses and better compete in the marketplace. This is especially true when a company secures litigation finance to obtain general working capital, for in that sense, litigation finance companies serve an identical function to financiers in other corners of the capital markets: they are third parties who provide investments secured by company assets. This insight holds true when they secure funding to pay the fees and costs of litigation: money is fungible, and by obtaining financing for their litigation, they free up other cash to invest in their core business.

B. Litigation Finance to Pursue Litigation: Adaptive and Transformative Strategies

We explained earlier that businesses frequently seek a competitive market advantage by engaging in litigation, including by bringing suit against competitors, customers, suppliers, or regulators. Companies use the court system to gain a strategic advantage in the marketplace and drive economic value to themselves.213See David Orozco, Strategic Legal Bullying, 13 N.Y.U. J.L. & BUS. 137, 138–45 (2016). Winning the litigation is a secondary consideration, or more precisely, a necessary antecedent to the ultimate goal of winning in the marketplace. Companies use litigation as an additive nonmarket strategy when they use litigation to enforce existing rules and regulations against other market participants in the hope of achieving an advantage in the marketplace.214See supra Part II.B.1. These litigations are typically “private law” disputes seeking money damages. By contrast, companies use litigation as a transformative nonmarket strategy when they use the court system to transform the rules and regulations that affect their business, typically by challenging the legality of laws and regulations.215See supra Part II.B.2. These litigations are typically “public law” disputes seeking declaratory and injunctive relief.

If a company wants to use litigation as a nonmarket strategy, it needs money to pursue that claim. Litigation is expensive, and some firms (generally, SMEs) are at a comparative disadvantage in terms of their ability to use retained earnings to file suit or to access traditional capital markets to raise debt or equity capital that can be used to finance litigation.

A firm’s relative inability to use litigation as a nonmarket strategy puts the firm at a comparative disadvantage in its ability to compete in the marketplace. Compared to larger players, the firm is relatively unable to pursue private law claims against other market participants to bolster its position in the market, and it is also comparatively less able to pursue public law claims that attack unfavorable government regulations. Thus, litigation finance helps level the playing field in the marketplace by enabling SMEs to have greater ability to use litigation as a nonmarket strategy. The battle over litigation finance must then be understood at least in part as a battle over which companies have access to litigation as a nonmarket strategy.

Our argument here does not presume that any and every nonmarket strategy is necessarily welfare-enhancing. Indeed, scholars have questioned the value of litigation through a host of normative lenses. For example, some have argued that private law litigation between two parties does not maximize welfare for either the parties to the litigation or society as a whole.216See, e.g., Jennifer H. Arlen & William J. Carney, Vicarious Liability for Fraud on Securities Markets: Theory and Evidence, 1992 U. Ill. L. Rev. 691, 694 (1992) (referring to litigation costs as “a deadweight loss that only benefits attorneys”); BeVier, supra note 136, at 2 (arguing that Lanham Act false advertising suits may not improve consumer welfare). Likewise, the use of lobbying—a transformative strategy—has been challenged as inefficient rent-seeking.217See Hasen, supra note 139, at 197 (reviewing arguments that “lobbyists facilitate activity which economists term rent-seeking”). While resolution of these underlying questions is beyond the scope of this Article, we offer three relevant comments.

First, the question for purposes of this Article is not whether litigation (or lobbying for that matter) should be used as a nonmarket strategy. Litigation has been used for strategic business reasons since long before the rise of the modern litigation finance industry, and well-resourced companies will continue to use litigation as a nonmarket strategy even if third-party litigation finance is stamped out of existence. The question instead is whether the ability to use litigation for strategic purposes should primarily be the domain of companies more likely to rely on retained earnings or traditional capital markets to pursue litigation or whether it should also be the domain of smaller firms more likely to use third-party litigation finance.218We also note that this is a category mistake. The concern that companies may use litigation as a bullying tactic is ever-present, regardless of whether that funding arises from third-party funding or not. The legal system is built to mitigate these risks through various safeguards, including the various litigation stages parties must overcome plus the threat of Rule 11 sanctions for companies and lawyers who file frivolous suits. Cf. Brian T. Fitzpatrick, The Conservative Case for Class Actions 66–73 (2019) (explaining that many arguments against class actions are generally better understood as arguments against particular liability regimes). Put differently, even if one believes the “first-best” policy would be for no one to use litigation as a nonmarket strategy, the second-best solution is not necessarily to allow well-resourced incumbents to use nonmarket strategies while stripping smaller competitors of the means to do so too.219Cf. Richard H. Fallon, Jr., Foreword: Implementing the Constitution, 111 Harv. L. Rev. 54, 126 (1997) (“[A]n ideal of what would be first-best should not obscure the practical need for approaches that are second-best; second-best approaches are sometimes necessary, in practice, for the Constitution to be implemented reasonably successfully.”).

Second, there are good reasons to believe that cases funded by litigation funders are less likely to exacerbate broader concerns about the use of litigation as a nonmarket strategy. We previously discussed funders’ rigorous due diligence process, which tests a case’s merits in the courtroom, not its impact on the plaintiff’s market position.220See supra notes 31–35 and accompanying text. Because funders need their return to come from a court settlement, they generally do not benefit if a funded case results in a small monetary settlement but a significant market advantage for the funded party. Put differently, litigation funders are less likely to back cases that help companies win in the marketplace unless the company is also likely to win in the courtroom. Thus, although some critics of litigation finance argue that funders may promote frivolous litigation, the opposite is more likely to be true: cases funded by litigation funders are probably less likely to be weak, competitor-bullying cases than are most other cases, because funded cases are subject to more pre-filing scrutiny than other cases.

Third, litigation finance is more likely to be used in contexts where litigation is used as an adaptive rather than a transformative strategy. Because litigation funders invest on a non-recourse basis, receiving their recovery only from case proceeds, they typically only invest in cases where the plaintiff seeks money damages, not injunctive relief.221Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 571 n.23 (explaining that “[s]uits seeking purely injunctive relief are not normally candidates for funding” and identifying claims for exclusion orders at the International Trade Commission as an exception because those cases often result in financial settlements). Thus, litigation funders frequently finance competitor suits like patent suits, false advertising cases, unfair competition suits, and so on, all of which are within the domain of adaptive nonmarket strategies. But litigation funders are highly unlikely to finance cases that pursue transformative strategies, as those suits are more likely to be cases brought against governmental entities seeking declaratory and injunctive relief, usually in the form of a court order finding a particular regulation unenforceable.

Larger firms that do not need litigation finance (for example, the Apples and Intels of the world) are more likely to pursue litigation as a transformative strategy rather than an adaptive strategy. In a related context, scholars have studied the different litigation preferences of repeat players compared to “one shotters.”222See Marc Galanter, Why the “Haves” Come Out Ahead: Speculations on the Limits of Legal Change, 9 L. & Soc’y Rev. 95, 98–104 (1974) (introducing the concept of different litigation preferences among one-shotters and repeat players); see also Frank B. Cross, In Praise of Irrational Plaintiffs, 86 Cornell L. Rev. 1, 6 (2000) (explaining that repeat players care more about the precedent set in a particular case, whereas for one-shotters, the result in that particular case matters above all else); Steinitz, supra note 54, at 1303 (arguing that litigation finance can help one-shotters “play for rules,” because although individual plaintiffs may be one-shotters, litigation funders are repeat players more interested in favorable precedent development). Larger corporations tend to be repeat players, whereas smaller firms and individuals tend to be one-shotters.223Steinitz, supra note 54, at 1303. And larger companies are more likely to be sued than to sue for violations of patent, antitrust, unfair competition, trademark, and copyright laws. For this reason, they are less likely to pursue meritorious plaintiff-side cases involving those underlying legal theories because they do not want to establish precedent that expands liability in those domains. For example, a victory in a specific patent case for Apple may be Pyrrhic if it expanded Apple’s liability for patent infringement in dozens of other cases.

Litigation used as a transformative strategy—that is, as a strategy to invalidate rules and regulations—presents a different story. In general, larger firms will be more comfortable with plaintiff-side litigation that develops precedent in ways that restrict the power of regulatory bodies, such as precedent overruling the Chevron doctrine or invalidating agency regulations. This insight helps explain why the Chamber of Commerce strongly opposes modern commercial litigation finance even as it actively pursues public law litigation to benefit its own financiers.224See supra note 80 and accompanying text.

In sum, (a) large and small companies can use litigation as a nonmarket strategy, (b) litigation finance is primarily used by smaller companies to implement adaptive nonmarket strategies, and (c) larger companies that have less of a need for litigation finance are more likely to pursue transformative strategies and disfavor litigation involving adaptive strategies. From these points emerges an important implication for the policy debate about litigation finance: regulations of litigation finance, with their focus on third-party funders’ receipt of money damages rather than injunctive relief, target the use of litigation as an adaptive strategy, primarily as employed by SMEs. If the battle over litigation finance is partly a battle over which companies can use litigation as a strategy to better compete in the marketplace, then the regulation of litigation finance will generally tend to give larger companies a comparative advantage over smaller companies.

C. Lobbying and Trade Associations: Transformative and Additive Strategies

Litigation finance has become a contentious policy issue, with regulations being considered by state and federal lawmakers and judges alike. The opponents of litigation finance are lobbying lawmakers and judges, asking them to impose regulations that range from mandatory disclosure rules and registration requirements to rate caps and even bans on funding.225See supra Part I.C. These efforts are led by the United States Chamber of Commerce, a business lobby, and by major corporations that have found themselves as defendants in funded cases.226Id. The supporters of funding have launched their own counter-offensive, trying to stave off the regulations they believe will hinder the industry’s growth.227Emily Siegel, Litigation Finance Group Shrugs Off Forced Disclosure Push (1), Bloomberg (Nov. 15, 2023, 2:15 AM), https://news.bloomberglaw.com/business-and-practice/litigation-finance-trade-group-shrugs-off-forced-disclosure-push [https://perma.cc/ZTV8-CLWB]. The funding community’s efforts are led by the International Legal Finance Association (“ILFA”), a nonprofit organization whose mission is to promote litigation finance and represent funders’ interests before lawmaking bodies like the United States Congress.228About ILFA, ILFA, https://www.ilfa.com/#about-us [https://perma.cc/ZL7C-BLJF].

As we have demonstrated, participants in the policy debate focus on funding’s impact on the civil justice system.229See supra Part I.C. Our analysis suggests a different interpretation: the policy fight itself must be understood at least in part as a nonmarket strategy where the stakes are success in the market. Many companies stand to either win or lose in the marketplace when litigation finance becomes widely available. Efforts by groups like the Chamber of Commerce and businesses to impose burdensome regulations on the litigation finance industry represent a classic example of that common transformative nonmarket strategy: lobbying.230See supra Part II.B. These enterprises are trying to transform the laws and regulations governing funding to essentially increase the transaction costs associated with third-party litigation finance, with the goal of ultimately giving larger firms a comparative advantage in the marketplace.

Litigation funders have also responded by forming ILFA, a trade association. ILFA engages in lobbying as its own transformative strategy in response to efforts to regulate litigation funding. ILFA has also promulgated a set of best practices for funders, which includes an emphasis on clarity, avoidance of conflicts of interest, confidentiality, respect for court rules, and capital adequacy.231Best Practice, ILFA, https://www.ilfa.com/#best-practice [https://perma.cc/P62J-MUHY]. ILFA’s members voluntarily commit to these standards.232Id. Trade associations that set standards for an industry present prime examples of additive nonmarket strategies.233See Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 121. Companies voluntarily sign onto these trade associations, they fund them, and ultimately, they follow the advice of these trade associations.234See Angela J. Campbell, Self-Regulation and the Media, 51 Fed. Comm. L.J. 711, 714–15 (1999). The goal is frequently to insulate an industry from further external regulation through self-regulation.235For discussions of self-regulation via trade association, see, e.g., William A. Birdthistle & M. Todd Henderson, Becoming a Fifth Branch, 99 Cornell L. Rev. 1, 7 (2013) (explaining that “nongovernmental regulations—what is commonly known as private law—exercise substantial regulation of behavior. . . . Entities and organizations of all sizes establish and enforce their own disciplinary codes, often through their own legislative, executive, and judicial efforts”); Dennis D. Hirsch, The Law and Policy of Online Privacy: Regulation, Self-Regulation, or Co-Regulation?, 34 Seattle U. L. Rev. 439, 465 (2011) (“The key distinction between co-regulation, government regulation, and self-regulation concerns who sets and enforces regulatory goals and standards. In self-regulation, the regulated industry itself sets the goals, develops the rules, and enforces the standards.”) (footnote omitted).

By voluntarily committing to the standards set by ILFA, financiers can accomplish several strategic goals. By self-regulating, they may avoid “being subject to government rules which may be more onerous or less efficient than the rules defined locally by the actors themselves.”236Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 121. The legal profession itself is largely self-regulating through the code of legal ethics, allowing lawyers primarily to regulate themselves rather than being subject to external government regulation.237See, e.g., Jonathan Macey, Occupation Code 541110: Lawyers, Self-Regulation, and the Idea of a Profession, 74 Fordham L. Rev. 1079, 1081 (2005); Sandra Caron George, Prosecutorial Discretion: What’s Politics Got to Do with It?, 18 Geo. J. Legal Ethics 739, 745 (2005). For the contrary view that lawyers are not in fact largely self-regulated, see Fred C. Zacharias, The Myth of Self-Regulation, 93 Minn. L. Rev. 1147, 1148 (2009). Moreover, by organizing behind a group like ILFA, funders can signal to stakeholders that they take seriously their obligations to justice and the legal system. The goal here is to create a system where financiers are “rewarded for establishing a norm of better behavior, either by those who benefit from their actions directly, or from those who value responsible behavior more generally.”238Dorobantu et al., supra note 6, at 121.

IV. Policy Implications of Litigation Finance as Nonmarket Strategy

We have demonstrated that litigation finance has powerful implications not only for the legal system, but also for finance and business competition. The primary contribution of this Article is thus to identify a new dimension of study for scholars and policymakers who wish to understand the welfare effects of litigation finance. We provide a nonmarket strategy framework for understanding how litigation funding impacts finance and business.

We now provide some initial observations for how our insights affect debates about funding. First, we identify implications related to funding’s impact on the marketplace. Second, we draw implications for the existing debate about funding’s impact on the civil justice system.

A. A New Dimension to the Policy Debate

Companies use litigation finance to compete not only in the courtroom but also in the marketplace. Scholars and policymakers cannot fully understand and effectively regulate litigation finance unless they account for these overlooked welfare impacts.

  1. A Regulation of the Capital Markets

Recent efforts to regulate “third party litigation finance” cannot be understood as efforts to broadly regulate the practice of third parties funding lawsuits in the civil justice system. Rather, the proposed regulations are targeted at a particular corner of the capital markets—and a corner more likely to be used by SMEs.

Consider two enacted regulations: a federal court’s local rule requiring disclosure of certain third-party financing agreements, and an exemplary state law regulating certain third-party financing arrangements. These regulations do not target third-party funding writ large. Rather, they target very specific types of corporate transactions.

We begin with the District of New Jersey’s Local Rule requiring mandatory disclosure of certain litigation funding arrangements, which has been copied verbatim by Judge Colm Connolly in the District of Delaware. The rule requires disclosure of any

person or entity that is not a party and is providing funding for some or all of the attorneys’ fees and expenses for the litigation on a non-recourse basis in exchange for (1) a contingent financial interest based upon the results of the litigation or (2) a non-monetary result that is not in the nature of a personal or bank loan, or insurance.239D.N.J. Civ. R. 7.1.1(a); see also Judge Connolly Standing Order, supra note 91.

Subtle nuances in the Rule’s language work to require disclosure only of certain forms of third-party finance. The rule covers entities that are “not a party” to the litigation and provide finance “on a non-recourse basis.” These limitations carve out traditional equity and debt financing. If a company raises equity financing from third parties with the goal of using that money to pursue litigation, disclosure is not required because the third-party investor essentially becomes a first-party owner. This new equity holder could very well hold voting rights to control the company’s activities, including its litigation. Meanwhile, the reference to “non-recourse” financing carves out traditional forms of unsecured or secured credit, which typically rely on the firm’s general creditworthiness (unsecured loans) or discrete assets like receivables or machinery (secured loans).

The Rule also excludes from disclosure instances where a company finances a third party seeking injunctive relief, as when companies provide financing to entities like the Chamber of Commerce so that the Chamber can seek declaratory and injunctive relief in public law cases. Companies that finance third parties seeking injunctive relief do not retain “a contingent financial interest” in the litigation, nor do they finance in exchange for “a non-monetary result that is not in the nature of a personal or bank loan, or insurance.” They simply finance the pursuit of injunctive relief that will necessarily benefit their business.

A similar analysis may be applied to a recent law enacted in Louisiana, SB355, which requires disclosure of litigation financing agreements and prohibits funders from controlling litigation.240S.B. No. 355, 2024 Reg. Sess. (La. 2024), https://bit.ly/3A24Ozw. The statute has a lengthy definition of “third-party litigation funder” that excludes from its coverage many entities that are in fact third-party litigation funders. The statute’s 300-plus word definition of “litigation financing” provides:

“Third-party litigation funder” means any person or entity that provides funding intended to defray litigation expenses or the financial impact of a negative judgment related to a civil action and has the contractual right to receive or make any payment that is contingent on the outcome of an identified civil action by settlement, judgment, or otherwise or on the outcome of any matter within a portfolio that includes the action and involves the same counsel or affiliated counsel. This term does not apply to:

(a) The named parties, counsel of record, or law firm of record providing funding intended to defray litigation expenses related to the civil action.

(b) A person or entity providing funding solely intended to pay costs of living or other personal or familial expenses during the pendency of such civil action where such funds are not used to defray litigation expenses.

(c) Counsel of record, or law firm of record, or any referring counsel providing legal services on a contingency fee basis or to advance his or her client’s legal costs where the services or costs are provided by counsel of record or law firm of record in accordance with the Rules of Professional Conduct.

(d) A health insurer, medical provider, or assignee that has paid, is obligated to pay, or is owed any sums for health care for an injured person under the terms of a health insurance plan or other agreement.

(e) A financial institution providing loans made directly to a party, counsel of record, or a law firm of record when repayment of the loan is not contingent upon the outcome of such civil action or on the outcome of any matter within a portfolio that includes such civil action and involves the same counsel or affiliated counsel.

(f) A nonprofit legal organization exempt from federal income tax under 28 Section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code, or any person providing funding to a nonprofit legal organization that represents clients on a pro bono basis. This Subparagraph does not affect the award of costs or attorney fees to a nonprofit legal organization or related attorney.241Id.

Each of the exclusions in subsections (a) through (f) is in fact an instance of third parties to the litigation that provide financing to support the litigation. Subsection (b) exempts third-party funding provided for a particular use of funds. Ignoring that money is fungible, the statute permits funders to provide capital that is specifically used for “costs of living or other personal or familial expenses,” so long as that money is not diverted “to defray litigation expenses.” Subsection (b) does not permit funders to provide capital used for corporate working capital, thus ensuring that the statute regulates discretionary financing to companies but not to individuals.

The remainder of the exclusions carve out various entities that provide third-party funding. Subsections (a) and (c) exempt lawyers (third parties to the litigation) who finance the litigation on a contingent fee basis, while subsection (a) also allows one party to the litigation to finance the litigation of their co-plaintiffs. Subsection (d) exempts insurers. Subsection (e) carves out all third-party investments that are non-recourse and limited only to the legal claim. In other words, subsection (e) recognizes that many companies use general-recourse third-party debt and equity financing to back their litigation, but it excludes those entities from having to disclose their funding. Meanwhile, subsection (f) excludes nonprofit entities organized under section 501(c)(3).

The definition of “third-party litigation funder” also only covers entities with a “contractual right to receive or make any payment” from the funded case.242Id. This definition therefore excludes all funders that seek declaratory or injunctive relief in public law matters (as opposed to money damages relief in private law matters). This exclusion applies, for example, to organizations like the Chamber of Commerce’s Litigation Center, a 501(c)(6) organization that raises money from donors to pursue injunctive relief against government entities (pursuing transformative nonmarket strategies on behalf of its backers). The Chamber’s proposed regulations of third-party funding carve out the form of third-party funding that the Chamber uses.

In sum, the New Jersey disclosure rule and Louisiana statute, which are emblematic of other proposed and enacted regulations,243See D.N.J. Civ. R. 7.1.1 (2021) (mirroring the language of Judge Connolly’s District of Delaware disclosure rule); Florida Bill (containing a lengthy list of exclusions from the definition of “litigation funding agreement” that mirrors many of the exclusions in the Louisiana statute). do not broadly regulate the practice of third parties financing the pursuit of legal claims. Rather, they target specific forms of third-party funding, with a definition based on the corporate form of the transaction and the parties thereto. The regulations turn primarily on the financier’s corporate status (e.g., whether it is a law firm, nonprofit, or profit-seeking funder), the collateral for the financier’s investment (e.g., whether it is broad-recourse equity or debt, or recourse only to the litigation), and whether the financier’s expected return is tied directly to a monetary result in a case. Certain types of companies are more likely to prefer the narrow category of third-party funding regulated by these rules and statutes. Specifically, SMEs are more likely to structure their third-party capital raises using modern commercial litigation finance, regardless of whether they use the litigation funder’s investment to pursue litigation or as general corporate working capital.

  1. Implications for Business Competition

Efforts to regulate or deregulate litigation finance must be viewed as a battle for an edge not just in the courthouse but also in the marketplace. When companies lobby for regulations of litigation funding, they are pursuing transformative nonmarket strategies to give themselves a market edge by discouraging litigation funding. And when the funding industry forms its own lobbying and standard-setting body, it is pursuing transformative and additive nonmarket strategies to combat the anti-funding transformative strategy.

This Article has also shown that companies use litigation finance to pursue nonmarket strategies in both adaptive and transformative ways. Regulations that promote or discourage litigation finance will impact firms’ ability to avail themselves of these nonmarket strategies. This insight raises important but overlooked welfare concerns that scholars and policymakers must consider when evaluating litigation finance.

First, consider the use of litigation finance to pursue litigation as an adaptive strategy (e.g., to pursue an antitrust suit against a competitor) or as a transformative strategy (e.g., to challenge a regulation that targets the company’s business model). If policymakers curtail access to funding, then companies that rely on litigation funding to pursue litigations with adaptive or transformative purposes will be less likely to pursue those litigations, or they will have fewer resources to effectively prosecute those litigations.244As we have argued elsewhere, litigation funding does not necessarily result in a net increase in litigation, partly because many cases backed by litigation funders may be brought through other means (for example, with contingent fee counsel) if modern commercial litigation finance did not exist. But funding does frequently provide litigants with more substantial resources to pursue their claims. See Bedi & Marra, supra note 1, at 607, 609–10.

In the first instance, the normative impact of litigation finance regulations will likely depend on whether one views the pursuit of these nonmarket strategies as a good or bad thing. For example, if one thinks the patent laws are under-enforced and the antitrust laws promote a healthier market, then diminished access to litigation finance may be a bad thing because it means fewer firms will be able to pursue patent and antitrust suits as an adaptive nonmarket strategy. If one takes a different view—that litigation involving the existing patent and antitrust laws diminishes welfare—then one might view the regulation of litigation finance as a good thing.

But the analysis is more complicated than this. Many companies do not need modern litigation finance to pursue litigation as an adaptive or transformative nonmarket strategy. Ban litigation funding, and they still have access to retained earnings and traditional debt or equity capital to pursue litigation designed to give them an edge in the courthouse. Regulating litigation finance thus only prohibits some players from deploying these nonmarket strategies. Put differently, if one prohibits some (mostly smaller) firms from accessing litigation finance, other (mostly larger) firms that do not need litigation finance can still pursue litigation for adaptive and transformative purposes, putting them at a comparative advantage in the marketplace. Policymakers must consider the welfare implications that flow from firms’ unequal ability to pursue litigation as a nonmarket strategy.245See supra notes 217–18 and accompanying text.

Second, in addition to the use of litigation for adaptive and transformative purposes, this Article also demonstrated that companies can use litigation finance as an adaptive strategy by leveraging their legal claims to raise capital. Many companies use third-party financing writ large not simply to pay their lawyers on legal cases, but also to raise general working capital to fund their business activities.246See supra notes 46–52 and accompanying text. Larger companies often structure these transactions as third-party equity investments, or third-party debt investments that are either unsecured or secured by assets other than litigation claims. Smaller companies have more difficulty accessing these traditional markets, so they often turn to litigation finance instead.247For various reasons, including bankruptcy protections and tax policy, litigation funders may prefer to structure their investments as third-party funding agreements rather than debt or equity investments.

Put differently, large companies are more likely to finance their litigation and other business activities through third-party capital that falls within the safe harbors provided by the nascent regulations of litigation funding such as the New Jersey disclosure rule and Louisiana statute discussed above. They are more likely to raise general recourse debt or equity capital, and they are more likely to have the financial wherewithal to finance transformative litigation through a third party like the Chamber of Commerce.

To see the patchwork results, recall the weather balloon company that needs $15 million to finance litigation and develop new products. If the company has retained earnings or is able to raise traditional third-party debt or equity financing, it need not disclose its financing in litigation. Yet if the most efficient fundraise for the company is a commercial litigation finance fundraise, then the litigation finance regulatory structure kicks in. Meanwhile, if the company’s interests lie not in enforcing a claim against a competitor for money damages, but rather in invalidating a government regulation via declaratory and injunctive relief, then the company is not subject to the litigation finance disclosure regime either. This is so regardless of whether the company sues in its own name or if it finances a third party like the Chamber of Commerce to pursue the litigation.

One’s perspective on these insights may depend on the normative lens applied. As an example, consider the impact of limiting companies’ ability to raise capital via litigation funding. Assuming one values marketplace efficiency, current calls for regulation of litigation finance likely move the marketplace away from efficiency.248Law and economics has as its bedrock a goal of maximizing marketplace efficiency. For a discussion of this, see Robert D. Cooter, The Best Right Laws: Value Foundations of the Economic Analysis of Law, 64 Notre Dame L. Rev. 817, 817 (1989) (discussing how law and economics advances notions of efficiency); A. Mitchell Polinsky, An Introduction to Law and Economics (2018) (analyzing various legal concepts from a perspective of maximizing efficiency). This is because current litigation finance regulations hamper small businesses’ ability to access the litigation finance capital markets to fund various strategic business endeavors. These regimes thus favor larger companies, who have ample access to other capital markets and have less need for litigation funding.

And assuming one believes that it is better when most industries have many firms competing against each other, then the use of litigation finance as an adaptive strategy to raise capital likely improves societal outcomes. Litigation finance allows more companies to raise capital to produce, market, and sell their goods. Increased competition usually reduces prices for consumers and moves the market towards a more competitive equilibrium.249Our claim is not that litigation finance creates perfect efficiency or competition. And there are certainly inefficiencies associated with litigation. See supra Part II.B.2. Instead, we offer the more modest argument that when used as an adaptive nonmarket strategy, litigation finance likely moves the market towards a more efficient outcome. Nor is our claim that litigation finance is only welfare-enhancing. It may decrease welfare at times. We leave for future research a discussion of inefficiencies that litigation finance may create.

B. Implications for the Civil Justice System

In addition to identifying a new dimension in the debate about litigation funding—how funding affects parties’ ability to compete in the marketplace—our study also brings a fresh perspective to the existing debate about how funding affects the civil justice system.

First, one significant question in the existing policy debate is whether litigation funders spur frivolous litigation. Opponents of litigation funding argue that funders will seek high-value claims even if they are frivolous, with the hopes of forcing settlements. Proponents of funding respond that financiers who invest in bad cases will soon be out of business.250See supra note 57.

Our analysis sheds new light on that question by inviting a comparison of the scrutiny applied to cases that are funded via third-party litigation finance, as compared to funding via retained earnings or traditional third-party debt and equity financing. Before commercial litigation finance companies invest in cases, they apply extensive, months-long due diligence that is characteristic of asset-based lenders in general.251See supra notes 31–35 and accompanying text. By contrast, funding litigation with retained earnings does not result in rigorous third-party scrutiny of the value of the litigation. Indeed, corporate finance scholarship has identified the agency problem inherent when managers use retained earnings to pursue new investments. Retained earnings avoid investor accountability because, by not raising external funds, “managers avoid a capital markets inspection of their past performance and the need to persuade the capital markets of the soundness of their proposed projects.”252Goshen, supra note 185, at 887; see also Huang & Knoll, supra note 170, at 183–84. By contrast, the use of project finance—and litigation finance is project finance for law—can “discipline management” because it “allows the investors, not the managers, to decide where the free cash flow will be invested. If the managers want to make new investments, they must raise the capital from outside investor.”253Huang & Knoll, supra note 170, at 183–84. Meanwhile, while raising more traditional equity or debt capital does invite investor scrutiny, it is not usually scrutiny specifically focused on the value of the legal claim. It follows that if companies want to pursue frivolous litigation, third-party litigation funding is probably least likely to result in approval to pursue the case.

Second, another important question in the existing debate about funding is whether third-party funders should be able to control litigation strategy and settlement decisions. Third-party funders state that they generally do not exercise control rights over litigation decisions, and many publicly-disclosed financing agreements bear this out, but there is one notable exception: after Burford Capital provided $140 million in working capital to Sysco, secured against several antitrust suits the food company had brought against suppliers, Burford attempted to veto Sysco’s decision to settle those cases for an amount below Burford’s liking.254See Alison Frankel, Sysco cedes antitrust claims to litigation funder Burford as two sides drop cases, Reuters (June 29, 2023, 1:52 PM), https://www.reuters.com/legal/litigation/column-sysco-cedes-antitrust-claims-litigation-funder-burford-two-sides-drop-2023-06-29 [https://perma.cc/ERP3-HDWU]; Alison Frankel, Sysco sues litigation funder Burford, blasts Boies Schiller over $140 million soured deal, Reuters (Mar. 9, 2023, 3:10 PM), https://www.reuters.com/legal/legalindustry/sysco-sues-litigation-funder-burford-blasts-boies-schiller-over-140-million-2023-03-09 [https://perma.cc/77ZZ-S4AM]. Meanwhile, litigation finance regulations have targeted control, with recent regulatory efforts trying to prohibit funders from controlling litigation, and court rules promulgated by the District of New Jersey and the Chief Judge of the District of Delaware requiring parties to disclose if they have provided a third-party funder with litigation control rights.255See, e.g., D.N.J. Civ. R. 7.1.1(a) (requiring disclosure of “[w]hether the funder’s approval is necessary for litigation decisions or settlement decisions in the action”).

If policymakers are concerned about control, there are many ways that financiers can accomplish control, and indeed standing as a third-party funder may be a uniquely inferior way to obtain control. For example, a third-party financier could become a controlling equity investor in the company and thus take over control of all the company’s operations, including the litigation.256See Ronald J. Gilson & Jeffrey N. Gordon, Controlling Controlling Shareholders, 152 U. Pa. L. Rev. 785, 785–86 (2003) (discussing the powers of, and potential for abuses by, controlling shareholders). The control rights of minority shareholders are more complicated and contingent. See Dalia Tsuk Mitchell, Shareholders as Proxies: The Contours of Shareholder Democracy, 63 Wash. & Lee L. Rev. 1503, 1504 (2006). This approach might be particularly feasible for smaller claimholders in financial distress whose value is tied primarily or entirely to the value of litigation. Similarly, traditional creditors usually have powerful levers of control, including the power to force the company into bankruptcy or sue for payment on a loan.257See, e.g., Lucian Arye Bebchuk & Jesse M. Fried, A New Approach to Valuing Secured Claims in Bankruptcy, 114 Harv. L. Rev. 2386, 2393 (2001) (describing the powers of secured creditors in and out of bankruptcy). Creditors may use these rights to influence litigation. Yet the proposed regulations of litigation funding capture none of these instances of control via equity or traditional debt investment.

Third, a more recent issue in the litigation finance debate is whether litigation finance might present a national security risk. Opponents of litigation finance argue that funding can provide a conduit for foreign adversaries like China and Russia to impair the competitiveness of American companies by forcing them to defend against costly litigation and by gaining access to sensitive trade secrets during discovery.258Webb, supra note 85. Supporters of litigation finance argue that there is little evidence of such foreign interference, and that China and Russia have much more effective ways of hurting America than corrupting the judicial system from the position of a third-party funder.259See, e.g., Mortara, supra note 86.

Our analysis offers a different perspective. If foreign adversaries want to gain a competitive edge by accessing secrets through litigation, they can do so much more effectively by simply taking control of the plaintiff company, or by pursuing any of the other third-party financial methods that are not captured by the proposed regulations. In those circumstances, none of the onerous proposed regulations of litigation finance would capture their participation. The enacted and proposed regulations are highly underinclusive relative to the stated goal of ferreting out foreign influence.

Fourth, the disclosure of litigation finance agreements has emerged as a leading regulatory proposal in the existing debate. Proposed regulations of funding almost universally include a requirement that plaintiffs disclose the presence of litigation funding to the court and defendants.260See supra Part I.C. Proponents of disclosure argue that it is necessary to unearth whether the funder is violating any applicable ethical or legal rules, and to avoid judicial conflicts of interest.261What You Need to Know About Third Party Litigation Funding, U.S. Chamber of Com. Inst. for Legal Reform (June 7, 2024), https://instituteforlegalreform.com/what-you-need-to-know-about-third-party-litigation-funding [https://perma.cc/M45G-JMHX]. Opponents of disclosure argue that it invites discovery side-shows and gives defendants a strategic advantage by disclosing whether the plaintiff has funding (and potentially disclosing much more, too).262Sharfman, supra note 56, at 38–39.

But again, there are myriad ways in which third parties finance another company’s litigation, and these financing methods are not commonly disclosed to courts or litigation opponents. Indeed, the federal rules provide very thin corporate disclosure, mandating that private companies need only disclose the identity of a parent corporation and of any publicly held corporation that owns ten percent or more of its stock.263Fed. R. Civ. P. 7.1(a)(1). These limited disclosures were no mere oversight but a deliberate choice. The Rules Committee acknowledged that “[f]raming a rule that calls for more detailed disclosure will be difficult” and could create “[u]nnecessary disclosure requirements” that “place a burden on the parties and on courts.”264Id., Committee Notes on Rules—2002. The new regulations of litigation finance thus impose burdensome disclosure requirements on only one form of corporate finance, with the inquiry turning not on the type of litigation or the intent of the financier, but rather simply on the type of corporate form that makes most sense for the regulated party.265Insured parties do not need to disclose the availability of insurance, Fed. R. Civ. P. 26(a)(1)(A)(iv), and supporters of financing disclosure usually highlight this fact in pushing for disclosure. See Victoria Shannon Sahani, Judging Third-Party Funding, 63 UCLA L. Rev. 388, 409 (2016). But insurance is an exception for reasons explained in the comment to Rule 26, see notes of Advisory committee on Rules—1970 Amendment, Fed. R. Civ. P. 26, while the norm is that other third-party financing agreements (for example, third party debt and equity) are not disclosed. Indeed, while a defendant must disclose insurance, they need not disclose third-party sources of funding their defense, such as third-party debt, or equity capital raises, or retained earnings set aside for defense. See id. (explaining that disclosure is limited to insurance coverage and does not extend, for example, to a defendant’s general litigation reserves, or a defense’s funding budget, or a party’s general financial status).

In sum, almost all companies raise third-party capital to finance litigation and other business pursuits. Sometimes they raise equity from third-party investors. Sometimes they raise traditional third-party debt on a secured or unsecured basis. And sometimes—if it makes sense for the company given its size, strength, and regulatory environment, among other factors—they raise modern “litigation finance.” Efforts to regulate only a subset of the many ways claimholders raise third-party capital to finance litigation suggest that many proposed regulations of funding are underinclusive relative to their stated goal. Our nonmarket strategy framework suggests strategic business motivations for these proposed regulations.

V. Scholarly Benefits of the Nonmarket Strategy Framework

In addition to reframing how scholars and policymakers should approach litigation finance, our framework also holds value for both the law and business academies. First, our analysis answers recent calls by legal scholars for work that combines the scholarly disciplines of law and strategy. Second, our framework creates new insights for business scholars, especially concerning the types of strategic endeavors that firms engage in.

A. Legal Scholars

Legal scholarship does not usually focus on strategic business decision-making.266Historically, even business law scholarship has mostly focused on corporate governance and regulatory issues. The list of corporate governance scholarship is extensive. See, e.g., Lawrence E. Mitchell, Critical Look at Corporate Governance, 45 Vand. L. Rev. 1263, 1263–73 (1992); Jessica Erickson, Corporate Governance in the Courtroom: An Empirical Analysis, 51 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 1749, 1752–55 (2010); Jonathan R. Macey, Corporate Law and Corporate Governance: A Contractual Perspective, 18 J. Corp. L. 185, 185–86 (1993); Suneal Bedi, The Corporate Pro Se Litigant, 82 Ohio St. L.J. 77, 78–83 (2021). The list of business law scholarship focused on regulation is likewise vast. See, e.g., James J. Park, Rules, Principles, and the Competition to Enforce the Securities Laws, 100 Cal. L. Rev. 115, 117–20 (2012); some examples on compliance at large are: Todd Haugh, The Criminalization of Compliance, 92 Notre Dame L. Rev. 1215, 1215–19 (2017); Eugene Soltes, Evaluating the Effectiveness of Corporate Compliance Programs: Establishing a Model for Prosecutors, Courts, and Firms, 14 N.Y.U. J.L. & Bus. 965, 965 (2018). “The notion that law may be a source of competitive advantage remains largely unexplored.”267Robert C. Bird, Law, Strategy, and Competitive Advantage, 44 Conn. L. Rev. 61, 64 (2011). This is so even though law has a tremendous impact on business strategy, and even though many of the most contentious contemporary legal questions have high stakes for business interests.268See, e.g., Loper Bright Enters. v. Raimondo, 603 U.S. 369 (2024) (overruling Chevron, U.S.A., Inc. v. Nat. Res. Def. Council, Inc., 467 U.S. 837 (1984)); Consumer Fin. Prot. Bureau v. Cmty. Fin. Servs. Ass’n of Am., 601 U.S. 416 (2024) (upholding the constitutionality of the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau); Secs. and Exch. Comm’n v. Jarkesy, 603 U.S. 109 (2024) (holding that the Seventh Amendment requires jury trials in SEC enforcement actions).

Scholars have recently called for a change. “If scholars can better understand the characteristics of firms and the attitudes of managers that promote legal strategy,” Robert Bird has argued, “both scholars and managers can devise ways to capture value from the legal environment that have never been previously considered.”269Bird, supra note 267, at 65. He concludes that “law and strategy research can contribute much to both disciplines and can produce beneficial insights for scholars, practitioners, and managers alike.”270Id. For example, a full picture of the interaction between corporate counsel and regulators must account for business strategy decisions.271Id. at 80–89. Fortunately, a law-and-strategy line of legal scholarship is emerging.272As one of us has previously argued, general counsel and compliance departments need to better understand how business professionals operate and the incentives that motivate them. Todd Haugh & Suneal Bedi, Valuing Corporate Compliance, 109 Iowa L. Rev. 541, 601 (2024) (“While most legal and compliance scholarship views the law as distinct from management, marketing, sales, operations, or any other business unit, we have conceptualized compliance as part and parcel of business strategy.”). Some prominent examples of law and strategy scholarship include: David Orozco, Legal Knowledge as an Intellectual Property Management Resource, 47 Am. Bus. L.J. 687, 687–94 (2010); Constance E. Bagley, What’s Law Got to Do with It: Integrating Law and Strategy, 47 Am. Bus. L.J. 587, 587–89 (2010); Robert C. Bird, The Many Futures of Legal Strategy, 47 Am. Bus. L.J. 575, 575–76 (2010); Robert C. Bird & Stephen Kim Park, Turning Corporate Compliance into Competitive Advantage, 19 U. Pa. J. Bus. L. 285, 286–90 (2017). Other scholars (including one of us) similarly contend that laws and legal principles are important for marketing and product developers to understand so that they may better drive consumer demand to their products.273See Haugh & Bedi, supra note 272, at 544–45 (arguing that legal decisions like compliance have implications for profit-making, in particular for marketing and product design). Still others have argued that litigation can be a type of bullying to capture market power.274See Orozco, supra note 213, at 138–45.

This Article responds to the call of various legal scholars to engage with strategic decision-making in addition to legal decision-making.275“Legal issues may be one of the most important determinants in a firm’s external operating environment. Law is likely the last great source of untapped competitive advantage.” Bird, supra note 267, at 64; see also Larry Downes, First, Empower All the Lawyers, Harv. Bus. Rev., Dec. 2004, at 1075, 1076–82. We provide a new lens for legal scholars to study how laws impact business strategy. This framework can help scholars address business litigation writ large, including private law disputes (such as the antitrust, patent, and Lanham Act disputes we have discussed) as well as high-profile public law disputes that grab headlines at the Supreme Court.276See Bird, supra note 267.

B. Business Scholars and Businesses

Just as legal scholars have mostly ignored business scholars’ insights about law and strategy, the business and finance academy has mostly overlooked litigation finance.277There are a few notable exceptions, including Antill & Grenadier, supra note 55, at 225 (providing a theoretical game theory model on how litigation finance effects litigation outcomes) and Andrew F. Daughety and Jennifer F. Reinganum, The Effect of Third-Party Funding of Plaintiffs on Settlement, 104 Am. Econ. Rev. 2552, 2552–55 (2014). This Article contends that litigation finance is ripe for business scholarship, too.

A few avenues of research are likely to be fruitful. First, litigation finance is relatively unique in the nonmarket strategy context as it implicates adaptive, transformative, and additive strategies. Most business scholarship focuses on corporate strategies that are one-dimensional. Litigation finance is also unique because it is the subject of a push-and-pull of nonmarket strategies: some companies are using litigation finance as a nonmarket strategy to improve their market position, while others are pushing back against funding to preserve their own position.

Second, there is a dearth of empirical scholarship on litigation finance.278There are a few notable exceptions. See David S. Abrams & Daniel L. Chen, A Market for Justice: A First Empirical Look at Third Party Litigation Funding, 15 U. Pa. J. Bus. L. 1075, 1076–82 (2013); Ronen Avraham & Anthony Sebok, An Empirical Investigation of Third Party Consumer Litigant Funding, 104 Cornell L. Rev. 1133, 1133–43 (2019); Paul Fenn & Neil Rickman, The Empirical Analysis of Litigation Funding in New Trends in Financing Civil Litigation in Europe: A Legal, Empirical, and Economic Analysis 131, 131–48 (2010). The literature that has explored the instrument empirically has, unsurprisingly, focused on dependent variables relevant to the legal system, including the number, type, and outcome of funded cases.279See id. The framework presented in this Article suggests business scholars should also explore various business-focused dependent variables, including investment returns, weighted cost of capital, market power, and so on. Our framework can be a foundation on which scholars can evaluate the efficacy of these nonmarket strategies.

In addition to business scholarship, our framework here should provide businesses themselves with new strategies to create economic value. We have identified for firms the types of nonmarket strategies they can leverage. While we have identified several ways companies leverage litigation finance to drive economic value, we suspect that there are many unexplored strategies. By retooling litigation finance as a strategic endeavor and not just a legal one, companies may improve their ability to compete not only in the courtroom but in the market too.

  Conclusion

This Article shifts the vantage point for analyzing litigation finance from the courthouse to the market square. The extensive scholarship on litigation finance has focused only on funding’s impact on the civil justice system. We argue that scholars and policymakers must also grapple with funding’s impact on capital markets and the business marketplace. To make this point, we use an interdisciplinary approach, drawing on business strategy literature about nonmarket strategies that has been largely ignored by legal scholars. Our framework identifies an entire set of funding’s policy implications in the market. It also offers new insights for the existing debate about how litigation finance affects the civil justice system. This approach provides a new lens for scholars and regulators struggling with how to study and regulate funding.

 

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1379

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 *Associate Professor of Business Law & Ethics, Jerome Bess Faculty Fellow, Indiana University Kelley School of Business.

 †Lecturer in Law, University of Pennsylvania Carey Law School. For helpful comments, we are grateful to Tom Baker, Mathew Caulfield, Brian Fitzpatrick, Todd Haugh, Donald Kochan, Samir Parikh, Tony Sebok, Maya Steinitz, and Maria Glover. The authors would also like to thank the law review editors for their helpful edits and comments.