Notes Archives – Southern California Law Review

Controlling the Narrative: Government Speech and Book Bans in the Public Library

January 2026February 2026Kelcey Sholl*

INTRODUCTION

Books bring personal joy and potential for individual growth. “The right book put in the right hands at the right time, could change the course of a life or many lives.” ¹ But access to books is not just a matter of personal enrichment: books are essential sources of knowledge, and free access to that knowledge is fundamental to a successful, thriving democracy. Michael J. Barsanti, the former director of the Library Company, the first American library, pointed out that the Founders “knew that democracies were inherently fragile and that the only way you could sustain a democracy was by having an educated populace.”²

Access to literature thus empowers individuals to engage thoughtfully in public life and fosters critical thinking and informed decision-making. Sociological studies have identified that literature introduces students to current cultural issues, which can help them develop global awareness.³ Further, when readers vicariously experience the lives of others through literature, they gain the ability to look critically at the world by engaging with other points of view.⁴ The saying “knowledge itself is power,” first published in 1597,⁵ has endured over the centuries because its truth is undeniable—and it is precisely this truth that drives some individuals in governments and communities to fight to keep certain books, and the power books hold, out of the public’s hands in an effort to control public discourse.

Libraries have become battlegrounds for partisan agendas. The concerted effort by State legislatures and citizen “activist” groups to ban certain books in schools⁶ is no longer confined to school classrooms but is spilling over into public libraries.⁷ This expansion of book bans from schools to libraries reflects an increasing desire to control public discourse and limit the availability of ideas that challenge the status quo. And by limiting access to certain books, these groups aim to control the public narrative and prevent the spread of ideas they perceive as threatening.

Efforts to ban books are rooted in fear—fear of ideas that challenge the status quo, of diverse perspectives, and of the power knowledge gives individuals to question public discourse, think critically about societal issues, and advocate for change.⁸ They are at the center of an ongoing culture war around “woke” ideology, and it is a serious constitutional concern.⁹ J.B. Pritzker, Governor of Illinois, has stated, “There are few perils to our democracy as dangerous as book bans” because “[t]hey threaten the very freedom of thought and speech that underpin our republic.”¹⁰ Book bans and censorship, therefore, threaten more than a personal freedom to read: they undermine the foundation of our democratic society by stifling an exchange of ideas that stem from the freedom to engage with diverse selections of ideas held within books.

This freedom of thought and speech is guaranteed by the First Amendment of the Constitution, which not only enshrines the rights to speak and publish, but also protects a wide range of mediums, including books, newspapers, art, music, clothing, and online content from political interference.¹¹ The U.S. Supreme Court and other lower courts have also established that the right to receive information is a fundamental extension of the right to free speech.¹² Book bans, which directly restrict access to ideas and information, therefore warrant close examination under the First Amendment.

This Note will focus on cases that have addressed book bans, including the 2025 Fifth Circuit case of Little v. Llano County and the 2024 Eighth Circuit case of GLBT Youth in Iowa Schools Task Force v. Reynolds. These cases are critically important because they are two of the first cases to make their way to federal courts of appeal amid a recent surge in litigation surrounding the proliferation of book bans. In addition, the defendants in both cases argued that library book curation constitutes government speech, which would render the government immune from First Amendment claims.

Little is particularly important due to its potential to severely limit First Amendment protections in the context of public libraries—spaces that historically play a vital role in providing access to diverse ideas and expression. The case is notable because after the Fifth Circuit panel originally ruled in favor of the plaintiffs and granted them an injunction due to the likelihood that they would prevail on the merits of a First Amendment violation, the decision was vacated to be heard en banc,¹³ with a plurality of the panel ruling on May 23, 2025, that library book curation is indeed government speech.¹⁴ The Little ruling created a circuit split on the issue, as the Eighth Circuit held in GLBT Youth that such an action is not government speech.¹⁵ The Fifth Circuit is widely viewed as one of the most conservative circuits in the nation that is willing to overturn longtime precedents,¹⁶ and in reaching its decision in Little, it has overturned Campbell v. St. Tammany Parish School Board, a thirty-year precedent that held books cannot be removed from libraries solely due to disagreement with the ideas they contain.¹⁷

With Little poised to make its way to the Supreme Court after plaintiffs petitioned the case for review, this Note will argue why the Supreme Court should grant certiorari and hold that library book curation is not government speech. The Supreme Court has not heard a book banning case since its 1982 non-binding, plurality decision in Board of Education v. Pico.¹⁸ This Note explores how the Pico decision could be strengthened. Specifically, it will advocate for distinguishing the important difference between public libraries and public-school libraries, confirming that book removal cannot be motivated by viewpoint discrimination, and providing guidance for determining when an action is motivated by viewpoint. This Note will then examine Little, arguing that the actions at issue in Little are, in fact, motivated by viewpoint discrimination. Finally, this Note will address the serious concerns and dangerous consequences of holding that library book curation is government speech—a new issue not presented in the Pico case—and will argue that the Court should clearly assert that it is not government speech.

This Note will refer to terminology including “bans” and “censors.” A book being “banned” traditionally and commonly refers to a book as being “removed from school curriculums [or] public libraries.”¹⁹ Censor, used as a verb, means to “examine in order to suppress” or “delete anything considered objectionable”; further, censor, used as a noun, is “a person who supervises conduct and morals.”²⁰ There are various methods in which a censor can censor or ban a book: (1) redaction, (2) restriction, and (3) relocation.²¹ Redaction refers to removing information within a book but keeping the book available for patrons. Restriction refers to removing the book altogether. Relocation refers to requiring a book to be shelved in a separate area that often requires permission to access.²² Overall, this Note will use the term “ban” to refer to a combination of restriction and relocation but does not focus on instances in which books have been redacted.

I. Board of education v. PICO

Although the Supreme Court has heard numerous First Amendment challenges, those addressing the restriction of access to books are limited.²³ The Court’s 1982 decision in Pico is the only opinion in which the Court has directly addressed the issue of book banning in libraries—particularly a school library.

The case revolves around a decision by the Island Trees school board to remove several books from its middle and high school libraries after obtaining a list of “objectionable” books from an organization called Parents of New York United (“PONYU”).²⁴ PONYU was a conservative organization of parents focused on education legislation in New York State.²⁵ The “objectionable” books included popular titles such as Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut and Go Ask Alice.²⁶ The school board characterized these books as “anti-American, anti-Christian, anti-[semitic], and just plain filthy,” and concluded that it was the board’s “moral obligation” to “protect the children in [their] schools from this moral danger as surely as from physical and medical dangers.”²⁷ Several students in the district, led by Steven Pico, challenged the removal of these books, arguing that the school board violated students’ First Amendment rights. They contended that the desire to suppress ideas that were politically and socially controversial was a form of viewpoint discrimination.

In its 5-4 plurality decision, the Court held that a school board’s removal of books could not be based on a desire to suppress ideas.²⁸ The Court did reason, however, that school boards have significant discretion in regulating the content of materials in their schools,²⁹ although this discretion was not unlimited.³⁰ The Pico decision was narrow in several respects: notably, it lacks the establishment of a standard to determine when book removals are in violation of the First Amendment because of viewpoint-based restriction. The Court left open the vague possibility that books could be removed for reasons such as vulgarity or lack of educational value, without offering guidance on how those reasons could be distinguished from pretextual justifications. While Pico was important for affirming that students have the constitutional right to receive information, and that school boards do not have unlimited authority to remove books, it leaves unanswered questions about when book removals violate the First Amendment.

Additionally, the case leaves open questions about whether the Pico school board’s actions—which closely resemble the actions Llano County took in its public library in Little—did in fact violate the First Amendment, given that the case was remanded and then settled with no holding based on the facts. Despite these limitations, Pico is an important precedent in the ongoing debate over book banning. Lower courts that have decided on similar issues have closely followed the Pico holding.³¹ For example, in the Fifth Circuit case Campbell v. St. Tammany Parish School Board, in which a school board removed books such as Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five, the Court held that public schools cannot censor books merely because they contain controversial or offensive content.³²

Considering the increasing number of book bans in the United States, there is a growing reason for strengthening the Pico decision. This Note will argue, as detailed above, that to strengthen the holding of Pico, the Court must distinguish the important difference between public libraries and public-school libraries. Additionally, given that Pico was a plurality opinion, the Court must reaffirm that book removal cannot be motivated by viewpoint discrimination in the context of libraries, and it must more clearly define the types of actions that constitute a violation of the First Amendment principle on viewpoint-based discrimination.

II. THE FIRST AMENDMENT

The First Amendment has been greatly revered over the course of American history and is considered by many to be the most influential and important amendment in the Bill of Rights.³³ The First Amendment guarantees “the people” freedom from government intervention in their right to free speech, which ensures the exchange of free ideas.³⁴ As with all rights, the First Amendment is not absolute; however, its central purpose lies in protecting the expression of unpopular ideas.³⁵

One of the key rationales behind vigorously protecting various forms of expression, including unpopular ideas, is the “marketplace of ideas.”³⁶ The phrase was first popularized by Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes in his 1919 dissent in Abrams v. United States.³⁷ The concept is grounded in the belief that for society to progress, “truth” will emerge only from the free exchange of ideas, which necessarily includes unpopular ones.³⁸ Ensuring that society can critically engage with competing viewpoints is therefore essential for individuals to evaluate the merits of different ideas and ultimately arrive at a better understanding of these “political truth[s].”³⁹

Importantly, the marketplace only functions when there is open debate and a free flow of information.⁴⁰ Holmes argued that the government should not have the power to suppress speech on the grounds that the speech is controversial or unpopular. In his view, the government should only step in when the speech poses a clear and imminent danger to the public or national security.⁴¹ Nearly a decade after his Abrams dissent, Justice Holmes joined Justice Brandeis in the latter’s concurring opinion for the famous 1927 case Whitney v. California, highlighting why the Founders believed strongly in protecting free speech:

[The Founders] believed that freedom to think as you will and to speak as you think are means indispensable to the discovery and spread of political truth; that without free speech and assembly discussion would be futile; that with them, discussion affords ordinarily adequate protection against the dissemination of noxious doctrine; that the greatest menace to freedom is an inert people; that public discussion is a political duty; and that this should be a fundamental principle of the American government.⁴²

Book bans are fundamentally incompatible with Holmes’s marketplace of ideas theory and the First Amendment protections that safeguard the right to create, distribute, and access written works without government interference. Public libraries play an important role in maintaining an open marketplace of ideas. Because libraries are institutions that provide knowledge and information to “the people,” they must contain a wide range of ideas available for exploration, free from government interference based on ideological or political preferences. Unchecked government interference in the marketplace of ideas will manipulate the flow of knowledge and ensure that only certain ideas are permitted to reach “the people.”

A. Viewpoint Discrimination

Part of the First Amendment’s speech-protecting safeguards is the protection against efforts to restrict speech based on the speech’s content or viewpoint.⁴³ The government is, in nearly all circumstances, prohibited from engaging in viewpoint discrimination.⁴⁴ In 1989, the Court held in Texas v. Johnson that “[i]f there is a bedrock principle underlying the First Amendment, it is that the government may not prohibit the expression of an idea simply because society finds the idea itself offensive or disagreeable.”⁴⁵

A law is considered viewpoint-based if it restricts speech due to a specific ideology, opinion, or perspective expressed by its speaker, rather than regulating speech based on content-neutral criteria.⁴⁶ Viewpoint discrimination is particularly dangerous because if permitted, the government is able to silence certain viewpoints based solely on subjective disapproval, which undermines the foundational prohibition on government censorship of speech with which the government disagrees.

In the context of book bans, viewpoint discrimination occurs when government actors remove or restrict access to books because they disagree with the ideas those books express, rather than because of neutral concerns such as age-appropriateness or educational relevance. This often happens when books are targeted for addressing topics that some find controversial, such as race, politics, or sexuality. For example, the removal of books that discuss LGBTQ+ identities or systemic racism reflects viewpoint discrimination when those books are excluded specifically to suppress those perspectives, while books expressing more politically favored viewpoints remain available.

B. Government Speech

Despite the Court interpreting the First Amendment to prohibit viewpoint discrimination, the government-speech doctrine exempts the government from the usual First Amendment restrictions on content- and viewpoint-based speech limitations, allowing it to engage in such discrimination.⁴⁷ The concept of government speech was articulated in the 1991 case Rust v. Sullivan, even though the term “government-speech” was not utilized in the opinion.⁴⁸

In Rust, the Court upheld a government regulation that any healthcare professional receiving Title X funding was prohibited from providing information about abortion, consequently limiting what healthcare professionals were permitted to say to their patients about abortion.⁴⁹ The Court reasoned that because the government is not obligated to fund all viewpoints, and because it has the ability to select which programs to fund (here, family-planning that excluded abortion), the government’s actions would inevitably conflict with the perspectives of other programs it chooses to promote.⁵⁰ Essentially, the government should be able to communicate its own messages or express its own policies and particular viewpoints without violating the First Amendment.⁵¹ Two decades later, in the 2009 case Pleasant Grove City v. Summum, the Court identified government speech when actions are “meant to convey and have the effect of conveying a government message.”⁵² In 2022’s Shurtleff v. City of Boston, the Court applied various factors to determine if governmental action is in fact government speech: (1) “the history of the expression at issue”; (2) “the public’s likely perception as to who (the government or a private person) is speaking”; and (3) “the extent to which the government has actively shaped or controlled the expression.”⁵³

While there may be some truth to the idea that effective governance would be impossible if the government were unable to support or oppose certain viewpoints when implementing programs,⁵⁴ scholars have noted an inherent contradiction between the government speech doctrine and the First Amendment:

To satisfy traditional First Amendment tests, the government must show that it is not discriminating against a viewpoint. And yet if the government shows that it is condemning or supporting a viewpoint, it may be able to invoke the government speech defense and thereby avoid constitutional scrutiny altogether. Government speech doctrine therefore rewards what the rest of the First Amendment forbids: viewpoint discrimination against private speech.⁵⁵

Seemingly for this reason, the Court has warned that courts should “exercise great caution before extending . . . government-speech precedents.”⁵⁶

C. Minor’s Right to Free Speech

An individual’s status as a minor cannot serve as a blanket justification for censorship. The Supreme Court has recognized that minors enjoy a degree of expressive liberty under the First Amendment, although it is not as expansive as that of adults.⁵⁷ In Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District, the Court famously held that students do not “shed their constitutional rights to freedom of speech or expression at the schoolhouse gate.”⁵⁸ Also, in Erznoznik v. City of Jacksonville, the Court held that lawmakers cannot suppress speech for the sole purpose of shielding minors from ideas they do not find appropriate.⁵⁹

III. HISTORY AND PURPOSE OF PUBLIC LIBRARIES

Libraries have long stood as pillars of American civic life, serving the public as “forums for information and ideas.”⁶⁰ Founding Father Benjamin Franklin championed the first iteration of the American library system in 1731 with the founding of the Library Company of Philadelphia, which permitted individuals to borrow books for a fee.⁶¹ By 1800, this concept grew in popularity, and there were over forty fee-based libraries established across the United States.⁶² In his autobiography, Franklin highlighted the important role libraries play in the furtherance of democracy, noting how the Library Company “improved the general conversation of the Americans” and “made the common tradesmen and farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen from other countries.”⁶³

Today, there are more than 9,000 libraries in the United States.⁶⁴ Although libraries had long served a public civic role, the role was formally embedded in public life through tax-funded libraries, beginning in 1833, when the Peterborough Town Library in New Hampshire became the first such institution in the United States.⁶⁵ While the libraries of Franklin’s era were far from the inclusive institutions we strive for today, the heart and soul of the library’s purpose has remained and grown. Libraries serve our society as equalizers, ensuring access to knowledge for all regardless of background or circumstances while strengthening the democratic foundation of society.⁶⁶

For instance, consider libraries in the mid-19th century. As industrialization and urbanization took shape during this period, there was a significant expansion of subscription libraries and public library systems, fueled in part by demand from the working class and their employers for self-education.⁶⁷ Employers funded libraries as investments in an “efficient . . . working class,” and trade-specific libraries such as the Mechanics’ Institute opened to “stretch the mind and teach new skills.”⁶⁸ One such proponent of expanding libraries to the working class was Andrew Carnegie, who provided an employee library at one of his steel plants in Pennsylvania.⁶⁹ Carnegie became one of the richest men in the world for his role in oil, steel, and railroads, and used much of his wealth for philanthropic endeavors⁷⁰—one of which was the creation of a free public library system. He referred to libraries as “palaces for the people”⁷¹ and spent more than $56 million to create more than 2,500 libraries.⁷² He worked with local governments to establish government-funded libraries, for which he donated buildings through a grant. Localities then instituted taxes to fund the libraries’ operations and acquisitions of books.⁷³

Emily Knox, a professor at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign who researches censorship and library science, has stated that a guiding principle embraced by librarians is the “right of every individual to both seek and receive information from all points of view without restriction.”⁷⁴ This commitment to receiving information has been evident for more than a century. In a brief New York Times article from 1918 titled Not a Public Library Ban, the director of the New York Public Library (“NYPL”) sought to dispel any suggestion of censorship by responding to claims cited in an earlier article that a patron had been denied access to The Unpardonable Sin. He clarified that the book was available and requested identifying information about the individual who had suggested otherwise.⁷⁵ This early defense of open access underscores the long-standing dedication of libraries to resisting censorship and ensuring the public’s right to access information. Later, in response to “growing intolerance, suppression of free speech, and censorship affecting the rights of minorities and individuals,” the American Library Association adopted its first Library Bill of Rights in 1939, emphasizing that libraries are neutral spaces for the free exchange of ideas.⁷⁶ David Leonard, President of the Boston Public Library (the third largest library behind the Library of Congress and the NYPL) states that “Free to All”—as is inscribed on many of the library buildings—“encapsulates what we [are] all about.”⁷⁷

The evolution of libraries from small lending collections to vast public institutions reflects a commitment to ensuring that information remains accessible to all, without government interference or ideological gatekeeping. At their core, libraries represent a belief in the power of knowledge to uplift individuals and strengthen society. However, this very openness and inclusivity have made them a target for those who seek to control the flow of information. The ongoing battle over book removals and censorship in libraries threatens to undermine these fundamental principles that have endured since this country’s founding. The fight to keep libraries truly “free to all” is not just about books—it is about preserving the foundational freedoms on which this country was built.

IV. HISTORY OF BOOK BANS AND CENSORSHIP

The banning of books and the censorship of ideas are not new phenomena. Both have persisted throughout the course of human history. In 213 B.C., Chinese emperor Qin Shi Huang ordered various books of poetry and history to be burned;⁷⁸ Ovid, a Roman poet, was banished from Rome in A.D. 8 for his The Art of Love; in 1526 England, thousands of copies of the New Testament were burned; for more than 400 years from 1564 to 1966, the Catholic Church maintained the Index Librorum Prohibitorum—Index of Prohibited Books—that forbade Catholics from reading books by authors such as Victor Hugo, John Locke, and Jean-Paul Sartre; and from 1788 to 1820, King George banned Shakespeare’s King Lear from stage performance.⁷⁹ In modern times, book banning has steadily continued. In 1939, John Steinbeck’s novel The Grapes of Wrath was removed from a Kansas City library for being “indecent”;⁸⁰ during the Nazi regime, thousands of books including Jack London’s The Call of the Wild and numerous Ernest Hemmingway titles were banned and burned;⁸¹ in the 1980s, Beatrix Potter’s The Tale of Peter Rabbit was banned from schools in London County, England; in 1987, at a North Carolina high school, Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings was removed from the required reading list;⁸² lastly, Toni Morrison’s Beloved has been included in the American Library Association’s top ten most challenged books of the year list seven times since 2006.⁸³ While justifications for banning books may evolve to reflect the politics and ideologies of a particular time, those who seek to control what others can read share similar claims of acting in the interest of morality, public order, or protecting children as their reasons for book banning.

Although bans are not new, “[they are] definitely getting worse.”⁸⁴ The American Library Association’s Office for Intellectual Freedom documented 4,240 unique titles challenged in 2023, making it a 65% increase from 2,571 titles in 2022.⁸⁵ This was the highest level since the organization began tracking twenty years ago.⁸⁶ Comparatively, the number of unique titles challenged in 2014, just over 10 years ago, was 235.⁸⁷ In 2020, the number of unique titles was still less than 300, but that number shot up to 1,858 in 2021 and has been growing since.⁸⁸ Between July 2021 and June 2023, PEN America reported that 5,894 books have been banned across 41 states.⁸⁹ The trend is most prominent in “Republican-leaning” states—Florida and Iowa had the most book bans from 2023 to 2024⁹⁰—reflecting an increasingly organized and politically motivated effort to control access to literature.

The motivations behind banning books often stem from deeply rooted psychological and sociological factors—“an act of control[] driven by . . . fear.”⁹¹ Emily Knox, who studies book banning and censorship, reported that communities try to ban books because words have power, and words can change who an individual is.⁹² Throughout history, censorship has been a tool for controlling narratives.⁹³ Economic and social turmoil often lead to widespread efforts to restrict the rights of marginalized individuals,⁹⁴ and silencing their voices by restricting their access to books is a powerful tool for accomplishing this goal. There is a desire to preserve societal norms, and restricting books keeps them away from readers whom censors fear might be “changed” by their content.⁹⁵ Encountering ideas that may conflict with an individual’s deeply held beliefs can create a mental discomfort that many avoid by challenging books that challenge their worldview.⁹⁶ “Activist” groups pushing for parents to challenge books often use the term “indoctrination” to describe book content they object to—instead of the word “education”—to emphasize that their worldview does not comport with the worldview expressed by the challenged book.⁹⁷ Because books introduce unfamiliar and challenging ideas that may be uncommon in certain communities or regions, the differing views and lives represented in the pages of the challenged book are often seen as a threat.⁹⁸ Thus, individuals justify restricting these ideas as a desire to protect readers from radical ideas.⁹⁹

V. PROLIFERATION OF BANS AND LEGISLATION

The rise in book bans has become a significant national issue, sparking debate regarding parental rights and minors’ First Amendment rights. As of 2022, more than one-hundred bills have been proposed for various forms of book banning at the state level.¹⁰⁰ Florida’s HB 1557, also known as the “Parental Rights in Education” law and referred to by opponents as the “Don’t Say Gay” law, restricts discussions of sexual orientation and gender identity in certain grade levels.¹⁰¹ With respect to book banning, the Florida law increases the ease with which parents, or any resident, can object to books used in classrooms and school libraries.¹⁰² It requires school districts to house an “objection form” on the school district’s homepage website, and directs districts to remove books objected to as “pornographic” within five days of receiving an objection.¹⁰³ Charlotte County school district, acting on the law, prohibited books with LGBTQ+ characters in all schools with limited exceptions for high schools; Charlotte’s superintendent and school attorney stated, “These characters and themes cannot exist.”¹⁰⁴ Two years after the enactment of this law, Florida was required through a settlement to provide direction to schools regarding the scope of the legislation; subsequently, it has been clarified that the law does not apply to libraries in which no educational instruction is taking place.¹⁰⁵

In addition, Texas’ HB 900, the READER Act, attempted to enact stringent guidelines on educational materials by requiring school book vendors to rate books that contain “sexually explicit” or “sexually relevant” content in order to restrict access to these books.¹⁰⁶ Specifically, the Act required book publishers, bookstores, and internet-based book retailers to rate books in active use that they sold to public schools.¹⁰⁷ These independent, private entities received minimal guidance on how to implement the ratings despite the fact that books labeled by the sellers as “sexually explicit” would consequently be removed from public school libraries.¹⁰⁸ In May of 2024, the Fifth Circuit in Book People v. Wong upheld a district court injunction that held the READER Act to be unconstitutionally vague and compelled speech.¹⁰⁹ The legislation in Florida and Texas have served as models for similar measures in other states such as Arizona, Missouri, Tennessee, and Idaho, signaling a broad trend.¹¹⁰

Much of the book banning debate has focused on public school libraries and academic curriculum choices, but there has been a growing trend in regulation and litigation regarding public community libraries. For instance, Llano County in Texas and Pasco County in Florida have begun expanding book banning efforts from school libraries to community libraries. For example, in September of 2024, Pasco County removed 130 children’s books with LGBTQ+ content from its community library.¹¹¹ In January of 2025, South Carolina introduced a bill in its state senate requiring libraries to certify each quarter that they “do not offer books or materials in children’s, youth, or teen sections that might be considered sexually inappropriate” in order to receive state funding they need.¹¹² In April of 2024, Idaho passed House Bill 710 to require that books deemed harmful to children be relocated to “adult only” areas in public community libraries,¹¹³ causing some rural libraries to respond by prohibiting children’s access to libraries altogether because their libraries are too small for a separate section.¹¹⁴

Critics of the laws that restrict access to books contend that they infringe upon First Amendment rights, including the right to receive information. They argue that these regulations constitute censorship and limit readers’ exposure to diverse perspectives. The debate centers on whether a state government’s interest in shielding children from content it deems inappropriate outweighs a broader societal commitment to the free exchange of ideas.¹¹⁵ States that are traditionally more liberal are responding to this increase in bans by enacting “anti-book ban” laws for both school and community libraries.¹¹⁶ California, Illinois, Minnesota, Maryland, and New Jersey have all enacted protective laws,¹¹⁷ and in June of 2023, Illinois became the first state to enact legislation that outlaws book bans.¹¹⁸ The Illinois law requires libraries to create formal policies or adopt the American Library Association’s Bill of Rights that asserts books could not be removed because of partisan disapproval.¹¹⁹ More states are beginning to introduce protective measures. In February of 2025, for example, a bill was introduced in the New York State Assembly to prohibit libraries from banning books based on “partisan or doctrinal disapproval.”¹²⁰

This proliferation of legislation and regulation has received federal attention, with hearings in both the House Committee on Oversight and Reform in 2022 (entitled “Free Speech Under Attack”) and in the Senate Committee on the Judiciary in 2023 (called “Book Bans: Examining How Censorship Limits Liberty and Literature”).¹²¹ Supporters of states’ legislation and regulation limiting access to books argue that governments have the authority to regulate access to content deemed inappropriate and to protect children from material they consider harmful.¹²² These arguments often frame the issue as one of parental rights.¹²³ In the 2023 Senate Judiciary hearing, the committee heard from five “witnesses” with varying points of view on the issue. Nicole Neily, one of the hearing’s witnesses and President of “Parents Defending Education,” stated before the committee that “families’ concerns about books in schools is not ‘book banning.’ ”¹²⁴ She indicated that their concern with “age appropriate[ness]” is not “radical,”¹²⁵ and stated that the debate around book banning “is a manufactured crisis that distracts from families’ valid concerns about the quality of their children’s education and whether students are safe from drugs, assaults, and bullying in schools today.”¹²⁶ Neily, betraying her own argument that this is about children’s safety and not her own disapproval of LGBTQ+ content, concluded, “Please listen to the concerns of families who want their children to learn basic grammar, rather than be policed on pronouns.”¹²⁷

On the other hand, those against the book ban legislation and regulation argue that it is a violation of First Amendment rights and a threat to democracy. Illinois Secretary of State Alexi Giannoulias spoke about his initiation of House Bill 2789, which proposed that Illinois libraries will not receive funding if they ban books:

This legislation is important because both the concept and the practice of “banning books” contradicts the very essence of what our country stands for and what our democracy was founded on. It also defies what education is all about: [t]eaching our children to think for themselves. If the book banners care to, they can go to our libraries and check out the Federalist Papers, the U.S. Constitution and even Supreme Court cases on the First Amendment. What they will learn is that our democracy depends on the “marketplace of ideas.” That “marketplace of ideas” will not function if we ban books—because we will be banning ideas and preventing our children from thinking for themselves and having the ability to debate [and] learn [and] understand different perspectives.

[ . . . ]

I could never imagine a world where I would tell another family what books their kids should or should not be allowed to read.¹²⁸

This surge in book bans is an extension of broader culture wars currently gripping the nation, particularly around issues of “wokeism,” so-called “traditional” family values, and the targeting of transgender individuals by conservative politicians.¹²⁹ These bans reflect a systematic effort to reshape public discourse by restricting access to materials that address topics such as LGBTQ+ identities, systemic racism, or gender diversity. On January 24, 2025, the U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights announced the elimination of its book ban coordinator position, which had been established in June of 2023 to investigate complaints regarding school removals of books claimed to be “racially divisive.” Along with eliminating the position, the department dismissed eleven related complaints, stating that the concerns over book bans were a “hoax” and a “false narrative” perpetuated by then-President Biden.¹³⁰ Additionally, on February 7, 2025, the Department of Defense (“DoD”) announced that it would be reviewing books “potentially related to gender ideology or discriminatory equity ideology topics” in DoD-funded schools located in seven states and eleven countries.¹³¹ The DoD removed books from these school classrooms and libraries, including titles such as Freckleface Strawberry written by actress Julianne Moore about a young girl learning to accept her freckles and No Truth Without Ruth, a biography about Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.¹³²

One of the activist groups leading the charge on book restrictions is Moms for Liberty.¹³³ Moms for Liberty was founded in 2021 and began by speaking out against mask mandates and COVID vaccination requirements in schools. It later shifted gears to focus on the ways in which topics related to LGBTQ+ individuals, racism, and religion are presented in schools.¹³⁴ The group is similar to that of PONYU discussed earlier in regard to the Pico case, and the Southern Poverty Law Center has compared Moms for Liberty to “pro-segregationist parent groups that flourished in the wake of . . . Brown v. Board of Education.”¹³⁵ The group’s influence, for example, led to a parent in South Carolina sending a list of ninety-seven books to her child’s school district for removal in early 2024. The list of books was obtained from a site called “Book Looks,” which was created by a former member of Moms for Liberty to enable parents to “find out what objectionable content may be in [their] child’s book before they do.”¹³⁶ The school librarian was subjected to numerous threats from parents who wanted to turn the librarian in to the police and the FBI for distributing pornography, despite the school having a program in which parents could fill out an opt-out form so their children would not be able to access the book.¹³⁷ Similarly, in the year preceding the enactment of the Idaho House Bill 710 discussed earlier, the Idaho Falls Library received twenty-one complaints from a group called “Parents Against Bad Books.”¹³⁸

Although framed by supporters and activist groups as measures to protect children and uphold parental rights, these laws reflect fears that exposure to certain ideas undermine “traditional” family values. Critics argue that these actions amount to censorship, threaten and violate First Amendment rights by limiting access to diverse perspectives, and politicize public spaces like libraries that are supposed to function as neutral fora for freedom of thought and expression. Art Spiegelman, a Pulitzer Prize winner and author of widely banned book Maus, a graphic novel depicting his father’s survival of the Holocaust, says of the current situation, “It [i]s a culture war that [i]s totally out of control.”¹³⁹

VI. PROLIFERATION OF LAWSUITS

There have been numerous legal challenges to legislation and book removals in schools and libraries. However, this Note focuses on two cases that have specifically raised government speech arguments and have gone before the appellate courts: the Eighth Circuit case of GLBT Youth in Iowa Schools Task Force v. Reynolds and the Fifth Circuit case of Little v. Llano County. Notably, a newer case, PEN America Center, Inc. v. Escambia County School District, has been ongoing in front of the Northern District of Florida, in which the school district is also advancing a government speech argument.¹⁴⁰ This represents a possibility for this argument to now make its way through the Eleventh Circuit.

A. Eighth Circuit: GLBT Youth in Iowa Schools Task Force v. Reynolds

In 2023, Iowa enacted Senate File 496 (“SF496”), a contentious law that reshaped policies governing public school libraries and classrooms.¹⁴¹ The legislation introduced significant restrictions and prohibitions such as requirements to remove books deemed age-inappropriate from school libraries.¹⁴² Two lawsuits emerged in response to SF496. The first was brought by GLBT Youth in Iowa Schools Task Force, a group of students who asserted that SF496 violated the First Amendment. The second lawsuit was brought by Penguin Random House, authors, and educators, who raised similar First Amendment violations. Because “both cases related to the same legislation . . . and had considerable overlap such that the cases would benefit from joint administration,” the District Court for the Southern District of Iowa consolidated the cases.¹⁴³

In response to the plaintiffs, the State argued that the removal of books from school libraries constituted government speech, which is not subject to First Amendment viewpoint-neutrality requirements when the government speaks on its own behalf.¹⁴⁴ The District Court then issued a preliminary injunction on SF496 due to the likelihood that the law violated the First Amendment.¹⁴⁵ On appeal, the Eighth Circuit Court of Appeals overturned the district court’s injunction but, importantly, rejected the application of the government speech doctrine while noting that the Supreme Court has not held that library curation is government speech.¹⁴⁶ Also, applying the Shurtleff factors, discussed earlier in Section II.B, the Eighth Circuit stated that the public does not typically associate this activity with government action, as the library usually hosts a broad and diverse set of materials instead of a curated set of government-endorsed messages.¹⁴⁷ Additionally, Iowa has not historically exercised significant control over the selection and removal of books from libraries, and the Supreme Court has directed the use of caution when extending the doctrine of government speech.¹⁴⁸

B. Fifth Circuit: Little v. Llano County

In August of 2021, three Llano County, Texas, residents, Rochelle Wells, Eva Carter, and Jo Ares, filed complaints with Judge Ron Cunningham, head of Llano County Commissioners Court, which supervises the Llano County library system, about children’s library books that they found to be “pornographic and overly sexual.”¹⁴⁹ Wells, in order to prevent others in the community from checking out books she deemed unacceptable, checked them out continuously for months. Cunningham then directed the librarian to remove these books from Llano County library shelves.¹⁵⁰

Several months later, another community member sent Cunningham a list of books that she found objectionable, calling them “pornographic filth.”¹⁵¹ Cunningham further instructed the librarian to remove these additional books. In total, the library removed seventeen books by the end of 2021, and these books became accessible only if an individual asked the librarian for them. However, the books were not listed in the catalog system, making it impossible to know if the books were available for checkout.¹⁵²

In 2022, the library board dissolved, and Cunningham appointed Wallace and Wells to the new board. The new board prohibited the Llano County librarian from attending the board’s meetings and required her to obtain approval for any new books she sought to include in the library.¹⁵³ Subsequently, plaintiffs brought suit in the United States District Court for the Western District of Texas and alleged that their First Amendment rights had been violated because the book removals occurred based on the defendants’ disagreement with the content of the books.

In March of 2023, Judge Robert Pittman of the United States District Court for the Western District of Texas issued a preliminary injunction, concluding that the plaintiffs were likely to succeed on the merits of their First Amendment claim based on viewpoint discrimination. The Court mandated the return of the book titles in question and prohibited further removal of books while the case proceeded.¹⁵⁴ The decision was initially affirmed by a 2-1 Fifth Circuit panel but was quickly vacated and ordered to be heard en banc.¹⁵⁵ Notably, the panel dissent endorsed the government speech argument.¹⁵⁶

Oral arguments before the en banc court took place in September of 2024 and opened with the lawyer for Llano County, Jonathan Mitchell, arguing that the Court should overturn Campbell v. St. Tammany Parish School Board, previously discussed in this Note’s Section I. Campbell held that the constitutionality of removing books from a library hinges on the substantial motivation of officials involved. Specifically, Campbell ruled that decisions driven by a desire to suppress certain viewpoints or ideas violate the First Amendment. This holding closely aligns with the plurality’s reasoning in Pico.

Mitchell and the County argued that library decisions to acquire, retain, or remove books are choices that should be categorized as government speech—and thus should be exempt from restrictions on viewpoint discrimination.¹⁵⁷ Drawing on Moody v. NetChoice LLC,¹⁵⁸ the County compared the library’s book collection to “speech that belongs to the curator,” asserting that the inclusion or exclusion of particular materials is expression.¹⁵⁹ They compared the content selected in libraries to a curated broadcast or a social media page, which is deemed expressive activity.¹⁶⁰ The defendants argued that by exercising discretion over library content, the government is communicating its own message about what is appropriate for the community it serves. Under this framework, the decision regarding the removal of books would be insulated from a First Amendment challenge.

Plaintiffs countered that holding library curation to be government speech would “recast government censorship as protected affirmative speech” and “expand the government’s power to extinguish controversial ideas.”¹⁶¹ They argued that the act of curating library books is not government speech because it does not meet the Supreme Court’s test from Shurtleff v. Boston. Specifically: (1) the county has not historically censored books based on viewpoint; (2) the public does not perceive the government to be speaking because the books provide for conflicting views; and (3) the county has not engaged in viewpoint curation for every book in the library.¹⁶²

The en banc panel overruled Campbell and a plurality held that library book curation is government speech in their final ruling on May 23, 2025.¹⁶³ On September 9, 2025, the attorneys for plaintiffs, now notably including Elizabeth Prelogar, the former Solicitor General of the United States, filed a petition for a writ of certiorari.¹⁶⁴

VII. BOOK BANNING CASES ARE HEADED TO THE SUPREME COURT

The Supreme Court should grant certiorari in Little because of the unresolved legal questions stemming from Pico, the steady rise in legislation targeting book removals, and the newly divided circuits on government speech. Pico established that school boards cannot remove books solely because they disagree with their ideas, but the fractured nature of the ruling left room for interpretation—especially regarding the distinction between school and public libraries. Now, with a circuit split on whether library book curation constitutes government speech, the need for Supreme Court clarification is even greater. The Fifth Circuit’s decision in Little directly contradicts the Eighth Circuit’s ruling in GLBT, which held that library curation is not government speech. If courts allow the government to claim that book removals are a form of government speech, it will fundamentally reshape public libraries by transforming them from spaces of free inquiry into spaces of government-endorsed messages. Given the implications for First Amendment rights and the increasing legal battles over library censorship, the Supreme Court will likely need to resolve these critical constitutional issues.

A. Decades-Old Nonbinding Supreme Court Plurality Opinion In Pico, Revisited

As previously discussed in Section I, Pico involved the removal of several books from a public school library, in which the school board argued that the books were “anti-American” and “vulgar.”¹⁶⁵ In its plurality opinion, the Court held that there was a genuine issue of material fact as to whether the school board’s removal of the books violated the First Amendment.¹⁶⁶ Justice Brennan, joined by Justice Marshall and Justice Stevens, held that the books could not be removed solely because of the government’s disagreement with the ideas contained in the books. A plurality of the Justices also reaffirmed that students have a right to receive information protected by the First Amendment, even in a school setting.¹⁶⁷ However, the Pico decision left room for discretion on the part of the schools, in that they could remove books deemed educationally unsuitable. As in, removal would be permissible if it was based on educational suitability rather than ideological disapproval.

The Justices differed on the legal standard for determining when a school could remove books. Justice Blackmun concurred in the judgment but did not agree that the right to receive information was a necessary consideration.¹⁶⁸ Justice White concurred in the judgment only and would have held that there was a genuine issue of material fact without identifying the viewpoint limitation on school boards.¹⁶⁹ As mentioned throughout this Note, the fractured nature of the Pico ruling—in addition to the rise in legislation on book banning—indicates that lower courts will now need clarification from the Supreme Court on the standards of book removal in school and public libraries.

B. The Supreme Court Has Not Yet Differentiated Between School Libraries And Public Libraries

School libraries and public libraries both play essential roles in supporting free speech, but they differ in scope when it comes to book removal challenges. Public libraries are community institutions that serve people of all ages and provide access to a vast array of viewpoints and information. In contrast, school libraries function within an educational setting, where materials are evaluated based on curricular goals and suitability for students. Because of this distinction, parents have a greater influence over school libraries as they have a recognized right to direct their children’s upbringing.¹⁷⁰ However, this parental right does not extend to controlling what is available in a public library, where individuals—children and adults alike—retain personal autonomy over what they choose to read.

Public libraries operate on the principle of voluntary access. Unlike schools, in which students may be required to engage with certain materials, public library users have complete discretion over what they may choose to check out. If a parent does not want their child reading a particular book, they can simply prevent their child from borrowing it without imposing that decision on the rest of the community. This opt-in nature of public libraries makes government-imposed book removals particularly troubling, as these removals do not merely reflect an effort to structure a child’s education, but also limit access to information for everyone in the community.

Pico narrowly addressed book removals in school libraries, but the differences between school and public libraries demand a more nuanced legal approach. The dissent in Pico expressed concerns about a school board’s ability to maintain control over the educational environment, but that is not relevant here.¹⁷¹ How might the dissent have ruled had this been a community library? The fact that Pico left these unresolved questions highlights the need for clearer guidance from the Supreme Court on how book removal standards apply to public libraries. Furthermore, the Supreme Court should uphold an even stronger determination against viewpoint discrimination than it did in Pico, given the dangers posed by an expanded understanding of the government speech doctrine, as discussed in Section D below.

C. Llano County’s Book Removals Are Viewpoint Discrimination

Although Pico held that books cannot be removed from school libraries solely because of disagreement with the ideas they contain, the case was remanded for further proceedings, and subsequent proceedings never determined whether the school board’s actions constituted viewpoint discrimination. After the remand, the school board faced pressure from 1,200 parents who petitioned to end the case and return the books to the library shelves.¹⁷² In response, the board reinstated the books and implemented a parental notification requirement for checking out these books. However, the Civil Liberties Union challenged this notification policy, arguing that it violated laws protecting confidentiality of library records.¹⁷³ Facing continued public pressure, with some parents even leaving the district over the issue, the school board eventually abandoned its efforts and restored all books to the shelves.¹⁷⁴

Book bans are unconstitutional when they are based on viewpoint discrimination.¹⁷⁵ The Supreme Court, however, has yet to articulate a clear standard for identifying when book removals cross the constitutional line. Supporters of book bans often claim that they are motivated by concerns about age appropriateness, but modern challenges overwhelmingly focus on specific themes and perspectives—particularly those related to race, gender, and sexuality¹⁷⁶—suggesting they are driven by ideological opposition rather than neutral educational concerns. For instance, in Georgia, a challenger criticized a book featuring a same-sex couple, stating, “Books like this [are] where teens get the idea that [same-sex relationships are] okay”¹⁷⁷—a clear expression of disagreement with the viewpoint that same-sex relationships are acceptable. Similarly, in Tennessee, a branch of Moms for Liberty opposed a book detailing the story of civil rights activist Ruby Bridges, written by Bridges herself, as teaching “anti-American values.”¹⁷⁸ In Idaho Falls, most of the twenty-one complaints that its public library received in 2023 were for books that dealt with LGBTQ+ characters or race.¹⁷⁹ LGBTQ+ books are frequently mischaracterized as being about sex, even when the content is entirely age-appropriate—such as the children’s picture book And Tango Makes Three, which tells the true story of two male penguins raising a chick together.¹⁸⁰

The rapid rise of book bans over the past several years is directly connected to the broader political efforts used to suppress discussions of race and gender. This trend is underscored by Donald Trump’s executive orders targeting diversity, equity, and inclusion (“DEI”) initiatives, which frequently incorporate books on these subjects. DEI programs are being vilified as promoting “antiwhite racism” and undermining “national unity.”¹⁸¹ Schools that receive federal funding are being threatened with withholding of those funds if they do not abandon their DEI programs.¹⁸² The 2025 DoD directive to remove books from DoD schools based on “gender” and “discriminatory equity” ideologies makes explicit the political-and viewpoint-based motivations behind the legislation targeting books in schools and libraries. The directive, echoing the Trump administration’s hostility toward DEI, is obviously rooted in content- and viewpoint-based discrimination. It is difficult to justify restricting access to children’s picture books about a girl with freckles or the life of Ruth Bader Ginsburg as anything but obvious partisan viewpoint censorship.

The same viewpoint-based targeting is evident in Little v. Llano County, making it an ideal case for the Supreme Court to clarify when book removals constitute unconstitutional viewpoint discrimination. The books removed from Llano County libraries overwhelmingly focus on LGBTQ+ identities and racial equity. County officials referred to these books as “pornographic filth” and “disgusting.” Similar to the school board defendants in Pico who used a list of books from an outside source to recommend books for removal because they disagreed with the contents, here, the defendants in Little created a list of books they “personally opposed,” including books that had been identified by an outside party as about “politics, race, sexuality, and gender.”¹⁸³ These books included Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, They Called Themselves the KKK: The Birth of an American Terrorist Group, Being Jazz: My Life as a (Transgender) Teen, and Freakboy, among others.¹⁸⁴

Several factors in Little make clear that the book removals were based on viewpoint discrimination. First, the targeted books overwhelmingly dealt with themes that have been politically contentious, indicating the removals were not neutral but ideological. Second, officials ignored standard library weeding procedures and instead relied on personal opposition and lists of objectionable books obtained from outside sources to justify removals.¹⁸⁵ Third, internal emails show that librarians did not agree with several of the removals and thought they might be “illegal.”¹⁸⁶

The Supreme Court has long recognized that the government cannot suppress speech simply because it disagrees with its message. Yet, the rise of book bans driven by ideological opposition demonstrates the need for a more explicit and enforceable standard. Little may present the Court with an opportunity to provide that clarity and reaffirm that viewpoint-based censorship in public libraries is unconstitutional. The Court must make clear that the specific targeting of LGBTQ+ and racial equity themes is a constitutional violation, and that not all books containing these themes are inherently age-inappropriate.

D. The Dangerous Rise of the Government Speech Argument

An issue that was not raised in the Pico case, but remains a serious and dangerous argument gaining prominence, is that of government speech. Should the Supreme Court grant certiorari to Little, affirm the Fifth Circuit’s decision to overrule Campbell, and hold that library book selection is government speech, the outcome of Little could have profound consequences. Holding that library book curation is government speech would fundamentally distort the marketplace of ideas, which is a fundamental building block of our country’s democracy.

As mentioned, the Eighth Circuit held in GLBT that library book curation is not government speech. Therefore, the Fifth Circuit’s plurality holding in Little that library book curation is government speech and its overturning of Campbell, which closely aligns with the Pico holding, make it very likely that the Supreme Court will grant certiorari. In the original Fifth Circuit opinion that was vacated, dissenting Judge Stuart Kyle Duncan wrote, “There is a simple answer to the question posed by this case: [a] public library’s choice of some books for its collection, and its rejection of others, is government speech.”¹⁸⁷ This split with the Eighth Circuit and divergence from Pico, the latter of which has been adhered to across circuits, requires clarification from the Court.

Seventeen states signed onto an amicus brief on behalf of Llano County endorsing defendants’ argument that library book curation is government speech. The states wrote, “The county’s decisions over which books to offer its patrons in its public libraries, at its own expense, are its own speech.”¹⁸⁸ In April of 2024, Florida made the government speech argument in PEN America v. Escambia County School District, in which a district judge held that whether library curation decisions are government speech is an unsettled matter.¹⁸⁹ Florida, one of the states to sign the amicus in Little, traveled to the Fifth Circuit to make the argument for government speech after Llano County yielded some of its speaking time to Florida.¹⁹⁰ In a social media post, The Florida Freedom to Read Project alerted followers to “pay attention” to the Little case; it stated that Florida would keep presenting this argument “until they find a friendly court.”¹⁹¹

Legal scholars have raised concerns about the ambiguous scope of the government speech doctrine and its potential to undermine First Amendment rights.¹⁹² Cases such as Little and GLBT are prime examples illustrating these scholars’ justified fears. The consequences of states characterizing library book curation as government speech would turn spaces dedicated to the free exploration of ideas into “silos of partisanship.”¹⁹³ Government speech is particularly serious in this context because, in the case of libraries, there are few other places where individuals can access such a breadth of ideas freely. Libraries are physical manifestations of the marketplace of ideas, where people can go to find information on nearly any topic they might think of with little to no cost. Allowing the government to pick and choose what ideas line the shelves based on viewpoint is directly removing those ideas from the marketplace. For instance, while Rust v. Sullivan (previously discussed in Section B of this Note) allowed the government to restrict healthcare professionals from putting information about abortion into the marketplace, families could still turn to other sources—like libraries—to find information on abortion. For many members of the public, the library is the last stop to gather information on these politically restricted ideas.

Libraries are unique in that they offer a wide array of materials, often without any cost or significant barriers to access. Bookstores and online research can be expensive, and in many areas, libraries are the only option for communities to obtain information. For seniors or those who might not be tech-savvy, the library is a place where they can easily access ideas that may not be readily available elsewhere. Calling library book curation government speech is therefore particularly risky because it grants the state power to limit the flow of information in spaces dedicated to public knowledge, thereby undermining the core purpose of that space.¹⁹⁴

Further, library book curation is not government speech as analyzed by the test in Shurtleff. The Little plaintiff pointed out that Llano County has not historically engaged in viewpoint-based censorship and echoed GLBT in that the government “has not historically spoken by censoring books at public libraries.”¹⁹⁵ Libraries have historically stood in contrast to censorship, providing the public with free access to ideas.¹⁹⁶ Defendants, in response, focused on “curation,” which they argued has “always been the prerogative of government employees.”¹⁹⁷

The Little defendants’ argument is wrong. Curation does not equal government speech in the context of libraries. One aspect of a librarian’s job duties is to review the library collection. Many libraries, including those in Llano County, follow a standardized process of “Continuous Review, Evaluation and Weeding” (“CREW”).¹⁹⁸ Librarians are tasked with removing—weeding—books deemed outdated or duplicated. This removal is subject to neutral criteria, most typically by following “MUSTIE” factors.¹⁹⁹ MUSTIE stands for: (1) “misleading” (factually inaccurate); (2) “ugly” (worn out and unfixable); (3) “superseded” by a new edition (or better source); (4) “trivial” (of no literary or scientific merit); (5) “irrelevant” to the needs and interest of the community; and (6) “elsewhere” (material can be easily borrowed elsewhere).²⁰⁰

A book satisfying one factor alone would likely not be weeded; instead, it would require meeting a combination of these factors for removal. In fact, Llano county required two MUSTIE factors to be met before removal.²⁰¹ Libraries engage in MUSTIE practices to weed out certain library books, and of course, such weeding involves making some selection choices because libraries do not have unlimited physical space. However, MUSTIE relies on relevance, demand, and educational value to make removal decisions and include various (and likely opposing) viewpoints. These choices are not made to represent a government-endorsed message. As Little plaintiffs pointed out in their brief, “any regulation of speech could be reframed as the government” if choices about quality are considered government messages.²⁰²

Second, the public does not perceive the government to be presenting a message or speaking through the combination of books they are presented with in a library. Libraries are meant—and understood by the public—to facilitate access to a diverse range of perspectives, not to endorse or suppress ideas. As plaintiffs in Little argued, the public does not perceive the government to be endorsing the messages of each book in the library.²⁰³ They point to the Eighth Circuit decision in GLBT to highlight that libraries contain books with a “wide range of conflicting views”²⁰⁴ and that it is not possible for the public to believe the government is endorsing them all. Otherwise, the government would be “babbling prodigiously and incoherently.”²⁰⁵ Defendants in Little countered this argument by insisting that the issue in GLBT is not about the endorsement of the speech within the library books, but rather about the status of the person who selected them (i.e., a government employee or a private citizen).²⁰⁶ They argue that it is “inconceivable” that anyone would attribute this speech to the actions of a private citizen.²⁰⁷ While it is likely true that the public would view a librarian as acting in their scope of employment, rather than acting as a private citizen, defendants’ argument is dangerous and greatly expands the reach of the government speech doctrine, contrary to the U.S. Supreme Court’s warning in Matal v. Tam that government speech should be applied with caution.²⁰⁸

The mere fact that government employees are involved in a process does not automatically transform the process into one of government speech. For example, contrary to Little’s majority opinion, just because museum curators choose exhibits does not mean their actions are viewed and understood by the public as government messaging.²⁰⁹ Shifting the debate from the public perception of government endorsement of a message to that of the identity of the selector would give the government near immunity from First Amendment violations. When the government issues a press release or policy, it is widely recognized as an official message because it comes from a government employee and explicitly communicates the government’s position. Unlike an official government-issued report or press release, a library’s collection does not serve as a direct communication of any particular message.²¹⁰ Further, when a person checks out a book from the library, they do not view the book as a message from the government. Library patrons do not understand the selection of books in a library to be a message from the government saying, “we think this is a good book” or “we approve of this book.” While it is understood that the librarians have selected the book for inclusion in the library’s collection, the message is not the librarian’s personal endorsement of the viewpoints contained in the book, but rather of the ideas presented by the author. The library’s role is not to act as a representative for government messages, but to facilitate access to diverse ideas. Thus, the public sees the speech within the book as belonging to the author, not as a government-endorsed message.

Third, libraries do not extensively engage in viewpoint discrimination when selecting books for their library shelves. Little plaintiffs correctly argue that the weeding process that libraries engage in is based on a neutral set of criteria and is not an effort to remove books based on viewpoint.²¹¹ The plaintiffs analogized this work to that of maintenance, not intentional control of specific content.²¹² Again, here, the defendants argue that this is based on the public status of the librarian’s employment, stating that the selection and removal decisions “will always be shaped and controlled by . . . government employees.”²¹³ Defendants missed the point here. Per aforementioned reasons, there is no viewpoint discrimination involved in the weeding process and the point of weeding is not to shape a particular expression.

The Court should make it unequivocally clear that the curation of public library collections by professional librarians is not government speech. Librarians are trained professionals guided by ethical standards. Their role in selection and curation of books is fundamentally about serving the public’s needs by providing them with unrestricted access to diverse perspectives. Libraries follow the principles of the Library Bill of Rights, which was created in response to censorship. Librarians are not curating a government message; they are curating a space where individuals can “seek and receive information from all points of view without restriction.”²¹⁴

CONCLUSION

The First Amendment serves as a foundation of democracy, protecting access to information and the free exchange of ideas. Throughout the nation’s history, it has been vigorously defended as a means of fostering an informed citizenry. Democracy thrives when individuals can explore, challenge, and expand their understanding of the world around them through exposure to wide-ranging perspectives. This right is not reserved for adults alone—children, as future stewards of our society, are also entitled to these fundamental protections.

Community libraries embody the First Amendment’s principles in their purest form. Libraries are not merely collections of books, but institutions dedicated to providing neutral spaces where people of all backgrounds can engage with a variety of perspectives, free from political bias or government interference. Politicizing libraries by framing the curation of their collections as government speech would fundamentally undermine the heart of the marketplace of ideas exemplified and provided by libraries.

The Supreme Court’s plurality decision in Pico rightly recognized that students have a constitutional right to access information. However, given the increasing frequency of book bans and the evolving legal landscape, the Court must reaffirm and strengthen the Pico decision. Librarians are trained professionals who adhere to ethical standards, and their role in curating books is centered on ensuring unrestricted access to knowledge, not advancing political agendas. Treating library curation as government speech would open the door to political ideological control over library collections and erode public trust in government institutions.

Upholding the First Amendment’s protection over access to library books is essential to maintaining a society that values open inquiry and free expression. Libraries are not arenas for partisan agendas, but sanctuaries for knowledge and intellectual growth. As the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression put it, “Regardless of whether book banning campaigns target the Bible or Judy Blume, politicized efforts to restrict access to information cannot be reconciled with the Founders’ faith in the free exchange of ideas and our national commitment to freedom of expression.”²¹⁵

Editor’s Note:

After publication of this issue, the Supreme Court denied certiorari in Little v. Llano County, making it easier for government officials in Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi to engage in viewpoint discrimination with respect to the removal of books from public libraries.

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 203

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Kelcey Sholl*

*Editor-in-Chief, Southern California Law Review, Volume 99; J.D. Candidate 2026, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; M.A. 2016, California State University, Northridge; B.A. 2013, California State University, Long Beach. I thank my advisor, Professor Rebecca Brown, for her support and guidance; Professor Rebecca Brown and Professor Lee Epstein for the opportunity to serve as a research assistant, which sparked my interest in the First Amendment; and the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their hard work and thoughtful suggestions on this Note.

Artificial Incompetence? Unpacking AI’s Shortcomings in Contract Drafting and Negotiation

January 2026January 2026Carly Snell*

INTRODUCTION

This Note was inspired by my time as a data center procurement contracts intern during the summer after my first year of law school. In this role, I assisted contract analysts and attorneys with their procurement of space in data center facilities by contracting with data center suppliers. I regularly reviewed contract redlines from suppliers, identified non-market or disadvantageous terms in those contracts, and suggested changes for the next “turn of the redlines,” or when the company would return the contract to the supplier with new edits to the document. An impactful conversation with my manager about artificial intelligence’s potential as a useful tool in a transactional lawyer’s toolbelt inspired a deeper dive into the benefits and drawbacks of applying artificial intelligence (“AI”) to the contract drafting, redlining, and negotiation space—ultimately leading to the development of this Note.

After the internship concluded, I began my second year of law school. While the most noticeable change upon my return was that I was no longer a first-year student, I also immediately observed a greater emphasis on AI in legal education than before. My law school offered a course on AI’s legal applications, peers used AI to supplement their studies, and professors emphasized the importance of mastering AI during law school, as it would be an essential tool in future legal practice. Similarly, students at other law schools honed their negotiation skills against AI chatbots¹ and even developed their own AI-driven case briefing technology.²

As with the implementation of any new technology, however, there are some points of contention that arise when applying AI to the law—especially in the context of contract drafting, formation, and negotiation. This Note covers four main challenges to applying AI to contract drafting: (1) contract law principles, (2) equity concerns, (3) accuracy issues, and (4) legal profession challenges. Additionally, this Note presents the results of a novel empirical study designed to test AI technology’s tendency to discriminate when tasked with negotiating a contract on behalf of different types of clients. Interestingly, ChatGPT, a popular AI chatbot,³ appears to favor corporations and nonprofit organizations over individuals when acting as a negotiation assistant.⁴ This finding suggests that the excitement surrounding AI’s potential uses in the legal field⁵ is premature, and professionals should hesitate to implement this technology in contract drafting and negotiation until algorithmic discrimination is adequately addressed.

Part I of this Note introduces the historical development of AI technology and its rise to stardom that began with the public release of ChatGPT in 2022.⁶ Part I then describes early applications of AI technology to the contracting space, such as Spellbook, Harvey, and LegalSifter.⁷ After that, Part I discusses fundamental contract law principles, such as mutual and constructive assent, that AI contract drafting may not readily align with.⁸ Finally, Part I concludes by orienting the reader with basic legal profession concepts, such as the lawyer’s duties of confidentiality, communication, competence, and diligence.⁹

Part II introduces several illustrative examples of AI in contract drafting and negotiation that pose unique questions about the key differences between human and AI-driven contracting. These differences make it difficult to apply existing contract law to AI and raise important concerns about AI’s potential to discriminate when contracting and negotiating on behalf of different clients.¹⁰ Part III of this Note expands upon AI’s usurpation of traditional contract law principles. Fundamental contract law concepts, such as the “meeting of the minds” required to form a valid contract, do not readily apply to wholly AI-driven contracting.¹¹ Principally, AI’s application in contract drafting and negotiation can present novel complications when determining whether or not the parties to a contract mutually agree on its terms. These issues persist regardless of whether a party performs some of its obligations under an AI-driven contract and despite the controversial doctrine of constructive assent.

Part IV covers the equity concerns that arise when applying AI technology to contracting. In general, applications of AI technology in the contracting space raise concerns about “algorithmic discrimination”—AI’s tendency to produce discriminatory outputs as a consequence of being trained on tainted data.¹² AI in contracting also raises ethical issues regarding enforcement of fully automated contracts. A pervasive issue in the AI space is ensuring proper alignment between an AI model’s goals and those of its operator.¹³ Given that AI technology regularly suffers from misalignment problems, would it be ethical and equitable to enforce contracts drafted by these models? Another ethical dilemma that arises in the AI contracting context concerns legal liability and accountability if a party is injured by an AI-formulated contract. If harm results from an AI-drafted contract, who should be held accountable for these harms? Between the AI model itself, its designer, its user, and other parties, there is no readily apparent answer. Finally, the implementation of AI in contracting—a setting that involves a plethora of sensitive information—presents serious data privacy and security concerns.¹⁴

In Part V, this Note reviews the accuracy issues apparent in current and potential applications of AI technology. Simply put, AI technology can behave unpredictably and output inaccurate results known as “hallucinations.”¹⁵ In the litigation context, several lawyers, including Michael Cohen’s attorney, have recently been sanctioned or publicly admonished for citing fabricated cases generated by ChatGPT in their filings.¹⁶ In the contracting space, in which exact language and minor details can govern the legal meaning of an agreement, AI’s tendency to hallucinate can cause major problems.

Part VI presents the challenges to the legal profession that arise when using AI technology in contract drafting and negotiation. For example, overreliance on AI technology to draft and negotiate contracts may violate an attorney’s professional duties of competence and diligence—much like the actions of the lawyers who cited fabricated cases in their court filings. Overreliance may also violate an attorney’s professional duty of communication if they cannot explain their reasoning for a recommended course of action to a client due to reliance on ChatGPT in their decision-making. Additionally, since AI models operate as “black boxes,” their use may raise concerns about duty of confidentiality violations if client information is input into these systems without proper safeguards.¹⁷

Part VII discusses the empirical findings that resulted when the author “hired” ChatGPT to assist various types of fictitious clients with negotiating a standard commercial real estate lease. These research findings suggest that ChatGPT discriminates against individual clients by tending to recommend renegotiation less often and to a smaller degree when advising individual clients than when assisting corporate or nonprofit clients. These findings have immense equity implications for contract drafting and negotiation in an AI-driven world, as AI models that disfavor individual clients may exacerbate existing market power or resource inequalities between individuals and more sophisticated corporate or nonprofit clients.¹⁸ Finally, Part VIII discusses some strengths and potentially useful applications of AI technology in legal work in light of this Note’s theoretical discussion and empirical findings. Part VIII posits that, although AI technology excels at summarization,¹⁹ concerns about its ability to exercise discretion and judgment suggest that it may be best suited for administrative tasks.

I. A CRASH COURSE IN AI AND RELEVANT LEGAL THOUGHT

A. What Is Artificial Intelligence and How Can It Contract?

There is no widely accepted definition of what constitutes artificial intelligence, which is partially a byproduct of how technological capabilities have rapidly improved in recent years.²⁰ To oversimplify, computer programs were historically classified as artificial intelligence if they successfully mimicked human rational thought.²¹ An early example of this concept is the Turing test for artificial intelligence, which was developed by the “father of modern computer science,” mathematician Alan Turing.²² The Turing test assesses how well a machine can imitate human thought and behavior via a competition that Turing called the “Imitation Game.”²³ In the game, a machine and human compete by answering questions asked by a human interrogator; at the end of the game, the interrogator must identify which competitor is a human and which is a machine.²⁴ If the interrogator gets it wrong—i.e., says that the machine is the human—then the machine is thought to demonstrate human-level thought and intelligence.²⁵

This Note utilizes a relatively expansive definition of artificial intelligence that is reminiscent of the Turing test. For the purposes of this Note, artificial intelligence is any computer software program that demonstrates human-like behavior or intelligence. As discussed below, the focal point of artificial intelligence in this Note is large language models, which are some of the best modern examples of AI that would likely pass Turing’s test for artificial intelligence, given their language-based design and applications.²⁶

Artificial Intelligence’s Rise to Prominence: The “AI Boom”²⁷

Artificial intelligence has taken the public consciousness by storm since the release of ChatGPT, OpenAI’s text-generating chatbot, in November 2022.²⁸ ChatGPT is an AI model trained to engage in natural language conversations, which means that when users interact with ChatGPT, it converses with them by generating textual responses comparable to that of a human.²⁹ The model’s successful imitation of human-sounding speech captured the public’s imagination,³⁰ prompting increased interest in potential applications of AI technologies from the general public³¹ and software developers³² alike.

ChatGPT can complete a variety of academic tasks in a matter of seconds, such as writing essays, generating ideas, and answering mathematical problems.³³ It is no surprise, then, that students from primary school to collegiate grade levels were some of the model’s most prevalent initial users, asking ChatGPT to write papers and complete homework assignments on their behalf.³⁴ Students’ widespread use of ChatGPT to complete assignments led many schools and universities to initially ban the AI model altogether,³⁵ although it was difficult, if not impossible, to enforce AI bans—especially outside of the classroom.³⁶ A new industry of tools meant to detect the use of AI in students’ writing emerged to combat this issue, but their accuracy remains widely disputed.³⁷

Although initial widespread applications of ChatGPT were somewhat rudimentary in nature, such as students’ use of the tool to complete assignments,³⁸ OpenAI’s introduction of the model to the public sphere was instrumental in prompting other AI developers to invest in the creation and public release of their own large language models (“LLMs”).³⁹ After witnessing OpenAI’s successful launch of ChatGPT, prominent tech industry leaders such as Google and Meta immediately sought to turn AI technologies into tangible, profitable products that they could sell to individuals and companies.⁴⁰ Although these major technology companies had already been developing (and, in some cases, even released, to little success⁴¹) their own AI technologies before November 2022, ChatGPT’s successful public launch prompted an expansion of the AI industry like never before.⁴² By the following spring, a flurry of new LLMs had emerged on the market: Meta’s LLaMA model, Google’s PaLM-E, and even OpenAI’s newest iteration of its LLM: GPT-4.⁴³

In essence, large language models are AI models designed to interact with and produce language.⁴⁴ “Large” refers to the increasing trend to train these models on large quantities of data stored in massive data sets that are usually housed in collocated data centers.⁴⁵ While ChatGPT, LLaMA, PaLM-E, and GPT-4 are all generally considered LLMs, much like AI more broadly, a concrete definition of what constitutes a large language model remains an open question.⁴⁶ There are no exact parameters for how large an AI model must be or how it must interact with language in order to be categorized as an LLM.⁴⁷

On the other hand, LLMs are generally considered to be a subset of generative AI.⁴⁸ Generative AI is defined as artificial intelligence capable of producing new creations, such as graphic images, text, and audio, based on training data inputted into the model.⁴⁹ Therefore, generative AI enables a user to generate substantial quantities of work product with minimal effort by prompting a generative AI model and letting it create content for them based on the query. This is partly why ChatGPT became wildly popular in a short period of time⁵⁰—and why the generative model caused concerns about students using it to complete homework and other assignments on their behalf.

Beyond their avocational applications as homework helpers⁵¹ and joke writers,⁵² LLMs are being increasingly used by industry professionals to improve and expand the potential of their products and services.⁵³ For instance, Amazon Web Services implemented an externally facing AI chatbot on its Amazon.com retail site designed to handle returns, provide shipment tracking information, and generally improve the site’s customer service capabilities⁵⁴ (albeit the chatbot has garnered mixed reviews⁵⁵). Similarly, in 2024, Target Corporation launched an internally facing generative AI model, called Store Companion, to assist with employee training, store operations management, and general problem-solving tasks.⁵⁶ Meanwhile, social media platforms such as Instagram use AI models to filter content and craft feeds that are better personalized to users’ individual preferences.⁵⁷

Early Applications of Artificial Intelligence to Legal Contracting

Naturally, the ever-increasing implementation of LLMs in a variety of businesses, industries, and settings includes applications in the legal field as well.⁵⁸ For example, AI has already been used to create legal workflow companions with suites of legal skills,⁵⁹ contract lifecycle management software programs,⁶⁰ and contract redlining and drafting assistants.⁶¹ A simple Google search for AI contracting services yields a plethora of (interestingly named) AI-powered software programs that purport to assist an attorney with redlining (e.g., Harvey,⁶² Lawgeex,⁶³ Superlegal,⁶⁴ Ivo,⁶⁵ Screens,⁶⁶ and Spellbook⁶⁷) or managing (e.g., Evisort,⁶⁸ Ironclad,⁶⁹ Sirion,⁷⁰ and LegalSifter⁷¹) their legal contracts. Even companies that operate widely used legal research databases, such as LexisNexis and Thomson Reuters, have created and marketed their own generative AI-powered legal assistants.⁷²

Legal professionals are generally excited about new and potential future applications of AI to the legal world.⁷³ Many believe the technology will increase efficiency in a time-intensive industry by synthesizing documents and reducing the time a human attorney needs in order to perform certain legal tasks.⁷⁴ Some hopefuls even view AI as infallible—capable of outperforming humans, whose work is prone to errors, because AI can craft perfectly completed and accurate work product.⁷⁵ Finally, AI is thought by some to make legal services more affordable and accessible to the general public⁷⁶ by reducing the number of billable hours an attorney must dedicate to any given task, enabling individuals to access legal services without hiring a human attorney, or both. In fact, Utah and Arizona have already implemented pilot programs that allow non-lawyer entities, such as AI chatbots, to provide legal services, and Washington may be the next state to institute such a program.⁷⁷

Despite this enthusiasm about AI, the immediate application of LLMs to the legal space has not been without its challenges. Some attorneys have wrongfully used LLMs to shirk their responsibilities by asking AI models to conduct legal research or write briefs on their behalf.⁷⁸ This practice has resulted in massive sanctions and fines for attorneys who cited “bogus” cases that were fabricated by ChatGPT in documents that they later submitted to a judge.⁷⁹ Furthermore, as discussed later in this Note, issues regarding lawyers’ ethical and professional duties, algorithmic discrimination, AI’s inaccuracies, and the subversion of traditional contract law principles also arise when large language models are applied to the legal field.

B. A “Meeting of the Minds” Regarding Contract Law Theory

An orientation into the foundational principles underlying contract law theory is needed before one can take a proper deep dive into the applications of AI in contracting. A great place to start is the traditional contractual theory of mutual assent, colloquially known as the “meeting of the minds.”⁸⁰ Mutual assent is one of many requirements that must be demonstrated for a court to hold that a given contract is legally valid and enforceable.⁸¹ “Meeting of the minds” refers to the idea that both parties must mutually agree to the terms of a contract in order for the agreement to be legally binding.⁸² That is, the parties’ minds must, in a sense, “meet in the middle” at the moment when the contract is formed. For that reason, mutual assent may not be found when one or both of the parties to a contract entered into the agreement based on a misunderstanding or a mistake of law or fact.⁸³ Intuitively, this makes sense; it would not be good public policy to bind people to a contractual agreement if they did not fully understand the obligations and consequences they allegedly agreed to when the agreement was executed. Beyond equity justifications, it may also be inefficient to hold a party accountable for obligations that they did not intend to undertake and may not be equipped to fulfill. Relatedly, to create a binding agreement, the parties to the contract must specifically mutually assent to the material terms of the contract.⁸⁴ Without a “meeting of the minds” between the parties to any given contract regarding the essential provisions of the agreement, the contract is invalid and not legally binding on the parties.

In some instances, courts have imputed assent to a party based on their conduct even if they did not explicitly agree to or approve of the terms of an agreement.⁸⁵ This doctrine is known as “constructive assent,”⁸⁶ and it is common among online transactions.⁸⁷ For example, if a user of an online webpage affirmatively acknowledges the page’s terms of use by clicking an “I accept” or “I agree” button without actually reading the agreement, the user is usually found to have constructively assented to the terms of the agreement despite not actually being aware of its contents.⁸⁸

Although many people make light of the fact that nobody ever reads various websites’ terms of use or, more notably, Apple’s Terms and Conditions,⁸⁹ constructive assent is no laughing matter. In these types of situations, constructive assent can be used to essentially waive the traditional contract theory requirement of a “meeting of the minds,” instead holding individuals accountable for the contracts that they sign even if they do not fully understand or have knowledge of the terms that they allegedly agreed to.⁹⁰ Unsurprisingly, the doctrine of constructive assent is controversial—especially its application to consumer contracts⁹¹ and form contracts more broadly.⁹² Further, the ethics of constructive assent are hotly debated among scholars, with some arguing that applying constructive assent to a contested contract unfairly disadvantages the weaker party (e.g., the consumer) to the benefit of the dominant party (e.g., the retailer) whose greater market power enables them to force the weaker party to consent to the dominant party’s preferred terms.⁹³

C. Attorneys as Ethical and Professional Fiduciaries

Another important factor to consider when analyzing the potential applications of AI to the contracting space is the ethical and professional complications that arise due to attorneys’ special fiduciary duties to their clients. In general, attorneys are held to a higher standard than those who work in many other professions.⁹⁴ Specifically, attorney conduct is governed by each state’s bar association, many of which have adopted the Model Rules of Professional Conduct—the generic rules promulgated by the American Bar Association.⁹⁵ The Model Rules serve as a fundamental guideline for attorney conduct by prescribing various professional and fiduciary duties to attorneys, such as client confidentiality, competence, diligence, and communication.⁹⁶ The Model Rules also address various topics relating to an attorney’s practice—like conflicts of interest, the formation of an attorney-client relationship, the scope of one’s representation, and how to interact with unrepresented persons⁹⁷—and explain how model attorneys should approach these issues. Importantly, the Model Rules detail practices that constitute misconduct, like engaging in dishonesty or fraud, violating the Model Rules of Professional Conduct, or committing a criminal act.⁹⁸ For the purposes of this Note, it is important for one to keep the Model Rules of Professional Conduct in mind when considering how an attorney may use AI technology in drafting or negotiating contracts, as certain applications of AI may subvert the underlying goals that the Model Rules were designed to support in more traditional applications.

II. ILLUSTRATIVE EXAMPLES

Several ethical, practical, and theoretical questions arise when one considers various applications of AI to contract drafting, formation, and negotiation. To better illustrate the issues that arise from applying AI to the contracting space, consider the following numbered examples and the questions they raise regarding their implications for the contract law principles and legal profession concepts that we have discussed:

Example #1: Laypeople Using AI to Draft a Contract⁹⁹

Two laypeople (i.e., not attorneys) are doing business together. Interested in summarizing their deal in a written form, they “draft” a contract by asking ChatGPT to do so for them. Once ChatGPT has drafted the contract, the two parties both read and sign the contract, despite not understanding the agreement’s legalese or terms. Later, something goes wrong, and the contract’s validity and enforceability are disputed.

Was there a “meeting of the minds,” or mutual assent, here?

Is this a case of AI-assisted human contracting, or was this effectively an entirely AI-created contract?

Is the contract enforceable?

Should society want the contract to be enforceable?

Example #2: AI as a Contract Drafting Tool for Attorneys¹⁰⁰

As is industry practice, a lawyer in a corporate law firm normally uses a standard form contract from prior deals as a starting point when drafting new contracts. However, for a particular deal, she decides to use ChatGPT to draft the initial form contract instead.

Is this an example of AI as a tool that assists humans in contract drafting, or is this a wholly AI-drafted agreement?

Does this distinction have important implications for the contract’s validity and enforceability?

Is there any significant difference between this attorney using AI to create a form contract or pulling a precedent contract out of her firm’s database?

Would this amount to a breach of the attorney’s professional duties of competence, diligence, or anything else?

Example #3: Human Error Versus AI-Drafted Terms

Overwhelmed with his busy workload, a lawyer mistakenly inserts a clause in a contract he is drafting for his client. Both his client and the other party to the contract sign the agreement; neither party nor the attorney knows at the time the agreement is executed that the accidental provision is included in the contract.

Is the extra provision in the agreement enforceable (i.e., did the parties mutually assent to the term)?

Is this scenario any different from if AI completely drafts and executes a contract without humans involved in the contracting process?

How are these two examples reconciled in terms of mutual assent? Are they the same, or fundamentally different in any way?

Example #4: AI Automatically “Agreeing” to Online Terms

Annoyed with websites’ many Terms of Service and Cookies pop-ups, an inventor creates an AI-driven “ad blocker” software that automatically clicks through and “agrees” to these pop-ups on the software user’s behalf so that they never have to see them again.

Would this constitute the user’s assent to various websites’ Terms of Service?

Does the answer to this question depend on how long the user has had the software, or whether they knew or reasonably should have known that specific websites had Terms of Service or Cookies pop-ups?

* * *

There are two possibilities when applying AI technology to contract drafting and negotiation: (1) AI effectively functions as an assistant, aiding humans with their contracting, and (2) fully automated decision-making, in which AI completely takes over contracting, from start to finish, with no humans involved in the process. Under either scenario, four categories of problems arise when implementing AI in contract drafting and negotiation: the subversion of contract law principles, equity concerns, accuracy issues, and legal profession challenges.

III. AI’S SUBVERSION OF CONTRACT LAW PRINCIPLES

If AI functions as a mere contract drafting and negotiation assistant, mutual assent concepts would apply in the same manner that they do for purely human-conducted contracting. An underlying principle of the mutual assent requirement for a valid contract is the notion that the parties to a given contract must understand the terms of the agreement and have a “meeting of the minds,” or mutual agreement, that they find the terms acceptable.¹⁰¹ If AI technology merely assists an attorney with drafting or negotiating a contract, this does not affect the portion of the dealmaking process that mutual assent concerns. The only point in time that is relevant for mutual assent is when the parties come to a consensus that the contract’s terms are agreeable and subsequently execute the agreement.¹⁰² By that point in time, the drafting and negotiating phases of the process are complete (and, truthfully, long gone)—the agreement is in its final drafted form and will not undergo further redlines or revisions. Thus, the implementation of AI as a mere assistant in the contracting and negotiation process is not within the timeline or contextual scope that mutual assent concerns. AI’s use as a contracting assistant is therefore akin to any personal opinions the drafting attorney may have (outside of their thoughts and duties as a fiduciary of their client) regarding the deal at hand—i.e., irrelevant to questions about mutual assent.

While some may argue that the cyclical drafting, redlining, and negotiation process drives the parties to a contract toward the ultimate goal of mutual assent at the end of the contracting cycle, it is not a necessary component of mutual assent that agreements are modified and negotiated by the parties. If one party presents a complete agreement to another party, who signs it without criticizing its contents or insisting on revisions, it is still a valid contract. Furthermore, in many instances, an attorney drafts and negotiates on behalf of their client, who signs the final contract without a comprehensive legal understanding of the negotiations and redlines that were made during the dealmaking process. This is arguably like Example #1 in Part II, in which the two laypeople used AI to draft a contract that they then signed. Although the individuals did not negotiate between themselves, mutual assent was arguably satisfied because the humans—not ChatGPT—assented to the agreement at the end of the contracting process.

On the other hand, if contracting is entirely managed by AI—without humans involved in the process—then the contract law requirement of mutual assent is not satisfied. Arguably, if the laypeople in Example #1 did not understand the contract because ChatGPT performed a substantial portion of the legal lift for them (which is possible, considering that they did not understand the AI-drafted agreement’s legalese or terms), then the mutual assent requirement may not be satisfied because the contracting process was effectively completed without human involvement. Example #4 details a more abstract example of this concept. In Example #4, the inventor’s software “agrees” to websites’ terms of use on its users’ behalf. In this situation, the human user never sees, let alone reads, the terms of service that they allegedly agreed to through the AI-driven software. Although some might argue that there is mutual assent because a person who installs the software knows that it will “agree to” the terms on any site that the person visits, this argument does not hold up to pragmatic scrutiny. Given how often and extensively people surf the Internet, it is highly likely that, over time, the person would not know which websites had pop-up advertisements or terms of use that the AI bot “agreed” to on their behalf, let alone the content of those agreements.

Therefore, the contract law requirement of mutual assent goes unsatisfied when AI fully takes over the contracting process. This flaw in solely AI-executed contracting becomes even more apparent when considering contracts that involve multimillion- or multibillion-dollar transactions, fundamental changes in a company’s structure or dealings, or changing the client’s financial or business practices in any substantial way. Without providing notice of these changes to the client and securing their informed assent to new and material contractual terms, solely AI-driven contracting is unlikely to satisfy traditional contract law principles.

Some might argue that a party’s performance of its obligations under a fully AI-driven contract would justify its validity and waive the mutual assent requirement, much like the traditional contract law enforcement principles surrounding the Statute of Frauds.¹⁰³ However, a fully automated contracting process differs from classic applications of the Statute of Frauds—such as when a party denies a prior verbal agreement, claiming that they never agreed to the deal because no written proof of it exists.¹⁰⁴ Rather, if AI completely drives the contracting process, then the parties to a contract would likely never be aware of, let alone read, the AI-drafted and executed agreement. Due to this disconnection, it is highly unlikely that the parties would completely perform their obligations under the agreement—simply because they would not know what their obligations are. Even if the parties were generally aware of their performance obligations (e.g., because the AI model contracted an extension of an existing purchase agreement between a purchaser and supplier), they would still not know the specifications of the agreement to a high enough degree for public policy to justify holding them to the transaction.

Furthermore, although some may argue that the doctrine of constructive assent can waive the mutual assent requirement in the purely AI-driven contracting setting, this argument is specious. Constructive assent is a highly controversial doctrine in its current limited uses, such as form contracts.¹⁰⁵ Scholars have raised particular concerns about constructive assent eliminating the need for mutual assent in online transactions, such as clickwrap agreements,¹⁰⁶ because the doctrine can infer an Internet user’s assent from their decision to click “I agree”—regardless of how “ill-informed and not well considered” that decision might have been.¹⁰⁷ Therefore, because constructive assent is thought by many to subvert traditional contract law theory, especially in online transactions, it provides a weak justification for waiving the mutual assent requirement in a purely AI-driven contracting setting.

Therefore, the distinction between AI as a contracting assistant and wholly AI-driven contracting carries significant contract law implications. In Example #2 in Part II, the legal difference between an attorney using a precedent contract from prior deals and relying on an AI-generated form contract is crucial, even though practicing attorneys may see little to no practical difference between the two. As AI technology continues to advance, the line between human-driven and AI-driven contracting will increasingly blur, raising questions about contract validity, enforceability, and an attorney’s professional obligations. Whether AI serves merely as a drafting tool or takes on a more autonomous role could have far-reaching legal consequences.

IV. EQUITY CONCERNS

A. Algorithmic Discrimination

Algorithmic discrimination occurs when ostensibly impartial AI technology produces discriminatory results because it was trained on tainted inputs.¹⁰⁸ Put more simply, algorithmic discrimination is a perfect example of “Garbage In, Garbage Out.”¹⁰⁹ Proponents of AI argue that even if algorithmic discrimination occurs, automated decision-making is preferable to human decision-making because humans are biased.¹¹⁰ However, algorithmic discrimination can perpetuate and amplify existing biases or stereotypes in an AI model’s training data, with the dangerous added implication that the tainted model appears facially objective and neutral.¹¹¹ Furthermore, because of their reliance on human inputs, algorithms will arguably never be fully bias-free and nondiscriminatory, but perpetually flawed as “partially human.”¹¹² Additionally, due to its highly advanced pattern-detection abilities, AI technology has the potential to develop new forms of discrimination by extracting patterns from its inputted data that humans alone would not have been able to detect.¹¹³

Algorithmic discrimination is also concerning because current legal theories do not supply satisfactory remedies for discrimination by AI systems.¹¹⁴ For example, imagine that an online job search site, such as LinkedIn, uses an AI-driven algorithm to “match” employers with potential interview candidates on the site by recommending certain user profiles to employers.¹¹⁵ If a user believed that the algorithm discriminated against them in choosing not to suggest their profile to employers, they would have limited options to seek legal redress. In the employment space, discrimination claims are separated into two categories: (1) disparate treatment and (2) disparate impact.¹¹⁶ Disparate treatment is focused on combating explicit discrimination, which requires a finding of intent.¹¹⁷ In a traditional, non-AI setting, explicit discrimination may be demonstrated by a qualified job candidate who was denied employment by a firm that refused to hire her by proving that the refusal was based on one of the candidate’s protected characteristics, such as race or gender.¹¹⁸ Conversely, to claim disparate treatment in the case of an AI algorithm, the disgruntled LinkedIn user would have to demonstrate that the algorithm had the intent to discriminate, which may be incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to prove in the case of a nonhuman entity. Thus, algorithmic discrimination is likely thought to be a product of unintentional or incidental discrimination.

Alternatively, disparate impact claims do not require the plaintiff to prove discriminatory intent;¹¹⁹ rather, the doctrine considers whether there is a disparate impact on members of a protected class, any business necessity for the impact, and a less discriminatory alternative means of achieving the same result.¹²⁰ Therefore, given the aforementioned difficulty of ascribing any particular cognitive motivations to an AI model, disparate impact discrimination is the only potential mode of existing discrimination law that

might provide legal redress for members of protected classes who experience algorithmic discrimination in the employment context.

In the contracting space, algorithmic discrimination has the potential to create disastrous consequences. If an AI model is trained on discriminatory data or its algorithm is improperly weighted by its human developers, it may tend to favor one type of party over another, such as men over women.¹²¹ This bias may then prompt the AI model to negotiate more favorable deals for certain parties than it would for others. This potential for AI to act as a discriminatory advocate may exacerbate existing inequalities, especially if the model’s reliance on tainted training data causes it to reinforce biases that disproportionately harm certain groups. Particularly sensitive communities include women, racial or ethnic minorities, and people who are socioeconomically disadvantaged. In the contracting setting, where every word in a contract has an important implication for the meaning of the agreement, a tainted AI model could selectively include unfavorable terms—or simply choose terms that are not the most favorable—in an agreement when “hired” by a party that the model’s data disfavors. The individual who experiences discrimination by receiving the “short end of the stick,” or undesirable contract terms, would likely never know that they were discriminated against by the model they used to contract. Even if the disadvantaged individual later became aware of the discriminatory term selection, it is likely that they would not have the ability or resources to advocate for themselves.

Furthermore, the contracting setting presents a multitude of consequential and important situations in which a person’s livelihood depends on the degree of favorability they are able to negotiate for themselves in a given contract. For example, in an employment contract, the starting salary, amount of paid family leave, and inclusion of any noncompete provisions may have huge implications for a prospective employee’s financial stability and future wellbeing. If an AI model poorly negotiates on a potential employee’s behalf, that potential employee may experience a lower quality of life than they would have otherwise—and if the reason for AI’s poor performance is discriminatory conduct, these disadvantaged outcomes will only exacerbate existing inequalities in our society.

B. Ethics of Enforcing Automated Deals

Another serious concern that arises when using AI in contracting is the ethical dilemma of deciding when to enforce completely automated deals. If we get to the point in which contracting is an entirely AI-driven task, do we feel comfortable holding humans accountable for the deals that an AI model entered into on their behalf?

A critical consideration when determining accountability in this circumstance is AI (mis)alignment. Broadly speaking, direct alignment refers to the ability to program an AI system so that it pursues goals consistent with the goals of its operator.¹²² There are a plethora of difficulties in ensuring proper direct alignment, including (1) determining the operator’s goals, (2) conveying those goals to the AI software, and (3) getting the AI model to correctly translate those goals into actions.¹²³ It is often incredibly difficult for an AI user to overcome these challenges, and efforts to do so sometimes cause AI programs to take unexpected actions that result in adverse consequences.¹²⁴

In the contracting context, holding the user of an AI contracting software to an agreement that the AI model drafted on their behalf can have especially inequitable consequences. Much like Example #3 in Part II, in which the human attorney mistakenly added language to the contract he was drafting, if an AI program is misaligned with its user’s goals, then it may draft contracts that do not reflect those goals. Both general intuition and contract law theory suggest that in a scenario like Example #3, the parties to the contract should not be bound by terms to which they did not assent. Similarly, in the case of misaligned AI contracting software, intuition suggests that it would be unethical to bind a party to an agreement if the AI model that contracted on their behalf did so in a manner that did not align with the user’s intentions.

C. Who Is Liable or Accountable?

If and when AI-assisted or wholly automated contracting goes wrong, who should we hold liable for breached contracts? Would we want to differentiate between the AI developer, the human who “hired” the AI to contract on their behalf or otherwise used the model to contract, and the AI model itself?

These questions are especially difficult to answer because traditional liability frameworks are designed with an inherent assumption that a human decisionmaker caused the alleged harm.¹²⁵ In the contracting setting, we would hold this human decisionmaker accountable for their breach of a contractual promise. If AI functions as a contracting agent, however, a human may not have made decisions that directly caused the complaining party’s harm. If an AI contracting program enters into agreements on a human’s behalf, that may not be enough under traditional liability frameworks to justifiably say that the human caused the alleged harm and hold them liable for it.

For similar reasons, it also appears unreasonable to hold an AI developer liable for breaches of contracts that its AI contracting software simply aided in drafting. To oversimplify, in order to prove causation of harm due to a breached contract, a plaintiff must demonstrate that the defendant’s breach was more than just an actual cause of the plaintiff’s harm.¹²⁶ Rather, the plaintiff has a higher burden: they must prove that the defendant’s act was the proximate cause of their harm.¹²⁷ To demonstrate proximate cause, the plaintiff must show that the harm was a foreseeable consequence of the defendant’s breach of contract.¹²⁸ In the AI context, a developer and its AI software may be actual, or but-for, causes of the harm suffered by a party who contracts with the software. However, the broad applicability of AI contracting software and its limitless potential uses suggest that, in many cases, the developer’s creation of the software would not be the legal, or proximate, cause of the injury because the alleged harm was not foreseeable.

Given these uncertainties about holding either the user or developer of AI-driven contracting software accountable, a plaintiff’s final potential avenue in a breach of contract claim might involve asserting that the AI program itself is liable for the harm. However, while holding the contracting algorithm liable may initially appear to be a plausible approach, it poses two serious concerns.

First, there is no legal precedent for holding a completely nonhuman entity liable for a person’s harm. Although corporations have been found liable for various harms, they are not analogous to AI-powered software programs. As “legal fictions,” corporations achieve legal personhood by “acting” through the actions of their human agents (that is, their officers, directors, promoters, and employees).¹²⁹ AI contractors differ significantly from corporations and operate in an almost entirely opposite manner. Instead of operating through human agents, AI software operates on behalf of humans. As a result, efforts to attribute liability to AI software by drawing analogies to corporate liability may be both inaccurate and misguided.

Second, if an AI model is held liable for contract breaches and required to pay damages to compensate for the resulting harms, this could expose AI software developers to above average or substantial levels of risk.¹³⁰ This increased risk may discourage AI developers from investing in further innovation, fearing that their investments could be lost to breach of contract, product liability, or other lawsuits. Additionally, if AI companies or algorithms were exposed to liability in this way, potential entrants to the AI contracting industry might hesitate, hindering further technological advancements. This suppression of innovation could cause greater harm to society than that posed by the inability of those alleging harm from breached contracts to obtain damages.

Thus, preserving innovation and investment into AI technology and its legal applications may involve specially protecting AI software, its users, and its developers from liability for harm-causing AI contracts—or, at the very minimum, maintaining existing standards of proof that prevent plaintiff-victims with lower socioeconomic statuses from securing damages in these types of cases.¹³¹ Under the current legal framework, only those individuals with higher socioeconomic statuses would be able to secure the costly expert testimony needed to demonstrate that an AI’s contract drafting did not satisfy the standard cost-benefit analysis used in determining liability in product warning, instruction, or design liability cases.¹³² Lowering the burden of proof would combat this issue, but such a change is unlikely to occur as it would expose AI software, its developers, and its users to substantial liability due to the highly unpredictable nature of AI-created risks.¹³³ Although there are numerous instances in recent history when the American public has accepted negative consequences for a minority group to achieve broader benefits for society as a whole,¹³⁴ the benefits of AI contracting do not outweigh its disproportionate harms.

Another issue in the context of assigning liability for AI contracting-related harms is allocating fault between the multiple parties that were involved in the contract’s creation and implementation. Parsing out which party should be held liable—whether it be the AI software itself, its designer, seller, or user, or another party altogether—inherently includes a significant policy decision as to how society chooses to (dis)incentivize AI technology’s development, usage, and applications.¹³⁵

D. Data Privacy and Security Concerns

When you log into ChatGPT to ask it a question, the prompt that you send the model does not stay on your laptop. It does not even stay on ChatGPT’s webpage.¹³⁶ By the time your query has been answered by the LLM (which is within seconds), your information is long gone—out into the ether of wherever OpenAI stores the many gigabytes of data it uses to train its AI models.¹³⁷ In reality, the information likely ends up in a remotely located and highly classified data center, where it sits on a server until OpenAI uses it to train its next LLM.¹³⁸

The average person may not care that their question asking ChatGPT to craft a new diet for them may get stored somewhere.¹³⁹ However, sophisticated legal clients commonly include their proprietary information—such as property addresses, purchase prices, and highly technical engineering or software information—in high-level contracts. Thus, legal clients are typically very protective of the private information in their contracts and subsequently include confidentiality clauses in their agreements to safeguard against disclosure to third parties.¹⁴⁰

For cases in which legal clients have highly sensitive information, AI’s “black box” can become a major issue. The “black box” problem refers to the fact that we are unable to see how LLMs make their decisions.¹⁴¹ Although the inputs and outputs of LLMs are observable, given the algorithms’ ever-evolving nature, their internal workings are a mystery—including what input data they retain.¹⁴² AI models’ mysterious inner workings may interfere with the efficacy and implementation of AI in the contract redlining and negotiation space because legal clients who are protective of their proprietary information may object to an AI model’s use in the contracting process. Even if a law firm used an “internal” AI software program, clients with sensitive information may not be comfortable with such a program because their information would be stored within the firm’s model for perpetuity.

There is an inherent tension between training an LLM and protecting clients’ confidential information. LLM models are trained on inputted data—and they improve if provided with greater quantities of training data.¹⁴³ Therefore, without clients who are willing for their information to be input into an LLM, the model’s efficacy will not improve. This may create problematic incentives for law firms to encourage their clients to commingle their sensitive information with that of other clients in the firm’s AI model in order to produce a better-quality software program for the firm.

Finally, LLMs’ greatest skill is their ability to recognize patterns in data. With more and more sensitive client information inputted into and stored by an LLM, the potential for an AI model to identify connections between data increases. In the case of an outsourced AI model not owned by a law firm, these recognized patterns may be disclosed to third parties for nefarious purposes. For instance, an LLM may analyze contracting patterns to determine which companies are economically successful, leading a third party to misappropriate this information and engage in fraudulent or deceptive dealings. In a more alarming scenario, third parties who gain access to confidential company addresses or security details that an LLM extracted from contracts—such as the location of a technology company’s classified data center—could use this information to break into the facility and steal servers.

V. AI: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE OR ACCURACY ISSUES?

Artificial intelligence is widely known to “hallucinate,” or misinterpret patterns in its data and create inaccurate or nonsensical outputs.¹⁴⁴ When an LLM hallucinates, it can fabricate legal cases, contradict itself, or provide outright wrong answers to questions.¹⁴⁵ In the contracting space, minute missteps when negotiating or redlining an agreement can have enormous consequences.¹⁴⁶ Therefore, AI’s tendency to hallucinate presents a major barrier to its successful implementation as a contractor. Given its pattern recognition functionality, AI is also known to provide different answers to the same question if it is asked multiple times, with slightly different wording, or by different people. These inaccuracies and inconsistencies are unacceptable in a detail-oriented field such as contract law, where “the devil is in the details.”

Furthermore, there are currently no regulatory compliance standards that would require AI models to be regularly updated with new case law, statutes, and other sources of law. On the other hand, state bar associations require attorneys to remain knowledgeable about updates in the law and complete continuing legal education (“CLE”) courses.¹⁴⁷ The nonexistence of regulation that would mandate AI models to remain up to date on new laws presents major challenges in the contracting space. Just like an attorney who refuses to complete their CLEs, an AI model that is not fully updated on what the current law is cannot adequately contract or negotiate for a client. Even if regulations were eventually implemented that required regular updates to AI models so that they included new case law, statutes, and other laws, this would be difficult to administer. Since it would be incredibly difficult, if not impossible, for an AI model to be instantaneously updated as new laws came into effect, this time lapse means that these models will always be somewhat out of date and not fully updated on the newest laws. Additionally, such regulations, if they came into effect, would place immense compliance costs on AI developers to continually update their models and may even discourage certain developers from entering the legal contracting space altogether.

Finally, LLMs are not sufficiently accurate to be used in contracting because of their technical limitations. AI technology lacks the ability to exercise judgment and is known to struggle with customization, context, and complexity (“CCC”)¹⁴⁸—all of which are highly relevant aspects of contracting. In fact, CCC is a major reason in-house counsel as a general concept exists; businesses that are highly technical or complex in nature often prefer to have their own attorneys who are better suited than outside counsel to understand the company’s unique situation and needs. Thus, AI would not serve well as a legal assistant because it would not understand the context or complexity of a prospective client’s specific contracting needs.

VI. LEGAL PROFESSION CHALLENGES

As fiduciaries for their clients, lawyers are held to a high professional standard. Subsequently, lawyers’ use of AI technology poses unique challenges to the legal profession, particularly in the context of contract drafting and negotiation.

A compelling argument can be made that an attorney who relies on AI technology to draft contracts violates their professional duties of competence and diligence.¹⁴⁹ Although the AI-toting attorney may argue that an LLM is a tool that they use to aid their work, much like Microsoft Word or Excel, such an analogy is misplaced. Generative AI differs from these types of technologies because it allows lawyers to create substantive work product with minimal effort.¹⁵⁰ Therefore, relying on ChatGPT for contract drafting may undermine an attorney’s obligation to provide competent and diligent representation for their client.

Furthermore, an attorney’s reliance on AI technology to draft and negotiate contracts may create communication gaps between the attorney and their clients. If an attorney blindly accepts an LLM’s output as the best possible redline or negotiation strategy in a given situation, the attorney may be incapable of explaining to their client why they undertook the AI-suggested action.¹⁵¹ This blind acceptance of an AI model’s output is very likely if an attorney uses an AI model to contract because we often cannot look into an LLM’s inner workings or see why they generate the outputs that they do.¹⁵² The black box problem exacerbates this duty of communication issue if an AI model executes contracts without humans involved in the contract drafting and negotiation process, as the model would provide little to no legal reasoning to its client to explain its outputted action.

As mentioned in Section IV.D, serious duty of confidentiality concerns arise when clients’ data is input into an LLM.¹⁵³ Even if placeholder information is used in an effort to protect confidential client data, an AI model may be able to use its ability to detect patterns to extract confidential information from the provisions and context that are inputted into it. This is especially possible if an attorney or law firm inputs substantial amounts of client data into an AI model, as in the case of AI-driven contract lifecycle management programs or internal AI programs more broadly.

Finally, AI is not suited for the ethical and emotional dilemmas that are inherent in legal contracting and negotiation. Attorneys regularly encounter ethically and emotionally intense situations when negotiating and contracting for their clients. If an AI model is tasked with contracting in an ethically ambiguous situation, it would lack the human touch necessary to appropriately respond. Even if the model was trained to provide canned outputs in specific scenarios, it would be impossible for the model’s programmers to predict all potential ethical dilemmas that the AI model may encounter in practice. Additionally, in emotionally intense contracting settings, such as mergers and acquisitions, partnership agreements, or certain real estate transactions, clients are likely to value the human touch of an attorney over the detached and indifferent nature of an AI model.

VII. EMPIRICAL RESEARCH: “HIRING” CHATGPT IN A CONTRACT NEGOTIATION

To test AI’s current capabilities in the contract drafting and negotiation space, the author conducted novel empirical research using OpenAI’s Application Programming Interface (“API”). The experiment was designed to imitate “hiring” ChatGPT¹⁵⁴ as a legal assistant by tasking it to assist with a client’s negotiation of a commercial real estate lease. To investigate whether ChatGPT suggests different negotiation recommendations depending on its type of client, the author selected four general client types for this experiment: (1) an individual; (2) a small, privately held corporation; (3) a large, publicly held corporation; and (4) a nonprofit organization. ChatGPT was not provided with additional information about each client, and the rest of the experiment—including the exact prompt language, base contract structure, and output scale—was held constant across all client types in order to control for differences in the AI model’s responses.

A commercial real estate lease was selected for this experiment because all four of the selected client types could plausibly negotiate and enter into a commercial real estate lease as a tenant. To simulate a real-world commercial real estate contract, the author provided ChatGPT with thirty generic boilerplate provisions typically found in a commercial real estate lease, such as assignment, security deposit, renewal option, and maintenance provisions.¹⁵⁵ For each provision, the AI software was asked whether it would recommend renegotiation to its client. To facilitate objective comparisons between ChatGPT’s responses for different client types, the query solicited numerical responses by specifically asking ChatGPT to output its response on a scale from 0 to 100. On this scale, 0 indicated that ChatGPT would recommend to the client that the language was acceptable and should not be renegotiated, while 100 signified that ChatGPT would recommend that the language was unacceptable and the client should renegotiate the provision.¹⁵⁶ The 0 to 100 scale was chosen to prevent ChatGPT from outputting renegotiation advice in plain English. With numeric outputs, the author did not need to make subjective judgments about the quality of ChatGPT’s negotiation recommendations—which would have been necessary if they were in plain English—in order to compare the outputs across client types.

ChatGPT was selected as the AI chatbot for this experiment due to its popularity.¹⁵⁷ Because ChatGPT is pervasive, the results of an experiment utilizing it are more easily generalized to real-world applications and settings than the results of an experiment conducted with a less popular AI program. Put simply, the author chose to use ChatGPT for this research because this experiment seeks to replicate laypeople’s use of AI to negotiate contracts and laypeople are more likely to use ChatGPT than other AI programs.

The author also selected OpenAI’s API to conduct this experiment rather than prompting ChatGPT manually because the API provided an efficient and cost-effective method of testing the author’s algorithmic discrimination hypothesis.¹⁵⁸ In general, an API is a set of protocols that connects software programs, devices such as computers, and applications by enabling them to more easily communicate with each other.¹⁵⁹ APIs are useful because they enable a researcher to automate repetitive tasks such as scraping information from webpages or, in this case, prompting ChatGPT repetitively.¹⁶⁰

To conduct this experiment, the author drafted Python code that prompted ChatGPT for each client-provision pairing through its API and saved the AI model’s outputted numbers in an Excel file. Notably, iterating prompts through OpenAI’s API enabled the use of its log probabilities (“logprobs”) feature to construct more accurate data as compared with the data that would result from manual prompting.¹⁶¹ Logprobs is a feature in OpenAI’s API that responds to a particular prompt with both ChatGPT’s most likely outputs and the corresponding log probabilities for those responses.¹⁶² In essence, the logprobs feature enables a researcher to determine the estimated probability that ChatGPT would respond to any given prompt with particular responses.¹⁶³ For instance, in the context of this experiment, when ChatGPT is tasked with advising an individual client about whether to renegotiate the “Premises” provision of the provided lease agreement, the AI program is 78.629% likely to output “25,” 11.181% likely to output “50,” and 6.966% likely to output “75” on the 0 to 100 scale.¹⁶⁴

The logprobs feature allowed the author to construct a weighted response output for each inputted client-provision pairing that represents ChatGPT’s landscape of potential responses in a single number. The author created each client-provision prompt’s corresponding weighted response by utilizing the five most common responses for each prompt. For example, the mathematics behind the average weighted response when ChatGPT advises an individual client about the “Premises” provision of the lease is shown in Figure 1 and described below.

Figure 1. Weighted Response Calculation for Individual Client “Premises” Provision

First, each of the top five response values were multiplied by their corresponding probabilities, which were extracted from the log probabilities provided by OpenAI’s API. Then, these individually weighted values (shown in Figure 1 under the “Response × Probability” column) were summed. For the “Premises” provision and individual client prompt in Figure 1, this sum totaled approximately 31.095. Then, the individual probabilities of the five most likely outputs were summed; in Figure 1’s example, that total equaled approximately 0.9798, or 97.98%. This total conveys that approximately 97.98% of ChatGPT’s responses to this particular client-provision prompt were either 25, 50, 75, 20, or 85. Finally, the “Response × Probability” sum (approximately 31.095) was divided by the probability sum (approximately 0.9798) to calculate the weighted average response for this particular client-provision combination, or 31.73. Therefore, when ChatGPT is tasked with assisting an individual client and the provided provision of the lease agreement is the “Premises” provision, the AI program’s weighted average response is 31.73. Qualitatively, a result of 31.73 on the 0 to 100 scale facially suggests that ChatGPT may not be highly likely or enthusiastic to recommend to the individual that they should renegotiate this provision. However, the nature of this experiment was to derive comparisons between client types, so although the 31.73 value might suggest that ChatGPT is unlikely to be a zealous advocate,¹⁶⁵ this value must be compared with the AI program’s average weighted responses for other client types with the same “Premises” provision to be able to draw substantive conclusions about ChatGPT’s propensity to discriminate against certain types of legal clients.

As demonstrated above, this math derived a single numerical response for each client-provision pairing, facilitating objective comparisons between ChatGPT’s outputs when it is “hired” by different clients. The individual client’s average weighted response was used as a baseline measure by taking each non-individual client response and subtracting the corresponding individual response for the same lease provision to calculate a difference between the two values for each provision. Then, these difference calculations (one value for each provision of the lease agreement) were plotted. The visual representations of the differences between the average weighted responses for an individual client and a small corporation, large corporation, and nonprofit organization were constructed by plotting these differences on the following histogram plots.¹⁶⁶

Small Corporation Versus an Individual as a Client

Figure 2. Histogram of Differences in Average Weighted Responses Between a Small Corporation and an Individual Client

The histogram of differences between ChatGPT’s average weighted responses for a small corporation and those of an individual client demonstrates a few takeaways. First, the differences are clustered around zero, where zero indicates no numerical difference between ChatGPT’s responses when hired by either an individual or a small corporation. This finding suggests that, for the most part, ChatGPT treats individual and small

corporate clients similarly when tasked with advising them in a contract negotiation.

However, the histogram includes some instances of large differences between individual and small corporate responses, such as one provision where ChatGPT output a renegotiation suggestion for a small corporation that was over thirty points larger than the recommendation it provided the individual client. Notably, there were no instances of ChatGPT outputting a weighted response for the individual client that was greater than or equal to ten points higher than its corresponding small corporate output. On the other hand, there were multiple provisions where ChatGPT output renegotiation suggestions for small corporate clients that were ten or twenty points higher than the provision’s corresponding individual-client responses. These provisions, in addition to the rightward-skewed shape of the histogram in Figure 2, suggest that ChatGPT tends to recommend renegotiation for small corporate clients more often and to a greater extent than it does for individual clients.

Large Corporation Versus an Individual as a Client

Figure 3. Histogram of Differences in Average Weighted Responses Between a Large Corporation and an Individual

Figure 3, which shows the differences between ChatGPT’s responses for large corporate clients and individual clients, demonstrates similar patterns. Much like the small corporate client example in Figure 2, Figure 3 includes clustering around zero. This suggests that for a variety of provisions, ChatGPT will provide similar renegotiation recommendations for both individual and large corporate clients.

However, Figure 3 also includes the most dispersed results of the three client comparisons conducted in this experiment. The histogram includes a wide variety of difference values, most of which are relatively numerically different from one another—so different, in fact, that they fall into individual difference bins in Figure 3’s histogram. The dispersed nature of these results suggests that, while there is some clustering around zero, ChatGPT provides a wider range of negotiation recommendations when advising large corporate clients compared with other client types. This variability may indicate that ChatGPT’s training data assumes that large public corporations are more varied and complex than smaller, privately held corporations¹⁶⁷ and subsequently require a broader variety of negotiation advice or have greater market power to exert its will in a contract negotiation.¹⁶⁸ Additionally, the broader spread of the differences in responses for large corporate clients as compared with individual clients might also suggest that ChatGPT views large corporate clients as having more nuanced or varied negotiation capabilities and needs compared with individual clients.

Nonprofit Organization Versus an Individual as a Client

Figure 4. Histogram of Differences in Average Weighted Responses Between a Nonprofit Organization and Individual Client

Figure 4 visualizes the difference in weighted responses for a nonprofit organization as ChatGPT’s client as compared with an individual as its client. Here, we see the strongest clustering of results around zero of the three client comparisons studied in this experiment.¹⁶⁹ This suggests that, between corporations and nonprofit organizations, ChatGPT considers a nonprofit to be most analogous to an individual in the contracting space. This makes some intuitive sense if ChatGPT assumes that both individuals and nonprofit organizations tend to have less financial and political resources, market power, and influence over negotiations than large public or small private corporations.¹⁷⁰

However, despite this stronger clustering of differences around zero for nonprofit organizations, the histogram in Figure 4 continues to demonstrate the same trend seen for both corporation types: a rightward shift. This again suggests that ChatGPT favors nonprofit organizations over individuals in the negotiation space by more strongly or commonly recommending renegotiation to them, potentially because the model perceives individuals as having less power than nonprofit organizations to effectively negotiate for favorable provisions.

D. Overall Trends and Conclusions

Figure 5. Histogram of Differences in Average Weighted Responses Across All Four Client Types

Figure 5 is an overlay of the results from Figures 2, 3, and 4. Taken as a whole, while there is some clustering around zero, the rightward shift in the data demonstrates that ChatGPT tends to recommend renegotiation to (1) large, public corporations; (2) small, privately held corporations; and (3) nonprofit organizations more often and to a greater extent than it does when its client is an individual. Additionally, there are few occurrences of negative values on the combined histogram, which represent when ChatGPT outputted an individual client renegotiation value that was higher than the value outputted for any of the other client types for a given provision. Collectively, these trends suggest that ChatGPT may discriminate against individuals when “hired” to consult a contract negotiation by recommending

less favorable terms or negotiation strategies to an individual than it would to other types of clients.¹⁷¹

Interestingly, the minimum differences for the small corporation, large corporation, and nonprofit organization clients were -5.82, -8.42, and -5.36, respectively. These values represent the provisions for which ChatGPT most strongly recommended negotiation to an individual client as compared with other client types. Conversely, the maximum differences, which represent the instances when ChatGPT most strongly recommended the small corporation, large corporation, and nonprofit organization to negotiate as compared with an individual client, are significantly larger than the minimum differences. The maximum differences for the small corporation, large corporation, and nonprofit organization were 39.28, 22.68, and 29.43, respectively. Taken together with each client type’s mean differences (3.98, 2.99, and 3.71, respectively), this data demonstrates the systematic disadvantage in negotiation advising that individual clients experience compared with their corporate or nonprofit counterparts when using ChatGPT to assist in a contract negotiation.

E. Shortcomings

Although the findings of this empirical study are intriguing, there are some important caveats to note as well. First, the author chose to specifically use OpenAI’s GPT-4 Turbo model for this experiment, meaning that its results may not be readily generalizable to other OpenAI or AI models. Additionally, to best balance creativity with coherence, the author set the API’s temperature to 0.7. Temperature is a parameter value that controls how often ChatGPT outputs a less likely response; in essence, it is a measure of how random or creative the model’s responses are.¹⁷² The author initially tested the experiment with GPT-4 Turbo’s default temperature of 1 but ultimately tamped the parameter down to 0.7 in an effort to replicate the deterministic nature of legal advising.¹⁷³ The author also decided to use only the top five logprobs, rather than more, in conducting this analysis.¹⁷⁴ Both the temperature and top logprob decisions were made in an effort to replicate an individual user’s experience on ChatGPT while maintaining consistency across various API code executions.¹⁷⁵

Unfortunately, while these decisions were necessary to conduct the research, they also inherently shaped its results. Any modification of the temperature or number of requested logprobs alters ChatGPT’s renegotiation recommendations. Furthermore, this style of research does not easily facilitate demonstrating statistically significant findings—such as with a p-value used in traditional statistical analyses—because the model generates different outputs each time the code is run. As a result, these findings are not readily replicable, which is an unfortunate nature of conducting social science experimentation with the black boxes that are AI models.¹⁷⁶

Beyond technical limitations, other factors may impact the generalizability of this study’s findings. Only one type of contract, a lease agreement with thirty boilerplate provisions, was used in this research. Future scholars can expand upon this work by incorporating new and additional types of contracts and more detailed or varied provisions into this study’s framework to investigate if AI models discriminate against individuals when contracting in different contexts or with multiple types of contracts. Additionally, given that ChatGPT is a large language model, it is likely that the exact phrasing of the prompts used in this research impacted the model’s recommendations. Therefore, future scholarship can include a greater diversity of prompt language to determine if these findings hold across different prompting styles and approaches.

Similarly, additional research can incorporate more specific details about the AI model’s client when soliciting negotiation advice, whether in the contract itself or by expanding on the details included when contextualizing the prompt for the AI model. Inclusion of greater detail in a future study may determine if the use of specific company or individual names or other information results in similar algorithmic discrimination patterns. Greater contextualization is also more likely to align with real-world uses of AI modeling in contract negotiation, as the user would probably provide information about themself, the other party, and the deal at hand while soliciting assistance from an AI model.

Additionally, another version of this research might request AI’s assistance in renegotiating a contract that initially includes blatantly favorable (or unfavorable) provisions for the client. This arrangement may demonstrate different findings than an experiment conducted with relatively neutral starter provisions would, like those used here. The author intentionally used neutral lease provisions in this case to facilitate easier comparisons between client types and force ChatGPT to rely on its training data in making renegotiation recommendations rather than following an implicit suggestion to renegotiate provisions that are blatantly unfavorable (or vice versa).

Another alternative experiment design might use iterative follow-up prompts, rather than a single prompt, to solicit advice from the AI model because the language and structure of the prompt used to solicit advice may influence the AI model’s recommendations. For example, uploading a contract to ChatGPT and asking it a leading question such as “Should I negotiate Provision A?” may result in the AI model suggesting renegotiation more often or to a stronger degree than a broadly phrased prompt that asks ChatGPT what it thinks about the provision. Furthermore, this experiment used a numeric scale to gather ChatGPT’s outputs in a form that was easily and objectively comparable across client types. The 0 to 100 scale used in this Note’s empirical framework inherently assumes that this continuum is representative of the quality and strength of the renegotiation advice that ChatGPT would output in plain English to a real-world client. In real life, an AI model’s output would be substantive—it would tell the user in plain English what it thinks of the provision, whether or not to renegotiate it, and why. Therefore, it may be worthwhile for future research to solicit and examine substantive outputs and assess whether those outputs are equally clear, definite, and confident across different client types.

Although this study’s findings have limitations that are common to empirical research, this Note offers novel insights into algorithmic discrimination in the contracting space. Plausibly, ChatGPT discriminates against individuals when tasked with advising them in a contract negotiation—as evidenced by the AI model suggesting renegotiation to individual clients less often and to a smaller degree than it does when advising other types of clients.

As noted above, additional scholarship can expand upon the research implemented in this Note to strengthen this conclusion. If future research confirms algorithmic discrimination in the contracting space, then AI models must be retrained to prevent further exacerbation of existing inequalities. If AI models discriminate against individuals as their contracting client, this behavior may worsen inequities between those who have the resources to renegotiate favorable contract terms (such as corporate firms) and those who do not (individuals, for example) and are therefore more likely to rely on AI as an accessible contract negotiation tool.¹⁷⁷

VIII. ENOUGH NEGATIVITY—WHAT IS AI GOOD AT?

While AI has a plethora of disadvantages that hinder its applicability to contract drafting and negotiation, it does have advantages in limited legal applications. For instance, given its ability to summarize information quickly and accurately, AI is a prime candidate for administrative, clerical, or other summary tasks. A number of these types of AI applications already exist, such as Evisort,¹⁷⁸ a contract workflow management program. AI can also streamline a law firm’s tracking of its billable hours (e.g., Clio AI¹⁷⁹). Furthermore, AI technology can prove useful in speeding up legal research by summarizing documents, as seen with LexisNexis’s Protégé.¹⁸⁰ As a rule of thumb, AI is best suited for tasks that do not require judgment. Unlike billing or other administrative tasks, contract drafting and negotiation requires immense judgment, which is why AI technology is better suited for legal uses other than contracting.

CONCLUSION

Artificial intelligence technology has taken the world by storm in recent years. Nearly every industry has experimented with new and innovative applications of AI technology, and the legal profession is no exception. Despite this enthusiasm, transactional attorneys should pause and seriously consider the negative implications and serious challenges involved when applying AI technology to the contracting space before they attempt to implement AI models into their practice. At the same time, it is important to remain mindful of the distinction between the “practice of the . . . [law]” and the “business of . . . [a law] firm[].”¹⁸¹ Given the contract law issues, equity concerns, legal profession challenges, and accuracy problems that abound when AI models draft and negotiate legal contracts, AI may be better suited to assist attorneys with administrative business tasks rather than the practice of law itself. This limitation on the use of AI in the contracting space is further underscored by ChatGPT’s tendency to discriminate against individuals when asked to assist them in contract negotiations, as demonstrated by the empirical research presented in this Note.

On the other hand, those determined to use AI in the contracting space may find it more useful in an in-house setting than in a traditional law firm. The typical in-house counsel functions as a “jack-of-all-trades” for their employer, managing multiple projects and legal practice areas simultaneously. Additionally, in-house counsel usually manages standard form contracts, particularly in cases when their business holds significant market power in negotiations with other parties. Maintaining a consistent client (i.e., the business) and contractual structure over multiple contract cycles would allow an AI program to detect familiar patterns and better understand the context and complexity needed to tailor contracts to the business’s needs. Furthermore, an experienced human in-house attorney may be able to manually adjust for any discriminatory patterns in an AI model’s outputted negotiation suggestions and provisions. Finally, the research presented in this Note indicates that large public and small private corporations face a lower risk of AI-driven discrimination in contract drafting and negotiation compared with other clients, such as individuals. Therefore, in an in-house attorney’s busy, consistent, and controlled setting, AI models may prove to have some utility.

However, technological innovation has its limits, and AI models are not yet suited for broad applications in legal contracting and negotiation. While this author is eager to see how AI developers and legal professionals address the current challenges of applying AI to contract drafting and negotiation—particularly, AI’s discriminatory tendencies—she is also reassured that transactional attorneys still enjoy some level of job security, at least for now.

Attachment A: Commercial Real Estate Lease Provisions

PREMISES

Landlord hereby leases to Tenant and Tenant hereby leases from Landlord those certain premises (the ‘Premises’) consisting of approximately _______ square feet located at _______________________, as more particularly described in Exhibit A attached hereto and incorporated herein by reference.

TERM.

The term of this Lease shall be for a period of ______ years, commencing on ____________, 20___ (the ‘Commencement Date’) and ending on ____________, 20___ (the ‘Expiration Date’), unless sooner terminated as provided herein.

BASE RENT.

Tenant shall pay to Landlord as Base Rent for the Premises, without any setoff or deduction, the annual sum of $_______________ payable in equal monthly installments of $_______________ in advance on the first day of each month during the Term.

SECURITY DEPOSIT.

Upon execution of this Lease, Tenant shall deposit with Landlord the sum of $_______________ as security for the faithful performance by Tenant of all terms, covenants, and conditions of this Lease. If Tenant fails to pay rent or other charges due hereunder, or otherwise defaults with respect to any provision of this Lease, Landlord may use, apply or retain all or any portion of the Security Deposit to cure such default or to compensate Landlord for any loss or damage resulting from such default.

PERMITTED USE.

Tenant shall use and occupy the Premises solely for _______________________ and for no other purpose without the prior written consent of Landlord.

OPERATING EXPENSES.

In addition to Base Rent, Tenant shall pay as Additional Rent Tenant’s proportionate share of all Operating Expenses. ‘Operating Expenses’ shall mean all costs and expenses incurred by Landlord in connection with the ownership, management, operation, maintenance, repair, and replacement of the Building and Property, including but not limited to: property taxes and assessments, insurance premiums, utilities, management fees, common area

maintenance, landscaping, and repairs and maintenance not required to be performed by Tenant.

MAINTENANCE AND REPAIRS.

Landlord shall maintain in good repair the structural portions of the Building, including the foundation, exterior walls, structural portions of the roof, and common areas. Tenant shall, at Tenant’s sole cost and expense, maintain the Premises in good condition and repair, including all interior non-structural portions of the Premises, such as doors, windows, glass, and utility systems exclusively serving the Premises.

ALTERATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS.

Tenant shall not make any alterations, additions, or improvements to the Premises without the prior written consent of Landlord, which consent shall not be unreasonably withheld for non-structural alterations costing less than $____________. All alterations shall be made at Tenant’s sole cost and expense and shall become the property of Landlord upon the expiration or termination of this Lease.

INSURANCE REQUIREMENTS.

Tenant shall, at Tenant’s expense, obtain and keep in force during the Term of this Lease a policy of commercial general liability insurance with coverage of not less than $____________ per occurrence and $____________ general aggregate. Tenant shall also maintain property insurance covering Tenant’s personal property, fixtures, and equipment. Landlord shall be named as an additional insured on Tenant’s liability policies.

INDEMNIFICATION.

Tenant shall indemnify, defend, and hold Landlord harmless from any and all claims, damages, expenses, and liabilities arising from Tenant’s use of the Premises or from any activity permitted by Tenant in or about the Premises. Landlord shall indemnify, defend, and hold Tenant harmless from any and all claims, damages, expenses, and liabilities arising from Landlord’s negligence or willful misconduct.

ASSIGNMENT AND SUBLETTING.

Tenant shall not assign this Lease or sublet all or any part of the Premises without the prior written consent of Landlord, which consent shall not be unreasonably withheld. Any assignment or subletting without such consent shall be void and shall constitute a default under this Lease.

DEFAULT AND REMEDIES.

The occurrence of any of the following shall constitute a material default and breach of this Lease by Tenant: (a) failure to pay rent when due if the failure continues for ____ days after written notice has been given to Tenant, (b) abandonment of the Premises, or (c) failure to perform any other provision of this Lease if the failure is not cured within ____ days after written notice has been given to Tenant. Upon any default, Landlord shall have all remedies available under applicable law.

QUIET ENJOYMENT.

Landlord covenants that Tenant, upon paying the rent and performing the covenants herein, shall peacefully and quietly have, hold, and enjoy the Premises during the Term hereof.

ENTRY BY LANDLORD.

Landlord reserves the right to enter the Premises at reasonable times to inspect the same, to show the Premises to prospective purchasers, lenders, or tenants, and to make necessary repairs. Except in cases of emergency, Landlord shall give Tenant reasonable notice prior to entry.

SIGNAGE.

Tenant shall not place any sign upon the Premises without Landlord’s prior written consent. All signs shall comply with applicable laws and ordinances.

COMPLIANCE WITH LAWS.

Tenant shall comply with all laws, orders, ordinances, and other public requirements now or hereafter affecting the Premises or the use thereof. Landlord shall comply with all laws, orders, ordinances, and other public requirements relating to the Building and common areas.

ENVIRONMENTAL PROVISIONS.

Tenant shall not cause or permit any Hazardous Materials to be brought upon, kept, or used in or about the Premises by Tenant without the prior written consent of Landlord. Tenant shall indemnify, defend, and hold Landlord harmless from any and all claims, judgments, damages, penalties, fines, costs, liabilities, or losses arising from the presence of Hazardous Materials on the Premises which are brought upon, kept, or used by Tenant.

SUBORDINATION.

This Lease is and shall be subordinate to all existing and future mortgages and deeds of trust on the property. Tenant agrees to execute any subordination, non-disturbance and attornment agreements required by any lender, provided that such lender agrees not to disturb Tenant’s possession of the Premises so long as Tenant is not in default under this Lease.

FORCE MAJEURE.

Neither party shall be deemed in default hereof nor liable for damages arising from its failure to perform its duties or obligations hereunder if such failure is due to causes beyond its reasonable control, including, but not limited to, acts of God, acts of civil or military authority, fires, floods, earthquakes, strikes, lockouts, epidemics, or pandemics.

HOLDOVER.

If Tenant remains in possession of the Premises after the expiration or termination of the Term without Landlord’s written consent, Tenant shall be deemed a tenant at sufferance and shall pay rent at _____ times the rate in effect immediately prior to such expiration or termination for the entire holdover period.

SURRENDER OF PREMISES.

Upon expiration or earlier termination of this Lease, Tenant shall surrender the Premises to Landlord in good condition, ordinary wear and tear and damage by fire or other casualty excepted. All alterations, additions, and improvements made to the Premises by Tenant shall remain and become the property of Landlord, unless Landlord requires their removal.

DISPUTE RESOLUTION.

Any dispute arising under this Lease shall be first submitted to mediation, and if mediation is unsuccessful, then to binding arbitration in accordance with the rules of the American Arbitration Association. The costs of mediation and arbitration shall be shared equally by the parties.

NOTICES.

All notices required or permitted hereunder shall be in writing and may be delivered in person (by hand or by courier) or sent by registered or certified mail, postage prepaid, return receipt requested, or by overnight courier, and shall be deemed given when received at the addresses specified in this Lease, or at such other address as may be specified in writing by either party.

OPTION TO RENEW.

Provided Tenant is not in default hereunder, Tenant shall have the option to renew this Lease for ____ additional period(s) of ____ years each on the same terms and conditions as set forth herein, except that the Base Rent shall be adjusted to the then-prevailing market rate. Tenant shall exercise this option by giving Landlord written notice at least ____ days prior to the expiration of the then-current term.

OPTION TO EXPAND.

Subject to availability, Tenant shall have the right of first offer to lease additional space in the Building that becomes available during the Term. Landlord shall notify Tenant in writing of the availability of such space and the terms upon which Landlord is willing to lease such space. Tenant shall have ____ days from receipt of such notice to accept or reject such offer.

RELOCATION.

Landlord reserves the right, upon providing Tenant with not less than ____ days’ prior written notice, to relocate Tenant to other premises within the Building or Project that are comparable in size, utility, and condition to the Premises. In the event of such relocation, Landlord shall pay all reasonable costs of moving Tenant’s property and improving the new premises to substantially the same standard as the Premises.

PARKING AND TRANSPORTATION.

Tenant shall be entitled to use ____ parking spaces in the Building’s parking facility on a non-exclusive basis. Landlord reserves the right to designate parking areas for Tenant and Tenant’s agents and employees.

BUILDING RULES AND REGULATIONS.

Tenant shall comply with the rules and regulations of the Building adopted and altered by Landlord from time to time, a copy of which is attached hereto as Exhibit B. Landlord shall not be responsible to Tenant for the non-performance of any of said rules and regulations by any other tenants or occupants of the Building.

GOVERNING LAW.

This Lease shall be governed by and construed in accordance with the laws of the State of ______________. If any provision of this Lease is found to be invalid or unenforceable, the remainder of this Lease shall not be affected thereby.

ENTIRE AGREEMENT.

This Lease contains the entire agreement between the parties and supersedes all prior agreements, whether written or oral, with respect to the subject matter hereof. This Lease may not be modified except by a written instrument executed by both parties.

Attachment B: Excel Spreadsheet & Python Code

The Excel spreadsheet of OpenAI’s API outputs and the Python code used to obtain this data is on file with the author and available upon request.

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 239

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Carly Snell*

*Executive Articles Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 99; J.D. Candidate 2026, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; Master of Public Policy Candidate 2027, University of Southern California Sol Price School of Public Policy; B.S., Mathematics, 2023, University of Arizona; B.A., Political Science, 2023, University of Arizona. I extend my sincere gratitude to Professor Jonathan H. Choi for his invaluable guidance, my friends and family for their unwavering support, and the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their hard work and dedication in preparing my Note for publication.

The Default Rule and Due Process: Diverging Interpretations of “The Charging Document” Requirement in Extradition Treaties

July 2025July 2025Jacob M. Karlin*

INTRODUCTION

The United States is a party to over one hundred bilateral extradition treaties with foreign governments.¹ These treaties allow the U.S. and foreign countries to facilitate the transfer of individuals accused of crimes to the jurisdictions seeking to prosecute them.² Extradition is an ancient practice: processes resembling extradition have existed since antiquity, and the United States has entered into versions of bilateral extradition treaties and received extradition requests since shortly after the country’s founding in the 18th century.³

As the world continues to grow smaller by means of technological advances and ever-increasing accessibility to international travel, extradition has become increasingly important as a means of international law enforcement.⁴ This growth in extradition has forced the judiciary of the United States to face unique issues of law that relate to the constitutional rights of the individuals whose extradition from the United States is requested by foreign countries. In that same vein, the recognition and enforcement of international human rights law has grown in the last century, and as rules of international human rights law have become binding on the United States judiciary, courts are faced with new, conflicting demands of both extradition requests and international law-derived rights of relators (that is, the individuals whose extradition is requested by foreign countries).

In 2023, two federal circuit courts analyzed the phrase “the charging document” in two bilateral extradition treaties: the Fourth Circuit reviewed an extradition treaty between the United States and Lithuania, and the Ninth Circuit reviewed an extradition treaty between the United States and Peru. The Fourth and Ninth Circuits disagreed over how to approach the phrase and its effect on the extradition process. In Manrique v. Kolc, the Ninth Circuit found “the charging document” requirement in the U.S.-Peru Extradition Treaty to be ambiguous and subject to multiple interpretations. Utilizing court precedents on treaty interpretation, the Ninth Circuit deferred to the executive branch’s interpretation of the phrase. In doing so, the court found that Peru had provided the necessary documents to satisfy the “charging document” requirement. On the other hand, the Fourth Circuit found that the phrase was clear and unambiguous, holding in Vitkus v. Blinken that the judiciary was compelled to decline Lithuania’s extradition request upon analyzing the “charging document” requirement in the U.S.-Lithuania Extradition Treaty. The Fourth Circuit found that the inclusion of “the charging document” in the U.S.-Lithuania treaty was a requirement that Lithuania had not satisfied when it had presented prosecutorial documents to the Secretary of State in an extradition request. The court rejected the Secretary of State’s argument as to the adequacy of Lithuania’s submitted documents.

The discrepancy between these two circuit courts illustrates how the judiciary’s deference to the executive branch (a deference codified by the Supreme Court in the early 20th century and referred to in this Note as the “default rule”) in matters of extradition treaty interpretation has manifested in the 2020s. At least twenty-eight extradition treaties that the United States has entered into with foreign nations reference the “charging document” in their lists of documents that a foreign nation is required to provide in an extradition request to the United States.⁵ As the judiciary will likely be called to interpret the “charging document” in future extradition requests, the judiciary’s decision to give deference to the executive branch in interpreting this phrase merits attention. The interpretation of the “charging document” requirement implicates due process concerns of relators, given that the charging document requirement ensures that the country requesting extradition complies with the procedure outlined in its treaty. This Note argues that courts, when faced with extradition requests from countries whose treaties include the “charging document” requirement, are bound by precedent to apply the default rule in a way that may conflict with a relator’s constitutional, due process rights. This Note also contends that this form of deferential interpretation to the executive branch may conflict with the fundamental right of due process afforded to relators by international law. However, departing from executive deference affects the United States’ foreign relations with other sovereign countries—this Note will briefly explore this ramification as well.

Part I of this Note provides an overview of how extradition treaties are utilized by the United States and how they are interpreted by both the executive and judicial branches. In brief, the statute governing extraditions in the United States bestows the judiciary with the responsibility of certifying an individual for extradition: the judiciary interprets the relevant extradition treaty to determine whether the person being sought by the requesting country may be certified as extraditable.⁶ Once the court certifies the extraditability of a relator, the Secretary of State has the discretion to either extradite the relator or deny the foreign country’s extradition request.⁷ Importantly, although extradition is neither a full trial nor a solely administrative function, relators are deemed to have certain constitutional rights when subject to extradition proceedings in the United States.⁸ However, the unique procedural characteristics of extradition do not align with notions of constitutionally mandated due process, as relators do not benefit from the constitutional protections that courts have recognized for criminal defendants.⁹ Judicial precedent also mandates that courts defer to the executive branch’s interpretation of extradition treaties.¹⁰ This deference has created friction between the judicial and executive branches, as the judiciary has been tasked with balancing relators’ due process rights against the executive branch’s foreign relations commitments to other sovereign nations. As the fundamental right to due process has been developed by international human rights bodies over the course of the 20th century, the judiciary’s deference to the executive branch has come into conflict with the advancement of due process as an international human right as well.¹¹

Part II surveys two appellate court cases decided in 2023, Vitkus v. Blinken and Manrique v. Kolc. In these cases, the Fourth and Ninth Circuits both analyzed “the charging document” requirement in extradition treaties, and in doing so, they exemplify the divergent approaches to granting deference to the executive branch in extradition procedures. In their divergent outcomes, these cases demonstrate the impact the default rule may have on a court’s decision to determine whether a relator is extraditable.

Part III of this Note analyzes the decisions of the Fourth and Ninth Circuits in Vitkus v. Blinken and Manrique v. Kolc. In analyzing the decisions, this Note argues that the Fourth Circuit’s avoidance of the default rule in reviewing “the charging document” requirement protects the relator from a potential infringement of their constitutional due process rights under domestic law, even at the cost of the executive branch’s ability to maintain foreign relations. The Fourth Circuit’s interpretation also respects the relator’s fundamental right to due process as established by international human rights law. This Note contends that the Fourth Circuit’s interpretation of a bilateral extradition treaty is one example of how the judiciary should approach the “charging document” requirement, notwithstanding other circumstances in the extradition process.

I. BACKGROUND

A.Executing Bilateral Extradition Treaties

The United States and foreign countries usually coordinate the extradition of relators through bilateral extradition treaties. A treaty is “[a]n agreement formally signed, ratified, or adhered to between two countries or sovereigns; [or] an international agreement concluded between two or more states in written form and governed by international law.”¹² In the United States, treaties are “international agreements made by the President with the advice and consent of the Senate in accordance with Article II, [S]ection 2 of the Constitution of the United States.”¹³ Extradition treaties are treaties that contain the general, agreed-upon terms of the extradition process that both signatories must abide by. There are various forms of extradition treaties¹⁴: there are bilateral extradition treaties, which are “concluded between [a country adopting the law] and a foreign country,” and multilateral treaties, which contain “provisions governing extradition of persons who are present in the territory of [country adopting the law].”¹⁵

The United States has entered into extradition agreements with foreign countries since shortly after its founding in the 18th century.¹⁶ The United States primarily executes bilateral extradition treaties.¹⁷ This means that for the United States to engage in an extradition proceeding, the United States usually must have executed an extradition treaty directly with the foreign country requesting extradition in order to consider an extradition request.¹⁸

The extradition process falls under the umbrella of the United States’ foreign relations responsibilities and therefore, extradition is considered by the United States as a responsibility of the executive branch. The executive branch is authorized to manage the extradition process “by virtue of its constitutional power to conduct foreign relations.”¹⁹ The treaties that the executive branch enters into on behalf of the United States can be divided into two kinds of treaties: self-executing treaties, which are akin to legislative acts, and non-self-executing treaties, which are treaties that the federal legislature is required to ratify and enforce.²⁰ Self-executing treaties do not need legislation to be enacted, as their self-executing nature imbues them with the power of domestically-created federal legislation that supersedes both state law and prior federal law.²¹ Bilateral extradition treaties are self-executing.²² Upon ratification of the bilateral extradition treaty with a foreign government, the legislative branch enacts statutes, based on the terms of the extradition treaties, that govern the procedures by which the executive and judicial branches respond to extradition requests.²³ When domestic legislation and treaty provisions conflict, treaty provisions “prevail.”²⁴

A pertinent aspect of treaty enforcement for purposes of this Note is the inclusion of the “documents required” section in an extradition treaty. In the modern era of extradition treaty drafting, extradition treaties usually list the required documents a requesting foreign country must provide to the Secretary of State to initiate proceedings in the United States.²⁵ Under the Revised Manuals on the Model Treaty on Extradition and on the Model Treaty Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters (the “Manual”), the UN provides recommendations on drafting extradition treaties, including how parties should list the documents that accompany an extradition request:

[T]he request must contain a precise description of the person sought; a copy of the applicable legal provisions (or a statement of the relevant law), a statement of the penalty that can be imposed for the offence; proof of the enforceable sentence or of the warrant of arrest (as the case requires) and any other documents having the same force; and an exposition of the facts for which extradition is requested (including a description of the acts or omissions constituting the alleged offence and an indication of the time and place of its commission). A reference to the basis of jurisdiction has been found to be useful. Additional requirements apply where the person has been convicted of an offence in his or her absence and where the person has been convicted of an offence but no sentence has yet been imposed.²⁶

The Manual explains that in order “[t]o obtain speedy and efficient execution of requests, [the treaty] should provide a precise description of the information to be included in the request,” and that “[t]he treaty will then act as a guide for those who are called upon to provide the information.”²⁷ Given the discrepancy between countries’ legal systems, the Manual recommends that the negotiating parties draft the treaty with reference to specific documents relevant to each country’s criminal procedure to avoid erroneous interpretation of foreign criminal procedure.²⁸ Although guidance on how parties should draft treaties is publicly available, drafting histories of treaties are rarely accessible to the public.²⁹ As such, this Note does not address how bilateral extradition treaties are negotiated and executed by two sovereign nations.

B.The Extradition Process in the United States: Foreign Requests

The extradition process is initiated when a foreign government makes an extradition request to the U.S. State Department. Usually, a foreign government makes this request by providing the supporting documents that are listed in the “documents required” section of the relevant extradition treaty.³⁰ The procedure for responding to an extradition request is codified in 18 U.S.C. § 3184.³¹ Under 18 U.S.C. § 3184, once a foreign country with an extradition treaty with the United States has submitted an extradition request to the Department of State, a warrant is issued for the wanted individual.³² Once the individual is located and arrested, “any justice or judge of the United States” may hear evidence of the “criminality” being heard and considered, and “[i]f, on such hearing, he deems the evidence sufficient to sustain the charge . . . he shall certify the same . . . to the Secretary of State . . . for the surrender of such person, according to the stipulations of the treaty or convention.”³³

When a court hears evidence of the criminality of an individual sought by a foreign government, “the extradition magistrate examines the treaty to ascertain whether it allows extradition in the circumstances presented by the relator.”³⁴ Generally, the magistrate is required to review whether the government has established:

(1) probable cause that the relator committed the alleged offense at the requesting country; (2) the offense upon which extradition is requested is extraditable according to the applicable treaty; (3) the offense in question constitutes a crime [in] both the requesting country and the United States (“dual criminality”); (4) an enforceable extradition treaty exists between the United States and the requesting country; and (5) the arrested individual is the person sought by the requesting country.³⁵

The extradition court does not determine the “guilt or innocence” of the relator.³⁶ The extradition court is limited to hearing the evidence of a case to determine whether “the facts alleged constitute a crime in the prosecuting country”; interpreting the provisions of the treaty to ensure their applicability to the extradition request; and ensuring that the extradition process complies with the relevant constitutional provisions.³⁷ Given its responsibilities, the extradition court’s role in the extradition process is akin to its role in a preliminary hearing in United States criminal court.³⁸ Following the extradition court’s findings on the extradition request, the extradition court may enter “an order certifying extradition to the Secretary of State.”³⁹ Once the judiciary certifies the relator for extradition, the certification is passed on to the Secretary of State, who has the ultimate discretion to either accept or deny the extradition request.⁴⁰

The judiciary’s role in extradition proceedings is somewhat “constrained” by the executive branch.⁴¹ The judiciary is “limited because it cannot enjoin, prohibit, or mandate the executive’s negotiation of an agreement or a treaty, nor can it enjoin or mandate the executive’s exercise of discretion to request a relator’s extradition or to refuse to grant extradition although the terms of the applicable treaty have been satisfied.”⁴² The court reviewing a request for extradition does not determine whether the accused is innocent or guilty, as the extradition process only serves to begin the “criminal proceedings against an accused” individual—the foreign court ultimately decides the guilt or innocence of the accused.⁴³ Therefore, the extradition court in the United States is required to review whether a foreign country’s extradition request satisfies the provisions of the relevant treaty “and that no valid defense or exception to extradition is in order.”⁴⁴

Importantly, extradition orders by the extradition court can only be challenged through petitions for writs of habeas corpus,⁴⁵ and habeas petitions “can challenge detention by the government if [the detention] is in violation of the Constitution, laws or treaties of the United States.”⁴⁶ In general, when considering a habeas petition following a magistrate’s extradition order, the reviewing court considers the following factors: (1) the jurisdiction of the judge presiding over the extradition proceeding; (2) the jurisdiction of the relevant court over the relator; (3) the applicable treaty provisions and their requirements; (4) “the character of the crime charged and whether” the crime is included within the treaty provisions; and (5) whether the government has provided evidence to substantiate a claim of extraditability.⁴⁷

C.Extradition Treaty Interpretation in the United States

The magistrate court is responsible for reviewing an extradition treaty to determine whether the requesting country has satisfied the requirements listed in the extradition treaty.⁴⁸ When an extradition court finds that written portions of a treaty are ambiguous and subject to multiple meanings, the court is tasked with interpreting those ambiguous terms. The interpretation of treaty provisions highlights the relationship between the judiciary and the executive branches in enforcing the provisions of an extradition treaty. The executive branch “has authority to determine the interpretation of an international agreement to be asserted by the U.S. in its relations with other states,” but “[c]ourts in the U.S. have final authority to interpret an international agreement for purposes of applying it.”⁴⁹

The judiciary analyzes extradition treaties in the same manner that it analyzes contracts and statutes.⁵⁰ Courts begin their analysis of treaties by first examining the text of the treaty, or the four corners of the document.⁵¹ Much like the interpretation of statutes or contracts, “[w]hen interpreting a treaty, [courts] begin with the text of the treaty and the context in which the written words are used.”⁵² If the court finds that a treaty’s language is clear and unambiguous, the court will cease its analysis of the meaning of the words of the treaty and “apply the words of the treaty as written.”⁵³

When interpreting treaty provisions, courts may find that the treaty provisions, much like statutory provisions, are ambiguous. When courts encounter ambiguous provisions in treaties, they expand their scope of focus to incorporate intrinsic and extrinsic evidence to evaluate the text of the treaty “in light of its object and purpose.”⁵⁴ In understanding ambiguous terms, courts are meant to undertake an interpretation in a “ ‘holistic endeavor’ and must account for the statute’s ‘full language, text, language as well as punctuation, structure and subject matter.’ ”⁵⁵ In ascertaining ambiguous terms in a treaty, courts “may look . . . to the history of the treaty, the negotiations, and the practical construction adopted by the parties.”⁵⁶

One of the most important tools of extradition treaty interpretation used by the judiciary, and which scholars and courts have both criticized and utilized since the Supreme Court issued its opinion in 1933, is the extradition treaty interpretation principle established in Factor v. Laubenheimer.⁵⁷ Factor v. Laubenheimer involved an extradition request by the United Kingdom for Factor, who had allegedly committed a financial crime there and fled to Illinois. Factor argued that because Illinois did not have a comparable criminal statute, the extradition treaty between the United States and the United Kingdom could not be used to extradite him.⁵⁸ In one of the most influential and long-standing guides on how courts should interpret treaties, the court in Factor considered whether a broad or narrow interpretation of a treaty should be utilized by an extradition court:

In choosing between conflicting interpretations of a treaty obligation, a narrow and restricted construction is to be avoided as not consonant with the principles deemed controlling in the interpretation of international agreements. Considerations which should govern the diplomatic relations between nations, and the good faith of treaties, as well, require that their obligations should be liberally construed so as to effect the apparent intention of the parties to secure equality and reciprocity between them. For that reason if a treaty fairly admits of two constructions, one restricting the rights which may be claimed under it, and the other enlarging it, the more liberal construction is to be preferred.⁵⁹

This construction—that when faced with two possible constructions of an ambiguous term in a treaty, courts should broaden the interpretive scope of the extradition treaty in favor of the executive branch—is referred to as the default rule of extradition treaty interpretation.⁶⁰ This rule has been used to argue that, as the purpose of the extradition treaty is to extradite individuals, courts should interpret treaty provisions broadly to fulfill that purpose.⁶¹ This principle has been articulated by various courts since 1933, such as the Sixth Circuit in the 2016 case Martinez v. United States, in which the court stated that “ambiguity in an extradition treaty must be construed in favor of the ‘rights’ the ‘parties’ may claim under it,” and in extradition proceedings, the parties are the countries and the “right the treaty creates is the right of one country to demand the extradition of fugitives in the other country,” as “[t]he point of an extradition after all is to facilitate extradition, as any country surely would agree at the time of signing.”⁶²

The judiciary’s deference to the executive’s interpretation of international treaties is noteworthy.⁶³ This deference stems from the executive branch’s role in foreign relations. Since United States v. Curtiss-Wright Export Corporation in 1936, the U.S. Supreme Court has codified the executive branch’s power in foreign relations by proclaiming the “exclusive power of the President as the sole organ of the federal government in the field of international relations.”⁶⁴ Later, in Kolovrat v. Oregon, the Supreme Court stated that “[w]hile courts interpret treaties for themselves, the meaning given them by the departments of government particularly charged with their negotiation and enforcement is given great weight.”⁶⁵ Additionally, courts will consider how the parties to the treaty constructed and interact with the treaty, as such behavior informs its application.⁶⁶

There are foreign policy concerns when courts are called to interpret extradition treaties. Courts are likely to give deference to an executive branch’s interpretation given its role “in diplomatic negotiation with other countries, on the ground that the U.S. should speak with one voice, than to one adopted by the Executive in relation to a case before the courts, especially where individual rights or interests are involved.”⁶⁷ There are also concerns that the executive branch, in finding that an extradition request is inadequate, should not “expand the obligations of another nation in a treaty.”⁶⁸ In 2020, the Supreme Court noted that it has “never provided a full explanation of the basis for [its] practice of giving weight to the Executive’s interpretation of a treaty. Nor [has it] delineated the limitations of this practice.”⁶⁹ As it is generally understood that United States’ compliance with extradition treaties is beneficial to U.S. foreign policy, the executive branch’s interpretation of an extradition treaty that favors a relator’s extradition has considerable influence in extradition court proceedings.⁷⁰

D.Due Process in the Extradition Process

Relators who are physically present in the United States and who a foreign government wishes to extradite are subject to the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.⁷¹ Relators are also the beneficiaries of due process under international law. It is worthwhile to explore the domestic and international understandings of due process: both understandings of due process apply to extradition proceedings that occur in the United States.

Procedural due process “asks whether the government has followed the proper procedures when it takes away life, liberty or property.”⁷² Due process is contextually dependent on the type of liberty interests over which a court or agency is ruling.⁷³ In considering due process claims, courts, depending on their context, are often compelled to balance the following factors established by the Court in Mathews v. Eldridge:

First, the private interest that will be affected by the official action; second, the risk of an erroneous deprivation of such interest through the procedures used, and the probable value, if any, of additional or substitute procedural safeguards; and finally, the Government’s interest, including the function involved and the fiscal and administrative burdens that the additional or substitute procedural requirement would entail.⁷⁴

Although the extradition process is neither a criminal proceeding nor a trial, the extradition process affects relators’ liberty interests; relators do enjoy Constitutional rights, albeit in a different capacity than those protections the courts recognize for criminal defendants.⁷⁵ Given that extradition in the United States is a “bifurcated procedure” between the executive and judiciary branches, extradition is considered an executive process under the executive branch of the government⁷⁶, and the judiciary is tasked with applying its expertise in statutory interpretation, evidentiary requirements, and understandings of probable cause as well as other related legal concepts.⁷⁷ The Ninth Circuit has found that extradition courts have discretion in conducting their proceedings—as relators are not criminal defendants in United States criminal courts, the courts do not need to follow the procedural safeguards enforced in criminal proceedings, such as the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure and the Federal Rules of Evidence.⁷⁸ Rather, their role is limited to “ensur[ing] that the government complies with the requirements of the extradition treaty and the extradition statute.”⁷⁹ The judiciary is mindful that the extradition process is an executive function, and thus attempts to balance the interests of the relators with the interests of the executive branch.⁸⁰

The Due Process Clause is applicable to the liberty interests of relators, as “the consequences of extradition—the forceful surrender of a relator to a foreign country for criminal prosecution and imprisonment—affect” a relator’s Constitutional rights.⁸¹ This is because “[r]elators face tremendous liberty losses” upon extradition, as the process is aimed at surrendering a relator to a foreign jurisdiction for criminal prosecution and imprisonment.⁸² Therefore, the court hearing the extradition case must ensure that the extradition proceeding comports with a relator’s right to due process “in a manner consistent with the Constitution.”⁸³

As the purpose and structure of an extradition hearing differs from those of domestic criminal and civil proceedings, courts have deemed that the amount of procedures, and therefore due process, owed to relators differs from the procedures that are owed to criminal defendants.⁸⁴ Unlike its application of the Mathews analysis to other categories of cases that involve the deprivation of liberty, extradition courts do not uniformly apply the Mathews analysis factors of due process to determine whether the relator has sufficient due process.⁸⁵ In reviewing challenges to the constitutionality of extradition proceedings, the judiciary has found that “the totality” of the proceedings conducted by both judicial and executive branch “comports with the requirements of the Fifth Amendment, in light of the substantial process afforded in the judicial phase and the executive’s broad discretion to decide matters of foreign policy.”⁸⁶ Courts find that the procedural requirements of 18 U.S.C. § 3186 and § 3184 are sufficiently protective of a relator’s due process rights and commensurate with the due process owed to relators to ensure that a relator is not extradited entirely “by Executive whim,” as the executive branch exercises its discretion “only if the magistrate determines that there is ‘evidence sufficient to sustain the charge under the provisions of the proper treaty.’ ”⁸⁷ The D.C. District Court rationalized the adequacy of the procedural due process given to relators in extradition proceedings:

[T]he risk of an erroneous deprivation absent an additional hearing conducted by the State Department and the furnishing of any unclassified documents relied upon is minimal . . . given [the relator’s] active role . . . in developing the record in his judicial proceedings and challenging the key determinations there, not to mention his ability to supplement the record in whatever way he wished before the State Department. Further, requiring the State Department to provide the additional opportunities for participation . . . would unnecessarily overtax Department resources without meaningfully expanding the scope of information considered and risks chilling the Department’s ability to freely obtain information and assurances from relevant foreign governments, which might be less willing to speak frankly if the information disclosed was not kept confidential.⁸⁸

International law also affords due process rights to relators in the extradition process; due process is a fundamental human right under customary international law.⁸⁹ For context, customary international law can be defined as the “general and consistent practice of states followed by them from a sense of legal obligation.”⁹⁰ The United States has signed the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the Convention on Torture, the Hostage Convention, and, along with “other treaties, the United States has agreed, with certain reservations, to be bound by their provisions and to incorporate them into U.S. law.”⁹¹ Within the United States, the federal judiciary has “applied rules of customary international law in countless cases since the founding of the Republic . . . treating customary international law rules in the same manner as U.S. treaties and other international agreements.”⁹² The United States is bound by customary international law on its treatment of human rights, as human rights standards “are binding [on the federal judiciary] as jus cogens (i.e., overriding principles) under international law”—human rights treaties “may provide guidance in determining contemporary human rights norms that should inform a court’s decisions in extradition proceedings.”⁹³ For the most part, as the judiciary has “treated rules of customary international law as rules of federal law,” the judiciary is compelled to uphold customary international law.⁹⁴

On the other hand, the principles of international law are made up of “rules of international law” that are “accepted as such by the international community of states . . . by derivation from general principles common to the major legal systems of the world.⁹⁵ Under principles of customary international law, due process is defined as “procedural norms . . . that are applicable to . . . limit governmental powers”—these norms include “[t]he right of equal access to courts, the right to equal treatment of litigants, the right to an effective remedy and the right to a fair hearing.”⁹⁶ Other aspects of the due process under international law include that “there shall be no common interest between the parties and the judge”⁹⁷ and that each party has a “reasonable opportunity of presenting [their] case . . . under conditions which do not place [them] at substantial disadvantage vis-à-vis [their] opponent.”⁹⁸ Importantly, as explored in Part III, another element of international due process is the “assurance that ‘the judiciary [is not] dominated by the political branches of government or by an opposing litigant . . . .’ ”⁹⁹ Charles T. Kotuby, Jr. and Luke Sobota, in General Principles of Law and International Due Process, outline the human rights conventions that affirm the obligation of sovereign nations to uphold the fundamental due process right of individuals:

The Inter-American Convention on Human Rights (IACHR)—building upon the principles set forth in “the Charter of the Organization of American States, in the American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man, and in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights”—imposes upon States the obligation to “respect the rights and freedoms” it enshrines “without any discrimination.” Included is the “right to a hearing, with due guarantees and within a reasonable time, by a competent, independent, and impartial tribunal, previously established by law.” The European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms follows a similar pattern, providing . . . that “everyone is entitled to a fair and public hearing within a reasonable time by an independent and impartial tribunal established by law.”¹⁰⁰

Within the U.S., the intersection of extradition and due process is especially poignant under the rule of non-inquiry. Non-inquiry is the concept that the judiciary is not compelled to inquire into the adequacy of the foreign proceedings to ensure that the proceedings in the foreign jurisdiction preceding the extradition request comport with “fundamental rights to due process”—this rule raises concerns about the judiciary’s role in complying with international due process requirements when responding to extradition requests from foreign jurisdictions.¹⁰¹ In reviewing the procedures of the requesting country, the Ninth Circuit has said that it gives “credence to foreign proceedings” and that it declines “to rule on the procedural requirements of foreign law out of respect for other nations’ sovereignty.”¹⁰² In doing so, the Ninth Circuit has understood the risk of “erroneous interpretation” of a foreign country’s legal system.¹⁰³ Courts generally see that the Secretary of State’s understanding of the treaty and of foreign criminal procedure should be considered as part of its considerations when interpreting a treaty document. This becomes especially important when questions regarding the foreign country’s political intentions for extraditing individuals are brought before the U.S. judiciary.

Relators often argue that the extradition proceedings lack due process even though the extradition process is not considered a full-fledged criminal trial.¹⁰⁴ These complaints relate to the statutes of limitations of crimes committed in foreign countries, the discretion of the court to consider whether the requesting country might torture the relator, the admissibility of hearsay evidence in extradition proceedings, and other findings that the procedure owed to relators is inadequate.¹⁰⁵ However, relators have little redress when they argue that extradition proceedings are violative of due process, as the standard for finding a procedural defect in the process is high: this is due to the unique nature of an extradition proceeding as a proceeding akin to a preliminary hearing. The judiciary often finds that extradition processes should not be encumbered by more procedure.¹⁰⁶ The judiciary has found that,

[S]o long as the United States has not breached a specific promise to an accused regarding his or her extradition, and bases its extradition decisions on diplomatic considerations without regard to such constitutionally impermissible factors as race, color, sex, national origin, religion, or political beliefs, and in accordance with such other exceptional constitutional limits as may exist because of particularly atrocious procedures or punishments employed by the foreign jurisdiction, those decisions will not be disturbed.¹⁰⁷

Accordingly, as the discretion to extradite lies with the executive branch, “[t]he judiciary has no authority to impose requirements on the decision-making process that go beyond the scope of what is required under the Constitution.”¹⁰⁸

II. INTERPRETING THE “CHARGING DOCUMENT”

A.Overview of the Circuit Split

Part II of this Note explores the difference in treatment of the phrase the “charging document” which the U.S. has included in at least twenty-eight bilateral extradition treaties.¹⁰⁹ Part I outlined the history and reasoning behind the different tools of interpretation courts utilize in interpreting extradition treaties, and the due process rights that relators are afforded in the extradition process. Part II will cover how these interpretation tools have been implemented by the judiciary in its treatment of extradition treaties that include “the charging document” requirement in 2023.

In 2023, the Ninth and Fourth Circuits were charged with interpreting the phrase “the charging document” in two bilateral extradition treaties: the Ninth Circuit analyzed a bilateral extradition treaty between the U.S. and Peru, and the Fourth Circuit analyzed a bilateral extradition treaty between the U.S. and Lithuania.¹¹⁰ These cases, Vitkus v. Blinken and Manrique v. Kolc, involved foreign nationals residing in the U.S. who were wanted by foreign countries for crimes allegedly committed by the foreign nationals in their respective countries of nationality. Both cases rose to the federal circuit courts after the foreign nationals petitioned for stays and preliminary injunctions on their extradition requests. The relators in each case argued that they were not extraditable as the foreign countries did not provide “the charging document,” a document listed under the required documents section of the relevant extradition treaties that a requesting country must provide in its extradition request. The two courts diverged over how to interpret the phrase, or even whether there was a need to interpret the phrase and apply the default rule. The implications of this divergence will be explored in Part III of this Note.¹¹¹

B.Manrique v. Kolc

In 2023, the Ninth Circuit reviewed a petition filed by former president of Peru, Alejandro Toledo Manrique,¹¹² to stay Toledo’s extradition from the U.S. to Peru while appealing the denial of his petition for writ of habeas by the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California.¹¹³ Peruvian prosecutors sought to extradite Toledo to Peru from the United States after they alleged that Toledo had committed money laundering and collusion, specifically “taking $20 million in bribes from Odebrecht, a giant Brazilian construction company that has admitted to U.S. authorities that it bribed officials to win contracts throughout Latin America for decades.”¹¹⁴ The Peruvian investigators had investigated or put on trial almost every living former president of Peru while conducting sweeping investigations of those who might have participated in the bribery with the Odebrecht company.¹¹⁵

Peru brought the accusations against Toledo in “two Prosecutor’s Decisions, documents that summarize the ongoing investigation, and in an Acusación Fiscal, a document produced at the end of an investigation that lays out the crimes allegedly committed and supporting evidence.”¹¹⁶ After the Supreme Court of Justice of Peru approved an extradition request for Toledo, the Peruvian government filed an extradition request with the United States in 2018 and sent a supplemental request in August 2020.¹¹⁷

In July 2019, a United States federal prosecutor filed a criminal complaint against Toledo, and two years later, a United States magistrate judge in the U.S District Court for the Northern District of California certified Toledo’s extradition.¹¹⁸ Separately, Toledo filed suit in the D.C. District Court to enjoin the U.S. Department of State from extraditing him to Peru, claiming that his extradition was politically motivated and that the decision to extradite him violated due process because the Secretary of State “did not ‘disclose the unclassified bases for its decisions’ or ‘afford Dr. Toledo and his counsel an opportunity to rebut those bases in a full and fair exchange of views.’ ”¹¹⁹ The District Court rejected Toledo’s arguments and wrote that the Secretary of State’s decision to extradite Toledo was based on considerations of international law on political extradition and that Toledo had been afforded adequate due process in the proceedings prior to the Secretary of State’s decision to extradite Toledo.¹²⁰ Following multiple appeals, the Ninth Circuit heard Toledo’s appeal of the denial of his writ of habeas corpus in April 2023.¹²¹

Toledo asserted that “he was not ‘charged with’ an extraditable offense because the extradition treaty requires a formal charge” and that “the ‘charging document’ Peru submitted was insufficient.”¹²² In reviewing Toledo’s appeal, the Ninth Circuit took a holistic approach to Toledo’s assertions regarding the charging document requirement within the United States-Peru Extradition Treaty. First, the Ninth Circuit analyzed the purpose of the United States-Peru Extradition Treaty, noting that “Article I of the United States-Peru Extradition Treaty provides for extradition of ‘persons whom the authorities in the Requesting State have charged with, found guilty of, or sentenced for, the commission of an extraditable offense.’ ”¹²³ Next, the Ninth Circuit provided background on Peruvian criminal procedure:

[A] Peruvian criminal proceeding has three phases: (1) preliminary or investigative, (2) intermediate or examining, and (3) trial. First, during the investigative phase, a prosecutor examines the facts and presents allegations to a judge of the Preliminary Investigation Court. When the investigation ends, the prosecutor must decide whether to dismiss the case or to issue an Acusación Fiscal and then seek a formal charge. Once a formal charge is sought, the prosecutor cannot further investigate. Second, during the examining phase, a judge of the Preliminary Investigation Court holds a preliminary hearing, during which the accused may object and present exculpatory evidence. At the end of this hearing, if the judge believes a formal charge is warranted, the judge issues an Orden de Enjuiciamiento. Finally, if an Orden de Enjuiciamiento issues, the parties proceed to a trial presided over by the Criminal Judge or the President of the Collegiate Court.¹²⁴

As Peru had issued an Acusación Fiscal in the corruption case against Toledo, the parties fought over “whether the accusations contained in the Acusación Fiscal suffice to ‘charge’ Toledo ‘with’ an extraditable offense under the Treaty.”¹²⁵ Toledo argued “that the United States-Peru treaty . . . requires ‘a copy of the charging document’ in addition to an arrest warrant.”¹²⁶ In rebutting Toledo’s assertion that a charging document was necessary and was not satisfied by the Acusación Fiscal, the U.S. government supported its argument by noting that the provision “charged with” elsewhere in the treaty was sufficient for the extraditing country to argue that a relator could be extradited without providing any specific document or official charge—therefore, the Acusación Fiscal satisfied the charging document.¹²⁷

The Ninth Circuit looked at the text of the treaty to determine the significance of the “charging document” provision within the United States-Peru Extradition Treaty in its entirety. The court found that the addition of “the charging document” was not necessary to find that Peru satisfied the requirements of the extradition treaty, finding support in Emami v. United States District Court for the Northern District and In re Assarsson. In both Emami and Assarsson, there was no “formal charge” listed in the U.S.-Sweden and U.S.-Federal Republic of Germany treaties to find that a relator might be extraditable, and as such, the requirement that there be “formal charges” in the foreign jurisdiction before the foreign country filed an extradition request was not a necessary requirement to find that the relators were extraditable.¹²⁸ The court utilized these cases even though neither case dealt with a “charging document” requirement. In Toledo’s case, the court found that “the Treaty does not mention formal charges or the Orden de Enjuiciamiento anywhere. And the requirement of a ‘copy of the charging document’—which specifies no particular document—does not define the level of formality [they] should read into ‘charged with.’ ”¹²⁹ The court found that such a reading would allow the Acusación Fiscal to be permitted as a “charging document” given that language elsewhere in the U.S.-Peru treaty equated “charged with” to “sought for prosecution,” and that the documents indicating an individual was “sought for prosecution” could encompass documents submitted before the Orden de Enjuiciamiento in Peruvian criminal proceedings—that is, the Acusación Fiscal—therefore satisfying the treaty’s requirements.¹³⁰

The Ninth Circuit furthered its analysis, finding that if “the charging document” was ambiguous, then the treaty’s drafting history and judicial precedents would assist the court in determining how to interpret the provision. The court stated that “charged with” could be broadly interpreted to mean any warrant-backed accusation presented by the Peruvian or United States governments, essentially making “the charging document” requirement null.¹³¹ The court looked to the Technical Analysis of the United States-Peru Extradition Treaty, which stated:

[T]he negotiating delegations intended that “charged” persons include those who are sought for prosecution for an extraditable offense based on an outstanding warrant of arrest, regardless of whether such warrant was issued pursuant to an indictment, complaint, information, affidavit, or other lawful means for initiating an arrest for prosecution under the laws in Peru or the United States.¹³²

The court further noted that “[their] rules of interpretation militate against reading in a requirement of particular formal charges where the treaty makes no such specification.”¹³³ Critically, the Ninth Circuit applied the default rule of treaty interpretation to Toledo’s case. Utilizing support from Supreme Court precedents, the court found that it should defer to the government agencies who were charged with negotiating and enforcing the treaty, as “such a construction enlarges the rights of the signatories and respects the interpretations given by [the] Executive Branch and the Peruvian government.”¹³⁴ The court found that because the treaty does not require that the requesting country provide formal charges to satisfy the extradition treaty’s requirements when submitting an extradition request, the Acusación Fiscal was sufficient to satisfy “the charging document” mandate. Moreover, in analyzing Peruvian criminal procedure, the court found that the Acusación Fiscal was a “charging document” as it provided a plethora of evidence, serving “the important purpose in the Peruvian system of signaling the end of discovery and moving the case from the prosecutor’s office to a judge of the Preliminary Investigation Court.”¹³⁵

In summary, the Ninth Circuit found that “the charging document” was an ambiguous term; properly interpreting it required extrinsic evidence and consideration of the two sovereign countries’ rights. Accordingly, the court relied on the draft treaty provisions and the Peruvian government’s standards around criminal procedure to analogize the Acusación Fiscal to a document that would satisfy “the charging document” requirement of the United States-Peru Extradition Treaty. It did so under the standard default rule. Because the Treaty was meant to expand the rights of the parties involved (in this case, the United States and Peru) to encourage extradition and the Treaty did not specify what document was required to extradite Toledo under the “charging document” requirement, Acusación Fiscal could be construed to be the charging document. However, as mentioned earlier in this Note, the Ninth Circuit had historically found that this approach might be prone to error.¹³⁶

Notably, as previously discussed, the Ninth Circuit utilized two cases regarding two treaties which did not include “the charging document” requirement to find that the Secretary of State had satisfied the requirements to extradite Toledo. By doing so, the court diminished the requirement that Peru provide a “charging document” when it found that the treaty had allowed for the extradition of individuals who were simply “charged with” extraditable offenses. Ultimately, this approach to “the charging document” requirement in the United States-Peru Extradition Treaty hints at the judiciary’s use of the default rule to ensure that the rights of sovereign nations are not infringed upon when they file an extradition request with the United States. After the Ninth Circuit’s decision, Toledo surrendered to be extradited to Peru in April 2023.¹³⁷

C.Vitkus v. Blinken

In 2023, the Fourth Circuit heard an appeal of a denial of preliminary injunction brought by Darius Vitkus, a citizen of the Republic of Lithuania.¹³⁸ Vitkus sought to prevent Lithuania from extraditing him for crimes he allegedly committed in 2008 and 2009 by filing for preliminary injunctive relief and a petition for writ of habeas corpus.¹³⁹ Vitkus owned a real estate business in Lithuania, and after it fell into bankruptcy proceedings, the Lithuanian authorities investigated him for various financial crimes between 2008 and 2010.¹⁴⁰ Notably, following the Lithuanian authority’s summons for questioning, Vitkus testified “that the Lithuanian police officers tied him to a chair, beat him, deprived him of water . . . , burned him with cigarettes” and asked about his political activities.¹⁴¹

Vitkus received three “Notification of Suspicion” documents during Lithuania’s criminal investigations, which all separately informed Vitkus that (1) he was a suspect in the Lithuanian authorities’ investigation of him, (2) he allegedly violated specific “Lithuanian code provisions,” and (3) he had engaged in “suspected criminal conduct.”¹⁴² After Vitkus left Lithuania, the Lithuanian authorities issued two orders of arrest for Vitkus.¹⁴³ The Lithuanian prosecutors created a document called a “Decision to Recognize D. Vitkus as a Suspect,” which “described Vitkus’s suspected criminal conduct and identified the implicated provisions of the Lithuanian criminal code”—this was allegedly decided based on the evidence the Lithuanian prosecutor gathered.¹⁴⁴ After moving to the United States, Vitkus applied for asylum and protection under the Convention Against Torture given his treatment by the Lithuanian government, which the Board of Immigration Appeals certified.¹⁴⁵

In May 2015, the Lithuanian government requested that the United States extradite Vitkus to Lithuania, advising the Department of State that Vitkus was a suspect in a criminal investigation and “wanted for prosecution in Lithuania in connection” with the various criminal investigations.¹⁴⁶ Lithuanian prosecutors provided supporting documents for their allegations against Vitkus that “summarized evidence gathered during the three investigations, along with copies of three orders for Vitkus’s arrest issued in connection with those investigations.”¹⁴⁷ Lithuania provided three Notifications of Suspicion and two Suspect Decisions to the United States, which later became the subjects of debate in the Secretary of State’s argument for extraditing Vitkus.¹⁴⁸

In response to Lithuania’s request, “the Secretary of State filed an extradition complaint in the Southern District of Florida, where Vitkus was then residing,” and extradition proceedings commenced in the Southern District of Florida.¹⁴⁹ During the proceeding, Vitkus argued that the Notifications of Suspicion and Suspect Decision did not “satisfy the charging document mandate” of the United States-Lithuania Extradition Treaty.¹⁵⁰ Vitkus also utilized the evidence provided by a Lithuanian attorney “who testified that, under Lithuanian law, only one document—an ‘indictment’—can be a ‘charging document’ for purposes of the charging document mandate.”¹⁵¹ The extradition court found that “deference was warranted to the Treaty interpretation of the Secretary of State and supported by Lithuania” and “ruled that the Notifications of Suspicion and Suspect Decisions ‘are sufficient to meet the requirements of’ the charging document mandate.”¹⁵² The court analyzed the extradition treaty between Lithuania and the United States, and utilized the executive branch’s argument to deny Vitkus’s argument that Lithuania did not comply with “the charging document” requirement of the extradition treaty:

The Secretary argued that the only purpose of the charging document mandate is to identify the charges for which Lithuania seeks to extradite Vitkus, and that the mandate does not require the initiation of any criminal charges. According to the Secretary, the charging document mandate is satisfied by the Notifications of Suspicion and Suspect Decisions. The Secretary supported that position with an affidavit of an attorney at the Department of State . . . and with a letter from a Lithuanian official called the Prosecutor General . . . . The State Department Affidavit averred that the Notifications of Suspicion and the Suspect Decisions are sufficient to satisfy the charging document mandate. And the Prosecutor General Letter maintained that the Notifications of Suspicion and Suspect Decisions ‘would be the equivalent of the charging documents referred to in’ the charging document mandate. The Letter also asserted that the proof required to identify a person as a suspect—and thus issue a Notification of Suspicion or Suspect Decision—‘should not be of the same level as necessary to substantiate the judgment of conviction or bringing charges (this occurs at a later stage of the criminal proceedings).’ ”¹⁵³

In a separate procedure following his transfer to Virginia, Vitkus filed a petition for a writ of habeas corpus and sought declaratory and injunctive relief in the Eastern District of Virginia. The court rejected Vitkus’s charging document argument, as it stated “that it gave ‘great weight’ to the Treaty interpretation presented by the Secretary of State,” and found that, along with the affidavits provided by the State Department and Prosecutor, the charging document mandate “can be satisfied by a document identifying ‘the violations of Lithuanian law that form the basis of Mr. Vitkus’s extradition, and . . . describ[ing] the facts underlying those alleged violations.’ ”¹⁵⁴

The Eastern District of Virginia summarized the Secretary of State’s argument in support of Vitkus’s extradition:

Lithuania has complied with the charging document mandate. Similar to Vitkus, the Secretary maintains that the language of the charging document mandate is plain and unambiguous. The Secretary maintains, however, that the charging document mandate does not require production of any particular type of charging document, and that it does not demand production of an indictment or something similar. According to the Secretary, the charging document mandate only requires the Requesting State to produce documents that sufficiently detail the alleged criminal violations and conduct, such as the Notifications of Suspicion and Suspect Decisions. The Secretary argues that the federal courts have consistently interpreted other treaties made by the United States to allow for extradition of persons who have not actually been criminally charged. Finally, the Secretary insists that, if the relevant text of the Treaty is ambiguous, his proposed construction thereof—that the charging document mandate requires only a document detailing suspected criminal conduct—adheres to the Treaty’s requirements and is entitled to deference.¹⁵⁵

The Fourth Circuit overturned the Eastern District of Virginia’s judgment. The majority of the Fourth Circuit found that “the Secretary’s construction of the charging document mandate does not ‘follow from the clear Treaty language’ ” and, therefore, the district court erred in utilizing it in its decision to reject Vitkus’s petition for a preliminary injunction.¹⁵⁶ The Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit first looked to the text of the treaty, finding that “if the [treaty’s] textual meaning is plain and cannot reasonably bear the government’s construction, then [the court] must reject that construction.”¹⁵⁷ The court looked to Article 8 § 3 of the Treaty, which requires that the Requesting State produce “a copy of the charging document.”¹⁵⁸ The Fourth Circuit noted that the “Secretary of State is not entitled to extradite Vitkus unless Lithuania first produces . . . a copy of ‘the charging document.’ ”¹⁵⁹ Looking at the grammatical structure of the phrase “the charging document,” the court found that the treaty required a “discrete document that initiates criminal charges” and that “the charging document mandate is plain and unambiguous, and it cannot be fulfilled by some document (or set of documents) that fails to perform the charging function—even if it or they contain similar information to ‘the charging document.’ ”¹⁶⁰

Moreover, the court utilized extrinsic evidence and looked to the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure to analyze the “charging document” requirement in the treaty between the United States and Lithuania and analogize documents that the Lithuanian prosecutors produced in their investigation of Vitkus to relevant documents in U.S. criminal procedure.¹⁶¹ The Fourth Circuit found that the charging document mandate required that a requesting country produce a document “that performs the same function as an indictment, information, or complaint” in the United States.¹⁶² The court found that the documents that the Lithuanian government produced were akin to the “subject letters” and “target letters” which are used by federal prosecutors in the United States to inform individuals that they “are either a ‘subject’ or a ‘target’ of a federal criminal investigation.”¹⁶³ The Fourth Circuit summarized their findings on the matter by stating:

Critically, those identified as federal “subjects” and “targets” of criminal investigations have not been charged—unless and until they become defendants by virtue of an indictment, an information, or a complaint. The Notifications of Suspicion and Suspect Decisions relied on by the Secretary of State did not initiate criminal charges against Vitkus. They simply characterize him as a suspect, and thus do not satisfy the plain and unambiguous language of the Treaty’s charging document mandate.¹⁶⁴

The court also relied on the evidence provided by the Lithuanian attorney supporting this argument, noting that the documents provided by the Lithuanian government “remain in a pretrial investigation stage” and that there is a difference “between the sufficiency of evidence needed to confer the status of ‘suspect’ and that needed to ‘bring[] charges,’ which ‘occurs at a later stage of the criminal proceedings.’ ”¹⁶⁵ The Fourth Circuit acknowledged the Secretary of State’s argument that the United States had extradited individuals who had not been formally charged in the requesting country prior to the extradition request.¹⁶⁶ The Fourth Circuit compared the United States-Lithuania treaty to other treaties which show either the absence of “the charging document” requirement—in a form of expressio unius interpretation—or contain the requirement that requesting countries produce “a copy of the charging document, if any” to indicate the importance of a specific charging document in extradition proceedings between Lithuania and the United States.¹⁶⁷ Additionally, the Fourth Circuit found that the inclusion of the charging document requirement was intentional, and that “the Treaty language agreed to by the parties must be adhered to and carry the day.”¹⁶⁸ The Fourth Circuit stated that Lithuania could not proceed with the extradition without producing the charging document, as Lithuania “cannot produce ‘the charging document’ when no criminal charges have been filed.”¹⁶⁹

The Fourth Circuit explicitly rejected the Ninth Circuit’s statement that “the charging document mandate ‘makes no difference’ ” given its arguments regarding the grammatical structure of the phrase, the evidence provided by both parties, and the text of the treaty.¹⁷⁰ The Fourth Circuit also denied the Secretary of State’s interpretation of the treaty, arguing that as the charging document mandate was clear and unambiguous, the court “do[es] not owe deference to the Secretary.”¹⁷¹ In doing so, it found that the Notifications of Suspicion and Suspect Decisions produced by the Lithuanian prosecutors did not initiate criminal charges against Vitkus and were insufficient to satisfy the extradition treaty’s requirements.

Judge Quattlebaum, writing the dissenting opinion in Vitkus v. Blinken, highlighted the majority’s unwillingness to utilize the default rule. Judge Quattlebaum noted that “the district court’s decision to side with the Secretary’s interpretation over Vitkus’ faithfully applies Supreme Court precedent requiring deference to the Secretary.”¹⁷² Judge Quattlebaum found that “the Secretary produced evidence supporting a broader interpretation of [the charging document] in the context of an international extradition treaty,” by providing context regarding the nature of the Lithuanian prosecutor’s documents in support of its extradition of Vitkus to Lithuania.¹⁷³ Judge Quattlebaum also appeared to be persuaded by an affidavit written by a State Department attorney, who noted that the treaty between Lithuania and United States includes provisions for extraditing individuals who are “sought for prosecution,” and “that a formal indictment cannot be sought under Lithuanian law until the prosecution receives Vitkus’ position on the notification of suspicion documents.”¹⁷⁴

Judge Quattlebaum found both the Secretary’s interpretation of the treaty and Vitkus’s interpretation of the treaty plausible.¹⁷⁵ He found that within the extradition treaty between the United States and Lithuania,

Article 8, the section setting forth the required documentation that must accompany an extradition request, refers to individuals ‘sought for prosecution.’ [W]hile . . . ‘charged with’ may suggest a formal charge, ‘sought for prosecution’ is broader. It could also be plausibly read . . . to include persons wanted for prosecution by Lithuania, such as Vitkus, who are wanted to stand trial for specific crimes, but for whom a formal charging document akin to the ones used in the United States may not have been issued.¹⁷⁶

In stating that the Secretary’s argument was plausible, Judge Quattlebaum utilized the default rule to argue that the judiciary should defer to the executive branch’s interpretation of a treaty when two possible interpretations are apparent.¹⁷⁷ Judge Quattlebaum found that the Ninth Circuit’s opinion in Manrique v. Kolc was persuasive, given that the Ninth Circuit similarly analyzed “the charging mandate” within the extradition treaty between the United States and Peru, and that Vitkus presented the same argument that Toledo presented to the Ninth Circuit.¹⁷⁸ Judge Quattlebaum noted that the court denied Toledo’s argument, as the treaty between Peru and the United States did not have explicit language mentioning “formal charges or the Orden de Enjuiciamiento,” and that the court “noted that documents submitted by Peru sufficiently identified the crimes that the petitioner was accused of and summarized the supporting evidence.”¹⁷⁹ Judge Quattlebaum also found the court’s deference to the executive branch indicative of how the treaty between Lithuania and the United States should be interpreted.¹⁸⁰ Finally, in concluding, Judge Quattlebaum stated, “the Secretary’s view that documents submitted by Lithuania satisfy the treaty’s charging document requirement is, at the very least plausible. When that is the case, we must defer to the Executive Branch’s interpretation of treaties that it has been charged with negotiating and enforcing.”¹⁸¹

Given the discrepancy between the foreign criminal court procedures in Peru and Lithuania, it is unclear whether the Fourth Circuit would have found that Peru satisfied the requirements of its extradition request. However, the Fourth Circuit’s opinion sheds light on the relationship between the executive and judiciary branches in extradition proceedings: it is apparent that the Secretary of State’s influence on extradition is substantial, especially when the judiciary analyzes treaty agreements. When the court in Vitkus v. Blinken acknowledged the default rule, it noted the competing interests at stake in Lithuania’s extradition request, namely the executive’s interest in maintaining foreign relations and the public’s interest “in seeing its governmental institutions follow the law.”¹⁸² Nevertheless, by determining that the “charging document” lacked the requisite ambiguity to apply the default rule, and accordingly, finding the executive’s interest did not outweigh the public’s interest in seeing the government follow the law, the Fourth Circuit upheld Vitkus’s fundamental due process rights by following the procedures outlined in the treaty as written and ensuring that the extradition proceeding was fair. The Fourth Circuit’s decision and its implications will be explored further in Part III.

III. INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS AND DUE PROCESS

A.Due Process and Treaty Interpretation

Although not directly stated in the circuit courts’ opinions, the analyses of the Lithuania-United States and Peru-United States extradition treaties shed light on the due process rights afforded to relators in the United States. The constitutional rights of relators, vested in them by their presence in the United States, are at odds with the executive branch’s responsibility to uphold relations between the United States and foreign nations.¹⁸³ The Fourth Circuit’s interpretation of “the charging document” upheld Vitkus’s due process rights—the Fourth Circuit deferred to the plain language of the treaty, and finding the executive branch’s argument unpersuasive, ensured that the executive’s influence did not overshadow the judiciary’s role in the extradition process.

Legal scholars have analyzed the intersection of due process and the extradition process, focusing on the rule of non-inquiry, the possibility of double jeopardy, the rule of specialty, and hearsay exceptions. Additionally, due process concerns intersect with the appropriateness of a court’s use of the default rule to interpret provisions of extradition treaties because broadening of the rights of the nations who sign extradition treaties affects the liberty of a person sought for extradition.¹⁸⁴

International due process encompasses “the assurance that ‘the judiciary [is not] dominated by the political branches of government,’ ”¹⁸⁵ and implicitly in accordance with this principle, the Fourth Circuit limited the executive’s political objective by enforcing its statutorily granted power to deny extradition. Powerless to change the structure of the United States-Lithuania treaty, the Fourth Circuit, in its decision in Vitkus v. Blinken, highlights not only the importance of specificity in extradition treaties but also the risk of harming an individual’s fundamental right to due process by giving undue deference to the executive branch’s interpretation of extradition treaties.

The default rule of treaty interpretation, as addressed in Part I of this Note, has been criticized by scholars for being outdated: it was formed before human rights concerns of relators were properly addressed by courts in considering whether to certify the relators’ extradition to the requesting country.¹⁸⁶ The judiciary implemented the default rule at a time when human beings were not subjects of international law—when the Supreme Court issued its Laubenheimer decision in 1933, sovereign countries, not individuals, were considered the beneficiaries of rights that flowed from treaties.¹⁸⁷ The default rule upheld the sovereign signatories’ right to extradite individuals wanted for prosecution, and continues to be upheld in some form by the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties.¹⁸⁸ The default rule continues to exert influence over the extradition interpretation process even as the human rights of relators have become a prominent and important consideration in the extradition process.¹⁸⁹

The Ninth Circuit’s understanding of Peruvian criminal procedure and the deference it afforded the United States executive branch bring to light the potential risks of applying the default rule. The court in Manrique v. Kolc considered the evidence provided by both the Peruvian prosecutors and the State Department to understand “the charging document” requirement in the Peru-United States Extradition Treaty, and in doing so, the court contextualized the requirements of the treaty.¹⁹⁰ This analysis favored the Secretary of State’s interpretation—as noted previously, extradition proceedings are distinct from criminal trials, and the judiciary may be comfortable with some bias in a proceeding that does not determine the guilt or innocence of the accused.¹⁹¹ However, the court’s deference to the Secretary of State’s interpretation of the “charging document” could be read as the court’s inclination to uphold foreign relations with Peru at the potential expense of Toledo’s liberty rights. As the court acknowledged, the risk of misinterpreting the requirements of the treaty was great: Toledo would be sent to Peru to face trial and be imprisoned, and his ability to file a habeas petition would be nullified by his presence in the Peruvian criminal justice system.¹⁹²

Vitkus v. Blinken implicitly renounces the traditional application of the default rule: the Fourth Circuit alludes to the pressure the executive branch places on the judiciary to comply with the Secretary of States’s understanding of a provision of a treaty—especially when the judiciary finds that the provision in question is clear and unambiguous.¹⁹³ In finding that “the charging document” mandate was clear and unambiguous in its requirement that a discrete document was to be produced by the Lithuanian government, the Fourth Circuit protected Vitkus from a questionable extradition request when it found that the treaty required that the requesting country produce a specific document charging him with a crime. By doing so, the Fourth Circuit found clarity in the procedural requirements established in the extradition treaty and potentially upheld Vitkus’s Fifth Amendment due process rights. However, it is important to note that should the majority of the Fourth Circuit have found that “the charging document” requirement was an ambiguous provision in the treaty, then there would have been a possibility that the court would have applied the default rule.

The Fourth Circuit also implicitly respected principles of international law on due process by ensuring that the political branch did not dominate the proceeding by compelling the court to recognize its interpretation of “the charging document” requirement.¹⁹⁴ International due process requires that trials are “fair” and are not “dominated” by the political branch.¹⁹⁵ However, as discussed previously, extradition proceedings are not trials, and a challenge against an extradition proceeding for being “unfair” was notably discounted by a Nevada District Court in 2023 in Sridej v. Blinken, in which the court referenced two cases from the 19th and early 20th centuries to note that the extradition procedure did not require the formalities of other judicial proceedings.¹⁹⁶ This case also underscores contemporary federal judiciary’s deference to understandings of international law codified before the duties of upholding international due process became binding on the American judiciary. Accordingly, although Vitkus might have been able to raise that the executive branch’s interpretation of “the charging document” would not be “fair,” it would be unlikely to be held as a viable argument against the certification of his extradition by the judiciary.

The interpretive dissonance surrounding “the charging document” requirement could be remedied by diminishing deference to the executive branch in treaty interpretation: the judiciary is tasked with interpretation in the extradition process specifically because its legal acumen regarding interpretation is more developed than the executive branch’s legal acumen. By not affording as much deference to the Secretary of State’s interpretation of “the charging document” as the Ninth Circuit had afforded, the Fourth Circuit’s approach to interpreting the U.S.-Lithuania treaty was more consistent with its obligations under international law: it sought to provide a fair hearing to Vitkus and did not near the point of acting “at the whim” of the executive branch.

Another consideration for remedying this tension between the judiciary and executive branch, with some limitations, would be to include more specific language in bilateral extradition treaties regarding a sovereign nation’s criminal procedure. Although, as stated in Part I of this Note, the judiciary has no authority to alter bilateral extradition treaties that the United States executes with foreign governments, Vitkus v. Blinken exemplifies the kind of case that could incentivize the executive branch to negotiate extradition treaties that have specific language relevant to the parties’ criminal procedures. By doing so, the U.S. and a sovereign signatory to a bilateral extradition treaty could prevent interpretive friction in the United States judiciary and allow for more expeditious extradition processing. Specifying the documents that better ascertain the level of probable cause established in a foreign proceeding could not only protect relators from extradition that invades their constitutional and international human rights but also the judiciary from breaching rules of non-inquiry and incorrectly interpreting a foreign country’s criminal procedure.¹⁹⁷ However, this would not be a salve to the protection of international human rights of relators: a country without an independent judiciary could likely still satisfy the document requirement even if it were specified, and the risk of violating a relators’ due process rights might still be an issue, albeit in a different form than the one at issue in this Note.

B.Relevant Background

The two circuit opinions may also differ for reasons not explicitly stated by the published decisions. Although Toledo raised the possibility of maltreatment and suffering while awaiting trial in a Peruvian prison, his argument failed to trigger a humanitarian concern by the court.¹⁹⁸ Notably, courts in the United States may disavow the rule of non-inquiry should the relator raise the possibility of meeting human rights abuses by the requesting state in the event the extradition court certifies extradition—Toledo’s argument regarding his ill health does not align with the circumstances the court considers in extradition.¹⁹⁹ On the other hand, Vitkus’s testimony about his arrest in Lithuania does support a contention that he could be tortured should the U.S. certify Lithuania’s extradition request, given that while applying for asylum, the “Board of Immigration Appeals (the ‘BIA’) found in 2014 that Vitkus’s ‘credible testimony established that he was beaten, burned, and nearly asphyxiated by [Lithuanian] police officers, who inquired into his contributions to a political party.”²⁰⁰ The findings of the Board of Immigration Appeals did not preclude the extradition court from certifying Vitkus for extradition.²⁰¹ Vitkus’s torture in Lithuania—allegedly related to his political involvement in Lithuania with a political group called “the Russia party”²⁰²—may have implicitly prompted the court to consider that the Lithuanian criminal proceedings would violate Vitkus’s human rights upon returning to Lithuania. This concern might have informed the Fourth Circuit’s view that “the charging document” requirement was a clear and unambiguous requirement that Lithuania provide a discrete charging document.

C.Foreign relations and the interpretation of “the Charging Document” requirement

The United States uses extradition treaties to prevent U.S. citizens and non-U.S. citizens alike from utilizing the United States as a safe haven when they have committed crimes on foreign soil, and are tools used by the United States to uphold its relationships with foreign countries.²⁰³ The default rule of treaty interpretation supports the executive branch’s role of upholding its treaty obligations as the governmental body responsible for foreign relations. Extradition treaties are entered into by the executive branch in its process of conducting foreign relations, creating international agreements regarding extradition unifies countries in a common, collaborative law enforcement apparatus.²⁰⁴ There are many reasons for entering into a collaborative law enforcement apparatus, including “ensuring that fugitive criminals do not go unpunished for their alleged crimes, discouraging crime throughout the world, and protecting nations from fugitive criminals by eliminating the possibility of safe havens for fugitive criminals.”²⁰⁵ Allowing countries to extradite individuals strengthens the relationship between the two countries, while not cooperating with an extradition request, especially when issues regarding erroneous treaty interpretation arise, hampers international relations between the countries.²⁰⁶ When considering the factors for staying a pending appeal (“(1) whether the stay applicant has made a strong showing that he is likely to succeed on the merits; (2) whether the applicant will be irreparably injured absent a stay; (3) whether issuance of the stay will substantially injure the other parties interested in the proceeding; “and (4) where the public interest lies”),²⁰⁷ courts have noted that noncompliance with extradition requests diminishes the “force” of extradition treaties, and that “[i]f other countries lose confidence that the United States will abide by its treaties, the United States risks losing the ability to obtain the extraditions of people who commit crimes here and flee to other countries.”²⁰⁸ This may be the reason why the Secretary of State, who ultimately decides whether to proceed with an extradition request once the court certifies a relator for extradition, does not often refuse to surrender those sought by a foreign country for prosecution.²⁰⁹

In denying Lithuania’s extradition request, the Fourth Circuit may have chipped at the United States’ relationship with the Lithuanian government by rejecting the default rule.²¹⁰ Although the U.S. government does not rescind the entire extradition treaty when the requestor country fails to extradite an individual, failing to extradite prohibits the flow of criminals between countries, and can encourage the impression that the U.S. can be held as a safe haven for criminals.²¹¹ Moreover, international comity would be ill-served by the uncertainty a requesting country may face when summoning an individual from the United States, should the relevant treaty have a “charging document” requirement.

CONCLUSION

As the two circuit court opinions in 2023 demonstrate, the default rule of treaty interpretation continues to influence the judiciary’s role in determining whether to certify a foreign nation’s extradition request. In the Ninth Circuit opinion in Manrique v. Kolc, the court was partial to the Secretary of State’s interpretation of “the charging document” requirement in its extradition of Toledo—the court found the “charging document” requirement to be relatively inconsequential in finding that the Peruvian government had satisfied its extradition request by providing an Acusación Fiscal. However, in Vitkus v. Blinken, the court was more dubious of the Secretary of State’s interpretation of the treaty and disagreed that the documents that the Lithuanian government had provided to extradite Vitkus satisfied the requirements listed in the U.S.-Lithuania Extradition Treaty.

By continuing to find opportunities to utilize the default rule in interpreting extradition treaties, the judiciary is more likely to impinge on the constitutional due process rights of relators in an effort to appease the executive’s concern with maintaining foreign relations with sovereign countries.²¹² The divergence in interpretation of “the charging document” highlights the possibility of two diametrically opposite outcomes for those who face extradition, with important implications: the removal of an individual from the United States to a requesting country, and therefore, the removal of the constitutional rights afforded to them when they are physically in the United States. Vitkus v. Blinken, in acknowledging the default rule, noted that although there is a legitimate public interest in extraditing criminals to the countries that request them, the executive’s obligations to follow the law should not be outweighed by its duty to maintain foreign relations; doing so honors the procedural safeguards written into a treaty.

The judiciary’s continued use of the default rule is in tension with the development of international human rights. Manrique v. Kolc embodies the risk to internationally recognized due process rights when courts cite to the default rule of treaty interpretation: the court in Manrique appeared to interpret “the charging document” to conciliate the executive branch. Toledo is not the only relator who has argued that the extradition process did not comport with due process: relators have raised arguments about various components of the extradition process that violate fundamental due process rights. As precedents almost require that the judiciary does not consider these arguments, the judiciary should gradually reduce the weight of the default rule of treaty interpretation so that extradition proceedings align more closely with the fairness and juridical equality requirements of the fundamental human right to due process.

Because the United States is a party to at least twenty-eight bilateral extradition treaties that contain “the charging document” requirement, arguments as to its ambiguity will likely arise again. Accordingly, to better uphold the due process rights of relators, courts should defer to the executive branch and the plain text of the relevant extradition treaty proportionally to ensure that decisions are in line with customary international law on due process. By critically analyzing the default rule, the courts will be better equipped to uphold their obligations to the rights of relators: rights granted by the Constitution and by international law on the fundamental right to due process.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 761

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Jacob M. Karlin*

* Executive Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 98; J.D. Candidate 2025, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. 2017, Science in Society Program, Wesleyan University. All views and conclusions expressed in this Note are solely my own and do not express the opinions or positions of my employer. Many thanks to Professor Marcela Prieto for her invaluable guidance throughout the drafting process. I also want to thank the talented Southern California Law Review staff and editors for their work throughout the publication process.

A Whole-of-Government Approach to Protect Unaccompanied Children from Labor Exploitation

July 2025July 2025Charlie Murphy*

A sharp rise in illegal child labor and an influx of unaccompanied migrant children into the United States combined to dominate headlines in 2023. Despite federal authorities placing migrant children in sponsor care, reports detailed such children being exploited in hazardous occupations across the country, with some losing their lives. An aging patchwork of federal immigration and labor laws and underfunded enforcement agencies have left an incredibly vulnerable subset of children at risk of exploitation or worse, and congressional action is needed to ensure that sponsored children are properly cared for and kept out of hazardous workplaces. While the federal government’s processing of unaccompanied children and illegal child labor have been separately examined by scholars, there is a glaring lack of scholarship on how the gaps in the immigration system and federal labor law combine to put unaccompanied minors at a greater risk of labor exploitation. This Note argues that the federal government must comprehensively update existing immigration and labor laws and increase interagency coordination to lower the risk of labor exploitation for unaccompanied children. If the United States wants to fulfill a humanitarian mission of caring for unaccompanied children, it must take responsibility for every child’s wellbeing throughout their immigration journey by taking a whole-of-government approach to the problem.

Introduction

News reports broke midway through the Biden presidency detailing shocking and troubling findings of migrant children working in punishing and dangerous jobs across the United States in violation of federal law. One report detailed the experience of a migrant child named Antonio, a fourteen-year-old who had left his home in Guatemala and made the perilous trek north to the United States.¹ After arriving at the U.S. border alone, the U.S. government placed Antonio into its custody in a shelter for several weeks until a former neighbor residing in Florida agreed to sponsor him while Antonio made his way through the immigration system. Upon his release to the sponsor, Antonio enrolled in the eighth grade and went to work for anyone who would hire a child without a work permit. Work took priority, and Antonio soon stopped attending school in order to survive. While sponsors of undocumented children are supposed to provide for the children in their care, Antonio’s sponsor instead kept track of the costs required to transport, house, and feed Antonio and required him to pay that money back, which took a year of work. Antonio cleaned houses, landscaped, and packed vegetables overnight. He worked for companies that claimed not to hire minors. He did not stay in his sponsor’s care long, instead living in apartments with several other people. Rather than attend school like other children, Antonio was forced to support himself. He now lives in a neighborhood in which children as young as twelve years old work in hazardous occupations such as construction in order to survive.²

Antonio’s story is a common one. Children who arrive at the U.S. border alone often find themselves forced to work rather than attend school in order to survive or pay off debts that sponsors or other parties impose on them, creating a real risk of child labor exploitation or even labor trafficking. “Labor exploitation” is an oft-used term without an exact definition, but as used in this Note, it generally describes employers committing workplace violations for profit, usually by scheduling employees for excessively long hours, underpaying them in violation of law, or disregarding safety rules and regulations meant to protect workers.³ “Labor trafficking” is a crime in which traffickers force people to work while taking the fruits of workers’ labor for themselves.⁴ Labor trafficking turns on an element of force, fraud, or coercion, by which labor exploitation is elevated from harmful, but possibly blameless, conduct to criminal and morally reprehensible behavior.⁵ Unaccompanied children are meant to be protected from such abuses in the United States by federal immigration and labor law.⁶

When children arrive at the U.S. border without permission to enter the country, they are apprehended and detained, usually by United States Customs and Border Protection (“CBP”).⁷ Children with no parent or legal guardian present are separated from whoever they are with and held in temporary facilities made for adults. They are then questioned by federal agents and, if found to be unaccompanied, are transferred to the custody of the Department of Health and Human Services’ (“HHS”) Office of Refugee Resettlement (“ORR”). In ORR custody, children are put into some form of group facility with other children, generally for about thirty days. ORR houses and feeds these children, and case managers eventually speak with each child to determine a suitable sponsor for the child to be placed with. While finding sponsors, the U.S. government enters each child into formal removal proceedings, unless a child asks to be repatriated.

ORR screens each potential sponsor, but screening requirements often change with presidential administrations or with a rise in the backlog of children in federal custody. Changes in sponsor screening can affect the length of time that children are in ORR custody, which is particularly problematic given that longer stays in government custody can cause lasting trauma to children. With a backlog of children in federal custody upon taking office in 2021, the Biden administration pushed to release children as quickly as possible to sponsor homes and lowered the hurdles that sponsors must clear when applying to ORR’s Unaccompanied Alien Children Bureau (“UAC Bureau”), the federal program that places unaccompanied children in sponsor homes.⁸ In its haste, the administration may have unintentionally increased the risk of unaccompanied children landing in unsuitable environments in which labor exploitation or trafficking can occur.

In the best-case scenario, ORR places a child with a sponsor that the child knows, such as a parent or family member, who will properly care for them and enroll them in school while the child’s immigration proceedings play out. The worst-case scenario is that the child is placed with a sponsor whom they have never met, who will take advantage of the child financially or otherwise. In this worst-case scenario, sponsors might charge children for basic expenses like rent, food, clothing, and school supplies, essentially forcing the child to work after school (or in lieu of attending) to repay their debt.⁹ Worse, the sponsor may force the child to work and take the child’s entire earnings for themselves. Migrant children who must work often find themselves in workplaces considered dangerous by the federal government, even for adults.¹⁰ These children may not make enough money to pay their debts working normal shifts after school hours, so they may work overnight shifts or stop attending school altogether to work full-time. In such workplaces, child workers have been injured, maimed, and killed while working in violation of federal labor law.¹¹ Despite the risk, the harsh reality is that many unaccompanied children feel they have to work due to their vulnerable circumstances. What choice do they have otherwise?

The scenario described may seem horrific, or even unrealistic, but it has happened repeatedly in the United States. While such stories surface in the news annually, Congress finally put a renewed focus on the issue of child labor in 2023 after Hannah Dreier’s reporting in The New York Times detailed just how widespread the issue of migrant children working in dangerous American workplaces is.¹² Some migrant children have allegedly been trafficked into forced labor, and multiple federal agencies have been criticized for failing to adequately prevent or respond to the risk these children face, particularly ORR and the Department of Labor (“DOL”). Exposés like Dreier’s have cropped up amidst an unprecedented spike in unaccompanied children arriving at the U.S.-Mexico border, a spike that strained the government’s ability to adequately care for unaccompanied children. Particularly concerning to some members of Congress and the public was an allegation that ORR was unable to get in touch with over 80,000 unaccompanied children that the agency had released from its custody into sponsor homes.¹³ ORR’s inability to get in touch with tens of thousands of children coincided with a dramatic surge in documented cases of illegal child labor nationwide. Although congressional Republicans and Democrats held hearings with ORR and DOL officials to understand why children could not be contacted and why child labor violations were increasing,¹⁴ there was little in the way of a coordinated government response to deal with these crises as related issues that may increase the risk of unaccompanied children being exploited for their labor.

Encouragingly, in 2023, ORR and DOL agreed to share information in an effort to jointly combat child labor trafficking and exploitation.¹⁵ But between ORR’s limitations in providing post-release services to children paroled into sponsor care and DOL’s lack of resources and relatively toothless enforcement options, migrant children still have inadequate protections and can fall prey to labor trafficking or exploitation. While some scholarship exists on the inadequacies of the UAC Bureau,¹⁶ few if any scholars have focused on how gaps in immigration law and federal labor law combine to increase the risk of exploitation to unaccompanied children. This Note aims to fill the gap in current scholarship relating to unaccompanied children by undertaking a novel and holistic review of both federal immigration law and labor law. The aim is to identify gaps in both areas of law that contribute to the risk of unaccompanied children being exploited for their labor by either their sponsors or irresponsible employers and discuss how these areas can be addressed in a comprehensive manner to lower that risk of harm.

This Note attempts to make sense of the various statutes, regulations, and government agencies that are meant to protect migrant children in different ways and argues for a coordinated, whole-of-government approach to minimize the risk that unaccompanied children fall into labor exploitation. While this Note touches on labor trafficking, its main focus is labor exploitation, as there is no comprehensive source of reliable data on labor trafficking among unaccompanied minors. Part I of this Note begins by quantifying the historic levels of unaccompanied minors arriving at the U.S. border since 2019 and explores the shifting immigration policies and rationales that have contributed to the crisis. Part II explains the legal foundation governing the apprehension of unaccompanied minors and discusses ORR’s role in placing minors into custody. Part III examines child labor violations nationwide and delves into the legal framework that is supposed to protect children from being exploited in the workplace. Part IV analyzes the current failings of both federal immigration law and labor law to protect unaccompanied children and offers possible solutions that can minimize the risk of exploitation for these children. The Note concludes by laying the groundwork for future discussion.

By addressing the labor exploitation of unaccompanied children through a multipronged review of separate but overlapping areas of law, this Note endeavors to change the discourse surrounding the federal government’s approach from a conversation of unilateral federal agency failures to one that discusses how our patchwork system of laws can be updated to best serve the needs of unaccompanied children. The Biden administration correctly approached influxes of unaccompanied minors with a humanitarian focus, but federal law needs to be updated to ensure that the federal government takes full responsibility for ensuring the safety of each child it welcomes into the country.¹⁷

I.A Historic Influx of Unaccompanied Children

Before exploring what happens when unaccompanied children enter the United States, it is important to highlight who these children are, where they come from, why they flee their homes, and what happens when they encounter border authorities in the United States. To begin, a migrant child who arrives at the U.S. border unaccompanied by a parent or guardian is referred to by CBP as an “unaccompanied alien child,” or “UC,” for short.¹⁸ A UC is statutorily defined as a child under eighteen years old who has no lawful immigration status in the United States and who either has no parent or legal guardian accompanying them into the United States or has no parent or guardian who can provide immediate care and physical custody.¹⁹ From 2010 until 2019, CBP apprehended an average of 43,425 unaccompanied children per year at the U.S. border, with nearly all of those apprehensions occurring at the Southwest border.²⁰ The number of apprehensions trended upward over that ten-year span, hitting a then-record high of 76,136 during the first Trump presidency in 2019.²¹ Decreased migration and public health border enforcement during the COVID-19 pandemic led to a sharp downturn in apprehensions in 2020, but since 2021, there has been a massive spike in the number of unaccompanied children arriving at the U.S. border, with an average of 130,122 CBP apprehensions per year.²² This average nearly doubles the pre-pandemic record high for apprehensions of unaccompanied children in a single year.

The majority of unaccompanied children are consistently aged between fifteen and seventeen years old.²³ For years, most unaccompanied children arrived from Mexico, but that majority has shifted dramatically over the last ten years to the Northern Triangle countries of El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras.²⁴ Regardless of country of origin, similar explanations underlie why migrant children are traveling to the U.S. border en masse. Many migrant children seek economic opportunity, which has always been a factor driving immigration, but many others flee extreme violence, poverty, and ecological disaster.²⁵ Others are driven by a desire to reunite with family already in the United States, with an estimated 80% of unaccompanied children having at least one family member in the country as of 2021.²⁶ While some politicians and pundits may try to ascribe nefarious motives to the spike in migration, there are usually reasonable economic and socio-political explanations for why children arrive at the U.S. border.

Where an unaccompanied child is from makes a large difference in what happens when they encounter border officials. Under the Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act of 2008 (“TVPRA”),²⁷ children arriving from noncontiguous countries such as El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras are usually detained by CBP and transferred into the custody of ORR.²⁸ Once transferred, these children are put into formal removal proceedings and given an opportunity to seek different forms of immigration relief, such as asylum.²⁹ In contrast, children arriving from Mexico or Canada are usually repatriated immediately, so long as they are not trafficking victims and raise no fear of persecution upon return to their home countries.³⁰

Waves of unaccompanied minors arriving at the U.S. border have challenged the last four presidential administrations. Fearing that children were being trafficked into the United States, the George W. Bush administration passed the TVPRA in 2008, which barred the quick deportation of unaccompanied minors from countries other than Mexico.³¹ The Obama administration used the TVPRA to greatly expand the government’s ability to respond to unaccompanied arrivals, housing children in temporary camps on military bases and spending billions of dollars expanding a network of shelters that ORR could place unaccompanied children into while they awaited placement in the United States.³² The Trump administration responded to surges in arrivals in 2019 and 2020 by trying to limit both legal and illegal immigration, focusing on deterrence through family separation policies and the solicitation of Congress for funds to erect a border wall, all while allowing ORR’s shelters to fill near capacity.³³ When the COVID-19 pandemic struck in 2020, the Trump administration seized on a Center for Disease Control and Prevention (“CDC”) public health order called Title 42 to promptly deport most unaccompanied children detained by CBP to Mexico, in violation of the TVPRA.³⁴ The use of Title 42 cut encounters with unaccompanied children at the southern border by more than half,³⁵ but left kids to fend for themselves along the U.S.-Mexico border. In 2021, the Biden administration reversed course, formally exempting unaccompanied minors from Title 42 expulsions and requiring that they be processed under the TVPRA’s Title 8 procedures.³⁶ Unaccompanied minor apprehensions rebounded in 2021 to what was then a new record high of 140,191, before jumping again in 2022 to 149,086.³⁷

Whether any executive policy has been particularly effective in properly addressing surges in unaccompanied-minor arrivals is up for debate. The Trump administration’s hardline policies against immigration lessened the number of encounters with unaccompanied minors, but a survey of Central American children in transit revealed that 66% would try to flee their country again if detained and deported by the U.S. government,³⁸ showing that hardline tactics are not likely to stop unaccompanied children from arriving at the U.S. border. The Obama and Biden administrations took a two-pronged humanitarian approach by housing minors in shelters as a short-term solution with a goal of family reunification or sponsor placement, while attempting to address the root causes of immigration by working with foreign governments to dissuade foreign citizens from immigrating and providing legal pathways for children to apply for entry into the United States without arriving at the border unannounced.³⁹ While the Obama and Biden approaches were humanitarian in nature, such approaches were also unlikely to disincentivize children from traveling to the border.

This Note is not meant to tackle the root causes of child migration or question whether the U.S. border should be accessible or closed to migrant children. Whether increased child migration is driven by violence, poverty, ecological disaster, economic opportunity, or governmental policy, it almost certainly will persist. Rather, this Note recognizes that unaccompanied minors are uniquely vulnerable to labor exploitation and trafficking and that current U.S. law is ill equipped to protect children from such realities. The question is, how can current legal structures be changed or improved to handle arrivals of unaccompanied minors in a way that best meets the needs of such children?

II.The Legal Foundation Underpinning ORR’s Apprehension, Custody, and placement of Unaccompanied Children

The apprehension and administrative processing of unaccompanied children is governed by a court settlement known as the Flores Settlement Agreement of 1997 (“Flores Agreement”), the Homeland Security Act of 2002 (“HSA”), the TVPRA, and various regulations. Understanding the legal foundation underpinning the UAC Bureau is critical to evaluating the gaps in the system that expose unaccompanied minors to a greater risk of labor exploitation.

A.The Flores Settlement Agreement of 1997

The modern-day treatment of unaccompanied children detained by the government was largely shaped by the Flores Agreement. The Flores Agreement resulted from a class action lawsuit between the former Immigration and Naturalization Service (“INS”) and two organizations representing the legal interests of immigrant children held in INS detention. The lawsuit was brought on behalf of detained children who were held in “suboptimal conditions” and “subjected to daily strip searches by immigration officers.”⁴⁰ In 1984, the INS “adopted a policy prohibiting the release of detained minors to anyone other than ‘a parent or lawful guardian, except in unusual or extraordinary cases.’ ”⁴¹ These children were held in government detention despite many having other adult family members who were willing to care for them while their immigration proceedings played out.⁴²

In 1997, the plaintiff class and the government reached a settlement which set out a nationwide policy governing the detention, release, and treatment of minors in INS custody.⁴³ The settlement required the humane treatment of migrant children held in federal custody⁴⁴ and created a presumption in favor of release and family reunification for minors who were not at risk of missing appearances in immigration court or whose safety did not need to be ensured.⁴⁵ Under the agreement, minors were to be released from INS custody, in order of preference, to (1) a parent, (2) a legal guardian, (3) an adult relative, (4) an adult individual or entity designated by the parent or legal guardian, (5) a licensed program willing to accept legal custody, or (6) an adult individual or entity seeking custody.⁴⁶ Unreleased children were to be placed in a state-licensed and non-secure program that provided residential, group, or foster-care services for children.⁴⁷

While the district court that approved the Flores Agreement continues to monitor the federal government’s compliance with its terms,⁴⁸ developments in statutory law (particularly the passage of the HSA and TVPRA) and federal regulations have changed the structure of U.S. immigration and modified the Flores Agreement’s nationwide policy regarding the detention and release of minors held in government custody.

B.The Homeland Security Act of 2002

The HSA abolished the INS and created the Department of Homeland Security (“DHS”) to fulfill most of INS’s functions,⁴⁹ including immigrant detention and removal responsibilities.⁵⁰ Importantly, section 462 of the HSA transferred INS’s jurisdiction over unaccompanied children to ORR.⁵¹ Section 462(b)(1) made ORR responsible for “the care and placement of unaccompanied alien children,” requiring the agency to consider the interests of each child when making care and custody decisions and make placement determinations for every unaccompanied child in federal custody by reason of immigration status.⁵² The HSA defined “unaccompanied alien children” as children under eighteen years of age who have no lawful immigration status and no accompanying parent or guardian present in the United States⁵³ and defined the term “placement” as the “placement of an unaccompanied child in either a detention facility or an alternative to such a facility.”⁵⁴ ORR inherited both INS’s custodial responsibilities and its responsibilities arising under the Flores Agreement, specifically the mandate to place unaccompanied minors into the care of a suitable sponsor, per the list of placement preferences.

C.The William Wilberforce Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act of 2008

Congress enacted the TVPRA, in part, to address concerns that unaccompanied minors in government custody were being inadequately screened for evidence of human trafficking.⁵⁵ The TVPRA builds on the HSA and requires that the Secretary of Homeland Security develop policies and procedures to ensure that unaccompanied children are safely repatriated to their country of nationality or to the last country they lived in.⁵⁶ Section 235 of the TVPRA lays out “special rules” allowing children from contiguous countries (Mexico and Canada) to be safely repatriated to their country of origin or last habitual residence.⁵⁷ Under section 235(a), an immigration officer may remove an unaccompanied child appearing at a land border or U.S. port of entry from the country so long as the child is from a contiguous country, has not been nor is at risk of being a victim of a severe form of human trafficking, and does not have a credible fear of persecution in their home country, and so long as the child is allowed to make an independent decision to withdraw their application for admission to the United States.⁵⁸ Children must be screened for evidence of trafficking or persecution within forty-eight hours of apprehension.⁵⁹

Unaccompanied children from noncontiguous countries, like those comprising the Northern Triangle, must be transferred to ORR’s custody within seventy-two hours, consistent with the HSA.⁶⁰ The Secretary of HHS, in collaboration with the Secretary of Homeland Security, Attorney General, and Secretary of State, is tasked with promulgating policies and programs for ORR to follow to ensure that unaccompanied children are “protected from traffickers and other persons seeking to victimize or otherwise engage such children in criminal, harmful, or exploitative activity.”⁶¹ Importantly, children in ORR’s care and custody are to be promptly placed in the “least restrictive setting that is in the best interest of the child.”⁶² The least restrictive setting requirement works hand in hand with the HSA requirement of sponsor placement and prevents children from being held in government detention indefinitely while awaiting their immigration hearings.

The TVPRA directs ORR to find each child a suitable sponsor who is capable of providing for the child’s physical and mental well-being.⁶³ ORR is tasked with verifying a sponsor’s identity and relationship to the child and is responsible for ensuring that a sponsor has not engaged in any activity that would signal potential risk to the child.⁶⁴ ORR must also determine whether a study of the sponsor’s home is necessary before placement, which is required for children who were victims of severe forms of trafficking or of physical or sexual abuse, who have disabilities, or whose proposed sponsors clearly present a risk of “abuse, maltreatment, exploitation, or trafficking.”⁶⁵ After placement, the TVPRA requires ORR to conduct “follow-up services” only for children for whom a home study was conducted, but ORR is authorized to conduct such services for children who could “benefit from ongoing assistance from a social welfare agency.”⁶⁶ What follow-up services entail is not defined in the law, nor is there guidance as to which children would benefit from ongoing assistance, leaving ORR with discretion unless directed otherwise. Put another way, if no home study is performed, ORR has no responsibility under the TVPRA to follow up with a child whom it placed into a sponsor’s care.

D.ORR’s Role in Child Custody and Placement

As laid out in the HSA and TVPRA, ORR is the branch of HHS tasked with caring for and placing unaccompanied minors into sponsor homes. Those two statutes, and by extension, the Flores Agreement, provide the legal basis for ORR’s UAC Bureau, which puts the statutory schemes of child detention and placement into practice. Exploring the reality of the UAC Bureau, including how and where children are actually placed and what occurs after placement, is essential to understanding how immigration law and ORR practices place migrant children at an increased risk of labor exploitation.

The majority of unaccompanied children are referred to ORR’s UAC Bureau after being apprehended by DHS border patrol officers, with some children referred by other federal agencies in rare circumstances.⁶⁷ When a child is referred to ORR, ORR obtains background information on the child from the referring agency and attempts to determine the most appropriate and least restrictive setting in which to hold the child until a sponsor determination is made.⁶⁸ Settings may include a shelter facility, foster care or group home, staff secure or secure care facility, residential treatment center, or other special needs care facility.⁶⁹ In moments of high influx, settings have included temporary influx care facilities (“ICFs”), in which hundreds or thousands of children can be kept, usually on army bases or in remote locations.⁷⁰

The initial setting that children are held in is part of the problem with ORR’s UAC Bureau. While some shelters are appropriate for children, the use of ICFs is controversial due to the “facilities’ large sizes, remote locations, durations of stay, and processes for transferring children to the facilities.”⁷¹ ORR internal reports have revealed thousands of allegations of sexual abuse and harassment in ICFs and identified shortcomings for reporting such incidents within ORR’s shelter network.⁷² Even in smaller settings, children are often traumatized by their stays in government custody. Minors are often surrounded by strangers and limited to two short phone calls per week with family members or potential sponsors, facing a lack of caregiver support that can cause toxic stress in children.⁷³ Studies have shown that children detained in federal custody can suffer from “high rates of PTSD, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation.”⁷⁴ Thus, the longer children are detained, the more likely they will suffer harm of some sort. As of March 2025, the average stay for children in ORR custody was eighty-two days, which ORR is continually working to reduce.⁷⁵

The placement of children in sponsor homes and ORR’s follow-up services are of particular interest in this Note. As discussed, ORR’s placement of a child with a sponsor begins as soon as ORR takes custody, with the Flores Agreement preferences used as a guideline in placement. Parents, relatives, and close family members in the United States may apply to have a child in custody released to their care.⁷⁶ If no family member comes forward, ORR works with the child to identify a potential sponsor, or with the child’s consulate or a reputable family tracing organization if the child is too young to provide potential sponsor information.⁷⁷

ORR requires each potential sponsor to be screened using safe screening methods. A non-exhaustive list of safe screening methods includes identifying the sponsor, verifying a familial relationship, coordinating with a child’s parents, legal guardians, or closest relative to contact nonrelative adult sponsors, screening for exploitation or trafficking concerns, or communicating with the child directly about his or her own sense of safety.⁷⁸

Sponsor requirements are not extensive. For the most part, a sponsor simply needs to fill out an application, undergo a background check, address any criminal history, and provide proof of their identity and address, the identity of the child whom they wish to sponsor, and any sponsor-child relationship.⁷⁹ Sponsors are assessed based on a number of factors. A non-exhaustive list includes the sponsor’s relationship with the child, their resources and motivation to care for the child, the child’s view on the release, the sponsor’s understanding of the child’s needs, and risk factors that may impact the child, such as the sponsor’s criminal background, history of substance abuse, mental health issues, or domestic violence or child welfare concerns.⁸⁰ ORR does not disqualify sponsors “based solely on their immigration status or for law enforcement purposes.”⁸¹ Importantly, while sponsors enter into agreements with the federal government to provide for the physical and mental well-being of children,⁸² there appears to be no enforcement mechanism at ORR’s disposal to ensure that sponsors live up to their agreements.

Once a child is transferred to a sponsor’s custody, “ORR’s custodial relationship with the child terminates,” and care providers are required only to keep a child’s case file open for thirty days to conduct a “Safety and Well-Being Follow Up Call.”⁸³ The purpose of the safety call is to determine whether the child is safe, still in the sponsor’s care, enrolled in or attending school, and aware of upcoming immigration court dates.⁸⁴ If the care provider cannot get in touch with the child or sponsor, the provider is required only to document that fact in the child’s file,⁸⁵ a somewhat inadequate requirement given that the government has tasked itself with ensuring the well-being of unaccompanied children.⁸⁶ While ORR provides post-release services to some children with certain needs, most children and sponsors are given access only to a national hotline to be called when needed. With hotline reports of labor trafficking and exploitation of unaccompanied children jumping up in 2023,⁸⁷ it is alarming that ORR was able to contact only 81% of sponsor households between 2021 and 2022.⁸⁸ But even more alarming is that ORR has no legal responsibility to track children once they leave its custody⁸⁹ or to remove children from unfit sponsors in the event a child is exploited.⁹⁰

III. Labor Law’s Role in protecting Unaccompanied Children

While the federal government grappled with an influx of unaccompanied minors during the Biden presidency, the United States saw a 69% increase nationwide in the number of documented cases involving children employed illegally from 2018 through 2022, notably in dangerous workplaces such as meatpacking plants, construction sites, and food-processing factories.⁹¹ This increase corresponded with several news reports in 2023 detailing migrant children working in dangerous workplaces in violation of child labor laws,⁹² along with reports documenting the possible trafficking of migrant children into forced labor.⁹³ While this Note has explored the leaky system of sponsor placement for unaccompanied minors, an exploration of the laws governing child labor protections also needs to be conducted before the holes in the system can be addressed.

A. The Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 and Related Child Labor Policies

The federal law governing the employment of child labor is the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 (“FLSA”).⁹⁴ The FLSA imposes occupational and hourly restrictions for children of different ages and provides penalties for employers who violate these restrictions. According to § 212(c) of the FLSA, employers⁹⁵ cannot employ any “oppressive child labor” in commerce, the “production of goods for commerce,” or any “enterprise engaged in commerce or the production of goods for commerce.”⁹⁶ Oppressive child labor means that an employer employs a child under the age of sixteen in any industry except for those exempted by the Secretary of Labor⁹⁷ or that a child between sixteen and eighteen is employed in any occupation declared as particularly hazardous for the child or detrimental to the child’s health.⁹⁸

There are several subparts in the Code of Federal Regulations (“CFR”) that either permit or prohibit specific jobs that children are allowed to work, with jobs not explicitly allowed by the CFR considered prohibited.⁹⁹ The CFR allows minors to work in jobs like babysitting, newspaper delivery, and retail work,¹⁰⁰ but minors are generally not allowed to work in hazardous occupations such as manufacturing, mining, processing, construction, roofing, warehousing, or transportation of persons.¹⁰¹ Working hours for children between the ages of fourteen and fifteen are restricted by the FLSA, with such children generally not allowed to work during school hours, more than three hours a day or eighteen hours a week while school is in session, or beyond 7 p.m. during the school year or 9 p.m. during the summer.¹⁰² Children sixteen and older can generally work without hourly restriction in any jobs that have not been declared hazardous or detrimental to their health. While occupational restrictions remain in place as children age, federal law removes hourly restrictions when children turn sixteen, a somewhat arbitrary line, but one that corresponds with the maximum age of compulsory school attendance in many states. The main thrust of the FLSA’s restrictions is that children should not be working in hazardous workplaces or doing jobs that are detrimental to their health, nor should work interfere with their education.

An employer who violates the FLSA is subject to civil money penalties and possibly up to six months in prison if they willfully violate a child labor provision subsequent to an earlier conviction.¹⁰³ Employers are subject to a maximum fine of $15,138 for each employee who was the subject of a child labor violation and can face fines up to $68,801 for each violation that causes the death or serious injury of employees under eighteen.¹⁰⁴ For repeated or willful violations that lead to the death or serious injury of a child employee, the fine may double.¹⁰⁵ There is no private cause of action under the FLSA for children who suffer child labor violations, a problematic omission that will be discussed in Section IV.B.2.

DOL’s Wage and Hour Division (“WHD”) is responsible for investigating and determining whether employers are in compliance with the FLSA’s child labor provisions.¹⁰⁶ In 2023, WHD concluded 955 cases involving child labor violations, finding 5,792 minors were employed in violation of the FLSA, of which 502 were employed in hazardous occupations.¹⁰⁷ During the Biden presidency, WHD stepped up enforcement significantly, levying multi-million dollars in fines that nearly doubled in amount year-over-year between 2022 and 2024.¹⁰⁸ Unfortunately, the number of cases involving migrant children is not tracked by WHD, but the number of children employed in violation of federal law increased 88% between 2019 and 2023,¹⁰⁹ corresponding with the influx of unaccompanied child arrivals.

In February 2023, DOL and ORR recognized the link between increased child migration and increased child labor exploitation and entered into an interagency agreement to combat child labor exploitation amongst unaccompanied children.¹¹⁰ Pursuant to this agreement, DOL and ORR collaborate and share information regarding child labor investigations and child placements.¹¹¹ The agencies gave an example of what this information sharing looks like: DOL shares information regarding an active child labor investigation with ORR, and ORR scrutinizes its sponsor vetting process in the related geographic location for signs of exploitation affecting unaccompanied children placed nearby.¹¹² In the agreement, WHD pledged to affirmatively initiate investigations in which child labor violations are most likely to occur, while ORR pledged to follow up with any child who calls the ORR National Call Center with a safety concern, a practice that was not previously utilized.¹¹³ Most importantly, the agreement called on Congress to increase funding for WHD and the Office of the Solicitor to investigate child labor cases and to increase civil penalties for child labor violations to be more of a deterrent for employers.¹¹⁴ WHD and the Office of the Solicitor have been chronically underfunded for decades, costing WHD 12% of its staff between 2010 and 2019 and resulting in more than a hundred attorneys leaving the Office of the Solicitor.¹¹⁵ Those losses have limited the number of child labor cases that WHD and the Office of the Solicitor can investigate and conclude. Given that the actual number of child labor violations in the United States is currently unknown and WHD’s budget shortfalls leave it unable to properly investigate, there is no telling how many children are actually being exploited in U.S. workplaces.

B. Varying State Child Labor Laws

As mentioned earlier, state law plays a role in the child labor protection scheme, with each state having its own system for policing illegal child labor. Some states simply implement FLSA’s provisions into their labor codes, but many create stronger protections for minors. For instance, California follows the FLSA structure of occupational and hourly restrictions but imposes hourly restrictions on children over sixteen.¹¹⁶ California’s labor code also expands the reach of its child labor protections to any person who owns or controls real property where a minor is employed if that person benefits from the minor’s employment and knowingly permits a child labor violation.¹¹⁷ Extending liability to those who own or control property covers situations in which no employment relationship exists between the property holder and a minor. For example, if a business entity hires an independent contractor to work on the entity’s property and the contractor uses illegal child labor, the entity could be liable despite having no control over the contractor’s employee. State laws also often require children and employers to obtain work permits that can provide proof of age and detail any restrictions in working hours or tasks a minor is qualified to do.¹¹⁸

Troublingly, at least twenty-eight states have reworked their labor codes to loosen restrictions on child labor since 2021, with some states loosening hourly and occupational restrictions to the point of conflict with the FLSA.¹¹⁹ Iowa, for example, loosened occupational restrictions to allow children to work in dangerous occupations like brick manufacturing, roofing, and excavation, which are prohibited under the FLSA.¹²⁰ Iowa’s approach of allowing children to work in direct violation of FLSA restrictions is reflective of a recent push by some states to create a point of tension between state and federal law, which puts DOL on alert moving forward.¹²¹

Due to the varying approaches states take to child labor protections, state law generally is not the best tool with which to protect unaccompanied minors. While states like California may offer stronger protections than states like Iowa, unaccompanied minors will only be protected by the laws of the states in which they reside with their sponsors. Relying on state law to cure the gaps in federal law creates a system in which unaccompanied minors will be exposed to various levels of risk depending on how much emphasis states put on protecting children in the workplace.

C. Anti-Trafficking Laws Protecting Unaccompanied Children

Labor trafficking of unaccompanied minors is the ultimate concern when it comes to labor exploitation. Although the TVPRA is written to help protect minors from being trafficked by requiring DHS to determine whether an unaccompanied minor has been a victim of a severe form of trafficking or whether a child is at risk of being a victim in the future,¹²² there are not many preventative measures once a child leaves ORR custody. The precursor to the TVPRA, the Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2000 (“TVPA”), added criminal offenses relating to human trafficking to the United States Code, which are supposed to act as a deterrent to would-be traffickers.¹²³ Under 18 U.S.C. § 1589, defendants found to be trafficking in persons can face fines and be imprisoned for up to twenty years.¹²⁴ If a trafficking violation includes kidnapping or an attempt to kidnap, aggravated sexual abuse, or an attempt to kill, the trafficker can be imprisoned for life.¹²⁵ Traffickers are people who knowingly provide or obtain the labor or services of a person by means or threats of force, physical restraint, serious harm, the actual or threatened abuse of law or legal process, or by any scheme, plan, or pattern intended to cause a person to believe that if they do not perform labor or services, they or another person would suffer serious harm or physical restraint.¹²⁶ The meaning of the term “serious harm” is broad, including physical, psychological, financial, or reputational harm that is serious enough to compel a reasonable person of the same background and in the same circumstances to perform labor or services to avoid the harm.¹²⁷ Traffickers are also subject to civil penalties, including full restitution to a victim for the full amount of the victim’s losses.¹²⁸

On its face, the penalty scheme for trafficking has robust enough punishments to deter sponsors or third parties from trafficking unaccompanied minors and abusing their labor. But the actual effectiveness of those deterrents is unknown given that there are no readily available and reliable statistics about how often traffickers are prosecuted for the labor trafficking of unaccompanied minors. Unaccompanied children have a remedy under the TVPA in the event that trafficking is proven, but trafficking tends to be very hard to prosecute, and the TVPA’s deterrents are unlikely to keep migrant children from being pressured or forced into hazardous labor in the first place. As discussed, migrant children often want to work to help their families, and it is unlikely that many know what a textbook case of labor trafficking consists of or when to report it. While these protections for unaccompanied children and punishments for traffickers are important to keep in mind, a lack of information from the government prevents this Note from being able to adequately explore and critique the TVPA’s efficacy.

IV. ISSUES WITH and possible solutions for ORR’s PLACEMENT OF UNACCOMPANIED MINORS AND Federal enforcement of Child LABOR LAWs

Migrant children working in hazardous occupations is not a new issue, but the rate at which child labor violations are increasing and the holes in the placement and supervision of unaccompanied children portend serious failings in U.S. law and the procedures that federal agencies employ. At best, the current gaps in immigration and labor law increase the risk of migrant children being exploited or harmed by working in jobs they should not be in. At worst, the gaps are large enough to allow labor trafficking to occur. Determining how to solve the issue is not a straightforward exercise. Federal agencies, shelter networks, and individuals all have a part to play, but the complex web of federal laws, regulations, and interagency agreements has been built by dealing with one symptom of the unaccompanied arrivals issue at a time. The government should take a more comprehensive approach, updating existing laws as a complete system to protect children from point A (arrival at the border) to point B (the resolution of immigration proceedings). The Biden administration rightfully responded to unaccompanied arrivals with a humanitarian approach focused on quickly getting children out of federal custody, but current law does not ensure that unaccompanied children will be adequately taken care of after their release. The TVPRA alone does not mandate ORR to do enough to protect children, nor does the FLSA provide robust enough enforcement mechanisms to properly deter irresponsible employers or third parties from exploiting children who are motivated to work for a variety of reasons. State law also cannot be relied on to adequately protect unaccompanied children due to the various different enforcement schemes at hand across the nation.

This Part will identify issues with ORR’s custody, placement, and post-release supervision of unaccompanied minors and DOL’s inability to properly deter illegal child labor. It will also discuss possible solutions that can be implemented in a way that balances humanitarian principles with employer realities and government capabilities, presenting a series of adjustments in U.S immigration and labor law that could combine to minimize the risk that unaccompanied children face labor exploitation. This Part assumes that the majority of employers are responsible and seek to fully comply with the law. It uses the term “irresponsible employers” to mean those that would willingly resort to illegal child labor in violation of state or federal law.

A.Issues with ORR’s Custody, Placement, and Post-Release Supervision of Unaccompanied Minors

1.Proper Vetting of Sponsors Versus Speed of Release

As discussed in Part III, there are many drawbacks to holding children in ORR custody. Children may suffer sexual harassment and abuse in government facilities,¹²⁹ and a child’s lack of contact with their family can lead to toxic stress that permanently alters brain chemistry.¹³⁰ Children being traumatized in federal custody is real. Studies show that detention is “deleterious to the mental health of immigrants” and that detained children experience significant psychological distress, especially when separated from their caretakers.¹³¹ While the risk of harm to migrant children in ORR’s custody has been clearly documented, releasing a child to a sponsor too quickly can put the child at risk of not being properly cared for, possibly leading to the child’s exploitation or trafficking, examples of which reporters have repeatedly identified.¹³² Thus, the government must strike a risk-minimizing balance between quickly placing unaccompanied children with sponsors to avoid prolonged detention and properly vetting sponsor households to ensure a safe environment for paroled children.

During the first Trump presidency, the average length of time that unaccompanied children remained in ORR custody ballooned to 102 days, partially as a result of an information-sharing agreement between ORR, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (“ICE”), and CBP that was geared toward increasing the due diligence required for sponsors.¹³³ The agreement called for ORR to share the citizenship and immigration status, criminal and immigration history, and biographic and biometric information about potential sponsors and their household members with ICE.¹³⁴ In turn, ICE would provide summaries of a sponsor’s immigration and criminal histories for ORR to make a more thorough decision on a sponsor’s suitability.¹³⁵ While the Trump administration sold the agreement as a more stringent vetting of sponsors to ensure the well-being and protection of unaccompanied minors, the policy was ultimately used by ICE to arrest and deport undocumented migrants who applied to sponsor children, causing a chilling effect on the number of sponsors willing to apply to take children in.¹³⁶ With fewer sponsors, increases in minors’ detention time naturally resulted. A massive backlog of unaccompanied minors in prolonged detention led the Biden administration to terminate the Trump-era information sharing agreement between ORR and ICE and temporarily waive background check requirements for sponsor applicant household members,¹³⁷ adopting a controversial policy of moving children more rapidly through the shelter system.¹³⁸ These policy changes created a major issue for the UAC Bureau: the risk of harm to children in custody was traded for the risk that children would end up in an inappropriate sponsor home. Moving back into a Trump presidency begs the question of whether President Biden’s approach should persist.

The second Trump administration should not return to a policy of sharing sponsor information between ORR and ICE, as it greatly prolonged child stays in detention while being used as a tool to deport family members who sought to reunite with children in federal custody. The Biden administration’s decision to terminate the information sharing agreement to speed up sponsor placements was the correct call, as it is not in the best interests of unaccompanied children or the government to discourage sponsorship by involving ICE in the vetting process. A child’s best interest is to be released quickly and safely, ideally into a family member’s care. But many family members of unaccompanied children may themselves be undocumented or live with others who are. Allowing ICE to scrutinize members of a sponsor’s household will undoubtedly disincentivize family members from applying as sponsors and lead to longer detention for children, as seen during the first Trump presidency. It is also unlikely that the immigration status of a member of a sponsor’s household, on its own, increases any risk to a child placed in the sponsor’s care. Likewise, the government’s best interest is also to quickly and safely place a child in a sponsor’s care, as it is not feasible for ORR to house, educate, and care for tens of thousands of children for any prolonged period of time. In its current state, the U.S. immigration system is not equipped to care for unaccompanied minors for more than a few weeks, if at all. Placing children with sponsors quickly, even if a member of a sponsor’s household may not have legal status in the United States, is better than leaving children languishing in federal detention and meets the needs of both unaccompanied minors and the federal government.

While the second Trump administration should not return to its former policies, the Biden administration’s policy of speeding up sponsor placements by waiving background checks for members of a sponsor applicant’s household should also not be used in the future. When ORR’s ability to properly care for children in custody is maxed out, sponsor placement is the only option, absent an uptick in resources meted out by Congress. That is the situation the Biden administration found itself in after taking office. But while speeding up placements is the only adequate option during times of agency overwhelm, the executive branch should not be able to resort to outright waivers of background checks for members of sponsor-applicants’ homes, as such measures impose unnecessary risk on the children that ORR is tasked to protect. The TVPRA already spells out minimum considerations ORR must make regarding sponsors,¹³⁹ and agency officials should remain beholden to minimal legal standards for the safety of unaccompanied minors.

Congress can likely address the shortcomings of both the Trump and Biden administrations by amending the TVPRA to ensure that anti-immigration administrations cannot impose unnecessary burdens on the UAC Bureau that slow child placement and that immigration-neutral or pro-immigration administrations cannot waive necessary background checks. Rather than setting a minimum standard, the TVPRA could be amended to define what a proper background check consists of, while making that background check non-waivable. While the TVPRA has minimum background check standards, Congress should take some discretion out of the hands of the Secretary of HHS by laying down a comprehensive and non-waivable background check via statute. Congress is in the best position to listen to stakeholders and balance the needs of children and HHS in outlining a background check. It can define the full scope of what a proper background check should consist of, prohibiting unnecessary steps like the extra ICE check, while ensuring that background checks cannot be legally waived by the HHS Secretary. Moreover, Congress should also statutorily guarantee that it will adjust ORR’s funding in times of system overwhelm. Such measures would add a layer of accountability and oversight over HHS in order to protect children from the harm of being released to unsuitable sponsors and guarantee that ORR has the resources it needs to properly ramp up operations during times of influx.

2.Keeping Track of Migrant Children Paroled into Sponsor Homes

The true impact of the Biden administration’s changes to sponsor vetting and child placement is currently unknown due to a lack of information about children placed into a sponsor’s care after a waived background check, which is a large part of the issue. According to former HHS Secretary Xavier Becerra, ORR has no legal requirement to keep track of children once it releases them from its custody, nor do paroled children or their sponsors have an obligation to follow up with ORR.¹⁴⁰ This is a major gap in the TVPRA and related regulations that raises the risk of labor exploitation. ORR increasingly lost touch with the children it paroled into sponsor care during the Biden presidency, as evidenced by the fact that it could not reach roughly 85,000 children for follow-up calls.¹⁴¹ Without a legal mandate to keep track of unaccompanied children upon release, ORR cannot be expected to prioritize critical measures that could help ensure the well-being of paroled children. ORR is the first line of defense in ensuring that children are in proper homes in which education is the priority, and the agency should be required to procure and maintain post-release data about whether children are attending school full-time or working, the nature of any such employment, and whether sponsors are adequately caring for them. Such data is critical in evaluating whether children are at a greater risk of harm by remaining in government custody or by being released as quickly as possible. At a minimum, Congress should amend the TVPRA to require ORR to keep track of children formerly in its custody and record statistics regarding school attendance and work performed, along with qualitative data about the child’s experience with their sponsor.

ORR does voluntarily contact children thirty days after their release and offers post-release services to a decent number of children,¹⁴² which shows that some infrastructure exists that could be scaled up. But ORR is not currently equipped to keep track of the tens of thousands of sponsored children currently in the United States and would certainly need further funding from Congress to do so. It is important to note that children would not need to be monitored indefinitely. The length of time that monitoring would be required is limited temporally by two factors: first, all unaccompanied minors are placed into removal proceedings immediately upon being transferred into ORR’s custody,¹⁴³ meaning each child’s monitoring has a guaranteed end date based on a determination of their immigration status; and second, children age out of the unaccompanied child program when they turn eighteen.¹⁴⁴ While ORR would need to significantly scale up its post-release capabilities to comprehensively track where every unaccompanied child goes and what happens to them post-release, this is likely a matter of political will that could have the backing of both conservative politicians concerned about undocumented immigrants in the country and liberal politicians concerned about the wellbeing of migrant children.

Monitoring whether unaccompanied children are attending school regularly would greatly improve the ability of ORR and DOL to identify children who may be at risk of exploitation. Much of the victimization discussed in this Note centers on unaccompanied minors who are working in hazardous conditions in violation of federal child labor laws. Children released to sponsors are usually required to attend school under state law,¹⁴⁵ but news reports make clear that many are not attending school regularly, if at all, and instead working long shifts in dangerous workplaces.¹⁴⁶ These children should be attending school full-time and focusing on their immigration matters. If a child’s attendance record in school is sparse, it may be evidence that the child is being overworked outside of school, which could point to exploitation from a third party. While ORR alone does not have the capacity or infrastructure to monitor every child it places into a sponsor home, it could enter into an information-sharing agreement with the Department of Education (“DOE”) to monitor school attendance for paroled children attending public schools. Local and state education boards regularly track student attendance in schools, and public schools that receive federal funding have the ability to share attendance statistics with DOE under the Federal Educational Rights and Privacy Act (“FERPA”).¹⁴⁷ Although FERPA protects the privacy of students’ education records (including history of attendance) and prevents them from being shared with any individual, agency, or organization without the written consent of parents,¹⁴⁸ the law only specifically affords privacy protections to parents and eligible students.¹⁴⁹ FERPA arguably does not apply to unaccompanied minors who are not in the care of their parents and, as such, would not be an impediment to DOE sharing student records with ORR. This kind of interagency agreement would provide ORR with vital information that could help tip the government off to potential exploitation of children who are not regularly attending class.

Through congressional mandate or interagency cooperation, keeping track of paroled children is the surest way to monitor their wellbeing and prevent them from working in dangerous situations. If the TVPRA were amended to mandate that ORR keep track of paroled children, an information-sharing agreement with DOE would likely be an efficient and cost-effective way to fulfill part of that mandate. Along with ORR’s information-sharing agreement with DOL, an agreement with DOE would enable federal agencies to pool their resources and work together to protect unaccompanied minors, without requiring a massive increase in funding from Congress. In today’s polarized political climate, a targeted amendment to the TVPRA and an interagency agreement are probably the most realistic and practical solutions.

3.Implementing Reporting Requirements for Sponsors

Even if ORR was mandated to monitor every unaccompanied child post-release, its efforts would not be effective without a change in current law to require sponsors and paroled children to report in to the agency. As previously noted, ORR was able to contact only about 81% of sponsor households with thirty-day wellness checks between 2022 and 2023.¹⁵⁰ Mandating ORR to contact children will not ensure contact will be made. Sponsors and children may simply be unreachable. While each sponsor signs an agreement with the federal government promising to provide for a child’s well-being, there is seemingly no requirement that a sponsor prove that they are doing so. For instance, if a sponsor coerces a child to work in order to pay for rent or meals that the sponsor is supposed to provide, ORR will not know unless the child reports the abuse to ORR’s National Call Center. The current system puts the onus squarely on children to voluntarily report their own abuse, which leads to guaranteed underreporting issues.¹⁵¹ A more humane system would require sponsors to check in with ORR at regular intervals to certify that children are being cared for, with an emphasis placed on hearing from the child directly. While such reporting requirements would still be vulnerable to sponsor misrepresentation or noncompliance, an affirmative obligation would exist for sponsors that could deter unsuitable sponsors from applying in the first place.

There may be some question as to whether tracking children post-release is actually necessary, as most children who arrive unaccompanied at the border are fifteen or older.¹⁵² Indeed, the idea of fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds entering the workforce is common in the United States,¹⁵³ but it is important to remember we are talking about a specific subset of particularly vulnerable children. It should not be controversial to say that a child’s focus should be on completing a primary education rather than working in a factory or slaughterhouse. As it stands, children who fail to attend school regularly, regardless of the reason, tend to suffer worse outcomes than those who do.¹⁵⁴ If the federal government is intent on meeting arrivals of unaccompanied children with a humanitarian focus, as it was under President Biden, it must create an immigration system that focuses on providing unaccompanied children with a proper education while keeping them from working in illegal occupations. Knowing where children are and what their condition is post-release is an important step toward meeting those goals and lowering the risk of harm.

4.Enforcement Mechanism Needed

The last major problem with ORR that this Note will address is ORR’s inability to act when sponsors fail to properly care for children. ORR’s role is limited to placing children safely into sponsor homes. It is not a federal law enforcement agency, and it is not statutorily tasked with scrutinizing whether sponsorships are successful. But ORR does require sponsors to agree to provide care for paroled children,¹⁵⁵ and it has an interest in knowing that sponsors comply with those agreements. If a sponsor’s care is lacking, ORR does not have many options to enforce its agreement and ensure that children are getting the help they need. According to former ORR Director Robin Dunn Marcos, ORR’s only recourse in such cases is to refer the matter “to local law enforcement, child protective service[s], and other federal entities as appropriate.”¹⁵⁶ ORR itself has no power to remove a child from a sponsor’s care. While referring allegations of sponsor abuse to state and local agencies seems like a reasonable process, the reliance on third-party entities to make a determination adds complexity to the UAC Bureau system and shifts the burden of protection away from the federal government. Unaccompanied children have distinct needs due to their immigration status, such that being placed into a foster home by a state or local agency may complicate their ability to seek familial help or legal representation during their immigration processes. Rather than relying on state agencies using differing processes to address sponsor abuse or abandonment, the federal government should be responsible for managing each unaccompanied minor to ensure continuity of care throughout the immigration process.

If an ORR sponsor credibly fails to honor their agreement with the federal government, there should be tangible actions that ORR can take, such as reclaiming custody of any child in the sponsor’s care and revoking that sponsor’s right to sponsor other children in the future. Rather than letting paroled children bounce between local, state, and federal agencies in the event of a failed sponsorship, Congress should amend the TVPRA to allow ORR to reassign children to suitable sponsors. Failed sponsorships include not only cases of abuse and exploitation, but also cases of neglect and abandonment in which sponsors help children get out of federal custody but then leave them to fend for themselves after release, which are not always foreseeable situations when vetting sponsors. By allowing or requiring ORR to retake custody of unaccompanied minors, Congress would incentivize ORR to follow sponsor-vetting procedures and find the right match at the outset, while allowing for continuity of contact between paroled children and the agency in the event a child is exploited by their sponsor. Increased continuity would lessen the confusion that unaccompanied children experience throughout the UAC Bureau and task ORR with the responsibility to make the program a success.

B. Inadequacies in FLSA Penalties and DOL Enforcement Capabilities

In 2023, then former ORR Director Dunn Marcos told the House Oversight and Accountability Subcommittee on National Security, the Border, and Foreign Affairs that combatting labor exploitation among unaccompanied children requires “a whole-of-government approach,”¹⁵⁷ intimating that ORR alone cannot solve the issue. Despite facing heavy bipartisan criticism for ORR’s performance, Director Dunn Marcos was correct. The federal government must act in tandem across agencies and government branches to properly safeguard unaccompanied minors. Collaborating with DOE would be a start in terms of monitoring children’s well-being post-release, but ORR cannot also monitor children in the workplace. That task belongs to DOL. While an existing agreement between the agencies exists to tackle possible labor exploitation of unaccompanied minors, congressional action and statutory changes are needed to further reduce the risk of exploitation for unaccompanied minors. This Section will address DOL’s chronic underfunding and FLSA’s insufficient statutory penalties as two issues that can be remedied to reduce the risk of unaccompanied minor exploitation. Further, it will discuss the need for a private cause of action for victims of willful child labor violations to provide children with a remedy for the harm they suffer.

1.DOL’s Chronic Underfunding Increases the Risk that Unaccompanied Minors Go Unnoticed by Federal Investigators

2023 and 2024 marked DOL’s most aggressive enforcement years in the agency’s history in terms of punishing employers who illegally employed child labor.¹⁵⁸ In response to a reported 88% jump in illegal child labor between 2019 and 2023,¹⁵⁹ DOL made clear that the rising rate “is a direct result of [the agency’s] increased emphasis on identifying child labor cases and bringing enforcement actions when [it] find[s] companies violating the law.”¹⁶⁰ The agency’s focus on expanding enforcement actions is welcome news for those concerned about unaccompanied children facing labor exploitation or trafficking, but Congress has left DOL chronically underfunded for years, undercutting WHD’s ability to properly investigate and enforce child labor laws.

In reviewing DOL’s 2024 budget, the number of investigators that WHD employed is near the lowest it has been in the last fifty years, down significantly from the peak level achieved in the 2013 fiscal year.¹⁶¹ According to the agency, reduced staffing levels limit WHD’s ability to “develop impactful cases,” and “[c]ontinuing to operate at these levels poses significant risks to the [agency’s] mission.”¹⁶² As of April 2023, WHD employed a mere 794 investigators¹⁶³ to police 11 million workplaces and enforce laws protecting roughly 165 million workers.¹⁶⁴ The number of investigators that WHD can afford to hire has eroded year-after-year since the agency employed over a thousand investigators per year from 2010 to 2013.¹⁶⁵ WHD’s 2023 operating budget authority of roughly $310 million was a slight increase over 2022’s $299 million,¹⁶⁶ but in terms of inflation-adjusted dollars, those funding figures are roughly even with the amount of money appropriated by Congress back in 2006,¹⁶⁷ demonstrating that Congress has been unwilling to increase its investment in the enforcement of child labor protections for decades. Without adequate funding, WHD cannot ensure it has an adequate number of investigators to look into allegations of illegal child labor.¹⁶⁸

The sheer number of workplaces that WHD is responsible for illustrates the problem of underfunding. If each of WHD’s 794 investigators began individually reviewing one workplace per day for signs of child labor violations, it would take roughly thirty-eight years to complete a single round of investigations of all eleven million workplaces in the United States.¹⁶⁹ Obviously, not every employer needs to be investigated for child labor violations, as many (if not most) do everything in their power to follow the law, but the illustration serves to show how thinly stretched WHD is. Under all of the statutes that WHD enforces, it concluded 20,215 compliance actions in 2023, its lowest total in ten years.¹⁷⁰ Even though its number of closed cases involving child labor violations reached a ten-year high in 2023,¹⁷¹ WHD failed to conclude the same number of compliance actions as the previous year for the sixth straight year.¹⁷² These figures should not be read to assume that federal labor law violations are on the decline. As evidenced by the sharp increase in child labor law violations nationwide, the rate of violations tends to increase in areas in which WHD focuses its attention in the first place.

The only solution to the issue of inadequate enforcement caused by understaffing is proper funding. Both chambers of Congress have made a point to try to address child labor violations by presenting bills with expanded penalties for violators,¹⁷³ but increasing penalties alone will not lessen WHD’s burden as it attempts to enforce child labor laws. Harsher penalties may deter some irresponsible employers and lead them back to a place of compliance, but the agency will likely still be stymied by the same erosion of resources and investigators as has been the case the past ten years. If Congress is serious about addressing the harms that unaccompanied children (and U.S. children) face in abusive workplaces, it needs to fully fund DOL, as the Biden administration requested in its 2024 budget. With full agency funding, WHD would have the capacity to increase child labor investigations, thereby reducing the risk that unaccompanied minors working in some of the United States’ most dangerous workplaces go unnoticed. Without adequate funding, WHD will be continually forced to ration its enforcement capabilities with an ever-shrinking roster of investigators, thus ensuring that labor exploitation of unaccompanied minors goes unnoticed.

2. Current FLSA Penalties Are Inadequate to Deter Bad Actors from Committing Child Labor Law Violations

Even if Congress adequately funded DOL, there would still be an issue of inadequate penalties for child labor law violators. As mentioned in Section III.A, FLSA violators are currently subject to a maximum fine of $15,138 for each child labor violation and can be fined up to $68,801 for each violation that causes the death or serious injury of any employee under eighteen.¹⁷⁴ By assessing fines per violation,¹⁷⁵ WHD is also able to stack penalties against violators depending on the severity of the conduct. But while these fines may be costly, the FLSA penalization scheme often feels woefully insufficient based on the harm suffered.

For instance, a contractor that hired a fifteen-year-old boy to do roofing work on a corporate building was fined $117,175 in civil penalties for FLSA child labor violations, but the harm the boy suffered included falling fifty feet to his death on his first day of work.¹⁷⁶ Proportionally, the civil penalty feels inadequate given that the boy lost his life in a job he should have never been hired for. To make matters worse, the fines collected in such a tragedy only go toward “reimbursement of [WHD’s] costs of determining the violations and assessing and collecting such penalties.”¹⁷⁷ No compensation exists under the FLSA for the victim or their family. Depending on the size of the irresponsible employer cited, a six-figure fine may not be enough of a deterrent for risky behavior.

In lieu of fines, WHD may hold an irresponsible employer accountable by activating the “hot goods” provision of the FLSA, allowing WHD to prevent the sale of any goods made using oppressive child labor.¹⁷⁸ This provision was used in 2023 against a Wisconsin sawmill operator following the death of a sixteen-year-old who was caught in a wood-stacking machine, resulting in the company’s goods being withheld from shipment.¹⁷⁹ Ultimately, in exchange for WHD releasing its hold on the goods, the sawmill operator agreed to $190,696 in civil penalties for numerous child labor violations and to place labels and signage to prevent children under eighteen from using dangerous equipment at the sawmill.¹⁸⁰ The company then fired all employees under the age of eighteen.¹⁸¹ While costly and inconvenient for the sawmill operator, the threat of such fines did not prevent the tragic outcome in the first place.

Given that child labor violations, even those involving the death of children, generally result only in civil monetary penalties that are limited by statute, Congress should revisit the effectiveness of the FLSA’s penalization scheme. The current scheme does not make up for the serious harm children sometimes suffer, nor are the penalties adequate to deter irresponsible actors from using and abusing the labor of unaccompanied children. While many responsible employers will be sure to hire competent counsel to guide their compliance efforts, irresponsible employers may not and might expose children to risk based on a cost-benefit analysis.

To illustrate an extreme case, a slaughterhouse sanitation company was fined more than $1.5 million after WHD investigators found over one hundred children employed by the company cleaning slaughterhouses across the country.¹⁸² Some of these children were as young as thirteen and suffered chemical burns, and DHS investigated possible human trafficking after finding that some of the children were unaccompanied minors.¹⁸³ In addition to chemical burns and working overnight shifts after attending school all day,¹⁸⁴ the children also lost their jobs in response to government fines and saw no compensation from the penalties levied on their employer, aside from the end of their exploitation. While the sanitation company lost some contracts with major corporations¹⁸⁵ and paid a hefty WHD fine, it otherwise showed few, if any, signs of a long-term setback in operations and still employs about 16,500 workers nationwide.¹⁸⁶ The children who were the subject of the violations arguably fared much worse, specifically the unaccompanied minors, as such children are often motivated to work to send money home to their families¹⁸⁷ and probably needed their jobs, however exploitative. Moreover, if the sanitation company properly terminated the unaccompanied minors in its employ, the unaccompanied minors were likely left with no recourse whatsoever, as the FLSA provides no private cause of action for victims of child labor violations.

While this Note assumes that most employers want to do the right thing and do not wish to exploit children, irresponsible or negligent actors do exist. So, what statutory fixes can be made to increase deterrence? As noted earlier, several bipartisan bills have been proposed in Congress in recent years to strengthen the penalties for child labor violations.¹⁸⁸ An interesting bill advanced by Senators Brian Schatz and Todd Young, the Stop Child Labor Act,¹⁸⁹ proposed to increase the maximum FLSA fines to $132,270 for common child labor violations and $601,150 for violations that result in serious injury or death to a minor.¹⁹⁰ It also proposed a private cause of action for exploited children to seek up to $250,000 in punitive and compensatory damages in federal court.¹⁹¹ By proposing increased fines and a private cause of action, the senators’ bill addressed two issues that make current labor law so ineffective as a deterrent for irresponsible employers, thus serving as an intriguing model for how labor law could evolve to safeguard unaccompanied minors.

First, FLSA fines are currently far too low to deter many employers. Even the sizeable $1.5 million fine mentioned above can be a drop in the bucket for many companies. The sanitation company that absorbed the $1.5 million fine was bought for close to $1 billion in 2014¹⁹² and sold for an undisclosed amount in 2018 to a private equity firm with a January 2025 market cap of $210 billion.¹⁹³ While most employers are responsible and seek to avoid child labor violations, irresponsible actors may simply conduct a cost-benefit analysis and turn a blind eye to potential child labor violations in their workplaces if the payoff is high enough. There is also an issue of companies failing to recognize an appreciable risk of harm to children when utilizing staffing agencies or contractors who place children in company workplaces.¹⁹⁴ To have any kind of a deterrent effect, FLSA fines need to be high enough to convince irresponsible employers to seek full compliance with the law. Otherwise, if the cost is negligible, irresponsible actors will simply build potential penalties into their business models and accept the risk of getting caught. The Stop Child Labor Act proposed increasing the minimum and maximum fines nearly tenfold, with penalties increasing annually in lockstep with the consumer price index for all urban consumers.¹⁹⁵ It is hard to say whether these increases would be enough to properly incentivize every irresponsible actor to comply with the law or too punitive for responsible employers who mistakenly violate the law, but increases of any kind are a start and are recommended by this Note.¹⁹⁶

Second, granting a private cause of action to children who suffer exploitation may be more effective than assessing WHD penalties in remedying the harm caused, provided that responsible employers are protected from unnecessary and unfair litigation. The Stop Child Labor Act’s inclusion of liability in the form of punitive and compensatory damages for child victims is a model that could help increase deterrence and provide an avenue for unaccompanied minors to seek justice, an avenue which does not currently exist. As seen earlier, employers who are fined by WHD for child labor violations sometimes terminate all minors in their employ, even children who are not the subjects of the violations. Due to the particular needs of unaccompanied minors, they may be incentivized to work, even if the work is exploitative. Thus, losing a job, even an exploitative one, can harm these children more than it helps at times. In such a situation, government action essentially victimizes unaccompanied minors further, exposing them to a vicious cycle in which they are exploited in a job that they need, fired when DOL cracks down, and then forced to find another available job, even if it too is dangerous. Providing such children with a cause of action would give them a remedy to their individualized harm. Moreover, litigation can enable facts to come to light that demonstrate the true harm that unaccompanied minors at times suffer.

The federal government will soon be able to look to Colorado to see whether a private cause of action is viable. Colorado added a private cause of action to its labor code for aggrieved children who suffer child labor violations, which became effective on January 1, 2025.¹⁹⁷ Depending on the violation suffered, a child can recover anywhere from $500 to $65,000.¹⁹⁸ This scheme provides an outlet for exploited children to seek redress where they otherwise may not have been able to. It is worth noting, however, that such a system could be abused by children who lie about their ages, thus burdening responsible employers. Unaccompanied minors seeking work are not immune to misrepresenting their ages to employers. Importantly, Colorado’s additions to its labor code protect responsible employers by allowing actions against an employer to be waived if a minor intentionally misleads the employer about their age.¹⁹⁹ Further employer protections may be needed to avoid incentivizing frivolous litigation, such as limiting an employer’s liability in situations in which the employer was merely negligent. A delicate balance must be struck so that unaccompanied minors can seek justice and compensation without employers bearing an undue burden by having to litigate unnecessarily.

Increased fines and the availability of a private cause of action for exploited minors, with some guardrails to protect responsible employers, would add an appropriate level of deterrence to existing law and provide an avenue for unaccompanied children who are wronged to actually be compensated for their harm. Without strong deterrents, the rate of child labor violations nationwide may continue to increase, leaving unaccompanied minors at an increased risk of exploitation. At a minimum, Congress must properly fund DOL so that WHD can continue its important mission of uncovering exploitation of unaccompanied minors in the workplace.

C. Summary of Solutions

To reduce the risk of unaccompanied minors being exploited in U.S. workplaces, a number of measures need to be taken. As discussed in Section IV.A, Congress should first ensure that ORR never waives background checks for sponsors. Next, Congress should amend the TVPRA to require ORR to monitor children formerly in its custody and record school attendance and employment statistics for unaccompanied children, as well as qualitative data about each child’s experience with their sponsor. This monitoring can be accomplished by ORR increasing post-release services for all children and creating an information-sharing agreement with DOE to track school attendance among unaccompanied minors. Moreover, regulations should be implemented to require sponsors and unaccompanied children placed into their care to report to ORR periodically. To meet the mission of monitoring hundreds of thousands of paroled children, Congress will have to direct proper funding and resources to ORR, as well grant ORR the statutory authority to reclaim custody and find new sponsor homes for children whose sponsors fail to care for them.

Addressing ORR’s issues alone is not sufficient. A whole-of-government approach is required, whereby Congress must properly fund DOL so it can increase enforcement actions against irresponsible parties engaging in illegal child labor. Increased enforcement can be accomplished only by properly staffing WHD, which requires DOL to be fully funded. Additionally, Congress should act to increase the penalties that DOL can assess for child labor violations and create a cause of action for victims of illegal child labor, provided that any cause of action has proper protections built in for responsible employers. If implemented as a comprehensive set of reforms, these solutions will minimize the risk of unaccompanied children being victimized and exploited for their labor.

CONCLUSION

This Note sought to identify the gaps in federal immigration law and labor law that increase the risk of labor exploitation for unaccompanied minors who are placed in sponsor homes in the United States. While immigration law and labor law are usually looked at separately, this Note set out to recommend a comprehensive set of measures that could be taken in both areas of law to meet the common goal of mitigating the risk of harm that unaccompanied minors face due to their unique circumstances.

In making these recommendations, this Note examined a series of overlapping statutes and policies that are either structurally unsound or undermined by congressional inaction and underfunding. The TVPRA’s text and ORR’s approach to child placement are too relaxed and put unaccompanied children at an increased risk of exploitation. The TVPRA mandates government action only while unaccompanied minors are in ORR custody and relieves the government of any responsibility once children are placed into sponsor homes. Moreover, ORR does not have the resources or infrastructure available to effectively monitor every child that it releases from its custody. Similarly, while the basic structure of the FLSA is sound, the statute is undermined by relatively weak penalties and provides no avenue for child victims to seek compensation for the harm they suffer. Moreover, although Congress has signaled that it wants child labor protections to be enforced, it has underfunded the agency responsible for upholding child labor laws for years, leaving DOL understaffed and unable to meet its critical mission of holding irresponsible employers accountable and ensuring a safe workplace for children and adults alike.

Protecting unaccompanied children from labor exploitation cannot be accomplished by addressing only one set of laws or a single federal agency. A whole-of-government approach is needed whereby the legislative branch addresses gaps in current law and the executive branch uses all of the levers at its disposal to combat the issue. Legal adjustments in both immigration law and labor law and congressional funding are needed to empower ORR and DOL to fulfill their missions, and interagency agreements should be entered into and maintained in order to safeguard unaccompanied minors through their entire journey with the UAC Bureau. In the immigration arena, Congress should amend the TVPRA to require ORR to monitor children who are released from government custody until their immigration matters are settled or they age out of the UAC Bureau, and ORR must be given the authority to reclaim custody and find new sponsor homes for children who are being abused or exploited by their sponsors. ORR should also find creative ways to monitor children in lieu of increased federal funding, such as entering into an information-sharing agreement with DOE. Finally, sponsors and unaccompanied children should be required to check in with ORR as a means to demonstrate that the child is being properly cared for.

Once children have been released from ORR custody, DOL is uniquely positioned to safeguard them from employer exploitation. But DOL needs to be properly funded by Congress to be able to adequately monitor and respond to reports of illegal child labor. Understaffing has hindered DOL’s ability to investigate illegal child labor, which puts unaccompanied minors at a greater risk of harm in dangerous workplaces. While an information-sharing agreement with ORR to identify potential exploitation or trafficking amongst unaccompanied minors is a good start, DOL needs help from Congress regarding enforcement. Congress should first update the FLSA to ensure that financial penalties are high enough to act as a proper deterrent against illegal child labor. Congress should also consider providing victims of illegal child labor with a private cause of action to seek individual justice, so long as proper protections exist to prevent frivolous litigation against responsible employers.

Unaccompanied children are a particularly vulnerable group, made even more so by the shifting political winds in the United States. With the current gaps in federal law and new leadership in the executive branch every four years, unaccompanied minors are falling through the cracks and ending up in prohibited workplaces. No single agency or statutory scheme is capable of protecting each child through every step of their immigration journey. But through a collaborative and whole-of-government approach, the United States can address the shortcomings in federal immigration and labor law to properly mitigate the risk that unaccompanied children face exploitation. If Congress truly cares about children being exploited in the workplace, it should not hesitate to act by amending the TVPRA and FLSA and properly funding ORR and DOL. Congressional critiques of these agencies will not fix the structural problems hampering their performances; only congressional action can do that. The federal government has properly committed itself to protecting unaccompanied children, but it is long past time that it lives up to that commitment.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 761

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Charlie Murphy*

* Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 98; J.D. Candidate 2025, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. 2011, Emerson College. Thank you to Jeremy Gartland, Isabelle Yuan, Michelle Solarczyk, and the staff of the Southern California Law Review for their expert edits and wonderful feedback, and to Professor Rebecca Brown for her guidance and tutelage.

I especially want to thank Professor Henna Pithia and my International Human Rights Clinic classmates. Advocating for the rights of vulnerable and politically unpopular groups requires bravery and sacrifice, and the passion that Professor Pithia and my IHRC family brought to their work inspired me in writing this Note and left me in awe.

Criminalization: An Exceptionally American Response to Homelessness

July 2025July 2025Jacob Schwessinger*

This Note analyzes the recent trend of criminalizing homelessness in the United States. The first half discusses homelessness through the lens of American exceptionalism as a comparative tool. Comparing America to its international peers helps us better understand why America’s response to homelessness has become increasingly punitive. In doing so, the Note makes a novel contribution to American exceptionalism literature in applying the concept to homelessness. Specifically, it shows that while American homelessness rates are not unusually high, American shelter rates are unusually low relative to other western democracies. The Note shows this by combining national homelessness reports into a single dataset and document. The second half of the Note discusses current constitutional doctrine relating to homelessness, focusing on City of Grants Pass v. Johnson. This section uses the first half’s analysis to show why, contrary to the Supreme Court’s decision, the Ninth Circuit’s ruling was, at its core, correct on a legal and sociological level in applying status crimes doctrine to homelessness. In doing so, the Note builds on others’ defenses of the Ninth Circuit’s ruling by both adding to those legal arguments and bolstering them with a sociological grounding, offering a new way of thinking about status crimes in general and homelessness in particular. The Note mounts a defense not only of now-outdated homelessness constitutional doctrine, but also of a shift in American political culture that recognizes homelessness as a product of social circumstances rather than individual failure. Such a change is a necessary prerequisite for curbing, on legal and political levels, America’s intensifying trend of criminalizing homelessness, the first step in bringing America in line with its peers and actually solving homelessness.

Introduction

In 2010, Debra Blake, a resident of Grants Pass, Oregon, lost her job.¹ Already in a precarious financial position, she could not afford to remain in her home and was forced out.² For the next ten years, she had no choice but to spend her nights in a variety of locations, either in temporary shelters or on the streets of Grants Pass.³ This already devastating and tumultuous experience was made worse beginning in 2013, when Grants Pass began issuing civil citations to people sleeping on public property.⁴ Between 2013 and 2019, Blake accumulated over $5,000 in fines.⁵ If she did not pay those fines and was caught by the police on city property, she would be subject to criminal prosecution for trespass.⁶ With nowhere else to go, Blake was on the brink of just such a prosecution. Before any prosecution could take place, however, Debra Blake died. Little is publicly known about her death. She was sixty-two.⁷

Blake’s story is tragic, but it is far from unique in the United States. As of 2024,⁸ over 770,000 people were living without a home or apartment in America.⁹ In response, cities across the country, including Grants Pass, have passed laws and regulations increasingly hostile to their homeless residents.¹⁰ Before passing away, Blake filed a class action lawsuit with other homeless residents against Grants Pass.¹¹ She alleged that the practice of fining people for sleeping on public property violated the Eighth Amendment’s ban on status crimes—crimes which criminalize people solely for their states of being rather than their actions.¹² Although she did not live to see the result, the Ninth Circuit agreed with her claim that the city’s practice was unconstitutional.¹³ Grants Pass, however, appealed the case to the Supreme Court, which in 2024 ruled in favor of the city.¹⁴ The ruling solidified and gave constitutional cover to the nationwide trend of municipalities criminalizing homelessness.

How did we get here? What has led to so many towns and cities in the United States to criminalize homelessness? Is America unique in this regard? How should the Court have ruled? This Note explores these questions through the concept of American exceptionalism and American history to better understand and justify legal doctrine and arguments surrounding the criminalization of homelessness.

The first half of this Note, Part I, explains American homelessness and compares it to America’s international peers. Section I.A outlines its methodology showing that an approach to legal scholarship that puts black-letter law in social context is imperative for understanding law. Section I.B introduces newly synthesized data on homelessness rates and shelter rates among western democracies where data is available, showing that while America’s homelessness rate is not uniquely high, its rate of unsheltered homeless people is. The subsequent parts of this Section explain these findings. Section I.C examines government spending and America’s comparatively weak social safety net writ large. Section I.D outlines American public opinion and ideology, unveiling a culture of individualism over collectivism using a variety of political documents and public opinion polling. Section I.E discusses the role of race and homelessness, showing how America’s history of racial oppression enables and exacerbates the problem of homelessness. Section I.F explains America’s turn towards criminalization as a “solution” to homelessness, embedding it in larger trends of American history and ideology.

The second half of this Note, Part II, outlines and defends current Ninth Circuit legal doctrine on homelessness. Section II.A gives an outline of current law, showing how the Ninth Circuit used the Eighth Amendment’s status crime doctrine to bar cities from utilizing what is effectively a loophole in constitutional law. Section II.B examines the arguments made in City of Grants Pass v. Johnson. Section II.C analyzes the Supreme Court’s eventual decision in the case. Section II.D defends the Ninths Circuit’s ruling against the Court’s decision. It takes the stance that the Ninth Circuit’s understanding and application of status crime doctrine fits well within the more collectivist understanding of reality as comprehended by those in other western democracies. Finally, Section II.E calls for a change in popular American ideology that is likely to motivate the Court’s decision and current municipal law. Only a shift away from an individualist and towards a collectivist understanding of society can fuel the political will to change homelessness law.

Homelessness Compared and Explained

This Part uses the lens of American exceptionalism to elucidate homelessness data and policy in the United States, comparing it to other western democracies in order to better understand America’s turn to criminalization as a “solution” to homelessness.

A.A Preliminary Note on Method

This Note takes a relatively unique approach to the study of homelessness law and doctrine. That is, it does not take law as an isolated field that can (or should) be studied on its own, or with a mere dash of policy analysis thrown in at the end. Rather, it sees law as embedded in and determined by social context. Such a strategy, according to some, has been described as “the single most revolutionary development in modern legal thought.”¹⁵ This is not to say that all legal research must consider law this way. Rather, it is to say that doing so is useful and worthwhile, one of many forms that legal analysis and thought can take. Thus, while not all analysis in this Note is directly legal, the consequences of the ideology and governmental policies outlined in this Note are directly legal, manifesting in municipal decisions to criminalize homelessness and court decisions responding thereto. In addition to the strictly legal arguments made below, another contribution of this Note is an analysis of what motivates recent American legal trends. Such an analysis is imperative not only for understanding and evaluating current trends, but also for analyzing the root causes and offering solutions in domains that extend outside of law yet influence law, such as notions about what has to change in popular American political ideology. When legal arguments go hand-in-hand with political arguments, since law is always bound up with politics,¹⁶ they become all the more potent. As such, this Note takes an approach that is interdisciplinary and necessarily so.

The first half of this Note uses the lens of American exceptionalism to help explain homelessness. There are many approaches to the understanding and use of the concept “American exceptionalism.”¹⁷ This Note seeks to add to the body of literature exploring American exceptionalism by examining a previously understudied topic: homelessness and homelessness policy. The Note deploys a method close to that developed by Charles Lockhart in The Roots of American Exceptionalism. That is, it utilizes a schema that draws on historical, institutional, and cultural variables to explain both the nuances of America’s homelessness problem as well as America’s political reaction to homelessness.¹⁸ In doing so, this Note shows certain aspects in which America is exceptional with regard to its stance towards homelessness, which is reflected both in its policy and ideological belief system.

Moreover, placing America in a comparative light helps explain why America’s response has been increasingly punitive. By analyzing recent American history, one can see how criminalizing homelessness fits within larger cultural and structural trends. A comparative understanding of American societal disposition towards economic opportunity in general and homelessness in particular is imperative for understanding why America is making the choice to criminalize homeless people. These trends explain why the Supreme Court chose to reverse the Ninth Circuit’s ruling in Johnson.¹⁹ But first, these underlying trends must be identified, and they are examined below.

B. Homelessness Compared

This Section conducts a brief, international comparison of homelessness rates to see if and how America is unique with regard to its treatment of homeless people. Delving into a data collection that is the first of its kind, this Section shows that while the rate of homelessness in America is not exceptional, the percentage of homeless Americans who are unsheltered is very high relative to other western democracies.

Numerous reasons might lead one to suspect that America has an exceptionally high homelessness rate compared to other western democracies.²⁰ For instance, the United States, even after taxes and monetary transfers, has a very high level of income inequality relative to other western democracies.²¹ Its “Gini Coefficient,” which measures income inequality, ranks higher than Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and most European Union countries.²² Moreover, since the 1980s, the share of income going to the top 10% of earners has consistently increased on an annual basis.²³ While the United States used to have a more egalitarian distribution of income in the early 20th century, this is no longer the case today.²⁴

However, a closer examination of the data²⁵ on homelessness rates from other western democracies reveals that, in this realm, America is unexceptional:

Figure 1. Percentage of Population Homeless by Country

Note: Data assembled by the author. See Appendix infra for methods.

Figure 1 shows the rate of people experiencing homelessness by the percentage of the population of the country in which they reside. Essentially, it is the homelessness rate of each country. As the chart shows, the homelessness rate in the United States is not particularly high compared to other western democracies. Among seventeen other countries where data is available, the United States ranks as having the seventh highest homelessness rate. Its rate almost exactly matches the overall homelessness rate for the European Union.²⁶

But homelessness rates alone do not tell the whole story. Delving deeper into the data, when one examines the percentage of homeless people spending nights unsheltered, one sees a very different picture:

Figure 2. Percentage of Homeless Population Unsheltered by Country

Note: Data assembled by the author. See Appendix infra for methods.

Not all countries included in Figure 1 have data available for the rate of unsheltered homeless people in the studies used. Still, thirteen countries do. Figure 2 shows that the percentage of unsheltered homeless people is far higher in the United States than it is in most other western democracies. Its rate of unsheltered homeless people is 33% higher than the next closest country, New Zealand. It is approximately double the EU average. Of the countries examined, only Czechia has a higher rate. Thus, while the United States does not differ in kind from other western democracies in this respect, it does significantly differ in degree.

As such, although there is not a particularly large number of people experiencing homelessness in the United States relative to other western democracies, the percentage of these people that are unsheltered in the United States is relatively high. This difference is important for both analyzing the problem itself and for understanding how America has reacted to homelessness. If America had a unique level of homelessness, one would seek to explain this phenomenon by examining the root causes of homelessness. However, given that America has an unusually high number of people living outdoors or on the streets, this means that shelter availability is comparatively low in the United States relative to other western democracies.

This specific intervention is important. Homelessness has been hitherto neglected in the debate around American exceptionalism. This is likely because, at first blush as shown above, America does not have an exceptionally high rate of homelessness. Still, there is a popular perception that America does have a much higher homelessness rate than other western democracies.²⁷ The major difference between America and its peers is the rate of shelter availability. Because people (especially in the United States) do not see the level of homelessness in Europe, they think it does not exist.

Therefore, to understand why America is exceptional in the realm of homelessness, the subsequent four Sections of this Note seek to understand America’s response to homelessness rather than homelessness’s causes.

C. The Social Safety Net

The first factor that helps explain why America lacks the homeless shelters that other western democracies have is the relatively weak social safety net its state, local, and federal governments maintain. Seen in this light, America’s lack of homeless shelters is not an isolated fact that sets it apart from other western democracies. Rather, it is part of a larger trend concerning America’s relatively weak social safety net.

In general, American total government expenditure is less, as a proportion of its total GDP, than most other western democracies. In 2019, for example, the U.S. government’s expenditure as a percentage of GDP was 36%, while France’s was 55%, Sweden’s was 48%, the United Kingdom’s was 38%, and New Zealand’s was 39%.²⁸ Although these are only a few examples, there is a general historical trend of the United States’ government being outspent by other western democracies.²⁹ This is in spite of the fact that America wildly outspends those same countries on maintaining its military, accounting for 39% of the world’s military expenditure.³⁰

This difference in government spending is reflected in the provision of a variety of social services. For example, many other western democracies own and operate their railroad and airline systems.³¹ In America, however, the federal government has not made a similar commitment. The same can be said for the operation of utilities. While other western democracies often directly operate means of communication (like telephone lines) or energy distribution (like gas and electricity), the United States has largely left the operation of these basic necessities to the private sector.³² There is thus a more minimal role of government in the coordination of economic activity in America compared to other western democracies.

America’s social safety net is similarly weak. In a wide variety of areas, from mandated maternity leave to child day care to low-income housing, the U.S. government³³ provides comparatively less to its residents than most other western democracies.³⁴ A paradigmatic example of this trend is healthcare. The United States is the only western democracy to not ensure medical insurance coverage for virtually all of its residents.³⁵ This is partially due to the fact that the United States achieves its 90% health care coverage through a patchwork system of private insurers and government programs like Medicare and Medicaid.³⁶ Moreover, the story goes further than simply who is providing the care. The United States has largely left other key elements of the healthcare system to the private sector, such as price-setting. This has also contributed to the United States’ relatively high cost of healthcare.³⁷

In sum, America has a relatively weak social safety net compared to other western democracies. This is intertwined with the fact that the U.S. Constitution does not announce rights in a positive sense. Rather, it accords negative rights. The Constitution’s Bill of Rights consists of private activities that the government will be largely restrained from infringing upon, like the right to freedom of speech, the right to bear arms, and the right against cruel and unusual punishment.³⁸ Commonplace in other western democracies, however, are positive rights. These are rights that promise positive provisions that the government accords its citizens, such as food, shelter, and healthcare.³⁹ While not all of these guarantees are necessarily lived up to by those governments, particularly those of poorer nations, the presence of de jure positive rights nonetheless signals a difference between America and its peers.

Thus, on a structural level, the United States’ relative lack of shelter for people experiencing homelessness fits well in this larger picture. America’s government spending in general and social safety net in particular are far weaker than other western democracies. Even though America’s economic and housing systems have not produced more homeless people, a relative lack of spending in social programs can begin to shed light on why American governments—federal, state, and local—have not been willing to build more shelters for those experiencing homelessness.

But more explanation is needed. America is, after all, a democracy.⁴⁰ Why have Americans refrained from voting to expand their welfare state? Why are they not voting to expand government funding to include the construction of homeless shelters? What explains the gap between America and its peers?

D. Public Opinion and Ideology

To explain America’s relatively weak social safety net in general and its refusal to adequately shelter homeless people in particular, a deeper dive into American ideology and voter belief is necessary.⁴¹ This Section does exactly that, using a variety of public opinion polling as well as the documents of elected officials to show how ideological beliefs around individualism inform American social policy and homelessness policy.

To engage popular ideology, public opinion polling is a useful place to start. Karabel and Laurison summarized a number of useful studies comparing American public opinion to public opinion in a variety of other countries.⁴² Their analysis was enlightening. America was an outlier relative to other western democracies in a variety of ways. Americans were more likely to value freedom over equality than those in other western democracies surveyed.⁴³ More specifically, Americans were more likely to believe that the freedom to pursue life’s goals outweighed the importance of the state guaranteeing that no one is in need.⁴⁴ While the percentage of people favoring this statement was roughly 25% in France and 31% in Germany, it was over 60% in the United States.⁴⁵ Additionally, almost 50% of Americans in one survey thought that “it should not be the responsibility of government to reduce income differences.”⁴⁶ Amongst the other countries included in the survey, only New Zealand scored higher, and did so only by a small margin. The analogous proportion in most other western democracies was far lower. In another poll, the percentage of Americans surveyed who thought that private ownership of business is preferable to government ownership of business was over 60%, higher than any other western democracy surveyed.⁴⁷ The analogous figures for Germany, Australia, and Canada were roughly 38%, 39%, and 52%. Finally, most on the nose, Americans agreed with the statement “it should not be the responsibility of government to provide for the unemployed” at a rate of roughly 49%.⁴⁸ This rate was higher than every other country surveyed, except for New Zealand.

From these surveys, we can conclude that Americans not only value personal freedom more than economic equality at a higher rate than other western democracies, but also that Americans are less willing to endorse government action to assist people in dire economic straits.

Still, the differences run deeper than mere social values and government actions. Americans surveyed also differed in their explanations for the root causes of social realities themselves. For instance, one question asked whether “people are poor because of laziness and lack of willpower” or “poor because of an unfair society.” In America, 62% agreed with the former, the highest proportion of any western democracy surveyed.⁴⁹ While 50% of both New Zealanders and Australians agreed with that statement, the analogous rate for Finland and Germany was 23% and 17%, respectively.⁵⁰ Relatedly, Americans were more likely to believe that their society is meritocratic. For instance, 63% of Americans believed that success is determined by hard work rather than luck and connections, scoring higher than all other western democracies except for Finland.⁵¹ Finally, the United States had the highest rate of disagreement with the statement “success in life is pretty much determined by forces outside our control,” relative to other western democracies.⁵² Almost 70% of Americans disagreed, while most other countries surveyed had disagreement rates of 50% or less.⁵³

Thus, majorities of Americans tend to see poverty not as a social failure, but as a personal one. Moreover, Americans tend to hold these views at much higher rates than most if not all other western democracies.

These attitudes are not only passively held by Americans, but also actively practiced by their elected officials. One can see these ideas made manifest in Paul Ryan’s A Roadmap for America’s Future.⁵⁴ In the proposal, the former Speaker of the House of Representatives meticulously lays out not only policy proposals, but also philosophical and historical rationales for those proposals. These policies largely consist of scaling back levels of spending on the federal government’s social safety net. To justify these rollbacks, he appeals to many of the values outlined above, such as personal freedom and individual responsibility. He justifies his favor of markets and individual freedom by stating that in market-based economies, like America’s, “no individual or family is bound to their circumstances: they can advance, they can improve their conditions, through their own efforts.”⁵⁵

Ryan sees this “freedom” as being threatened by government intrusion into the economy through the expansion of the social safety net. Writing of efforts to expand welfare programs, he writes that “government increasingly dictates how Americans live their lives . . . [b]ut dependency drains individual character, which in turn weakens American society.”⁵⁶ Thus, although Ryan is a partisan actor arguing for particular policy solutions, here he is appealing to broader sentiments that resonate with large majorities of the American public.⁵⁷ The economic failures of individuals are not seen as rooted in structural economic forces. Rather, they are seen as failures of individuals not “bound to their circumstances.’’⁵⁸ Moreover, government action aimed at solving these problems not only fails but exacerbates them. This is in marked contrast to other western democracies, in which even conservative party members do not seek to dismantle welfare state policies.⁵⁹

Government entities, however, are not the only entities that can be used to combat poverty in general and homelessness in particular. Private charity and faith-based organizations can also play a role. The United States has the highest rate of religious belief among western democracies.⁶⁰ Although the religious belief of its residents has been moderately decreasing in recent decades, it remains comparatively strong.⁶¹ Churches are an increasingly used source of housing for homeless shelters.⁶² Some politicians have also voiced support for faith-based solutions to homelessness.⁶³ Given these facts, one might suspect that while Americans may be averse to government-run shelters, they may be more supportive of private, faith-based shelters. The data, however, simply does not support such a view. Faith-based shelters make up only 4% of shelter beds available to homeless people.⁶⁴ Thus, the American ideological emphasis on self-responsibility for one’s economic conditions outweighs both private, charitable responses as well as publicly funded ones.

Of course, many Americans see economically deprived individuals as the products of circumstances and many Europeans view poor individuals as personally responsible for their economic circumstances. America has no monopoly on these views. However, these ideas are substantially more widespread in the United States than in other western democracies. They are also reflected in U.S. government policy. When economically destitute individuals, like Debra Blake, are seen as solely, personally responsible for their situation, it is less likely that people holding those views will favor government policies to help people falling on hard times. This means that government-run shelters are less likely to receive political support. Other western democracies, meanwhile, are more likely to see homelessness as a product of social circumstances and societal failure, and therefore provide shelter.

Seen through this lens, America’s disinclination to build shelters for individuals facing homelessness does not arise through some unique hatred that America has for homeless people, but rather as part of a larger narrative about the way Americans and policy-makers think about poverty and its root causes.

E. Race and Homelessness

Inextricable from an explanation of homelessness in the United States is an account of who experiences homelessness. This Section shows not only the racial disparities of those experiencing homelessness, but also uses those demographics to help explain American homelessness policy and posture.

Obviously, the people who experience homelessness are those in poverty. Along these lines, Black and Latino people are already overrepresented, with roughly 20.1% of Black folks living in poverty in the United States today, despite being only 13.5% of the population.⁶⁵ The respective numbers for Latino folks are 28.4% and 19.3%.⁶⁶ But the numbers are even more exacerbated when it comes to homelessness. While 24.1% of homeless people are Latino, a staggering 37.3% of homeless people identify as Black.⁶⁷ Thus, the intersection of homelessness and race, at least for Black folks, is not merely equivalent to that of poverty and race. Rather, homeless people are disproportionately Black at a rate even more extreme than that of poverty.

We know that the general causation of these gaps in economic wealth, income, and opportunity are due to longstanding racial oppression.⁶⁸ But what effect does the fact that the majority of people sleeping on America’s streets are nonwhite have on our homelessness policy? Although a concrete answer is multifaceted and can probably only be arrived at indirectly, critical race theory can help provide answers. Doing so will help explain why America’s majority-minority homeless population does not receive the same amount of government and public care and attention as other countries.⁶⁹

One book within the discipline of critical race theory that can help explain why the racial makeup of the homeless population likely has an impact on the way homeless people are treated in the United States is Jody Armour’s book, provocatively titled N*gga Theory.⁷⁰ Although the book largely focuses on criminal law, it highlights important developments in both the history of American racism and recent research into white Americans’ relationship with Black Americans in the realm of cognitive science.

One of Armour’s central claims is that “the dominant brand of anti-black discrimination in post-civil rights era America is not active racial animus but unconscious racial bias.”⁷¹ This view leads Armour to locate the disparities in treatment across races not as the result of conscious racial hatred but rather that of unconscious or subconscious behavior of white Americans.

One of the ways this unconscious bias operates is through disparities in empathy for others as manifested in specific “neuroanatomical circuits underlying . . . cognitive processes.”⁷² Specifically, recent studies show that particular parts of the brain, such as the bilateral anterior insula, the anterior cingulate cortex, and the medial prefrontal cortex are active when individuals are feeling empathy, in both the emotional and cognitive realm.⁷³ Functional magnetic resonance imaging (“fMRI”) technology has allowed neuroscientists to measure when humans are and are not feeling empathy towards others. Unsurprisingly, many Americans tested in these studies show decreased empathetic neural activity when viewing people of different racial groups.⁷⁴ This was true, for instance, when twenty-eight participants were shown scenes depicting individuals of varying racial groups in painful or neutral situations.⁷⁵ Upon viewing these images, people who shared a social-racial identity with the person in need exhibited a higher level of empathetic neural activity than they did with those who did not share their ethnic group.⁷⁶ This was despite the fact that many people would not likely claim they have explicit racial bias, since the social consequences of having such a bias are negative.⁷⁷ Other studies involving mirror-neuron systems, which are responsible for unconsciously mirroring other individuals, show a similar level of racial bias.⁷⁸ Thus, there are empathy gaps across racial lines.

Here, it is important to note that these are not inevitable biological responses to inherent human differences. On the contrary, race is not a biological category, but a social one.⁷⁹ Thus, the status of who is “in” and “out” of one’s social group are constantly in flux.⁸⁰ More importantly, the categories are historically contingent, the outcome of social oppression and not biology.⁸¹ It is likely not the supposed differences in look or skin color that is the cause of these empathy-deficits, but rather socially-reinforced differentiation and hierarchies. Thus, America, as a multiracial liberal democracy, does not inherently have these issues of empathy gaps, but rather has them because of its specifically racist past and present, one that had a beginning and therefore (hopefully) has an end.⁸²

Armour eventually goes on to discuss how these empathy barriers contribute to disparities in judge and jury convictions of Black Americans. How do they apply to homelessness? The answer is probably intuitive: in a majority white country⁸³ with politics dominated by white individuals and interests,⁸⁴ a problem that largely affects nonwhite people is likely to be neglected. The fact that most homeless people are mostly not white means that our political system is less likely to respond urgently to the problem. It is a classic case of structural racism. This was true, for instance, of the natural disaster of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, wherein the government responded slower than it could have, an action which many people attributed to the fact that the people most in need were disproportionately Black.⁸⁵ Moreover, in the man-made disaster of the Flint, Michigan water crisis of 2014, the largely Black population of Flint likely suffered more intensely and received a less urgent response from the state due to the demographic of who was suffering.⁸⁶ In each of these catastrophes, it is likely that the empathy deficits that white officials and members of the public exhibited towards the Black victims contributed to the lackadaisical response by government actors. The same can likely be said for homelessness. If homeless people were not members of an oppressed group, it is likely that there would be a more urgent government response to their plight.

Unconscious bias may explain the lack of a response, but why the personal blame? How does the attribution of individual responsibility to those in poverty (a view that is popular in America and described above) intersect with the government’s general unwillingness to provide shelter to homeless people given the racial lens with which we are operating? Armour’s book has even more answers here. In it, he uses the work of Fritz Heider to show how people ascribe moral blame to individuals.⁸⁷ Specifically, when judging others, people who attribute one’s actions to their social circumstances are less likely to morally blame them for those actions than when they see those actions as stemming from an inner psychology.⁸⁸ When people focus on the situations in which others find themselves, they are less likely to morally blame those others for their bad acts. Applying this to the criminal sphere, a study done by Birt Duncan found that “violent acts tended to be attributed to internal causes when the harm-doer was black, but to situational causes when the harm-doer was white.”⁸⁹ Other studies have verified these findings.⁹⁰

If this phenomenon is occurring in the lab and in the courtroom, it is likely also occurring on the streets. In a country where people are already largely blamed for their actions, and the role of social circumstance is neglected, it makes sense that a racially-charged issue like homelessness would exacerbate this phenomenon. Racial minorities are likely being blamed for being homeless even more intensely than their white peers. Indeed, America’s response to homelessness exhibits precisely the kind of response we would expect if this were the case. Racism, individual and structural, is therefore not only responsible for Black people disproportionately becoming homeless, but also for their remaining homeless. The unwillingness to build homeless shelters and the tendency to blame people for the economic circumstances, which is exacerbated by the history of racial oppression and division in the United States, makes America’s response to homelessness much more understandable (though not justifiable). Thus, the empathy deficit and tendency to blame racial minorities—particularly Black folks—for their actions and economic status intensifies America’s lackluster response to homelessness.⁹¹

F. America’s Turn to Criminalization

The above sections explain why a substantial number of Americans likely, to a sizeable extent, blame homeless people for being homeless, but they do not explain why there has been an increasing trend towards criminalization of homelessness.⁹² This Section addresses this issue. Making sense of this trend requires a broader examination of criminal law and policy. Through this analysis, one can see that criminalizing homelessness and imprisoning people like Debra Blake makes sense according to the ideology of self-responsibility and America’s comparatively harsh criminal system.⁹³

The United States has the highest rate of incarceration of any western democracy, and nearly the highest incarceration rate in the world.⁹⁴ America is remarkably punitive in a number of ways. Not only is it the only western democracy to retain capital punishment, but its sentencing structure is also one of the harshest in the world.⁹⁵ This trend is relatively new. Beginning in the early 1970s, an explosion in the prison population—known popularly as “mass incarceration”—made the United States the world leader in imprisonment rates.⁹⁶ America’s recently learned penal instinct for dealing with social problems is more intense than in any other western democracy.

Coupled with this well-known trend is a lesser known but related trend: a proliferation in economic sanctions incorporated into the criminal system. There has been a surge in civil fines, court fines, and other financial penalties levied against individuals since the early 1980s.⁹⁷ Although debtors’ prisons are officially banned in every state, people who are unable to pay a variety of civil or court-imposed fines are being increasingly imprisoned as a result.⁹⁸

While laws directly, explicitly criminalizing homelessness are practically nonexistent, laws that impose fines on homeless people are increasingly being passed around the country.⁹⁹ This is the kind of criminal penalty that Debra Blake was facing. Although the statute she violated by sleeping on public land only resulted in a fine, a repeated violation of the statute, combined with her inability to pay, would have resulted in a jail sentence.¹⁰⁰ She would not have been the only homeless person with such a fate.¹⁰¹ While other countries have laws that criminalize some behavior associated with sleeping on public property,¹⁰² the wider availability of shelters makes those laws far less relevant to homeless people abroad.

The American instinct to not only blame people facing homelessness for their camping in public but also to actively oppose them through criminalization is also part of a larger trend. Violent attacks on homeless people have been on the rise in recent years.¹⁰³ When homelessness is seen by members of the public as a problem of individual responsibility, it makes sense that when one sees individuals taking up space on public streets or parks, they are angry at the individual rather than the socio-economic system that created the situation. The instinct to criminalize such behavior therefore follows from an individualization of the problem combined with an existing propensity for criminalization. If homeless people are solely responsible for their situation, and their situation interferes with a pedestrian’s ability to move about public grounds unimpeded, the justification for imprisonment on the grounds of public interference also begins to make sense. Imprisonment will solve the immediate problem of getting the person off the street and is justified due to that person’s inability to maintain the economic resources necessary to maintain shelter for themselves.

Of course, such a logic is withdrawn from the social realities that actually create homelessness.¹⁰⁴ While experts disagree on the specific means of reducing homelessness, there is a consensus that to do so, one must dramatically increase the supply of affordable housing and connect homeless people with social services and employment opportunities.¹⁰⁵ Unfortunately, for homeless people and housed people, Americans have a long history of not only ignoring expert opinion, but actively loathing expert opinion and intellectualism writ large. As Richard Hofstadter wrote in Anti-Intellectualism in American Life over 50 years ago, “intellectuals . . . are [seen as] pretentious, conceited, effeminate, and snobbish . . . .”¹⁰⁶ America has no monopoly on anti-intellectualism. Nor has anti-intellectualism as a cultural force been constant in its history. Rather, it is one that fluctuates in intensity.¹⁰⁷ Our current time, however, sees a more intense moment of this fluctuation, rendering a penal response to homelessness that deviates from expert opinion even more likely.¹⁰⁸

This hostility towards both homeless people and experts on homelessness can be seen in America’s current populist wave. While a deep analysis on the relationship between homelessness and populism is worthwhile, it extends beyond the scope of this Note. Still, a brief discussion can be given. Jan-Werner Müller defines populism as “a particular moralistic imagination of politics,” one that establishes a “morally pure” people against elites and outsiders.¹⁰⁹ While modern populists have long derided experts as part of the elite outsiders,¹¹⁰ homeless people themselves are increasingly considered outsiders (and paradoxically paired with elites), deviants who are apart from and opposed to “normal” people. For instance, former Fox News host Tucker Carlson recently argued that homelessness is the result of liberal leaders becoming “more lenient on petty crime” and that “because of their liberal attitudes and the mild climate, [Seattle] is a magnet for vagrants.”¹¹¹ Overall, political populism and a history of punitive responses to social problems are worryingly combining to produce laws that criminalize homelessness in spite of expert opinion.

In sum, America’s penal response to homelessness stems from both its conception of homelessness as a problem of individual failings combined with its comparatively harsh penal system. As a result, homelessness has become a hot-button political issue, one for which populists have whipped up anti-elite sentiment and anger about homelessness to create false narratives about homelessness and advocate punitive solutions thereto.

Homelessness and the Law

Now that an overview of homelessness, in both a comparative and historic-domestic light, has been given, we can return to an analysis of Debra Blake’s case and use it as a microcosm to understand and evaluate homelessness law in general. This Part, divided into several sections, outlines law concerning homelessness, both before and after the Court’s ruling in Grants Pass. Next, this Part argues that America needs a fundamental reckoning on not only the legal level, but also the ideological and social level. Only once our attitudes towards homeless people change from an individualist understanding to a collectivist understanding can our laws change to reflect that understanding. Absent such a deep reckoning, political and legal responses reflecting such a change are virtually impossible.

A. Law Prior to Grants Pass

Although Debra Blake passed away, the case she and her fellow residents filed, City of Grants Pass v. Johnson, did not. This Section outlines the case law surrounding Blake’s claim.

In 1962, the Supreme Court decided Robinson v. California. In Robinson, the Court struck down as unconstitutional part of a California statute that made it illegal “to be addicted to the use of narcotics.”¹¹² The Court reasoned that while it was within California’s power to regulate behavior surrounding and including the use of drugs, criminalizing someone for their status of being addicted to illegal drugs was fundamentally different. In doing so, California was enforcing a “statute which makes the ‘status’ of narcotic addiction a criminal offense.”¹¹³ Rather than criminalizing an action, the status of being addicted to an illegal narcotic was criminalized. The Court likened addiction to a chronic disease, one over which the defendant had little to no control.¹¹⁴ The Court reasoned that “in the light of contemporary human knowledge, a law which made a criminal offense of such a disease would doubtless be universally thought to be an infliction of cruel and unusual punishment in violation of the Eighth and Fourteenth Amendments.”¹¹⁵ This ruling established what became popularly known as the Eighth Amendment’s ban on “status crimes.”

Six years after Robinson, however, this doctrine was complicated by a case titled Powell v. Texas.¹¹⁶ The case concerned whether or not the state of Texas could criminalize being found drunk “in any public place, or at any private house except his own.”¹¹⁷ The petitioners argued that the statute violated the Eighth Amendment’s ban on status crimes since an alcoholic would have to drink, and would therefore inevitably violate the statute. The Powell Court distinguished the Texas statute from California’s statute in Robinson, however, in a number of ways. While certain parts of the decision argued that being drunk was an act rather than a status,¹¹⁸ other parts highlighted the fact that alcoholic individuals could choose to be drunk in their homes and therefore avoid violating the statute while maintaining their status as alcoholics.¹¹⁹ In a 4 plus 1 plurality, the Powell Court upheld the statute. Although the precedential impact of this decision was disputed,¹²⁰ it is affirmed in the Supreme Court’s decision in City of Grants Pass.

In 2006, a Ninth Circuit ruling found that the Constitution’s ban on status crimes covered homeless individuals. In Jones v. City of Los Angeles, six homeless individuals brought suit against the city of Los Angeles for an ordinance that criminalized “sitting, lying, or sleeping on public streets and sidewalks at all times and in all places.”¹²¹ The Ninth Circuit ruled that the City could neither criminalize the status of being homeless, nor acts that are an inevitable result of being homeless.¹²² The Court linked the status of being homeless to the number of shelter beds available. If the number of homeless people in a municipality “far exceed[ed]” the number of shelter beds available at any given time, the municipality will have violated the homeless individuals’ Eighth Amendment rights by enforcing a statute that criminalizes an integral aspect of their status as homeless people.¹²³ Although this specific ruling was later vacated on technical grounds, its logic and holdings were reincorporated into law for the Ninth Circuit in 2019, in Martin v. City of Boise.¹²⁴ While these holdings were not binding outside of the Ninth Circuit, they are highly relevant, as many states within the Ninth Circuit, like California, Hawaii, Arizona, and Oregon, have some of the highest rates of homelessness in the nation.¹²⁵

B. City of Grants Pass Heads to the Supreme Court

Before Martin, the City of Grants Pass enforced ordinances that fined individuals for sleeping on public grounds.¹²⁶ Although the city modified these ordinances in the aftermath of Martin, it did not repeal them. Rather, it tweaked them to only ban “camping,” which it broadly defined as sleeping while using even rudimentary assistance, like sleeping bags.¹²⁷ Still, after Debra Blake was cited for sleeping while using a sleeping bag on public property in 2019, she filed a class action lawsuit on behalf of all homeless people in Grants Pass, arguing that the city’s ordinance constituted a violation of her Eighth Amendment rights.¹²⁸ The Ninth Circuit agreed, since Grants Pass did not have enough shelter beds to house the homeless population within city limits.¹²⁹ Although the ordinance did not directly criminalize camping, mandating only civil fines, the Ninth Circuit panel found that these fines would still lead to criminal prosecution when they were inevitably unpaid by the homeless people fined.¹³⁰ Furthermore, although one could still “sleep” on public property, sleeping outside in Grants Pass, Oregon, where temperatures regularly dip into the 30s,¹³¹ surely constituted an untenable option. To sleep outside with the assistance of a blanket was the only option for the city’s homeless residents. Thus, the ordinance was struck down as violating the plaintiffs’ Eighth Amendment rights.¹³²

This ruling seemed like a hopeful victory for homelessness advocates, one that put a check on the trend of criminalizing homelessness. But the city appealed the case to the Supreme Court, who in 2024 announced their decision overturning the Ninth Circuit’s ruling to allow municipalities to criminalize homelessness.¹³³

C. The Supreme Court’s Ruling

In a decision that made headlines nationwide in June of 2024,¹³⁴ the Supreme Court reversed the Ninth Circuit’s decision and allowed Grants Pass to enforce its ordinance. Justice Gorsuch authored the opinion and was joined by the Court’s five other conservative Justices. The Court’s three liberals, meanwhile, dissented in an opinion written by Justice Sotomayor. Although the Court split along ideological lines in the decision, the decision was celebrated by conservative and liberal lawmakers alike.¹³⁵ This Section provides an overview of the opinion.

The Court’s decision does not explicitly argue that homelessness is the fault of the individual and therefore subject to criminal liability. Rather, it is implied. Moreover, personal responsibility for homelessness is the result of the Court’s logic. Nonetheless, it is still worth examining the Court’s reasoning in detail. The policy arguments are analyzed first, then the more strictly doctrinal arguments.

Almost cynically, the Court, largely parroting amicus curiae briefs submitted on behalf of Grants Pass, frames the policy criminalizing sleeping in public as one “protecting the rights, dignity[,] and private property of the homeless.”¹³⁶ The decision to ban sleeping in public, by the opinion’s logic, has as much to do with protecting homeless people as it does with serving the interests of the housed public.¹³⁷ The Court also highlights that others (with whom it is siding) have concluded that “[j]ust building more shelter beds and public housing options is almost certainly not the answer by itself.”¹³⁸ Rather, the Court concludes in its first section, after laying out the severity of America’s homelessness problem, that municipalities need “access to the full panoply of tools in the policy toolbox” to combat the issue.¹³⁹

What is odd about this abstract characterization of the problem is that it sees the Ninth Circuit’s ruling as limiting the options that municipalities have to combat the issue. But the ruling does not ban cities from criminalizing homelessness outright. Rather, it limits municipalities from doing so when the number of homeless people exceeds the number of shelter beds. All cities would have to do is build homeless shelters. They could then criminalize sleeping in public as much as they want. This argument is only engaged with indirectly by the Court. Rather than engaging with it substantively, the opinion argues that the standard is somehow not clear enough, since it may be difficult to count the number of homeless people on any given night and because it may be difficult for cities to estimate the number of shelter beds available and build adequate housing.¹⁴⁰ All the analysis really shows, however, is that many cities have not made good-faith efforts to comply with the ruling. Rather, cities have routinely crafted threadbare policies to “comply” in appearance only with the requirements set forth in Boise, then been challenged in court when their policies are shown for what they are, then complained to the courts that the standards are unworkable using their own ineptitude as the evidence. Thus, the Court uses the city governments’ incompetence to justify overturning the Ninth Circuit’s precedent. The logic does not acknowledge the agency of the cities and locates the failure as a lack of possibility rather than a lack of will. In reality, it is not the former, but rather the latter.¹⁴¹

Doctrinally, the Court all but overturns Robinson. The Court states clearly that “[t]he Cruel and Unusual Punishments Clause focuses on the question what ‘method or kind of punishment’ a government may impose after a criminal conviction, not on the question whether a government may criminalize particular behavior in the first place or how it may go about securing a conviction for that offense.”¹⁴² This language leaves no room for Robinson, since that ruling did place substantive limits on what could be punished. The Court states that it does not overrule Robinson because no party argued for it to do so.¹⁴³ Instead, it emphasizes that Grants Pass’s ordinance nominally criminalizes the act of camping rather than the act of being homeless. Responding to the argument that those acts inevitably follow from a status, the Court relies on the plurality in Powell, not discussing the argument that being intoxicated in public as an alcoholic is more voluntary than sleeping outside as a homeless person.¹⁴⁴ The Court gives brief mention of a possible common law “necessity” defense, but does not enforce it against Grants Pass and cites a case in which an Oregon appellate court appears to refuse to apply it to the homeless person cited.¹⁴⁵ Finally, the Court argues that there is no limiting principle that would restrict the conduct possibly off limits from punishment, arguing that the decision is better left to the legislature.¹⁴⁶ Given this, laws that criminalize acts that inevitably follow from a status are constitutional under the Court’s standard.¹⁴⁷ The decision reduces the power of Robinson to a mere linguistic limitation. As long as the government body does not explicitly criminalize a status, it is practically free to do so by punishing an act inevitably flowing from a status.

D. What Should the Court Have Done?

This Section devotes some time to defending the logic of the Ninth Circuit’s ruling and engaging critics who have spoken out against the ruling.

While many in the activist community and some in the legal community have already defended the Ninth Circuit’s logic,¹⁴⁸ many more in the legal academy have criticized it.¹⁴⁹ To defend many of the justifications already set forth above, the Ninth Circuit’s logic makes sense. If it is unconstitutional to punish someone for their “state of being,” something that does not have an actus reus and cannot be controlled by the individual in question, how can one criminalize acts that inevitably flow from one’s state of being? Being homeless, as the Ninth Circuit said in Jones, is no more in one’s control than being addicted to narcotics.¹⁵⁰ Moreover, even though Los Angeles attempted to ban “sleeping” on public property, which is an act rather than a status, the court’s logic was that to ban an act that inevitably follows from a status would be to offer a gaping loophole in status crime doctrine.¹⁵¹ It would allow the government, through a simple workaround, to criminalize statuses just as they had in Robinson. The law can and should hold accountable people who commit acts over which they have control, not acts that they are forced to do out of circumstance. Here, Justice White, in his concurrence in Powell, put the reasoning best:

If it cannot be a crime to have an irresistible compulsion to use narcotics, I do not see how it can constitutionally be a crime to yield to such a compulsion. Punishing an addict for using drugs convicts for addiction under a different name. Distinguishing between the two crimes is like forbidding criminal conviction for being sick with flu or epilepsy but permitting punishment for running a fever or having a convulsion. Unless Robinson is to be abandoned, the use of narcotics by an addict must be beyond the reach of the criminal law.¹⁵²

The same goes for homelessness. If it is unconstitutional to explicitly punish the status of “being homeless,” it should also be unconstitutional to punish acts that inevitably follow from being homeless, like sleeping on the street with a blanket in Oregon.

Moreover, it practically goes without saying that a prison sentence for homelessness will likely be short and will not solve the root causes of homelessness in the first place.¹⁵³ It will merely create a cycle of imprisonment and release that will only intensify and worsen the already terrible experience of homelessness.¹⁵⁴

Other legal scholars, like Martin Gardner, have argued that the logic of five Justices in Powell, and their logical descendants in Jones, apply a logic that would implode the entire criminal justice system.¹⁵⁵ Gardner argues that courts inquiring into the social circumstances of individuals who commit certain acts to determine whether or not they have the proper mens rea for violating a statute “is unwise and poses a radical threat to traditional criminal law doctrine that perhaps even threatens the continued existence of the criminal law itself.”¹⁵⁶ Such hand-wringing is likely unwarranted. Realistically, it is hard to imagine the doctrine of banning status crimes and statutes that indirectly criminalize statuses as going much further than narcotics addiction, homelessness, and perhaps some immigration status issues. Indeed, Gardner himself is light on examples.¹⁵⁷ Thus, a worry that criminal law in general faces a “radical threat” from Robinson and its progeny is likely undue.

But, for a moment, let us assume Gardner is correct, and that the logic of Robinson, Powell, and Jones, which begin to consider the social circumstances that affect the human agency of individuals who commit crimes, does begin to question the underlying premises of criminal law. Below, this Note will take the view that the aforementioned European view of human nature and decision-making is the more accurate one than the hyper-individualistic American view. Considering that view with specific regard to this case, this Note asks: why not? If people accept the underlying logic of Robinson, why not “carry things to their logical conclusion”¹⁵⁸ and begin to inquire into the social circumstances of criminals? It seems that Gardner, like the majority in McCleskey v. Kemp according to Justice Brennan, is simply afraid of “too much justice.”¹⁵⁹

From a more abstract standpoint, the status crime doctrine juxtaposed to the traditional schema for construing criminal law through actus reus and mens rea can be understood as a counter-principle juxtaposed to a principle. That is, while in current law the counter-principle takes up a minority space relative to the space occupied by the general principle, this Note argues in the general spirit of critical legal studies that there should be an inversion between the two.¹⁶⁰ That is, the status crime doctrine could be the central principle from which courts begin their analysis, while the classical view could take the minority, exceptional position.

Finally, as elaborated on below, extending the status crime doctrine to include homeless individuals better reflects the reality of their circumstances. Homelessness is a status, and sleeping on the street is an inevitable act that follows from that status. Legally acknowledging this reality not only offers protections to homeless people, but also narrows the legislative path to policies that actually address the root causes of homelessness.

Although Gardner concedes that such a reconsideration might be warranted, he argues that it must come from the legislative process rather than through courts.¹⁶¹ While there is some merit to this argument, other movements for social change have seen courts play a pivotal role in leading the way, like Brown v. Board of Education, which was responsible for ending the policy of separate but equal across the United States.¹⁶² Furthermore, others have argued that dramatic changes that moderate or curtail criminal punishment are far more likely to come from political elites (even democratically elected ones) than through mass movements or popular referenda.¹⁶³ Thus, the mere fact that courts would be responsible for such a change is not enough to object to the possibility of such change where an alternative route is not possible or highly unlikely to yield results.¹⁶⁴

One aspect of the doctrine that Gardner is correct to criticize is the status crime doctrine’s placement in the Eighth Amendment. Indeed, the Eighth Amendment was originally intended only to curtail certain methods of punishments, rather than impose substantive limits on what could be punished.¹⁶⁵ While originalism is a deeply flawed and unwise approach to constitutional law,¹⁶⁶ the original intent of an amendment should probably carry some weight. As such, Gardner thinks that the status crime doctrine should be constitutionally grounded in the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause rather than in the Eighth Amendment.¹⁶⁷ Indeed, Robinson is the only case that has imposed substantive limits on what can be punished under the Eighth Amendment.¹⁶⁸ This Note agrees that a Fourteenth Amendment grounding is the superior place to couch the status crime doctrine. Still, this Note does not agree with Gardner that doing so would necessarily limit the logical and doctrinal consequences of Robinson, nor should it. The same arguments will inevitably be made no matter where in the Constitution status crime doctrine is placed.

In sum, the Court should have upheld the Ninth Circuit’s decision and not allowed municipalities a cheap workaround to avoid status crime doctrine. In doing so, the Court has solidified and given legal sanction to the nation’s increasing trend of criminalizing homelessness.

E. A Change in Ideology Must Now Precede a Change in Law

Now that the Court has delivered its ruling and allowed the criminalization of homelessness, a change in popular ideology and legislative posture must now precede any novel constitutional argument or policy proposals to tackle homelessness. Essentially, popular consciousness must change and precede any future change in legality in this domain. Ultimately, this Note takes the view that the European conceptualization of economic conditions in general, and homelessness in particular, better recognizes reality. People are products of their environment.¹⁶⁹ Luck plays a role not only in the situations into which people are thrown, but also the decisions they end up making in those situations.¹⁷⁰ Once more Americans begin to agree with the statement “people are poor because of an unfair society” than “people are poor because of laziness and lack of willpower,” homelessness policy can turn away from its increasingly penal tendencies and towards building shelters and restructuring economic relations. While the Ninth Circuit’s ruling was imperfect in that it did not explicitly guarantee minimum requirements of safety and standards for homeless shelters,¹⁷¹ it acknowledged that homelessness is a “status” akin to drug addiction—one that is dependent on social circumstances and not controllable predominantly by the individual. Thus, the Ninth Circuit’s ruling already contains in it the ideological shift required by the rest of the country for combatting homelessness. But absent a larger, popular recognition of the principle, our law is unlikely to reflect such a principle.

Many specific policies for ending homelessness do already exist.¹⁷² Moreover, legal arguments, like the ones outlined above and ignored by the Court, also already exist. But all of these are moot absent a shift in popular consciousness away from individualism and towards collectivism.

Conclusion

The Supreme Court decision reversing the Ninth Circuit’s ruling in Johnson is the culmination of long-standing trends of the individualization of societal problems. While America’s homelessness rate is not particularly high relative to other western democracies, its rate of unsheltered homeless people is. This is explained by America’s comparative unwillingness to spend as much as other western democracies on its social safety net. But it is also more fundamentally the product of broadly and deeply held beliefs about the root causes of poverty and homelessness as problems of individual rather than societal failure, beliefs that are exacerbated by structural racism.

The Ninth Circuit’s interpretation of the Constitution’s status crime doctrine makes sense in this light, since it accurately and shrewdly closed a loophole that governments could use to circumvent status crime doctrine. Nonetheless, the Court reversed the ruling and allowed municipalities to criminalize homelessness. The Court’s ruling effectively legitimized the view that homelessness is an individual “failing” like murder and allowed cities to criminalize people like Debra Blake. This Note has argued not only that such a ruling is misguided, but also that it rests on a fundamentally flawed view of how individuals and society interact. America’s legal approach to homelessness must see it as a social problem rather than a problem arising from a set of atomized individuals. The Supreme Court, however, has taken the opposite view. Seen through the lens of American exceptionalism, it is an exceptionally American response to further allow the criminalization of homelessness.

Appendix

Unable to find a previously published report comparing international homelessness rates, the author assembled this data using a variety of sources. This the first known assemblage of such data and should help contribute to future research in the realm of comparative politics and sociology. For Europe and the U.K., the source used is Fédération Européenne d’Associations Nationales Travaillant avec les Sans-Abri (“FEANTSA”)’s 2023 report titled Eighth Overview of Housing Exclusion.¹⁷³ For America, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development’s report titled The 2022 Annual Homelessness Assessment Report (AHAR) to Congress is used.¹⁷⁴ For Canada, the report used is the Government of Canada’s “Everyone Counts 2020-2022” survey.¹⁷⁵ For Australia, see the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare’s data on homelessness and homelessness services.¹⁷⁶ For New Zealand, see the New Zealand Ministry of Housing and Urban Development, Homelessness Outlook report.¹⁷⁷ These reports consist of the most recent available data for each respective country.

Each study qualifies that their methods are imperfect and likely undercount the number of homeless people. The point of this Note is not to be the authoritative comparative source on national homelessness rates, since the data is constantly changing and not always reliable, but rather to generally observe that America has a higher rate of unsheltered homeless people than all western democracies analyzed but one, a limited claim which is justified despite some uncertainty in the data. Furthermore, this Note is meant to offer a starting point for future research on the subject, as homelessness is in flux in both the United States and in Europe.

For the population counts, this Note used the following reports: For Europe, see the same FEANTSA report referenced above.¹⁷⁸ For the United States, see the 2022 Census Bureau Data.¹⁷⁹ For Canada, see 2021 Canadian Census data.¹⁸⁰ For Australia, see the Australian Bureau of Statistics.¹⁸¹ For New Zealand, see the New Zealand Government “Stats.”¹⁸²

It is important to note, however, that various countries define homelessness differently. For instance, New Zealand counts as “homeless” people who are staying with relatives temporarily,¹⁸³ while the United States and other countries do not count this group.¹⁸⁴ Thus, in order to ensure that the proper, equivalent numbers are being compared, the data selected from each of the above sources is limited to people falling into one of three categories: (1) people “sleeping rough,” generally outdoors, (2) people sleeping in various forms of short-term emergency housing, and (3) people spending nights in designated homeless shelters. Thus, for the European data, the data from categories one, two, and three from the European Typology of Homelessness and Housing Exclusion (“ETHOS”) is used.¹⁸⁵ For the U.S. data, no special selection is required. For the Canadian data, “sheltered” and “unsheltered” people are counted.¹⁸⁶ For Australia, the categories of “[p]eople temporarily staying with other households” and “[p]eople living in ‘severely’ crowded dwellings” are excluded.¹⁸⁷ For New Zealand, the number of total homeless people is limited to people “[w]ithout shelter” and to those living in “[t]emporary accommodation,” since including the other categories would have been overinclusive.¹⁸⁸

Compiling the data from the preceding sources yields the following chart:

Figure 1. Percentage of Population Homeless by Country

The table with the raw numbers is included at the end of this Appendix for reference. For the second round of comparisons, which compared countries’ homelessness rate relative to shelter available, the following method of calculation was used. The number of people living without shelter was divided by the number of homeless people using the above methods for determining the number of homeless people. Thus, for the European data, ETHOS category 1 was used.¹⁸⁹ For the United States, the “unsheltered” category was used.¹⁹⁰ For Canada, the “[u]nsheltered” category was used.¹⁹¹ For Australia, the “[p]eople living in improvised dwellings, tents, or sleeping out (rough sleepers)” category was used.¹⁹² For New Zealand, the “[w]ithout shelter” category was used.¹⁹³ The data yields the following chart:

Figure 2. Percentage of Homeless Population Unsheltered by Country

It should be noted that not all countries, particularly in the FEANTSA report, had specific data for the number of people sheltered versus unsheltered. Five countries were unable to be included, therefore, in Figure 2: Finland, France, Ireland, Luxembourg, and Sweden. For the specific numerical breakdown of each category, a chart of the collected data is pasted below. Each number in the chart was collected using the methodology outlined above, and each chart is compiled using this data:

Table 1. Homelessness Data by Country
Country	Homeless Count	National Population	% of Population	Homeless Unsheltered	% of Homeless Population Unsheltered
Belgium	6,700	11,554,767	0.058	1,187	17.71641791
Czechia	19,653	10,649,800	0.185	8,892	45.24500076
Denmark	3,738	5,873,420	0.064	535	14.31246656
Finland	794	5,548,241	0.014	N/A	. . .
France	209,074	67,656,682	0.309	N/A	. . .
Germany	210,612	83,237,124	0.253	32,467	15.41555087
Hungary	6,944	9,689,010	0.072	1,649	23.74711982
Ireland	11,632	5,060,005	0.230	N/A	. . .
Luxembourg	420	590,667	0.071	N/A	. . .
Poland	23,812	37,972,812	0.063	2,551	10.71308584
Portugal	9,604	10,298,252	0.093	N/A	. . .
Spain	16,006	47,432,805	0.034	4,508	28.16443834
Sweden	14,065	9,995,153	0.141	990	7.0387487
EU Rate (FEANTSA)	533,054	305,558,738	0.174	N/A	. . .
United States	582,462	333,287,557	0.175	233,832	40.14545155
United Kingdom	86,288	66,796,807	0.129	17,012	19.71537178
Canada	20,000	36,991,981	0.054	5,000	25.0
Australia	58,002	25,760,867	0.220	7,636	13.165063
New Zealand	11,553	4,900,600	0.230	3,624	31.3684757

Note: Data used to produce Figures 1 and 2.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 761

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Jacob Schwessinger*

*Articles Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 98; J.D. Candidate 2025, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; M.A. 2021, University of Warwick; B.A. 2020, University of Southern California.

Wage Theft in Los Angeles: Evaluating the Deputization of Worker Centers as an Enforcement Measure

April 2025April 2025Kalysa To*

In 2023, Los Angeles County was called the “wage theft capital of the nation,” with up to $28 million stolen from workers every week. This form of theft especially places low-income workers at risk; 80% of low-wage Los Angeles County workers reportedly experience wage theft. In spite of this vast problem, however, government agencies tasked with the enforcement of wage theft have been overworked and underfunded. The under-resourcing of government agencies results in short-staffed labor offices, prolonging the time it takes to resolve wage theft claims and increasing the likelihood that victims of wage theft either drop their claim or fail to raise a claim at all.

To address this problem in Los Angeles City, deputization by the Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards could extend authority to worker centers—community-based workers’ rights organizations—to support the enforcement of wage theft. The Los Angeles Municipal Code could grant worker centers the power to advise workers on their rights, inspect employer records for wage violations, and ultimately expand the enforcement of the issue and thereby reduce wage theft. This Note provides the first analysis of deputization within this space and at this depth, introducing new legal analysis and proposing a new enforcement tool with which to address the massive issue of wage theft.

This Note argues that the deputization of worker centers fits within Los Angeles’s existing statutory framework and would be a constitutional delegation of the legislature’s power under the California Constitution. In so doing, this Note makes recommendations to bolster the constitutionality of the deputization of worker centers by the Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards so that more resources can be put in place to reduce the rampant wage theft problem throughout the city.

Introduction

Wage theft is a pervasive problem in the United States, affecting over two million workers¹ and costing as much as $50 billion in lost wages each year.² Wage theft is one of the most common crimes committed in the United States,³ with employers stealing more wages from workers each year than is stolen in “bank robberies, convenience store robberies, street and highway robberies, and gas station robberies combined.”⁴ A “form of fraud” that “occurs when employers do not pay their workers” what they are legally entitled to, wage theft encompasses a broad range of employers’ activities that deprive workers of earned compensation.⁵ Victims of wage theft include workers who are (1) paid less than the legally mandated minimum wage (affecting almost two million workers in the United States),⁶ (2) misclassified as “independent contractors” and not provided with the legal rights employees are entitled to,⁷ or (3) not properly paid for overtime or provided with meal breaks.⁸

The problem is particularly prevalent in Los Angeles. In 2023, the Los Angeles Worker Center Network called Los Angeles the “wage theft capital of the nation,” with $26 to $28 million stolen from workers every week in Los Angeles County.⁹ The study also found that workers who stand up for their rights against wage theft place themselves at risk of retaliation, facing consequences such as “reduced hours, increased workload, firing and threats of deportation.”¹⁰ In addition, a 2024 report found that the Los Angeles metropolitan area lost an average of $1.6 to $2.5 billion a year between 2014 and 2023 through minimum wage violations alone,¹¹ and that over 7% of workers were paid below California’s state minimum wage.¹²

Recent findings about the prevalence of wage theft in Los Angeles have led lawmakers to introduce new legislation to ameliorate the problem.¹³ In April 2024, California’s Labor Commissioner’s Office created the Workers’ Rights Enforcement Grant to provide a new funding source targeted at deterring wage theft and other workplace exploitations.¹⁴ The Workers’ Rights Enforcement Grant awards grants to California public prosecutors to “develop and implement a wage theft enforcement program.”¹⁵ The grants are to be used to fund staff salaries and benefits; $8,550,000 was awarded during the first grant cycle in 2024–2025 and another $8,550,000 will be awarded between 2025–2026, with a maximum grant of $750,000 per applicant.¹⁶

While there have been recent laws targeting wage theft, laws aimed at remedying this issue have been in existence for several years. Various administrative agencies are tasked with the enforcement of employment laws, including determining whether workers are being paid the legally mandated minimum wage, whether employees are properly compensated for overtime worked, and whether employers have violated other employment laws. On the federal level, the Department of Labor’s Wage and Hour Division monitors the enforcement of laws including the federal minimum wage.¹⁷ On the state level, California’s Labor Commissioner’s Office (known formally as the Division of Labor Standards Enforcement) combats wage theft and protects workers from retaliation.¹⁸ On the local level, some cities have established agencies that enforce local laws and ordinances. Within the city of Los Angeles, the Office of Wage Standards “is responsible for implementing and administering the guidelines of the Los Angeles Minimum Wage and Minimum Wage Enforcement Ordinances.”¹⁹

However, agencies tasked with the enforcement of employment and labor laws have been “chronically” underfunded.²⁰ A 2018 report by Politico found that, in fifteen states, 41% of lost wages were unrecovered.²¹ This underenforcement comes even as employers’ violations of these laws grow rampant. A 2021 report published by the nonprofit advocacy group National Employment Law Project found that, in 2019 alone, workers earning less than $13 an hour were prevented from recovering over $9.27 billion in stolen wages because of employer-forced arbitration.²² In spite of this, the nonpartisan Economic Policy Institute (“EPI”) found that, between 2017 and 2020, only “$3.24 billion in stolen wages was recovered for workers” nationwide.²³ The underenforcement of minimum wage laws is a problem in California, where workers were owed $280 million in unrecovered claims from unpaid wages in 2017.²⁴ And these claims arise only when workers report these wage theft violations; underenforcement of these laws may mean there are a great number of workers who suffer wage theft but either choose not to report a violation or are not sufficiently informed of their rights to be aware that a violation has occurred.²⁵

The inefficiency of agencies enforcing wage theft has also become apparent in recent years. A report by the California Legislative Analyst’s Office found that, although state law requires wage claims to be adjudicated within 120 days, the average claim took nearly 400 days to be adjudicated in 2018.²⁶ These long wait times disadvantage victims of wage theft by discouraging affected workers from filing claims, increasing the likelihood that the worker will drop their claim before resolution, and potentially compelling workers “to settle their claims for smaller amounts.”²⁷

Wage theft has far-reaching and pernicious effects. Wage theft can cause economic insecurity by introducing financial uncertainty and causing workers to fear the repercussions of speaking up.²⁸ In addition, a 2014 study from a nonprofit public health organization found that wage theft reduces the income that is necessary to provide for an employee’s family, which gives way to downstream effects: employees’ children are “less likely to succeed in school,” and workers’ increased stress causes them to feel more anxious and experience poor mental and socioemotional health.²⁹ Wage theft also has effects on society at large, such as creating unfair competition with businesses that do comply with the law, increasing the need for safety-net and welfare programs, and “reducing needed tax revenues.”³⁰

Given the seriousness of wage theft and the inadequacy of its current enforcement, deputization offers a solution. Deputization would endow private citizens with the authority extended to governmental wage theft authorities. The rights granted to private citizens could vary widely, ranging from entering work sites and advising workers of their rights to accessing employer records to inspect wage violations. However, more rigorous embracing of deputization would lead to more momentum for addressing the enforcement of wage and hour law and decreasing the instances of wage theft suffered by workers.

I. Deputization

Despite the enormity of the wage theft problem in the U.S., the enforcement and containment of the issue is limited. Victims of wage theft currently have a few potential avenues of recourse: (1) file a complaint with the relevant federal, state, or local labor agency;³¹ (2) file a private lawsuit under the federal Fair Labor Standards Act (“FLSA”); (3) file a private lawsuit under state or local wage and hour standards; or (4) do all three.³² Filing a private lawsuit is burdensome and sometimes out of the question for low-income and marginalized workers (whom wage theft disproportionately affects and who may face difficulty finding attorneys interested in taking low-dollar cases).³³

However, leaving the enforcement of wage theft up to the designated government entities is not a solution either—most state and local governments lack sufficient resources to investigate and enforce workplace standards.³⁴ In recent years, the California Labor Commissioner’s office has reportedly been “too short-staffed to do its job,” an issue that was exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic and resulting labor shortage.³⁵ In 2023, employees at the California Labor Commissioner’s office cited a 30%–40% vacancy rate in the office and reported that these vacancies caused employee burnout, stress, lowered morale, and sometimes the decision to leave the office altogether.³⁶ A high vacancy rate, overworked staff, and the resulting “exodus of talented workers” result in an office that is poorly equipped to handle the sheer volume of wage theft claims.³⁷

One way to address this problem is to deputize private citizens to provide them with the same authorizations that a governmental entity is granted under relevant statutes. Deputized citizens could help the agency more effectively use its authority to enforce the laws among a greater number of affected employers and employees. In particular, private citizens may be deputized to investigate wage theft such that they could enter worksites, speak with employees, and inspect employer records. Sharing the responsibilities of wage theft enforcement with private citizens would reduce the workload of government employees, allowing them to focus their resources on the other stages of resolving a wage theft claim, such as settlements, hearings, and recommendations.

A. What Is Deputization?

Deputization occurs when a principal party “empowers an agent” (“deputizes” the agent) to perform some agreed-upon function,³⁸ authorizing the agent to act on the principal’s behalf in limited ways.³⁹ Throughout history, deputization has taken many forms and currently exists in many different contexts.⁴⁰ The judiciary has engaged in deputization; as early as the 19th century, federal courts deputized employer-hired private security personnel to enforce federal injunctions against striking workers.⁴¹ Today, the deputization of private attorneys by local prosecutorial agencies to head criminal prosecutions is still common.⁴² The federal government has also deputized state and local officials to enforce laws; for instance, the legislature authorizes state and local law enforcement agencies to perform immigration law enforcement functions through the Immigration and Naturalization Act.⁴³

In addition to deputization of government officials, existing examples of deputization also involve private individuals. The Private Attorneys General Act (“PAGA”) is a model of deputization which gives authority to private citizens under California law,⁴⁴ meaning that an official government entity is not needed to litigate these violations. This statute “deputizes” private citizens by “authoriz[ing] aggrieved employees to file lawsuits to recover civil penalties on behalf of the State of California for Labor Code violations.”⁴⁵ PAGA was passed in response to deficiencies in the state’s ability to “effectively investigate and prosecute” labor law abuses,⁴⁶ especially as there was an increasing “disparity between California’s large labor force” and the “finite” resources of California’s enforcement agencies.⁴⁷ The statute essentially deputizes private citizens to “step into the shoes” of the state and prosecute employers’ statutory labor violations.⁴⁸ In allowing private citizens to act as “attorneys general,” PAGA enables these private citizens to “recover civil penalties for Labor Code violations” committed against them, with the official enforcement agencies retaining “primacy” over the private enforcement efforts.⁴⁹ PAGA has been successful in recovering the stolen wages of employees, collecting “more than $88 million from lawbreaking corporations in 2019.”⁵⁰

Despite PAGA’s achievements and enforcement measures against lawbreaking corporations, PAGA has a large shortcoming: it only allows employees who have experienced or are experiencing the alleged Labor Code violation to bring the action. Aggrieved employees must bring actions “on behalf of the employee and other current or former employees.”⁵¹ Although PAGA permits employees to bring suit on behalf of other employees and form a class action–like group of employees as plaintiffs,⁵² many of these cases have been called “unmanageable” by courts when there are “a large number of allegedly aggrieved individuals who would require a multitude of individual assessments to prove liability.”⁵³ To proceed on the case following an “unmanageability” ruling by the court, the plaintiff must demonstrate liability of thousands of individually aggrieved employees,⁵⁴ which poses an immense obstacle for plaintiffs.

In addition to the barriers employees face when attempting to file PAGA suits, there may also be employees who are eligible to file a PAGA suit but simply do not do so. To commence an action, an aggrieved employee must give notice of the alleged violation to the California Division of Occupational Safety and Health, stating the provisions that they allege their employer violated and “the facts and theories support[ing] the alleged violation.”⁵⁵ This lengthy process may exclude employees who are both unfamiliar with the administrative process and with the law. Furthermore, not all employees who are “aggrieved” may be aware that their employer is violating a law or willing to file a suit through PAGA.

While PAGA has expanded the accessibility of enforcement remedies to aggrieved employees, some localities have also arranged for deputization of community organizations to enter work sites and perform outreach to inform workers of their rights. For example, the Santa Clara County Office of Labor Standards Enforcement (“OLSE”) has partnered with the Fair Workplace Collaborative (“FWC”), a coalition of dedicated community organizations and advocates who directly engage with employees through flyering, training, and legal services.⁵⁶ The FWC is made up of several community-based organizations, including the Pilipino Association of Workers & Immigrants,⁵⁷ the Vietnamese American Roundtable,⁵⁸ and the Day Worker Center of Mountain View,⁵⁹ among other organizations.⁶⁰ According to Ruth Silver-Taube, a member of Santa Clara County’s FWC and Supervising Attorney of Santa Clara County’s OLSE Legal Advice Line, as of December 2023, the FWC is made up of about twenty-five people, three of whom are attorneys; the others work through the organizations that compose the FWC.⁶¹ Since 2018, the FWC has formed yearly contracts with the Santa Clara County OLSE that authorize FWC members to enter work sites and perform outreach, advising employees of their rights.⁶² Bearing a Santa Clara County badge, the FWC members go into work sites and speak with employees to assess whether they have experienced wage theft.⁶³ The contracts also set out deliverables the FWC must achieve, and require the FWC to provide monthly updates and regularly check in with the OLSE regarding its progress on the deliverables.⁶⁴

The authority that the FWC gains through deputization comes from Santa Clara County’s Food Permit Enforcement Program.⁶⁵ The Program enforces wage theft judgments against employers by suspending food facility permits from businesses who have “outstanding wage theft judgments” from the state.⁶⁶ Each year, the FWC is provided a list of Santa Clara County food vendor employers (employers who require health permits) and the FWC enters those work sites and speaks with its employees.⁶⁷ The FWC speaks with employees to assess whether they may have experienced wage theft or whether they may be facing abuse in the workplace—asking them whether they have received paychecks, whether they have been compensated for overtime, and whether there is violence in their workplace.⁶⁸ But the outreach efforts of the FWC are not limited just to food vendor employers; they can and have entered workplaces and spoken with employees outside of the food industry.⁶⁹

In addition to checking on worksites and speaking with employees, the contract between FWC and Santa Clara County also requires FWC to perform outreach efforts. As a result, the FWC organizes and presents training programs, during which it educates workers on their rights in the workplace.⁷⁰ Silver-Taube, who leads these trainings, hosts at least one training a month, each tailored to the different organizations making up the FWC.⁷¹ In total, her training efforts have reached more than one hundred workers in one year, as she has hosted trainings in conjunction with the Pilipino Association of Workers & Immigrants, the Vietnamese American Roundtable, and the Day Worker Center.⁷²

Silver-Taube also supervises the Santa Clara County’s OLSE Legal Advice Line, another outreach effort that has emerged from the partnership between FWC and Santa Clara County OLSE.⁷³ Offered in six different languages, the advice line helps workers who have questions about their rights or are seeking legal advice.⁷⁴ Silver-Taube estimates that, in about 90% of the calls, workers identify some actionable violation that their employer committed.⁷⁵ The three FWC lawyers can file claims on behalf of employees who suffer an actionable violation or can, alternatively, refer these employees to other attorneys to pursue their claims.⁷⁶

Deputization under the Santa Clara OLSE and FWC partnership benefits employees, but the work that the partnership is authorized to perform is limited. The partnership’s members may speak with employees but cannot access employer records or more thoroughly investigate wage theft. In Los Angeles, deputization is even more constrained, as no program similar to the Santa Clara OLSE and FWC partnership currently exists. Initiating deputization in Los Angeles as well as expanding the deputized functions so that private individuals can perform enforcement actions like inspecting employer records could broadly bolster wage theft enforcement.

The enormity of the wage theft problem in Los Angeles City could be addressed by deputizing private citizens to enter work sites and inform workers of their rights as well as inspect employer records to determine whether wage theft has occurred. Deputization is effective and important for several reasons. First, deputization expands the quantity of people authorized to perform an important government function. State enforcers have said that having a “million eyes on the ground” in the form of private citizens has been especially successful in deterring unlawful action.⁷⁷ Additionally, deputizing private citizens to enter work sites and investigate wage theft violations would increase the number of people actively working to disincentivize employers’ illegal actions, increasing the likelihood that victims of wage theft could become more knowledgeable of their rights and learn how to seek redress.

B. Who Would Deputize?

1. California Bureau of Field Enforcement

As an investigator of minimum wage and overtime claims and a subsection of California’s Labor Commissioner’s Office, California’s Bureau of Field Enforcement (“BOFE”) could deputize private citizens to perform investigations of wage theft.⁷⁸ The BOFE investigates and enforces statutes covering minimum wage, overtime, “workers’ compensation insurance, child labor, cash pay, unlicensed contractors, [and] Industrial Welfare Commission orders.”⁷⁹ The BOFE investigates “on behalf of all affected workers,” meaning that when workers file a complaint, the BOFE performs site-wide investigations and accordingly issues citations for violations it discovers.⁸⁰ When a violation is discovered, the BOFE collects and distributes unpaid wages to affected workers, but keeps the remaining penalties and fines to account for the costs incurred while performing the investigation.⁸¹

Although the BOFE has not deputized people to perform labor investigations, it has formed partnerships with workers’ rights advocacy groups, including worker centers.⁸² Formed in 2016, the California Strategic Enforcement Partnership “is a collaboration between the Labor Commissioner’s Office, the National Employment Law Project, and 14 workers’ rights and legal advocacy organizations.”⁸³ The partnership was formed to boost California’s efforts against wage theft, and partnering with worker organizations was meant to encourage a culture of compliance with labor law.⁸⁴

The BOFE “investigates reports of widespread labor law violations by interviewing workers, inspecting workplaces, issuing citations for violations, and collecting unpaid wages for distribution to workers.”⁸⁵ In the 2015–2016 fiscal year, the BOFE conducted 2,424 inspections and assessed over $81 million in wages and penalties. The BOFE engages with worker organizations through the California Strategic Enforcement Partnership by (1) meeting regularly in teams to share knowledge, identify and address wage theft, and discuss emerging complaints, (2) convening annually to build skills and relationships throughout the partnership, and (3) facilitating monthly conference meetings to share strategies and cross-train on tools for labor law enforcement.⁸⁶ Worker centers support workers throughout “every step of the investigation process”⁸⁷ and can convince “groups of workers to testify in an investigation.”⁸⁸

The California Strategic Enforcement Partnership recognizes the importance of worker centers and labor organizations in the fight against wage theft. However, there may be untapped potential behind these worker organizations because they have not been deputized such that they can act with the same authority as the BOFE when it comes to enforcement of wage theft. According to a BOFE 2020–2021 fiscal year report, the department collected around $29 million across wages, penalties, and interest from employers who committed violations.⁸⁹ Although this number indicates that the BOFE has made strong enforcement progress, it still has a long way to go. This number encompasses several violation categories that the BOFE is responsible for (including wage theft categories like overtime and misclassification, but also adding up outside categories like workers’ compensation and child labor).⁹⁰ However, California’s Legislative Analyst’s Office found that, in 2017, workers alleged a total of $320 million in unpaid wages alone, revealing a massive disparity.⁹¹ Expanding the BOFE’s partnership with worker centers such that worker centers are deputized with legal authority to investigate wage theft—entering work sites, inspecting employer records, interviewing employees, and ultimately identifying wage theft—could increase the BOFE’s capability to discover and address wage theft violations.

Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards

The Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards (“OWS”) is also well-positioned to deputize private citizens to combat wage theft within the city of Los Angeles. The OWS is a city government agency within the Bureau of Contract Administration of the Department of Public Works.⁹² The agency “enforces minimum wage, paid sick leave (PSL), and ban-the-box requirements for all employees who perform work in the City of Los Angeles.”⁹³ In the city of Los Angeles, the OWS is authorized to investigate violations of wage and hour laws.⁹⁴ Pursuant to the Los Angeles Municipal Code (“LAMC”), the OWS is statutorily authorized to enforce and implement several ordinances governing employment law in Los Angeles, including the Minimum Wage Ordinance (“MWO”),⁹⁵ the Fair Work Week Ordinance,⁹⁶ and the Hotel Worker Ordinance⁹⁷ (among others).

The OWS exists within the broader context of federal and state law. The federal government established standards for minimum wage, overtime pay, and employment standards for employees in the enactment of the FLSA in 1938.⁹⁸ The FLSA sets many wage and hour standards for employees, including restricting the employment of minors,⁹⁹ and establishing recordkeeping mandates that require employers to display an official poster outlining the requirements of the FLSA¹⁰⁰ and to keep employee time and pay records for at least three years.¹⁰¹ In addition, the FLSA offers overtime protection; the statute mandates that covered, nonexempt employees receive overtime pay for hours worked over forty per workweek at a rate of least one and one-half times the regular rate of pay.¹⁰²

The FLSA also governs the federal minimum wage, which promises employees a baseline pay for hours worked.¹⁰³ However, the federal minimum wage has remained $7.25 since 2007,¹⁰⁴ which, as inflation increases, is becoming less of a livable wage for earners. Many states have filled this gap by raising their state minimum wage well above the federal minimum wage. Effective January 1, 2025, California’s minimum wage was set at $16.50 per hour for all employers.¹⁰⁵ Within California, the city of Los Angeles updates its minimum wage annually based on the Consumer Price Index (“CPI”) for Urban Wage Earners and Clerical Workers (“CPI-W”) for the Los Angeles metropolitan area, which is published by the Bureau of Labor Statistics.¹⁰⁶ As of July 1, 2024, the minimum wage in the city of Los Angeles for all employers is $17.28 per hour¹⁰⁷ The Los Angeles Minimum Wage Ordinance, codified in Article 7 of Chapter XVIII of the Los Angeles Municipal Code, establishes that the City will pay higher than the California-mandated minimum wage and provide sick time benefits to employees.¹⁰⁸ The OWS is tasked with bearing administrative responsibilities under the MWO.¹⁰⁹

As of December 2023, the OWS has one Division Head and thirty employees.¹¹⁰ It is comprised of three sections: Outreach and Information (eight employees), Investigation and Compliance (sixteen employees), and Fair Work Week (six employees).¹¹¹ The first two sections (Outreach and Information and Investigation and Compliance) are, collectively, tasked with effectively implementing and enforcing the MWO.¹¹² The Investigation and Compliance Section “investigates complaints of wage underpayment” and sick time violations to assess where penalties may be applicable.¹¹³ The Information and Outreach Section informs businesses and employees about legal minimum wage and paid sick leave requirements, while helping with community outreach.¹¹⁴ On the outreach side, the OWS has attended outreach events, hosted training sessions for government staff, and made over 241 million media impressions since 2016.¹¹⁵

Within its investigation wing, from July 2016 to September 2023, the OWS received 1,084 complaints and closed 785 of them, collecting $540,600 in total penalties.¹¹⁶ The OWS’s investigation process generally follows five steps: (1) the complaint is vetted to ensure it falls within the OWS’s “jurisdiction and employee requirements are met”; (2) “the case is assigned to an investigator and additional information is obtained”; (3) “the employer is notified of the investigation and relevant records are requested”; (4) “the records are analyzed to determine whether the employer is complying with the MWO requirements”; and (5) “the case is then submitted to management for an evaluation of the investigative findings and recommendations.”¹¹⁷

In addition to the MWO, the third section of the OWS bears administrative responsibilities for the Fair Work Week Ordinance (“FWWO”), which provides a more predictable work schedule for retail workers.¹¹⁸ The FWWO requires that employers provide work schedules to employees before they begin employment.¹¹⁹ The FWWO also establishes “Predictability Pay,” which requires that employers compensate employees “with one additional hour of pay” for each change to a scheduled date, time, or location that either “does not result in loss of time to the” employee or “results in additional work time exceeding fifteen minutes.”¹²⁰ There are some exceptions to this predictability pay requirement, such as if the employee initiates the work schedule change or if the employer’s operations are compromised due to force majeure.¹²¹ However, in general, the FWWO aims to establish a more predictable work schedule with which retail employees can more accurately predict the sizes of their paychecks.

Furthermore, the LAMC’s Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards Ordinance, which was effective as of April 1, 2023, explicitly sets forth the OWS’s authority to enforce violations of wage theft and sick time benefits under the Los Angeles MWO and to enforce the rights and benefits provided to retail employees by the FWWO.¹²² The Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards Ordinance requires employers to retain employee records for at least four years and allows the OWS to access these records to monitor compliance with the MWO.¹²³ The Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards Ordinance also gives the OWS authority to investigate employers for possible violations of the Los Angeles MWO, Sick Time Benefits, and FWWO.¹²⁴

Given the vast amount of authority provided to the OWS to enforce wage and hour laws in Los Angeles, deputized private entities through this division could expand the OWS’s ability to investigate and enforce LAMC ordinances. Sharing the OWS’s investigative power with private individuals would enable them to broaden their capabilities, allowing them not only to identify more instances of illegal employer action, but also to seek remedies for employees who have been victims of wage theft.

The OWS serves as a robust starting point to analyze the potential of deputization within the City of Los Angeles. Because it exists within a defined statutory framework, the OWS’s legal structure can be examined to determine the possibility of deputization. Furthermore, because the OWS governs a city, it can pave the way for potential future applications to the BOFE and evaluations of deputization on a broader, statewide level.

C. Who Would Be Deputized?

There have not been any legal restrictions placed on who can be “deputized,” and previous examples of deputization in the law have provided for both private individuals (as in PAGA)¹²⁵ and nonprofit organizations (as in the worker centers in Santa Clara County’s FWC)¹²⁶ to be deputized. Since one of the benefits of deputization towards wage theft is to expand enforcement and ensure that more workers know about their rights and can seek redress when they have experienced wage theft, deputizing an organization would be more helpful than deputizing an individual. Organizations, which are generally equipped with more resources, can train their members to provide outreach and education to workers and can also gain rapport with workers so that workers have a resource to turn to.

Unions are organizations that have traditionally been thought of as advocates for workers’ rights, but they have seen “a significant decline in membership” in recent years.¹²⁷ The union membership rate was 10.0% in 2023.¹²⁸ The 2023 rate was very similar to the 10.1% rate in 2022, which was “down from 10.3% in 2021” and was the lowest union membership rate since 1983, the earliest year with comparable data on record.¹²⁹ Since the low union membership rate indicates that fewer workers can seek workplace protection through a union, a different source of workplace protection is needed. To meet this growing need, worker centers have become one of the most important means through which change is sought within the workplace.¹³⁰

Worker centers are nonprofit, community-led organizations aimed especially at supporting low-wage and immigrant workers.¹³¹ There are hundreds of worker centers throughout the United States, and California has forty-seven worker centers—more than any other state.¹³² Worker centers’ advocacy work ranges from lobbying and community organizing to direct engagement and research.¹³³ Some key characteristics define worker centers: (1) they mainly focus on low-income immigrant workers from a particular occupation or industry or from a particular ethnic group; (2) they place special focus on “organizing and leadership development” among their members; (3) they “provide a case management system for their members that focuses on labor violations,” including wage and hour claims; and (4) they lead “workshops on health and safety issues.”¹³⁴

The deputization of worker centers also carries many benefits because worker centers have distinct characteristics that enable them to serve the community. Worker centers have existed since the 1920s but grew enormously in the early 2000s.¹³⁵ Although worker centers have changed in scope and objectives throughout their history, they still maintain a focus on being community-led.¹³⁶ The members of worker centers are workers themselves—employees who are also seeking an improved workplace.¹³⁷ Furthermore, the cornerstone of worker centers is that they are made up of a “strong base of workers at the local level” who frequently play key roles in the “organizational decision-making” of their employers.¹³⁸

Worker centers use a combination of approaches, including: (1) “[s]ervice delivery, including legal representation to recover unpaid wages, English classes, worker rights education, and access to health clinics”; (2) advocacy, including researching employment conditions in low-wage industries and improving monitoring and grievance processes; and (3) organizing, including engaging in “leadership development.”¹³⁹ Because worker centers offer services, advocacy, and organizing, they provide unique services to help “low-wage immigrants navigate the world of work in the United States.”¹⁴⁰ Unlike labor unions, worker centers do not typically operate a dues-paying system;¹⁴¹ instead, they usually require people to become involved in the work or take courses on workers’ rights in order to join.¹⁴² Worker centers also engage in direct community outreach and educational workshops that can benefit people who are not members of the worker centers, making their services accessible to many.¹⁴³

Since worker centers provide a broad range of services and are accessible to workers, they are well-positioned to handle the authority that would come with deputization by a government agent. The efforts that worker centers engage in are wide-ranging; thus, they could absorb the responsibilities of being deputized by a government agent to enforce wage theft. Moreover, the deputization of Santa Clara County’s FWC is an example of successful deputization of worker centers. Most of the organizations that make up the FWC are worker centers that consist of members of the community and whose purpose is to serve a specific subset of marginalized workers.¹⁴⁴ The deputization of worker centers has seen success in Santa Clara County, and worker centers’ deputization to educate workers and investigate wage theft would also be impactful within the city of Los Angeles.

II. Deputization to Perform Outreach

Deputization of private citizens to assist in reducing the wage theft problem in Los Angeles can come in many forms, but two specific areas could benefit from deputization: outreach and investigation. Outreach is already contemplated through the LAMC. Under the LAMC, the OWS is given express statutory authority to develop an outreach program and inform employers and employees of minimum wage laws.¹⁴⁵ Section 188.12 of the LAMC states:

The Division shall establish a community-based outreach program to conduct education and outreach to Employers and Employees. In partnership with organizations involved in the community-based outreach program, the Division shall create outreach materials that are designed for Employers and Employees in particular industries.¹⁴⁶

Although the outreach program that the OWS has been charged with creating and implementing is not detailed in the statute, the OWS has taken several actions as part of its outreach efforts. As noted in its September 2023 Milestone Report, the OWS’s outreach included: (1) notifying businesses registered with the Office of Finance through mailed business tax statements, online renewals, and direct emails to business owners; (2) providing content for chambers of commerce & business associations, business improvement districts, and the Department of Neighborhood Empowerment to include in member newsletters; (3) holding training sessions and delivering information materials to staff from the “Mayor’s Office, [c]ouncil [d]istricts, [p]ublic [l]ibraries, [a]nimal [s]helters, BusinessSource Centers, and WorkSource Centers”; (4) attending outreach events; (5) establishing a toll-free hotline, email, and website to field inquiries and provide information; and (6) issuing requests for quotes and establishing an on-call list of contractors who will “provide community outreach and other support services.”¹⁴⁷

Its mention of “partnership with organizations” and “community-based outreach” indicates that the authority extended to the OWS includes partnership with organizations like worker centers. Thus, express deputization of worker centers to perform outreach could be framed within LAMC section 188.12, allowing private parties to communicate directly with workers to educate them about their rights under the law.

III. Deputization to Investigate

In addition to outreach, the LAMC also gives the OWS authority to investigate violations of Los Angeles ordinances relating to wages:

The [OWS] shall be responsible for investigating possible violations of the Los Angeles Minimum Wage, Sick Time Benefits, Fair Work Week Ordinance, and this article by an Employer or other person. The Employer shall cooperate fully in any investigation by the Division. The Division shall have access to all business sites and places of labor subject to the Minimum Wage and Fair Work Week Ordinances during business hours to inspect and request copies of books and records, interview employees and any other relevant witnesses, investigate such matters necessary or appropriate and request the Board of Public Works to issue a subpoena for books, papers, records, or other items relevant to the enforcement of this article. The Employer is required to provide to the Division its legal name, address, and telephone number in writing.¹⁴⁸

Employees can submit complaints regarding violations of the MWO directly to the OWS.¹⁴⁹ Employees also have the option of filing separate or additional complaints through the State Labor Commissioner’s office.¹⁵⁰ According to its September 2023 milestone report, the OWS received 1,084 complaints and closed 785 of them (202 with violations) since July 2016, thus handling complaints at a rate of 72%.¹⁵¹ But even as the OWS addresses complaints submitted to it, data indicates that the complaints received encompass only a small proportion of Angelenos who have experienced wage theft. For example, Los Angeles Worker Center Network’s 2023 concept paper called Los Angeles the “wage theft capital of the nation”¹⁵² after a UCLA survey revealed that 88.5% of low-wage Los Angeles County workers in the sample experienced at least one type of pay-related workplace violation in the week of work before the survey.¹⁵³ According to 2023 Census Bureau data, 66.5% of Los Angeles City’s population of 3,820,914 were in the civilian labor force from 2019–2023.¹⁵⁴ These numbers indicate that over two and a half million working Angelenos are at risk of wage violations per year. Thus, even though the city provides a method for reporting complaints relating to wage violations through the OWS, many violations appear to be slipping through the cracks.¹⁵⁵

Given the magnitude of the wage theft problem in Los Angeles, deputizing private citizens through the OWS could identify more employees who are experiencing wage theft and, in doing so, disincentivize employers from stealing wages. Deputization to investigate would enable worker centers to access employer records to identify wage theft victims, speak directly with employees, and encourage them to file complaints to seek redress.

Currently, the enforcement power given to the OWS is explicitly limited to only designated OWS officials. The Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards Ordinance provides the OWS with the following investigative authority:

The head of the [OWS] or their designee shall have access to all business sites and places of labor subject to the Minimum Wage Ordinance, the Fair Work Week Ordinance, and [the Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards Ordinance] during business hours to inspect books and records, interview employees and any other relevant witnesses, and investigate such matters necessary or appropriate to determine whether an Employer has violated any provisions of the Minimum Wage Ordinance, the Fair Work Week Ordinance, or [the Los Angeles Office of Wage Standards Ordinance].¹⁵⁶

The OWS Ordinance grants broad discretion to the OWS and allows it to perform an extensive range of investigative functions, subject to several separate ordinances. Rules and regulations implementing the FWWO even extend this authority, allowing the OWS to “conduct inquiries and investigations into areas outside of the FWWO to determine compliance with the FWWO.”¹⁵⁷

Although the OWS’s powers are wide-ranging, the determination of who can exercise these powers has not been clearly defined. The OWS Ordinance expressly grants access and authority to the OWS’s head and the head’s designee. The “head” of the OWS can likely be straightforwardly pinpointed to the OWS’s “Division Manager,” who leads the Office.¹⁵⁸ However, the determination of who can be categorized a “designee” is not so clear. Although there are defined terms under both the FWWO section authorizing the OWS¹⁵⁹ and under the FWWO’s rules and regulations,¹⁶⁰ neither provide a definition for whom exactly a “designee” may be. This lack of clarity leaves open the possibility that the designee may not necessarily be a government entity employed with the OWS and may instead be a third party. Thus, private citizens could be deputized to investigate with authorization as a “designee” by the head of the OWS. However, whether the Division head of the OWS may grant such authority to the private citizens of a worker center is circumscribed by the California Constitution and relevant case law.

A. The Municipal Nondelegation Doctrine

The California Constitution restricts private persons from performing certain governmental functions. Los Angeles is a charter city, meaning the basic law of the city’s government is found in the City Charter, rather than in general law.¹⁶¹ While a general law city organizes itself with “local government provisions in the state constitution and state statutes,” a charter city like Los Angeles can design its own government, developing some “political and governmental autonomy.”¹⁶² The Los Angeles City Charter is the fundamental document of the city,¹⁶³ giving the city control over its own “municipal affairs.”¹⁶⁴ The California Constitution authorizes charter cities the ability to exercise plenary authority over municipal affairs, subject only to constitutional limitations.¹⁶⁵ The city charter “identifies the main governing bodies of the city, along with their powers and duties.”¹⁶⁶ No changes to the charter can be made “without a vote of the people.”¹⁶⁷

Still, all cities must comply with the state constitution; the California Constitution governs both county and city government within California.¹⁶⁸ Of particular relevance, the California Constitution includes a nondelegation doctrine in article XI, section 11: “The Legislature may not delegate to a private person or body power to make, control, appropriate, supervise, or interfere with county or municipal corporation improvements, money, or property, or to levy taxes or assessments, or perform municipal functions.”¹⁶⁹

This prohibition against legislative delegations of power to private entities was initially enacted as article XI, section 13 of the California Constitution on May 7, 1879.¹⁷⁰ On June 1970, California voters passed Proposition 2, a ballot measure aimed at revising the substance and language of the California Constitution.¹⁷¹ As part of this revision, Section 13 was redesignated as Section 11, and the section was amended to its current language.¹⁷² The provision went into effect on November 23, 1970.¹⁷³

Although the restriction against delegating municipal functions is a narrower subsection of the nondelegation doctrine, laws against delegating governmental power exist on a broader level. The nondelegation doctrine has been examined both within federal law¹⁷⁴ and state law. Under state law, the doctrine is applied in many different circumstances, spanning a wide range of applications such as “delegations to private parties, other state governments, and nearly all types of interbranch delegations.”¹⁷⁵ Yet, although state courts apply the nondelegation doctrine in more contexts than federal courts, scholarship on state nondelegation doctrine is scarce; only two to three studies about the state nondelegation doctrines have been published throughout the past few decades.¹⁷⁶ Furthermore, states frequently apply the nondelegation doctrine in many different contexts, resulting in little coherence.¹⁷⁷

The two most recently published treatments of state nondelegation doctrines both categorize California as a state with a more lenient nondelegation doctrine.¹⁷⁸ The first study is Gary Greco’s article, published in 1994, which grouped states into three categories. Eighteen states were categorized as “strict” nondelegation states, meaning these states require the legislature to “provide definite and clear standards with the delegation” of power in a statute.¹⁷⁹ Twenty-four states were categorized as a “loose standards” state, meaning that standards or safeguards must be provided by either the legislature or administrative agency, and the administrative agency is required to adopt “procedural safeguards” to follow when making a decision.¹⁸⁰ Greco’s final category, containing six states, was “procedural safeguards” states, which do not require even minimal statutory standards to uphold a delegation, leaving legislatures with less effect on policy.¹⁸¹ Greco categorized California as a procedural safeguards state.¹⁸²

The second, more recent study is Jim Rossi’s, published in 1999, which also places states into three separate categories to “update and refine” Greco’s summary of the state doctrines.¹⁸³ Rossi grouped twenty states into the “strong” nondelegation category, meaning these states have statutes which are “periodically struck on non-delegation grounds.”¹⁸⁴ Twenty-three states were categorized in Rossi’s “moderate” category, which “do not always require specific standards,” but can vary the standards necessary depending on the statute.¹⁸⁵ Rossi categorized seven states in the “weak” category; these states uphold delegations as long as the agency has “adequate procedural safeguards.”¹⁸⁶ California was grouped into Rossi’s “weak” category.¹⁸⁷ Although these studies and groupings are imperfect,¹⁸⁸ they provide a general framework to understand how California’s nondelegation doctrine compares to other states: California’s nondelegation doctrine is more lenient than several other states’ nondelegation doctrines.

California is not alone in restricting delegation of legislative power to municipal functions; more than a dozen states forbid their legislatures from delegating powers, including their municipal powers.¹⁸⁹ Colorado and Wyoming each forbid their state legislatures from delegating “any municipal function whatever” to private parties.¹⁹⁰ Similarly, Utah prohibits legislative delegations from “perform[ing] any municipal functions.”¹⁹¹

Importantly, this provision of the California Constitution does not preclude all delegation of the legislature’s power. Instead, the prohibition on delegation is cabined such that the legislature may not delegate the power to “perform municipal functions.” As a result, case law regarding the municipal nondelegation doctrine involves determining what constitutes a nondelegable activity, who the delegated party can be, and whether the delegation was proper.

Legislative Actions

Since California “prohibit[s] delegation of legislative power,”¹⁹² case law interpreting the nondelegation doctrine addresses the preliminary question of whether a legislative action was taken. In Kugler v. Yocum, Alhambra city residents contested a proposed ordinance by their city council which would set Los Angeles wage rates as the minimum for Alhambra firefighters’ salaries.¹⁹³ The court found that this proposed ordinance was a legislative action by the city council because wage rates were expressly provided for as a council power in the city charter; the city council was therefore acting in its “legislative” capacity.¹⁹⁴ Decisions about wage rates are an explicit authority of the council in Alhambra, making it a legislative action.¹⁹⁵

Like the wage rates of firefighters in Kugler, the investigative powers for wage theft are expressly left to the OWS under the Los Angeles City Charter. The Los Angeles City Charter states that all legislative power of the City is “vested in the Council and shall be exercised by ordinance.”¹⁹⁶ The LAMC is the ordinance granting authority to the OWS;¹⁹⁷ under the LAMC, the OWS is given specific duties under the MWO¹⁹⁸ and FWWO.¹⁹⁹ Thus, the passage of this local legislation is likely a legislative function. As a result, any delegations of these powers would likely be a legislative action subject to the nondelegation doctrine of the California Constitution.

Municipal Actions

In addition, California’s municipal nondelegation doctrine prohibits delegation of municipal functions. The determination of what constitutes a “municipal function” such that it cannot be delegated to private persons within the constraints of the California Constitution is a fact-specific inquiry. Courts must “decide, under the facts of each case, whether the subject matter under discussion is . . . municipal.”²⁰⁰ Article XI of the California Constitution, which sets forth the nondelegation doctrine, does not define “municipal functions.” To define this term, courts have looked to other provisions of the California Constitution to determine the responsibilities that the governing body is assigned.²⁰¹

The question of what constitutes a “municipal affair” has been addressed by courts when it comes to several different provisions of the California Constitution.²⁰² Within these contexts, courts generally view municipal functions as “problems which exhibit exclusively local characteristics at certain times in the life of a community.”²⁰³ Acknowledging that this view encompasses ever-changing characteristics, the California Supreme Court has said, “It is . . . settled that the constitutional concept of municipal affairs is not a fixed or static quantity. It changes with the changing conditions upon which it is to operate.”²⁰⁴ The subject matter of cases addressing the municipal nondelegation doctrine are diverse, but courts generally hold that municipal matters relate to “local function”—functions so limited in scope to a particular region that they can be “adequately handled by the municipal authorities of a single town.”²⁰⁵

In People ex rel. Younger v. County of El Dorado, the Tahoe Regional Planning Compact was created to plan for the future and preservation of Lake Tahoe.²⁰⁶ The Compact created an internal agency that made “plans for land use, transportation, conservation, recreation, and public services and facilities” throughout the entire Lake Tahoe region, which spanned California and Nevada.²⁰⁷ The Compact’s authority was challenged as an unconstitutional delegation of municipal power.²⁰⁸ The California Supreme Court held the Compact was constitutional because the delegation of power was not for municipal functions; the Compact was enacted to serve regional purposes, not just local purposes.²⁰⁹ The Compact did not have the authority to perform municipal functions such as building “local parks”; instead, it operated on a larger regional basis.²¹⁰ Because it served a regional and not a municipal function, the Compact did not violate the California Constitution.²¹¹

Applying that reasoning here, the deputization of worker centers by the OWS is likely a municipal function because it is limited in scope and region—affecting only workers in the city of Los Angeles. Since this deputization would likely be seen as both a legislative action and a municipal action, it would likely trigger application of the municipal nondelegation doctrine.

Private Parties

Legislatures may be prohibited from delegating municipal matters when such delegation lands in the hands of private parties. In Howard Jarvis Taxpayers’ Assn. v. Fresno Metropolitan Projects Authority, the Fresno legislature created the Fresno Metropolitan Projects Authority and gave it the ability to tax. The California Court of Appeal found that levying taxes was a legislative function because the California Constitution has explicitly identified the imposition of taxes as a function of local government.²¹² In addition, eleven of the Authority’s thirteen board members were individuals from private organizations with no “governmental subservience”; thus, they were private parties.²¹³ The court therefore found that the Authority was a private body to whom the legislature could not delegate its taxing power, a legislative function.

Simi Valley Recreation & Park, in which the legislature passed a statute that delegated decisions regarding undeveloped land to a local agency formation commission, serves as a contrast.²¹⁴ In this case, the California Court of Appeal found this delegation did not violate article XI, section 11 of the California Constitution because local agency formation commissions are government agencies, not “a private person or body” under the language of the constitution.²¹⁵ The court also noted that, prior to its amendment and while it was categorized as section 13, California’s nondelegation doctrine expressly precluded delegation to a “special commission.”²¹⁶ However, this language was repealed in the section 11 amendment in 1970.²¹⁷ Courts no longer apply the former section 13 language, and special commissions are no longer an indication of an unconstitutional delegation.²¹⁸

Worker centers are not government-affiliated and are thus private parties. Since this deputization structure would be a delegation of legislative power to a private party, it must meet the standards courts require for a proper delegation to avoid being banned under the municipal nondelegation doctrine. But this private aspect of worker centers is, in this context, actually a virtue. After all, one of the values of deputization is its separateness from resource-strapped government entities.

Standard for Delegation

Even when a legislature allows a private party to commit an action which is found to be legislative and municipal, such delegation may still be acceptable if a sufficient standard for delegation exists. In Kugler v. Yocum, the California Supreme Court set out the standard for determining whether legislative power is validly delegated.²¹⁹ The court stated that legislative power can be delegated if it is “channeled by a sufficient standard”; after the Legislature creates a policy and sets the standards for it, it may leave the “power to fill up the details” to executive or administrative officers by giving these officers the ability to prescribe rules and regulations that will effectuate the law.²²⁰ In addition, “[w]hile the legislative body cannot delegate its power to make a law, it can make a law to delegate a power to determine some fact or state of things upon which the law makes or intends to make its own action depend.”²²¹

In Kugler, the court rejected the residents’ argument that a new ordinance tying Alhambra city firemen’s salaries to the Los Angeles salaries would be an unlawful delegation of legislative power to those parties who establish salaries for Los Angeles firemen.²²² Instead, the court concluded that the legislature’s decision to adopt the ordinance itself would “constitute the legislative body’s resolution of the ‘fundamental issue,’ ” and any subsequent steps taken to fill in the application and execution of policy is not legislative delegation.²²³

More recently, California courts have determined whether a sufficient standard for delegation exists by looking at whether the legislature is stripped of its ability to make final decisions.²²⁴ The California Court of Appeal stated: “The constitutionality of [a statute’s] factfinding provisions turns on whether the provisions divest the County of its final decision-making authority.”²²⁵ The California Supreme Court has not addressed whether final decision-making authority meets a sufficient standard for delegation. However, lower courts have relied on this principle, finding that a municipal function has not been improperly delegated when the Legislature leaves the task of achieving their goals to some other body—whether public or private—so long as it is the Legislature who makes the “fundamental policy decisions.”²²⁶ In general, California courts have been relatively generous in finding that an agency did not improperly delegate power so long as a county or city has not been divested of its authority to make final decisions.²²⁷ Courts are also deferential to the legislature, noting, “If there is any doubt as to the Legislature’s power to act in any given case, the doubt should be resolved in favor of the Legislature’s action.”²²⁸

The municipal nondelegation doctrine was not violated in California Renters Legal Advocacy & Education Fund v. City of San Mateo. In that case, the legislature added a provision to its Housing Accountability Act (“HAA”) allowing a reasonable person standard to determine compliance with a housing project.²²⁹ When a renters group’s residential project was denied by the City of San Mateo, it argued that this denial violated the HAA.²³⁰ The City of San Mateo challenged the HAA provision as unconstitutional, arguing it would allow a private person to place evidence into the record that a project is compliant with objective standards.²³¹ The City argued this was a violation of the nondelegation doctrine because a private person could force a local agency to approve the project, stripping the legislature of its decision-making function.²³² However, the court of appeal found this provision did not violate the municipal nondelegation doctrine. The court of appeal stated:

[The] city’s governing body retains broad authority, subject to judicial review, to exercise decisionmaking authority: to determine whether there is substantial evidence from which a reasonable person could conclude the project is consistent with the city’s applicable objective requirements; to deny or reduce the density of a project that does not meet such standards or that causes an unavoidable adverse impact on public health or safety; and to impose conditions of approval that do not reduce the project’s density where applicable objective standards are met.”²³³

In contrast, the municipal nondelegation doctrine was violated in County of Riverside v. Superior Court when a sheriff’s association ordered the county to binding arbitration to resolve economic issues arising from negotiations with unions representing firefighters or law enforcement officers.²³⁴ Analysis of nondelegation was triggered: the compensation of these individuals was a municipal function expressly provided to the legislature in the California Constitution,²³⁵ and the arbitrators of the issues were private entities, not public officials.²³⁶ The court ultimately held the statute unconstitutional because the arbitration it required, from which the results would be binding on the public agency,²³⁷ deprived the public agency of the ultimate power to make its own decisions.²³⁸

In sum, although deputization by the OWS to worker centers is a delegation of a municipal function by a legislative body to a private party, the municipal nondelegation doctrine is still likely not violated. As long as the OWS retains final decision-making authority, extending the authority granted to the Los Angeles OWS to private citizens within worker centers is likely permissible and not in violation of the municipal nondelegation doctrine. Entering worksites to perform investigations on employer wage practices and inspecting employer records does not bind the public agency of the OWS to any final decision. On the other hand, a worker center’s ability to take actions such as filing wage claims or arbitrating with employers would likely be characterized as final decisions. As to these binding choices, a worker center’s authority should be thoroughly constrained; the decision of whether or not to take these steps must belong to the OWS. However, when it comes to non-binding decisions, the deputization of worker centers under the LAMC is likely permissible under the California Constitution.

To further strengthen the constitutionality of this deputization, the reservation of this final decision-making authority should be made explicit in contracts between deputized entities and the OWS. In particular, all contracts between the OWS and the worker centers should precisely note that the deputized entities may not file suit, begin employment action, or make any final decisions without prior written approval of the OWS. Contracts should state expressly that the work product of deputized worker centers are subject to the approval of and final decisions are to be made by the OWS. This clarity and explicitness would bolster the legitimacy of the deputization relationship between the OWS and private citizens, preventing the relationship from being barred by the California Constitution’s municipal nondelegation doctrine.

Conclusion

The enormity of the wage theft problem affecting millions of American employees requires a solution beyond the underenforced laws currently in place. Located in the “wage theft capital of the nation,”²³⁹ the city of Los Angeles is particularly affected by this issue.

The deputization of private citizens by Los Angeles’s Office of Wage Standards offers a path through which the city government can more effectively enforce wage laws and hold employers accountable. Deputization could not only endow workers with knowledge about their rights through outreach, but would also enable private citizens to inspect employer records to identify victims of wage theft. Deputizing private citizens would broaden the enforcement powers available to the OWS and encourage workers to file complaints while discouraging employers from violating the law. Although deputization through the OWS would still result in some limitations on Los Angeles City’s enforcement abilities, its successes and drawbacks should be

studied to assess the potential of statewide deputization through a larger entity such as the BOFE.

Deputization of worker centers to perform worker outreach and investigate wage theft within work sites could provide greater enforcement of wage laws. However, such deputization is vulnerable to attack under the California Constitution’s municipal nondelegation doctrine. Deputization of worker centers would be a delegation of municipal action by the Los Angeles legislature to worker centers, a private party. Although these factors make the municipal nondelegation doctrine applicable, a clear standard for delegation would likely allow deputization to survive. In particular, unambiguous language that the OWS would retain ultimate control over any decision-making would help strengthen the legality of this deputization and prevent it from violating the California Constitution’s municipal nondelegation doctrine. This explicit language could be found in formal documentation of a deputization relationship, or in rules and regulations from the LAMC regarding the OWS.

Overall, with the proper boundaries and constraints, the deputization of worker centers by the OWS to perform outreach to employees and to investigate wage theft is likely permissible and constitutional. Taking advantage of the community ties and expertise of worker centers could enable the OWS to better serve the workers of Los Angeles while discouraging wage theft by employers. Deputization of worker centers offers a powerful avenue to combat Los Angeles’s enormous and persistent wage theft problem.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 725

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Kalysa To*

* Executive Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 98; J.D. Candidate 2025, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. English & Psychology 2021, University of California, Los Angeles. My sincere gratitude to Professor Clare Pastore, Yvonne Medrano, Victor Narro, and Ruth Silver-Taube for providing their valuable insight. Thank you also to the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their work, and to my family for their support.

“Fake Drake”: Vindicating Copyright Ownership in the Advent of Generative AI Music

April 2025April 2025Melissa Schneider*

INTRODUCTION

In April 2023, “Heart on My Sleeve” almost instantly went viral on TikTok, grabbing the attention of millions of viewers who were intrigued by what seemed to be an unreleased collaboration between Drake and The Weeknd.¹ The song not only sounded extremely similar to its alleged vocalists and their music styles, but the lyrics also reflected events and people relevant to their lives, resulting in a very convincing piece of music. But it quickly became clear that this song was not, in fact, created nor sung by Drake and The Weeknd; instead, it was the product of artificial intelligence (“AI”) music-generating programs used by Ghostwriter977, the poster of the video.² After amassing millions of views across various platforms in just a few days, streaming services pulled the song,³ and those searching for it on YouTube were met with a message stating the video was “no longer available due to a copyright claim by Universal Music Group.”⁴

While concerns about this particular song seem to have been adequately addressed by streaming services quickly pulling it from their platforms, the impact of Ghostwriter977’s video was profound and widespread. While generative AI had already aroused questions and concerns generally, ⁵ “Heart on My Sleeve” directed the world’s attention to the music context. While this is not the first instance of a controversial AI-generated musical work,⁶ the nature and quality of the song revealed just how advanced generative AI technology has become, sparking strong responses ranging from excited curiosity to extreme outrage.⁷

The key question that the world is now more intently wondering, as artists, labels, and music representatives wave the flag of “copyright infringement,” is whether U.S. copyright law, as it stands today, can be a source of recourse for artists to take legal action in response to AI-generated music. Due to the novelty of the technology and the nuances of copyright law in the music context, we are without the legal precedent one would usually look at to find a more definitive answer. Because copyright holders’ concerns are pressing and nothing suggests that copyright law will soon be amended to address them, analogizing to similar cases and drawing on the fundamental principles of, and rationales for, copyright protection is necessary to develop predictions as to how courts will rule in a copyright case of Artist v. AI User.

Copyright is concerned with protecting the rights of creators and encouraging innovation, meaning that there remains an additional concern about being overly restrictive and inhibiting creativity and progress. In the context of AI-generated music and copyright infringement, we are placed at what some deem a crossroads,⁸ left to decide whether we value human artists’ creativity and resulting work more or less than we value technological innovation and its potential for important advancements. On one side of this policy debate is the music industry, which generated $15.9 billion in revenue in 2022 in the United States alone,⁹ and represents an art form that has brought humans together since the beginning of time. There is a high barrier to achieving conventional success in the music industry, which some interpret to mean that only the very best succeed as a result of their hard work and dedication. But the other side of the debate takes these same ideas to highlight how innovative generative AI music should be encouraged. Unlike the music industry, which is extremely difficult to break into, there is a very low barrier to entry for generative AI use, as it is largely accessible and there are many tools one can use to learn how to harness the technology.¹⁰ Some see this as an opportunity to diversify music and the people making it, which has many benefits. There are strong opinions on both sides, placing this debate squarely within the realm of what legislators anticipated would be a subject of copyright controversy—how can we balance protecting existing creations and encouraging future innovations? ¹¹

Absent both a clear answer to this question and any indications that existing copyright law will soon be amended to specifically address the issue of potential copyright infringement by generative AI music outputs, we must look to the interpretation of current copyright law in similar situations. This Note will use case law to shed light on how courts might treat copyright infringement suits involving AI-generated music. To illustrate how current copyright law will apply to real AI-generated music, two hypothetical songs will be used as examples, both based on songs that could be created using existing generative AI music systems.¹²

Sample Song A is a rap song created by User A using Uberduck.ai (“Uberduck”). Sample Song A was created using a generic punk rap beat provided by Uberduck. The voice used to create Sample Song A is an option specifically labeled as Kanye West in the era of Yeezus, West’s provocative 2013 album. The lyrics are generated by Uberduck, using the prompt “rebellion, slavery, superiority, unapologetic, perseverance, individuality, and power,” all of which are words that have been used to describe West’s reputation, as well as the themes of Yeezus and particularly, the hit song “Black Skinhead.”¹³ The resulting rap sounds nearly identical to West, with lyrics closely tied to themes he has focused on. The unsuspecting listener may very likely mistake the song for a new release by West himself. While the song sounds like it would fit in with West’s discography, the actual music and lyrics are completely different from any of his prior releases.

Sample Song B is an emotional ballad, and User B created the musical composition using MuseNet. In creating Sample Song B, they selected Adele as the vocal style for the song, and the selected instrument was limited to piano. The introduction to Sample Song B uses the well-known piano phrase that functions as a melodic hook throughout Adele’s “Someone Like You,” an option provided by MuseNet. This piano segment is arguably the most distinctive musical feature of “Someone Like You,” and is known as an arpeggio, which melodizes chords.¹⁴ The exact piano chords and resulting melody are used—just slightly sped up—but after the introduction, the chords begin to differ. However, the song returns to the piano phrase after the chorus, resulting in a song that is musically similar to “Someone Like You.” User B added lyrics using an outside platform after MuseNet finalized the composition. Sample Song B’s lyrics were written to evoke feelings of both love and despair, and the words themselves speak to a failed relationship, regret, and a longing for love; thus, the song, both lyrically and musically, bears a notable resemblance to “Someone Like You” and Adele’s music generally.¹⁵ The lyrics are sung in a feminine, mezzo-soprano voice, but unlike Sample Song A, the voice does not directly imitate its style inspiration.

Before applying copyright law to the sample songs, this Note provides relevant background information. Part I introduces generative AI, providing an overview of how the technology works and details on how the systems used to make the sample songs produce musical works. Additionally, the U.S. Copyright Office’s statements about AI are discussed. Part II focuses on current copyright law—what it requires, what it protects, and how infringement actions work. Music occupies a unique area of copyright law because of the separation between the composition and the sound recording, so limitations and exclusions are discussed in detail. Because courts have not specifically addressed AI on many occasions, analogizing to other cases involving technology helps anticipate the judicial response to this novel technology. Part III applies copyright law to the sample songs and predicts likely outcomes. This includes an analysis of how the songs may fare in all steps of an infringement action, from defenses to statutorily imposed limitations on what can be the basis of a lawsuit. This analysis reveals how copyright law might help artists and how it may hurt them. While artists may potentially find support in trademark law or the right of publicity, this Note will focus solely on copyright law as a vehicle for attempting to vindicate their rights. Finally, Part IV discusses policy implications associated with trying to fit AI-generated music into our developed system of copyright law, highlights the key concerns for artists, and points to gray areas that warrant clarification. The conclusion of this Note summarizes anticipated outcomes and the complicated nature of fitting new technology into the current framework of copyright law.

I. BACKGROUND: GENERATIVE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE

A. How the Technology Works

AI is “a science and a set of computational techniques that are inspired by the way in which human beings use their nervous system and their body to feel, learn, reason, and act.”¹⁶ More simply, AI can be thought of as “a man-made object with thinking power.”¹⁷ At the foundation of any program is data input, a starting point akin to the intaking of information that constitutes the first step of the human learning process; the difference between AI and human learning in this respect, however, is that AI systems require massive amounts of data to be effective.¹⁸ How exactly systems use data and produce desired results depends on the learning approach. The most prominent systems are machine learning (“ML”) and deep learning (“DL”).

ML is the “most promising and most relevant domain” to apply AI.¹⁹ ML is a way of learning from big data, and its algorithm is self-adaptive, meaning that through experience, it can get new patterns and improve “perception, knowledge, decisions, or actions.”²⁰ The key feature that distinguishes ML is that the goal is for the algorithm to learn to find its own solutions, as opposed to learning to follow human-defined rules.²¹ DL uses “large multi-layer (artificial) neural networks”²² (“ANNs”) to carry out tasks. ²³ DL algorithms “filter[] the input through many layers,” resulting in the ability to “classify and predict the data.”²⁴ “Computational nodes” are created and trained, and ultimately make decisions through a filtering process that is similar to the human brain.²⁵

This Note will focus specifically on generative AI applications, which are created using generative modeling.²⁶ Generative AI models have a “machine learning architecture” and use learned patterns to generate new data samples.²⁷ There are various generative AI systems, each tailored to a desired output goal; for example, ChatGPT is a generative AI system that generates text and is based on an “X-to-text” model.²⁸ Because generative AI is a subset of ML, the training process requires substantial amounts of data. How models are trained can vary greatly, so this Note will focus on the training used for the specific systems that generate music.

B. Generative AI in the Music Context

There are important nuances to note when discussing generative AI systems that create music as opposed to other output domains. Systems that generate music have attracted a lot of attention purely because the output is something we have long considered to be an “innate pursuit of human beings,” as music is viewed as a human expression that encompasses both “creativity” and “collaboration.”²⁹ While many people remain very opposed to generative AI music,³⁰ it is undeniable that the technology has advanced rapidly in ways that have vastly improved the output quality; many generative AI music systems are now able to account for the subtle but important nuances in recorded music and generate output accordingly.³¹

Most music-generating systems involve combinations of ML, DL, and ANNs. The sample songs guiding this Note’s application of copyright law to AI-generated music used the following two noteworthy systems: Uberduck.ai and MuseNet, both of which exist on different ends of the technology spectrum. While these systems are different in relevant ways that will be discussed, it is important to note a key similarity is that they are trained on existing music, so it is almost guaranteed that at least some of the input includes copyrighted songs that train the model to invoke a sound or style.

Uberduck, used for Sample Song A, is a speech synthesis system powered by DL that generates “high-quality and expressive voice output.”³² Uberduck utilizes several models for speech synthesis, including SO-VITS-SVC, HiFi-GAN, and other text-to-speech models.³³ SO-VITS-SVC is a DL model, trained using audio files to convert recordings into singing voices.³⁴ SO-VITS-SVC references “SoftVC,” “[c]onditional [v]ariational [a]utoencoder with [a]dversarial [l]earning,” and “singing voice conversion.”³⁵ Using a source audio, SoftVC, or “soft voice conversion” separates a singer’s voice into “frequency bands,” which are encoded to analyze “distinct characteristics” of a voice.³⁶ A conditional variational autoencoder with adversarial learning uses adversarial training aimed at enabling text-to-speech models to handle more varied data.³⁷ Lastly, singing voice conversion, which can be thought of like a voice cloner, converts one singing voice into another while maintaining features like pitch, rhythm, and notes from the original input.³⁸ Uberduck also uses HiFi-GAN, which is a specialized variant of the generative model Generative Adversarial Network (“GAN”).³⁹ GANs use generators and discriminators, which work together in a repeated feedback process to help the generator produce results that pass the discriminator’s authenticity test.⁴⁰ The discriminator is trained to determine whether an audio sample is real or fake, which aids the generator in “better approximat[ing] the distribution of real data,” resulting in more realistic-sounding outputs.⁴¹ Through its “loss function,” the generator improves its output by incorporating feedback from the error in results, which is the difference between actual and predicted outputs.⁴² This process is illustrated in Figure 1 below. The difference with HiFi-GAN, specifically, is that it is tailored to “transform recorded speech to sound as though it had been recorded in a studio.”⁴³ The use of HiFi-GAN is an important component of making the resulting song sound believable. Together, these technologies and the other text-to-speech models work to mimic the voice of an input audio and make it sound as authentic as possible.

Figure 1. The HiFi-GAN Process

While both systems use DL, MuseNet, used for Sample Song B, is not a text-to-speech system, and is instead a music composition generator that uses a transformer model, which is illustrated in Figure 2 below. MuseNet uses MIDI files encompassing a wide variety of musical styles as its training data.⁴⁴ In training the system, sequential data is provided in the form of sets of notes, and it is asked to predict what the next note will be.⁴⁵ Data is encoded in a way that “combines expressivity with conciseness.”⁴⁶ Similar to the adversarial elements of Uberduck, MuseNet has an “inner critic” during training which asks the model if a sample was generated by the model or from the dataset.⁴⁷ Additionally, MuseNet created composer and instrumentation tokens which are used during training to teach the model to utilize such information when making predictions; the result is that the model can be conditioned to generate output in a certain style using prompts.⁴⁸ Essentially, MuseNet uses the music styles and MIDI files it has been trained on to generate note sequences that sound realistic, as if human-generated.⁴⁹

Figure 2. Transformer Model Training

With the internal side of the technology having been established, the next component is the user side. When using Uberduck—specifically the “AI Generated Rap” feature used to create Sample Song A—the user is able to select a beat from a list of premade generic beats.⁵⁰ After that is chosen, users have a choice to input custom lyrics or utilize Uberduck’s AI lyric generator, which requires entering a detailed “description of what you want your rap to be about.”⁵¹ Finally, the user selects an artist from a list of “[r]appers” to be the voice of their song.⁵² The end result is a complete rap song. As for MuseNet, the initial prompts include style, introduction, instruments, and number of tokens.⁵³ Style options range from Mozart to Lady Gaga to Disney.⁵⁴ Similarly, the introduction options cover a wide range, including the intro from “Someone Like You” by Adele, which is used in Sample Song B.⁵⁵ The number of tokens used corresponds to the length of the song. The end product is a musical composition, to which lyrics can be added outside the platform.⁵⁶

C. Copyright Office on AI

In August 2023, the U.S. Copyright Office (“Office”) published a notice of inquiry on copyright and AI, which followed the March 2023 launch of the Office’s AI Initiative.⁵⁷ This inquiry specifically focused on policy issues relating to copyrighted works being used to train models, the copyrightability of AI-generated works, potential liability for AI-generated work that infringes on a copyright, and how to treat AI-generated works that imitate artists.⁵⁸ In July 2024, the Office published Part 1 of the Report on Copyright and Artificial Intelligence (“Report”), which addresses the topic of digital replicas.⁵⁹ Specifically referencing “Heart on My Sleeve,” the Office ultimately concluded that it believes the time has come for a new federal law to address unauthorized digital replicas.⁶⁰ With respect to copyright law specifically, the Office broadly indicated that a victim of a digital replica in the form of a musical work may have a claim for infringement of the copyrighted work, but clarified that a replica of one’s voice alone does not seem to constitute copyright infringement.⁶¹ Because Part 1 of the Report provides little insight with respect to the potential vitality of such copyright claims and primarily focuses on legislative suggestions, the Office’s previous statements and approaches in similar technology-related contexts remain potentially revelatory.

While this inquiry is the Office’s most comprehensive look into AI, it is not the first time it has addressed AI. The Office addressed concerns about technology-generated works in 1965, especially after receiving an application for registration of a “musical composition created by a computer.”⁶² Although the issues posed by AI today are, in many respects, far more complex given the vast technological advancements in recent years, the general questions about how non-human-generated works fit or do not fit into copyright have been pondered for nearly six decades. The Office, in operating a copyright registration system, necessarily adjusts its practices according to shifts in technology.⁶³ In deciding whether to register a claim, a “registration specialist” is tasked with determining whether a work qualifies as copyrightable subject matter and satisfies the formal and legal requirements of the copyright statutes and the Office’s practices.⁶⁴ As such, the Office’s practices regarding what is registered generally reflect contemporary understandings of the scope of copyright law in light of modern developments.

The question of copyright protection for AI-generated works has notably been addressed in three recent situations. The first situation, which ripened into litigation, involved the Office’s denial of registration for “A Recent Entrance to Paradise,” an artwork created by an AI system, the “Creativity Machine,” which was listed as the author. The Office cited the lack of human authorship as its basis for denial, a requirement that derives from the statutory criteria that protection is extended only to “original works of authorship.”⁶⁵ While “original work of authorship” is not defined statutorily, courts have uniformly interpreted it to limit protection to human authors,⁶⁶ and the Office has adhered to that.⁶⁷ The Office also rejected the argument that AI can be an author under a “work-for-hire” theory.⁶⁸ The user challenged the denial as an “arbitrary, capricious, . . . abuse of discretion . . . not in accordance with the law, . . . and in excess of [the Office’s] statutory authority.”⁶⁹ The court upheld the denial, stating the lack of human involvement pointed to the “clear and straightforward answer” that it does not give rise to copyright.⁷⁰ This situation differs from a second scenario in which the Office registered “Zarya of the Dawn,” a comic book created using an AI system known as Midjourney.⁷¹ The images in the book were created by Midjourney in response to the user’s text prompts, but the user did not control the creation process; as such, the images themselves were not protectable based on the human authorship requirement, so copyright extended only to the text she wrote herself and the selection and arrangement of the elements of the book, including the images.⁷² The third situation involved the denial of copyright registration for an AI-generated artwork entitled “Théâtre D’opéra Spatial” based on the Office’s conclusion that it contained “more than a de minimis amount of content generated by [AI].”⁷³ The Office offered to register the work if the user would exclude AI-generated features, as there were some elements of human creation, but he refused and challenged that requirement; nonetheless, the Office stood by the requirement of disclosing AI-generation.⁷⁴

Due to situations like these,⁷⁵ the Office clarified how AI-generated works are examined and registered in a recent statement.⁷⁶ In the statement, the Office explains that in making registration decisions about works created using AI, the first question is whether the work is “basically one of human authorship, with the computer [or other device] merely being an assisting instrument,” or if a machine conceived and executed the traditional elements of human authorship.⁷⁷ The Office notes that when AI systems receive prompts from humans that enable the generation of “complex . . . musical works,” the author is the technology, not the prompt-writing human, so it would not be registered.⁷⁸ The Office states that there are cases in which AI is used in conjunction with sufficient human effort to permit registration. In such situations, copyright protects only human-authored elements.⁷⁹ While AI adds nuance to registration inquiries, an important takeaway is that the Office stands firmly behind the human authorship requirement.

II. LEGAL BACKGROUND: COPYRIGHT LAW

Codified in Title 17 of the United States Code, the Copyright Act of 1976 (“Copyright Act”), including its subsequent amendments, is the governing source of copyright law.⁸⁰ Congressional authority to enact such legislation arises from the “Copyright Clause” in the U.S. Constitution, which vests in Congress the power to “promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.”⁸¹ In the time since the enactment of the Copyright Act, there have been many amendments, resulting in a large body of law that simultaneously outlines rules and requirements with specificity and leaves considerable room for judicial interpretation.

A. Requirements for Protection

Under the Copyright Act, copyright “subsists . . . in original works of authorship fixed in any tangible medium of expression, now known or later developed, from which they can be perceived, reproduced, or otherwise communicated, either directly or with the aid of a machine or device.”⁸² Copyright does not extend to underlying ideas.⁸³ The Copyright Act explicitly includes “musical works, including any accompanying words” and “sound recordings.”⁸⁴ Generally, the requirements for copyright protection break down into four separate but interrelated requirements: (1) work of authorship, (2) tangible fixation, (3) originality, and (4) creativity.

Legislative history indicates that the phrase “work of authorship” is intended to provide flexibility.⁸⁵ The broad categories of works of authorship in § 102 of the Copyright Act are illustrative, not exclusive.⁸⁶ As mentioned, this requirement has been interpreted to require human authorship, but the Office’s recent statement suggests technology can be involved in the “authorship,” so long as there is sufficient human involvement.⁸⁷ A work satisfies the fixation requirement if it is fixed in a “tangible medium of expression” that is “sufficiently permanent or stable.”⁸⁸ Congress has indicated that fixation form does not matter.⁸⁹ A fixed composition may be written sheet music, while a fixed sound recording may be a recording saved onto a compact disc.⁹⁰

Fixed works of authorship must also satisfy the requirements of originality and creativity,⁹¹ which require “independent creation plus a modicum of creativity.”⁹² Therefore, so long as the work is independently created, a lack of novelty does not preclude copyright protection.⁹³ The “modicum of creativity” standard is a relatively low threshold, requiring only that the work goes beyond independent effort⁹⁴ and bears a “spark of distinctiveness in copyrightable expression.”⁹⁵

There are unique considerations with regard to these requirements in the context of musical works because determining the requisite creativity in music can be contentious.⁹⁶ Creativity is said to inhere in one of three key elements of a musical work—harmony, melody, or rhythm.⁹⁷ While the typical source of protection for compositions is melody, courts vary in this regard, with sufficient creativity being found and denied on each basis.⁹⁸ Protection for musical works includes “accompanying words” or lyrics;⁹⁹ when lyrics and musical elements are integrated into one work, they are protected together and on their own.¹⁰⁰ Lyrics must also satisfy the requirements for protection, and whether lyrics qualify for protection is very situation-dependent.¹⁰¹

B. Rights Conferred by Copyright Ownership

Section 106 of the Copyright Act outlines the exclusive rights of a copyright holder, which broadly include reproduction, distribution, adaptation, performance, and display rights.¹⁰² Actionable copying may pertain to infringement of any of these exclusive rights but must include infringement of at least one.¹⁰³ AI-generated music is most likely to implicate the reproduction, adaptation, and distribution rights.

Reproduction Right

The first exclusive right relevant to AI music is the right to “reproduce the copyrighted work in copies or phonorecords.”¹⁰⁴ In the music context, a USB with a sound recording would qualify as a phonorecord, while a written composition of the song, like sheet music, would be considered a copy.¹⁰⁵ To infringe on the reproduction right, the subsequent work must be a tangible, material, fixed object. An important music-specific caveat in 17 U.S.C. § 114 (“section 114”) is that the reproduction right in recordings is “limited to the right to duplicate the sound recording in . . . phonorecords or copies that directly or indirectly recapture the actual sounds fixed in the recording.”¹⁰⁶ This means that phonorecords with sounds that merely imitate the original sound, as opposed to actually recapturing the original sounds, do not infringe on the reproduction right, “even though such sounds imitate or simulate those in the copyrighted sound recording.”¹⁰⁷ This has been interpreted as precluding liability for substantially similar imitations of a recording absent any exact copying; this is important in the context of music sampling, as it requires proof of exact duplication.¹⁰⁸

Adaptation Right

Copyright owners also have the exclusive right to “prepare derivative works based upon the copyrighted work,” as well as to authorize others to do so.¹⁰⁹ A derivative work is one that must be “based upon one or more pre-existing works,” which is interpreted to mean that a latter work incorporates a sufficient amount of the original work to go beyond mere inspiration.¹¹⁰ The adaptation right is closely tied to the other exclusive rights, namely the reproduction and performance rights. When a work is deemed to be a derivative, there is a necessary implication that the reproduction or performance right was also infringed because the second work is substantially similar.¹¹¹ With respect to sound recordings, the right to produce derivative works is limited to those in which “actual sounds fixed in the sound recording are rearranged, remixed, or otherwise altered in sequence or quality.”¹¹² The independent fixation exclusion to the reproduction right also applies to the adaptation right.¹¹³ As with the reproduction right, this limitation finds notable importance in the realm of music sampling and licensing.¹¹⁴

Distribution Right

The third exclusive right relevant to music is the right to “distribute copies or phonorecords of the copyrighted work to the public by sale or other transfer of ownership.”¹¹⁵ To violate the distribution right, there must be a tangible product, whether a phonorecord or a copy. The distribution right in the music context involves the right to sell copies, like sheet music, and phonorecords, such as CDs, of the musical work to the public. In the context of Internet platforms, specifically music platforms for sharing sound recordings, there are questions as to whether making copyrighted works available to the public constitutes a violation of this right. Although courts have not unanimously agreed on the answer, it seems clear that making sound recordings available for download by the public on file sharing networks is likely sufficient to demonstrate infringement.¹¹⁶ Unlike the reproduction and adaptation rights, section 114 does not explicitly name the distribution right in limiting exclusive rights in a recording to exact copies; however, this is likely immaterial because a mere imitation of sounds in the original would seemingly fall outside the definition of the right as applying to distributing copies or phonorecords of the original work.¹¹⁷

C. Additional Music-Specific Considerations

1. Musical Composition Versus Sound Recordings

One unique aspect of music copyright is that there are two sources of protection in a song: the musical composition and the sound recording.¹¹⁸ These are considered distinct elements of a musical work, with each being independently copyrightable.¹¹⁹ While both elements are subject to the same requirements for protection, it is important to distinguish between the two, as the law applies differently to each in certain respects. This distinction plays an overall significant role in infringement actions, from whether something is actionable to what royalties are owed for a use.

While some cases have blurred the line between the composition and recording,¹²⁰ others reflect the importance of keeping them separate, as it is clear that determining applicable case law and potential arguments depends on whether the claim is based on recording or composition. Cases are also revelatory of how outcomes differ based on which element is allegedly infringed.¹²¹ Pertinent to this Note’s discussion, it is both possible and not necessarily uncommon for a work to infringe on the rights of ownership of the composition, but not the recording. Because infringement of the recording has been read to require actual duplication of sounds, a work that recreates but does not directly sample a guitar solo can infringe on the composition but give rise to no cause of action for infringement of the sound recording. Thus, this Note will continue to emphasize the line between these two elements, and how AI-generated music may or may not infringe on each.

Licensing and Sampling

Licensing and sampling are unique considerations in the music context. Licensing, whether it is compulsory and imposed by the Copyright Act or voluntarily negotiated,¹²² functions as a means of ensuring that owners are compensated for the use of their work. How licenses are obtained and what they allow a licensee to do depends on what aspect of the musical work is involved and who is seeking to license it. Central to the discussion in this Note, however, is the royalty aspect of licensing. Because the hypothetical uses analyzed in this Note did not involve licensing the songs, the artists did not receive compensation in royalty payments for these uses.

A very common practice in the music industry that potentially implicates the need for obtaining a license is sampling. “Sampling” refers to the practice of incorporating short segments of sound recordings into new recordings.¹²³ Typically, when the word sampling is used, it means there is a literal duplication of some portion of the original work, not merely an imitation.¹²⁴ Because sampling involves using a clip in an identical sounding way or with limited alterations, the issues presented by sampling usually fall under the substantial similarity inquiry.¹²⁵ Courts are divided on how to approach sampling, particularly with regard to whether applying the de minimis doctrine is appropriate. On one end of the spectrum, the Sixth Circuit in Bridgeport Music, Inc. v. Dimension Films held that sound recording owners have exclusive rights to sample their own recordings, which led to the strong recommendation to “[g]et a license or do not sample.”¹²⁶ This indicated a bright-line rule that any unauthorized use of the recording constitutes infringement, dispensing of the substantial similarity requirement as it pertains to sound recordings.¹²⁷ This view has been sharply criticized by many courts on the other end of the spectrum. Rejecting the Bridgeport view, the Ninth Circuit in VMG Salsoul, LLC v. Ciccone held that the de minimis doctrine extends to sound recordings, thereby necessitating the usual substantial similarity inquiry.¹²⁸ As such, the assessment of sampling in AI-generated music will differ based upon whether the court applies a sampling friendly or unfriendly approach.

D. Copyright Infringement Actions

To establish an actionable copyright infringement claim, the owner must prove the following: (1) they own a valid copyright and (2) there has been copying of the original expression contained therein.¹²⁹

Ownership of a Valid Copyright

As to the first requirement, valid copyright exists when an original work falls within the protectable subject matter of copyright law and adheres to statutory formalities, including fixation, duration, and national origin.¹³⁰ Additionally, registration of the work with the Office is typically a prerequisite for an infringement claim and serves as prima facie evidence of both a valid copyright and ownership thereof.¹³¹ The second prong, ownership, is a legal conclusion based on relevant facts;¹³² ownership is particularly important in the music context given the separation of the composition and recording. Once this is established, one can draw a conclusion as to which exclusive rights the owner has, which then form the basis of an infringement claim.

Copying

Despite extensive similarity, there can be no infringement without copying. Actionable copying must relate to protectable elements of the original work.¹³³ This requirement is best understood as consisting of two elements: factual copying and legal copying.¹³⁴ Factual copying poses a purely factual question: did the defendant know of the protected work, have access to it, and use it in some way in the production of their work?¹³⁵ To establish that the defendant actually copied the original, direct or indirect evidence may be used.¹³⁶ Absent direct proof, copying can be established circumstantially if the plaintiff can show the defendant “had access to the copyrighted material,”¹³⁷ and similarities exist between the works that are “probative of copying.”¹³⁸

Legal copying is often referred to as “improper appropriation” or “substantial similarity.”¹³⁹ Copying does not require verbatim replication of the original work, rather it requires that copying result in the production of a substantially similar work.¹⁴⁰ Experts describe the question of when similarity rises to the level of “substantial” as one of the toughest questions in copyright law.¹⁴¹ Similarity exists on a spectrum, spanning from the most trivial similarities, which are not actionable, to absolute, literal similarity that renders a second work identical. One approach to similarity divides it into two types: “comprehensive nonliteral similarity” and “fragmented literal similarity.”¹⁴² Comprehensive nonliteral similarity speaks to similarity in the “fundamental essence or structure” of a work. Fragmented literal similarity refers to duplication of literal elements of an original, but only in a fragmented manner, such as the exact duplication of only three lines of text. Fragmented literal similarity is often described as a de minimis doctrine, as the question gets at whether a use is de minimis or not.¹⁴³

Regardless of the type of similarity involved, courts imposed one additional barrier for copying of protected elements to be actionable: the copying must not be de minimis.¹⁴⁴ In the context of copyright, “de minimis copying” can be understood as the opposite of substantial similarity.¹⁴⁵ While the idea of de minimis copying sounds simple, its application is not necessarily straightforward because it is highly fact dependent. A de minimis determination pertains both to the quantity and quality of the use, therefore a “simple word count” is not alone enough to determine infringement.¹⁴⁶ In the music context, whether uses are deemed de minimis can vary greatly; in one instance, a six-second segment of a four-and-a-half-minute song was deemed a de minimis use,¹⁴⁷ but in another, a three-second orchestra sequence was not.¹⁴⁸

Courts have developed a wide variety of approaches to determine when similarity rises to the level of substantial in these types of cases. The three test categories that are most commonly used in similar music-related cases are the extrinsic-intrinsic, ordinary observer, and fragmented literal similarity tests.¹⁴⁹ While they each take slightly different approaches to determining the presence of substantial similarity, they are all ultimately rooted in the foundational question of whether there is similarity in those elements to which copyright protection would extend.

Fair Use Defense

Section 107 carves out a limitation on exclusive rights, commonly known as the fair use defense. Four factors are considered in determining whether a use is a fair use:

(1) [T]he purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of a commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes; (2) the nature of the copyrighted work; (3) the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole; and (4) the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.¹⁵⁰

While the Copyright Act dictates that these four factors “shall” be considered, how they have actually factored in has developed over time through judicial interpretation. The seminal case that guides all applications of the fair use defense is Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, Inc., a 1994 Supreme Court case that addressed a musical parody.¹⁵¹ The Court cautioned against simplifying the analysis to bright-line rules, emphasizing that fair use determinations must be done on a case-by-case basis, weighing each factor together.¹⁵² While the general principles from Campbell remain, the Supreme Court recently addressed fair use again in Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc. v. Goldsmith, in which the Court limited the fair use defense with regard to the first factor’s transformation inquiry.¹⁵³ This will likely have particular salience in infringement cases involving AI because AI is inherently transformative; however, this type of transformation may not hold as much weight under the new understanding of the first factor post-Goldsmith.

While fair use is regularly litigated in many copyright cases generally, musicians tend to avoid it.¹⁵⁴ This initially seems odd given that the seminal case for fair use, Campbell, involves music; but Campbell is really a parody case. Outside the context of parody,¹⁵⁵ Estate of Smith v. Cash Money Records, Inc., is the only federal case recognizing a songwriter’s fair use in copying another song.¹⁵⁶ While artist-defendants have pled fair use in their answers to infringement cases, they typically defend their work on other grounds.¹⁵⁷ A 2018 empirical study revealed that, up to that point, no defendant had successfully established a non-parody fair use of another work’s musical notes.¹⁵⁸ Therefore, how fair use will operate in this context will be somewhat speculative.

III. APPLICATION AND ANALYSIS

A. Sample Song A

Sample Song A is highly similar to “Heart on My Sleeve” by “Fake Drake.” While it sounds deceptively like Kanye West, both in the voice and in that it employs lyrics that intentionally evoke similar themes to his recent works, these similarities are highly unlikely to be cognizable under copyright law for several reasons. Rather than being copyright infringement, this Kanye-inspired song is almost certain to be considered what the courts have called a “soundalike.” But because songs like this have already been the source of contention regarding music and copyright, it is helpful to understand the basis for why this is unlikely to be a successful claim.

For the purposes of this application, it is assumed that there are valid copyrights for the songs from Yeezus that were used in creating Sample Song A, including “Black Skinhead.” It is also assumed that West owns the valid copyrights for both the sound recordings and underlying compositions.¹⁵⁹ Thus, the first requirement of a copyright infringement claim, ownership of a valid copyright, is presumed to be satisfied. This means that West is entitled to the exclusive rights outlined in the Copyright Act. Infringement of one of these rights must be the basis of his claim against User A, which presents just one of many road bumps in an attempted lawsuit based on this type of activity: copying as it relates to his voice or style can pertain only to the sound recording. As such, he is limited to claiming infringement on his right to reproduce, adapt, distribute, and perform the sound recording.¹⁶⁰

Factual Copying

Whether or not there is any possibility of an actionable claim will depend on the second requirement of copying, which is divided into two prongs: factual copying and legal copying. West’s claim would most likely have to rest on an infringement of a right associated with “Black Skinhead” specifically because satisfying the copying requirements for an entire album comprised of a variety of types of songs seems very unlikely. Turning first to factual copying, this prong asks the question of whether the defendant knew of, had access to, and in some way used the protected work in the production of their work. This requirement would seemingly be satisfied by the AI system’s owner, as the question could be answered by looking at the songs the system is trained on to produce work that sounds like West. However, it is likely more complicated when the infringer is merely the user who is not responsible for or involved with inputting data. While the prompt used by User A strongly suggests their desire and intent to use Yeezus and “Black Skinhead” in some way, it is not obvious whether this satisfies the factual copying requirement. This inquiry raises two key questions: can the use by Uberduck be imputed onto User A or can indirect evidence be used to sufficiently prove factual copying by User A themselves?

While it can arguably be assumed that Uberduck is trained on Yeezus and “Black Skinhead” given its option of West’s voice in the style of Yeezus, it cannot be verified for certain absent an admission from Uberduck’s programmer. However, this is not detrimental to a claim by West because factual copying can be proven using indirect evidence, which requires only demonstrating that defendant had access to the copyrighted work and that there are substantial similarities between the works that are “probative of copying.”¹⁶¹ While access cannot be demonstrated by showing a bare possibility that the defendant accessed it, a reasonable possibility of access can.¹⁶² Where these two key questions diverge is on how that possibility of access is demonstrated, whether it be access by the system imputed onto User A or access by User A themselves. Starting with the system, the offering of a Yeezus-style voice suggests a reasonable possibility of access to “Black Skinhead” for a few reasons. First, from a technological perspective, Uberduck utilizes DL, which alone requires significant amounts of data input for the system to learn; for a model to be able to replicate West’s voice from a specific album, it can be inferred that the whole album would have been used to provide as much learning material as possible to create the most authentic results. So-VITS-SVC, the specific DL model Uberduck uses to make songs that sound like West, involves a process of using relevant source audios of West to separate out his voice, which is then encoded to analyze and use the distinctive characteristics of his voice from those songs. Additionally, the HiFi-GAN model that Uberduck uses helps to train the generator to recognize authentic versus fake West samples until it can produce highly realistic-sounding speech.

Asserting that the voice can sound specifically like West in Yeezus, together with the technological understanding that this would require as much relevant training data as possible, it seems fair to conclude it is reasonably possible that the system had access to “Black Skinhead,” which is one of only ten songs on the album. Even considering the unlikely possibility that not all ten songs were used to create a Yeezus-inspired voice, it seems very reasonable to conclude that “Black Skinhead” would be used because it was the first single released from the album,¹⁶³ it has since been certified platinum in the United States three times, and West performed it repeatedly,¹⁶⁴ all of which arguably make it a hallmark of the Yeezus era.¹⁶⁵ It is difficult to imagine a Yeezus-style voice could be trained without the use of this song. Technology aside, access can also be shown through a theory of widespread dissemination,¹⁶⁶ and, for the reasons just stated, “Black Skinhead” was clearly widely disseminated. However, this theory of access is likely not applicable to the system itself outside the context of liability for input.

Having established a relatively strong claim of reasonably likely access, the next question turns on whether that access could be imputed onto User A. Courts have held that there was a reasonable possibility of access by the defendant in certain circumstances in which such access is inferred based on an “intermediary.”¹⁶⁷ One iteration of this theory of access is that access can be inferred if the intermediary or third party is connected to the copyright owner and the infringer.¹⁶⁸ Courts that have entertained this argument have varied on the relationship the intermediary must have with both parties, but a key characterization appears to be that it is a “close relationship,” which might be found when the intermediary contributes creative ideas to the infringer, supervises the infringer’s work, or has worked together in the same department as the infringer.¹⁶⁹ There are two wrinkles in trying to apply this argument here. First, most cases involve the intermediary being given the copyrighted work by the owner.¹⁷⁰ This is potentially less damaging because it still seems relevant whether the third party heard the song, as this also factors into the conclusions in addition to whether the intermediary was given a copy.¹⁷¹ Second, the relevant cases involving inferences based on intermediary access have involved a human intermediary.¹⁷² This may be particularly problematic for a plaintiff in a situation like West because it is hard to apply a framework of a close human relationship to the relationship between a computer program, a user, and input data. However, given the novelty of generative AI technology and the unique issues presented by generative AI music, there is a chance courts will not deem this fatal.

One reason to think courts may be flexible here is because of the expanded willingness to hold Internet intermediary sites vicariously or contributorily liable for failing to monitor infringing material available on or through the use of the Internet’s system.¹⁷³ While this speaks more to potential liability of the system as the sole infringer, it may still help convince a court to accept arguments based on non-traditional assistance in infringement, which is required here to first find the technology to have been an intermediary, and then impute liability onto a user. An indication that courts may be less likely to consider an AI system to be an intermediary turns on the assessment of AI in Thaler v. Perlmutter. As discussed, the court in Thaler emphasized the importance of human authorship for copyright protection.¹⁷⁴ The court rejected the plaintiff’s “work-for-hire” argument, which he used to suggest that he had hired the AI system to create the painting for him; the court rejected the argument for several reasons, but most importantly noted that such provisions of the Copyright Act clearly only contemplated the involvement of humans as employees and the contractual relationship outlined in the provision required a meeting of the minds that cannot occur with a non-human entity.¹⁷⁵ While again, this speaks to a different type of imputation onto technology, it nonetheless reflects a hesitancy to treat technology itself like a human. This provides good reason to question whether a court would find an AI system to be a sufficient intermediary to justify an inference of access.

Given that courts have at times expressed the need to be careful in imposing liability when infringement is not done directly,¹⁷⁶ it is worth considering the possibility that a court assessing generative AI may have trepidations about holding a user liable for infringement that may technically be executed through the complex algorithm of an AI system without any input from the user besides a brief prompt.¹⁷⁷ However, case law has consistently indicated that a finding of infringement is not dependent upon finding that the defendant intended to infringe.¹⁷⁸ As such, it seems unlikely that an individual could escape potential imputation of access by simply arguing they intended to use the system to create a new song, not to infringe on the copyright of another.

Assuming the inference of access could not be imputed onto User A by way of an intermediary theory, there remains the question of whether factual copying by User A can be proven through the same indirect evidence approach without any imputation or involvement of the AI system. As mentioned earlier, one avenue for demonstrating a reasonable probability of access is by pointing to widespread dissemination of the song, which certainly seems like an available option here.¹⁷⁹ This assertion is likely bolstered by the fact that User A clearly knew of Yeezus, as they selected the Yeezus style, and had to have been familiar with the album generally because of the themes in their prompt. These facts, in addition to the widespread dissemination of the song and selection of a rap beat and lyrical themes so similar to “Black Skinhead” form a strong basis for concluding there is a reasonable likelihood of access to the song by User A. The potential issue that could arise is that User A may argue that they were not involved in the creation aside from the prompt and the few general selections. They may try to argue that, even if they had heard the song, this would not matter because their awareness was not involved in the actual creation of the song or what it sounds like. Ultimately, this would likely come down to a determination of whether the selections and prompt constitute sufficient involvement in the creation, but it seems possible that it would be enough because User A did in fact direct Uberduck in a very pointed direction, even if they did so through simple or general means. Additionally, this is unlikely to be where West’s case completely crumbles, and User A has stronger, more important arguments in other areas.

Even if access is proven, the factual copying prong remains unsatisfied until West can demonstrate probative similarity. The probative similarity prong is likely much more straightforward in this case than the access prong. The idea behind probative similarity is that, combined with a reasonable probability of access, a level of similarity will give rise to a reasonable inference that the copyrighted work served as the source for the allegedly infringing work.¹⁸⁰ Determining the presence of probative similarity requires an examination of the two works as wholes to assess whether similarities are those which would not be expected to arise independently.¹⁸¹ An important difference between this inquiry and the legal inquiry of substantial similarity is that probative similarity is not limited to protectable elements, meaning the inquiry takes a holistic approach focused on drawing a historical conclusion as to whether the copyrighted work was the basis in some way for the second work.¹⁸² This could give West a small glimmer of hope because the songs may sound sufficiently similar when compared side-by-side, especially given that unprotectable elements of his style and voice can technically be considered. Because the song sounds like West and expresses themes common to “Black Skinhead” and Yeezus more generally, a jury looking holistically at the two songs may find the similarity to be probative of copying. The level of similarity required to satisfy this requirement is lower than that of substantial similarity, as West must show only that Sample Song A overall is similar to “Black Skinhead” in a way that would be unexpected had User A not had access to the original.¹⁸³ But this is an uncertain outcome because it ultimately comes down to the jury’s assessment of how the songs actually sound and is not dependent upon any legal criteria aside from the general rule of what probative similarity is. Although there is a chance West might prevail on factual copying by demonstrating access and probative similarity, it is likely short-lived because the legal copying inquiry remains.

Legal Copying

The end of the road for those like West who seek to vindicate their exclusive rights by legally challenging soundalikes almost certainly comes at the legal copying phase, if the claim even reaches that point. The substantial similarity prong of the copying requirement raises questions that a song like Sample Song A cannot satisfactorily answer. The chief problem here is that we are assuming the only real similarity is that it sounds like West’s voice or is sung in his distinctive style, neither of which are copyrightable elements of his work. The exclusion of voice and style from the scope of copyright protection was confirmed solidly in the well-known case Midler v. Ford Motor Co., in which Bette Midler lost on a claim of infringement based on a soundalike song that mimicked her voice almost exactly; the infringement claim relied solely on her voice, as the user had obtained rights to the song itself.¹⁸⁴ The Ninth Circuit stated bluntly that “voice[s] [are] not copyrightable,” as they are not fixed works of authorship as required by the Copyright Act.¹⁸⁵ While West may try to point to the similar themes, copyright extends only to expression and not ideas. Regardless of what test is used, when a work is substantially similar only in regard to separate, unprotectable elements, there can be no infringement. There are instances in which unprotectable elements together can form the basis of substantial similarity, but that would not be possible when two songs do not sound alike aside from the voice and general genre or theme. Absent some concrete similarity, such as instrumental interludes, phrases, or even lyrics, there can be no actionable substantial similarity. Section 114 of the Copyright Act likely blocks this type of claim, as it states that the reproduction and adaptation rights do not extend to independent fixations, even if the recording imitates a copyrighted recording.¹⁸⁶ Therefore, Sample Song A would not qualify as a derivative work because, as a mere imitation, it cannot infringe on the adaptation right.

While all signs point to dismissal, there are two potential unique considerations that may be worth discussing. First, there is the question of whether Sample Song A should be considered a reproduction and adaptation, even though it is not the exact same, because the exact song was used to train the outputs of the generative AI system. Technically, AI is trained to the point that it can create its own patterns, but ultimately those are still developed using the copyrighted work. In the case of Sample Song A and Uberduck, So-VITS-SVC isolates the artist’s voice, uses that voice to create and encode frequency bands that correspond to the distinctive characteristics of the voice in that audio, and then learns to make audio that uses those frequencies. There is potentially an argument that this is a literal reproduction of sounds in a way that should be separated from the intangible concept of a voice or style, and instead look at it like a remixed sample of audio of West’s voice.¹⁸⁷ Under this theory, not only could the use be an infringement of the reproduction and distribution right, but Sample Song A would also potentially qualify as a derivative work, as it is a new song based on parts of West’s recording in “Black Skinhead.”¹⁸⁸ If this were to be considered a sample, under the Bridgeport view, this would qualify as infringement without even delving into the substantial similarity inquiry.¹⁸⁹ However, this is far from the only approach to sampling. Likely, the question of substantial similarity will remain central to determining whether this use of sampling constitutes infringement. As already discussed, Sample Song A and “Black Skinhead” cannot be substantially similar because their chief “similarity,” West’s voice and style, is not a protectable element of the song, so it would not be able to serve as the sole basis for infringement under any of the judicial tests. The use of West’s vocal frequency bands would likely be deemed a de minimis use, which is a use in which “the average audience would not recognize the appropriation.”¹⁹⁰ It seems very unlikely that the average audience would recognize Sample Song A’s use of vocal frequency bands extracted from “Black Skinhead” and West’s other music, even though they might recognize that the voice generally sounds alike. This is certainly more complicated than an ordinary sampling inquiry because the use involves very small fragments used in very different ways; nonetheless, because the statutory language prohibits only that which is actually duplicated, the substantial similarity inquiry and de minimis interpretation would have to be based solely on those exact duplications of frequency bands. As such, if this is considered sampling, it would nonetheless likely be dismissed as a de minimis use.

However, even if the use is considered sampling, fair use will likely be an issue for West, whether or not the legal copying issue is addressed with a substantial similarity inquiry. If the sets of sounds from the source audio were actually sampled to make Sample Song A, they are fundamentally different because the frequencies inherently change when forming sounds that say different words. Therefore, if that could be considered an exact reproduction and adaptation of those sounds, it seems likely that a court would find that to be a fair use. While Goldsmith instructed the transformation inquiry to be reined in, this type of use is undeniably transformative in a way similar to the code transformed in Google LLC v. Oracle America, Inc.¹⁹¹ While the basis for the sound of West’s voice, the frequencies, were used, they were manipulated and restructured to such a significant degree, as evidenced by the creation of an entirely new set of lyrics rapped. This is comparable to the reverse engineering of object code in Sega Enterprises Ltd. v. Accolade, Inc., in which the Ninth Circuit found reverse engineering in order to transform code into something entirely new to be a fair use.¹⁹² In Sega, the court rejected the argument that a use in order to create competing products precludes a fair use finding, and emphasized the need to focus on several factors, including but not limited to commercial purposes; there, the use of copyrighted code was to understand the program’s mechanisms and then create something entirely new that would be compatible with the program, which outweighed its purpose of creating an ultimately commercial product.¹⁹³ Here, the decoding of songs into frequency bands could be understood as an attempt to understand why West’s voice sounds the way it does, and the subsequent use of such frequency bands to say new words and make an entirely new song is a transformative purpose sufficient to count toward a fair use. While User A likely hoped their song would achieve commercial success, that does not negate the transformative purpose behind their use of frequency bands from West’s music. Thus, the first fair use factor leans strongly in favor of the user.

As to the second factor, the nature of the work, West’s music is inherently creative, which tends to count against fair use.¹⁹⁴ However, this is often not the most significant factor, and courts have not refused to find a fair use in situations involving creative works.¹⁹⁵ The third factor, amount and substantiality used, counts very strongly in favor of fair use. Vocal frequency bands constitute a very small amount of everything that goes into a song. Considering that all other elements, including instrumentals and lyrics, are entirely different, the use of frequency bands is a minor taking from the original, although West may try to argue that whole songs, presumably including “Black Skinhead,” were encoded. In Sega, in which the entire program was encoded, the court noted that while that fact counts against fair use, the factor is of little weight when the actual use of that information is so limited.¹⁹⁶ Here, certainly not all of that which is encoded is used. What was encoded was a sufficient amount of frequency bands to analyze and understand vocal characteristics for future imitations;¹⁹⁷ while this may have involved a large number of frequency bands, that was what was required to serve the ultimately transformative purpose of creating a high-quality song that did not itself utilize all that was encoded for training purposes.¹⁹⁸ Because the third fair use factor asks about substantiality as well, there is an opening for West to try to argue that, even if frequency bands are one small part of a song, they are nonetheless substantial in relation to the whole work because they are responsible for creating his distinctive voice. This argument would face a few barriers, the first being that it is completely acceptable to make a song that simply sounds like someone else. Additionally, he may have a more compelling argument if those vocal frequencies were placed together and used to rap lyrics from one of his songs. But the frequency bands themselves, isolated from the other bands that together create his voice, are hardly the “heart” of his original work, especially with how they have been changed in Sample Song A.¹⁹⁹

The fourth fair use factor, the effect on the market, has received limited attention in the context of music. However, in Frisby v. Sony Music Entertainment, the court noted that two songs in the similar genres of rap and hip-hop were marketplace competitors.²⁰⁰ As competitors, one copying the other could reasonably be expected to diminish the value and sales of the original.²⁰¹ Here, Sample Song A and “Black Skinhead” are certainly in the same genre, so they may properly be considered competitors in the music market. Following the line of reasoning in Frisby, this means it can be assumed that Sample Song A would have a negative impact on the value of “Black Skinhead” and, further, would harm the market for derivatives because it was used without a license.²⁰² Because sampling is so prevalent in the rap and hip-hop genres, this is particularly relevant here; West may argue that finding this a fair use would set the precedent that following proper sampling procedures is unnecessary. However, the facts here separate this case from that of Frisby because the potential sampling that occurred could have easily gone unnoticed absent the knowledge that it was created using an AI system that had encoded these vocal frequencies. To suggest that this use of “Black Skinhead” would have such a chilling effect on licensing in the industry seems to be taking Frisby’s presumptions too far.

Taking all four factors together, it seems that the highly transformative purpose and minimal amount used may be enough to weigh in favor of finding this to be a fair use, especially in light of the highly speculative arguments about market harm given that this does not involve sampling in the traditional sense. However, because the fourth factor is “undoubtedly the single most important element of fair use,”²⁰³ it is possible that if a court adopts the view that sampling without a license has such an impact on the market for future derivatives, the fourth factor could be enough to compel the finding that this is not fair use. Of course, this would be a judicial determination, so it is not impossible that a court would accept these arguments, but it does not seem overly promising at this point. Given how courts have viewed voice and style thus far, it seems like a stretch to imagine the argument that vocals are really just compilations of protectable sounds would suddenly work because of the technology involved.

The second consideration is that some may believe Williams v. Gaye opened the opportunity to argue style infringement. While the dissenting opinion in Gaye criticized the majority’s conclusion as endorsing the idea of copyright protection for a musical style,²⁰⁴ the bases for infringement included elements like signature phrases, hooks, and structural similarities.²⁰⁵ These were similarities that, although alone may not have been protected, together led to substantial enough similarity that a jury concluded rights had been infringed. While these elements could be considered aspects of the plaintiff-artist’s style, they clearly went beyond sounding like a voice. Additionally, Gaye focused on the composition, whereas Sample Song A’s mimicking of West’s voice could only speak to infringement of the recording because the alleged similarities relate only to what the vocals sound like, which is not fixed on a page like the phrases in Gaye. Putting aside the differences between Sample Song A and the infringing song in Gaye, a key weakness in West’s style argument and whether Gaye made that argument an option is that this idea has not been embraced by other courts. While some courts have embraced a “total concept and feel” test for substantial similarity, both on its own and as part of an “intrinsic” test,²⁰⁶ that test requires at least a claim based on original arrangement of unprotected elements.²⁰⁷ Without some protectable element, whether it be lyrics or a drum beat,²⁰⁸ a similar “feeling” song will not pass a substantial similarity test.²⁰⁹ Here, even if a lay person has an initial reaction that the songs sound similar because the voice mimics West, that, again, is not copyrightable. Given that there are no elements of the instrumental track or lyrics to be the basis of this claim because these are original lyrics and a generic rap beat unlike “Black Skinhead,” the mimicking of his voice is the only thing West could point to and that cannot pass the test. Therefore, even if Gaye introduced a way to litigate style infringement, which is debatable given other courts’ avoidance of such a conclusion, it appears that there must be some sort of protectable expression in that style to base one’s claim on. While West’s voice may evoke a certain aesthetic style and certainly speaks to his creative expression, there is nothing in that expression that can be the source of a successful claim here.

None of this discussion is intended to denigrate the frustration on the part of West and similarly situated artists who understandably want to fight back against AI-generated songs that intentionally mimic their voices and do so in a way that misleads listeners. This certainly reflects Drake’s perspective in response to “Heart on My Sleeve,” which nearly duped the world.²¹⁰ However, these valid concerns do not bear a clear or logical connection to copyright law and its subject matter. Instead, these concerns likely find more coherence in the protections afforded by the laws relating to trademark, unfair competition, and state rights of publicity, which are tailored to protect against the unauthorized use of one’s identity.²¹¹ This is not to suggest that such claims are certain to be successful, or even actionable, but the aims of those laws, which includes protecting identity, are likely more amenable to the concerns of West and others.²¹²

B. Sample Song B

Unlike Sample Song A, Sample Song B presents questions of infringement that, on their face, seem more likely to be answerable with copyright law. While Sample Song B also seems to generally mimic Adele’s style in “Someone Like You,” it importantly incorporates more than that, particularly by way of a nearly identical melodic hook. As with Sample Song A, it is assumed that Adele owns a valid copyright in both the sound recording and the musical composition of “Someone Like You.”²¹³ Accordingly, Adele would have a potential claim for infringement upon her rights of reproduction, adaptation, distribution, and performance. With valid ownership established, the inquiry begins with the copying requirement as it pertains to the composition.

Factual Copying

The trajectory for proving factual copying is much clearer for Sample Song B. On MuseNet, User B specifically selected the introduction from “Someone Like You” by Adele, and that introduction, though slightly modified, is present from the starting note of Sample Song B. If admitted or witnessed, this would constitute direct evidence of factual copying. However, direct proof is often unavailable because “[p]lagiarists rarely work in the open.”²¹⁴ Nonetheless, it seems very likely that indirect evidence would satisfy this requirement. Regarding access, the theory of widespread dissemination would operate well here. When dealing with songs that have gained notable popularity, plaintiffs have tended to invoke a variety of data points to support theories of widespread dissemination including references to airplay frequency and locations, billboard charts, certifications, record sales, nominations and awards, and royalty revenues.²¹⁵ Here, Adele will be able to construct a very convincing claim of widespread dissemination because she can invoke all of these data points with regard to “Someone Like You”: the song has been streamed over two billion times on Spotify alone;²¹⁶ won several awards, including a Grammy;²¹⁷ was certified platinum five times in the United States;²¹⁸ and is the twenty-fifth-best-selling song of all time in the United Kingdom.²¹⁹ Occasionally, widespread dissemination arguments are accompanied by theories of subconscious copying, which speak to the fact that copyright infringement does not have a scienter requirement.²²⁰ User B did, in fact, see on MuseNet that the intro was “Someone Like You,” suggesting this was not subconscious copying. However, the leeway to argue that the use did not need to be with full knowledge of the circumstances may be help Adele’s case; at a minimum, if User B does not admit selecting the intro, they cannot invoke a willful blindness-type argument. Therefore, an attempt to rebut the argument of widespread dissemination is unlikely to be persuasive.

As discussed with Sample Song A, substantial probability of access usually needs to be accompanied by probative similarity to successfully prove factual copying with indirect evidence. However, there are instances in which the probative similarity is convincing enough that it alone can satisfy the copying requirement. This is often referred to as “striking similarity,” and it arises when the similarity is so extensive that it is “effectively impossible for one to have arisen independently of the other.”²²¹ In analyzing striking similarity in music, it has been held that degree of similarity cannot pertain only to the quantity of identical notes, but must also look to the uniqueness and intricateness of the similar aspects and the places in which the two are dissimilar.²²² Oftentimes, because of how high the bar is set for striking similarity, expert testimony is needed when the subject matter is as highly technical as music. Here, while the melodic hook created by the use of an arpeggio is very recognizable and may seem unique to “Someone Like You,” the use of arpeggios generally is common.²²³ While there seems to be a possibility that, with the help of an expert, Sample Song B could be found strikingly similar to “Someone Like You,” the high bar for such a determination, coupled with the infrequency of successful arguments for striking similarity, makes it reasonable to assume that the normal requirements of access and probative similarity will need to be met; this is not damaging for Adele’s claim, as those are almost certainly provable.

Assuming striking similarity is not found, the indirect evidence just needs to show probative similarity. Comparing the two works side-by-side, protected and unprotected elements alike, a factfinder could certainly conclude that “Someone Like You” was the basis, at least in part, for Sample Song B. This holistic comparison would likely highlight the nearly identical melodic hook, which consists of arpeggiated chords and underlies the distinctive harmony, along with the general similarities in terms of the theme and vocal range. While the use of an arpeggio is not itself uncommon and could occur absent copying, the distinctive chord progression, melody, and harmony created in Sample Song B is similar in all the ways that make the instrumental portion of “Someone Like You,” so memorable and impactful. While remaining careful about maintaining the distinction between probative and substantial similarity, there is likely enough similarity to be probative of copying; whether that similarity is substantial in a legal sense remains to be addressed.

Legal Copying

Substantial similarity is thought of as existing on a spectrum, thereby requiring close examination to attempt to identify the line between trivial similarities and actionable improper appropriation. Here, Adele’s infringement action would allege both comprehensive nonliteral and fragmented literal similarity. The most obvious claim is that of literal similarity with regard to the piano phrase, which functions as a melodic hook, because it is reproduced nearly identically in Sample Song B. A potentially important note is that an arpeggio would appear on the sheet music for a composition because it is notated to guide the playing of chord progressions.²²⁴ Further, the use of an arpeggio is key here because it melodizes the chords being used, which tends to then be an important aspect of the resulting harmony; thus, it is potentially very significant to the substantial similarity analysis because arpeggios may take harmony into the protectable range of copyright law.²²⁵ As for nonliteral similarity, this is a situation in which the nonliteral similarity may be characterized as comprehensive; both songs are played in common time, have a somber, emotional sound, and nearly identical lyrical themes, although they are different on a word-for-word basis. As noted, courts use different tests for determining substantial similarity. While these tests are similar in many ways and may yield similar results, the most thorough prediction of how a song like Sample Song B will fare against infringement allegations must consider the nuances of each. Expert testimony is almost always used to help guide complex questions of infringement in music, so any conclusions are subject to elaboration or criticism by a technical expert.

Before applying any of the tests, it is an appropriate moment to address the doctrine of de minimis copying. Because a determination that a use is de minimis negates the need for a full substantial similarity inquiry, courts often address this “defense”²²⁶ at the outset. De minimis copying essentially means there is a lack of substantial similarity, so the conclusion that a use is de minimis generally arises when “the average audience would not recognize the appropriation.”²²⁷ It is important to keep this concept separate from that of characterizing an element as de minimis itself, such as saying that one note is de minimis and not protectable. As the inverse of substantial similarity, the de minimis inquiry similarly must consider the quantitative and qualitative importance of a use because both get at what an ordinary listener would find substantial. Essentially, the inquiry here would follow the same steps as the fragmented literal similarity test, as that test is viewed as a de minimis doctrine.²²⁸ Because the details of those steps will be discussed in detail in applying the fragmented literal similarity test,²²⁹ they need not be laid out here, largely because it seems unlikely that a court would deem the copying here to be de minimis. The focus of this inquiry is on how much of the original was used or copied; the piano phrase is repeated throughout most of “Someone Like You,” so it seems highly likely an audience would recognize the appropriation. Given that the phrase constitutes a quantitatively large part of the original and arguably has significant qualitative importance because the piano is intentionally the only instrument to create a particular feeling, the phrase opens the song instrumentally, and it may be seen as the song’s backbone, a determination that this use is de minimis copying seems unlikely. Thus, it is appropriate to analyze potential outcomes under each of the substantial similarity tests.

i. Extrinsic-Intrinsic Test

The extrinsic-intrinsic test is a two-prong test. The extrinsic prong is the objective prong and requires identifying concrete elements of expression that are similar.²³⁰ Because this test is part of a substantial similarity inquiry, the dissection of elements involves identifying those that are and are not protected by copyright. Music often presents a more complicated case for analysis because, unlike books and films, it cannot easily be classified into a few protectable and unprotectable elements;²³¹ thus, courts applying the extrinsic prong have looked to a wide variety of elements, including title hooks, lyrics, melodies, chord progression, pitch, instrumentation, accents, and basslines.²³² The combination of these expressive elements can be protected by copyright and often form the basis of claims involving instrumental phrases.²³³ Therefore, it can be helpful to think of the first question as relating to separating protectable elements or compilations of elements, and the second question as analyzing those elements to determine whether they are objectively substantially similar. In Skidmore v. Led Zeppelin, the district court concluded on a summary judgment motion that there was sufficient extrinsic similarity for the issue to go to the jury; the basis for such similarity focused on a “repeated A-minor descending chromatic bass lines lasting [thirteen] seconds” that appeared within the first two minutes of both songs and was arguably the “most recognizable and important segments of the respective works.”²³⁴ Additionally, the “harmonic setting” of the sections used the same chords.²³⁵ The court concluded that even though a “descending chromatic four-chord progression” is common, the placement in the song, pitch, and recognizability make it appropriate for analysis under the extrinsic test.²³⁶ Ultimately, however, the jury concluded that, despite the combination of objective similarities, the songs were not extrinsically similar. The jury reached a different conclusion in Three Boys Music Corp. v. Bolton, in which the jury found substantial extrinsic similarity in the compilation of five unprotectable elements.²³⁷

Here, Adele could likely make an argument similar to that of the plaintiffs in both Skidmore and Three Boys Music, arguing that although arpeggiating chords to achieve certain melodic or harmonic goals is not uncommon, the very same chord progression starts both songs without lyrical accompaniment, is repeated several times in both songs at the same pitch, and is “arguably the most recognizable and important”²³⁸ part of each work; invoking the device that made the Three Boys Music plaintiffs successful, Adele would want to emphasize that it is the compilation of expressive elements that form the basis of actionable extrinsic similarity. While the knowledge that MuseNet took the actual intro from “Someone Like You,” and used generative AI to make “predictions” for the rest of the song according to prompts suggests objective similarity of these elements, expert testimony would still be helpful and needed to confirm which elements are really present in Sample Song B; for example, there may be subtle note differences that do not necessarily make the song sound different, but are objective differences, nonetheless.²³⁹ This conclusion is ultimately a question of fact requiring technical breakdown by an expert to evaluate the compilation of expressive elements, including those that are part of the melodic hook, for originality. Based on this analysis, a jury can make an informed determination as to whether these elements are sufficiently original to be protected, and if so, whether Sample Song B is substantially similar with regard to that protected expression. Assuming an expert can corroborate the objective similarity that appears to exist, there seems to be a strong case against User B as it pertains to the extrinsic prong. This is especially true in light of cases in which experts found extrinsic similarity in hooks and signature phrases,²⁴⁰ as well as those that emphasized compilations as sufficient for extrinsic similarity.²⁴¹ Within this framework, the copied melodical hook—consisting of the same or at least similar chord progressions, use of arpeggio, pitch, and harmony—coupled with the prominence and similar repetition in both songs, sets up a strong claim for extrinsic similarity.

Importantly in the context of AI-generated music, Adele may want to point to the fact that the song is “in her style” and that the voice sounds very similar to hers. As discussed with Sample Song A, however, courts have been very reluctant to recognize copyright in a style or someone’s voice. Especially in the case of Sample Song B—which is even closer to what has been identified as a soundalike in past cases, as Adele’s voice is not being used at all—it is at most an imitation of her voice type, and thus it seems unlikely that this part of the similarity between the songs could be actionable itself.²⁴² However, this similarity may work to Adele’s benefit under the intrinsic test.

If satisfied, the extrinsic test must be followed by an intrinsic test, which is the subjective prong that puts aside analytical dissection in favor of taking the approach of a reasonable listener. The intrinsic test asks whether ordinary listeners would find the “total concept and feel of the works to be substantially similar.”²⁴³ A jury may find substantial similarity from an overall view, even when individual similarities alone seem trivial.²⁴⁴ This may be important for Adele’s case because the similarity technically boils down to a few chords and how they are played. However, the impact of the arrangement resulted in an internationally recognized piano phrase, as well as a melody and harmony that have been highly successful in conveying a message. In both songs, the phrase starts at the first second, plays without lyrics initially, and repeats after the chorus. While there are some differences in instrumental content and lyrics, a jury could subjectively find that the repeated phrase is substantial. The ordinary listener would likely also find subjective similarity in the combination of those instrumental choices and thematically similar lyrics, suggesting that the songs genuinely evoke similar meanings. In a subjective analysis of the total concept and feel, the similar-sounding vocals may potentially factor in, particularly because both songs are sung by mezzo-sopranos. However, this is unlikely to be the most salient reason for finding intrinsic similarity because mezzo-soprano is the most common female singing voice, and the intrinsic test assumes an untrained ear who would likely attribute the similarity to the unremarkable fact that both vocalists sound feminine, rather than recognizing the specific vocal range.²⁴⁵ Nonetheless, it seems reasonable to conclude that the songs are substantially similar overall. But because the ordinary listener is supposed to truly reflect an ordinary person with no music expertise, it could also go the other way. While the hook phrase is distinctive and impactful, a jury could conclude that in Sample Song B, because of the variation in the accompaniment aside from the phrase, it is not as salient, therefore finding that the works holistically lack the requisite similarity. This ultimately speaks to the challenging nature of anticipating intrinsic analysis results, as the conclusions depend on unknown variables and subjective judgments. Courts consistently reiterate that they will not question the jury’s intrinsic conclusions, therefore there is less to rely on by way of case law because it is not judges who engage in this inquiry.²⁴⁶

The extrinsic-intrinsic test has been criticized for lack of clarity as to both prongs. As will also be discussed with aspects of the following tests, the “total concept and feel” approach seems to conflict with copyright law’s very specific intent to protect original expressions rather than ideas or commonplace expressions of ideas.²⁴⁷ Assuming this test remains in use, however, it may be the approach applied in the litigation of User B. Without knowing the quality of potential expert testimony, it is hard to predict with certainty the outcome. However, case law does suggest that the type of elements that were copied could, if framed as a compilation, satisfy the extrinsic test because there are clearly musical elements that are objectively the same. As for the intrinsic test, the subjective conclusions of the factfinder will ultimately determine the outcome; however, the prominence of the copied phrase, as well as the concept and feel of the emotional ballads, suggest that a jury could potentially find the songs to be substantially similar.

ii. Ordinary Observer Test

The ordinary observer test asks “whether defendant took from plaintiff’s works so much of what is pleasing to the ears of lay listeners, who comprise the audience for whom such popular music is composed, that defendant wrongfully appropriated something which belongs to the plaintiff.”²⁴⁸ Here, because there are similarities between protectable and unprotectable elements, the test will probably be more discerning. In conducting the more discerning inquiry, courts are to try to extract the unprotectable elements and ask whether the remaining protectable elements are substantially similar.²⁴⁹ Protectable elements may either be completely original or original contributions by way of selection, coordination, or arrangement.²⁵⁰ For Adele, this would likely mean focusing on the original selection, coordination, and arrangement of the piano phrase itself and its function in the song through repetition. Once those elements are identified, the factfinder will look to the total concept and feel, focusing on whether the defendant misappropriated the original aspects of the copyright owner’s work. While the original formulation of the ordinary observer test in Arnstein v. Porter references the intended audience, that factor has not typically played a large role and is usually understood to mean the lay listener.²⁵¹ Because the emphasis is almost entirely on total concept and feel, whether MuseNet made minor, audibly imperceptible changes to the phrase may be less important than in the extrinsic inquiry of the extrinsic-intrinsic test.²⁵²

The analysis of Sample Song B under an ordinary observer test will likely resemble the analysis in New Old Music Group, Inc. v. Gottwald.²⁵³ In New Old Music, the infringement claim was based on a drum part consisting of a single measure, which was repeated throughout the allegedly infringing work, ultimately accounting for eighty-three percent of the original work.²⁵⁴ The defendant argued that the individual elements were not sufficiently original to be protected, but the court held that the totality of the drum part could suffice as copyrightable based on its original selection, coordination, and arrangement.²⁵⁵ A reasonable juror in New Old Music could have concluded that the use of the drum part, which could be seen as the original song’s “backbone,” took so much of “what is pleasing to the ears of lay listeners, . . . that [the] defendant wrongfully appropriated something” from the plaintiff.²⁵⁶ Here, the repeated piano phrase could be described as the backbone of “Someone Like You,” and be protected as a unique and original arrangement despite the unoriginality of any individual note. Analyzing the total concept and feel of both songs, a reasonable jury could likely conclude User B substantially misappropriated Adele’s original compilations and thereby infringed on her copyright.

Because this test relies on subjective judgments, the outcome could go the other way. A jury could conclude that the piano phrase and its arrangement were not original,²⁵⁷ or that it is a de minimis aspect of the work²⁵⁸ and therefore the similarity does not pertain to what lay listeners deem pleasing in “Someone Like You.” This was the case in Velez v. Sony Discos, in which the combination of eight-measure phrases was a structure widely used and therefore not original to the plaintiff’s song, and also constituted de minimis aspects of the original song.²⁵⁹ Sample Song B differs from the allegedly infringing song in Velez in that, aside from that structure of phrases, the song was not otherwise similar to the original in melody, harmony, or lyrics;²⁶⁰ Sample Song B, on the other hand, can be alleged to infringe on the arrangement of piano phrases, as well as the resulting melody and harmony that is affected by other expressive choices like arpeggiating the chords. Because of these similarities, it seems likely that a jury could find for Adele under the ordinary observer test, assuming expert testimony does not exclude the possibility of originality.

A key reason the ordinary observer test, discerning or traditional, comes under criticism is that it asks a factfinder to simultaneously separate protectable elements for careful examination and determine substantial similarity based solely on the total concept and feel.²⁶¹ Additionally, ordinary listeners’ impressions regarding whether copying has occurred do not necessarily prove that a violation of the Copyright Act has taken place. These shortcomings could affect Adele’s case against User B in two opposing ways. On one hand, the meticulous separation of protectable elements before conducting a net effect-type of analysis might lead the jury to conclude that what they are merely dealing with individual phrases. Focusing too closely on the individual phrases, as opposed to the whole arrangement, might cause this similarity to be overlooked in a total concept and feel inquiry. If, however, the jury recognizes the arrangement as the “backbone” of the song, this could lessen the issue. Further, in focusing on the total concept and feel, a jury might unintentionally be overinclusive when the vibe of the songs is as similar as “Someone Like You” and Sample Song B. If anything, this emphasizes the importance of expert testimony regarding the originality, or lack thereof, of the elements—whether on their own or as a compilation—to guide the jury before their total concept and feel analysis.

iii. Fragmented Literal Similarity Test

The last test is the fragmented literal similarity test, which has less applicable case law. This test focuses on “localized” similarity based on the idea that identifiable fragments of identical or nearly identical expression should be the basis for an infringement action.²⁶² As such, the substantial similarity question under this test turns on whether the copying involves trivial or substantial elements of the original work, which is determined by quantitative and qualitative assessments.²⁶³ Most cases specifically addressing fragmented literal similarity involve lyrics, so the qualitative significance of instrumental phrases is less explored. However, when considering the qualitative importance of instrumental phrases outside the context of fragmented literal similarity, it has been recognized that small sections can have great qualitative import, such as the four-note opening melody in Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.²⁶⁴ Here, the specific piano phrase appears at the first second of “Someone Like You,” initially without lyrics for about fourteen seconds; the same phrase continues through nearly three and a half minutes of the song, although there are some additional notes played and volume changes.²⁶⁵ Quantitatively, this is clearly significant. In TufAmerica, Inc. v. Diamond, the court determined that a “distinctive orchestra sequence” from the original song that was about three seconds and consisted of “a series of five punchy ascending chords” was quantitatively significant given that it was repeated seventeen times to ultimately constitute about fifteen percent of the song.²⁶⁶ While a musical expert would need to confirm the actual length of time the phrase appears in original form in “Someone Like You,” it certainly seems to exceed that threshold. The qualitative importance also seems convincing given that the piano is the only instrument, the phrase opens the song instrumentally, making it very recognizable, and the phrase continues with only slight alterations, thereby functioning as a common thread through the whole work. Under this test, it seems highly likely Adele would prevail.

However, this test seems least likely to apply. First, it is not as commonly used as the other tests. Second, there is much more at issue than just fragmented literal similarity, especially considering that the desire to legally target Sample Song B likely has as much to do with the fact that User B used AI to create a song that intentionally sounds like Adele as it has to do with the use of the phrase; “local” and “global” similarity are expected concerns for artists whose works are pirated by AI. Third, the fact that the phrase is slightly sped up and may contain slight differences due to how it was generated suggests the other tests may be better suited for this case.

User B’s final opportunity to argue that their conduct falls within the bounds of the Copyright Act without constituting infringement is by asserting the fair use defense. Because the same analysis likely applies to User B’s use of the recording as well, the fair use discussion below addresses both components of the song together.

The Sound Recording

The analysis thus far has focused on the composition. Infringement of the sound recording of “Someone Like You” requires a literal duplication of the recording.²⁶⁷ Based on the language of the Copyright Act, whether the rights in the recording have been infringed depends entirely on how MuseNet creates music using introductions from existing songs:

(a) The exclusive rights of the owner of copyright in a sound recording are limited to the rights specified by [the] clauses [pertaining to the reproduction, adaptation, distribution, and the public performance by digital audio transmission rights] . . . . (b) The exclusive right of the owner of copyright in a sound recording under [the reproduction right] is limited to the right to duplicate the sound recording in the form of phonorecords or copies that directly or indirectly recapture the actual sounds fixed in the recording. The exclusive right of the owner of copyright in a sound recording under [the adaptation right] is limited to the right to prepare a derivative work in which the actual sounds fixed in the sound recording are rearranged, remixed, or otherwise altered in sequence or quality.²⁶⁸

MuseNet trains on MIDI files, which capture data that can be seen as a “symbolic representation of music.”²⁶⁹ Essentially, a MIDI file records data about the notes in a song, including pitch, volume, and time nodes, which can then instruct the reproduction of musical compositions.²⁷⁰ Importantly, MIDI files are not audio recordings and cannot transmit audio.²⁷¹ This means that, unlike Uberduck, MuseNet technically never even “hears” the sound recording; it only trains on the computer language that indicates how the composition is played. Therefore, a MIDI file of “Someone Like You” could not possibly result in exact duplication of the protected recording being used in Sample Song B because the recording itself is not transmitted. This information alone suggests that User B cannot be liable for infringement of the sound recording of “Someone Like You,” and Adele would have to rely on allegations of infringement of the composition as discussed earlier.

While the literal language of the statute suggests that copying using a MIDI file is not an actionable infringement of the recording, a more in-depth inquiry as to whether this is so black-and-white is warranted considering that many AI music generators train on MIDI files. The starting point for this inquiry is legislative intent. The Digital Performance Right in Sound Recordings Act of 1995 (“DPRA”) created an exclusive performance right for sound recordings, specifically granting the right to perform by “means of a digital audio transmission.”²⁷² In doing so, section 114 was also amended to add the relevant limitations on the performance right. The House Report accompanying the DPRA explicitly states that the right applies only to digital audio transmissions, which is consistent with the language of section 114 concerning reproduction and adaptation rights.²⁷³ Additionally, it specifies that a “digital phonorecord delivery” refers to the delivery of a recording by digital transmission.²⁷⁴ From this, it is clear that while the rights associated with sound recordings were expanded to adapt to technological developments, they were not explicitly extended beyond the transmission of the actual recording. However, the House Report does note that because the bill does not “precisely anticipate particular technological changes,” they intend that the rights, exemptions, and limitations created should be interpreted to “achieve their intended purposes.”²⁷⁵ This is at least suggestive of the understanding that the language may not be precise enough to cover all technologies and potential infringements. In 2018, Congress passed the Musical Works Modernization Act with the intent of updating copyright law to increase fairness for creators regarding statutory licensing.²⁷⁶ While this points to an ongoing concern about protecting artists in the advent of technological innovation, it does not change how digital transmission is defined. Legislative intent seems to indicate that Congress’s focus is to protect the actual sound recording. However, the concern about the future evolution of technology nonetheless remains relevant.

The Office has also provided some perspective on MIDI files and the sound recording requirement. As of 2021, the Office “does not consider standard [MIDI] files to be phonorecords and will not register a copyright claim in a sound recording contained in a standard [MIDI] file.”²⁷⁷ The Office elaborates that, because MIDI files do not capture sounds and only capture the underlying score, they are insufficiently fixed to be copyrighted as sound recordings, though they may suffice for musical works.²⁷⁸ While this does not directly address MIDI files in the context of infringement, this is clear evidence that the Office is aware of how MIDI files operate in the music context and continues to view them as fundamentally different from sound recordings. If the Office does not consider MIDI files to be fixations of the recording itself, it is a difficult argument to suggest it should constitute a sound recording for the purposes of infringement.

Case law does not seem to have addressed this issue directly. However, there is a wealth of judicial interpretation of section 114 and what is meant by the requirement that sound recordings be duplicated to qualify as infringement.²⁷⁹ This conclusion aligns with the language of the statute and its intended purpose. Therefore, even if Sample Song B sounds like it was sampled, current interpretations of the Copyright Act would instruct a court to conclude that Sample Song B did not infringe on Adele’s exclusive rights in the sound recording of “Someone Like You.” Undeniably this would be incredibly frustrating for an artist in Adele’s shoes; changing one fact—how the song was duplicated—could open the door to receiving royalties for sampling. This bears similarity to the frustration artists feel in cases involving songs like Sample Song A in which they justifiably feel that their hard work has been “appropriated,” yet that appropriation is simply not cognizable under current copyright law.

However, given that this case presents new issues that have not yet been addressed directly, it is possible that using the original in this specific way could be considered an exact duplication. Based on the DPRA and Congress’s intent to protect the ability to earn royalty revenues in the digital age, it may be a fair extension to consider the extraction and use of exact portions of a song using MIDI technology to be within what was meant by an actual duplication. There is no human involvement in using MIDI files to recreate the exact instrumentals; they are fed to the AI system to learn, train on, and reproduce with predictions. By possessing the MIDI file, the system autonomously makes an exact replica of the song. In fact, the point of MIDI files is to enable the creation of exact replicas, as it is a type of file that can direct notes and instruments to be played. While that seems to sound like a process akin to a person who uses their own instrument to recreate a song, which is acceptable under the Copyright Act, the lack of human involvement may persuade a court to conclude that this process falls outside the scope of what Congress intended to allow without obtaining a license.

If this is considered to be sampling, there are several potential rights for Adele to argue infringement upon; by its very nature, sampling may infringe on the reproduction and distribution rights, and courts have found that sampling infringes on the adaptation right by harming the market for future derivatives.²⁸⁰ In determining whether this sample infringed on those rights, courts would likely apply the same requirements for a successful infringement action. The only instance in which the fact of sampling alone would be sufficient is if a court strictly adheres to the holding and reasoning from Bridgeport. Because this would be considered an exact duplication, the factual copying prong would easily be satisfied. As to the legal prong, it seems that Sample Song B would likely be found to be substantially similar to “Someone Like You” for the same reasons as discussed regarding the musical composition. Further, the fair use inquiry would be important in determining whether User B is liable for infringing Adele’s copyright.

Absent such a change in interpretation or amendment of the Copyright Act, it seems unlikely that Adele would succeed on a claim of infringement on the sound recording. Given that AI systems often train on MIDI data, this is something that may be addressed in the Office’s future reports. While arguments about style pirating by generative AI systems seem unlikely to influence changes in copyright protections, arguments about near-duplication by MIDI files align more with adjusting copyright law to address technological changes. Ongoing concerns about royalties and protecting rights in ownership of a sound recording may demand attention to this MIDI “loophole.” Because this situation presents a good opportunity to reconsider what exactly is meant by exact duplications, it is worth considering how Adele’s infringement action would proceed if User B’s use of MIDI files does qualify as sampling. Since the required elements of an infringement cause of action are likely satisfied, the outcome for the recording probably depends on fair use, as that is User B’s last opportunity to attempt to show that their conduct is not prohibited by the Copyright Act.

Fair Use Defense

Regarding both the musical composition and the sound recording, User B will likely at least plead fair use in their answer to a suit alleging infringement by Adele. Nevertheless, like other music copyright cases, it is not guaranteed that this defense will be litigated. In asserting a fair use defense, User B will have the burden of justifying their use of the original phrase, including its intact melody, harmony, and rhythm. If successful, they will be relieved from liability because fair use is an affirmative defense.²⁸¹ Because there are only a handful of fair use music cases that involve non-parody uses, with a notable absence of case law addressing the use of instrumental sections, the following analysis largely relies on analogies to other applications of the defense.

The first factor is the “purpose and character” of the use.²⁸² The key question is one of transformation. Post-Goldsmith, this inquiry is more demanding and requires looking beyond whether the use adds something new. When the use is essentially the same as the original, as is the case here, a compelling justification is required.²⁸³ There is certainly an argument that the use here is transformative, simply based on the nature of MuseNet and the resulting composition. The intro to “Someone Like You” served as the basis for Song B, but then the AI system used predictive technology to construct much of the remaining composition, revisiting the original phrase only occasionally. In a literal sense, User B, via MuseNet, transformed the phrase by pairing it with new instrumental phrases. While this fits the definition of literal transformation, a more compelling argument would exist if the song retained less of the original in its essentially unchanged form. Since most uses incorporate some addition, the inquiry must also consider the extent to which the purpose differs.²⁸⁴ Sample Song B does not fit into any of the criteria from the preamble of § 107,²⁸⁵ but that does not preclude a sufficiently different purpose. In Estate of Smith, the court found that the use of lyrics to discuss music generally served a “sharply different” purpose than the lyric’s original purpose or goal of commenting on the “primacy of jazz music.”²⁸⁶ Whether this conclusion would be accepted under Goldsmith, which was decided later, is questionable because the Court held that transformation cannot be based on the “stated or perceived intent of the artist.”²⁸⁷

Regardless, while there are changes in the instrumental phrasing and added lyrics, the lyrics reflect very similar themes, and the music serves the same purpose of setting a somber tone. While more specifics about the lyrics and the message of Sample Song B are needed to confirm this conclusion, the available information suggests that the purpose of using the piano phrase is not even as different as that of the use in Estate of Smith, which also arguably lacked significant differences. Because of the exact portions of piano used, along with several other nonliteral similarities, it seems unlikely that User B could sufficiently demonstrate a compelling justification or a distinct purpose. The Goldsmith Court noted that Campbell cannot be read to say that any use that adds something new counts in favor of fair use because, if it did, a “commercial remix of Prince’s ‘Purple Rain’” would weigh in favor of fair use purely because it added some new expression to the song.²⁸⁸ Thus, Sample Song B is arguably just a remix of the instrumentals in “Someone Like You,” which fails to serve any significant unique purpose because it uses the phrasing to evoke the same theme and musical vibe. Therefore, it seems unlikely that a court would find the first factor to favor fair use here.

The second factor is “the nature of the copyrighted work.”²⁸⁹ This factor examines whether the work is creative or expressive.²⁹⁰ This factor weighs strongly against fair use because the copyrighted work is an original, creative musical work. Because this is somewhat uncharted territory, User B could argue that the creative nature of the original song is less relevant because what was used can be broken down into a chord progression, and there are only so many combinations of such progressions; User B may then argue that courts should look at these chords more like facts or nonfiction works. This argument is not particularly persuasive given that Sample Song B uses the same arrangement of the chord progressions, maintaining the original melody and harmony, which clearly speaks to the creative choices made in “Someone Like You.” Nonetheless, this factor is rarely significant in a final fair use determination.²⁹¹

The third factor pertains to the “amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole.”²⁹² User B will certainly argue that they used only what was required for the generative AI system to create predictions and compose a new song in accordance with those predictions. While User B is not required to use only the minimum amount needed for the system to function,²⁹³ the significant amount used, coupled with the lack of obvious transformation in the resulting song, will likely work against them. This factor is less likely to favor fair use when there is extensive copying or when the use encompasses “the most important parts of the original.”²⁹⁴ While in Oracle, the amount of code used was reasonable in proportion to the transformative use,²⁹⁵ the use of exact news segments in Fox News Network, LLC v. TVEyes, Inc. was extensive and included all of the important parts of the original news segments, thereby failing to qualify as fair use.²⁹⁶ User B’s use of the piano phrase likely falls between these two cases, as it does not use the entire composition, but still uses so much of what is important from it. As with the other two factors, this factor would likely count against fair use here.

The final factor, often deemed the most important, asks about the “effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.”²⁹⁷ This factor requires looking beyond the immediate situation to consider whether widespread conduct of this kind “[might] adversely affect the potential market for the copyrighted work.”²⁹⁸ As noted earlier, this factor’s application in the music context is unclear, as it has received little judicial attention. Since the use is unlikely to be deemed transformative, Song B is more likely to pose a risk of market substitution. However, this conclusion is based on an approach that is not typically applied to music cases like this one. User B will certainly argue that listening preferences are subjective and the use of the piano phrase to create a similarly emotional ballad may not clearly harm the market for the original the way the complete replication of news segments and distribution of clips would render paying for the original largely unnecessary.²⁹⁹ However, a California court, addressing an allegedly infringing song in Frisby, held that two songs within similar genres were competitors; as such, the court concluded that when a latter song copies important elements of the original, the value and sales of the original are expected to be diminished because “the copy supersedes the objects of the original creation thereby supplanting [it].”³⁰⁰ Sample Song B is clearly within the same genre as “Someone Like You,” so a court may deem them to be market competitors. Assuming these two songs qualify as market competitors, the subsequent question becomes whether Sample Song B copies an important element of “Someone Like You,” thereby supplanting the original. For the reasons discussed throughout this Note, the copied piano phrase is clearly a critical part of “Someone Like You,” as it is recognizable and serves as the instrumental accompaniment for most of the song. If a court agrees with this determination of importance, it will likely count against fair use.

The court in Frisby further explained the importance of considering the market for derivative works that may be affected by a later use; in that case, the court found that if the sample were considered fair use, it would “destroy the market for derivative works based on [the original song].”³⁰¹ While that conclusion was linked to the existence of a “flourishing market” for derivatives of the original song,³⁰² the premise that such a decision would result in future users not bothering to pay licensing fees would still apply here, even if there is no such flourishing market for “Someone Like You.” Fair use cases pertaining to all types of work often consider the potential chilling effects on the market. Finding Sample Song B’s use to be fair use could certainly undermine the efficacy and profitability of an established system of licensing.³⁰³ By referencing sound recordings, the DPRA reflects congressional concern about the livelihoods of artists and individuals who rely on licensing revenue. Allowing this substantial amount of copying to be fair use would likely lead many future users to forgo obtaining a license. Further, the court in Sony Music Entertainment v. Vital Pharmaceuticals, Inc. held that when a user “completely ignore[d] the market for music licensing,” the burden shifts to the user to demonstrate that their use is not likely to harm the market for the original.³⁰⁴ Therefore, because User B did not obtain a license to use any part of “Someone Like You,” they would be responsible for producing evidence that Sample Song B did not negatively affect the market for the original. Adele’s unrealized royalties in this case would be limited to licensing revenues for “traditional, reasonable, or likely to be developed markets.”³⁰⁵ However, based on statutory requirements and industry practices, music licensing qualifies as a developed market. Therefore, this limitation is unlikely to have a significant impact in the music context.

Even if the use of MIDI files renders the use a mere imitation rather than a duplication infringing upon Adele’s rights in the recording, the result may be the same for this fourth factor, as a finding of fair use would necessarily imply that the MIDI loophole provides an acceptable way to avert infringement. This is problematic for the sampling and licensing market because those who would normally obtain a license to sample “Someone Like You” and other songs may instead copy the songs via MIDI technology. While such an approach would be unwise, considering that it does not remove potential liability for infringement of the musical composition, it would nonetheless provide a way to avoid paying licensing fees, which some AI users would likely exploit. Therefore, the chilling effect is likely to occur regardless of whether the use is characterized as sampling or a literal duplication. Further, the piano phrase is an important part of “Someone Like You,” both in the actual recording and in the composition, which is copied exactly. Therefore, Sample Song B may supplant the composition and thereby harm the sales and value of “Someone Like You.”

While predictions about fair use are necessarily speculative given the unique factors here, the application of analogous precedent suggests that, at a minimum, User B does not have a very compelling fair use defense. Future application of fair use in music by courts will be instructive, as will opinions addressing generative AI more specifically. A particularly important question to be answered will be how generative AI works that use predictive models will hold up against a transformation inquiry, as that factor typically seeps into the other three as well. Until courts provide such insight on how fair use and infringement apply to generative AI songs, Adele seems to have a decent case for infringement of the composition, so long as the subjective assessment leans in her favor. Infringement of the rights in the sound recording copyright, however, seems to present a less promising case under current interpretations of the Copyright Act.

IV. POLICY IMPLICATIONS

The analyses of Sample Songs A and B clearly suggest that current copyright law does not provide obvious answers to several questions that arise in the context of generative AI music and, more generally, AI technology. While certain provisions of the Copyright Act are intentionally broad to allow for changes, and amendments have addressed specific deficiencies identified by Congress, a fundamental deficiency arises from the fact that they did not design the Act with this advanced of technology in mind. For example, the limitation of rights in a sound recording to exact duplications was not promulgated with the expectation that machine learning algorithms would eventually train on data and duplicate it exactly through what technically qualifies as an independent fixation under the statute. Whether these deficiencies are addressed through amendments, judicial decisions, or administrative policies, a determination stands to be made as to whether specific new rules or exceptions are needed, or if the broad language of the Act should remain, with adjusted, AI-specific or AI-sensitive interpretations.³⁰⁶

Specific rules aside, the contentious situations created by generative AI music highlights the continuing struggle to balance protection for creators with the benefits of rapidly advancing technology. As the Court noted in Twentieth Century Music Corporation v. Aiken, the Copyright Act and its provisions are intended to reflect “a balance of competing claims upon the public interest.”³⁰⁷ On one side of the spectrum, it is important to recognize the societal value of music and properly appreciate the talent it takes to release authentic, moving pieces of work.³⁰⁸ If we want musically talented individuals to continue to pursue these creative aims and provide us with entertainment, their creative expression must continue to enjoy protection. This is a particularly salient concern given the sensitivity of the creation involved, as one artist is a vulnerable human, baring their soul, and the other “artist” is an inherently non-creative and non-vulnerable trained machine.

On the other end of the spectrum is the necessary recognition of the importance of encouraging technological advancement and pursuing a more efficient society. If the use of generative AI is aggressively cabined by the risk of copyright infringement litigation, the world may miss out on valuable works. While the protection of artists is undeniably important, it cannot be forgotten that protections are limited because the ultimate goal is to promote creativity for the public good.³⁰⁹ Further, this could have a chilling effect beyond the music industry, impacting industries in which the use and advancement of this technology could change the world or save lives. Even within the music industry, if we limit the usage of AI by non-owners, how might that precedent impact the use of AI by owners themselves? Currently, similar technology is used in recording studios to make original songs and, particularly, to improve songs before they are released.³¹⁰ Artists would agree that this use is not the aim of cracking down on copyright infringement, but it would potentially be difficult to keep these uses separate and may result in frivolous and undesired suits between disgruntled artists and producers. Further, we need to determine the weight that the creative input of the user has on what uses are more permissible because not all AI systems dominate the creation without meaningful human input. Determining how and where to draw this line is far from simple and will necessarily depend on an increased understanding of the technology, assessment of policy priorities, and, to some degree, value judgments regarding what aims our society deems most important.

CONCLUSION

Generative AI music presents a whole host of new questions, considerations, and potential implications for how copyright holders vindicate their ownership. While the application of current copyright law and precedents to these situations involving AI-generated music does not provide fully satisfying answers as to what will happen when songs like these land on court dockets, it does direct attention to the chief policy concerns and areas in which artists are vulnerable. With regard to “Fake Drake,” the analysis of Sample Song A suggests that an infringement suit based on AI-generated soundalikes is unlikely to be successful. While a better understanding of the technology involved in AI-generated music may lead to stronger sampling claims, addressing “Fake Drake” is likely a matter better suited for trademark law and the right of publicity. Sample Song B presents slightly brighter prospects for artists to litigate AI-generated songs they believe infringe on their existing, copyrighted work. But these results are somewhat tentative, pending a better understanding of the technology and, ideally, insight from the Office.

What can be said for certain is that our understanding and expectation of how these cases will unfold are crucially informed by our understanding of the generative technology that ultimately creates the works. From the amount of user input to training data, there are many more considerations for actionable infringement than in a case of one person consciously copying the lyrics of a song by copying and pasting them onto new sheet music. As more is understood about how this technology actually uses existing songs to create new ones, the more we can apply the principles of copyright law and identify the gray areas that need clarification. To call these situations and concerns complicated would be a vast understatement. But if copyright law is to achieve its aims of “promot[ing] the Progress of Science and useful Arts,”³¹¹ while also continuing to provide adequate protection for “original works of authorship,”³¹² even in the face of alluring technological developments, work must be done to decipher between these considerations and identify those that are legally cognizable. While Drake likely cannot

vindicate his copyright ownership rights by taking Fake Drake to court, future artists similarly affected might face a different trajectory thanks to “Heart on My Sleeve,” and how it turned the country’s attention to the question of how copyright law interacts with generative AI music.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 663

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Melissa Schneider*

* Executive Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 98; J.D. Candidate 2025, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. 2022, University of Arizona, W.A. Franke Honors College. Thank you to Professor Barnett for his support and guidance, and to the members of the Southern California Law Review for their thoughtful suggestions.

Transforming Special Education Litigation: The Milestone of Perez v. Sturgis Public Schools

April 2025April 2025Isabelle Yuan*

In March 2023, the Supreme Court issued a landmark decision in Perez v. Sturgis Public Schools, which held that individuals seeking compensatory damages under federal anti-discrimination laws, like the Americans with Disabilities Act, no longer need to satisfy the administrative exhaustion requirement in the Individuals with Disabilities Act (“IDEA”). Under IDEA, all students with disabilities are entitled to a free appropriate public education, which means that students with disabilities are entitled to individualized education services that meet their needs. In Perez, the plaintiff, Miguel Luna Perez, was a deaf student who alleged that the Sturgis Public Schools discriminated against him by not providing proper accommodations, such as a qualified sign language interpreter in his classes. The district court and the Sixth Circuit dismissed the plaintiff’s claims because of an IDEA provision that requires the plaintiff exhaust all administrative procedures before seeking relief in court. The Supreme Court reversed the Sixth Circuit decision, reasoning that the exhaustion requirement did not apply to Perez as he sought compensatory damages, which are unavailable under IDEA. This ruling means that families can now directly hold schools financially accountable for IDEA violations. This Note discusses Perez’s profound impact on the special education landscape. The greater accessibility for families to litigate will ideally lead to greater accountability and IDEA compliance as schools strategize to avoid litigation and paying costly compensatory damages. Although this decision is a victory for students with disabilities, a major downside of Perez is that paying compensatory damages increases schools’ financial strain and may hinder their abilities to address systemic issues in their special education framework. To ensure that school districts can properly address structural issues and adequately support students with disabilities post-Perez, this Note argues for clearer IDEA guidelines and robust monitoring systems. There are many uncertainties that follow in the wake of Perez, but the decision has the potential to encourage much-needed progress in special education services nationwide.

INTRODUCTION

In March 2023, the United States Supreme Court delivered a landmark decision for students with disabilities. The Court unanimously ruled in Perez v. Sturgis Public Schools that a student with a disability is not required to exhaust the administrative due process procedures under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (“IDEA”) before seeking monetary damages under the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 (“ADA”) or other federal antidiscrimination laws.¹ Under IDEA, students with disabilities are required to receive a “free and appropriate public education,” but money damages are not available as relief.²

IDEA mandates that students with disabilities receive a free appropriate public education (“FAPE”), which includes providing special education and related services from preschool through secondary school that meet state educational agency standards and conform with the student’s individualized education program (“IEP”).³ An IEP is a written statement developed by a local educational agency, like a school district. It is a collaboration between a child’s parents and school personnel to identify a student’s needs and to develop a plan to achieve educational goals.⁴ Parents are intended to play “a significant role” in the IEP process.⁵ IEPs also prescribe the types of supplementary services the student will receive, along with an explanation of whether the child is able to participate in regular classes with nondisabled children.⁶

Three main federal laws exist to protect children with disabilities: IDEA,⁷ the ADA,⁸ and section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 (“section 504”).⁹ Both IDEA and section 504 confer a right to FAPE, though the two have distinct conceptions of the meaning.¹⁰ Though the ADA does not contain a FAPE obligation, its regulations are mandated to be consistent with all section 504 regulations, so it does not undermine section 504’s FAPE obligation.¹¹ The ADA was enacted twenty-five years after IDEA to “provide a clear and comprehensive national mandate” to address pervasive discrimination against individuals with disabilities in areas such as “employment, housing, public accommodations, [and] education . . . .”¹² The ADA mandates that employers and public entities make reasonable modifications to their policies or facilities to accommodate individuals with disabilities. Section 504 is an antidiscrimination statute that also protects individuals with disabilities from being denied benefits or excluded from participation in any program receiving federal funding, including public schools.¹³

IDEA, the ADA, and section 504 all define “disability” differently, although there are overlaps among them. In this Note, “students with disabilities” refers to students who qualify under IDEA. IDEA defines a student with a disability as a child, aged between three to twenty-one, “with intellectual disabilities, hearing impairments (including deafness), speech or language impairments, visual impairments (including blindness), serious emotional disturbance, . . . orthopedic impairments, autism, traumatic brain injury, other health impairments, or specific learning disabilities” who thereby “needs special education and related services.”¹⁴ The ADA’s definition for “disability” is more stringent, as an individual must have “a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activities” and a record of the impairment.¹⁵ Section 504 incorporates part of the ADA definition, but requires that an individual with a disability have a physical or mental impairment that “results in a substantial impediment to employment” and can benefit from vocational rehabilitation services.¹⁶ The ADA and section 504 operate similarly to prohibit discrimination on the basis of disability in programs that receive federal funding.¹⁷ So, although IDEA and ADA both provide relief for individuals with disabilities, they function differently; the ADA addresses broader discrimination in major areas of public life like employment and public accommodations, while IDEA is focused only on special education services in public education.¹⁸ Importantly, the different “disability” definitions mean that a person who receives special education services under IDEA does not necessarily have a disability recognized under the ADA and section 504.¹⁹

In Perez v. Sturgis Public Schools, Miguel Luna Perez, a deaf student in Michigan, faced significant challenges in his education. Perez attended schools in the Sturgis Public School District (“SPSD”) and was entitled to a sign language interpreter during class.²⁰ Although the school provided him with a classroom aide, Perez’s assigned aide was unqualified to teach sign language.²¹ As Perez neared high school graduation, the school informed his parents that he did not fulfill his diploma requirements and would not graduate, which prompted Perez to file a complaint with the Michigan Department of Education.²² Perez alleged that SPSD denied him an adequate education in violation of IDEA, the ADA, section 504, and two other disability laws.²³ SPSD and Perez agreed to a settlement that included post-secondary compensatory education and sign language instruction for Perez.²⁴ Perez subsequently sued SPSD in federal district court.²⁵ The Western District of Michigan dismissed Perez’s ADA claim, citing his failure to exhaust administrative proceedings because he had settled his IDEA claim—a decision the Sixth Circuit affirmed.²⁶

The central question before the Supreme Court in this case was whether IDEA and the ADA required a student to exhaust administrative proceedings against the school district, even when such proceedings would not provide the relief sought.²⁷ The Court’s unanimous opinion held that an ADA lawsuit seeking compensatory damages could proceed without exhausting the administrative processes of IDEA because the remedy sought under the ADA was not one provided by IDEA.²⁸ Perez is important because it changes the landscape of special education law, opening the door for families to seek compensatory damages without undergoing an extensive exhaustion process. Rather than being forced to participate in due process hearings, families can readily hold school districts financially accountable for IDEA noncompliance.

This ruling will have significant implications for the rights of children with disabilities and how school districts handle future litigation. One implication is that the process for seeking compensatory damages from school districts became more streamlined, since families may bypass IDEA’s exhaustion requirement. Previously, the burden of exhausting IDEA’s administrative procedures was a deterrent for families seeking remedies under federal statutes like the ADA and section 504. Another implication is that the rights of students with disabilities are enhanced, as families have more leverage when negotiating settlements with school districts. Families may feel more empowered by the possibility of receiving monetary damages that will offset their litigation costs and propel school districts to address their inadequate special education programs. The availability of compensatory damages will likely lead to an increase in the number of cases brought against school districts.

However, there may be unforeseen negative consequences of increased family advocacy: prolonged legal battles and compensatory damage payouts may strain school districts’ resources and divert attention away from students. School districts that are already struggling financially might experience a further breakdown in their special education services as reduced funding and resources prevent them from addressing the educational needs of students. It may be that some families will receive rightful compensation while other students with disabilities struggle against systemic issues in the administration of special education programs exacerbated by the effects of the Perez decision.

This Note proposes that the Supreme Court’s decision in Perez will have far-reaching consequences for the families of students with disabilities and school districts’ approaches to litigation, as well as policy implications for educational agencies in the implementation of special education services under IDEA. Part I of this Note offers an overview of IDEA’s history, the statute’s requirements and procedural framework, and an explanation of IDEA’s exhaustion requirement that is central to the discussion in Perez. Also, Part I offers a brief explanation of the ADA and section 504 in relation to IDEA and the standards for receiving compensatory damages through these laws. Part II discusses a few important Supreme Court cases that litigated standards and definitions under IDEA. To fully understand the importance of the Perez decision, it is important to contextualize Perez alongside other IDEA cases heard by the Supreme Court. Part III explores the background and discussion of Perez and its implications for future special education litigation. Finally, Part IV explores potential consequences of the Perez decision and offers policy recommendations on how educational agencies can better meet IDEA requirements and address the needs of students with disabilities.

I. FOUNDATIONS OF SPECIAL EDUCATION LAW

This Part provides background information about the creation of IDEA and a detailed explanation of the statute’s intentions, procedural framework, and enforcement through state educational agencies. This Part also briefly explains IDEA’s exhaustion requirement, which is central to Perez. The final Section of this Part describes the process and standards for a party bringing a discrimination claim for money damages under the ADA and section 504, since compensatory damages are unavailable under IDEA.

A. History of IDEA

Beginning with the Civil Rights Movement, advocates for students with disabilities argued that the exclusion of students with disabilities from schools was a denial of equal educational opportunities analogous to racial segregation in schools.²⁹ Advocacy organizations and parents sued states, alleging that inappropriate educational services violated the Constitution.³⁰ Congress responded by enacting the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965, in which the federal government provided funding to educate students below the poverty line and improve the education of students with disabilities in public schools.³¹ In 1970, the Education of the Handicapped Act (“EHA”) was passed and provided grant funding for higher education institutions to develop special education teacher training programs.³² Two 1972 cases, Pennsylvania Ass’n for Retarded Children (PARC) v. Pennsylvania and Mills v. District of Columbia, are considered to be the most notable cases in special education and foundational to the ideas in IDEA.³³ In PARC, the district court approved an amended consent agreement that obligated the state of Pennsylvania to place every child with a disability “in a free, public program of education and training appropriate to the child’s capacity.”³⁴ In Mills, the district court held that the District of Columbia public school system must utilize their financial resources so “that no child is entirely excluded from a publicly supported education consistent with [their] needs and ability to benefit therefrom,” especially for students with disabilities.³⁵ Though PARC and Mills are most frequently referenced, there were more than thirty federal cases during this period in which courts upheld the same principles outlined in PARC and Mills.³⁶

In the early 1970s, only 3.9 million of the 8 million children with documented disabilities in the United States had access to an adequate education.³⁷ In 1975, President Gerald Ford signed into law an amendment to the EHA, the Education for All Handicapped Children Act (“EAHCA”).³⁸ The EAHCA’s purpose was to ensure that students with disabilities received a FAPE, to protect the rights of students and parents, and to assist states and school districts in providing services.³⁹ The EAHCA’s enactment was significant because it marked the first time that a FAPE was memorialized in the law.⁴⁰

In 1990, amendments were passed to the EAHCA, and the law was renamed as the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, as it is known today.⁴¹ IDEA’s purpose is to ensure that every child with a disability received a FAPE.⁴² Importantly, IDEA provides funding to states and school districts that comply with its mandates.⁴³ The combination of IDEA’s function and purpose make it both an educational grant program and a civil rights statute, rendering it a unique piece of legislation. In 1997, amendments restructured IDEA into four parts: (1) general provisions; (2) assistance for all children with disabilities; (3) infants and toddlers with disabilities; and (4) national activities to improve the education of students with disabilities.⁴⁴

B. Inside IDEA

1. IDEA Requirements and Procedural Framework

IDEA contains an administrative framework that was intended to ensure that parents of students with disabilities have enforceable opportunities to participate in all aspects of their children’s education.⁴⁵ The Supreme Court has made it clear that IDEA guarantees a substantively adequate program to all eligible students with disabilities, which is satisfied when a child’s IEP sets out an educational program that reasonably allows the child to receive educational benefits and advance from grade to grade.⁴⁶ IDEA is centered around the provision of a FAPE, which must be made in conformity with the IEP.⁴⁷ IDEA does this by guaranteeing a FAPE in the least restrictive environment (“LRE”) for all students with disabilities and through the creation and implementation of IEPs.⁴⁸ A FAPE in conformity with an IEP must be specially designed to meet the unique needs of a child with a disability and include any related services that would benefit the child.⁴⁹ All states covered by IDEA must provide a child with a disability with special education and related services as prescribed by his IEP.⁵⁰ IDEA defines “special education” as specially designed instruction to meet the unique needs of a child with a disability, and “related services” as the support services required to assist a child to benefit from that instruction.⁵¹ These services can include speech-language pathology, interpreters, occupational therapy, and counseling services.⁵²

A FAPE must “have been provided at public expense, under public supervision and direction, and without charge” at an appropriate level of education that meets state standards.⁵³ The LRE means that, to the “maximum extent appropriate,” children with disabilities are to be educated with children who are not disabled in a regular classroom setting, and that removal of children with disabilities from the regular classroom environment occurs only in cases of severe disability or when supplementary services “cannot be achieved satisfactorily.”⁵⁴

IDEA requires school districts to develop an IEP for each child with a disability.⁵⁵ Parental concerns regarding their child’s education must be considered by the team.⁵⁶ States are required to oversee this process and ensure that parents of a child with a disability are involved in the IEP discussion and any decisions about the educational placement of their child.⁵⁷ A student’s IEP must state the special education and related services that will be provided so that the child may advance toward achieving the annual goals set in their IEP.⁵⁸ An IEP must also state the child’s current levels of academic achievement and functional performance, while explaining how the child’s progress toward achieving their annual goals will be measured.⁵⁹ Based on these goals, an IEP will prescribe the special education and related services that will be provided.⁶⁰

IDEA has a comprehensive enforcement scheme that requires states to establish and maintain procedural safeguards to ensure that students with disabilities are receiving their basic right to education—a FAPE.⁶¹ State and local compliance with IDEA is monitored by federal review.⁶² Procedural safeguards are in place to “guarantee parents both an opportunity for meaningful input into all decisions affecting their child’s education and the right to seek review of any decisions they think inappropriate.”⁶³ For example, states are mandated to provide an opportunity for parents to examine all relevant school records.⁶⁴ Whenever parents have complaints about the adequacy of their child’s education, like in the development of their IEP, the involved state must provide an opportunity for the party to present a complaint “with respect to any matter relating to the identification, evaluation, or educational placement of the child, or the provision of a free appropriate public education to such child.”⁶⁵

Once a party presents a complaint, a review process begins, in which the parents of the child with a disability discuss their complaint with the local educational agency in a preliminary meeting and the parties work to reach a resolution.⁶⁶ If the agency fails to resolve the complaint to the parent’s satisfaction within thirty days, the party may request an impartial due process hearing, which can be conducted by either the local educational agency or the state educational agency.⁶⁷ A due process hearing is overseen by an impartial hearing officer who considers sworn testimony and evidence to make a decision.⁶⁸ The hearing officer’s decision must be made on substantive grounds based on a determination of whether the child received a FAPE.⁶⁹ For a hearing officer to be “impartial,” they must not be an employee of the state educational agency or the child’s school district.⁷⁰ The officer may find a violation of a FAPE only if the procedural inadequacies “impeded the child’s right to a free appropriate public education,” “significantly impeded the parents’ opportunity to participate in the decisionmaking process,” or deprived the child of educational benefits.⁷¹ Notably, decisions made in due process hearings are binding on both parties, though parties may appeal a decision of the local educational agency to the state educational agency.⁷² Once the state educational agency reaches a decision, the aggrieved party may bring an action in state or federal district court.⁷³ The court will then review the administrative record, with supplementary evidence submitted at the request of a party, before granting “such relief as the court determines is appropriate” to the prevailing party.⁷⁴

IDEA does not grant compensatory damages, but it does provide for discretionary attorneys’ fees.⁷⁵ Most IDEA remedies have been equitable remedies, such as tuition reimbursement or injunctive relief.⁷⁶ Courts have also been given broad discretion in providing equitable relief that it finds appropriate and consistent with the purposes of IDEA, ADA, and section 504.⁷⁷ A court or hearing officer may require an educational agency to reimburse the parents of a child with a disability for the cost of private school enrollment if the school district cannot adequately provide a FAPE.⁷⁸

Once a state accepts IDEA’s financial assistance, an eligible child under the statute has a substantive right to a FAPE.⁷⁹ IDEA has six categories of mandates that states must meet to receive funding: (1) educational agencies must provide services to all qualified students with disabilities, regardless of the severity of their disabilities; (2) educational agencies must evaluate each student with a disability that requests a FAPE; (3) all students with disabilities aged between three and twenty-one who need special education and related services must receive a FAPE; (4) students with disabilities must be educated in the general classroom or the LRE as much as possible; (5) several procedural safeguards must be followed to guarantee a FAPE; and (6) parents must be involved at every stage of the process.⁸⁰

2. State Responsibilities Under IDEA

In the United States, Congress does not have constitutional authority over education, so it exerts pressure on states using its spending powers,⁸¹ particularly by offering federal funding to state and local agencies that meet IDEA conditions.⁸² This funding allows the federal government to oversee state educational authorities, such as state departments of education. State educational authorities then oversee local educational authorities, which are responsible for the implementation of IDEA mandates in schools.⁸³ But IDEA serves only as a floor for student rights, and many states have established their own statutes to further expand upon federal mandates in the special education context. These state laws play a critical role in shaping the law for students with disabilities, so the landscape of disability-rights law can vary significantly from one jurisdiction to another. For example, what a student must do to exhaust IDEA administrative requirements before bringing a lawsuit depends on each state’s rules. IDEA allows states to choose between a one- or two-tiered system for administrative review. In a one-tiered system, a state educational agency decides a student’s case.⁸⁴ In a two-tiered system, a local educational agency decides the case before a party can appeal for an impartial hearing conducted by the state educational agency; all of which must happen before a civil action may be brought in a state or federal district court.⁸⁵

Under IDEA, state and local departments of education receive federal financial assistance if they provide a FAPE for children with disabilities.⁸⁶ A state may provide educational benefits that exceed those required by IDEA, with the state standards being equally enforceable through IDEA.⁸⁷ A state must certify to the Secretary of Education that it has policies and procedures that will meet IDEA’s conditions, especially IDEA’s principal obligation to provide a FAPE to all eligible students with disabilities.⁸⁸ A local educational agency or school district is eligible to receive a share of the state’s federal funding if it has policies and programs that are consistent with the state’s policies.⁸⁹ Thus, a school district’s obligations under IDEA are dependent on the state’s formal procedures and obligations, which must align with IDEA.

3. Section 1415(l): IDEA Exhaustion Requirement

In § 1415(l) of IDEA (“section 1415(l)”), the statute requires that parties first exhaust administrative remedies before filing a complaint in state or federal court regarding the denial of a FAPE.⁹⁰ As the Supreme Court explained in Weinberger v. Salfi,

Exhaustion is generally required as a matter of preventing premature interference with agency processes, so that the agency may function efficiently and so that it may have an opportunity to correct its own errors, to afford the parties and the courts the benefit of its experience and expertise, and to compile a record which is adequate for judicial review.⁹¹

The exhaustion doctrine is also premised on the idea “that [educational] agencies, not the courts, ought to have primary responsibility for the programs that Congress has charged them to administer.”⁹² Although courts have discretion in their decision to rule on exceptions to the exhaustion requirement, the “[a]pplication of the doctrine to specific cases requires an understanding of its purposes and of the particular administrative scheme involved.”⁹³

In analyzing whether an exception to the rule should be granted, courts previously considered whether the purposes of exhaustion would be served by requiring plaintiffs to exhaust administrative remedies.⁹⁴ Congress’s aim was to allow educational agencies and parents to work together in developing a child’s IEP.⁹⁵ Requiring the exhaustion of administrative processes allows for an exploration of the educational issues at hand, a complete consideration of the factual record, and the opportunity for educational agencies to correct the problems in their special education programs.⁹⁶

There have been exceptions to the exhaustion requirement in certain situations, though the accepted exceptions differ across circuits.⁹⁷ Before the Perez decision, courts recognized that there were instances in which the exhaustion requirement did not further the goals of IDEA and excused exhaustion, but only “in cases of futility and inadequacy.”⁹⁸

C. The ADA and Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act

The ADA and section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 are federal statutes focused on preventing discrimination against individuals with disabilities.⁹⁹ Section 504 applies to all organizations that receive federal funding, which includes public schools.¹⁰⁰ Prior to section 504, neither federal, state, nor local law protected people with disabilities from discrimination in schools.¹⁰¹ The ADA extends to secular private schools that do not receive federal funding.¹⁰² The ADA was enacted twenty-five years after IDEA “to provide a clear and comprehensive national mandate for the elimination of discrimination against individuals with disabilities.”¹⁰³ The ADA covers a broader range of areas than IDEA since it focuses on all types of discrimination individuals face in areas such as employment, housing, and health services, in addition to education.¹⁰⁴ Title II of the ADA forbids any public entity, including schools, from discriminating based on disability,¹⁰⁵ and section 504 applies the same prohibition to any federally funded program.¹⁰⁶ The Supreme Court has interpreted section 504 as “demanding certain ‘reasonable’ modifications to existing practices in order to ‘accommodate’ persons with disabilities.”¹⁰⁷

Unlike IDEA, both the ADA and section 504 authorize individuals to seek redress for violations of their rights by bringing suits for money damages.¹⁰⁸ The available remedies under section 203 of the ADA are the same remedies available under section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, which are also the same remedies available under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.¹⁰⁹ Based on that statutory language, the Supreme Court has found that “the remedies for violations of § 202 of the ADA and § 504 of the Rehabilitation Act are coextensive with the remedies available in a private cause of action brought under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.”¹¹⁰

Although the ADA is intended to protect individuals with disabilities, many people have been refused coverage.¹¹¹ Many courts have ruled that plaintiffs were not covered under the ADA’s definition of “disability,” as they did not fulfill any of the ADA’s three requirements of having “a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activities,” having “a record of such an impairment,” or “being regarded as having such an impairment.”¹¹² The narrow interpretation of the definition has shrunk the number of people in this protected class.¹¹³

The standard for obtaining compensatory damages under the ADA or section 504 is substantial. Different circuits have adopted similar requirements to establish a discrimination case under either the ADA or section 504.¹¹⁴ To establish a disability discrimination claim under the ADA or section 504, a plaintiff must demonstrate that a student is a “qualified individual with a disability”; “was excluded from participation in,” or otherwise discriminated against by “a public entity’s services, programs or activities”; and that exclusion or discrimination was the result of the student’s disability.¹¹⁵ Claims for compensatory damages under the ADA require a finding of intentional discrimination or an intentional denial of benefits, such as deliberate indifference from a school district.¹¹⁶ For example, in the Ninth Circuit, to prevail on a section 504 claim, a plaintiff must establish that (1) they have a disability; (2) they were otherwise qualified to receive a benefit; (3) they were denied the benefit solely because of their disability; and (4) the program receives federal financial assistance.¹¹⁷ To receive compensatory damages, a plaintiff must additionally prove intentional discrimination, such as showing deliberate indifference.¹¹⁸

II. JUDICIAL MILESTONES IN SPECIAL EDUCATION

This Part gives a brief overview of a few important IDEA cases in which the Supreme Court has decided individual disputes between children and their schools. It also aims to contextualize the Supreme Court’s decision in Perez by highlighting the Court’s role in clarifying IDEA provisions and its consistent deference to parents advocating for their children’s educational rights. Finally, this Part explains Fry v. Napoleon Community Schools, which is the last IDEA case the Supreme Court heard before Perez and addresses related questions about IDEA’s exhaustion requirement.

In Board of Education v. Rowley, the Supreme Court interpreted the term “appropriate” in IDEA’s statutory construct pertaining to FAPE.¹¹⁹ The Court rejected lower court decisions that required educational achievement to a child’s “full potential,” instead concluding that one of the main functions of IDEA was to create “access to specialized instruction and related services which are individually designed to provide educational benefit to” a child with disabilities.¹²⁰ The Court interpreted “appropriate” to establish a “basic floor of opportunity” that required school districts to provide disabled children with an “educational benefit.”¹²¹ This case has been extremely important in clarifying the level of service school districts are required to provide to students.

Amy Rowley, a deaf student, attended public school and received services under the then EAHCA.¹²² When Rowley’s parents requested that the school provide her with a sign language interpreter, school officials refused, maintaining that the services she had already received were sufficient for her needs.¹²³ Rowley received speech and language therapy and had an audio amplification system, which the school argued was sufficient due to Rowley’s passing grades.¹²⁴ Rowley’s parents filed an administrative complaint based on the school’s refusal to provide her with a sign language interpreter, which resulted in a favorable decision for the school district. The federal district court then ruled in the parents’ favor, which was affirmed by the Second Circuit.¹²⁵ The school district appealed to the Supreme Court, which discussed two central questions: “What is meant by the [EAHCA’s] requirement of a ‘free appropriate public education’? And what is the role of state and federal courts in exercising the review granted by [EAHCA]?”¹²⁶

The Court’s majority opinion looked at the Congressional intent of the EAHCA, which focused on remedying the exclusion of children with disabilities from normal school environments. Justice Rehnquist wrote that “the intent of the Act was more to open the door of public education to handicapped children on appropriate terms than to guarantee any particular level of education once inside.”¹²⁷ The Court explained that a school’s obligation was satisfied by providing the basic floor of services rather than the maximum needed for a child to succeed, since that would go farther than what the Court believed Congress intended.¹²⁸ Notably, the Court also declared that a court had the authority to grant whatever relief it deemed appropriate under the EAHCA where a school failed to satisfy procedural obligations, but emphasized that this authority was limited to procedural compliance rather than imposing substantive educational standards.¹²⁹ The Court’s decision in Rowley had practical implications for district courts, as many were guided by the two questions the Rowley Court posited: “First, has the State complied with the procedures set forth in the [EAHCA]? And second, is the individualized educational program developed through the [EAHCA’s] procedures reasonably calculated to enable the child to receive educational benefits?”¹³⁰ Courts have used these two questions to determine whether school districts have done enough for students, and maintain that they may not substitute any preferred policies over the school’s discretion.¹³¹ The Rowley Court also recognized that states have the primary responsibility for developing and executing educational programs and determining educational policies since “courts lack the ‘specialized knowledge and experience’ necessary to resolve ‘persistent and difficult questions of educational policy.’ ”¹³²

In Endrew F. v. Douglas County School District RE-1, the Supreme Court clarified its position on IDEA’s FAPE provision, finding that an IEP must be “reasonably calculated to enable a child to make progress appropriate in light of the child’s circumstances.”¹³³ A child with disabilities should still have the opportunity to be educated in a regular classroom that will “ ‘enable the child to achieve passing marks and advance from grade to grade.’ ”¹³⁴ In Endrew, the parents of a fifth-grade student with autism sought reimbursement of tuition costs for placement in a private school.¹³⁵ His parents were dissatisfied with his progress in public school because his IEP goals carried over year-to-year and he failed to make progress in his learning.¹³⁶ Endrew’s parents filed a complaint with the Colorado Department of Education seeking reimbursement, which required them to demonstrate that the school district had not provided Endrew with a FAPE.¹³⁷ The district court felt that modifications to Endrew’s IEP each year were “sufficient to show a pattern of, at the least, minimal progress.”¹³⁸ The district court explained that minimal progress was all that the Rowley standard required of a school district.¹³⁹ The Tenth Circuit affirmed the lower court’s decision, agreeing that special education services only need to allow a student with disabilities to make “some progress.”¹⁴⁰

The Supreme Court stated that, “To meet its substantive obligation under IDEA, a school must offer an IEP reasonably calculated to enable a child to make progress appropriate in light of the child’s circumstances.”¹⁴¹ The Court felt that an IEP was designed to create a plan for “pursuing academic and functional advancement,” which connected with IDEA’s purpose to help prevent the exclusion of children with disabilities in classrooms.¹⁴² Thus, a student offered an education that merely allowed some progress “can hardly be said to have been offered an education at all.”¹⁴³ The Court refrained from creating a bright-line test for determining what “appropriate progress” meant, reasoning that it should be determined depending on each unique child.¹⁴⁴

Parents of students with disabilities “often do not feel they are empowered when the [IDEA] system fails them,” as litigation is not an accessible avenue for everyone.¹⁴⁵ In Endrew, Endrew’s parents first paid for private specialized schooling before filing a complaint seeking reimbursement from the state,¹⁴⁶ requiring them to pay for expert witnesses and an attorney.¹⁴⁷ IDEA litigation is a lengthy process with a difficult standard for many families to meet. Endrew had to prove that the school district did not allow him to make appropriate progress on his IEP. To meet that standard, he needed professional experts who could attest to the progress he was capable of making and what services he needed to make that amount of progress beyond what the school district provided. Without the means for litigation costs and private education, Endrew would not have been able to present evidence of his progress. His case illustrates how difficult IDEA due process procedures are for parents who lack the means, agency, or understanding to navigate the process.

In Fry v. Napoleon Community Schools, the Supreme Court clarified the procedure that applies when a plaintiff files a complaint under a statute other than IDEA, finding that IDEA’s exhaustion requirement is “not necessary when the gravamen of the plaintiff’s suit is something other than the denial of IDEA’s core guarantee” of a FAPE.¹⁴⁸ There was confusion in lower courts about how to determine whether a complaint qualified as a claim under IDEA or under the ADA, section 504, or other federal laws.¹⁴⁹ In Fry, the parents of a kindergartener with cerebral palsy sought permission to let their daughter bring her service dog to school.¹⁵⁰ The school district denied the request because she already received similar services and a service dog would be “superfluous.”¹⁵¹ The parents first filed a complaint with the U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights, alleging ADA and section 504 violations, which resulted in a favorable decision for the parents.¹⁵² The parents then brought these actions against the school district, seeking monetary and declaratory relief due to the school’s denial of their daughter’s right to equal access.¹⁵³ The district court dismissed their action pursuant to section 1415(l) of IDEA because the parents failed to exhaust their administrative remedies under IDEA.¹⁵⁴ The Sixth Circuit affirmed the district court’s decision because, when the injuries alleged relate to the child’s education and there is a remedy available through IDEA, “waiving the exhaustion requirement would prevent state and local educational agencies from addressing problems they specialize in addressing . . . .”¹⁵⁵

The Supreme Court examined section 1415(l)’s exhaustion requirement, finding that it “hinges on whether a lawsuit seeks relief for the denial of a FAPE.”¹⁵⁶ If a lawsuit alleges a denial of a FAPE, then it cannot circumvent section 1415(l), even if the plaintiff sues under a different federal law.¹⁵⁷ However, the Court did specify that if a lawsuit is brought under a different federal law and “the remedy sought is not for the denial of a FAPE, then exhaustion of IDEA’s procedures is not required.”¹⁵⁸ This is because an administrative hearing under IDEA could not provide any relief, even if the claim originates from the mistreatment of a child with disabilities.¹⁵⁹

While Fry clarified certain aspects of the exhaustion requirement, the issue of monetary damages under IDEA remained unsettled, as circuit courts were divided on whether courts could excuse exhaustion.¹⁶⁰ Congress had crafted IDEA “exhaustion requirement to be flexible so that meritorious cases would get a judicial hearing, [but] many courts have applied the rule rigidly, barring cases even when the plaintiffs present persuasive reasons for excusing exhaustion.”¹⁶¹ Fry left an unresolved issue regarding IDEA’s exhaustion requirement, meaning that the plaintiffs continued to be barred when trying to seek compensatory damages under the ADA or section 504 when they failed to first exhaust their options. Had the Court answered the question then, school district responses likely would have handled IDEA complaints with more care and screened them for potential ADA and section 504 violations.

III. PEREZ V. STURGIS PUBLIC SCHOOLS: A TURNING POINT IN DISABILITY RIGHTS ADVOCACY

Part III delves into Perez, explaining how the petitioner, Miguel Luna Perez, faced educational neglect and misrepresentation from his school district before pursuing an ADA claim for emotional distress. Perez establishes a precedent for families to pursue claims under federal laws like the ADA and section 504 without exhausting IDEA procedures, offering new legal avenues for students with disabilities. This Part argues that this decision will have significant repercussions for special education litigation, as it enhances families’ leverage in legal disputes and places financial strain on school districts’ budgets and abilities to provide special education services.

A. Discussion of Perez v. Sturgis Public Schools

Petitioner Miguel Luna Perez was a deaf student who attended schools in Michigan’s Sturgis Public School District from ages nine to twenty.¹⁶² Perez was an individual who qualified as having a disability under IDEA and the ADA because he had a physical and mental impairment that substantially limited multiple major life activities, like hearing and speaking.¹⁶³ Perez claimed that SPSD was required to provide an aide to translate classroom instruction and that his aides were unqualified sign language interpreters.¹⁶⁴ SPSD made multiple misrepresentations to Perez and his parents, including his academic achievements by inflating his grades, that his aides knew sign language, and that he had access to the same educational services as his peers.¹⁶⁵ Perez claimed that, in March 2016, just months before his high school graduation, SPSD informed him and his parents that he would not receive a high school diploma and instead would receive a “certificate of completion.”¹⁶⁶

This prompted Perez and his family to file an administrative due process claim with the Michigan Department of Education.¹⁶⁷ Perez and SPSD reached a settlement that included payment for additional schooling at the Michigan School for the Deaf, sign language instruction for Perez and his family, and payment of the family’s attorneys’ fees.¹⁶⁸ The settlement gave Perez what he was entitled to under IDEA, but there was another legal problem—SPSD also violated Perez’s rights under the ADA.

Perez subsequently sued in the Western District Court of Michigan, seeking compensatory damages for emotional distress under the ADA.¹⁶⁹ SPSD moved to dismiss, claiming that under section 1415(l) of IDEA, Perez was barred from bringing his ADA claim until he exhausted IDEA’s administrative procedures.¹⁷⁰ The district court agreed with SPSD’s argument and dismissed the suit, which the Sixth Circuit affirmed due to circuit precedent that previously addressed the issue.¹⁷¹ The Sixth Circuit opinion stated that, because Perez settled his IDEA claim, he was “barred from bringing a similar case against the school in court—even under a different federal law.”¹⁷² The Sixth Circuit found that federal law requires families to first exhaust IDEA’s administrative procedures as if the action was brought under IDEA, even if they were suing under another statute.¹⁷³ Because Perez’s core complaint was that SPSD denied him a FAPE, his suit sought relief that was available under IDEA, meaning he had to complete IDEA’s exhaustion requirements even if he wanted to bring a separate ADA claim.¹⁷⁴

The case was then brought before the Supreme Court, and the central question concerned “the extent to which children with disabilities must exhaust the[] administrative procedures under IDEA before seeking relief under other federal antidiscrimination statutes, such as the [ADA].”¹⁷⁵ There had been circuit splits on the interpretation of section 1415(l), so the Court finally decided to address this issue.¹⁷⁶ Previously, the Court declined to address this issue in Fry, articulating that “we leave for another day a further question about the meaning of § 1415(l): Is exhaustion required when the plaintiff complains of the denial of a FAPE, but the specific remedy she requests—here, money damages for emotional distress—is not one that an IDEA hearing officer may award?”¹⁷⁷

Here, the Court examined two features in section 1415(l): first, that IDEA is not meant to restrict an individual’s ability to seek remedies under the ADA or “ ‘other Federal laws protecting the rights of children with disabilities,’ ”¹⁷⁸ and second, that a qualification in the statute prohibits certain lawsuits with the language, “except that before the filing of a civil action under such laws seeking relief that is also available under [section 1415(l)], the procedures under subsections (f) and (g) shall be exhausted . . . .”¹⁷⁹ The preceding subsections (f) and (g) discuss children’s rights to due process hearings and the ability to appeal decisions to state educational agencies.¹⁸⁰

Perez interpreted the statute to require exhaustion of the administrative processes discussed in subsections (f) and (g) only to the extent he pursued a suit for remedies IDEA provided.¹⁸¹ Perez argued that this reading would not “foreclose[] his . . . claim because his ADA complaint [sought] only compensatory damages, a remedy everyone before [the Court] agree[d] IDEA cannot supply.”¹⁸² In contrast, SPSD interpreted the statute “as requiring a plaintiff to exhaust subsections (f) and (g) before [they] may pursue a suit under another federal law if that suit seeks relief for the same underlying harm IDEA exists to address.”¹⁸³ This reading would have prevented Perez from bringing his ADA suit because it stemmed from a FAPE violation, which is a harm IDEA addressed.¹⁸⁴ And Perez had already settled his administrative complaint instead of exhausting the administrative processes in subsections (f) and (g), so he would have been foreclosed from his ADA suit.¹⁸⁵

The Court found Perez’s interpretation comported more consistently with IDEA, particularly with section 1415(l)’s use of “remedies,” which treated it synonymously with “relief.”¹⁸⁶ The first clause discusses remedies, the dictionary definition of which is an enforcement of rights like money damages or an injunction.¹⁸⁷ The statute reads that “[n]othing in this chapter shall be construed to restrict or limit the rights, procedures, and remedies available under the Constitution, the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990, title V of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, or other Federal laws protecting the rights of children with disabilities,” so it should be construed that IDEA does not restrict or limit the availability of remedies like money damages under federal statutes, including the ADA.¹⁸⁸ The Court noted that there is an exception to this rule, which prevents individuals from seeking redress under other federal laws unless they exhaust the administrative procedures.¹⁸⁹ But the exception “does not apply to all suits seeking relief that other federal laws provide.”¹⁹⁰ The statute requires the exhaustion of administrative processes to apply only to lawsuits that seek relief that is also available under IDEA.¹⁹¹ Thus, the Court concluded that the exception did not bar Perez from his ADA suit, because he sought compensatory damages—a form of relief that IDEA does not provide.¹⁹² This interpretation required the Court to treat “remedies” and “relief” synonymously, which the Court found IDEA did in various places.¹⁹³ For example, the second clause in section 1415(l) refers to “seeking relief,” which complements how a plaintiff’s complaint includes “a demand for the relief sought.”¹⁹⁴

SPSD then responded by raising Fry as precedent.¹⁹⁵ However, Fry “went out of its way to reserve rather than decide [the] question” brought up in Perez, so it did not advance the school district’s argument.¹⁹⁶ In Fry, the Court held that IDEA’s exhaustion requirement does not apply unless a plaintiff seeks relief for a denial of a FAPE, since that is the only relief available from IDEA.¹⁹⁷ The Court found that Perez presented an analogous situation but ultimately asked a different question about whether a plaintiff needs to exhaust the administrative remedies when they are seeking a remedy that IDEA does not provide.¹⁹⁸ Similar to the Court’s answer in Fry, a plaintiff does not need to exhaust administrative processes under IDEA in this situation.¹⁹⁹ SPSD argued that Congress had practical reasons for requiring exhaustion, no matter the plaintiff’s preferred remedy, because exhaustion enables agencies to exercise their “special expertise” and promotes efficiency.²⁰⁰ The Court found SPSD’s argument “unclear” and that it was a “mistake[] to assume . . . that any interpretation of a law” that better serves its presumed objectives “must be the law,” as laws are the result of “compromise[s],” and no law relentlessly pursues its purposes.²⁰¹ Moreover, the Court reasoned that Congress might have aimed to ease the demand for administrative exhaustion when a plaintiff seeks a remedy available under IDEA but allow an exemption from exhaustion when a plaintiff seeks a remedy that IDEA cannot provide.²⁰² The Court found Perez’s argument more persuasive, reversed the decision of the Sixth Circuit, and remanded the case so Perez could proceed with his ADA lawsuit in district court.²⁰³

B. Perez’s Impact on Special Education Litigation

The Perez decision will impact how school districts and other educational agencies approach and settle IDEA complaints in the future. Families now have more leverage against school districts because they are not barred from seeking compensatory damages for failure to exhaust administrative procedures. School districts will likely approach settlement discussions differently, knowing that families now have an opportunity to be awarded compensatory damages. Although families may have more leverage during negotiations, a potential consequence could be that the Perez decision may lead to greater financial strain on school districts, which would prevent other students with disabilities from receiving their basic educational rights. School districts should anticipate an increase in the number of cases litigated because students can now “bypass [the] often slow-moving administrative proceedings under IDEA when their chief claim is for damages under other federal laws . . . .”²⁰⁴

It is worth noting that, due to systemic issues within school districts and state departments of education, even when families are awarded compensatory remedies, educational agencies may not disburse payments promptly or at all. For example, in New York City, parents of children with disabilities have sought the enforcement of orders from impartial hearings entered pursuant to IDEA, which the state department of education has failed to execute due to limited resources.²⁰⁵ In LV v. New York City Department of Education, parents sued the New York City Department of Education (“NYC DOE”) for failure to implement orders, such as funding tuition programs.²⁰⁶ The parents alleged that the NYC DOE had a “systemic problem” due to its failure to maintain a dedicated system for the timely enforcement of the orders, which deprived the plaintiffs of their right to a FAPE.²⁰⁷ In 2008, a settlement agreement between the parents and the NYC DOE was approved.²⁰⁸ Under the settlement, the NYC DOE was required to implement all impartial hearing orders within the time frame stipulated in the order or thirty-five calendar days after the order date if no time limit was specified.²⁰⁹ However, the NYC DOE failed to comply with the settlement terms for more than a decade. A Special Master was appointed in 2021 to investigate the NYC DOE’s delays in the implementation of the orders. In March 2023, the Special Master issued a report after conducting interviews with the plaintiffs, families, school staff, and NYC DOE staff.²¹⁰

The report highlighted that impartial hearings and orders have reached an all-time high in New York City, with the increased volume of requests attributable to the COVID-19 pandemic.²¹¹ It was recommended that the NYC DOE address its staffing crises in the short term and then digitalize its orders for better organization.²¹² One reason the NYC DOE provided for its inability to implement orders was due to NYC DOE staffing shortages.²¹³ The Special Master report was extremely detailed and included many short- and long-term action steps for the NYC DOE, including forty-one required steps that the NYC DOE had to take within a year. There were suggestions for the hiring, training, and retention of staff in the Implementation Unit, which oversees implementing decisions from impartial hearings, while other changes included creating a structure for parents to contact the NYC DOE when their orders are not implemented, providing a support hotline, and building better technology systems to implement orders.²¹⁴

Although this is a victory for families of students with disabilities in New York City, it comes after a decade of inaction by the NYC DOE. This was due to systemic failures on multiple levels, which is not uncommon in school districts and state educational agencies around the country. This is just one example of how structural issues in a system and a consistently underfunded agency will lead to ineffective educational opportunities. LV v. New York City Department of Education is an example of the persistent challenges in ensuring the effective implementation of special education remedies, even when the law provides for a favorable solution. Students legally entitled to reimbursements or tuition assistance from a school district remained in complex litigation for years to accomplish their goals. The tuition some of the plaintiffs requested was only a few thousand dollars, but the NYC DOE was so ill-equipped at executing orders that it remained noncompliant for years. Unfortunately, there is no simple solution for the NYC DOE’s structural issues. Rather, the NYC DOE faces a complex undertaking as it will need to upgrade its infrastructure and rehaul its staff to better respond to the influx of settlements that have piled up and the new hearings that are coming down the horizon.

This case is illustrative of how receiving monetary compensation is important and helpful for students with disabilities to receive a FAPE under IDEA, but a compensatory remedy might not yield anything substantial. The NYC DOE was bound by court orders, but the plaintiffs in LV still waited more than a decade for compensation. And it is unclear whether the recent judicial order will actually result in greater implementation of orders for other students with disabilities. It seems likely that students with disabilities will continue to endure neglect in the system if the state and educational agencies do not have proper mechanisms in place to provide students with their remedies. The NYC DOE manages the largest public school system in the nation, with a 2023–2024 school year budget of $37.5 billion.²¹⁵ Even as the NYC DOE likely has more resources than other school districts, it still struggles with the volume of orders and order implementation. As more decisions ordering monetary remedies are made post-Perez, school districts and state education departments will need to upgrade their infrastructure to deal with outstanding orders and future settlements. Another concern is whether there is funding and leadership dedicated to making those changes. At schools that struggle with leadership turnover among superintendents or principals, this can lead to inconsistency with vision and changing priorities affecting staff effectiveness and cohesiveness and making it even more difficult to train staff and support teachers in developing strong relationships with students.²¹⁶ Educational agencies should take the Perez decision seriously and take LV as a precautionary tale for judicial orders that compel major changes to address structural issues in regard to special education programs and the rights of students with disabilities.

In recent cases decided in the months following the Perez decision, courts have put together IDEA statute and the precedents from Fry and Perez to evaluate suits against public schools for alleged violations of IDEA, the ADA, or other antidiscrimination statutes. In Dale v. Suffern Central School District, the Southern District of New York found that the plaintiffs were not required to exhaust administrative remedies because the plaintiffs sought “a form of relief that IDEA cannot provide—specifically, compensatory damages,” and because exhaustion was not required in the circumstances because of the ruling precedent of Perez.²¹⁷ In Roe v. Healey, a First Circuit case decided in August 2023, the district court below found that plaintiffs were required to exhaust all their FAPE-related claims first, which included claims under IDEA, associated Massachusetts regulations, section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, the ADA, and the Fourteenth Amendment (enforced through § 1983).²¹⁸ The Fifth Circuit now looks at whether a complaint concerns a denial of a FAPE.²¹⁹ If it does not concern the denial of a FAPE, then administrative exhaustion is not necessary.²²⁰ If the complaint concerns a denial of a FAPE, the court then looks to the relief sought, and if IDEA cannot provide the relief sought, like compensatory damages, the plaintiff does not need to exhaust IDEA’s administrative requirements.²²¹ Courts appear to be applying Perez consistently and are not barring plaintiffs from seeking relief for a FAPE violation that is not provided by IDEA, even if they have not exhausted the administrative procedures pursuant to section 1415(l).²²² At the very least, Perez clarified a confusing question for district and circuit courts left previously unanswered in Fry, so there is greater clarity for families seeking relief under IDEA or other antidiscrimination statutes.

IV. BEYOND PEREZ: IMPLICATIONS AND CHALLENGES IN SPECIAL EDUCATION POLICY

This Part explores the policy implications of the Perez decision, including whether this decision may cause more harm than benefit. It examines the advantages of allowing compensatory damages for families of children with disabilities, while also weighing the significant financial burdens such damages could impose on school districts. This Part also underscores the need for more explicit and accessible IDEA guidelines, so school districts can better understand and fulfill their obligations under IDEA.

A. Implications of the Perez Decision

IDEA’s exhaustion requirement applies to suits alleging violations under IDEA and to “civil action[s] under [other] laws seeking relief that is also available under [chapter 33].”²²³ Prior to the Perez decision, plaintiffs alleging a denial of a FAPE and requesting a remedy that IDEA did not provide still had to exhaust administrative remedies under IDEA.²²⁴ However, now the Perez Court has opened up the possibilities for families of children with disabilities by allowing them to pursue money damages under different federal laws, even when they are seeking a denial of a FAPE. Following this decision, district courts and courts of appeal have issued decisions citing and applying Perez, acknowledging that exhaustion is required only if the plaintiff seeks relief that is available under IDEA.²²⁵ However, plaintiffs attempting to argue that the exhaustion requirements are no longer relevant in IDEA suits will likely still be unsuccessful, since Perez applies only to plaintiffs who bring suits under a separate federal law besides IDEA and for compensatory damages that IDEA does not provide.²²⁶ Various circuit courts have remanded matters to district courts so they can apply the Perez ruling.²²⁷

While it appears beneficial for families of children with disabilities to receive compensatory damages for inadequate educational opportunities under IDEA, the traditional remedies offered for IDEA noncompliance may be more appropriate for various reasons. For example, when a school district fails to comply with IDEA, restructuring the education system to provide adequate services for its students in the future seems more reasonable than offering a sum of money. Although there is an argument that financial penalties can motivate substantial changes from educational agencies, this approach overlooks the systemic problems within a school district and potential oversight from the state educational agency. In addition, the increased focus on litigation now that parents can bypass administrative procedures, will divert resources from addressing structural issues in school districts’ special education programs, especially given the potential for increased non-meritorious litigation to seek money damages after the Perez decision. The aggregate effect of school districts paying compensatory damages and dedicating more time toward lawsuits could detract attention from students, leaving school districts unable to enhance their special education services and at risk of providing reduced educational quality with reduced financial resources at their disposal.

The NYC DOE published data that showed that 37% of preschoolers with disabilities did not receive their mandated special education services in the 2021–2022 school year.²²⁸ More than 6,500 preschoolers who needed speech therapy did not have one session in the entire school year.²²⁹ Advocates for Children of New York, a non-profit dedicated to helping at-risk students receive a high-quality education, recommends New York City invest $50 million into the city’s upcoming budget to increase preschool special education services.²³⁰ That investment would go into hiring more teachers, increasing pay, and providing services similar to those recommended by the Special Master in LV.²³¹ With thousands of students struggling in school districts to access their services, and even more students potentially not being identified as needing services, it is concerning that, following Perez, more money might be paid out to plaintiffs, while less money goes toward special education services.

Another avenue school districts should turn toward is the Office of Special Education and Rehabilitative Services’ Office of Special Education Programs (“OSEP”), which provides discretionary grant awards.²³² In the 2023 fiscal year, OSEP provided over $110 million under IDEA to fund new programs to help educate children with disabilities.²³³ This includes hiring and training special education staff, early intervention services, and technical assistance to help states meet IDEA data collection.²³⁴ Investment in infrastructure and staffing will help school districts avoid lawsuits in the first place and avoid violating IDEA by providing inadequate special education services or failing to identify and track students with disabilities.

Another effect the Perez decision may have on educational agencies is in their assessment and implementation of IEPs and other accommodations for students with disabilities. School districts and states must account for the possibility of being sued under the ADA and other federal laws regarding equal access. Student requests should be addressed not just through IDEA’s lens but also through the lenses of the ADA and section 504. Failure to do so will leave educational agencies open to greater liability now that the remedy of money damages is accessible to students and families. School districts that are most vulnerable to increased lawsuits are clearly those with longstanding violations of students’ FAPE. For school districts that are diligent about abiding by IDEA’s requirements and providing proper FAPE to their students who require accommodations, the implications of Perez will not be as intense.

The Perez decision allows students with disabilities to bring discrimination claims under the ADA to receive compensatory damages, but plaintiffs will need to prove their discrimination claims. While this presents an enormous opportunity for students like Perez to have their day in court, plaintiffs still need to prove intentional discrimination to receive monetary claims under the ADA.²³⁵ The bar to receive monetary damages under either the ADA or section 504 remains high²³⁶ because proving intentional discrimination is difficult.²³⁷ Plaintiffs have to demonstrate that school districts were “deliberately indifferent to [a] student’s rights, exercised gross misjudgment, or acted in bad faith.”²³⁸ So, although it seems like there will be an uptick in lawsuits against educational agencies post-Perez, that does not mean that plaintiffs will prevail and actually receive monetary damages.

It is more likely that families can leverage this change into receiving larger settlement payouts from school districts, since they can threaten to escalate their claims from negotiations to court.²³⁹ Perry A. Zirkel, a special education law expert and law professor, expressed that the special education field remains “entirely unaffected” because the chances of courts awarding money damages for ADA or section 504 lawsuits “remain very strongly against the parents.”²⁴⁰ Zirkel does acknowledge, however, that after Perez, there will likely be more litigation that increases court congestion and parents’ leverage during settlement negotiations.²⁴¹ Another reason Perez strengthens families’ positions is that attorneys for school districts view litigating IDEA claims as overly cumbersome and in need of major reform.²⁴² Even when school districts prevail, they must pay substantial attorney’s fees for trial preparations and attending hearings, while special education teachers must spend time attending additional IEP meetings, interviewing with attorneys, and preparing to testify—all of which takes them away from their normal classroom responsibilities.²⁴³ Even if a parent’s complaint is frivolous, school districts sometimes agree to parental demands simply because a school district’s own attorney’s fees would likely be greater to litigate than the requested changes to IEPs or compensatory education.²⁴⁴

On the other hand, the ADA could help alleviate financial difficulties with litigation, as judges could award monetary remedies along with discretionary attorney’s fees.²⁴⁵ This potential source of funding could change lawyers’ strategies to bring ADA claims against school districts simultaneously with a due process hearing over IDEA complaints. Special education lawyers could also work on a contingency fee basis now that monetary damages are available. The decision to litigate in court is a personal one, however, and even with monetary damages, families may be reluctant to pursue that avenue.

Another critical factor to consider is the financial constraints and pressure on school districts Perez may cause. There is a strong possibility that allowing compensatory damages and having school districts pay out monetary awards to families will affect school districts’ ability to provide adequate special education services. School districts often operate under tight budgets, with funds allocated across various departments and needs. Because more parents have begun requesting services from school districts under the ADA and section 504, aggregate costs for accommodations like special transportation, testing accommodations, and publicly provided education at private schools have compounded.²⁴⁶ With budget constraints and added costs from litigation and monetary damages, fulfilling all IDEA requirements following Perez could overwhelm school budgets.²⁴⁷ This could lead to the trimming of other operational expenses or essential educational services, like school psychologists, speech pathologists, and extracurricular teachers. Diverting funds from valuable programs for children is a concern, especially because districts in lower-income areas will likely be affected at disproportionate rates. School districts primarily rely on local property taxes, state funding, and federal assistance for their budgets, so the financial ability to comply with IDEA procedures might not be feasible for school districts, even those that want to eradicate the educational inequities that students with disabilities experience. Another possibility is that school districts might be able to wield their insurance coverage effectively, depending on their coverage, to cover or defend against an ADA claim.²⁴⁸ This could reduce litigation costs and help offset higher settlement payouts to plaintiffs for school districts, but it depends on the insurance coverage plan and whether premiums might increase with more claims submitted.

B. Challenges in Policy Implementation and Compliance

School districts should not use an unclear statute as an excuse for their failure to provide adequate learning, however. The long-term harm caused to Perez by SPSD could have been mitigated if SPSD simply provided a certified sign language interpreter from the beginning. Even if IDEA standards are confusing, SPSD should have informed Perez’s family about his actual performance and not given inflated grades. There was a serious violation of Perez’s basic education for twelve years, and such egregiousness in school districts must be prevented. The lack of following basic standards of practice for deaf students in Perez is unacceptable considering there is usually guidance available from each state’s department of education.²⁴⁹ For example, SPSD could have reached out to the Michigan Department of Education Low Incidence Outreach to receive resources about serving students with hearing or visual disabilities.²⁵⁰

Even though there may be financial strain on school districts, it is still essential for school districts to strengthen their special education staff, services, and administration, not merely to avoid lawsuits and financial penalties following Perez, but to genuinely meet the needs of students with disabilities. To reduce the risk of litigation and ensure effective compliance, there is a pressing need for clear, specific guidelines detailing the standards school districts must meet under applicable statutes. That is an imperative issue that Congress should address in the near future, now that Perez has been decided. The National Council on Disability (“NCD”), an independent federal agency, was created to provide recommendations that promote disability policies, programs, and procedures that enhance the lives of individuals with disabilities.²⁵¹ Congress should rely more on the NCD’s recommendations and have the NCD host forums and publish more reports about how to improve IDEA implementation for school districts. Clarifying these compliance standards would provide much-needed direction for school districts, helping them fulfill their legal obligations to students with disabilities and reducing the likelihood of costly legal battles.

Although there is potential for Perez to compel school districts that do not currently meet IDEA requirements to reform their special education programs, the statute’s broad and not-well-defined framework presents additional challenges to effectively complying with IDEA.²⁵² The statute’s ambiguity can lead to varied interpretations of what it requires, which is especially challenging for school districts with limited resources that already struggle to determine what services need to be rendered from convoluted state and IDEA legislation. School districts also need well-trained, qualified professionals available to provide services to students with disabilities, another challenge for districts with limited budgets, as it is difficult to attract and retain talent with low salaries. Training and professional development for the latest requirements in special education law specific to a school district’s city or state is also costly. For successful IEP implementation, there needs to be continuous monitoring and evaluation of students with disabilities in their regular classrooms and during their services. Overworked special education teachers may struggle to manage observations and oversee regular IEP meetings. Limited resources can easily result in poor infrastructure and ineffective tracking of student performance and students with disabilities.

Increased advocacy for state and federal funding to address IDEA noncompliance and ease the burden of responding to an influx of complaints could ease the pressure on school districts. There should also be clearer guidelines and frameworks for districts to better understand and implement IDEA requirements. Establishing a state-level advisory body, for example, can offer guidance and assistance for the state-specific rules, in addition to IDEA procedures. Congress may also choose to address this situation through amendments to IDEA or when IDEA is reauthorized.²⁵³

Race and socioeconomic status are also important considerations for the impact of Perez on students with disabilities. Students of color are generally overrepresented in special education settings, in which they are “disproportionately labeled in ‘soft’ disability categories such as emotionally disturbed, [and] ADHD . . . .”²⁵⁴ Once labeled in those categories, those children often “receive differential access to high-quality education, are not tracked toward college, experience higher rates of suspension and expulsion, and are disproportionately represented in juvenile justice prisons.”²⁵⁵ In 1997, a reauthorization and amendment to IDEA acknowledged the problem of overrepresentation of minority students in special education classes, specifically that “[s]tudies have found that schools with predominately White students and teachers have placed disproportionately high numbers of their minority students into special education.”²⁵⁶ A major weakness in the due process model is that parents who have little agency in the process, like those with limited sophistication in educational advocacy and access to legal representation, struggle to advocate on behalf of their children.²⁵⁷

Additionally, even though families have the option to sue, it is expensive to hire a private attorney to sue a school district, and a family’s socioeconomic means often influences the outcome.²⁵⁸ In Endrew, Endrew’s parents paid for expert witnesses in addition to their lawyer and initially funded a private, specialized education before pursuing reimbursement.²⁵⁹ Endrew had to demonstrate that the school district prevented him from making the necessary progress toward his IEP. If Endrew’s family did not have the funds to cover the fees of the lawsuit and private schooling, he would not have been able to demonstrate his progress. Low-income parents can hardly be expected to undergo this financial burden without a guarantee, since money damages might not offset the cost of expensive litigation. Not to mention, their child might continue to fall further behind while the legal proceedings unfold. As an overwhelming percentage of children with disabilities who qualify for IDEA services are low-income, it is unclear whether more parents will go through with litigation, even with the potential for compensatory damages, simply due to a lack of legal sophistication or limited resources.²⁶⁰

C. Strategic Approaches and Systemic Changes in Special Education

In July 2023, the U.S. Department of Education released guidance to help states address and better understand IDEA requirements, focused on providing students with a FAPE.²⁶¹ “With this guidance, States will have the information necessary to exercise their general supervision responsibilities under IDEA and ensure appropriate monitoring, technical assistance . . . , and enforcement regarding local programs.”²⁶² The guidance is thorough in identifying noncompliance, while outlining the timeline for correcting noncompliance, the enforcement actions a state must take if a program does not meet IDEA requirements, and the proper way to monitor local educational agency programs.²⁶³ States bear the primary responsibility of ensuring that districts are adequately serving students under IDEA through “general supervision,” so better state oversight of local school districts is critical to ensuring that schools meet their obligations to students with disabilities.²⁶⁴

The federal guidance recommends that each state set up a robust monitoring system that “swiftly identifies and corrects noncompliance; increases accountability through the collection of timely and accurate data; and ensures the full implementation of IDEA to improve functional outcomes.”²⁶⁵ This guidance came out after OSEP identified a failure of multiple states to comply with IDEA, so OSEP is providing “accessible and actionable information” for states to exercise their duties to help protect the rights of students with disabilities.²⁶⁶ Between 2014 and 2023, on average, only seven states received the “meets requirements” determination in accordance with IDEA statute for Part B responsibilities regarding providing a FAPE.²⁶⁷ OSEP released this guidance to increase accountability by strengthening states’ general supervision programs to improve compliance. Ideally, this new guidance will take the onus off parents filing formal complaints as more states bolster their oversight mechanisms.

This guidance is another step in the right direction, especially after Perez, because it forces states to take more aggressive actions against noncompliant school districts. Notably, the guidance notes that allegations about IDEA violations can come from media reports, feedback sessions, and other areas beyond the normal formal-complaint setting.²⁶⁸ Now, a school district cannot be found in compliance with IDEA until they have completely resolved the issue that was raised, and school districts must address noncompliance as soon as possible and no later than a year after it is flagged.²⁶⁹ Monitoring ensures that school districts are following IDEA requirements, but OSEP will need to take action beyond issuing guidance for school districts to truly start remedying their IDEA noncompliance.

School districts now face the challenge of adapting to a new legal environment, in which IDEA’s due process procedures may no longer serve as an efficient and exclusive avenue to address the needs of students with disabilities, but as a potential battleground for financial claims. As more complaints and cases are heard in district courts, the Perez decision will likely be a reckoning for school districts with a history of neglecting students with disabilities. This will hopefully provide enough financial incentive for those school districts and state education departments to shore up their management and oversight of special education services. Like the NYC DOE’s new plan, other educational agencies should consider evaluating areas for improvement in their own special education services to avoid litigation and provide an inclusive classroom environment for students with disabilities that IDEA was created to address. Educational agencies are also likely to place greater care in crafting settlements to comprehensively address all issues that families are alleging, so there is greater potential for children with disabilities to access a broader range of remedies and legal protections. There is great potential for the Perez decision to initiate comprehensive and thoughtful change for the treatment and schooling of students with disabilities in classrooms, as educational agencies elect to avoid costly litigation and expensive compensatory damages in favor of addressing systemic issues within their schools.

CONCLUSION

As Justice Gorsuch stated, the Perez decision “holds consequences not just for Mr. Perez but for a great many children with disabilities and their parents.”²⁷⁰ Perez’s heartbreaking story about attending SPSD for over a decade with unqualified interpreters, leaving him unable to understand material or even learn sign language properly, is unfortunately just one of the many stories of students with disabilities who have been failed by their school systems. The Court’s unanimous decision removes unnecessary burdens and clarifies the requirements and remedies that are available for children with disabilities and their families when they pursue litigation against school districts.²⁷¹ The Court explained that a student with a disability need not first exhaust the administrative requirements of IDEA before filing a lawsuit seeking compensatory damages under the ADA or other federal antidiscrimination laws, since IDEA cannot provide those remedies. Though the lasting effects of this decision are yet to be seen, there are practical implications for school districts effective immediately, including a greater urgency to be responsive to parent concerns and student needs, abide by IDEA procedures, and implement student IEPs effectively. At the very least, the special education world can feel cautiously optimistic that Perez will help more students be made whole by the legal system and by educators who ensure that students with disabilities’ unique needs are met. After all, there were approximately 7.6 million children receiving services under IDEA in the 2022–2023 school year, so Perez has far-reaching implications.²⁷²

While this decision empowers families by holding school districts financially accountable, school districts’ ability to provide adequate special education services may be hindered if schools spend more time battling litigation and paying money damages. Nonetheless, this unanimous decision preserves IDEA’s clear purpose of allowing students with disabilities to receive a FAPE as soon as possible and to preserve their legal rights under other federal statutes.²⁷³ Perez is momentous because, as Justice Kagan acknowledged, oftentimes, it is “the parents [of students with disabilities] that have the greater incentive to get the education fixed for their child[ren],” and this decision allows students with disabilities to receive everything they are entitled to under IDEA and also receive compensatory damages under the ADA.²⁷⁴ The decision underscores the need for school districts to address structural problems that prevent students with disabilities from access to their rightful educational opportunities. As school districts grapple with Perez, we will surely see whether the Court’s holding delivers financial redress to children with disabilities who are discriminated against, suffer harm from, and have claims under both IDEA and the ADA, and how the future landscape of special education is transformed as a result.

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 473

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Isabelle Yuan*

* Executive Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 98; J.D. Candidate 2025, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. History 2020, Wellesley College. Many thanks to the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their thoughtful feedback. Thank you also to Maia Lee and William Wang for their invaluable guidance and support. All mistakes are my own.

INTRODUCTION

I. Board of education v. PICO

II. THE FIRST AMENDMENT

A. Viewpoint Discrimination

B. Government Speech

C. Minor’s Right to Free Speech

III. HISTORY AND PURPOSE OF PUBLIC LIBRARIES

IV. HISTORY OF BOOK BANS AND CENSORSHIP

V. PROLIFERATION OF BANS AND LEGISLATION

VI. PROLIFERATION OF LAWSUITS

A. Eighth Circuit: GLBT Youth in Iowa Schools Task Force v. Reynolds

B. Fifth Circuit: Little v. Llano County

VII. BOOK BANNING CASES ARE HEADED TO THE SUPREME COURT

A. Decades-Old Nonbinding Supreme Court Plurality Opinion In Pico, Revisited

B. The Supreme Court Has Not Yet Differentiated Between School Libraries And Public Libraries

C. Llano County’s Book Removals Are Viewpoint Discrimination

D. The Dangerous Rise of the Government Speech Argument

CONCLUSION

Editor’s Note:

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 203

INTRODUCTION

I. A CRASH COURSE IN AI AND RELEVANT LEGAL THOUGHT

A. What Is Artificial Intelligence and How Can It Contract?

Artificial Intelligence’s Rise to Prominence: The “AI Boom”27Beth Miller, The Artificial Intelligence Boom, Momentum, Fall 2023, at 12, https://engineering.washu.edu/news/magazine/documents/Momentum-Fall-2023.pdf [https://perma.cc/RU8W-GJAR].

Early Applications of Artificial Intelligence to Legal Contracting

B. A “Meeting of the Minds” Regarding Contract Law Theory

C. Attorneys as Ethical and Professional Fiduciaries

II. ILLUSTRATIVE EXAMPLES

IV. EQUITY CONCERNS

A. Algorithmic Discrimination

B. Ethics of Enforcing Automated Deals

C. Who Is Liable or Accountable?

D. Data Privacy and Security Concerns

V. AI: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE OR ACCURACY ISSUES?

VI. LEGAL PROFESSION CHALLENGES

VII. EMPIRICAL RESEARCH: “HIRING” CHATGPT IN A CONTRACT NEGOTIATION

D. Overall Trends and Conclusions

E. Shortcomings

VIII. ENOUGH NEGATIVITY—WHAT IS AI GOOD AT?

CONCLUSION

99 S. Cal. L. Rev. 239

INTRODUCTION

I. BACKGROUND

A.Executing Bilateral Extradition Treaties

B.The Extradition Process in the United States: Foreign Requests

C.Extradition Treaty Interpretation in the United States

II. INTERPRETING THE “CHARGING DOCUMENT”

A.Overview of the Circuit Split

B.Manrique v. Kolc

C.Vitkus v. Blinken

III. INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS AND DUE PROCESS

A.Due Process and Treaty Interpretation

B.Relevant Background

C.Foreign relations and the interpretation of “the Charging Document” requirement

CONCLUSION

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 761

Introduction

I.A Historic Influx of Unaccompanied Children

II.The Legal Foundation Underpinning ORR’s Apprehension, Custody, and placement of Unaccompanied Children

A.The Flores Settlement Agreement of 1997

B.The Homeland Security Act of 2002

C.The William Wilberforce Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act of 2008

D.ORR’s Role in Child Custody and Placement

III. Labor Law’s Role in protecting Unaccompanied Children

A. The Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 and Related Child Labor Policies

B. Varying State Child Labor Laws

C. Anti-Trafficking Laws Protecting Unaccompanied Children

IV. ISSUES WITH and possible solutions for ORR’s PLACEMENT OF UNACCOMPANIED MINORS AND Federal enforcement of Child LABOR LAWs

A.Issues with ORR’s Custody, Placement, and Post-Release Supervision of Unaccompanied Minors

1.Proper Vetting of Sponsors Versus Speed of Release

2.Keeping Track of Migrant Children Paroled into Sponsor Homes

3.Implementing Reporting Requirements for Sponsors

4.Enforcement Mechanism Needed

B. Inadequacies in FLSA Penalties and DOL Enforcement Capabilities

1.DOL’s Chronic Underfunding Increases the Risk that Unaccompanied Minors Go Unnoticed by Federal Investigators

2. Current FLSA Penalties Are Inadequate to Deter Bad Actors from Committing Child Labor Law Violations

C. Summary of Solutions

CONCLUSION

98 S. Cal. L. Rev. 761

Introduction

Artificial Intelligence’s Rise to Prominence: The “AI Boom”²⁷